The Political Philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā 9781138807341, 9781315751160

Citation preview

The Political Philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā

Providing a comprehensive and widely accessible investigation into Mullā Ṣadrā’s works, this book establishes his political philosophy and instigates a dialogue on the relevance of Ṣadrā’s philosophy to present-day challenges. Investigating Ṣadrā’s primary sources, the book reveals that his discourse on politics cannot be interpreted as a discursive springboard for hierocracy and the political authority of Shi‘a jurists, nor does the mystical attitude of his philosophy (with its emphasis on the inner aspects of religion) promote an idea of quietism or a fundamental separation of religion and politics. Laying the groundwork for further translations and interpretation, this volume is not just concerned with ‘political philosophy’ as yet another particular and limited facet of Ṣadrā’s overall system. Rather, through unifying mystical, intellectual and political aspects of this singular philosopher, the volume is concerned with properly contextualizing and understanding the guiding intentions and inspirations that unify and underlie all of his creative philosophical endeavour. This pioneering and provocative work of genuine reflection is a new contribution to the wider subject of political philosophy. It will be of interest to researchers of political philosophy, Islamic philosophy, mysticism, theology, history and Iranian studies. Seyyed Khalil Toussi is an editor at Isthmus Press based in London and Senior Research Fellow at the Institute of Humanity and Cultural Studies (IHCS). He has published widely on Islamic philosophy and mysticism with a focus on transcendent philosophy and Mullā Ṣadrā.

Routledge Studies in Islamic Philosophy Series Editor: Oliver Leaman University of Kentucky

The Routledge Studies in Islamic Philosophy Series is devoted to the publication of scholarly books in all areas of Islamic philosophy. We regard the discipline as part of the general philosophical environment and seek to include books on a wide variety of different approaches to Islamic philosophy. Avicenna’s Al-Shifa Oriental Philosophy Sari Nusseibeh Becoming a Genuine Muslim Kierkegaard and Muhammad Iqbal Sevcan Ozturk Al-Ghazali and the Divine Massimo Campanini The Philosophy of Religion in Post-Revolutionary Iran On an Epistemological Turn in Modern Islamic Reform Discourse Heydar Shadi Analytic Philosophy and Avicenna Knowing the Unknown Mohammad Azadpur The Political Philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā Seyyed Khalil Toussi For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com/ middleeaststudies/series/RSINIP

The Political Philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā Seyyed Khalil Toussi

First published 2020 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2020 Seyyed Khalil Toussi The right of Seyyed Khalil Toussi to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN: 978-1-138-80734-1 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-75116-0 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by Apex CoVantage, LLC

Contents

Forewordvi Abbreviations of the journals, encyclopaedia and edited booksx

Political philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā

1

1 Mullā Ṣadrā and the socio-political and cultural milieu

19

2 The central importance of the philosophy of the human soul in Mullā Ṣadrā’s politics

51

3 Mullā Ṣadrā: political or apolitical philosopher?

97

4 Transcendent politics

110

5 A new vision of socio-political justice in transcendent philosophy

136

6 Ṣadrā’s narrative on the virtuous city

157

7 Political authority

173

Epilogue Bibliography Index

204 210 239

Foreword

Given that the introductions and concluding passages of virtually all of Mullā Ṣadrā’s multiple philosophical writings, at every level from the most popular to the most technical, are focused on vehement political attacks and undisguised polemics against many of the leading religio-political tendencies of his own day, the generalized neglect of his political philosophy over the past century or more can only be explained by the familiar institutional processes of scholasticization in those centres of religious learning where the analysis of his works has long been focused on the sterile repetition of a familiar set of ontological doctrines and standard metaphysical interpretations. This recent neglect of Ṣadrā’s political thought is all the more striking when seen against the background of the often central role his philosophical writings and tendencies had played in long-running religio-political polemics throughout the earlier Qajar period, involving both the Shaykhi and Bābi movements. In any event, as Khalil Toussi’s remarkable new survey of Ṣadrā’s political philosophy makes abundantly clear, even a cursory examination of his philosophical writings quickly reveals the elaborate attention that he pays throughout each systematic work to every essential element of political philosophy: epistemology and eschatology; practical spiritual purification; prophetology and the interplay of spiritual authority and influence (wilāya/walāya); and the careful integration of ultimate human ends within a wider earthly framework of justice, equally attentive to social-ethical and, more explicitly, political contexts and instrumentalities. Of course, these different elements of his political philosophy are carefully scattered throughout his major independent works – just as in the classical writings of both Ibn ‘Arabi and Farabi, and they are most often expressed in the guise of those technical Islamic and Imami Shi‘ite vocabularies that by his time had become the standard vehicles for discussing more universal philosophical consideration of politically and religiously sensitive topics. But those key rhetorical methods of ‘scattering’, like this complexly multivalent technical religio-philosophical vocabulary, were quite familiar to educated Iranian philosophical readers and writers in his time, and they remain so, to a great extent, down to the present day. The core of Dr Toussi’s carefully documented argument in this pioneering book turns on his understanding of Ṣadrā’s political philosophy as a fruitful intellectual marriage between the disparate but ultimately complementary perspectives

Foreword vii of Ibn Sina (Avicenna) and Ibn ‘Arabi  – whose interplay in framing his original metaphysical theses is almost universally acknowledged – together with a providentially rediscovered political focus and emphases that are clearly drawn from several key political writings of Farabi, the ‘Second Teacher’ (of philosophy, after Aristotle). Based on the arguments developed here, Mullā Ṣadrā’s creative and far-reaching assimilation of Farabi’s centrally political focus in philosophy should eventually lead to a wider rethinking of those standard accounts of Islamic philosophy that have portrayed Farabi’s serious philosophical influence in the Muslim world as largely coming to an end with the classical political philosophy articulated by Ibn Rushd (Averroes) and his followers or with the later solitary genius of Ibn Khaldun. Toussi’s comprehensive account of Ṣadrā’s political philosophy begins with a careful description and analysis of the complex ways that classical political issues were deeply exemplified, throughout his life, in the dramatic particulars of his tumultuous historical and personal setting. As his magisterial opening chapter makes clear, the philosophical reflections and alternative political visions articulated throughout Ṣadrā’s writings have their background in the contemporary Safavid rulers’ striving to create and effectively institutionalize a more stable political and religio-ideological framework of acceptably ‘legitimate’ authority and popular allegiance that would help to ensure their ongoing dynastic rule amidst their dynamic, constantly turbulent Iranian setting, vis-à-vis a daunting range of conflicting regional political claims and forces, military, social and ­economic. Besides the shifting ‘external’ threats (and occasional trade and diplomatic alliances) of the Ottomans, Uzbeks, Timurid/Mogul claimants, Portuguese, Russians and others, those competing potential frameworks of internal political authority and legitimacy – each representing classical alternatives throughout earlier centuries, both in that region and across the wider Muslim world – included the following key alternatives: multiple regionalized tribal alliances; momentarily powerful (but highly fragile) charismatic, semi-messianic sacred figures, both Sunni and Shi‘ite – often vaguely associated with existing ‘Sufi’ family lineages – leading particular tribal or ethnic coalitions (as with Shah Ismail and the establishment of the Safavids themselves); and politically influential religious scholars in the region’s widely scattered urban centres of learning, here including various parties of local and imported Imami Shi‘ite scholars suddenly (in alliance with their new Safavid sponsors) violently claiming sole legitimacy in relation to the competing influence of long established local lineages of scholars and urban Sufi brotherhoods in cities like Ṣadrā’s own native Shiraz. Against that unstable and perilous historical backdrop  – one is immediately reminded of the times of a Plato, Shakespeare or Machiavelli – Dr Toussi highlights the uniqueness and political sensitivity of Ṣadrā’s lifelong, courageous personal distancing from the intrigues and blandishments of the Safavid court, despite his fruitful personal relations with many other famous, politically and religiously influential philosopher-theologians of Isfahan in his day. Thus Ṣadrā’s recurrent choice of a kind of “internal exile” (from the Safavid court), focusing on the potential longer-range influence of his prolific independent writing and

viii  Foreword teaching – combined with his passionately engaged, intentionally constructive reflection and judgement of contemporary (and future) political alternatives  – suggests the stance of emblematic figures like Farabi or Plato rather than the direct personal political engagement more commonly typified by such key Islamic philosopher-viziers as Avicenna, Averroes, Ibn Khaldun and Nasir al-Din Tusi. The remaining chapters of Dr Toussi’s skilful synthesis of Ṣadrā’s political philosophy follow an order and logic familiar to any student of Farabi’s political philosophy, beginning with an account of the ‘final cause’ of human perfection, then moving on to the broad forms of justice and ethics needed to actualize that perfection, and finally turning to the prerequisites of the ideal state and to the more practical, indispensable forms of political and religious leadership that are always needed in order to bring that philosophical vision to more active fruition. It should be emphasised – especially for the many readers of this English volume who are likely to be quite unfamiliar with Ṣadrā’s philosophical writings, given the paucity of translations to date – that the author has provided a masterful, readily assimilated summary of Ṣadrā’s thought at each stage of this argument. Without exaggeration, each of these chapters could (and indeed one day should) be readily expanded into a complete book of its own, simply by translating a more complete selection of the many relevant passages that are scattered throughout this philosopher’s major works. The philosophical starting point of this study, as of Ṣadrā’s own political philosophy, lies in his widely scattered accounts of epistemology and philosophical psychology, which are expressed – in different works and contexts, for ­differing audiences – both in philosophical language and in a highly technical religious symbolism already fully elaborated in the voluminous earlier writings of Ibn ‘Arabi and his subsequent interpreters. The author has pulled together this complex yet clearly developed account of the human soul’s development and gradual perfection, spanning life in this world and further stages of growth and transformation in the intermediate spiritual realms of the barzakh, while focusing on Ṣadrā’s complex assimilation of the spiritual perspectives of Ibn ‘Arabi and an immense range of earlier Sufi and Shi‘ite thinkers within the familiar philosophical language and epistemology grounded in the works of Avicenna. The range of processes and practices necessarily involved in translating this broad theoretical account of spiritual psychology and epistemology into actual spiritual realisation – which Ṣadrā usually discusses, following his many Sufi sources here, in terms of a spiritually focused account of individual ‘ethics’ (akhlāq) – is so complex that the author has promised a separate forthcoming volume entirely devoted to this subject. The following chapters here on the role of justice and the ideal state in the attainment of human perfection are those in which the author most directly highlights the inspiration of Farabi’s political thought and writings. He clearly shows how they provided Ṣadrā an essentially clarifying, explicitly universal philosophical context for issues that had previously been raised only in broader, safely remote historical settings in the classical religious writings of both Sufi thinkers (again, pre-eminently in the works of Ibn ‘Arabi) and early Shi‘ite sources,

Foreword ix particularly the influential collection of Nahj al-Balāgha and other writings attributed to Imam Ali. Finally, this study concludes with an illuminating summary of Ṣadrā’s ­discussion of the complex demands and prerequisites of both lawgiving (including its just interpretation and proper application) and political leadership. These are ­perennially sensitive and unavoidably controversial issues that Mullā Ṣadrā ­normally presents, following the deeply influential example of Avicenna, in terms of a standard normative Islamic vocabulary that had long been capable (as all of Ṣadrā’s readers were well aware) of an immense and intensely problematic spectrum of practical interpretation and application. Since history has curiously determined that these classical issues, interpretations and vocabulary now ­provide again the operative rhetorical language of practical political life in contemporary Iran, the author has presented Ṣadrā’s discussions of these key political issues largely in the philosopher’s own terms, while prudently leaving it to his astute readers to apply to these open-ended religious formulations the determinative universal philosophical insights and ethical perspectives that were more openly developed in the preceding chapters. In doing so, he follows Ṣadrā’s own example. To sum up, discerning readers will discover in Dr Toussi’s pioneering account of Ṣadrā’s political philosophy a remarkably direct, accessible and yet provocative work of genuine philosophical reflection, which is at the same time a thorough and reliable new contribution to the wider history of Islamic philosophy. We can only hope that this groundbreaking study will open the doors to the many further tasks of translation, communication and wide-ranging interpretation that are still needed to make the perspectives of this singular thinker – with his unique and persuasively unified synthesis of spiritual, intellectual, ethical and political perspectives – more accessible to the wider, global audiences that he deserves. For as we have indicated, this volume is not just about ‘political philosophy’ as yet another particular and limited facet of Ṣadrā’s overall system: rather, it is about properly contextualizing and understanding the guiding intentions and inspirations that in fact unify and underlie all of his creative philosophical endeavour. James W. Morris (Boston College) November 2019

Abbreviations of the journals, ­encyclopaedia and edited books

Abbreviations

AcA Acta Analytica APh Asian Philosophy Ar Arabic ASPh Arabic Sciences and Philosophy (Paris) BEIPh Biographical Encyclopaedia of Islamic Philosophy BJHPh British Journal for the History of Philosophy BJS The British Journal of Sociology BSOAS Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies DI Der Islam DWI Die Welt des Islams EI Encyclopaedia of Islam, new edition (Leiden) EIMW Encyclopaedia of Islam and Muslim World EIO Encyclopædia Iranica Online EIr Encyclopaedia Iranica Er Eranos ER Encyclopedia of Religion EsExH Eschatology, Exegesis, Hadith, Islam–West Philosophical Dialogue HI Hamdard Islamicus (Karachi) HTR Harvard Theological Review Ḥu Ḥuḍūr IaS Islam and Science IJCPM An International Journal for Comparative Philosophy and Mysticism IJMES International Journal of Middle East Studies IJPCS International Journal of Politics, Culture and Society IJRB Interdisciplinary Journal of Contemporary Research in Business Ir Iran IrS Iranian Studies IS Islamic Studies (Islamabad) ISRAI ‘Ilm: Science, Religion and Art in Islam IUI Ilāhiyyat va ‘Ulūm Islami JAOS Journal of the American Oriental Society JESHO Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient JḤ Journal of Ḥawzah

Abbreviations xi JHS The Journal of Hellenic Studies JIRI Journal of the Islamic Research Institute JIS Journal of Islamic Studies (Oxford) JJTPh Journal of Jewish Thought and Philosophy JPS Journal of Political Sciences JSIS Journal of Shi‘a Islamic Studies JTPh Journal Transcendent Philosophy ḤI Hukumat Islami (Journal) KA Kayhān Andīshe KhNS Kherad Nāmeh-yi Sadra MN Mehr Nāmeh MPhT Mediaeval Philosophy and Theology MS Mediaeval Studies (Toronto) MSIWD Mulla Sadra and Transcendent Philosophy: Islam–West Philosophical Dialogue MUIM Māhnāmey-yi ‘Ulūm Insāī, Mehnāmeh MW Muslim World (Hartford, CN) NF Nāme-yi Farhang NTI Namey-yi Tarīkh Islam OSAP Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy PḤ Pegāh Ḥawzah PhI Philosophia Islamica REPh Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy PEIPT The Princeton Encyclopedia of Islamic Political Thought RS Religious Studies SATC Seventh Annual Telos Conference SAWITD  Substance and Attribute Western and Islamic Traditions in Dialogue ṢE Ṣub-i Emrūz SEPh Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy Sga Studia graeco-arabica SI Studia Islamica (Paris) SIr Studia Iranica (Paris) ṢJIS al-Ṣerāt: A Journal of Islamic Studies SoP Sophia Perennis SR Studies in the Renaissance UVMC Unity and Variety in Muslim Civilization WCM World Congress on Mullā Ṣadrā ZDMG Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morganländischen Gesellschaft

Political philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā

Introduction Muḥammad Ibn Ibrāhīm Ibn Yaḥyā al-Qawām al-Shirazi Mullā Ṣadrā (d. 1050/1640), best known as Mullā Ṣadrā, founded a new philosophical school of transcendent philosophy (al-ḥikmat al-muta‘ālīyya)1 that is characterised by a conciliatory approach towards three major intellectual traditions in Islam. Mullā Ṣadrā’s philosophy has received huge attention in Muslim and Western academia, particularly over the last few decades, and scholarship on his life, times and intellectual connections has grown exponentially.2 Ṣadrā’s main concern was finding a way of discovering metaphysical and ontological realities and of understanding the true message of sacred texts. He knew the hermeneutic of such texts had been a fundamental theological–­ philosophical dilemma throughout the history of Islamic thought. Therefore, he subjects nearly all of the major problems of traditional philosophy to the fourfold ­scrutiny of Qur’anic and hadith teachings, philosophical demonstration and intuitive knowledge. The tension between discursive analytical philosophy (ḥikmat al-baḥthī) and intuitive knowledge (al-‘ilm al-shuhūdī) had already been noted and described as an impediment to realised knowledge by the Islamic Illuminationists (Ishrāqīyyūn), who had attempted to reconcile discursive thought, represented primarily by the Peripatetics (Mashshā’īn), with intuitional knowledge, as exemplified by Sufi metaphysicians (‘urafā) such as Ibn al-‘Arabī. Being aware of the importance of these epistemological and methodological concerns, Ṣadrā gave priority to establishing a new systematic model of thought. Keeping the two m ­ odels of the Peripatetics and Illuminationists in mind, he took things a step further by articulating the unity of revelation, reasoned demonstration (burhān) and intuitional knowledge. Ṣadrā’s unifying perspective runs through all his chapters on Islamic philosophy and avoids any segregation of the metaphysical, ontological and epistemological. As a result, there is consensus among readers of his philosophy that he is the first philosopher to reconcile the transmitted sciences of Shi‘i Islam (al-‘ulūm al-naqliyya), including those of the Qur’an, hadith and Shari‘a, with the rational and intuitional sciences (al-‘ulūm al-‘aqliyya wa al-shuhūdiyya), including Islamic philosophy, theology and mysticism. Given this perspective on his legacy, many readers of transcendent philosophy believed that

2  Political philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā Ṣadrā devoted his thought mainly to speculative rather than practical philosophy, such as ethics and politics. In order to offer the formulations with which I wish to conduct and engage in a critical analysis of the practical aspects of Ṣadrā’s philosophy, I specifically intend to illustrate in the present volume that (1) one of Mullā Ṣadrā’s main ­concerns was the ultimate destiny of humanity in this world and the next, which is the achievement of a state of proximity to God through the spiritual journey; (2) according to Ṣadrā’s primary texts, as we will cite, he was aware of the sickness within contemporary society at the time and its corrupt politics, and he chose to treat this socio-political problem by forming a true and accurate picture of the person in relation to society; (3) for Ṣadrā, politics alone is unable to bring about true ­happiness, ­justice and prosperity, as long as men and women do not realise that humanity is forgetful (ghāfilīn) by nature; people forget their true selves and are thus deprived of their humanity because they turn away from the reality of ‘existence’ (wujūd);3 (4) to counteract this ethico-epistemological shortcoming of his society, he brings the people back to the ontological question of the truth of existence (haqīqat al-wujūd) and announces that whoever is ignorant of the significance of this concept is ­ignorant of the most crucial aspect of human knowledge; the more one knows of the truth of one’s existence and reality, the more pious one becomes, and this is in fact the means through which one knows how to live a good life4 and is enabled to ascend to the highest heavenly host.5 This is a transcendent vision of human life in which purifying the soul in both personal and social life should be everyone’s priority; (5) for Ṣadrā, philosophy and mysticism, unlike our contemporary speculations that are confined to academics, are thus relevant to practical life and have a therapeutic purpose aimed at the development and perfection of humanity on its spiritual journey. This seems to echo the French poet and thinker Paul Valéry, who said: ‘Politics is the art of preventing people from busying themselves with what is their own business’. The aforementioned key points serve as a window to concepts, narratives and arguments borrowed from Ṣadrā’s work, offering a new perspective on political philosophy. In order to do this, I searched out these concepts throughout all his material, encompassing psychology, ontology, epistemology, metaphysics, and the like, including some that relate to our discussion and analysis only indirectly. In light of the findings in this present study, readers may discover responses to essential questions regarding transcendent philosophy, as to why Mullā Ṣadrā neither wrote any book or treatise specifically on politics nor ever claimed that his philosophy was directly concerned with politics. In addition, he stayed aloof from the Safavid court, condemned any sort of cooperation with the state, and believed that disorder in religion starts when the ‘ulamā (scholars who interpret the Islamic sciences and law) associate themselves with worldly rulers and kings.6 He describes such scholars as those who seek political fame.7 Due to this gnostic attitude to politics and his non-political works, Ṣadrā is recognised as an apolitical philosopher and a key member of the seventeenthcentury mystic-philosophical school of Isfahan, which militated against the formation of any political form of Islam. In contrast with this radical view, there are

Political philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā  3 advocates of a political Islam nowadays who, especially in Iran, attempt to portray the founder of the 1979 Islamic Revolution, Ayatollah Khomeini, as an inspired jurist-philosopher who established his doctrine of wilāyat al-faqīh according to Ṣadrā’s philosophy.8 Through a new investigation into Ṣadrā’s primary sources, the present study will shed light on this matter and specifically explore and analyse the intricate relationship between his philosophy and politics. This analysis should reveal that Ṣadrā’s discourse on politics cannot be interpreted as a discursive springboard for the establishment of the guardianship of the jurist (wilāyat al-faqīh), as is commonplace in contemporary Iran, nor does the mystical attitude of his philosophy, with its emphasis on the inner aspects of religion, promote an idea of quietism or that of a fundamental separation of religion and politics. Therefore, having introduced a fresh picture of the political philosophy in Ṣadrā’s thought, this study will challenge the approaches of those authors of extant secondary literature who consider him a theoretician of the political authority of the jurist, as well as those who have categorised Ṣadrā among the completely apolitical gnostic philosophers.

Approaches to the political aspect of transcendent philosophy In Shi‘a academic centres, among teachers, students and those devoted to transcendent philosophy, Ṣadrā is traditionally known as a thinker whose philosophy is a spiritual ‘path of enlightenment’, not just a new school of thought that reconciled speculative philosophy and mysticism. For such as these, it is through an experience of pure mystical consciousness that Ṣadrā has expressed and analysed the most delicate issues of ontology, metaphysics, cosmology, eschatology and the philosophical issues relating to the human soul. This dominant mystical and apolitical approach to transcendent philosophy, focusing on the mysterious notion of ‘existence’ (wujūd) and the doctrine of the unity of existence (waḥdat al-wujūd), asserts that transcendent philosophy should be described as ḥikma.9 Over the past few decades, numerous studies in European languages have revealed that transcendent philosophy is a multivocal discourse; thence they have contributed to a new movement in which some new aspects of Ṣadrā’s philosophy have been studied, although the esoteric interpretation of transcendent philosophy is in many ways still a dominant approach. Henry Corbin (1903–1978) and Sayyed Hossein Nasr (b. 1933) were the first two scholars to make a significant contribution to transcendent philosophy by introducing it to Western intellectuals as ‘ḥikma’, which they translated into English as ‘theosophy’ and described as an essentially esoteric and arcane discipline that expresses an ‘interior and apolitical way of life’ centred on transcendent philosophy.10 Hossein Nasr regards Ṣadrā as a ‘theosopher’11 who is devoted to the gnostic dimension of religion. He has not overlooked an exoteric aspect, in the sense of practical ethics for the soul’s development in Ṣadrā’s philosophy, but has no interest in Ṣadrā’s political philosophy.12 In his article, ‘Theoretical Gnosis and Doctrinal Sufism and Their Significance Today’ (2005),13 Nasr explains the influence of Ṣadrā’s mysticism (‘irfān) on the Shi‘a political jurists-philosophers, especially

4  Political philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā Ayatollah Khomeini, but he has not considered the political dimensions of Ṣadrā’s doctrines of the spiritual journey and his in-depth discussion of the concepts of the Imamate and wilāya. Indeed, although Nasr’s approach to Ṣadrā’s philosophy hardly suggests any convergence between Ṣadrā’s philosophy and politics, he tells us that if every person practised the religious tradition with understanding, the whole of society would be reformed, an idea that seems inspired by Ṣadrā’s political message. In his 2014 translation (with the assistance of Ibrahim Kalin) of al-Mashā‘ir,14 Nasr still shows his tendency towards a traditional approach to transcendent philosophy. For Henry Corbin, Mullā Ṣadrā is the original luminary in the history of Islamic thought.15 He suggests that Ṣadrā, like Suhrawardī (d.1191), was essentially a Platonist and should be seen as comparable to those of the well-known circle of Cambridge Platonists, such as Henry More (1614–1687) and Descartes.16 Corbin was fascinated by the discussion of the intermediate realm (‘ālam al-mithāl) in Suhrawardī’s works, which according to him was the key issue for the posthumous birth of the soul but was neglected in the West, resulting in the Western rational and empirical philosophies. He therefore penetrated this field and later found that Islamic philosophers, especially the Iranians, had dealt with it. Corbin’s leaving the realm of Western philosophy to devote himself to Islamic philosophy has usually been considered as a radical rupture in his philosophical thought, whereas in his view there was in fact no contradiction but rather a deep continuity in his philosophical path guided by a unique quest for being. He was therefore deeply influenced both by Heidegger’s major issue of ‘being qua being’ and Ṣadrā’s concept of the ‘fundamental reality of being’. Corbin, in an original introduction to his translation of Ṣadrā’s al-Mashā’ir, made a critical comparative analysis between Sadrian and continental existentialism. Devising a common hermeneutic for comparative philosophy remained at the heart of Corbin’s work in order to discern realities beyond the phenomenal and extricate ourselves from historicism.17 In his studies, Corbin tries fundamentally to examine the social and political impact of the true followers of Avicenna and Suhrawardī and the extent to which the impact is in conformity with the beliefs of Shi‘a orthodoxy in Iran.18 However, despite his strong interest in Ṣadrā’s philosophy and his awareness of Ṣadrā’s unique and comprehensive philosophical system,19 he does not dwell in equal measure on the social and political aspects of his philosophy or on Ṣadrā’s impact on the political and social thought of his students in later centuries. In his discussions on the concepts of ‘ālam al-mithāl, the substantial perfection of the human soul on the return journey to the spiritual realm, and even in his investigation of wilāya in both Ṣadrā and elsewhere in Shi‘a belief, he shows no interest in any political implications of these concepts, nor does he speak of any social involvement by the wayfarer in the fourth journey, as did his favourite philosophers. Another solid contribution to a first generation in English of Ṣadrā’s transcendent philosophy is that of Toshihiko Izutsu (1914–1993), who offers a concise examination of Ṣadrā’s philosophy as a case study of ‘oriental philosophy’. Izutsu studied transcendent philosophy mostly through his great interpreter, Hājj Mullā

Political philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā 5 Hādī Sabzavārī20 (1833–1910), during mystical and philosophical (ḥikma) debates on Sadrian ontology, metaphysics and, in particular, ‘Being’ as a concept beyond the level of archetypes. He furnishes his precise studies within metaphysical ideas and focuses on their Avicennan and Suhrawardian roots, which he has found in the works of many Islamic, Buddhist and, to a greater extent, Taoist philosophers, as well as in Heidegger’s (1889–1976) philosophy of Being. This is an area that he considers important for any dialogue between Western and Eastern civilisations.21 In his work, Ethico-Religious Concepts in the Qur’an,22 Izutsu analyses the guiding spirit of the Islamic moral code, the basic ethical relationship between man and God. Izutsu explores these themes by employing ethno-linguistics, a theory of the interrelationships between cultural linguistic patterns, to analyse the semantic structure of major concepts in the Qur’an. He, like Nasr and Corbin, has examined Islam in a mystical and symbolic way and considers Sufi visionary language as a statement of the archetypal logopoeia, that is to say, as communication derived from the imaginal world (‘ālam al-mithāl) or the realm of archetypal meanings (‘alām al-ma‘nā), understood as the expression of precise symbolic meanings working systematically at a supra-conscious associative level. Due to his esoteric interpretation of transcendent philosophy, in his discussion of imaginative perception as the soul’s power to form images and perceive, he does not touch upon the cornerstone of Ṣadrā’s political doctrine, on the idea of the identification of knowledge with power, as he does not explain the ontological status of prophecy and the importance of the imaginal realm (‘ālam al-mithāl) from any political aspect, as Fārābī and Ṣadrā do. As addressed in Chapter 7, according to Ṣadrā, a strong imaginal faculty enables the perfect man to dwell at the border between the rational and sensible faculties. At this high rank of perfection, one can attain the ability to see immaterial and divine beings whilst still living in the material and bodily realm. In Sadrian language, this is the status of unity in multiplicity that the prophets should attain in order to receive a message for this worldly multiplicity from the realm of divine unity.23 James W. Morris follows the tradition of Corbin and Nasr and regards Ṣadrā as an esoteric and mystically inclined thinker. He pays considerable ­attention to Ṣadrā’s psychology and epistemology. In his translation of al-Ḥikmat ­al-‘Arshiyya,24 with substantial annotations, Morris sees Ṣadrā as an oppositional intellect in the midst of exoteric jurists opposed to mysticism and philosophy. He examines the esoteric language in Ṣadrā’s philosophy of the human soul (‘ilm al-nafs) and finds a persecuted oppositional intellect among exoteric jurists. He discusses in mystical language the relationship of the soul and the body and the concept of perfection; the concept of knowledge and man’s noetic realisation; and the stages of the soul’s journey and its role in transcending the self, which may be considered as a step towards Ṣadrā’s practical philosophy. He also presents a significant discourse on the issue of wilāya, with useful cross-references to important passages from some of Ṣadrā’s other writings, but he avoids advocating an esoteric hermeneutical reading of the text that would emphasise the politics, while insisting that Ṣadrā’s philosophy has the potential for establishing a new political philosophy.25

6  Political philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā French scholar Christian Jambet, in his The Act of Being: The Philosophy of Revelation in Mullā Ṣadrā (2006),26 approaches transcendent philosophy in the same way. In his brief inquiry into Ṣadrā’s interpretation of the Qur’anic verse (2:256), which states that ‘there is no compulsion in religion,’ Jambet says that Ṣadrā reveals himself here, as one would expect, to be more concerned with an apolitical interpretation of this verse than anything else.27 In his study, Jambet attempts to show convincing arguments that for Ṣadrā, ‘religion’ is understood in its deepest sense to be an interior matter.28 Fazlur Rahman (1919–1988), in his The Philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā (1975), is uninterested in the mystical aspects of Ṣadrā’s philosophy and interprets him within an Avicennan framework. Despite his great attention to the rationalistic aspects of Islam and Islamic philosophy, Rahman provides a Qur’anic perspective on philosophical concepts.29 In addition, Rahman addresses political and social concerns with a legalistic and discursive focus in accord with revivalist and reformist thought. In particular, one also finds Rahman’s thought characterised by the ethical orientation of Muslim society, based on key Qur’anic terms like imān, Islam and taqwā, and thus his approach to Ṣadrā implicitly downplays the importance of the practical aspects of transcendent philosophy, so that the analysis of Ṣadrā in his book is devoted to a debate on purely philosophical concepts such as essence and existence, with particular reference to Ibn Sīnā.30 Other serious contributions were made by later generations of English-reading scholars. Latima-Parvin Peerwani’s interest in Ṣadrā stems from his philosophy of the soul. In this regard, she finds that Ṣadrā deals with the depth of the human psyche in a way far surpassing the Freudian, Jungian and Rogerian psychologies that have been in vogue since the twentieth century. Ṣadrā’s philosophy recognises the multiple levels of the human soul, its maladies and cures, and its posthumous birth. In this sense, in Peerwani’s view, one of the core issues in Ṣadrā’s philosophy is ethics, through which he deals with the human soul and its perfection. In her translation of Ṣadrā’s interpretation of the verses of al-Nūr,31 she studies Ṣadrā’s hermeneutic of the scriptural language, which is inextricably connected to his philosophy of the soul. Man understands the divine scripture according to the level of his soul; the better he is regarding his ethical and spiritual practices, the higher and deeper his soul is in understanding and following the divine signs. In the introduction to her translation of two volumes of Asfār,32 Peerwani very briefly highlights many of those Sadrian issues that have been considered in my study as the basis for Ṣadrā’s practical philosophy, such as substantial motion, the soul–body relation, the human soul’s creativity, and the four spiritual journeys. Maria Dakake has coincidentally touched on some of the issues related to Ṣadrā’s politics that we discuss in our study. In her ‘The Soul as Barzakh: Substantial Motion and Mullā Sadrā’s Theory of Human Becoming,’33 she presents a general account of Ṣadrā’s theory of the soul’s development in the light of Ṣadrā’s principle of substantial motion. The author’s focus is on Ṣadrā’s consideration of the soul’s Return as an event that completes human development, and this principle becomes one of the main premises in explaining the meaning of the Return. Having raised the old problem of soul–body dichotomy, Dakake attempts to solve

Political philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā  7 it according to the paradigm of Ṣadrā’s ontology of the human soul but does not indicate any political implications of the issues related to the soul such as the fourth spiritual journey, the development of the soul and its conduct with physical multiplicities, and the like.34 Sajjad Rizvi’s contribution to transcendent philosophy, together with his scholarly research on Ṣadrā’s bibliography and the history of his philosophical legacy,35 has received a good reception within English-speaking academia. In his 2009 Mullā Sadrā and Metaphysics: Modulation of Being,36 Rizvi states the problem of ‘modulation of being’ (tashkīk) as the central issue of Sadrian ontology and facilitates our understanding of Ṣadrā’s position on a wide variety of important philosophical issues. According to Rizvi, Ṣadrā has extended the normal understanding of the modulation of being beyond the simple division of the two realms of mental and concrete existence to bring out the semantics of being, showing ‘being-­in-language’ as critical to Sadrian semantic theory, something that has often been neglected. In his volume, without no political inferences, Rizvi examines the ­‘circle of being’ or the descending and ascending arc of being within Ṣadrā’s Shi‘i notion of wilāya, the most intense degree of being and the ‘last’ degree before the culmination of the return to the One. In one of his articles, ‘Philosophy as a Way of Life in the World of Islam: Applying Hadot to the Study of Mullā Ṣadrā’,37 without hinting at any ethical or political implications, Rizvi asserts that a proper understanding of Ṣadrā’s philosophy requires an appreciation of philosophy in the Neoplatonic sense of ‘a way of life’ that is often closely related to spiritual practice and religious commitment. Ibrahim Kalin, in his 2010 volume on Ṣadrā’s epistemology,38 has focused on the idea of knowledge as a mode of being (naḥw al-wujūd). This is a well researched work and provides a wealth of information about Ṣadrā’s doctrine on the relationship between the subjective and objective realities, as well as the existential relationship between the soul and the known subject. Although major English contributions by Western scholars like Nasr, Corbin, Morris and Rizvi have emended the situation, Ibrahim Kalin’s study on Ṣadrā’s epistemology was a welcome addition to the literature, all the more so considering that the main focus of earlier Ṣadrā scholarship was on his metaphysics. Kalin starts from what Ṣadrā is best known for, i.e., the doctrine of the primacy of existence over quiddity (aṣālat al-wujūd) and the related idea of degrees of existence (tashkīk al-wujūd). Given these two major Ṣadrā’s doctrines, knowledge should be understood first and foremost as a mode of existence that is known in a single act of existence. This treatment ultimately provides the basis for understanding Ṣadrā’s exceptionally broad vision of the unification of intellect and the intelligible (itiḥād al-’āqil wal ma‘qūl), one of Ṣadrā’s most important epistemological ideas. The main body of Kalin’s book is appended by an English translation of a brief treatise by Ṣadrā devoted to this doctrine, by which Ṣadrā establishes his thesis of the soul’s substantial evolution in his volumes on the human soul in Asfār. It is interesting to note that in this and his other works on knowledge in Ṣadrā’s philosophy,39 Kalin offers no observations on any political implication of the ways in which knowledge is a form of existential perfection and power in the human soul.

8  Political philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā There is recent research on some aspects of Ṣadrā’s political thought in Knowledge and Power in the Philosophies of Ḥamīd al-Dīn Kirmānī and Mullā Ṣadrā Shirazi (2018) by Sayeh Meisami. The author addresses the philosophical link between the theoretical and practical philosophies of Ḥamīd al-Dīn Kirmānī’s (d. 412/1021) and Mullā Ṣadrā. Meisami interprets Ṣadrā’s discussions on knowledge and authority as a discursive foundation for the political authority of the jurist. To support this claim, she cites Ṣadrā with inadequate analysis of his statements and the context in which he speaks about the jurists. In this study, through many evidences, we shall show that according to Ṣadrā, the jurist has speculative knowledge and at most may have mastery of the Shari‘a but has no mastery over understanding the real, inner meaning of the Qur’an (ta’wīl al-Qur’an) or rational science (al-‘ulūm al-‘aqliyya) and ethics. They are only experts in secondary issues regarding Islamic jurisprudence, such as divorce, manumission, imprecation, commerce and inheritance, which in fact can even distance one from spirituality if one does not have an inner knowledge of Islam.40 Apart from this crucial misunderstanding, Meisami, inspired by the French philosopher Michel Foucault (1926–1984), presents an interesting discussion with regard to her hypothesis of the human knowledge–power dynamic and her excellent comparison between Kirmānī and Ṣadrā. She demonstrates this theory within the philosophical discourse of a Shi‘i background and the influence of such a dynamic on contemporary Shi‘i region-political discourse. However, she has not involved the fundamental principles of Ṣadrā’s philosophy by which he explains the ontological relationship between knowledge and power. In our analysis of this particular issue, through Ṣadrā’s major philosophical concepts and arguments in chapters 2 and 7, we elucidate the mechanism of the knowledge–power relationship and the multidimensional character of his philosophical system, which support a discursive foundation for the establishment of Shi‘i political authority based on such knowledge. There is much other secondary literature on different theoretical aspects of Ṣadrā’s thought, such as works on his interpretation of the Qurʾan and hadith41 and on his chapters regarding eschatology and philosophy of the mind, as well as comparative studies on him and other philosophers, but within the confines of this study, I shall focus on the literature on Ṣadrā’s politics, all of which is in Persian.42 During the last few decades, especially after the Islamic Revolution in Iran, a considerable amount of attention was paid by Persian scholars to the political aspects of Ṣadrā’s oeuvre. The Islamic orientation of the 1979 Iranian Revolution, with its charismatic mystic-philosopher leader, had a huge and rapid influence on scholars and students in this field in the universities and seminaries (ḥawza) and promptly evoked in them a political form of Islam. Many writers and researchers, especially those who were enchanted with the Islamic Revolution and often worked in governmental centres and institutions, attempted to explain the apparent resurgence of Shi‘a Islam in Iran. Therefore, unlike studies on Ṣadrā and transcendent philosophy prior to the Revolution that mainly viewed him simply as a mystic-philosopher, in these recent decades, under the political influence of the Islamic government, the prevailing approach to Ṣadrā’s politics attempts to show

Political philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā  9 that the leader of the Revolution, his ideas on the religious state, and the unconditional political authority of the jurist (wilāyat al-muṭlaqa al-faqīh) are inspired by the most solid school of philosophy of the last four hundred years, i.e., the transcendent philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā. For example, in the first published volume directly concerned with Ṣadrā’s political thought (1381 Sh/2003),43 Najaf Lakzā’ī claims that Ṣadrā is an advocate of the political authority of jurists. After giving some information about Ṣadrā’s life and works, he presents a general discussion on the specifications of a religious government, its necessity and its duties. Lakzā’ī does a good job in providing numerous quotations from Ṣadrā about the necessity of a leader in society and argues in favour of Ṣadrā’s words on the essential existence of the imams and their true successors after the Twelfth Iman, ‘the universal order is maintained through the presence of the divine Man. It is because of the imams that the heavens and the earth are maintained. Some positions of imams will be cut and some will remain during their absence. The duty of guiding (hidāya) the people and interpreting the Shari‘a have been inherited by the jurists, so they have the right to give fatwā on behalf of the imams, though they give it differently’.44 Najaf Lakzā’ī does not, however, fully demonstrate how Ṣadrā’s statements regarding such a position demonstrate the political authority of the jurist. Sharīf Lakzā’ī, in his study of Ṣadrā’s politics (1395 Sh/ 2016),45 deals with his political views with the same approach and attempts to prove that a versatile philosophical basis for the political authority of the jurist should be sought in transcendent philosophy. He presents a useful chronological discussion on Ṣadrā’s work and the development of Ṣadrā’s political themes during three periods of his life. Another aspect of Sh. Lakzā’ī’s study is his discussion of certain ethical features in Ṣadrā’s politics, such as the love of humanity. Apart from this useful information, when the author comes to the main political points discussed throughout the eight chapters, he again provides further support to those studies that endorse the concept of the political authority of jurists. There are, however, some other studies focused on other aspects of Ṣadrā’s political philosophy. Abulḥasan Ḥasanī, in his short volume (1389 Sh/2013),46 invites the reader of Ṣadrā’s thought to review his philosophy of the human soul, ontology and epistemology from a different perspective. He believes that by doing so, we can find new solutions for modern dilemmas that face humanity today. Ḥasanī presents a very brief discussion on Ṣadrā’s moral philosophy and on the relationship between his moral principles and politics. The central thesis of Ḥasanī, however, is his arguments on ‘being really rational and religious’ or on ‘rationality and religiosity’ in political philosophy. He suggests four kinds of rationality: rational epistemological-politics (aqlāniyyat-i ma‘rifat-shinākhtī sīyāsa), rational semantic-politics (aqlāniyyat-i ma‘nā-shinākhtī sīyāsa), rational ethical-politics (aqlāniyyat-i akhlāq-i sīyāsa) and rational instrumental-politics (aqlāniyyat-i abzārī-i sīyāsa). The first would help us distinguish the extra-mental/ objective political concepts from the subjective, the second would save humanity from political nihilism, the third would rescue politics from corruption and injustice, and the fourth would suggest a model of secular politics within Ṣadrā’s

10  Political philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā rational philosophy. Hasanī claims that the model of Ṣadrā’s politics is capable of reconciling and benefiting from all four rationalities within a single framework. Transcendent politics is based on existential reality within certain moral principles, which suggests a transcendent aim (divine destiny) for humanity whilst still benefiting from human reason and secular politics.

The structure and contents of the book This book has seven chapters in addition to the introduction and concluding notes. Chapter 1 exposes new aspects of Ṣadrā’s life and very briefly examines the social situation of his time and the origin of the socio-political views of a philosopher who was contemporaneous with the five Safavid kings and a central player in that flowering of Persianate culture under the Safavids. We know very little about his personal and social life; nevertheless, in addition to a few scattered items of historical information, there are important passages in Ṣadrā’s oeuvre, such as Seh Aṣl and Kasr Aṣnām al-Jāhiliyya, and in the introductions to some of his work like Asfār, that give us reliable information about him. The benefit of these sources lies in Ṣadrā’s own criticism of his contemporary scholars and his challenges to those whom he believed had no true knowledge of religion and metaphysics. Relying on these primary sources, the first chapter reveals Ṣadrā’s correlation and dispute with theologians (mutakallimūn), literalists (zūhirīyyūn) or Akhbārīs, jurists and extreme mystics (ghālī Sufis) who have championed the opposition to his mystico-philosophical intellect. We will present an analytical discourse on the context surrounding Ṣadrā, including his opposition to the aforementioned trends followed by scholars and by particular ‘ulamās allied with the government, as well as the contemporary Safavid kings, in order to fill in aspects of key assumptions about the nature of his political and social attitudes, which are essential for a more holistic understanding of his political philosophy. Chapter 2 is focused on Ṣadrā’s philosophy of the human soul (‘ilm al-nafs) in order to map out the main features of the political aspects of this important part of his philosophy. Through a new approach to Ṣadrā’s philosophy of the human being and the spiritual journey, the aim is to show that his narrative of mysticism is an attempt to rethink the relationship between theory and praxis, with a close reciprocal relationship between this world and the next. In contrast to traditional epistemology, Ṣadrā places human knowledge within the larger context of being and makes an ontological link between knowledge and the human soul. Within this paradigm, knowledge is ‘realisation’, and realisation means that the existence of the human soul ‘extends’ in an ascending journey from a lower level of being to a higher. Having presented this original view on knowledge, it is proposed that Ṣadrā invests his ontology with an axiological dimension, in that the ontologically higher substance is not only greater in terms of its existential properties but also more perfect, real and worthy, since he believes that ontologically higher existents are closer to the truth and consequently to ‘power’ and ‘authority’. This will be the key premises of our discourse in Chapter 7, when an attempt is made to bring forth Ṣadrā’s ideas concerning political authority.

Political philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā  11 This narrative of Ṣadrā’s mysticism and the relationship between knowledge and power requires an understanding of his centrepiece, which is the substantial change (al-ḥarakat al-jawhariyya) of the human soul. It is through this interesting doctrine that Ṣadrā introduces the human soul as a dynamic entity, an ‘on-going substance’ within its own bodily origin; but another remarkable doctrine paves the way for this discourse on substantial change, which is that ‘the human soul is bodily in its advent and spiritual in its survival’ (al-nafs jismāniyat al-ḥudūth wa rūḥāniyyat al-baqā). Through this unique narrative on the nature of the human soul, we shall explain the mechanism of transformation of the human soul from bodily and mundane worldly involvement to the level of the ‘spiritual state’, the issue that, in Ṣadrā’s view, great figures within Islamic philosophy such as Ibn Sīnā and Suhrawardī failed to resolve. The idea of the inception of the soul in bodily existence whilst subsisting spiritually is a step beyond the Neoplatonic idea that the soul requires a physical vehicle for it to move forward. It is an ontological solution for the soul–body dichotomy and a way out of the aporia of mysticism and politics, serving as a means for analysing and interpreting his mystical politics, which are introduced in Chapter 4. In order to elaborate all these doctrines involved in Ṣadrā’s political philosophy, it has been necessary to explain how the core elements of this transcendent philosophy, i.e., the ‘primacy of existence over quiddity’ (aṣālat al-wujūd), the ‘gradational reality of existence’ (tashkīk al-wujūd) and the ‘unity in multiplicity’ (al-waḥdat fi’l kathra) can work together to form a new and distinct ‘ilm al-nafs’ with remarkable political implications. From this fresh approach to Ṣadrā’s psychology, it will become apparent that the mysticism in Ṣadrā’s thought is not merely an instrumental tool or a strategy adopted by him in relation to societal and political affairs but rather an essential part of the long process of the spiritual journey and the human path to ultimate happiness. Chapter 3 presents introductory information for our discourse on the characteristics of Ṣadrā’s political philosophy that appear in Chapter 4. The initial focus of this chapter is a concise presentation of the main traditional debates among certain eminent scholars of the time on the relations between Islam and politics. The chapter also analyses the importance of this tradition, and Mullā Ṣadrā’s key place in it, regarding the contemporary Shi‘i-Islamist discourse that took shape prior to the Iranian Revolution of 1979, forming a philosophical foundation whereby the authority of the jurist (wilāyat al-faqīh) was established. We then consider the contribution of Ṣadrā to the debate on whether Islam is political or apolitical and whether Ṣadrā is an advocate of a Shi‘a hierocracy and the political authority of jurists or an apolitical gnostic philosopher. In Chapter  4, the unique characteristics of Ṣadrā’s mysticism are examined from a different angle. Following an explanation of Ṣadrā’s mystical interpretation of the material world, his parallel argument concerning the nexus of the human psyche and this world is presented, where he speaks of two dimensions – the interior and exterior – in the material world, as well as religion as a phenomenon within this world. Interior and exterior permeate all realities, including nature, the human psyche and knowledge, as well as man’s understanding of religion

12  Political philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā and the divine law. This Ṣadrian mystical understanding of the universe is woven from the concept of ‘correspondence’ (taṭbīq) and the ‘gradations of existence’ (tashkīk al-wujūd), upon which rest the ramifications of Ṣadrā’s exceptional narrative regarding politics within his mystical discourse. The next argument in this respect is that this mystical worldview should not downplay the importance of human reason in his politics. Ṣadrā is known as a philosopher loyal to traditional fiqh who recognises the Shari‘a as the spirit vis-á-vis the body of politics, yet he nevertheless maintains his philosophical principles and implements his rational methodology as a tool for social law. Therefore, his narrative of the relationship between human wisdom and politics provides compelling evidence for introducing a new interpretation of secularism in his political philosophy, which regards the presence of religion in the public domain as useful and desirable, even though there is justification for organising civil matters according to reason. Chapter 5 explains Mullā Ṣadrā’s theory of justice in general and social justice in particular, which is again reflected in Ṣadrā’s mystical account of politics and is based on a threefold scheme of the harmony of being: (1) ethical justice expressed as equilibrium within the vegetal, animal and rational faculties of the human soul; (2) social justice as harmonious cooperation, giving precedence to the interests of the community over those of individuals in society; and (3) divine justice as the harmonious association of all natural entities in an existential system of causal relationships. This lies at the heart of Ṣadrā’s fundamental ontological struggle to reconcile the phenomenological experience of multiplicity, of the many individuals and affairs in personal and social life, with the notion of unity, of the One Being, leading the wayfarer to higher states of spirituality. This also implies the ontological confluence of justice and Truth (al-ḥaqq) and supports the idea of the ‘correspondence’ of the three realms comprised of the human psyche, society and nature. This is a shift of perspective that regards the concept of ‘justice’ as ‘ontic’ and ‘extra-mental’ and that expands the notion of justice beyond the realm of ethics and politics into the universal and comprehensive schema of his ontology and metaphysics. In order to understand this new concept of justice through which one can grasp Ṣadrā’s original theory of the ontic relationship between man’s spiritual perfection and his personal and social life, we have utilised his three psychological and metaphysical principles of the ‘goodness of unity’ (al-waḥdat khayrun), ‘unity in multiplicity’ (al-waḥda fī al-kathra) as the state of perfection for beings, and the ‘correspondence’ (taṭbīq) of the three realms of the human soul, society and the cosmos. In Chapter 6, distinguishing features of Ṣadrā’s narrative on the ‘virtuous city’ are examined. There is enough evidence that he has implemented the concept of the virtuous city into the Shi‘i notion of the Promised Society (Ummat al-Maw‘ūda) during the reappearance of Imam Mahdi, the Shi‘i Twelfth Imam, at the ‘End of the World’ (Ākhira al-Zamān). We also show that, according to Ṣadrā, the virtuous city is neither imaginary, as many Muslim and Western thinkers believe, nor does it refer exclusively to the time of the reappearance of the Imam. Taking a broader picture, we explain how Ṣadrā’s political outlook on the virtuous city reflects a

Political philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā  13 station on the spiritual path toward the Great Arising (Qiyāmat al-Kubrā) in the next world, where one may achieve a state of unity with the Truth. Therefore, it is not an absolutely perfect environment as was thought but rather is merely an intermediate stage in which the person (or citizen) should instinctively and ceaselessly strive for a better spiritual life in the final abode of the soul. Within the framework of the ontic relationship between spiritual and political life, as expressed in the previous chapter, the two notions Ṣadrā has of ‘the Minor Resurrection’ (al-Qiyāmat al-Ṣughrā) in contradistinction to the ‘Great Arising’ or ‘Great Resurrection’ (al-Qiyāmat al-Kubrā) are introduced, where he compares the virtuous city with the perfect society of the Twelfth Imam. Chapter  7 begins with an analysis of Ṣadrā’s arguments against the political authority of the jurist that tackles controversial contemporary questions of political Shi‘ism. It is essential for a more holistic understanding of his arguments on political authority to be aware of the doxographical and mystical literature of philosophers like Fārābī (d. 338/951), Ibn al-‘Arabī (d. 638/1240) and Suhrawardī (d. 587/1191) that displays a strong influence from the Pythagorean and Neoplatonic thought that was mediated through translations of original works that also resonated with Iamblichus. Mullā Ṣadrā’s discourse on the authority of the first leader drew upon these three thinkers, but it is philosophically sophisticated with immense mystical arguments that far exceed those of his predecessors. It is shown why he could not accept the political authority of the lawful Farabian king (malik al-sunna) or of Persian kings like Afrīdun and Kay-Khusraw, who purified themselves and received Divine Wisdom and Glory as Suhrawardī claimed, or the notion of the Sunni saint, or perfect man, of Ibn al-‘Arabi. This chapter also offers a detailed analysis of Ṣadrā’s approach to an important political view prevalent in his time and associated with the presence of the most eminent ‘ulamā in the Safavid court. In this regard, he strongly criticises the Safavid kings and openly disapproves of the scholars allied with them. He calls such a one an ignorant ‘ālim who wastes his life serving people of wealth and who fritters away his time in obedience (ubūdīya) to rulers (ḥukkām) and kings (salāṭīn). We then explore the meaning of ‘kingdom’ (salṭana) and related concepts in his philosophy such as ‘great kingship’ (salṭanat al-‘uzmā) and ‘lesser kingship’ (salṭana al-ṣughrā), and finally the ‘true owner of command’ (aṣḥāb al-rīyāsa) regarding earthly ­authority over the people, where there is a discussion of Ṣadrā’s discourse on the first leader’s political authority, as expressed within the comprehensive philosophical arguments already examined in earlier chapters. The present volume is primarily an analytical study of Ṣādrā’s books and treatises with a focus on the nine volumes of his magnum opus, al-Ḥikmat al-Muta‘ālīya fi al-Asfār al-‘Aqliyya al-Arba‘a, known as Asfār, which we frequently refer to in this study by the book title rather than by the name of the author.47 All the references to Asfār are from the standard Qum/Beirut publication with annotations by Hājj Mullā Hādī Sazavari and M. Husayn Ṭabāṭabā’ī, which has been reprinted from the 1950s up until the present day and is found in most libraries. I follow the standard IJMES transliteration system with the following ­exceptions: ‘z’ with no dot below is used for ‘‫ ’ظ‬in both Arabic and Persian; the connection

14  Political philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā between two Persian words in adjectival phrases, or idāfa, is shown by ‘-i’ and ‘-yi’ for words that end in vowels; and for ‘‫ ’ و‬in Persian, I use ‘v’ rather than ‘w’. Arabic words that end in ‘‫ ’ه‬and ‘‫’ة‬are transliterated as ending in ‘a’ rather than ‘ah’, but I indicate the character tā marbūṭa in the construct state, so the ‘Greater Occultation’ would be al-Ghaybat al-Kubrā rather than al-Ghayba al-Kubrā. I  drop the definite article ‘al-’ from names following the Persian ­convention unless the name appears with ‘al’ in the cited works. The definite article is always rendered ‘al-’, irrespective of any consonant that may follow it. To be ­consistent with English book titles, Arabic and Persian titles have corresponding capitals, so ‘‫ ’الحکمة العرشیه‬would be al-Ḥikmat al-Arshiyya rather than al-Ḥikmat al-arshiyya. Words in common usage such as Imam, Shari‘a, Shi‘a, Sufi and famous ­cities are not transliterated. Solar dates and dates before Christ are differentiated from lunar and Gregorian dates with the addition of ‘Sh’, ‘BCE’ and ‘CE’, respectively. Finally, I use Shi‘i and Sunni and not Shi‘ite and Sunnite. I would like to mention here several wonderful people with love and gratitude. The present volume is the result of an exploration of Mullā Ṣadrā’s extremely recondite philosophical arguments and reinterpreting his philosophy. In this I am indebted to my late professor, Sayyid Jalāl al-Dīn Āshtīyānī. Attending his prolific classes for more than ten years was a great opportunity for me to come to terms with the subtleties of transcendent philosophy and Islamic mysticism. Many years ago, when I  began my PhD under the supervision of Professor James W. Morris, he planted the seed of my fascination with the practical aspects of transcendent philosophy. This book is a product of his inspiration, and I feel honoured to have his invaluable foreword included in it. I cannot thank Professor Oliver Leaman enough for his extremely useful comments and kind support, without which this book would never have come to fruition. I am immensely grateful to Professor Andrew Newman for his guidance and his important and incisive reflections throughout various stages of this work and to Dr Sajjād Rizvi for his excellent observations. I would like to express thanks to Dr Rebecca Masterton, who read the manuscript with great care and precision, and to Mr Trevor Banyard for his valuable editorial assistance and for helping me give final shape to the book. I would like to acknowledge the professionalism and assistance of Mr Joe Whiting, the editor of Middle East Studies, and Miss Titanilla Panczel, editorial assistant at Routledge, who made the process of publishing easy and pleasurable. Without the boundless love and generosity of my beloved wife Farzāneh, this book would never have been written. I dedicate this work to the memory of my beloved father and mother. May it be a worthy memorial!

Notes 1 Seyyid Hossein Nasr and Henry Corbin, who were the first to write about Mullā Ṣadrā in European languages, translated ‘al-ḥikmat al-muta‘āliyya’ as transcendent theosophy. Nasr believes the doctrines of Ṣadrā are theosophy rather than philosophy because

Political philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā  15

2



3 4 5 6 7 8

9

10

11 12 13 14

they are not derived from discursive thought alone but are ultimately the fruit of the divine order. See H. Nasr (1997a: 57); Henry Corbin (1993: tr. P. ­Sherrard); H. Nasr and O. Leaman, eds. (1996a: II, 1139–1174); Hossein Ziai (1996a: II, 1125–1138). Thanks to this scholarship, today we have a good picture of Ṣadrā’s life and times. Therefore, a short account of his life is provided in Chapter 1, mostly in the context of the cultural and political ambience of his era. For information on his life, see H. Nasr (1997a); John Cooper (1998: REPh, VI, 595–599); I. Kalin (2003b: IS, vol. 42, no. 1: 21–62); S. Rizvi (2007, 2005: EIr, online edition); N. Bāqirī Khurramdashtī, with F. Aṣgharī (1378 Sh/1999). Mullā Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: 4). Asfār (IX: 121). Ṣadrā (1378 Sh: 55–58). Mullā Ṣadrā (n.d.c.: 13). Mullā Ṣadrā (1381 Sh: 45). On Khomeini and the political tradition of Ṣadrā, see L. Ridgeon (2014: 193–210); D. Brumberg (2001); V. Martin (2000). See also ‘Imād Afrūq (2007/1386 Sh: PḤ, no. 217, 4–18); Ṣādiq Ḥaqīqat (2014/1393 Sh: MN, no. 36). Mullā Hādī Sabzavārī (d. 1873), the most influential commentator of Ṣadrā’s thought, Āqā ‘Ali Muddaris (d. 1818) and Āqā ‘Alī Zunūzī (d. 1889), and modern contemporary Persian scholars like Sayyid Muhammad Husayn Ṭabāṭabā’ī (d. 1981), Sayyed Jalāl al-Din Ashtīyānī (1925–2005), Hasan Ḥasanzādeh Āmulī (b. 1928) and Abdullah Javādī Āmulī (b. 1933), characterise Mullā Ṣadrā within this category and introduce him as a Shi‘a mystic-philosopher with a very strong sympathy for and loyalty to Ibn al-‘Arabi, Qūnawī and Qushayrī. Nevertheless, my late professor Jalāl al-Din Ashtīyānī, who is perhaps the most prominent individual to contribute to the revision, editing and interpretation of Mullā Ṣadrā’s major works, in conversation with me did not express any objection to a possible link between Ṣadrā’s mystical approach and a practical philosophy, although he always warned me not to lapse into an unsatisfactory interpretation of Ṣadrā’s transcendent philosophy of his own. For an excellent study and collection of treatises and glosses of the last few centuries in Persian by Ṣadrā’s commentators, see S.J. Āshtīyānī (1363 Sh: 4 vols.); also Nasr (2006); Dabashi (1993: 273–323); for later scholars of transcendent philosophy in Persian, see Ḥā’irī Māzandarānī (1956: 4 vols.). Before Nasr and Corbin, a preliminary study of Mullā Ṣadrā by European scholars began in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries by French scholar Comte de Gobineau (d. 1882) and German orientalist Max Horten (d. 1945), both of whom are handicapped by basic miscomprehensions of Ṣadrā’s intricate philosophical discourses. Gobineau had an interest in Persia and wrote a travelogue entitled Trois ans en Asie (1859) and an unscholarly Histoire des Perses (1969). These works were followed by an amateurish book on philosophy entitled Les religions et philosophie en Asie ­centrale (1865), in which one finds his assessment of Mullā Ṣadrā. For more on ­Gobineau, see J. Calmard (EIr. XI: 20–24). Horten published a preliminary selection of translations from Asfār, as well as a study of the philosophy of Suhrawardī (d. 1191) in 1912. The following year saw the appearance of his main assessment of Mullā Ṣadrā, Das philosophische System von Schirazi (1913). Horten was the first academic to draw attention to the significance of the philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā and to praise its vitality and diligence. For a brief review of Horten’s other works on Islamic philosophy, see S. Rizvi (2009a: 4–6). This does not seem an accurate designation for Ṣadrā because ‘theosophy’ may be sometimes associated with ‘irrationalism’. See H. Nasr (1997a). H. Nasr (2005: JTPh, VI). Mullā Ṣadrā, tr. S.H. Nasr, ed. Ibrahim Kalin (2014).

16  Political philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā 15 He translates ‘al-ḥikmat al-ilāhiyyah’ as ‘theosophia’. See Henry Corbin (1971: vol. I, 24). 16 Henry Corbin (197: vol. IV, 158). 17 See H. Corbin (1981) 18 H. Corbin, History of Islamic Philosophy, tr. Liadain Sherrard (1993: 23, 108, 158–166). 19 See H. Corbin (1972: vol. IV, 52–122). 20 See Toshihiko Izutsu and Mahdi Mohaghegh (1983); T. Izutsu (1970). 21 T. Izutsu (1994). 22 T. Izutsu (2002). 23 T. Izutsu (1979: Er, XLVIII, 434–435). 24 Mullā Ṣadrā, al-Ḥikmat al-‘Arshiyya (The Wisdom of the Throne), tr. and annot. James Winston Morris (1981); Zailan Moris’s 1994 doctoral dissertation (published in 2003 under Revelation, Intellectual Intuition and Reason in the Philosophy of Mulla Sadra: An Analysis of the al-Hikma al-‘Arshiyyah) undertook research on the reconciliation of reason (‘aql), revelation (waḥy) and mystical insight (kashf ). Her work is, on the whole, derivative, relying upon Morris’s translation, and repetitive. Her discourse is in many ways also a culmination of Nasr’s statement on this ‘reconciliation’ in his pioneering article of the 1960s; Sharif (1966: II, 938–939). 25 Morris (1981: 42–44); for possibly drawing a new political philosophy from transcendent philosophy, I was inspired by Professor James Morris as my supervisor (2000– 2005), when I first embarked on my doctoral research at the University of Exeter. 26 Jambet’s The Act of Being was originally published in French as L’acte d’être: la philosophie de la révélation chez Mollâ Sadrâ (2002). 27 Jambet (2006: 420–423). 28 There are also two studies on Ṣadrā’s thought with a historical approach that introduce him as an apolitical philosopher-mystic: (1) Mangol Bayat, in Mysticism and Dissent: Socioreligious Thought in Qajar Iran (1982), claims that Ṣadrā was not involved in any theoretical and practical politics. For Bayat, Mullā Ṣadrā was one of the Shi‘a philosophers whose concerns were only metaphysics and mysticism, as well as the attempt to transcend to the true religion, through an inner interpretation of the Qur’an and hadith that would keep spirituality alive against the influence of the literalist and legalistic ‘ulamā; and (2) Kathryn Babayan in her PhD thesis, The Waning of the Qizilbash: The Spiritual and the Temporal in Seventeenth Century Iran (1987–93: 138), describes Mullā Ṣadrā as ‘the philosophising Sufi’, a ‘mystically-inclined ‘ālim’, and an ‘ārif, who chose to stay aloof from political involvement in his intellectual mission. In the historical context of the rise of the Safavid dynasty and the ghulāt movement, Babayan describes Ṣadrā’s thought as a ‘vagueness’ (1987–1993: 243), which indicates that she is unable to appreciate the intricate nature of Ṣadrā’s work. 29 See Tamara Sonn (1991: MW, LXXXI, no. 3–4, 212–230). 30 See F. Rahman (1975). On Rahmān’s legacy, see Earle H. Waugh and Frederick M. Denny, eds. (1998). 31 On the Hermeneutics of the Light Verse of the Qur’an, tr. Parvin Peerwani (2004). 32 Mullā Ṣadrā (2008), Spiritual Psychology: The Fourth Intellectual Journey in Transcendent Philosophy. 33 M. Dakake (2004: MW, 94(1): 107–130). 34 For more from Dakake, see her ‘The Origin of Man in Pre-Eternity and His Origination in Time: Mullā Ṣadrā and Imāmī Shī‘ite Tradition’ (1999: EsExH, 147–166). 35 S. Rizvi (2013). 36 S. Rizvi (2009a). 37 S. Rizvi (2012: BSOAS, vol. 75, no. 1, 33–45). 38 Ibrahim Kalin, Knowledge in Later Islamic Philosophy: Mullā Sadrā on Existence, Intellect, and Intuition (2010). 39 See, for example, Ibrahim Kalin (2000: JTPh I, no. 1, 74–91).

Political philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā  17 40 Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: 38–39); Mullā Ṣadrā (2008: 36). For example, see also Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: 57, 69, 70, 76); Mullā Ṣadrā (2008: 26–27). 41 For example, Mohammed Rustom’s volume, The Triumph of Mercy: Philosophy and Scripture in Mullā Ṣadrā (2012), intertwines quotes from Ṣadrā’s various works to demonstrate his central thesis on the method of Ṣadrā’s interpretation of the Qurʾan and some controversial Qur’anic issues such as the eternity of hell, the relationship between man and God in terms of the scriptural teachings of the Origin, the path of Return, the final Return to God, and the concept of ‘soteriology’ as an issue interconnected with God’s mercy. There is also Rustom’s ‘Psychology, Eschatology, and Imagination in Mullā Ṣadrā Shīrāzī’s Commentary on the Ḥadīth of Awakening’ (2007: IS, 5 [1], 9–22); similarly, Karim Crow (2005), in his ‘Mullā Ṣadrā on the First Intellect in his Sharḥ Uṣūl al-Kāfī,’ in Eschatology, Exegesis, Hadith, deals with Ṣadrā’s interpretations of hadiths (1999: EsExH, 571–590); for other aspects of Ṣadrā’s philosophy, see Megawati Moris, Mullā Ṣadrā’s Doctrine of the Primacy of Existence (2003); Janis Esots, ‘Mullā Ṣadrā’s Teaching on Wujūd: A Synthesis of Philosophy and Mysticism’ (2007: PhD diss.); Eiyad Al-Kutubi, Mulla Sadra and Eschatology: Evolution of Being (2014). 42 As representative examples of this category, I  would only mention the following works: A. Açikgenç, Being and Existence in Ṣadrā and Heidegger: A  Comparative Ontology (1993); M. Kamal, Mullā Ṣadrā’s Transcendent Philosophy (2006) and From Essence to Being (2009); D. Burrell, ‘Aquinas and Mullā Ṣadrā on the Primacy of Existence’; and M. Kamal, ‘Parmenides and Mullā Ṣadrā: The Mystical Journey,’ in Alī Pāyā ed., The Misty Land of Ideas and the Light of Dialogue (2013, 31–48, 105– 126); C. Wilson, ‘Knowledge and Immortality in Spinoza and Mullā Ṣadrā’ (2002: WCM, vol. 4, 602–608); Muḥammad Bīdhandī, ‘Barrasī-yitaṭ bīqī-yitaʾ wīl-i Mullā Ṣadrā wa-hirminūtīk-i Haydigar’ (1387/2008: KhNS, no.53, 61–72). For more articles in this category, see volumes of the Journal of Transcendent Philosophy (2000–2016); for articles on comparative studies in Persian, see the ‘Collection of the Papers Presented at the First World Congress on Mullā Ṣadrā (1999: 4 vols.); see also the website of the Mullā Ṣadrā Congress, URL (www.mullasadra.org/papers/) and the Journal of Kheradnameh Sadra. On possible ways to carry out comparative studies of the political philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā, see S.K. Toussi, ‘Falsafe Siyāsi Mullā Ṣadrā va Martin Heidegger’ (1387 Sh./2008: JPS, in Persian, no. 43, 16–43); Mohammad Rafi‘, ‘Reworking the Philosophy of Martin Heidegger: Iran’s Revolution of 1979 and Its Quest for Cultural Authenticity’ (2013: SATC, 15–17); Ali Mirsepassi, Political Islam, Iran, and the Enlightenment: Philosophies of Hope and Despair (2011). 43 Andīshe-yi Sīyāsī Ṣadr al-Muta’lihīn (Political Thought of Ṣadrā al-Muta’alihīn). 44 Lakzā’ī (1381 Sh: 138–140). 45 Falsaf-i Sīyāsī-i Ṣadr al-Muta’ahilīn (Political Philosophy of Ṣadr al-Muta’alihīn). 46 Muqadame-e bar Ḥikmat Siyāsī-yi Muta‘āliyya (An Introduction to the Politics of Transcendent Philosophy). 47 Ṣadrā began compiling this philosophical and theological summa during his stay in Kahak, where he found the opportunity to meditate upon his inquiries and initiate the composition of his main works. It was commenced in 1015/1606 and completed in Shiraz on Friday, 7 Jumāda I, 1037/14 (January 1628). We know the year of his birth since he mentions that he was fifty-eight years old at the time.

1 Mullā Ṣadrā and the sociopolitical and cultural milieu

Synopsis From a heuristic standpoint, it is important to correlate the social and political attitudes of a creative mind with historical events in order to grasp the background and origin of his theoretical ideas. A study of the five Safavid kings contemporaneous with Mullā Ṣadrā, the cultural situation at the time and his relationship with other thinkers, as discussed in this chapter might disclose some hidden facets of his approach to social and political themes. The title of the chapter, however, should not suggest a comprehensive review of the cultural and intellectual environment of the Safavid period or indeed of the outlook of Ṣadrā’s leading proponents and critics. This examination of Ṣadrā’s life and cultural background begins with a brief account of his solitude whilst in retreat from public life, a fruitful period during which he contemplated how a thorough pedagogical methodology allied with divine grace might lead to self-realisation and perfection. Spiritual practice is a prerequisite for transcendent philosophy (al-ḥakīm al-muta‘āliya) as he describes it in the title of his major work. His transcendent philosophy is a quest for Truth, or Reality, beyond the scope of speculative and practical philosophy, theurgy, worldly life, and the study and practice of virtuous living. It is a journey initiated on a path from solitude to public life and the subsequent return from the multiplicity of the world and mankind to unity. For a more holistic understanding of Ṣadrā’s thought and methodology, it is essential to know something of his dispute with many of his contemporaries and predecessors among the ‘ulamā, whom he consistently criticised for their failure to conceive the subtle nature of a transcendent philosophy. For this reason, despite his immense respect for Ibn Sīnā and Suhrawardī and the magnitude of their knowledge and understanding, he regards neither of them as a sage (ḥakīm) or divine philosopher (ḥakīm muta’allih),1 let alone those theologians (mutakallimūn), literalists (zūhiriyyūn), traditionalists, hadith experts (akhbārīs), polemicists or extreme and heterodox Sufi mystics (ghālī Sufis) who have no mastery over a theoretical and practical philosophy and divinalia. In addition, he regarded cooperation with an oppressive government that was involved in improper behaviour as contrary to Islam and damaging to the face of religion.

20  The socio-political and cultural milieu While Ṣadrā criticised several of the ‘ulamā for their misinterpretation of the religion, he makes them part of a scientific inquiry and shows respect for many of them. His approach to various scholars is therefore complex, especially as regards some of his great teachers and students who had mastery over divine knowledge but who nonetheless had alliances with the Safavid court. This complicated rapprochement between Ṣadrā and his contemporary ‘ulamā must be seen against the background of its historical context.

Mullā Ṣadrā and his intellectual life Ṣadr al-Din Shirazi, known as Mullā Ṣadrā (979–1050/1571–1640), is perhaps the single most important and influential philosopher in the Muslim world of the last four hundred years.2 He was born in Shiraz in southern Iran to a well-known and influential family and spent the early transitional years of his theological training in that city. However, the traditional centre of Islamic education in Shiraz, which concentrated mainly on the transmitted sciences (‘ulūm al-naqliyya), such as law, jurisprudence and hadith studies, did not satisfy the magnitude of his intellect. As well as the intellectual sciences, he considered spiritual training to be essential for those aspiring to gain true knowledge of divine wisdom (al-ḥikmat al-ilāhiyya).3 In an autobiographical essay at the beginning of his Asfār, Ṣadrā states that after mastering the earlier philosophers, he was confronted with literalists (zāhiryyūn) and Akhbārīs (ahl al-ḥadīth)4, who were the predominant academic group in Shiraz and whom he compares to the Ḥanbalite scholars of hadith known in Islamic history for their strict literalism and anti-intellectualism.5 He describes such people in strong terms, as ignorant, and admonishes them for failing to understand the intellectual and inner aspects of Islam. He also criticised those jurists and scholars of hadiths (holy traditions) who were content with the outer aspects of hadith and whose intellects were not mature enough to understand the inner meanings of the Shari‘a.6 All this seems to have been the main factor in Ṣadrā’s decision to migrate from his hometown to Isfahan, where, under the supervision of a number of eminent scholars, he studied the classical sciences of philosophy, theology, jurisprudence and mysticism. He studied with the most celebrated teachers of the time, amongst whom both Sayyid Muhammad Bāqir Astarābādī, known as Mīr Dāmād7 (d. 1040/1631) and Bahā’ al-Din Muhammad al-Āmilī, known more popularly as Shaykh Bahā’ī (d. 1031/1622), had the greatest influence on him. Some sources include Mīr Abul Qāsim Findiriskī (d. 1050/1640–1) among the masters with whom Ṣadrā studied in Isfahan.8 Of all his teachers, Mīr Dāmād occupies a special place. Ṣadrā became so successful in mastering the intellectual sciences under Mīr Dāmād that he eventually outshone his teacher.9 As well as the intellectual sciences, in Isfahan he studied the transmitted sciences in depth under Bahā’ alDin al-Āmilī, one of the most famous jurists and theologians of the Safavid era.10 After completing his training in 1010/1601,11 he returned to Shiraz, but failing to find an adequate patron and again facing opposition and criticism in a city that had forgotten the value of the study of philosophy, he retreated to Kahak, a

The socio-political and cultural milieu  21 small village outside the holy city of Qum,12 where it is reported that he stayed for between seven to ten years. In the very brief autobiographical essay at the beginning of Asfār, Ṣadrā writes that, during the first half of his solitude in Kahak, he neither wrote nor taught but simply worked on his soul through constant supplications to God. He gives his own reasons for his retreat, explaining it on the basis of his philosophical vocation, whose ultimate aim could not be achieved by mere study alone. As he repeats throughout his various works, such spiritual practice includes the cleansing of the soul, discovering inner calm, and asking for God’s help in resolving the difficult problems of metaphysics, without which one cannot approach the delicate matter of divine knowledge.13 He writes: I came to know divine secrets that I had never before comprehended; mysterious enigmas unveiled themselves in a manner that rational argumentation had never before been able to unfold. Or rather, all the metaphysical secrets that I had known through rational proofs, I now finally experienced with intuitive perception and direct vision.14 This period of solitude in retreat from public life was the most fruitful for his intellectual development. During that time, he was in search of a method that would give him certainty and transform rational propositions into experienced truth.15 He neither attempted to base truth on dogmatic theology nor accepted that rational principles were valid beyond doubt and without limitation; by relying on traditional religious sources and a demonstrative rational method, he suggested a historically new and lastingly influential interpretation of Shi‘a thought, which became known as ‘transcendent philosophy’ (al-ḥikmat al-muta‘āliya).16 Most of his major works were completed during the second half of his period of spiritual retreat, at a time when he also trained a number of well-known scholars and philosophers, including Muhammad b. Murtaḍā, known as Mullā Muḥsen Fayḍ Kashani (d. 1090/1679), and Mullā Abd al-Razzāq Lāhījī (d. 1072/1661), both of whom later became his sons-in-law. Without doubt, Fayḍ Kashani was the most important of Ṣadrā’s students, a prolific and exceptional polymath and a specialist in scriptural and intellectual disciplines.17 Although Abd al-Razzāq Lāhījī was a devoted student, in his mature works he rejected a number of the key doctrines espoused by Mullā Ṣadrā. However, he played an important role in the spread of his master’s ideas, among which Shawāriq al-Ilhām is noteworthy.18 In addition to these two immediate students, after his death Ṣadrā had a long line of followers, since his ideas continued to influence the Persian and Indian worlds in the post-Safavid era.19 His school of philosophy still thrives in Iran, generating numerous thinkers to this day. In 1040/1630–1631, Mullā Ṣadrā moved back permanently to his home town at the request of (possibly his former student) Imam Qulī Khān (d. 1042/1633), the governor of Fārs. He was invited to Shiraz to teach in the seminary at the Madrasa-yi Khān (School of Khān), founded by Khān’s father, Allāhverdī Khān (d. 1022/1613). This madrasa had been completed by Imam Qulī Khān with an express purpose of teaching philosophy and science. Ṣadrā completed his

22  The socio-political and cultural milieu magnum opus, the Four Intellectual Journeys (al-Asfār al-‘Aqliyya al-Arba‘a) in Shiraz in 1038/1628, and in the same year the English traveller Sir Thomas Herbert described the madrasa: ‘and [indeed] Shiraz has a college wherein is read Philosophy, Astrology, Physic, Chemistry and the Mathematics; so as ‘tis the more famoused through Persia.’20 This late period of his life was productive, and he was much respected as a teacher in his home town. After an illustrious and prolific career, he died in Basra on his way to his seventh pilgrimage to Mecca.21 Ṣadrā composed about fifty-three works on both the transmitted and intellectual sciences spanning the entire spectrum of traditional philosophy, from cosmology and psychology to metaphysics and Qur’anic and hadith commentary. All his works are in Arabic, except for Seh Aṣl and a short collection of mystical poems in Persian, his mother tongue. His Asfār can be read as a classical encyclopaedia of Islamic philosophy.22

The Safavid Kingdom of Ṣadrā’s time The Safavid dynasty (907/1501–1135/1722) ruled over one of the greatest of the Persian Empires. It reunited Iran under the rule of a Persian king for the first time since the Arab conquest and the Islamisation of Iran. In contrast to the Sunni Islam of the Ottomans to the west and the Uzbeks to the north-east of Iran, Ismā‘īl I (1501–1524), the founder of the Safavid dynasty, established Twelver Shi‘ism as the official faith, in order both to promulgate the faith’s doctrines and practices throughout the empire and to encourage the view of himself as a direct descendent of the Shi‘i Imams and the new faith’s chief defender. Therefore, Ismā‘īl’s motives seem to have been partly religious and cultural conviction and partly political expediency.23 Be that as it may, his decision was a turning point in the history of Iran and had many profound religious, cultural and political consequences.24 Mullā Ṣadrā was contemporaneous with five Safavid kings: Shah Ṭahmāsp I (1524–1576), Shah Ismā‘īl II (1576–1577), Shah Muhammad Khudābandeh (1578–1587), Shah Abbās I (1588–1629) and Shah Ṣafī I (1629–1642), but most of his intellectual activity was accomplished during the time of Abbās I and Ṣafī I. The process of establishing Twelver Imami Shi‘ism as the official religious code had begun when Ṣadrā commenced his philosophical career in Isfahan, in central Iran.25 Abbās I had moved the capital to Isfahan, and this had profound implications for the Safavids, signalling a new phase in the shah’s programme of assimilating the semi-autonomous regions on the periphery of the empire. This kind of programme was consistent with medieval strategies and policies, where local networks of the political and religious elite were sponsored and co-opted by the state. The city of Isfahan subsequently was embellished with monumental architecture, both religious and secular, patronised poets, artists and philosophers, and promoted contact with Europe.26 Ismā‘īl I was the descendant of Shaykh Ṣafī al-Din Isḥāq Ardabili (d. 735/1334), who originally was a Sufi master descended from a Kurdish family in north-­ western Iran. Shaykh Ṣafī belonged to an offshoot of the Qādiriyya order of Sunni

The socio-political and cultural milieu  23 Islam that was founded in Baghdad. The transformation of the political orientation of the order to Shi‘a Islam began when the Shaykh advocated the idea of jihād (holy war) against non-Muslims as well as corrupt Muslim rulers in Persia. He recruited the support of Turkish and Kurdish tribesmen, who became privileged members of both the Safavid brotherhood and the politico-military and administrative backbone of the empire. They became known as the Qizilbāsh (redheads) on account of the red hats they wore. There is little doubt, however, that the total conversion of the order to Shi‘a Islam and the establishment of the dynasty took place at the time of Shah Ismā‘īl I (1501–1524), the grandson of Junayd, who marched on Tabriz in 1501 and designated himself king (shāh).27 After Ismā‘īl’s death, his nine-year-old son Ṭahmāsp was appointed shah. He was too young to rule in his own right and came under the control of the Qizilbāsh, the Turkic tribesmen who were by now the mainstay of Safavid power. The Qizilbāsh leaders fought amongst themselves for the right to be the regent of Ṭahmāsp. Upon adulthood, however, Ṭahmāsp was able to reassert his own power and control the tribesmen. He gradually became an influential ruler and enjoyed the longest reign (fifty-two years) of any member of the Safavid dynasty. His rule was marked by foreign threats, primarily from the Ottomans and the Uzbeks, as well as a fighting within the Qizilbāsh.28 Yet by the early 1530s, Shah Ṭahmāsp had finally disentangled himself from Qizilbāsh rivalries and machinations, and the programme of establishing Safavid rule in accordance with Twelver Shi‘ite Imami doctrine was well under way. His administration and chancellery were by now partially staffed by functionaries who were familiar with the imagery and tropes associated with Twelver Shi‘ism and well versed in Shi‘ite fiqh (law).29 Conflict within the Qizilbāsh and threats from abroad had provided an opportunity for Shah Ṭahmāsp to implicitly project a superior image of the shah as defender of the faith and the territory, thus reinforcing his spiritual legitimacy and political authority precisely when they were needed. As late as 1571, five years before his death, a report from Venice noted that Ṭahmāsp’s subjects regarded him as ‘not a king, but as a representative of God, on account of his descent from the line of Ali’.30 His proclamation of spiritual and political authority and of nonparticipation was logically combined with the power and influence of the Shi‘i ‘ulamā in the Safavid state, who sought to promote Ṭahmāsp’s image as the protector of Shi‘ism, both in Iran and elsewhere.31 There was much debate during this period regarding the Imamate and its representation during the occultation, and Shah Ṭahmāsp associated himself with a group of Shi‘i scholars who advocated ‘interpretive reasoning’ (ijtihād) concerning the authority and deputyship of the Imamate. Orthodox Shi‘ite elements within the chancellery also promoted an elaborate cosmology, whereby the ­Safavids hoped to restore the true Muslim state some eight hundred years after its suppression by Sunnis who opposed the Imamate. With the legal apologia of Ali al-Karakī (d. 940/1534)32 in hand, Ṭahmāsp embraced the role of al-sultān al-‘ādil, ‘the just ruler’, who serves in the absence of the Hidden Imam but who may not act as a religious authority. He was often recognised for his status as murshid al-kāmil33 (perfect spiritual guide), a title that Mullā Ṣadrā never used

24  The socio-political and cultural milieu for any king or individual in political power but applied to his teachers, especially Mīr Dāmād.34 The coexistence of Shi‘i ideological and political beliefs with jurisprudence was supported by many of the legalists and traditionalists (ahl al-ḥadīth), as well as by mystic philosophers like Ghīyās al-Din Mansūr Dashtakī (d. 948/1542)35 and Mīr Dāmād.36 In 1533, Ṭahmāsp issued an edict (farmān) ceding authority over the realm’s religious affairs to Karakī, ordering all officials and those in high rank to offer their ‘obedience and submission in all affairs’ to Karakī, who was styled the ‘seal of the mujtahids’ and ‘general deputy’ (nāib al-‘āmm)’ of the Imam. He justified these close ties with the Safavid court by referring to great scholars such as Sayyid Murtaḍā, known as al-Sharīf al-Murtaḍā (d. 436/1044), and his brother Sayyid Raḍī (d. 406/1015), Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī (d. 672/1274), and Ḥasan b. Yūsuf b. al-Muṭahhar al-Ḥillī (d. 726/1325), who had also maintained close relationships with the rulers of their times and accepted high-ranking positions, substantial gifts and large parcels of land offered to them.37 This in turn created a political environment at the court that encouraged a migration of Shi‘ite jurisprudents from the Arab world to Tabriz and Qazvin, as well as notables and sayyids from Shi‘a centres like Qum, Mashhad and Astarābād.38 Ṭahmāsp died as a result of poisoning, though it is unclear whether it was accidental or deliberate.39 There was infighting amongst different court factions after Ṭahmāsp’s death, during which Ḥaydar Mirzā emerged as a rival for the throne40 but was subsequently killed, and his half-brother Ismā‘īl, who had been imprisoned by his father Ṭahmāsp since 1555, succeeded as Shah Ismā‘īl II. The history of Ismā‘īl II’s short reign is characterised by two broad themes: his policy to reintroduce Sunnism as the state doctrine and a deranged dread that resulted in the extermination of most of the royal family.41 The available evidence from this period seems to suggest that Ismā‘īl II was committed to maintaining the Shi‘ite ideological framework of Safavid sovereignty, whilst seeking to undermine the power and scope of the Shi‘ite clerical structure. He is said to have consorted with Sunni dervishes and, following his accession, to have objected to the ritual Shi‘i cursing of the first three caliphs and the Prophet’s wife ‘Āisha, as well as ordering poetry praising the Imams erased from the mosques of the capital.42 Ismā‘īl II decimated the royal family and alienated Arab and Persian Shi‘ite personalities alike with his challenges to the religious establishment. He reclaimed land grants given to prominent sayyids and Shi‘i clerics and urged them to embrace the Sunni Shafi‘ī school. He sought out individuals who could help disassemble the Shi‘i hegemonic structure that had emerged under Shah Ṭahmāsp, and it was not surprising to see him turning to Sunni Persian notables, scholastics and theologians from Shiraz and Isfahan, such as Mīrzā Makhdūm Sharīfī (d. 995/1587), Mawlānā Jān Shirazi,43 Shah ‘Ināyat Allah Isfahani (d. 1033/1618) and Mīr Makhdūm Lāleh (d. 947/1532).44 His principal targets were the grandson of Ali Karakī, Mīr Sayyid Husain al-Karakī (d. 1001/1592), Mīr Sayyid Ali Khatīb (d. 988/1573) and other ‘radical’ Shi‘ites of the Astarābādī clique who had come to dominate religious politics in Qazvin and elsewhere since the 1540s.45

The socio-political and cultural milieu  25 Regarding his wider ideological programme of creating a unique Safavid amalgam of pre-Islamic divine absolutism and Sufi notions of the perfect spiritual authority, Shah Ismā‘īl II faced resistance and dissent early on from marginalised Qizilbāsh elements and entrenched clerical forces. He made alliances with co-opted tribes, such as the Ustajlü and the Dhu al-Qadar, but his most important partnership was undoubtedly with the Persian administrative class, whom he sought to invest with exclusive legal power, both religious and secular.46 At any rate, Ismā‘īl II’s Sunnism was in itself an invocation of the Shari‘a with the intention of providing himself with a weapon enabling him to undermine the power of the Shi‘i ‘ulamā, and establish a new balance of power between the Iranian aristocracy and those Qizilbāsh tribes still active in the political field. Owing to their mutual rivalry, both these elements were not unwilling to give him a certain degree of support.47 After Ismā‘īl’s mysterious death in 1577 and two months of de facto rule by Parī Khān Khanūm, the Persian administrator Mīrzā Salmān Jābirī managed to make his way to Shiraz and convince Sultan Muhammad Khudābandeh (d. 995/1587), known also as Öljeitü, to assume the throne. Sultan Muhammad, his wife Khair al-Nisā Begum (Mahd-i Ulyā), along with the sizeable retinue he had accrued in Shiraz, proceeded to the Safavid capital of Qazvin. Trading contacts with European powers were strong during Muhammad Khudābandeh’s reign,48 which is described as one of weakness, indifference and incompetence, bringing few benefits.49 His ten-year rule witnessed a resumption of Twelver Shi‘ism as the established faith and the person of the shah as chief spokesman and defender of Islam.50 His affiliations with mystics and scholar-bureaucrats in the chancellery and elsewhere were symbiotic. Sufis looked to Khudābanda and the sanctity of his royal station as a means of protection and support against the twin threats of the Shi‘ite jurists and the Qizilbāsh Turks. We know, for instance, that the Ni‘matullāhīs prospered considerably in their home city of Yazd during this period. The Ni‘matullāhī Murshid Mīr Ghīyāth al-Din Muhammad Mīr-Mīrān oversaw such widespread revitalisation in Yazd that it was ‘virtually a principality in its own right’.51 Abbās I, the third son of Shah Muhammad, was considered the greatest ruler of the Safavid dynasty. He came to the throne during a troubled time for Iran, since under his weak willed father, the country had become riven with discord among different factions of the Qizilbāsh army, who had killed Abbās’s mother and elder brother. Meanwhile, Iran’s enemies, the  Ottoman Empire  and the  Uzbeks, had exploited this political chaos to seize territory for themselves. In 1587, one of the Qizilbāsh leaders, Murshid Qulī Khān, overthrew Shah Muhammad in a coup and placed the sixteen-year-old Abbās on the throne. Abbās was aware of the influence of the Qizilbāsh and their potential threat to the court, so he reduced their power in the government and reformed the army. This reformation of the army enabled him to fight the Ottomans and Uzbeks and to reconquer Iran’s lost provinces. He also took back land from the Portuguese and Mughals. Under Abbās, the capital was moved from  Qazvin  to  Isfahan, bureaucracies were standardised, mercantile systems were centralised, a military culture was

26  The socio-political and cultural milieu introduced and systematised, and ethnic populations were socially engineered.52 Abbās minimised the power of traditional, internal Safavid institutions such as the Imami jurists, the sayyid53 networks and the Persian ahl al-qalam (literally, people of the pen).54 He was careful to avoid any particular hierocrat or group of clerics accruing undue power. He also censured those who cursed the first three Sunni caliphs (tabarrā’īyūn), and the broadcasting of ritual curses (la‘n) amongst the Iranian populace was no longer the norm, as it had been during the reign of Ṭahmāsp.55 While orthodox Shi‘ite elements still played a vital role regarding the religious law and enforcing orthopraxy across the empire, they no longer enjoyed the power they once had under Shah Ṭahmāsp. Nonetheless, Shah Abbās continued to be their patron and protector and sought their ­opinions on various legal matters, disseminating their treatises throughout the Safavid Empire.56 Ordinary, popular Sufism suffered harassment and the full weight of official censure, while philosophers and theologians in the Neoplatonist tradition of Ibn Sīnā and Suhrawardī still enjoyed relative support and patronage.57 It was during this time (the early seventeenth century) that the key philosophers and theologians Shaykh Bahā’ī and Mīr Muhammad Bāqir Dāmād – the teachers of Mullā Ṣadrā – ­elevated the reputation of Isfahan as a prominent centre of doctrinal and philosophical inquiry. Shaykh Bahā’ī’s relationship with Shah Abbās was volatile, but he also appears to have been quite closely connected with the administration at times. He wrote official correspondence to his Ottoman counterparts and dedicated his treatise on the astrolabe to the chief vizier, Hātim Beg Urdūbādī.58 Mīr Dāmād had a close relationship with Shah Abbās and the administration. He prepared a number of theological texts for the Safavid chancellery to send as official correspondence to the Ottoman court in the 1590s and also sent letters to the ‘ulamā of Baghdad. During the Safavid invasion of Iraq and the attack on Baghdad in 1032/1623, Mir Dāmād was asked by Shah Abbās to produce a fatwā (edict, injunction) stating that Safavid soldiers killed in battle were to be hailed as martyrs, whilst those who fled could be legally declared rebels.59 Mir Dāmād also participated in Ṣafī’s accession, led the Friday prayer in Isfahan thereafter, and accompanied Ṣafī on a trip to Iraq, during which he died. Karakī Isfahani calls Mīr Dāmād ‘the seal of the mujtahids’, a title previously ascribed to Mīr Dāmād’s ancestor Ali Karakī and the latter’s daughter’s son, Sayyid Husayn Karakī.60 The sixth Safavid ruler, the last contemporary with Mullā Ṣadrā, was Shah Ṣafī, who had been given the name Sām Mīrzā when he was born. He was the son of Muhammad Bāqir Mīrzā, the eldest son of Shah Abbās I, and Dīlāram Khanūm, a Georgian wife.61 The transition between Abbās and Ṣafī was relatively smoother than earlier ones, but there were political tensions arising from the lack of a direct father-to-son accession, as well as from foreign invasion.62 Because of a fear that Abbās’s other grandson may lay claim to the throne,63 three years after Shah Abbās’s death in 1632, a bloody massacre marked a dramatic end to the classical period of Safavid rule at the court of Isfahan, and all of Abbās’s grandsons born to his daughter were either killed or blinded, and a large number of the leading figures of the empire and servants of the court were also put to death.64

The socio-political and cultural milieu  27 The details we have about the character of Shah Ṣafī, who began his reign at the age of eighteen, seem puzzling at first sight. On the one hand, he is praised for his lavish generosity and, on the other, reproached for his apparently limitless cruelty. Foreign observers who had personal contact with him praise his charm and uncomplicated character, which they contrast with the inscrutable and unfathomable attitude of his grandfather.65 A clear example of Ṣafī’s cruelty was the execution of Imam Qulī Khān (d. 1042/1633) and his family. Qulī Khān was an extremely powerful governor-­ general (beglerbegi) of Ṣadrā’s home province Fārs and the son of Allāhverdī Khān (Undiladze) and formerly head of all the ghulāms and a celebrated Georgian military commander in the service of Abbās I.66 As mentioned, the Madrasayi Khān in Shiraz was founded by Allāhverdī Khān (d. 1613) and completed in 1024/1615 by Imam Qulī Khān. He oversaw the building of the Khān school for the city’s very own Mullā Ṣadrā in 1615 and exhibited a style reminiscent both of earlier schools and of those in Isfahan, demonstrating the continuing vitality of provincial architectural themes. The projects of Ganj Ali Khān and Allāhverdī Khān, in particular, point to the successful integration of the ghulām into the ­spiritual and political discourse of the larger Safavid project and to the wealth accumulated at the provincial level.67 Reflecting these efforts, Shah Ṣafī espoused a number of the Shi‘i ‘ulamā, and promoted Ismā‘īl I’s and Ṭahmāsp’s pattern of establishing an association with the faith. Mīr Dāmād again played a key role as one of the Shah’s chief clerical associates. He was the first native Iranian in the history of the Safavid monarchy to achieve the rank of Grand Ayatollah (marja‘), the highest judicial authority. The grandees who had been with Shah Abbās I in Mazandaran arrived in Isfahan nineteen days after Ṣafī had become king, and the denizens of Isfahan had already heard Shah Ṣafī’s name announced by Mīr Dāmād during the sermon (khuṭbah) at the Friday prayer in the main mosque, the magnificent Masjid-i Jāmi‘.68 Mīr Dāmād had also conducted the coronation ceremony of Shah Ṣafī in 1629 and later died in Najaf in 1040/1631 whilst escorting the Shah to the Shi‘i shrines of Iraq.69 Another prominent courtier was Sayyid Husayn Ibn Rafī‘ al-Din Mar‘ashī, known as Sulṭān al-‘ulamā (d. 1064/1654), who served as grand vizier during roughly the same period, from 1034/1624 to 1042/1632.70 Another good example is Fayḍ Kāshānī, a student of Shaykh Bahā’ī who was Mullā Ṣadrā’s son-in-law and student who was invited by Shah Ṣafī to the capital, though he declined. Fayḍ, whose hostility to ‘popular’ Sufism was a matter of record, was expected to exert a moderating, if not controlling influence over Isfahan’s various vociferous groups, and Ṣafī’s successor, Abbās II (1642–1666), was later to ask him to lead the city’s Friday prayer services. By his own admission, however, Fayḍ’s efforts merely exacerbated spiritual tensions in the city, and he resigned the post soon thereafter.71 Surprisingly, there is no mention of Mullā Ṣadrā in early works on the Safavid kings such as ‘Ālam-Ārā’-yi ‘Abbāsī or a later account that focuses more closely on Isfahan, Khulāṣat al-Siyar,72 completed in 1051/1642. This may indicate that

28  The socio-political and cultural milieu he achieved fame in the time of Shah Ṣafī or later, at some time during the early 1040s/1630s, when Shah Ṣafī commissioned him to produce a Persian translation of Iḥyā’ ‘Ulūm al-Dīn, the magnum opus of the Sunni Sufi Muhammad al-Ghazzālī (d.  505/1111).73 Yet there is still very little information about him socially or politically in later works. However, in order to explore some particular characteristics of his socio-political leanings, in the following sections we underline Ṣadrā’s relations with different groups of ‘ulamā and the court of the five Safavid kings who ruled at the time, relying mainly on his own words.

Mullā Ṣadrā’s approach to those contemporary ‘ulamā allied with the Safavids Debates over the political authority of jurists (fughahā) following the Twelfth Shi‘a Imam’s Occultation (329/919) had been going on since the early days of his absence. In the sixteenth century, religious and political tensions increased, as along with the application of rationalism within philosophy to interpretations of the inner meaning of the Qur’an and hadith, and legal reasoning (ijtihād) to the Qur’anic revelation in the field of jurisprudence. With the increasing crystallisation of Imami theology during the Safavid period, the jurists had become the most powerful members of the religious class. They were given free rein to propagate Shi‘ism throughout Iran, and many Shi‘a scholars from abroad, mainly from Jabal ‘Āmil in Lebanon and Bahrain, were invited to Iran for this purpose. The Arab jurists were warmly received by the Safavid rulers, and in 1533 Ṭahmāsb issued several decrees (farmāns) granting them extensive power. It was after having moved the capital to Isfahan that Abbās I officially gave the Shi‘a jurists a high political rank. He established a new era of rule in Isfahan and gradually realised that he should rely on the Shi‘a scholars to legitimise his power, even though this necessarily posed a threat to the position of the Safavid shahs themselves, who claimed to be representatives of the Mahdi (the Hidden Imam) on earth.74 There was a considerable divide between two sets of hierocrats at the time: those who championed a rearticulation of the power of the Safavid shahs and those orthodox Shi‘ite clerics who insisted that secular deputyship in a Shi‘ite state was anathema. In their writings, some of the Shi‘a ‘ulamā, such as Ali Karakī, Shaykh Husain Abd al-Ṣamad (d. 984/1576), father of Shaykh Bahā’ī, and Majlisī II (d. 1111/1699)75 argued that it was acceptable for Shi‘ite scholars to receive patronage from a secular ruler. Shaykh Bahā’ī even asserted in his wellknown ‘Iqd al-Husaynī or ‘Iqd al-Ṭahmāsbī that it was permissible to venerate (ta‘zīm) the shah, an incendiary proposal amongst Shi‘ite intellectuals.76 In the view of this moderate group amongst the jurists, the establishment of a state in which Shi‘ism was the official religion enormously enhanced the power of the religious classes in general, since God delegates His rule to the Hidden Imam, and royalty occupies a lower position in the cosmic order.77 They stressed the necessity of justice, ethics, fair treatment, the avoidance of tyranny and the accountability in the Hereafter of both the ‘ulamā, with their religious authority, and those in

The socio-political and cultural milieu  29 temporal authority (the ‘umarā). In addition, they discussed the rights and duties of rulers on the basis of the teachings of the Imams as recorded in Shi‘a tradition and maintained that association with rulers becomes obligatory for self-protection and furthering the cause of the believers and indeed for the guidance of kings. The ruler might guarantee the exercise of holy law (Shari‘a) but was certainly not above it; his duty was rather to uphold it and support the jurists (fughahā) who were its guardians. The Safavid shahs’ claims of descent from the Shiʿi Imams (descendants of the Prophet Muhammad through ʿAli, his son-in-law) did not fundamentally alter this position, though the Shiʿi jurists’ own assertions to be the ultimate source of authority created conditions for a developing a political contest throughout the post-Safavid centuries.78 Mullā Ṣadrā, however, accepted none of these justifications and disapproved of the alliance of the Safavid shahs with the many ‘ulamā legalists who hoped to influence and persuade them of a more rational and ethical form of Islam. He argued that cooperation with a government that was involved in oppression and behaved improperly was contrary to Islam and could damage the face of the religion. He warned that the Safavid Empire could not be endowed with legitimacy just because it had authority over society and there was hoped-for support of the Shi‘i faith, as many of the exoteric legalistic ‘ulamā expected.79 Ṣadrā’s very open criticism of the ‘ulamā’s alliance with the government demonstrates his political attitude. In Kasr Aṣnām al-Jāhiliyya,80 he identifies a true jurist and scholar of religion (‘ālim al-dīn) as an ‘enlightened knower’ (al-‘ālim al-baṣīr) who is dissociated from vulgar, that is to say, popular religious beliefs (i‘tiqadāt al-‘āmiyya). He strongly criticises those jurists who exploit their political position for worldly aims: The majority of ill-informed scholars (‘ulamā al-ghafilūn) believe they are perfect and deserve to be respected by the people, while they are unaware of their defects and moral evil. O whoever reads these words, how can you hide that you have too much ambition for political position and worldly lusts? Can you not see that, for the sake of gaining worldly enjoyments, you serve people of wealth and power, and waste your time in worshipping monarchs and statesmen? Look how you devote your lives to them and try to make provision for worldly pleasure by sly means.81 Elsewhere, Ṣadrā attacks the jurists of the court: In this age, one is called a jurist (faqīh) nowadays for being closely associated with the rulers and the kings of oppression and their assistants by giving invalid fatwās and oppressive judgements.82 Yet this does not mean that Ṣadrā liked those scholars who distanced themselves from society and politics because, in many places, immediately after reproaching the aforementioned group, he criticises the asceticism of particular Sufis and dervishes. He maintains that they claim to have true understanding and to know

30  The socio-political and cultural milieu the mysteries of God, but their hearts are empty of the true knowledge of God (ma‘rifat Allah). He describes them as having abandoned the Qur’an and hadith; they neither understand the truth of religion nor have knowledge of the Shari‘a. He disapproves of them because they choose a reclusive life and do not involve themselves in society. In his Asfār, he narrates from the well-known mystic, Junayd al-Baghdadi (d. 297): The real lover of God should spend his time in seclusion, and not be engaged with any of those in society. When he is called, he should not listen; when he looks at a thing, he sees nothing, because all his attention is toward his Real Beloved. He may be amongst the people, but his heart is with God. If disaster befalls him, he is not upset, and if he receives worldly provision or enjoyment, he does not become proud or arrogant. In his solitude, he is with his Beloved and whispers to his Lord. He never fights with the people for worldly things. . . . [H]is concerns are apart from the people and society.83 Having quoted this, Ṣadrā criticises Junayd: The specifications which are mentioned by Junayd fit the wayfarers who are at the beginning stages of their spiritual journey, not those who have achieved the realm of divinity. Such wayfarers are still on their journey from the people towards the Truth, but those who reach the Truth and return to the people benefit from the Divine Light. Due to their high level of spirituality, such wayfarers are the happiest and most joyful of people. They are also the most virtuous, who see God’s presence in everything. . . . Like the Prophet who returned to his community from his seclusion in the Cave of Ḥirā in order to guide them, the wayfarer with an open heart can return from the highest stage of his spiritual journey to society, to deal with the people and assist them on the right path.84 Ṣadrā also criticises polemicists who engage in theological dispute to earn fame, power and superior rank, which he identifies as the style of the ­theologians (mutikallimūn) and literalists (zūhirīyyūn). They attract the common people (‘awām) and statesmen alike with their simplistic understanding of Islamic concepts, which then become popular. He disapproves of this group because of their desire for fame while supporting an oppressive monarchy and government (salāṭīn).85 Ambition for achieving a worldly rank . . . is the source of most debates and theological discussions, jurisprudential oppositions and disputes which are originated through the desire for fame and having a wide audience in the land, yearning for leadership and dominating the servants of God, having a long hope in the things desired by these bodies and hope to remain in the house of the earth and living eternally there, being satisfied with this life, and remoteness from the Exalted God’s pleasure on the day of resurrection.86

The socio-political and cultural milieu  31 Mullā Ṣadrā never embellished his philosophical views with the conventional praise for the Safavid shahs, as did some well-known Shi‘a jurists, scholars and poets.87 Due to his objections to the Safavid court and its alliance of jurists, he stayed aloof from the government throughout his life.88 He not only disapproved of the politicians but also basically believed that the jurists who aligned themselves with them did not merit the title of faqīh (jurist) in the strict sense. There was no place for acknowledging the authority of the corrupt and oppressive Safavid rulers within his philosophical and mystical perspective. For him, earthly political authority falls within the all-encompassing context of spirituality, religion and the sacred law, according to which only the most spiritual person has merit enough to rule the state. Worldly activity is nothing but a particular stage in the perfection of the soul in its journey to the world to come. We will discuss the specifics of Ṣadrā’s approach to politics in Chapter 4.89 There is little doubt that Ṣadrā’s opposition to certain exoteric jurists was politically motivated and that he was attacked by those of them who opposed mystical and philosophical ideas. A historical review of Ṣadrā’s life and his autobiographical essays, where he complains of the socio-political situation of his day, reveals that he was accused of heresy by both deviant and extremist Sufis (ghulāt al-sūfiyya) and exoterists amongst the ‘ulamā (ahl al-zāhir).90 The origin of the hostility between the Shi‘a exoteric ‘ulamā and the mystically orientated philosophers goes back to the beginning of the Safavid dynasty, when Shah Ismā‘īl and his son Shah Ṭahmāsp forcefully promoted Twelver Imami Shi‘ism against Sunnism and Sufism. There was a shift of perspective from seeing the power of the shah as that of a charismatic pīr of a Sufi ṭarīqat to that of a royal figure who ruled a state legitimised by the Shari‘a. Another view of this Safavid period might be that it was a time in which the legitimacy of the government was contested and Twelver Shi‘ism imposed, and Sufis and philosopher-mystics advocating an eclectic approach to God were in conflict with hard-nosed jurists hostile to Sufism.91 It is therefore natural that someone like Mullā Ṣadrā would be singled out and attacked for his condemnation of blind imitation (taqlīd-i kūrkūrāne) and juristic authority.92 However, there is no evidence that Mullā Ṣadrā opposed the juristic theory of taqlīd, which divided believers into jurists and followers (muqallid), but rather his thoughtful challenge was about the real connotations of words like fiqh (Islamic jurisprudence) and the way his contemporary jurists used hadiths and verses of the Qur’an.93 In his al-Shawāhid al-Rubūbiyya, he says: The Prophet preserved the [legal] decision (al-ḥukm) of the revelations and the authority of the impeccable Imams, and the authority of the ­mujtahids. . . . He ordered those without knowledge to consult mujtahids following the divine order to ‘ask those who know if you do not know’ (Qur’an, 16:45). They [the mujtahids] give fatwās on the basis of their ijtihād [reasoning] and they differ just as previous dispensations of religious law have differed. He [God] said: ‘For everyone we have created a path’ (Qur’an, 5:52). Similarly for every mujtahid, he has created a juristic path from his proof and a method,

32  The socio-political and cultural milieu and has determined his proof to establish his authority and forbidden him to diverge from it, so that he may pronounce on the divine law.94 Having considered the complexity of his views on jurists, the position Mullā Ṣadrā takes regarding them needs to be studied in its own context. As elaborated in the following chapters, due to overlooking Ṣadrā’s actual intent, many contemporary writers and academics in Iran who support the 1979 Revolution attempt to promote the idea that Ṣadrā unconditionally upheld the political authority of jurists (wilāyat al-faqīh). However, the present study will demonstrate that he clearly rejected that view because for him the jurist is not a perfect example of the true ‘ālīm (sing. of ‘ulamā), or ‘most knowledgeable expert’. He explains how, at that time, whoever had extensively studied jurisprudence was mistakenly considered such an expert of the dīn (religion), even though he may have no understanding of other branches of Islamic science or the inner intent of sacred texts. He had similar standpoints regarding both anti-rationalistic and literal traditionalistic views within the ‘ulamā, as well as those of Sufis suggesting an extreme esoteric interpretation of religious teachings. In the coming sections, we shed light on these aspects of Ṣadrā’s thought as well.

Mullā Ṣadrā and the people of tradition (ahl al-hadith) Philosophical discourse has always been looked upon with suspicion in the ­Muslim world. Indeed, this enmity regarding philosophy continued during the Safavid dynasty, and in the early seventeenth century a Shi‘a anti-­philosophical and anti-rationalistic group known as the Akhbārīs was revived by ­Muhammad Amin Ibn Muhammad Sharīf Astarābādī (d. 1033–1036/1624–1627).95 The Akhbārīs expressed no sympathy for mysticism or any deeper interpretation of sacred texts. The early Akhbārīs, known often as the Ahl al-Hadith, criticised Shi‘i scholarship, and clerics of the Safavid period such as Ali Karakī, Shaykh Zayn al-Din and Bahā’ī, known as the uṣūlī (jurists who favoured ijtihād, or ‘independent judicial reasoning’), were censured for failing to ground their rational and jurisprudential analysis squarely in the revealed texts, particularly the hadiths, and according to the ‘akhbār of the Imams’.96 The Akhbārīs argued against the rational interpretation of hadiths as suggested by the Uṣūlīs and as inherited from philosophers of the ninth century.97 They insisted that religious knowledge was to be founded upon the sound principles expressed in the hadith and categorically rejected the rational and critical classification of the texts as propounded by the Uṣūlīs.98 Proponents of the Akhbārī movement who had gained favour in the Safavid court until the reigns of Shah Ṣafī (1629–1642) and Shah Abbās II (1642– 1666) came to be known by their opponents as the ‘people of the exterior’ (ahl al-zāhir) and ‘scholars of the skin’ or ‘surface’ (‘ulamā’ al-qishriyyūn). Hence, the Akhbārī-Uṣūlī conflict was in fact a long-running dispute between rationalism and strict traditionalism, between those who maintained that rational principles could be utilised to make sense of the revealed sources of law and theology and

The socio-political and cultural milieu  33 the scholars who specialised in the Traditions (akhbār/ahadith) of the Imams as the basis of religious knowledge.99 The degree of intellectual tolerance and freedom of expression in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, together with the position and political power of the families of Shi‘a Muslim thinkers like Dashtakī (such as Ṣadr al-Din Muhammad [d. 903/1497] and his son Ghīyāth al-Din Manṣūr [d. 948/1542]), and later the intellectual influence of the school of Isfahan, provided an opportunity for Ṣadrā to challenge the powerful trend of Akhbārī’s anti-philosophical thought in both theology and jurisprudence.100 Focusing on hadiths and being highly sympathetic to the knowledge of the impeccable Imams and the inner meanings of their traditions, Ṣadrā criticised the exoteric scholars of hadith, whom he usually dismissed as aṣḥāb al-ḥadīth or ahl al-ḥadīth (the ‘people of tradition’). He associated these Shi‘a scholars with the Sunni Ḥanbalīs, the classical example of the literalist in Islam: I view that the custom of our time is to inculcate ignorance and disseminate misguidance and stupidity. We became afflicted by a group who attack understanding, whose eyes cannot bear the light of wisdom and its secrets, whose sight has become consumed like the sight of bats barred from the illumination of knowledge and its effects. They consider a profound meditation and reflection upon divine matters in the divine verses to be a heresy, they consider attempts to convert the masses from being scum as misguidance and a betrayal, as if they are Ḥanābila whose literalist books of hadith assimilate the Necessary and the contingent, the Eternal and the incipient. Their thought does not go beyond the material.101 They were sometimes associated by Ṣadrā with Ash‘arites and the Ḥashwiyya:102 From an intellectual point of view, the worlds correspond with each other and the types of creation are close to each other. Thus, just as the Ḥashwiyya and Karrāmiyya103 look at the laws with a blind eye, and limit themselves to the exteriors, and deny the domain of the secrets and the mine of the lights, likewise the followers of Esoterics give less attention to the words or the superficial etiquettes, and abandon actions in accordance with the true religious law, and leave it behind themselves. Both these groups are blind-eyed impostors in their perception of the reality of things, only that the blindness of one group is in the right eye and the blindness of the other is in the left eye. The knowing, accurate and meticulous verifier is he who has two sound eyes. He has a sound look at things, without the blindness of Literalists and Esoterics, or the bleariness of the Ash‘arites or the blindness of ignorance, or the ophthalmia of the atheists and naturalists. Thus he keeps both sides and does not reject either of the two aspects of creation, nor does he ignore the laws of the two worlds.104 In Seh Aṣl, Ṣadrā criticises those scholars who attack philosophy and mysticism and those of the view that hadith (ḥadīth, pl. aḥādīth) is the sole source of

34  The socio-political and cultural milieu knowledge, a position associated with the Akhbāriyya.105 In the last two chapters of his al-Fawā’id, Astarābādī is highly critical of philosophy and philosophical theology and, with a systematic attack upon the errors of philosophers and theologians, criticises Khājeh Ṭūṣī’s al-Tajrīd al-I‘tiqād and the marginalia of Jalāl al-Dīn Davānī (d. 908/1502),106 as well as Ṣadr al-Dīn Dashtakī on al-Tajrīd’s commentary.107 It thus seems fair to suggest that Ṣadrā was unfavourable towards the Akhbārīs, although he did not mention the name of Astarābādī or any Akhbārī scholar.108 With a differing argument to that of the Uṣūlīs in response to Akhbārīsm, Ṣadrā declared that we can indeed rely on rational thought and intuition to discover hidden meanings of the Holy Text and that therefore the gate to the interior aspects of religious knowledge (i.e., the search for a greater understanding of the revelation) is not closed.109 Ṣadrā argued that there exist many controversial issues where there are two or more contradictory hadiths or a verse that contrasts with a hadith. To discern meaning from within apparently contradictory hadiths, or in order to choose one interpretation of a verse or hadith to the exclusion of others, one unquestionably needs to engage in rational analysis and philosophical speculation. In order to resolve certain scriptural dilemmas through a complex procedure of both reasoning and intuition and to expose the deeper meanings of verses and hadiths not apparent from a superficial reading, and probably to establish a position regarding the Akhbārīs as well, Mullā Ṣadrā wrote an esoteric commentary on the Qur’an,110 plus a commentary on the hadith collection of Muhammad Ibn Ya‘qūb Kulaynī (d. 328/940), Uṣūl al-Kāfī,111 up to the end of the chapter entitled al-Ḥujja.112 Against the view of M. Khāmene’ī, the modern biographer who suggests that forgoing statements and suchlike of the Akhbāriyya and Astarābādī amounts to attacks on them,113 Sajjad Rizvi argues that, despite challenging anti-rationalism and literalist traditionalism, Mullā Ṣadrā never addressed the Akhbāriyya and Astarābādī in particular; therefore his position in this respect remains ambivalent.114 It seems that a compelling reason for Khāmene’ī’s speculation is that, in the contemporary Shi‘i ḥawza, or seminary, the name aṣḥāb al-ḥadīth or ahl al-ḥadīth, which Mullā Ṣadrā frequently used, is commonly attributed to the Akhbārīs, since the term ḥashwī is always used by opponents for extreme Akhbārīs. At this point, we could argue that here is a rational justification for saying that Mullā Ṣadrā criticised the Akhbārīs, as there are different opinions within the Akhbārī schools, in particular between what might be termed ‘moderate’ and ‘extreme’ positions.115 The earlier Akhbārīs fell into extremist views because they, like the Ḥashwiyya, accepted the authenticity of all hadith, even those that predicated superhuman qualities to the Imams, and we would not link them with the later, moderate Akhbārīs, like Muḥsin Fayḍ Kashani, for example, who acknowledged the unquestioned authenticity of the Four Books (of recognised hadiths, al-Kutub al-Arba‘ah). Fayḍ himself heavily criticised Astarābādī’s absolute prohibition on Qur’anic interpretation from an early period, whilst simultaneously claiming Akhbārī allegiance.116 Therefore, Fayḍ’s mystic-philosopher teacher, Mullā Ṣadrā, would be more likely to criticise Astarābādī, who rejected ijtihād in

The socio-political and cultural milieu  35 jurisprudence, as well as any rational and philosophical endeavour that might lead to an understanding contrary to the clearly literal meaning of hadiths.117 Therefore, we may suggest that Ṣadrā usually called Akhbārīs the Ahl alHadith, a name that from his time until today is used in the Shi‘i ḥawza for the Akhbāriyyin. At the beginning of volume 6 of al-Asfar, he says: The contemporary people of hadith (al-muta’akhirīn min al-muhadithīn) have committed dreadful mistakes in interpretation of Islamic metaphysical issues. This group have no excuse to God for misleading the people, so they will not have any way to relieve from the Hell because they have had access to gain the knowledge of and ability in understanding the inner and true meaning of the religion.118 In his Sharh al-Uṣūl al-Kāfī, against the literal approach to the Qur’an and hadiths, Ṣadrā explains why he has chosen a rational approach to hadith and how a literal approach is insufficient. Ultimately, his view of the majority of scholars of his time is that of a conflict with those who are caught up in two extremes, that of the orthodox traditionalist who is the advocate of the unquestioned authenticity of all hadith and the dissolute mystic who does not properly practise the religion and who, more than that, may be an ascetic but is nonetheless ignorant. In the coming discussion, we address the latter group, whom Ṣadrā considers enemies of knowledge and religion, as well as gluttonous, deceitful friends of Satan.119 As we will examine in the following chapters, for Ṣadrā, no one in these groups would succeed in reaching the highest degree of understanding regarding the true knowledge of religion or the transcendent wisdom of philosophy (al-ḥikmat al-muta‘āliya), so they are unqualified to have authority over the people.

Ṣadrā, heterodox Sufis and orthodox ‘ulamā The religio-political structure of the Safavid Dynasty had been interwoven with sacrality and mysticism since the early days. In fact, the Safavid period had commenced with the Safavid Sufi order based in Ardabil, which was an urbane, quietistic and contemplative spiritual movement established by the eponymous Shaykh Ṣafī al-Din (d. 713 Sh/1334). Most of the Safavid shahs borrowed from mysticism the concept of ‘the perfect man’ (al-insān al-kāmil) or ‘perfect leader’ (al-murshid al-kāmil), which they applied to their own chief in order that he may appear an impeccable imperator,120 whose empire functioned on principles of paternalism and personal loyalty, in a way that would have been impossible for their progenitors.121 As shown in more detail in Chapter 7, the presentation of the Safavid shah as the perfect man in turn reflected a strong Neoplatonic influence, where the concept had been systematically articulated by the school of mystical philosophy stemming from the writings of Ibn al-Arabi (1165–1240), and before that by Suhrawardī (1154–1191) in the doctrine on the validity of inspiration (ilhām), which sought to legitimize Safavid spiritual authority and the divine right to rule through the Shi‘i notion of a spiritual connection with the Imam. This also had

36  The socio-political and cultural milieu already been partly secured by dreams experienced by the Safavid kings. For instance, Sultan Ḥaydar had a dream in which he was chosen by the Unseen to prepare the twelve-cornered Ḥaydarī crown as a sign of the royal authority of Safavid rule.122 While such proclivities were tempered, vestiges of this kind of apocalyptic and gnostic imagery would continue to manifest in Safavid ideology throughout the sixteenth century. In addition to mollifying the Turkic Qizilbāsh, the mystical dimension of Safavid dynastic rhetoric was instrumental in securing the ­support of a large number of different Sufi orders, or tarīqahs, most of which were denounced as ghālī (exaggerators, extremists) by the orthodox ‘ulamā. The existence of the ghulāt illustrates how a cluster of Sufi exaggerators, albeit expressing themselves in a variety of ways and represented by different Sufi orders, survived into the seventeenth century.123 There was a tension amongst different types of ghuluww in the Qizilbāsh, but the orthodox ‘ulamā did not distinguish them in terms of heresy. Ardabīlī denounced124 some twenty-one Sufi tarīqahs identified as ghālī for such heretical beliefs as ascribing partnership to Allah (shirk), abandoning the prayers and fasting, dancing (raqṣ), singing (ghinā), and listening to poetry or music (samā‘), suggesting that they were forsaking the intercessory and interpretative authority claimed by the orthodox elements in order to seek meaning and solace in a more direct, immanent and intimate relationship with the Divine.125 Ali Karakī issued a fatwā allowing the cursing of Abu Muslim, the god-like hero of the Qizilbāsh, and wrote one of the earliest polemics against Sufi ghulāt.126 For the ghulāts, there was no dichotomy between religion and politics. Shah Ismā‘īl was simultaneously the spiritual guide of the Safavid ṭarīqa and the Shah of Iran. So long as the ghuluww survived in the empire, religious groups with political aspirations would continue to manifest themselves.127 Hence, while it is true that the Qizilbāsh were spiritual disciples of their Safavid god-man, they also expected a role in the domain of governance.128 It is therefore not surprising that both Sufism and ghuluww were viewed as potential threats by the Safavid monarchs during their period of rule in Isfahan and as heresy in the eyes of the Shari‘a-minded ‘ulamā. In the religious literature of the period, particularly the refutations (rudūd) against Abu Muslim and the Nuqtaviyya ṭarīqa,129 the Sufi ghulāt are regarded as heretics and their doctrines as innovations (bid‘a), since they had moved away from Islamic belief. Once this became clear to the shah, who wished to propagate the Shari‘a, it became necessary to eliminate them. In suppressing the Qizilbāsh and Nuqtavī130 – the most influential ghālī Sufi orders at that time – Shah Abbās I divorced Sufism from politics, in the process relying on an alliance of jurists that provided him with a forum for attacking the ghuluww. The support of jurists also gave the Shah the legitimacy to become the absolute ruler in the political sense.131 Mullā Ṣadrā, like his teacher Shaykh Bahā’ī, was denounced for his ‘popular’ Sufi tendencies, and despite his repeated efforts to distance himself therefrom, he finally abandoned the capital for a prolonged stay in Kahak.132 The truth of the matter is that Ṣadrā never displayed any tendency towards Sufism, nor did

The socio-political and cultural milieu  37 he establish a Sufi group (ṭarīqa). It is unlikely that he took any formal Sufi orders, which in any case was highly controversial at the time, so the claim of the Ni‘matullahī Sufi Ma‘sūm ‘Ali-Shah that Ṣadrā was a Nurbakhshī Sufi cannot be substantiated.133 He did, however, actively seek a reconciliation of philosophy with mysticism, based on many of the basic principles of mysticism as formulated by Ibn al-‘Arabī and other prominent Muslim thinkers from the twelfth to the sixteenth centuries, but his perspective was firmly grounded in Twelver Shi‘ism. Although he strongly opposed any extreme esoteric interpretation of religious teachings, his high philosophy (al-ḥikmat al-muta‘āliya) was mainly based – even more than the Illuminationist (ishrāqī) method – on a kind of mysticism that revealed an esoteric interpretation of the Holy Text. In fact, it was this that provoked the hostility of the literalistic jurists and orthodox theologians.134 Ṣadrā’s numerous complaints concerning the literalists provide confirmatory evidence that he retreated to Kahak because of not only the Sufi ghulāt but mainly the opposition from certain literalist jurists and theologians to his esoteric interpretation. We can see from Ṣadrā’s writings that his feelings were deeply hurt by these hostile groups. For example, in Kasr Asnām, he says: This path, which is followed by most theologians, and is approved by the temperaments of the multitude, and through which they attract the attention of the people and the laity to themselves, most or even all of whom have no aptitude for rising to the transcendent realm, for they cannot seek the Origin, the primal Real, and the Last Day.135 Esoteric interpretation, whose aim is to provide deeper levels of understanding concerning the inner dimensions of religion, began in Shi‘ism with the Ismā‘īlis, who suggested a mystical interpretation of the Qur’an and made the esoteric method the central doctrine of their movement. Naṣīr al-Din Ṭūsī, who had a very close relationship with the Ismā‘īlis, is perhaps the first Twelver Shi‘a thinker to have been able to revive the philosophical tradition of the ninth century by emphasising the importance of the authoritative religious teaching of the Imam during the time of occultation and by underlining the issue of the unveiling of the hidden meaning of the Holy Text.136 This convention was followed later by a group of Shi‘a mystics and philosophers such as Azīz al-Din Nasafī (d. 661/1262) in the thirteenth century and by Sayyid Ḥaydar Āmulī (d. 787/1385) and Bahā’i al-Din ‘Ubayd Āmulī (d. 793/1391) in the fourteenth century, who stimulated Shi‘i mystical practice and attempted to bring the Shi‘a and non-Shi‘a Sufi schools together. They believed that, in the absence of the Imam, scriptural interpretation was given to exceptionally gifted people whose task was to initiate their adepts into the esoteric truth. Such an idea was regarded by the traditionalist ‘ulamā as blasphemous because it meant sharing the role of initiator with the Imam.137 Another accusation against Sufism might be seen as compromising the faith of a Shi‘a with Sunni thought, which would dilute a person’s Shi‘ism and draw him towards a mysticism instituted by Sunni mystics.138

38  The socio-political and cultural milieu Ṣadrā believed that by drawing distinctions between ‘Irfān and taṣawwuf (Sufism), he would be able to defend the true mysticism, and he consequently discredited the heretical Shi‘a Sufis who claimed that such a high status can be attained with asceticism and certain customs, that one becomes a mystic and ­spiritual wayfarer.139 He states: Today the word Sufi is used to refer to any individual who attracts a ­following and has assemblies gorging on stew (āsh), mystical concerts (samā‘), ­clapping and stamping.140 Ṣadrā uses the term ‘sufi-like’ (mutiṣawwif ) most frequently, as well as ‘darvīsh’ to refer to those ghālī Sufi associations that have no true knowledge or wisdom (ma‘rifa).141 He believed that the ignorance of such Sufis and their rejection of the Shari‘a led them to repeat words of ecstasy (shaṭḥiyyāt) that others had voiced, whilst oblivious to their meaning. Through such utterances they identified themselves with true Sufis like Ḥallāj:142 This group of Sufis say: ‘We saw that, and we were told this.’ In this respect, they simulate Husayn al-Ḥallāj who was crucified for uttering words like these words, and they bring as an evidence his words, ‘I am the Real’ . . . . The effect of this kind of speech on the laity is greater than that of fatal poisons on the bodies, to the extent that some of the farmers abandoned their farming, and have uttered such claims. The nature of people enjoys such speech, according to which they will avoid working and turn to the purification of the soul through the perception of stations and states. Then, the foolish will not cease to claim that for themselves, nor stop fabricating aimless and vain words.143 In such an atmosphere, where his transcendent philosophy came under the harsh attack of Shi‘i theologians and polemicists, it is no surprise that Ṣadrā was determined to identify the ‘ārif as the mystic-theosopher (‘ārif al-muti’alih) who, in addition to pursuing formal religious knowledge and rational proofs, engaged in the spiritual quest for God and the inner interpretation of sacred texts whilst fully committed to the Shari‘a.144 In his Kasr Aṣnām, Ṣadrā emphasises the need to acquire knowledge of the divine law and to follow the five pillars of Islam (uṣūl al-dīn) before any selfpurification and transcendence could occur.145 These so-called Sufis he sees as unlearned and therefore as charlatans and pretenders. True mystics (‘ārif ), says Ṣadrā, are rare individuals. To attain this station, one must begin by worshipping in accordance with the Shari‘a, without which spiritual exercises are useless: If one wavers from study of the Shari‘a, one will neither attain the type of devotion a philosopher arrives at, nor the spiritual state of a Sufi. In that case one is lost.146

The socio-political and cultural milieu  39 Ṣadrā also condemns such types of Sufis for their duplicity and for their claiming high spiritual status for their leaders and saints: I see a group of these blind ones who claim that their leader has attained true knowledge (ma‘rifat) and the vision of God, and he tells his stupid disciples that they have realised God and are near Him, while no inspiration has befallen him.147 In this and similar complaints, Ṣadrā refers to those political, heterodox Sufis orders148 such as the Musha‘sha‘īs, founded by Muhammad Ibn Falāḥ Musha‘sha‘ (d. 867/1462), and the Nūrbakhshīs, founded by Muhammad ­Nurbakhsh (d. 869/1464), who considered themselves as divinely inspired beyond the capacity of ordinary persons and as at the same level as the Shi‘i Imams.149 Their attitudes towards jurisprudence (fiqh) best illustrate the reactions of the traditional Shi‘a leadership of the period as well as Ṣadrā’s discontent. In his works, Musha‘sha‘ tells us of his fastidious application of the rules of the Shari‘a in the area under his control; he considered his personal juristic rulings incumbent upon all, yet his attitude did not reflect the orderly practice of jurisprudence as a science by legal scholars. Nurbakhsh largely discounted sole obedience to the Shari‘a as the religious ideal, placing far greater importance on the Sufi path (tarīqa) and the acquisition of the knowledge of esoteric realities (haqīqa).150 However, one must remember that Ṣadrā’s approach to orthodox Shi‘ism was not the same as the more radical forms of Sufism and that his approach to the Shari‘a was different from that of Uṣūlī jurists such as Karakī and theologians like Muhammad Ṭāhir Qumī and Ahmad Ibn Muhammad Ardabīlī (Muqaddas Ardabīlī), who were preoccupied with eliminating popular Sufism. Though originally a Sunni order, the Ni‘matiyya came to play an important, if brief, political role in the early Safavid period.151 As mentioned in two foregoing examples, unlike Mullā Ṣadrā, radical Sufis refused to validate the mujtahid’s function and often claimed that the Sufis were the true Shi‘a. These kinds of beliefs and the large following that these Sufi orders commanded throughout the country once more aroused the hostility of the orthodox ‘ulamā. The rivalry between popular Sufism and the orthodox ‘ulamā, including the jurists and theologians, was supported by other heretical Sufi groups such as the ghulāt with Alid loyalties and the Qizilbāsh, leading to a twist of fortune for intellectual Sufi urbanites in the mid1550s. While some were killed or fled during the initial wave of Safavid expansion under Ismā‘īl, other groups (Ni‘matullāhīs, Nūrbakhshīs, Mar‘ashī Sayyids and Musha‘sha‘ Sayyids) managed to negotiate inclusion into the Safavid state, although they were effectively marginalised by the 1550s.152 During this rivalry between orthodox Shi‘ism and Sufism, which continued into the seventeenth century, Ṣadrā, following the intellectual movement of the School of Isfahan, supported the anti-Sufi sentiment begun by Karakī but never discredited Sufism by aligning it to Sunni belief.153 Therefore, the historiographical school of Safavid study that insists upon the strict separation of intellectual

40  The socio-political and cultural milieu (and mystical) training and Mullā Ṣadrā’s engagement with the law seems to be indelicate. Among the various disputes between the orthodox Shi‘a and the Sufis, particular questions regarding the Imamate and its representation during the occultation were debated, especially from the time of Shah Ṭahmāsp, who associated himself with Karakī and a group of jurists who advocated innovative interpretation (ijtihād) concerning the authority and deputyship of the Imamate. During the suppression of Qizilbāsh power after 938/1532, orthodox Shi‘a theologians took this transitional stage as an opportunity to provide the state with what they deemed necessary doctrinal and juridical tools for a redefinition of authority in Safavid Iran.154 With Karakī’s legal apologia in hand, Ṭahmāsp embraced the role of ‘the just ruler’ (al-sulṭān al-‘ādil) who serves in the absence of the ­Hidden Imam but cannot act as a religious authority because no government can become legitimate if it is not headed by al-sulṭān al-‘ādil.155 We must recognise that political legitimacy in the medieval Persian-Islamic world was defined by deeply rooted notions of kingship and imperium and by a bureaucratic tradition that was committed to defending this conception of authority on the basis of personal ­absolutism, royal genealogy and divine investiture.156 While Abbās I was careful to avoid any undue accruing of power by a particular hierocrat or group of clerics, by the early seventeenth century, with the eminent Uṣūlī scholar Husayn Ibn al-Hasan al-Karakī (Mīr Husayn Mujtahid, d. 1001/1592–1593), the grandson of Ali al-Karakī,157 juridical elements still played a vital role in religious law and the enforcement of orthopraxy across the empire (although not with the same power they once had during Ṭahmāsp’s reign) and promoted the image of the Safavid kings as both the political and spiritual protector of the Shi‘a, both within and outside Iran.158 It was at this time that Mullā Ṣadrā, who had by now elevated Isfahan as a celebrated centre of doctrinal and philosophical inquiry, criticised the government and the tyranny of the Safavid kings.159 Like his mystic-philosopher predecessor, Ghiyās al-Din Manṣūr Dashtakī (d. 1542), who rejected Karakī’s claims of authoritative leadership,160 Ṣadrā did not accept the political principles and behaviour of the jurists and Sufis who allied themselves with the Safavid court. He bemoans: See how you [ignorant ‘ālim] waste your life in serving the people of wealth and lose your time in obedience (ubūdīyya) of rulers (ḥukkām) and kings (salāṭīn).161 As we will show in Chapter 7, there is overwhelming evidence that Ṣadrā rejected the politically authoritative leadership of jurists in general. He held that the jurists call themselves faqīh, while they have no knowledge of the inner meanings of the sacred text and the hadith. For him, these people have knowledge of just one aspect of the religion (dīn) and are unaware of its essence. He believed that they have therefore failed to purify themselves and thenceforth issue tyrannous judgements and legitimise despotic rulers and satanic authority (ru’asā-yi shayātīn).162

The socio-political and cultural milieu  41 The research in the following chapters appears to validate the view that, in Ṣadrā’s vocabulary, the concept of kingship does not refer to any of the ancient worldly Persian monarchies or that of the Safavid Shahs. Our discussion will provide ample support for the assertion that he in fact believed that the monarchs and political leaders of his age had seized their positions without having the qualification. Most, even all of those who have appointed themselves to the state of guidance and caliphate in this age are foolish and ignorant of the methods of knowledge and guidance, and have no commitment to righteousness.163

Summary and conclusion Very few historical sources reveal information on Mullā Ṣadrā’s social and ­political attitudes toward the Safavid state and the scholars of his time. However, a brief but systematic analysis of the relationships among the Shi‘a exoteric ‘ulamā  – including theologians (mutikallimūn), polemicists, literalists (zūhiriyyūn), the ­ people of h­ adith (aṣḥāb al-hadith, or Akhbārīs) – and Ṣadrā’s view on them, as elaborated in this chapter, might serve as an introduction to Ṣadrā’s background and his unique political approach. We demonstrated that Ṣadrā supports neither quietism nor the idea of the fundamental separation of religion and politics. We briefly quoted Ṣadrā’s open criticism of the ‘ulamā’s alliance with the government and his outlook on jurists and their scholarly and political authority. He never regarded the monarch as the political representative of the imams or religious authorities. The Safavid shahs used to appoint different jurists and scholars for each major city, all of whom were required to stay loyal to them, as was the case with Ṣadrā’s teachers, Mīr Dāmād and his student Fayḍ Kāshānī. Ṣadrā did not show to the kings any interest regarding any of this political framework, nor did he dedicate any of his work to kings, as many scholars did, his student Lāhījī included. Yet this does not mean that Ṣadrā respected those scholars who distanced themselves from society and politics, as he also criticised the asceticism of particular Sufis and dervishes who claimed true understanding and knowledge of the mysteries of God. He announced that their hearts are empty of true knowledge of God (ma‘rifat Allah) and the philosophy of the divine (ḥikmat al-īlāhī). Having reviewed this historical background to Ṣadrā’s cultural and political attitudes, certain ultimate questions are raised here. How does Ṣadrā define the perfect political leader, the ideal political authority and state, and the virtuous society? If he neither advocates a Shi‘i hierocracy or the authority of jurists (wilāyat al-faqīh) and Sufis nor accepts the current system of kingship and the caliphate, then what alternative can we draw from his narratives on politics and practical philosophy? The question of the imamate and political leadership during the occultation of the Twelfth Imam, a key question for Islamic political thought, also needs to be addressed in the present study. In the following chapters, having introduced the major premises of Ṣadrā’s political philosophy, we will deal with these questions and explain how his discourse on the human soul, ontology and

42  The socio-political and cultural milieu metaphysics, together with his various social and political attitudes, may come together to form his own political philosophy.

Notes 1 Mehrzad Boroujerdi (1996: 163–170). 2 John Cooper (1998: VI: 595). For a brief and very scholarly study on Ṣadrā’s thought, see S.J. Ashtīyānī (1365 Sh). For a comprehensive English study of Ṣadrā’s life and work and literature on Ṣadrā by Western thinkers, see S. Rizvi (2007); I. Kalin (2015: BEIPh, ed. O. Leaman, 349–356). For a modern Persian bibliography of Ṣadrā, see M. Khāmini’ī (1378 Sh). 3 H. Nasr (1997a, 31–39); S.J. Ashtīyānī (1365 Sh: 3–8); Henry Corbin (1993, 10–11); Dabashi (2011: 15408). 4 Mullā Ṣadrā uses the term ‘ahl al-hadith’ for those who were mainly known in later decades as Akhbārīs. 5 Asfār (I: 1–12); M. Khāmini’ī (1378 Sh: 161, 278); S. Rizvi (2007, 42–45). See also S.K. Toussi (2008: introduction to Mullā Ṣadrā’s Breaking the Idols of Ignorance). 6 See the introduction to Asfār I. 7 Mīr Dāmād is best known for his al-Qabasāt Ḥaqq al-Yaqīn fī Hudūth al-‘Ālam, known as Qabasāt, which is an attempt to recast some of the central problems of traditional philosophy from the Peripatetic’s viewpoint, with certain influences from the School of Illumination. Even though both classical and modern authors acknowledge the difficult language and structure of Mir Dāmād’s works, his destiny to remain a background figure in the annals of Islamic philosophy is without doubt related to his being overshadowed by his most celebrated student. For more on Mīr Dāmād, his intellectual and political careers, see S. Mūsawī Bihbahānī (1370 Sh/1991). See also Hamid Dabashi (1996, 597–634); Muhammad Bāqir Khansārī (1991: II, 61–67). 8 See S. Jalāl Āshtiyānī (1363 Sh: I, 62–65); S.H. Nasr (1997a: 26). 9 With Mīr Dāmād, Mullā Ṣadrā studied philosophy and theology, in particular the Peripatetic works of Avicenna and his student Bahmanyār (d. 458/1066), the pseudoAristotelian Plotiniana Arabica (in particular the so-called Theology of Aristotle or Uthūlūjīyā), the Illuminationist works of Suhrawardī (d. 549/1191), and the commentaries on philosophical theology in the Tajrīd al-I‘tiqād of Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī (d. 672/1274). We know that Ṣadrā was associated with Mīr Dāmād at least from 1004/1595. He was particularly attached to his teacher, who may have acted as a spiritual guide and mentor. In letters that Ṣadrā wrote to Mir Dāmād, he described him as ‘the sayyid and leader, the lord of the philosophers and master of the jurists, teacher of teachers and of scholars, the most noble of scholars and the civiliser of Islamdom’ and as ‘the gate who opens the spiritual path to God and from whose presence divine grace is acquired; a gate who does not disappoint its seeker and does not betray its confidant’. For Ṣadrā’s letters to Mīr Dāmād, see S.J. Ashtīyānī (1365 Sh: 3–8). For Ṣadrā’s scholarly relations with Mīr Dāmād, see O. Leaman (2015: BEIPh, 321–322). M. Khāmene’ī (1379 Sh: I, 109, 115). See also S. Rizvi (2007: 12). 10 Shaykh Bahā’ī was no ordinary scholar of the religious sciences but was at once a philosopher, theologian, jurist, mathematician, architect, Sufi and poet. This must have had some effect on Ṣadrā’s intellectual upbringing, as he wrote works in nearly all branches of the intellectual and transmitted sciences. See I. Kalin (2015: BEIPh, ed. O. Leaman, 18–19); M.B. Khansārī (1991: VI, 54–81); A. Newman (2006: 58–71, 1986: 185–190); N. Rofagha (2006); Etan Kohlberg (1988: EIr, III, 429–430); Devin Stewart (1998: JAOS, vol. 31, 177–205); Ḥ. al-Amīn (1986: IX, 234–249). 11 For more on Ṣadrā’s teachers, see S. Rizvi (2007: 8–13). 12 M. Khāmene’ī (1379 Sh: I, 301–305).

The socio-political and cultural milieu  43 13 For the history of philosophical and intellectual development in Isfahan from Ibn Sīnā to Ṣadrā and the reasons Ṣadrā moved to Shiraz, see M. Imam-Jum‘ah (1391 Sh). 14 Asfār (I, 5). 15 See S.H. Nasr (1377 Sh: introduction to his edition of Mullā Ṣadrā’s Seh Aṣl, 5–14). 16 See S.J. Āshtiyānī (1365 Sh: 5–6). For Ṣadrā’s philosophical methodology, see Muhammad Kamal (2006). For Ṣadrā’s methodology on interpretation of the Qur’an, see Mohammed Rustom (2012). For Ṣadrā’s methodology of knowledge and epistemology, see Oliver Leaman (2000: I, no. 1, 34). 17 Fayḍ travelled to Isfahan in 1027/1616, where he studied hadith and jurisprudence with Shaykh Bahā’ī. He was offered the post of Shaykh al-Islam of Isfahan in 1065/1655 during the reign of Shah ‘Abbās II (d. 1077/1666) but declined, ­concentrating instead on his teaching and scholarly works. Fayḍ was the author of 200 books and treatises, and in the last year of his life he wrote an important summary of Ṣadrā’s ­philosophical thought entitled Usūl al-Ma‘ārif. See William Chittick (2004: 475–476); M.B. Khansārī (1991: VI, 73–97). 18 A favourite of Shah ‘Abbās II (1642–1666), for whom he wrote an important manifesto on the Sufi life called Gawhar-i Murād in Persian. His major work, Shawāriq al-Ilhām fī Sharh Tajrīd al-Kalām, which is another valuable and extensive Avicennan commentary on the theological text of Naṣir al-Din Tūṣī, took a number of philosophical positions that were highly critical of the views of his teacher, regarding metaphysics in particular. See W. Madelung (1979: 154–157); M.B. Khansārī (1991: IV, 192–194). For the lives of Fayḍ Kashani and Lāhījī and their spiritual relationship with Mullā Ṣadrā, see M. Khāmene’ī (1379: 352–385); A. Newman (2001). 19 Among these we may mention Aqa Muhammad Bidābādī (d. 1198/1783), Qāḍī Sa‘īd Qumī (d. 1111/1696), Mullā ‘Ali Ibn Jamshīd Nūrī (d. 1245/1830), Mullā Muhammad Ismā‘īl Isfahani (d. 1275/1860), Mullā ‘Abdullah Zunūzī (d. 1256/1841), Mullā Hādī Sabzavārī (d. 1288/1873), Mullā ‘Ali Mudarris Zunūzī (d. 1280/1889), Āqā ­Muhammad Riḍā Qumsha’ī (d. 1303/1888–1889), Mirzā Mahdī Āshtiyānī (d.  1356/1941), and most recently Muhammad Husayn Tabātabāe’ī (d. 1402/1981) and Seyyed Jalāal al-Din Āshtiyānī (d. 1419/2004). For more details about Ṣadrā’s ­students and their works, see S.J. Āshtiyānī (1363 Sh: I–II); S. Rizvi (2007: 1–20, 51); H. Nasr (2006). 20 Thomas Herbert (1634: 129); op. cit. S. Rizvi (2009b: SEPh); S. Rizvi (2007: 30). 21 The traditional date given for his death is 1050 /1640–1. However, his grandson Muhammad ‘Alam al-Hudā, the son of Fayḍ Kashani, reported that his grandfather died in Basra in 1045/1635–1636 and was buried in Najaf in the precinct of the shrine of ‘Ali, the first Shi‘i Imam. This seems to be supported by the fact that the date of completion for his last works, the commentary on Uṣūl al-Kāfī is 1044/1635. Muhammad ‘Alam al-Hudā (d. 1407/1987–1989: I, 9). Cf. M. Khāmene’ī (2000: I, 414). 22 For a complete list of Ṣadrā’s books and treatises, see S. Rizvi (2007: 51–115); I. Kalin (2003b: IS, vol. 42, no. 1, 21–62); S.K. Toussi (2008: xxii–xxxvi). 23 Ismā‘īl’s long-term residence in Zaydī Shi‘i Lāhījān was an opportunity for him to become familiar with Shi’i concepts like ‘the perfect and just Imam’ (al-imam al-‘ādil al-kāmil) and ‘the just sultan’ (al-sulṭān al-‘ādil). Contemporary ‘popular’ tales identified Ismā‘īl as Abu Muslim, the leader of the Khurasan-based Arab armies that defeated the Umayyads in 765 to establish the Abbasid state and who was believed to have gone into hiding and then returning to establish justice across the world. Ismā‘īl was also simultaneously one of the chief figures of the Tājīk Persian cultural legacy, with Faraydūn, Khusraw, Jamshīd, Rustam and Alexander, as well as some key figures in the historical tradition of Christianity, and the pīr of the region’s numerous messianic, egalitarian Sufi movements such as the ghazī, akhī and that of Abu Muslim. For more on Ismā‘īl’s religious and cultural background, see A. Newman (2006: 13–15); Rasūl Ja‘farīyān (1389: I, 109).

44  The socio-political and cultural milieu 24 For a comprehensive study of the cultural and religious situation in the Safavid era, see R. Ja‘farīyān (1389: 3 vols.); for Safavid kings, especially Shah Isma‘īl and different aspects of his kingdom, see Yadullah Shukrī, ed., ‘Ālam Ārā’ Safavi (1350 Sh). 25 See Zabihullah Ṣafā (1362 Sh: V, 241–250); A. Newman (1993a: DWI, vol. 33, no. 1, 66–112). 26 For different views on the reason why the Safavid capital was moved from Qazvin to Isfahan, see Stephen Blake (2003); see also Iskandar Beg Munshī (1977: I, 544). 27 See Kathryn Babayan (2002: 59, 354–356); as a standard reference for the early Safavid period in the original language, see the work of a Qizilbāsh notable, Hasan Beg Rūmlū, Aḥsan al-Tawārīkh, completed in 985/1577. 28 A. Newman (2006: 31). For a study of the first sixteen-year period of the reign of Shah Ṭahmāsp, see Martin Dickson (1958). 29 Rasūl Ja‘farīyān (1991: 226–227, 1389 Sh: I, 400). 30 A. Newman (2006: 18). For a history of the Qizilbāsh during the Safavid dynasty, see Hans R. Roemer (1994: 27–39). 31 R. Ja‘farīyān (1389 Sh: I, 394). 32 Muḥaqiq Ali al-Karakī was without doubt the most influential jurist in the Safavid court. His association with Safavid Shi‘ism began almost immediately upon Ismā‘īl’s profession of faith in 907/1501. During his presence at court, he was in charge of all the political, economic and religious affairs of the Safavid government. In his high ­position of authority in the administration, he had to issue a large number of fatwās on various cases. Karakī did not hesitate to openly utilise his religious and legal knowledge and skills to support specific aspects of Safavid Shi‘ism, including its more extreme manifestations. See also Āqā Bozorg Tehrani (1936–1978: XIII, 353); Ali Akhzarī (2013: IJRB, vol. 4, no 11, 216–223). 33 Colin P. Mitchell (2009: 124); ‘Shah Tahmasp’ (BSOAS, 65–85). 34 In Asfār, after describing Mīr Dāmād as his spiritual guide (murshid) and teacher, Ṣadrā prays that God may preserve this connection of master and disciple, though they were separated, and through his honour and illumination enlighten the heart of the seeker on the path (V: 53). 35 For more on Dashtakī, see A. Newman (1996: EIr, VII, 100–2); M.A. Afandī (1401: V, 250–252); M.B. Khansārī (1991: IV, 372–373); Iskandar Beg Munshī (1977: I, 144–145). 36 Mīr Dāmād had functioned as the Shaykh al-Islām of Sabzavār under Shah Ṭahmāsp and had been a student of the Shiraz philosopher, Mīr Ghiyāth al-Din Manṣūr Dashtakī. For the status of the ‘ulamā in the Safavid court, see R. Ja‘farīyān (1389 Sh: I, 168). 37 Khansārī (1991: V, 170). 38 For more on Ali al-Karakī and his descendants, see Rasūl Ja‘farīyān (d. 1384/2005: 79–152); C. Mitchell (2009: 70). For more on the migration of Shi‘ite scholars during the Safavid era, see R. Ja‘farīyān (2003); Mahdī Farhānī Munfared (1377 Sh: 120– 130); Rula Jurdi Abisaab (1994: IrS, vol. 27, no. 1–4, 103–122). 39 For more information on the family conflicts after Ṭahmāsp, see A. Newman (2006: 26–28). 40 In 1556, nearly two decades after Ismā‘īl’s birth, one of Ṭahmāsp’s Georgian wives bore him a son, Ḥaydar. The Turkmen Ustājlū tribe, one of the most powerful tribes of the Qizilbāsh, threw its support behind Haydar, but the majority of the Qizilbāsh chiefs saw this as a threat to their own Turkmen-dominated power. Hence they installed Ismā‘īl II on the throne (1576–1577), followed by Muhammad Shāh Khudābanda (d. 995/1587). See Colin P. Mitchell (2009: 158–176); A. Newman (2006: 41); Roger Savory (2009). 41 Rudi Matthee (2010: JESHO, vol. 53, no. 1–2, 233–265). 42 Shohreh Gholsorkhī (1994: IJMES, no. 26, 480–485). For more on the situation of the Shi‘ism and Shi‘a-Sunni conflict during the Safavid period, see H. Nasr (1986: VI, 658–697); B.S. Amoretti (1986: VI, 610–655).

The socio-political and cultural milieu  45 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53

There is no record of the date of his death. Mīrzā Muhammd Ṭāhir Qazvīnī (2003: 206). D. Stewart (1998: JAOS, vol. 31, 200). Sh. Gholsorkhī (1994: IJMES, no. 26, 477–488). B.S. Amoretti (1986: VI, 643). See Peter Jackson (2005: 172). C. Mitchell (2009: 159). A. Newman (2006: 47). Terry Graham (1999: 179). A. Newman (2006: 47); C. Mitchell (2009: 178–179). These sayyids hailed from Mazandaran (in the north and east of Iran) and had a significant impact during Shah Ṭahmāsp’s reign. They played an integral part in preaching and popularising Karakī’s interpretation of Shi‘ism and in dispersing it throughout the Safavid dominions. See Rasūl Ja‘farīyān (n.d.: 13); Rudi Matthee (1999: 75). 54 These were those of the administrative class who were responsible for the smooth maintenance of the state bureaucracy and its overall polity. It was these ‘people of the pen’, or scholar-bureaucrats, who created, preserved, copied and transmitted the most popular and compelling literary, scientific, philosophical and religious discourses of the medieval period. See Khurshāh Ibn Qubād (2000: 54); C. Mitchell (2009: 12–16). 55 See Stanfield, Johnson (2004: IrS, vol. 37, no. 1, 66). 56 Rula Abisaab (2004: 58–59). 57 Majid Fakhry (1970: 339–340). 58 See A. Newman (1986: SIr, vol. 15, no. 2, 179). 59 Ali Awjabī (1382 Sh: 203). 60 See A. Newman (2006: 204, note 19); cf. S. Abrahams (1999: 96, 111). 61 Sussān Bābāie (2004: 104). 62 A. Newman (2006: 74). 63 The Safavid bloodline, both male and female, was believed to have a divinely bestowed charisma, and it was not only Ṣafī who killed or blinded his close family. In the seventeenth century, many princesses were blinded along with their brothers for fear that they may lay claim to the throne. See K. Babayan (1998: 352). For the brutal attitude of other Safavid kings who were suspicious of family members, see H.R. Romer (1989: VI, 190–350). 64 K. Babayan (2002: 366). For details of Ṣafī’s cruelty, see N. Falsafī (1342 Sh: 211–22). 65 H.R. Romer (1989: VI, 279–280). 66 See the Encyclopædia Iranica Online Edition (Emāmqolī Khan). 67 A. Newman (2006: 65); R. Hillenbrand (1989: VI, 795). 68 Shāmlu Walīqulī (1371 Sh: II, 208–209); K. Babayan (2002: 376). 69 For more on Mīr Dāmād’s social and political activities, see M. Ma‘ṣūm Isfahani (1368 Sh/1989: 82, 96); S. Babaie, K. Babayan, I. Baghdiantz-McCabe and M. Farhad (2004: 47, 163). 70 S. Rizvi (2007: 43). 71 Fayḍ Kashani (1387 Sh: 36–44; 1371 Sh: 281); A. Newman (2006: 89, 204). For useful information on the role of philosophers and Sufis at the court of Shah ‘Abbās II, at a time when their role was increasingly under attack from the orthodox ‘ulamā, see Muhammad Ṭāhir Waḥīd Qazwīnī, Abbās-Nāmeh (1951: ed. I. Dihqān). 72 Written by Muhammad Ma‘ṣūm Isfahani (1368 Sh/1989) and edited by Iraj Afshār. 73 In 1044/1634–1635, a fellow townsman and prominent judge, Sayyid Ali-Naqī Kamari’ī (d. 1060/1650), wrote a work entitled Himam al-Thawāqib for the Shah in which he criticised the commission of Sufi works, such as the Iḥyā’ al-‘Ulūm of M. Ghazzālī. It did not, however, include any critique of Mullā Ṣadrā himself but in fact reported that it was Ṣadrā himself who informed him of the commission and his reluctance to deliver it. See S. Rizvi (2007: 35–36). Cf. R. Ja‘farīyān (1379 Sh: 13–41); al-Ḥurr al-‘Āmilī (1966: II, 207).

46  The socio-political and cultural milieu 74 Some of these Shi‘a jurists came from Ḥilla in Lebanon under the leadership of Ibn al-Muṭahhar al-Ḥillī (d. 726/1325) and his son Muhammad, known as Fakhr al-Muḥaqqiqīn (d. 771/1370). Another group who migrated from Lebanon was from Jabal al-‘Āmil, amongst whom were scholars such as Shaykh ‘Āmilī, who established religious schools and trained many Persian Shi‘a scholars, and his family. Muḥaqqiq Ali Karakī, Shams al-Din Muhammad Ibn Makkī (d. 786/1384), known as Shahīd alAwwal, and Zayn al-Din Ibn Ali al-‘Āmilī (d. 960/1558), known as Shahīd al-Thānī, from Jabal al-‘Āmil, became spectacularly famous jurists in Iran and left a lasting influence in Shi‘ism that has persisted to the present day. This migration was not necessarily with the intention of joining the Safavid court but rather was due to the political tension and threat of the Sunni state in their homeland. Mirzā ‘Abdullah Afandī (1401: I, 186; II, 64, 101, 103, 109, 122; IV, 18, 319); Rasūl Ja’fariyān (1376 Sh: II, 669–676); Rula J Abisaab (1994: IrS, vol. 27, no. 27, 103–122); D. Stewart (1998: JAOS, vol. 31). 75 Muhammad Bāqir Majlisī, known as Majlisī II, was a leading theologian and muḥaddith of the later seventeenth century. He was another jurist allied with the Safavids and went so far as to compare Shah Ismā‘īl’s achievement in establishing Shi‘a Islam as the state religion with the expected twelfth Imam’s political function of fighting for the true religion. For an impressive study on the intellectual and political career of B. Majlisī, see A. Newman (2003: 371–396); Newman (2012: 109–127); Devin Stewart (1998, vol. 31: 193–203). 76 See ‘Izz al-Dīn Muḥammad Ibn Abd al-Ṣamad, ʿĀmilī (n.d.); D. Stewart (1996: JAOS, vol. 116, no. 3, 399); Jahānbash Thavāqib (1392 Sh: NTI, no. 9, 35–79). 77 See Louise Marlow (1995: SI, no. 81, 101–120); Lynette Mitchell and Charles Melville (2013, 14–19). We discuss this matter in more detail in Chapter 7 of the present volume. 78 See Muhammad Ibn Ahmad al-‘Āmilī al-‘Alavī (manuscript no. 516, f. 12). 79 Mullā Ṣadrā (1381 Sh: 62; 1377 Sh: 67; 1411a: VI, 277). Ṣadrā (2008: 28, 37, 68). Ṣadrā’s position regarding the Safavid kings and the alliance of jurists with the court will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 6. 80 Ṣadrā (1381a Sh: chapters 1–2). 81 Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: 64). 82 Ṣadrā (2008: 38). 83 Asfār (VII, 190). For this and similar apolitical statements of Junayd, see Farid al-Din Aṭṭār’s Tadhkirat al-Awlīyā (1363 Sh: chapter 43, 21). 84 al-Asfār (VII, 190). 85 See Mullā Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: 46, 75). 86 Mullā Ṣadrā (2008: 98–99). 87 A. Newman (2006: 30, 35, 172). 88 The historical and social background of other philosophers such as Socrates, Plato and Fārābī are similar to that of Ṣadrā. Plato witnessed much political and social disorder, because of which Socrates was condemned to death. Similarly, due to his spiritual virtues and the refinement of his mind, Fārābī could not tolerate the political situation of his time. He was in search of an ideal society, and in order to achieve that, he worked out the theoretical prerequisites, clarifying political and social issues. See Javad Ṭabātabā’ī (1382 Sh: 161–162); Alban Dewes Winspea (2011: 208); David Sider (1977: 180–183). 89 Ṣadrā (1984: 127, 355); Ṣadrā (1976: 278). See also S. Amir-Arjomand (1988a). 90 See, for instance, his autobiographical essay at the beginning of Asfār I. See also his Seh Aṣl and his al-Wāridāt al-Qalbiyya fi Ma‘rifat al-Rubūbiyya. 91 M. Khājawī (1366: 34–40); M.A. Chelongar (1383: 263–278); L. Lewisohn (1999: 95–98). 92 M. Khājawī (1366 Sh: 34–40). Cf. S. Rizvi (2007: 32); K. Babayan (1996: 125–131). 93 Ṣadrā (1390b Sh: 138); Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: 27, 79, 107); Ṣadrā (n.d.a: 3).

The socio-political and cultural milieu  47 94 Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 377). 95 Astarābadī’s well-known book al-Fawā’id al-Madaniyya (d. 1424/2003) is recognised as the manifesto of the Akhbārī school. On Astarābādī, see R. Gleave (2007); E. Kohlberg (1987: EIr, II, 845–6); Āqā Bozorg Tehrani (1936–78: V, 51) 96 Hence the name Akhbārī for the school of thought with which Astarābādī came to be identified. See A. Newman (1992: BSOAS, 55/1, 22–51; 1992: BSOAS, 55/2, 250–261). 97 Rasūl Ja‘farian (1383 Sh: 245–262); A. Newman (1992: 55, I, 22–51). 98 For a study of one late Safavid text, Munyat al-Mumārisīn by ‘Abd Allah Ṣāliḥ al-Samahījī (d. 1135/1722), where the author discusses forty areas of controversy between the Akhbārī and Uṣūlī, see A. Newman (1992: BSOAS, 55, 22–51, 250–261). For an introduction to this school, see also E. Kohlberg (1985: EIr, I, 716–718). 99 For more details on the history and doctrines behind the Akhbārī-Uṣūlī dispute, see Robert Gleave (2007: 170–171). For a view that attempts to link Akhbārīsm to the rise of particular social classes within society, see Amir Arjomand (1984: 146–155). For a view that claims a link between Akhbārīsm and royal patronage designed to undermine clerical authority, see Jawdat Qazwini (1412: 1, 83–92). 100 D. Stewart (2003: 182f.). 101 Asfār (I, 6). 102 Ḥashwiyya (also ahl al-ḥashw) is a pejorative label used by Muʿtazilī theologians and other rationalists to malign the ‘people of tradition’ (aṣḥāb al-ḥadīth), Ḥanbalīs, and other traditionalists. The most common etymon posited is the Arabic ḥashw (to stuff ), one accusation against the Ḥashwiyya being that they ‘stuffed’ unreliable ­hadith reports into their argumentation. See Jon Hoover (2016: EI Three); David Dean ­Commins (1990: 75–77). 103 The Karrāmiyya, founded by Abū ʿAbd Allah Muhammad b. Karrām (d. 896), is a sect that flourished in the central and eastern parts of the Islamic world, especially in regions of Iran, from the ninth century until the Mongol invasions in the thirteenth century. The doctrine of the Karrāmiyya involved literalism and anthropomorphism. See Aron Zysow (2011: EIr, vol. XV, fasc. 6: 590–601). 104 Ṣadrā (2008: 35). 105 Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: 8). 106 For more on Davānī, see A. Newman (1996: EIr, vol. 7, 132–133). 107 Astarābadī (1424/2003: 406–510). 108 For more on Ṣadrā’s criticism of literalists and anti-rationalists, see Asfār (I, 4–5); Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: 5–7); Ṣadrā (1979: 87). 109 As an illustration, Ṣadrā said that revelation is like a sun, and human reason is like eyes. Without the light of the sun, the eyes would be unable to see, and light without eyes is of no effect. Like the sun, revelation is effective if the person uses reason. Those who do not use the light of the reason and live in the darkness of ignorance consequently have a very shallow understanding of the Qur’an and the narrations. They remain at the surface of literal meaning and never understand the wisdom of the message of religion. For example, see Ṣadrā (1411a: II, 9, 339; IV, 405; V, 72; VI, 88). 110 Ṣadrā’s interpretation of the Qur’an was published in seven volumes for the first time by Bidār Press, Qum, in 1411. In his introduction to Uṣūl al-Kāfī, Ṣadrā explains his motivation for writing this interpretation. 111 This collection is one of the four most important collections of Shi‘a hadith. The other three are al-Tahdhīb and al-Istibṣār, by Muhammad Ibn Hasan al-Ṭūsī (d. 460 /1068), and Faqīhu Man lā Yahḍuruhu al-Faqīh, by Muhammad Ibn ‘Ali Ibn Husayn Ibn Bābawayh al-Qumi, known as Shaykh Ṣadūq (d. 381/991). 112 Hujja literally means ‘proof’, but in this context it refers to the Twelve Imams after the Prophet, since they are the proofs of God and religious knowledge. 113 M. Khāmene’ī (1379 Sh: I, 161, 278). 114 S. Rizvi (2007: 45).

48  The socio-political and cultural milieu 115 Scholars explicitly identified as Akhbārīs represent only a small proportion of the scholars of the period catalogued in a work such as al-Ṭihrānī’s Ṭabaqāt al-A‘lām. Those who are identified as Uṣulīs, or mujtahids, are also not so numerous. The evidence concerning the majority of minor scholars of the period in question is insufficient to categorise them as either Akhbārīs or Uṣulīs. Nevertheless, some of the Akhbārīs are Tājīk Sayyid Muhammad Sabzavārī (d. after 1672), known as Mir Lawḥī, who had attacked Majlisī in the latter years of Abbās’s reign, Mullā Ahmad Tūnī and Muhammad Ismā‘īl Mazandarani and Muhammad Ṭāhir Ibn Muhammad Husain Qumi (d. 1098/1687), a native of Shiraz who composed the anti-Sufi sections of Ḥadīqat al-Shi’a. For information on these scholars, see Muhammad Muḥsin Āghā Buzurg Tehrani (1936–78: V, 303). 116 Fayḍ Kashani (1390: 35–36); R Gleave (2007: 222). 117 See my introduction to Fayḍ’s Spiritual Mysteries and Ethical Secrets (2012). 118 Asfār (VI, 6). 119 Ṣadrā (2008: 28). 120 See N. Green (2015: 376–377). This model is echoed somewhat by politicians in Iran today under the concept of wilāyat al-faqīh, in which political power is concentrated in the jurisprudential leader (faqīh), not as an impeccable imperator but as an authorised representative of the Twelfth Imam during the occultation. 121 It should be noted that during the Safavid Dynasty this role was presented in symbolic terms and that the mechanisms of state power under the shah were guided by a principle of negotiating the distribution of power amongst Persian, Turkmen, Arab and Caucasian notables and jurists C. Mitchell (2009: 177). For details on the mechanism of Safavid political power, see Hāshim Āghājarī (1380: 25–42). For the Safavid administrative system, see R. Savory (1986: VI, 351–372) 122 See for example Husayn Ibn Murtaḍā Husayni Astarābādī (1364 Sh: 19f f ); Ibn Bazzāz (1376 Sh/1997). 123 See A. Newman (1999b: vol. 37, 95–108); Rula Abisaab (2004); Michel M. Mazzaoui (1972). 124 See the anti-Abu Muslim and anti-Sufi sections in Hadīqat al-Shi‘a, a work attributed to Ahmad Ardabīlī (d. 1585), who was himself well-known for his critique of the Safavid political institution. For more investigation on Hadīqat al-Shi‘a, see Muhammad Muḥsin Āghā Buzurg Tehrani (1936–78: III, 26); M. ‘Isā Ja‘farī (1375 Sh: JḤ, no. 75, 65–96). See also A. Newman (1999: MSIWD, no. 37, 95–108). 125 A. Newman (2006: 84). These groups are also accused of rejecting the concept of resurrection (ma‘ād). For the ghulāt, the human being died only to be reincarnated (tanāsukh), returning to this world in a different form. Beliefs that revelation never ceased, that Muhammad was not the Seal of the Prophets, and that the souls of earlier prophets could transmigrate into different human forms at any given time were an alluring platform that aspiring radicals came to embrace. See K. Babayan (1994: IrS, vol. 27, no. 1–4, 140). 126 See R. Ja‘farīyān (1373–1378 Sh: vol. 7); Marshall Hodgson (1974: I, 238–239). 127 K. Babayan (1994: IrS, vol. 27, no. 1–4, 154); A. Zarrīnkūb (1353 Sh); Q. Ghanī (1340 Sh). 128 See K. Shaybī (1380 Sh); K. Babayan (1994: IrS, vol. 27, no. 1–4, 140). 129 Mahmūd Pesīkhānī (d. 1427) was the founder of the Nuqtavī movement in Iran, an offshoot of the Ḥurūfī movement. He was born in Pesīkhān, Iran, in Gilan. Pesīkhānī claimed he was the reincarnation of Muhammad on a higher plane and declared himself Mahdi in 1397. See Abbas Amanat (1996: 290); Hamid Algar (1994: 114–117). 130 At the outset of Abbās I’s reign, the Nuqtavīs seem to have been the first recorded Sufi/ghulāt movement since the inception of the Safavids to have enjoyed a wide ­following among the Qizilbāsh, in particular among prominent dignitaries at court. This cleared the way for greater reliance on Shi‘a jurists. For more on the Nuqtavīs, see Hamid Algar (1994: 114–117); A. Newman (2006: 46–54).

The socio-political and cultural milieu  49 131 132 133 134 135 136 137

138 139 140 141 142 143 144

145 146 147 148 149

150 151 152 153 154 155 156

K. Babayan (1994: no. 4, 154–155). A. Newman (2006: 70); S. Rizvi (2007: 30–31). For this claim, see Ma‘sūm ‘Ali-Shah Shirazi (1339 Sh: 183). See Ṣadrā’s complaints of those who accused him for his mystical and philosophical approach to sacred texts in his introduction to Asfār (I, 7). Ṣadrā (2008: 99). See S. J. Āshtīyānī (1365 Sh: 5–17); Gh. Ibrāhīmī Dīnānī (1386 Sh: 181, 471–490). Āmulī called on the orthodox Shi‘a to accept the validity of the mystics’ inner interpretation of the Imami teachings and urged them to admit that the secret of all ­science and esoteric learning lies in the teaching of the Imams and that without Shi‘ism, Sufism could not exist. Concerning Āmulī and his important role in Shi‘i mysticism, see E. Kohlberg (1989: EIr, vol. I, fasc. 9, 983–985); Josef Van Ess (1998); H. Corbin (1963: 72–101). John Cooper correctly says that this accusation remains the case in the contemporary period. J. Cooper (1999: 432). Cf. S Rizvi (2007: 43). Ṣadrā (1381a Sh: 17, 23, 43); Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: chapters 1–2). Ṣadrā (1381a Sh: 62). See, for example, Asfār (VI, 284); Ṣadrā (2008: 4, 62, 135). For more on Ṣadrā’s views on Ḥallāj, Bāyazīd Basṭāmī and his favourable opinion of early Sufism, see Nasrollah Pourjavādy (1378 Sh/1999: 14–24). Ṣadrā (2008: 33–34). Obviously, Ṣadrā’s criticisms of Sufism have nothing in common with those of, for example, Muhammad Ṭāhir Qummī (d. 1098/1686) or Ahmad Ibn Muhammad Ardabīlī (Muqaddas Ardabīlī). For the opposition to Sufism by Imami jurists and theologians, see N. Pourjavady (1999: 614–624); A, Newman (1999: Ir, XXXVII). Ṣadrā (1381a Sh: 51); Ṣadrā (2008: 97). Ṣadrā (1381a Sh: 52). For similar statements, see also Ṣadrā (2008: 28, 55, 71). Ṣadrā (1381a Sh: 26). For more on heterodox Sufi orders, see I.P. Petrushevsky (1985); B.S. Amoretti (1986: 6); J. Baldick (1989: 71–77, 94, 96, 100–104). For the dynastic history of the Musha‘sha‘, see P. Luft (1954–2004: EI, vol. 7, 672–675) Muhammad Ibn Falāḥ’s thought contained a radically activist message and attempted to gain political power, whereas Nurbakhsh was imprisoned because of the political potential of his claims. One such element comprised those who claimed to be the Mahdi, a designation reserved exclusively for the Twelfth Imam in normative Twelver Shi‘ism. Both Musha‘sha‘ and Nurbakhsh moved away from the belief in occultation in its usual form in order to successfully portray themselves as equal to the earlier Imams. Being a Mahdi in a Shi‘i context necessarily requires going beyond traditional belief, since the claimant has to argue against the very basis of the idea of Twelve uniquely-guided Imams who, according to the religious orthodoxy, have already historically existed. Conversely, however, it would be crucial for such a Sufi leader to access the charisma inscribed in traditions regarding the Twelfth Imam in order to acquire spiritual and political power through the claim. See Shahzad Bashir (2001: 23–26). Shahzad Bashir (2001: 30–31). For more on extreme Sufis orders and their political claims in the Sadavid period, see K. Babayan (2002); Marshall Hodgson (1974: I, 493–500). L. Lewisohn (1999: 80). For more on the rivalry between orthodox Shi‘ism and Sufism, see C. Mitchell (2009: 100–103). C. Mitchell (2009: 69). For the Shi‘i view on this issue, see A. Sachedina (1988: 99). See also Colin Turner (2002: 178–181). C. Mitchell (2009: 102). There are princely advice manuals like Jalāl al-Dın Davānī’s Akhlāq-i Jalālī, Husayn Vā‘iz Kāshifī’s (d. 1504) Akhlaq-i Muḥsinī, and those by

50  The socio-political and cultural milieu

157 158 159 160 161 162 163

Muzaffar al-Husaini al-Ṭabīb al-Kashani (d. 1551), who dedicated his own Akhlāq-i Shāhī to Shah Ṭahmāsp. For a review on the earlier littérateur célèbres whereby the concept of kingship was conceived, see Aziz Azmeh (1997: 124); Āqā Bozorg Tehrani (1936: vol. 1, 377–378). R. Stanfield-Johnson (2004: IrS, vol. 37). R.J. Abisaab (2004: 55–56). See M. Kadīvar (1378 Sh: ṢE) Colin P. Mitchell (2009: 103); R.J. Abisaab (2004: 18); Caroline Beeson (1982). Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: 64). See, for example, Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: 57, 69, 70, 76); Mullā Ṣadrā (2008: 26–27). Ṣadrā (2008: 28).

2 The central importance of the philosophy of the human soul in Mullā Ṣadrā’s politics

Synopsis This chapter is an analysis of the various connections between the main premises of Mullā Ṣadrā’s writings on ‘ilm al-nafs (philosophy of the human soul) and his political thought. The focus of the chapter is a philosophical explanation of his idea that worldly life, with all its personal and social involvements, is one of many stages of the spiritual journey, and constitutes a descending arc into the realm of multiplicity. In order to do this, attention should first be given to Ṣadrā’s unfamiliar definition of the soul. We shall first summarise some relevant accounts of earlier major thinkers, particularly Islamic philosophers such as Fārābī, Ibn Sīnā and Suhrawardī, who sought to define the human being and its spiritual dimensions in the light of Qur’anic teachings but still relied on Platonic and Aristotelian psychological analysis and earlier Neoplatonic figures. Having made a comparative study, we elaborate on why our philosopher criticises earlier theorists on the matter, including Platonic, Avicennan and Illuminationist philosophers. Ṣadrā’s criticism relies on his unique theme that ‘the human soul is bodily in its advent and spiritual in its survival’ (al-nafs jismāniyat al-ḥudūth wa rūḥāniyat al-baqā), according to which the soul and body are not divided substances; rather the human body is a stage that the soul manifests in this world and, through this substantial change and the experience of worldly life, gradually returns once more to the spiritual world. In order to remove the dichotomy between the two realms of body and spirit, we examine Ṣadrā’s central ontological principle of the gradation of existence (tashkīk al-wujūd) and the primacy of existence over quiddity (aṣalāt al-wujūd), which permeates all branches of his philosophical system. I  will thereby show how his ontology lies at the heart of his philosophy. As he has said, from the beginning of Greek philosophy until his time, pure metaphysics tends to ­obviate the reality of existence qua existence. For him, ignorance of the ‘question of being’ (mas’alat al-wujūd) in man necessarily leads to ignorance of the self (nafs) and other sciences because it is by knowing ourselves that all things are known. The two ontological principles also help us understand that the human being is not a fixed reality limited to any particular level of existence. This is corroborated by the doctrine of ‘substantial motion’ (al-ḥarakat al-jawhariyya), that substance

52  The philosophy of the human soul is in constant flux. The bodily advent (al-hudūth al-jismānī) of the human soul and its substantial motion can aptly work together to explain Ṣadrā’s own version of the spiritual journey. Throughout this journey, the person must pass through many challenging stages in individual life from the lowest, including conflict with the inner Satan, to the highest, and from a broader perspective, dealing with other people within the social sphere. In fact, it is this process that ensures that the reality of the soul as a single existent moves throughout life from a condition of materiality and potentially to purely immaterial states. The soul therefore appears at various levels on a spectrum of gradational existence, which are in fact different modes of a single, ongoing act of existence. The soul’s presence in the material world is concomitant with many forms of multiplicity, with faculties and activities that include those of communal life, as mandated by the very nature of life in this world; at the same time, the soul does not lose its unity (waḥda) and identity. At this point, I shall involve Ṣadrā’s ontological principle of ‘unity in multiplicity’, or ‘one and many’, which for him is a division of degrees within a singular reality. The apparent opposition of unity and multiplicity was a major theme in Neoplatonism, especially in the work of Proclus (CE 412–485), and continued to be an ontological problem for Avicenna and the Peripatetics in Islamic philosophy. Ṣadrā’s discourse on how ‘the soul in its unity is all [its] faculties’ and his definition of knowledge as simply a ‘mode of being’ (naḥw al-wujūd) with a dynamic relationship with authority are similarly woven from the concept of ‘multiplicity in unity’ and rest on the idea that ‘the human soul is bodily in its advent and spiritual in its survival’, all of which form the basis for our discourse on Ṣadrā’s narrative on political philosophy.

Purification and knowledge of the self: steps on the spiritual journey Mullā Ṣadrā emphasised the importance of the distinctively spiritual dimension of human psychology, or the ‘knowledge of the soul’ (‘ilm al-nafs), in a number of ways that go beyond those his successors accorded it. Indeed, we can say that he established his own distinct philosophy of the human soul. While earlier Islamic philosophers in the traditions of falsafa and ḥikma, which were ultimately based on Aristotle’s perspective, typically considered the science of the soul as part of natural philosophy (ṭabī‘iyyāt), which extended to the various other living beings throughout the natural domain, Mullā Ṣadrā instead considered it belonging to metaphysics, complementary to the Avicennan science of the origins of things.1 By moving psychology from its traditional Aristotelian position of the physical to the metaphysical (mā ba‘d al-ṭabī‘a), he also provided a platform for his distinctive theories on divine metaphysics (al-ilāhiyyat bi ma‘na’l-khāṣṣ), including man’s specifically spiritual dimension. Thus, in Ṣadrā’s philosophy of the human soul (‘ilm al-nafs), one can continue to defend the distinctive tenets of his transcendent philosophy against those who, on the one hand, might use the success of new theories in the realms of physics and natural philosophy to criticise outdated approaches to physics (including human psychology) in their traditional forms,

The philosophy of the human soul  53 based on Aristotelian and Platonic philosophy, and on the other hand, use his innovative principles to introduce a new model of political philosophy. Mullā Ṣadrā’s analysis of the human soul is in the main based on earlier Islamic mysticism, perhaps most influentially in the writings of Suhrawardī, and especially the many interpreters of Ibn al-‘Arabī. However, as will be elaborated in this chapter, he gradually distanced himself from them in the most crucial issues, such as the soul–body relation, the relation of bodily and spiritual faculties to the soul, the effects of human acts on the soul and its substantial motion (ḥarakat al-jawharī).2 This shift from his predecessors on these central themes is an extremely pertinent point with certain present political implications. Ṣadrā’s particular metaphysical perspective led him to consider the universe as an ordered totality. In this unified worldview, he considered everything in terms of its metaphysical origin and established a corresponding doctrine that investigates the metaphysical aspects of spirituality, creation and immortality.3 For Mullā Ṣadrā, as Islamic Neoplatonists4 associated with the ideas of Plotinus and Iamblichus maintain, the sage and true wayfarer possesses a knowledge of metaphysics and the qualities of fine judgement, which unveil the truths (ḥaqā’iq) of the unseen realm. However, Ṣadrā stresses that the Truth can only derive its legitimacy from its foundation in divine grace and revelation and can never find fertile soil merely in the theoretical discussions of previous philosophers. In Asfār, Ṣadrā writes: Know that metaphysical doctrines can only be grasped by inner revelation (mukāshafāt bāṭiniyya), secret contemplation (mushāhadāt sirriyya), and existential investigations (mu‘āyanāt wujūdiyya), and cannot be really known through training in discursive doctrines.5 According to Suhrawardī6 and Ibn al-‘Arabī7 – which Ṣadrā seems to adopt wholeheartedly as a foundational principle of his ethics and spiritual psychology – the human being is able to understand reality properly only by first purifying his soul, although Ṣadrā also insists on the importance of various types of intellectual perfections drawn from preceding philosophical traditions. In a number of places,8 clearly mirroring similar assertions by earlier classical spiritual writers, he explains how he obtained all his distinctive knowledge and innovative theories by engaging in traditional forms of spiritual exercises and ascetic practices.9 Ṣadrā asserts that all of this first requires a proper understanding of the self, which he believed was the basis of true wisdom and spiritual knowledge (ma‘rifa) of the divine realities. This is because man cannot understand his own distinctive knowledge without knowing his own spiritual nature. Hence the understanding of the human soul is the means that leads to other forms of metaphysical knowledge, such as knowledge of the First Cause (al-‘Illat al-’Ūlā) and God’s Attributes, and that of ethics, the resurrection and the ultimate goal of human life.10 He summarises this in the section on ‘ilm al-nafs in Asfār: Understanding the human soul is the basis of all other divine sciences, because if a person does not know his own nature and essence, he cannot

54  The philosophy of the human soul understand his own attributes; and if he does not experience the splendour of his own attributes, he will not understand the majesty of his Creator.11 Elsewhere in Asfār he explains: ‘The key to knowledge of the day of resurrection, and the return of the creation on that ‘day’ is an understanding of the soul and its levels.’12 In his chapter on mental existence (al-wujūd al-dhihnī),13 understanding the soul is, according to him, nothing but the presence of the soul to itself, an understanding that he calls – as a first illustration of this wider principle of intuitional cognition – ‘knowledge by presence’ (al-‘ilm al-huḍūrī).14 In other words, presential knowledge begins with self-knowledge (as articulated in the doffing metaphor from Plotinus in the Theologia and as reiterated by Suhrawardī with an Islamic approach).15 It refers to the presence of something for something else (huḍūr al-shay’ lil-shay’), i.e., the presence of the psychic existence of what is intelligible to the human soul. As long as a person does not truly know or recognise his real self, or soul, through ascetic practices (rīyāḍa), he is essentially in a state of ignorance; therefore, he will be unaware of both his spiritual station ­vis-à-vis his Creator and the destination towards which he is travelling (i.e., the state of spiritual perfection). Thus, knowledge of the human soul is the foundation of all the forms of higher knowledge – most notably, that of spiritual awareness – that man is able to acquire.16 The distinctive perfection of the human soul depends on its knowledge of the Divine Source (al-mabda’ al-ilāhī) of creation and the telos of its creation and existence in the world, but this cannot be achieved unless the person is first able to know his real self or nature. Hence the perfection of the human soul is, in the ultimate analysis, dependent upon knowledge, through which man may also understand the existential dependence of his being upon the Giver of Existence.17 For Ṣadrā, many metaphysical speculations have contributed to a forgetfulness of the reality of existence since the beginning of philosophy with the Greeks up until his own time. The only way to overcome this forgetfulness is to begin to ‘intuit’ the nature of the soul, since human nature is an essential feature of existence. This conjecture becomes an explicit truth if the person liberates the determination of human nature and physicality from his subjectivity. To characterise this more simply: the existence of the soul should be present to the self but not substantiated, and this presence becomes released from its concealment if the soul is freed from all concepts of bodily and mental involvement.18 A widely known hadith of the Prophet, constantly cited throughout earlier Sufi literature, specifically states, ‘Whoever knows himself, knows his Lord.’19 Mullā Ṣadrā maintains that achieving knowledge of the divine – which includes our personal knowledge of the science of eschatology, theodicy and divine metaphysics (ilāhiyyāt) – first of all depends on our understanding of the soul. The soul, as ‘the greatest sign of God’, is a masterpiece of His creation.20 In order to put this mystic-epistemic idea into practice, throughout his life, especially during the time of his seclusion, Ṣadrā involved himself with ascetic spiritual training and purification, seeking an immediate awareness of himself devoid of bodily desire. Nevertheless, he also makes it clear in a number of places

The philosophy of the human soul 55 that his doctrines were not just the result of his spiritual retreat but also a practical response to the iniquity and moral decadence of people within his own society.21

Knowledge as power In the foregoing discussion, we were in fact attempting to set forth an example from Ṣadrā’s mysticism, that the methodology of spiritual intuition and divine vision, the knowledge of metaphysics (ilāhiyyāt) and the perfection of the human soul through consciousness of the self (all of which are introduced in the ‘traditional process of ascetic practices’) are prerequisites of the final stage of Ṣadrā’s distinctive account of the spiritual journey, in which the wayfarer must complete the purification and perfection of his soul by returning to the world, to the service of people and worldly affairs. This is the central mystical hypothesis of Ṣadrā’s views on political authority, as will be shown in more detail in the forthcoming chapters. The key point, however, in the specifics of knowledge that links Ṣadrā’s epistemology to politics, is the ‘ontology of knowledge’, which does not seem to be of particular concern to medieval thinkers.22 For Muslim Peripatetic philosophers such as Ibn Sīnā, knowledge as a psychic quality (al-kayf al-nafsānī) happens to the mind as an accident (‘araḍ) and originates in the abstraction of mental forms by the subject from external objects.23 However, according to Ṣadrā, knowledge is, in all respects, a mode of being ontologically prior to the level of the external world. For Ibn Sīnā, external phenomena have priority over mental existence at the level of human knowledge of the world, but for Ṣadrā, the being in the mind and that of the external object are two different degrees of the existence of one entity. Even though the circular and non-defınitional nature of knowledge represents commonsensical epistemology in Islamic thought and is shared by various schools, this is where Mullā Ṣadrā makes a departure from his predecessors by equating knowledge (‘ilm) with being (wujūd). For Ṣadrā, the ultimate object of knowledge is being (or existence) particularised through a myriad of modes, states and instances. In fact, in many places, Ṣadrā defines knowledge simply as a mode of being (naḥw al-wujūd): If someone is ignorant about the question of being, he is of necessity ignorant about all of the principles of knowledge and foundations, because it is through being that everything is known, and it is the beginning of all description (taṣawwur) and more known than anything that provides description. When one ignores it, one ignores everything beside it. As we have mentioned before, the true knowledge of being comes about only through unveiling (kashf ) and witnessing (mushahada). It has thus been said that ‘he who has no unveiling has no knowledge’.24 This clearly appears to suggest why the relation between the knower and the known is referred to as presence (huḍūr). This means that, apart from the presence of the reality of the soul to itself, Ṣadrā defines knowledge as ‘the presence

56  The philosophy of the human soul (huḍūr) of a thing (shay’) to the soul’. In this sense, knowledge is not a correspondence between two different aspects of existence but their unification. Philosophically speaking, knowledge is the realisation of a form of being at a more intense level, in other words an existential promotion, a becoming, as an ascent from a lower level of being to a higher. This provides an important premise from which one can draw the conclusion of ‘knowledge as perfection and power’. The explanation of this psycho-ontological idea is that the mode of being proper to intelligible forms is higher than the mode of being proper to material substances. The order of intelligibility has a higher ontological status because it transcends the limitations of corporeality. Intelligible forms have a concrete existence of their own and are even more concrete and ‘powerful’ than corporeal substances. That is why Ṣadrā states: The realisation of perceptual forms for [in] the perceiving substance is stronger in realisation (taḥṣīl) and perfection (takmīl) than the realisation of natural forms in matter and its kinds.25 We can summarise Ṣadrā’s arguments for his theory as follows. When the mind perceives a sensate object, it transforms it into a mental concept, leaving its sensate and corporeal properties behind. When we look at a mountain, for instance, our minds do not become rock. When we think of fire, our minds do not become hot. For Ṣadrā, this simply means that the mind does not appropriate such ‘weak qualities’ as position, time, matter, growth, and the like. By eliminating such material qualities, we do not become less knowledgeable about things but come closer to grasping their intelligible forms and eventually uniting with them.26 The senses through which we come to experience sensibilia help us establish the corporeal reality of things, whereas their meaning and intelligible structure is disclosed by the intellect and by its participation in the world of intelligibilia. The knowledge of things obtained through the intellect, which we must understand in its Sadrian sense of uniting with the intelligible world (ittiḥād al-‘āqil wa’lma‘qūl), is closer to the nature of things. Even when looking at sensible objects, the intellect seeks the intelligible form and structure in them; otherwise we would be mistaking the function of the intellect for that of the senses. In fact, this is also the basis of the Aristotelian concept of hylomorphism and ‘abstraction’: we know things by abstracting and extracting their form from the material substrate. This explains why Ṣadrā considers intellection as the ‘disclosure’ of being; by knowing things, we become ‘united’ with their intelligible forms, which are beyond their corporeal-sensate attributes.27 This characterization of knowledge formation as the locus for the existential elevation of the soul plays an important role within that psychological/ontological discourse that provides a key premise in the political philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā. For him, through this unification (ittiḥād), the immediate object of knowledge (ma‘lūm bi’l-dhāt) and the soul are involved in an existential relation that results in the actualisation of the ‘matter’ of the soul by noetic forms. Accordingly, once the soul truly understands something, it becomes one with its intelligible form.28 As an heir to Peripatetic philosophy, Mullā Ṣadrā considers the perfection of the

The philosophy of the human soul  57 intellective faculty as the highest achievement of the human soul, and in his commentary on the chapter of proof (kitāb al-ḥujja) of Uṣūl al-Kāfī, he follows his Peripatetic predecessors in making the perfection of the human intellect contingent on its connection to the agent intellect (al-‘aql al-fa‘‘āl). Mullā Ṣadrā writes on the superiority of knowledge in kitāb faḍl al-‘ilm (the book of the superiority of knowledge), an earlier section in Uṣūl al-Kāfī. In this section of his Sharḥ Uṣūl al-Kāfī, he explains the soul’s need to perfect knowledge beyond its original imperfection and the dark (zulmānī) nature of the body, and in kitāb al-ḥujja, he attributes this level to prophets, imams and saints (awlīyā’). In general, discourse on the superiority of knowledge and its attribution to the imam is an important component of the Shi‘a intellectual heritage.29 The traditions report the Imams as saying that ‘we are those firms in knowledge’ (al-rāsikhūn fi al-‘ilm).30 In Ṣadrā’s other texts, this idea is implied by the doctrine of the all-comprehensiveness of the perfect soul, or the perfect man, the pole (al-quṭb) or the saint (walī). All his writing on this issue is based on the ontological link between knowledge and power (qudra). This link in the divine realm is a pivotal principle in Shi‘a philosophical theology, elaborated by Ṣadrā’s predecessors and expanded by him and based on the Sufi-philosophical doctrine of the unity of being, which we will elaborate upon in Chapter 7 of the present volume. However, in this chapter we will address Ṣadrā’s theory on knowledge, which is based on the most important psychological and ontological principles of his philosophy. These principles are the primacy of the reality of existence (aṣālat al-wujūd); the gradation of existence (tashkīk al-wujūd); Ṣadrā’s definition of being as goodness par excellence (khayr mahd, summun bonum), since being is not only the ontic and/or physical ground of things but also the source of such axiological qualities as reality, meaning, truth, intelligibility, goodness, beauty, plenitude, perfection and so forth; and finally, the central theme of Ṣadrā’s philosophy, to which we devote most of the discussion in this chapter, i.e., the ‘human’ (al-insān) as the subject of perfection. As a higher state of being, ‘humanity’ contains everything that belongs to plants and animals. Plants thrive on vegetation, animals possess the vegetative faculty, plus a host of other qualities absent in plants, such as mobility and sensation, and man contains all of these qualities at a higher level, or in what Ṣadrā calls the ‘simplicity of the soul’ (biṣāṭat ­al-nafs). Humankind contains the totality of plant and animal attributes in a ‘simple ­manner’, and being a simple substance vis-á-vis the states below it, humankind is of a higher ontological status. Ṣadrā expresses this in a phrase that we do not find in other philosophers, i.e., ‘a simple reality is all things’ (baṣīṭ al-haqīqa kull al-ashyā’).31 To understand these key principles, we first need to have an accurate picture of Ṣadrā’s thoughts on the human being, and therefore in the following discussion we elaborate on different aspects of his discourse on the philosophy of the human soul (‘ilm al-nafs).

The nature and definition of the human being In order to understand Ṣadrā’s definition of the soul, we should first summarise his conception of how earlier major philosophers had described it. In particular,

58  The philosophy of the human soul Islamic philosophers who sought to understand the spiritual dimension of the human soul in the light of Aristotelian psychological analysis often relied on language drawn from earlier Neoplatonic figures.32 Plato and other ancient philosophers considered the soul as an immaterial reality independent of matter, existing before the body and joining it when the body came into the material world. Accordingly, the soul accompanies the body for as long as the latter has the power to support it, and when the body weakens and dies, the soul will depart to another realm. In this conception, the soul can be compared to the captain of a ship.33 In contrast, Aristotle’s analysis of the human soul, as presented in his De Anima and later interpreted by Alexander of Aphrodisias and Porphyry, had been adopted with little modification by such earlier influential Muslim philosophers such as Fārābī (872–950), Ibn Sīnā (980–1037) and Ibn Miskawayh (929–1029).34 According to Aristotle, the human soul  – as does that of other animals – is what gives life and actuality to the material body. He speaks of the soul in all animated beings as simply the form of the body, i.e., the way the body behaves. Hence, the soul is not capable of existing without the body. Aristotle therefore classically defined the soul (in this limited sense as the organising life principle) as being ‘the first entelechy of a natural organised body possessing the capacity of life’.35 Fārābī had a flexible attitude towards both Plato’s and Aristotle’s ideas concerning the soul. Although he followed Aristotle in his definition of the soul,36 considering it as the first entelechy (al-kamāl al-awwal) of the natural body (al-jism al-ṭabī‘ī) or as the form of the living body, in a few (possibly apocryphal) works, he apparently differed with Aristotle, when he thought of the soul as a simple, spiritual substance inherent in the body but not as a spiritual substance capable of existing independently of the body, as Plato believed.37 When the human soul develops into an actualised intellect and can think of immaterial forms, Fārābī calls it an ‘acquired intellect’, and this ‘acquired intellect’ survives physical death and emerges as a part of the intelligible universe. Therefore human souls that have not developed into an actualised intellect cannot survive bodily death, since they are mere ‘power’ in the body. In other words, for Fārābī, whereas the human soul in its initial stage is the entelechy of the body in the Aristotelian sense, at the end of its developmental career, it becomes an independent spiritual substance in the sense in which a pilot is the entelechy of a ship.38 At the very beginning of his inquiry on the soul (dealing, like Aristotle’s De Anima, first with the ‘souls’ of animals), Ibn Sīnā asserts that we infer the existence of the soul from the fact that we observe bodies that perform certain acts with some degree of volition. These acts are exemplified in taking nourishment, growing, reproducing, moving and perceiving. They do not belong to the nature of bodies; therefore their origin must be elsewhere, that origin being precisely the soul.39 However, when Ibn Sīnā turns to the special case of the human intellect, he maintains that, although the human soul is only a potential intellect at the beginning of its sojourn in this world, it can nevertheless become – if, and to the extent that, it becomes a fully realised intellect – an immaterial spiritual substance capable of existing independently of the body. In this case, the human body is

The philosophy of the human soul  59 there only to serve the purpose of the potential intellect’s ultimate realisation as an actual intellect (al-‘aql bil-fi‘l). According to Ibn Sīnā’s ambiguous and historically controversial formulations, which can be understood either as philosophy or as more traditionally religious, after achieving this absolutely immaterial state, the individual human soul (qua realised intellect) leaves the body and keeps the intellective characteristics that have been objectified in it as mere attributes during its lifetime.40 Ibn Sīnā accepts the generic Aristotelian definition of the soul (of all animated beings) just cited and considers the soul at this level as ‘the first perfection’ of the natural body. However, he differs with Aristotle when he emphasises the difference between entelechy and form. Entelechy according to Aristotle is equal to form, which cannot stand by itself, while Ibn Sīnā believes that ‘entelechy’ and ‘form’ are not interchangeable terms. Each form is equal to entelechy, but each entelechy is not a form. Therefore, the definition of the soul as entelechy (although he thinks that this is a comprehensive definition of the souls in this world of ours), besides being ambiguous, does not include all souls, e.g., the souls of the heavenly spheres, which neither work through a physical organ – since they are eternally incorporeal substances – nor possess sense-perception, while their intellect is also eternally actual and not potential and passive like the human intellect.41 He states that in the case of the fully realised intellectual dimension of the human soul, it is a ‘perfection separate (from matter)’ (al-kamāl al-mufāriq), which neither has the form of matter nor is located in it.42 When discussing the human soul specifically, he insists on the intellectual aspects of the soul, such as thinking, inference and perception of the universals.43 Ibn Sīnā’s conception of the human soul as an incorporeal substance ab initio raised objections against him. As Mullā Ṣadrā mentions, one of his contemporaries asked him, if the human soul is a separate substance from the start, why is it not an actual intellect and only a potential one, since the only condition of something being an intellect and intelligible in actuality is that it be separate from matter? To this, Ibn Sīnā replied that for something to be an actual intellect, it is not sufficient to be separate from matter but to be absolutely separate from it, i.e., that matter should neither be the occasion of its coming-into-existence nor the vehicle of its subsistence.44 For Mullā Ṣadrā, Ibn Sīnā’s reply was not satisfactory because in his view Ibn Sīnā, like his predecessors, could not solve the problem of the dichotomy of the soul as spiritual substance and the body as corporeal substance. Ṣadrā’s account of the soul and his solution for the soul-body dichotomy rests on his fundamental principle of ‘substantive change’ (ḥarakat al-jawharī) and the doctrine of the ‘emerging’ of the incorporeal substance of the soul from the body, together with his key principle that ‘the soul is bodily in its origin but spiritual in its survival’ (jismāniyyat al-hudūth rūḥāniyyat al-baqā), all of which will constitute one of the foundations of his political philosophy, as will be examined in our coming discussions.45 Mullā Ṣadrā quotes passages in his Asfār indicating that, according to ­Aristotle and earlier Peripatetic philosophers, the soul (nafs) is defined mainly by its

60  The philosophy of the human soul connection to the body.46 Nevertheless, the human nafs is also seen as the origin of intellectual activity and universal perception. He writes in his Mafātīh alGhayb that all the definitions of the soul that are presented by earlier Muslim philosophers as being essential definitions are in reality only nominal or partially descriptive, since the human nafs is in reality ‘one of God’s spiritual lights’ (nūrun min anwār Allah al-ma‘nawiyya).47 He explains that the soul has a unique type of existence that is continuously being transformed in its substance and that it therefore does not have a static essence or particular stage of existence like most other existents located in the natural realms, so its definition must be in the context of its special mode of inherently transforming existence. As he explains in a key ­passage of his interpretation of the Qur’anic ‘Verse of Light’: You should learn of the degrees of man, his journey, his travelling in the levels of [his] body, soul and intellect until he reaches the highest goals of the ascent to that from which he descended. Then know this concerning the degrees of that which he feeds upon, gets strength from, develops and perfects.48 According to this inherently dynamic existence, it would be very hard to perceive or define the constantly transforming essence of each individual’s nafs as it actually is. All other definitions of the soul can only indicate the relative perfection of its existence compared with the body, and they usually refer descriptively to the general classes of its perceptions and transformations, which are considered attributes or accidents of the soul (al-‘awāriḍ al-idrākiyya lil-nafs).49 Thus, for Ṣadrā, such broad generic definitions do not begin to clarify its actual essence. At best, they merely define the observable earthly relationship between the nafs and the body, whereas the individual human soul is in reality a highly distinct substance (jawharun khāṣ). As he explains, this is like when we define a builder as a person who constructs buildings, a description that indeed defines that person as a builder but not as a human being.50 Similarly, in a preliminary attempt to define the soul, Mullā Ṣadrā believes that the human nafs can be described as a simple entity or as an ‘active power’ (al-quwwā al-fā‘iliyya) that is capable of causing various effects, but he goes on to point out that this active agent, which has different corporeal faculties, also has an inner, spiritual aspect whose definition cannot be dealt with in natural science. This aspect of the person is what Ṣadrā refers to in his philosophy of the soul as ‘simple essence’ (al-dhāt al-basīṭa), an essence that has its origin in the realm of oneness and indivisible, immaterial noetic realities.51 In Islamic thought, two terms can refer to the different animating human dimensions – whether biological, psychic, intellectual or spiritual – namely, ‘soul’ (nafs) and ‘spirit’ (rūḥ). In Mullā Ṣadrā’s writings, one often cannot tell which he is explicitly referring to in this regard. Following Aristotle and earlier Islamic philosophers,52 he often uses nafs to refer to that dimension of the soul that is specifically related to the human body, although he also sometimes uses rūḥ as an alternative.53 For example, in his al-‘Arshiyya, he uses rūḥ to refer to what he calls nafs in other works.54 The distinction does become clearer, however, when he adds

The philosophy of the human soul  61 specifying suffixes to the generic term rūh. Most often he maintains that the nafs and the ‘spirit’ (rūḥ) are two successive levels of the soul, for the human soul, in Ṣadrā’s own doctrine, encompasses different aspects of a ‘single reality’ that, on the basis of the underlying theory of the gradational reality of existence (tashkīk al-wujūd), is in a constant, gradual development towards a purely immaterial spiritual condition, hence it necessarily has different levels and corresponding descriptive names. Thus, in comparing the different levels of the soul to those of classical Sufi spiritual psychology built on a familiar set of Qur’anic terms, Ṣadrā enumerates seven successive ascending degrees of existence for the soul: nature (ṭabī‘a), soul (nafs), intellect (‘aql), spirit (rūḥ), the ‘secret’ or ‘inner reality’(sirr), the ‘hidden’ reality (khafī), and the ‘most hidden’ state (akhfā) that is the culminating condition of perfect spiritual union with God. Therefore, from this more detailed phenomenological perspective, the nafs and the rūḥ are not two independent entities but rather two names (among others) for different developmental stages of the one reality that unfolds through the process of spiritual perfection, or ‘transformation in substance’.55 He summarises this in Asfār as follows: The being of the complete person has seven principal levels in ascending order: nature (dhāt), soul (nafs), reason (‘aql), spirit (rūḥ), mystery (sirr), hidden (khafī) and most hidden (akhfā’).56 Ṣadrā therefore believes that the soul is not a stationary immaterial substance (as in the earlier philosophical conceptions of Plato, Fārābī and Ibn Sīnā, where it is restricted to pure ‘intellect’) but a substance that essentially undergoes change, in this case an ongoing, transforming process of development that is intrinsic to its most essential being. The first characteristic of the soul relates to the material life of nutrition, growth and procreation; then to sensation and bodily transformation; and finally to knowledge that differentiates between good and evil, carries out rational and logical demonstration and cognises universal ideas. For each of these levels of the life of the soul, there is an underlying principle, by which the function of the life manifested at each level is emanated to the body’s material substrate. This common underlying principle has been called the soul or spirit, the lowest level of which is the vegetal soul, the intermediate level the animal soul, and the highest level the human or rational soul.57 As we have seen, Ṣadrā does accept Aristotle’s initial definition of soul (in all beings) as ‘the entelechy of the body,’ since for him this refers only to the first stage (of ‘nature’, ṭabī‘a) in the process of human spiritual development and transformation. Prior to giving this preliminary definition of the soul in Asfār, he says: God, due to His favour and benignity, does not deprive any existent [creature] from coming into its due existence. Hence His creation from the lowest level to the highest is not restricted by any limitation.58 Based on this theory, then, at each level of existence there is the potentiality of transcending to a higher level. The reason is that no creature has been created

62  The philosophy of the human soul without a purpose. Accordingly, every being in creation, due to its essential nature, moves towards its own telos.59 In particular, the human soul, which first appears on earth as the first entelechy of the bodily entity, has an intrinsic potentiality to move towards its ultimate end (and origin), which is its perfection in the spiritual realm. The doctrine of substantial transformation (intiqāl al-jawharī) from potentiality to actuality distinguishes Ṣadrā from his predecessors;60 both Fārābī and Ibn Sīnā, following earlier philosophers, spoke of three stages of the human soul and the intrinsic potentiality of each level to move to a higher one, yet none of them could explain essential perfection through substantial motion as Ṣadrā did. We explained that Fārābī defined the soul as a ‘power’ in the body, emerging from it until it becomes an independent spiritual substance, but for Ṣadrā, the emergence of an immaterial substance is self-contradictory. Emerging requires potentiality, and potentiality needs a body and matter, which neither Ibn Sīnā nor Fārābī could accept. The only solution, according to Ṣadrā, is to define the soul as a bodily substance after its descent to this world. Ṣadrā uses the term zuhūr (manifestation) when he speaks of the descending grades of entities to this world. When the human soul descends to this world, it manifests as a body (zuhūruhā bi zuhūr albadan) because this is the world of matter, and any entity descending to this world should become material, otherwise it would not be in this world. Thus the human soul manifest as a body, but through a gradual substantial change it becomes spirit. As much as the soul moves toward the spiritual, it would distance from the bodily realm and approach the realm of intellect.61 In Asfār, Ṣadrā says that he has succeeded in reconciling Plato’s views with those of the Peripatetic philosophers on the issue of whether the human soul is created along with the body or is instead ‘eternal.’62 He accepts Ibn Sīnā’s twofold definition that the human soul is the first perfection of the natural body as well as an immaterial substance,63 indivisible in its essence, and is not of the same type as other natural, material entities. For Ibn Sīnā, it is this soul that bestows life on the body, and as such it employs the body as a tool to perform its tasks of perception and physical activity. To synthesise all these elements in his account of the human soul, Mullā Ṣadrā maintains that the living body is not the container of the immaterial soul, in the sense that the soul and the living body are two separate, dichotomous entities. Rather the soul and the body are two manifested aspects of one single reality. For Ṣadrā, they are not two separate and independent substances that have a categorical relationship (al-iḍāfa al-maqūliyya) with each other.64 Instead, he says that we must talk here about two dimensions of one unique essence that appears throughout different successive levels of being. Consequently, the same thing can have two apparently opposing aspects at the same time: one dimension of the soul can be immaterial and eternal, while another can be related with matter. Unlike the heavenly (post-mortem and perfected, or angelic) souls, the human soul initially appears earthly in its essence, encumbered by and in need of matter.65 Therefore, unlike Fārābī and Ibn Sīnā, Mullā Ṣadrā does not regard the human soul (qua intellect) as having only one degree of existence and hence as inevitably

The philosophy of the human soul  63 stationary and unchangeable. Contrary to the view of these two philosophers, the distinction between the different states of the soul is not based on ‘accidents’ distinct from its essence that have occurred through the soul’s association with the body in this material world. Rather, these differences are due to differing levels of perfection or intensification of the soul’s spiritual substance.66 According to Ibn Sīnā, the essence of the sages and prophets comparing with the ordinary people should necessarily be the same both in the first and last stage of their life, and the only difference between them is due to their accidental perfections. Based on such an assumption, the annihilation to the Sacred Realm (‘Ālam al-Quds) is not meaningful, because the accidental perfections of the soul never change the substance of the soul, and as long as the soul is substantially unchanged, it cannot be united with intelligibilia and the Sacred realm.’67 The identity of each person depends on his being one and the same soul. Thus, on the one hand, Ṣadrā maintains that the person is a single, indivisible identity, yet on the other, as we have just seen, he also says that there are two dimensions to this identity, one here on earth, and one in the higher states of existence in the barzakh: the soul and the body. This becomes clear in Ṣadrā’s discussion of the physical faculties (al-quwā al-jismiyya) of the earthly human soul. The soul’s presence in the material world is concomitant with many forms of multiplicity (the faculties, activities, perceptions, etc.), as mandated by the very nature of the material world; at the same time, the human soul does not lose its unity (waḥda) and on-going identity. He attempts to resolve this apparent contradiction by proposing that there is actually unity in multiplicity and vice versa. In his own words, ‘The soul in its unity has all the (material and spiritual) faculties’ (al-nafs fî waḥdatihā kull al-quwā):68 The soul has many emergent states and degrees. Despite its simplicity, it has many existential levels: some are prior to [the human soul’s emergence in bodily] Nature, some together with [its embodied existence in] Nature, and some [in higher psychic and spiritual states] posterior to Nature.69 In any case, the soul is not an entelechy in all matter but only for natural organic bodies that are capable of development. Ṣadrā reminds us we cannot say that the soul’s relation to the body is like that of the captain of the ship, even though the soul does control the body, because a ship and its captain are two separate entities.70 By the same token, the individuated soul does not originate through the mixture of a pre-existent spiritual reality and base matter, but rather it is a single existent that manifests in different modes in different stages of existence. This ongoing substance that constantly evolves toward higher levels of existence transforms from the stage of potentiality to actuality, from its bodily abode to immateriality, and from multiplicity to unity. The realm of matter is composed of multiplicities, including those of communal life. The soul must pass through

64  The philosophy of the human soul all the stages of material life before it is released from the lower stages of its being within the body. Yet the transformation of man’s soul is not necessarily concomitant with perfection, since depending on the manner in which he deals with worldly matters in the corporeal realm, he approaches either the Divine realm or the Satanic.71 By defining all change as substantial evolution in the nature of things, Ṣadrā moves away from change as a doctrine of external relations, as Greek and Islamic atomism had proposed, to a process of existential transformation, whereby things become existentially ‘more’ or ‘less’. This is an ontological approach to his psychology within the larger context of his gradational ontology. Substantial motion and the dynamic view of the universe that it espouses can thus be seen as a logical extension of the primacy (aṣalat) and gradation of being (tashkīk al-wujūd), two key theories of Sadrian ontology.72 All these innovative doctrines are gathered into a pioneering doctrine of the bodily advent of the human soul in order to demonstrate its constant evolutional change, from its bodily advent in this world to the stage of spirituality. This requires a totally new perspective on the nature of soul and its relation with body and worldly affairs. Within this psycho-metaphysical explanation that I have just explored and will elaborate from different angles, the substantial differences between the spiritual and material, between the eternal and temporal, between the unseen and the seen of this world are removed, and a path towards a narrative for the reconciliation of the exoteric and esoteric, bodily desire and piety, and politics and mysticism is paved.

A philosophical explanation of the bodily advent (jismānīyat al-ḥudūth) of the human soul The bodily advent of the human soul and its spiritual survival (al-nafs jismāniyyat al-ḥudūth wa ruḥāniyyat al-baqā’) is probably the most innovative doctrine of Mullā Ṣadrā, which distinguishes his philosophy of the human being from that of all other Muslim philosophers. This narrative of the soul–body relation is introduced in this study as a key premise in Ṣadrā’s political philosophy, which with his other doctrine, i.e., that of substantial motion (ḥarakat al-Jawharī), can aptly work together to explain his own version of the four spiritual journeys. Throughout these journeys, the human being must pass through many challenging stages, from the lowest to the highest, both in individual life, which includes combat with the inner Satan and, in the broader context of coexistence, with other people in the life of society. In his approach to the soul–body relationship, Mullā Ṣadrā develops an original philosophical explanation and contends that, while both the soul and the body have their own divine cause, they are related to each other at a material level. In their relation, the body requires the soul as a form in order to be ‘actualised’, and the soul needs the body in order to be ‘individualised’. Therefore, the soul and the body not only act upon but also depend upon each other existentially. Where

The philosophy of the human soul  65 he explains the body–soul relationship in Asfār,73 Ṣadrā provides a classification of various kinds of associations through which two things may be related to each other. In its early stages of generation, the soul requires the body to manifest in its bodily abode, but this body is not a specific static body because it changes through a process of substantial transformation: The human being is the ‘totality’ of soul and body. These two, despite their hierarchical difference, are two existents that subsist through one act of being (wujūd). . . . The human body becomes more powerful in conjunction with the soul, and the unification of the two becomes stronger and more concentrated. Finally, when intellective existence comes about, they become one indivisible thing.74 From this perspective, the soul must take on a material form as it embarks upon earthly existence and becomes associated with the body. This is where Mullā Ṣadrā departs from his predecessors75 and proposes that adopting a material form and bonding with the body are essential for the eventual spiritual development of the human soul. For him, the worldly form (al-ṣūrat al-dunyawiyya) of the person can be actualised only through the specific material conditions and specifications appropriate to each stage of its development. As he states: ‘In its early existence, the soul must take a physical form, because it joins matter in order to actualise the human being.’76 Mullā Ṣadrā’s account of the existential relationship of the body and soul rests upon his fundamental principle of ‘emergence’, or ‘substantial change’ (al-ḥarakat al-jawhariyya);77 the human being is a single existential reality, which first appears as a body (jism) and then, through an inner transformation, becomes the vegetal soul, then the animal soul and ultimately the human soul in all its subsequent states and transformations.78 According to Ṣadrā, man moves (in the form of an embryo and then, after the divine spirit is blown into the body) from the vegetal state to the animal state and ultimately is born in this material form as a potential human being.79 Yet even when man is in the vegetal state, he is also potentially an animal. He is then born as a human being, and finally, at the age of adolescence, he has developed all the capacities necessary for a fully responsible, adult human being. Even then he has the spiritual potential to become either an angel or a disciple of the Devil.80 All of these subsequent stages lie hidden within the first substance, which through transformation traverses the different stages of existence until it has the capability to become completely divorced from all matter and potentiality and even to enjoy immortality in the world of pure intelligence in a state of pure spiritual perfection (kamāl):81 The truth is that, in accordance with the principle of substantial change or transformation, which is also expressed by the principle of the gradation (tashkīk) of existence, the soul first emerges as vegetative, then as perceptive and locomotive at the animal level, then as potential intellect (al-‘aql

66  The philosophy of the human soul bi’l-quwwa), and finally as pure intellect (al-‘aql al-maḥḍ), when the term ‘soul’ [i.e., nafs, in its restrictive sense as the life-principle of a body] can no longer apply to it. The soul has its being at all these levels, and at each of these levels, it is in a sense the same, and yet in a sense different, because the same being can pass through different stages of development.82 This theory demands that since the soul emerges within the basis of matter, it is therefore a product of the trans-substantial motion of the body.83 In the same way that fruit and branch are naturally located together, the soul and the body enjoy just such a natural and essential relationship, in which the body has the status of a background and ‘potentia’ with regard to the soul. At this point, Ṣadrā criticises earlier Islamic philosophers, Platonic, Avicennan, Illuminationist or otherwise, and attempts to demonstrate the impossibility of combining two essentially different entities, i.e., a purely immaterial soul and a material body.84 The Sadrian principle of substantial transformation and the gradational reality of existence (al-tashkīk fī al-ḥaqīqat al-wujūd) lead us to the fact that man is not a fixed reality limited to any particular level of existence and that his whole existence is a flowing spectrum, which moves from a condition of materiality and potentially to purely immaterial states. The human soul develops through a continuum of substantial transformation and therefore appears at various levels on this spectrum, which are in fact different modes of its single ongoing act of existence. Ṣadrā himself points out this interesting consequence in his own philosophical language: In general everybody, and every bodily entity whose being is in any way connected with matter, is constantly renewed in its essence, and is in a state of constant transition in its being and its individuality.85 Substantial form is present in all kinds of bodies, and there is no body in which this substantial form does not pervade the entirety of its parts, and the human soul, as ‘a bodily entity in its advent and early stages’, is likewise subject to this principle of dynamic change in its substance:86 In truth, the human soul is corporeal in [its initial] existence and realisation, and spiritual in its subsistence and intellection. Hence, its disposal in the corporeal body is corporeal, whereas the intellection of its essence and of the essence of its Maker is spiritual.87 In stating this, Ṣadrā explains how he can agree with the Platonic idea of the immateriality and pre-existence of the soul, whilst at the same time maintaining his principle of its material advent. He believes that the soul emanates from ‘the world of Oneness’ (al-‘ālam al-waḥda), which is the world of the immaterial (‘ālam al-tajarrud) and of the intellects (‘ālam al-‘uqūl), but that the purely immaterial being, which is also ‘simple and indivisible’ (basīṭ), cannot manifest in this world without multiplicity and individuality.88 Therefore, the unique and

The philosophy of the human soul  67 immaterial soul of each person comes into this world as the material entity of a different individual person, whose individuation (tashakhkhuṣ) is rooted in their specific bodily matter (mādda).89 As opposed to the Peripatetics before him,90 Ṣadrā maintains that after the human soul appears as the body, its movement towards perfection has two sources. First, the soul’s nature (ṭabī‘a) itself has an inherent inclination towards substantial transformation, as with all the lower beings in nature. Secondly, an external dynamic force also propels the soul towards perfection. Here Ṣadrā says that that Active Source (al-Mabda’ al-Fa‘‘āl) bestows its effusion (ifāḍa) upon the soul. In Asfār there are passages indicating his preference for the idea of this transforming higher spiritual effusion, as for example: A series of consecutive, substantial perfections (al-kamālāt al-jawhariyya) is effused from the Active Source. This series begins with the mineral form, then the vegetative form, animal substance, and so on.91 His two ideas of change as a result of ‘substantial transformation’ and ‘effusion’ are not meant to be mutually exclusive. It would be reasonable to say that effusion occurs whenever matter undergoes substantial transformation to the point of acquiring a particular level of potentiality. According to the preceding passage, the soul develops through ‘becoming in its earthly life’, but the trend and its ­various levels of development are marked by the active intellects that – a­ ccording to the established cosmological schemas of the earlier Greek and Muslim ­philosophers – are understood to set apart one species from another.92 Using his conception of the ‘bodily advent of the soul’, Mullā Ṣadrā says that the human being, during its substantial evolution toward the spiritual realm, forms an individual ‘spiritual personality’ (shakhṣiyyat al-ruḥānī). The difference in spiritual development amongst individual human beings is therefore due to their relative movement toward the higher stages of the soul’s development, but only the path that leads to God constitutes the existential perfection of the soul. Through this path, man can reach the highest levels of perfection, but if he overdevelops his bestial powers by surrendering to his animal desires, his soul may conversely embark upon one of the many paths leading to Hell. At the beginning of this transforming movement, the soul stands between this world and the next because from the moment it enters this material world, it has potentially all the forms in the spectrum of the stages of development in this world and in the Hereafter: Thus the soul is the junction of the two seas of corporeal and spiritual things; its being the last of the corporeal realities is a sign of its being the first of the spiritual ones. If you consider its substance in this world, you will find it the principle of all the bodily powers, employing all the animal and vegetal forms in its service, but if you consider its substance in the world of the Intellect, you will find that its source is in that world, its fundamental nature is pure potential without form; but it has the capability of moving from potency to actuality with regard to the Intellect and the intelligible.93

68  The philosophy of the human soul For Ṣadrā, the ‘perfect human being’ has a harmonious balance between the lowest and the highest, between matter and the immaterial, that encompasses the highest degree of humanity. The character of each individual in the next world is the ‘product’ of that individual’s earthly life, including all its personal and social involvements. The philosophical doctrine concerning the human soul we studied in this section is given great consideration by almost all readers of Ṣadrā’s philosophy in the Persian and Western languages.94 For many of them, however, Ṣadrā’s explanation of the existence of the soul and its relation with the body is meant simply to justify his doctrines on the soul and bodily resurrection in the afterlife or is merely his theoretical explanation of the nature of the human soul (‘ilm al-nafs) and its related principles. However, as will be shown in more detail, our approach to Ṣadrā’s view introduces other aspects of a practical philosophy that provide the key premises of his politics. Ṣadrā’s solution to the soul–body relation and his explanation of the bodily origin of the human soul may seem contrary to his religious credo regarding the pre-existence of the human soul, as well as his celebrated doctrine of the soul’s journey in descending and ascending arcs (qaws al-ṣu‘ūd wa al-nuzūl), since the descent of the soul from the realm of divinity to this world would require the human soul to be immaterial. The following discussion will examine Ṣadrā’s ­solution for these apparently conflicting ideas.

The pre-existence of the human soul Ṣadrā’s theory of the bodily advent of the human soul may raise the question that, if the soul is material in its advent and only becomes spiritual through experiencing this world, then how does he explain the incorporeality of the soul and its existence before descending to the physical world? In other words, how can Ṣadrā justify the pre-existence of the soul as both the philosophical consensus of Greek and Muslim philosophers and as a religious belief elaborated in scripture? For Ṣadrā there is no doubt that the human soul is an immortal and immaterial phenomenon. However, this view does not contradict his idea of the ‘bodily existence of the soul’, but rather it provides us with another premise for his political model. This dilemma may be expressed in another way. First of all, based on Ṣadrā’s theory of the bodily advent of the human soul, it would appear that the soul does not pre-exist but comes into existence when it enters the material world. Therefore, by stating that the soul is not separate from and independent of matter, it apparently seems that Ṣadrā cannot share the same views on the pre-existence of the soul that are usually attributed to Muslim philosophers95 and theologians and to their Platonist and Neo-Platonist predecessors.96 Ṣadrā was aware that he must reconcile his views on the soul with religious teachings in general and the Islamic narrations (hadith) from the Prophet and the Imams. Through his particular interpretation of those narrations, he was able to harmonise his theories on the bodily advent of the individual soul with scriptural and religious statements, as well as

The philosophy of the human soul  69 the philosophical traditions of Muslim philosophers and mystics concerning the soul’s pre-existence.97 For Plato, the soul is an independent, pre-existent, essential and immaterial aspect of the human being that is temporarily united with the body.98 Mullā Ṣadrā agrees with Plato on the soul’s pre-existence and uses some of Plato’s arguments to demonstrate its immaterial existence before its advent in the material realm. He states, as does Plato, that the human soul is in a purely intellectual realm before arriving in the body,99 but he does not agree with Plato in maintaining that, before coming to the material world, the human soul existed individually,100 thereby asserting an ‘individual’ pre-existence, since the notion of a non-material individuality conflicts with Ṣadrā’s other philosophical principles. Therefore, for him, this pre-existence means that the soul existed in the intellectual realm not as an individual but as a purely intellective existence in and with the universal ­Intellect. He illustrates this as being ‘like a drop of water in the ocean’.101 To demonstrate his point, Mullā Ṣadrā quotes the following well-known Qur’anic verse: ‘And when your Lord brought forth from the children of Adam, from their loins, their descendants, and made them testify concerning themselves (saying): “Am I not your Lord?” they said: “Yes! We do testify!” ’ (7:172). Inspired by this passage, Ṣadrā explains in his al-Mashā‘ir: The first creatures that He created were the pure and holy souls. Then he asked them to accept His Lordship. . . . [T]hen He created His other creatures.102 Elsewhere, Ṣadrā maintains that: The essence of the human soul is from the origin of the Dominion (Malakūt) and the realm of pure light of the Logos (‘aql).103 Regarding this verse, which is usually taken as evidence of the pre-existence of the human spirit, Ṣadrā says that the testimony given by the pre-existent souls or spirits (Yes, we bear witness) is actually given ‘collectively’ by the intelligible ‘Reality’ of the soul that dwells in the world of the ‘Lordly Presence’ (al-Ḥaḍarat al-Rubūbiyya). The individual human soul relates to this Absolute Reality (al-Ḥaqīqat al-Maḥḍ) as its particular manifestation, of a kind that has what he calls – using a favourite technical term in the thought of Ibn al-‘Arabī – an intangible existence (raqīqa) or ‘lack of density.’104 Applying existence to the soul at its lower stage, i.e., bodily existence, is the predication of an intangible reality, and the immaterial soul is the predication of a real existent. If someone detaches himself from the limitations of the material realm, he subsequently passes from the witnessing of intangible existence to the witnessing of a real and more intense existence – i.e., from the exterior to the interior, since the exterior is a mode of the interior. The secret of this point is that the manifestation of existents at the exterior level is governed by the limitations of this level. If man breaks through this stage by spiritual struggle, he will assuredly be able to see the reality of the world.105

70  The philosophy of the human soul The soul and body demonstrate the manifestation of two aspects of a single existent, from the lowest stage of the body to the highest stage of the spirit. In the realm of Forms, it exists immaterially, and in this world it is a material entity. To support this idea, Ṣadrā narrates various sayings of the Shi‘a Imams. The following, attributed to Ja‘far al-Ṣādiq, is apparently Ṣadrā’s favourite: God created us [i.e., the Imams] from the light of His Majesty and Grandeur. Then He fashioned our created form from the clay concealed underneath the divine Throne, and caused that light to dwell therein. So we were all men of light; and He created the spirits of our followers from our clay.106 Before coming to this world, the purely intelligible souls exist in the realm of pure intelligence, which is called ‘the realm of effacement’ (al-‘ālam al-maḥw) or ‘the realm of reality’ (al-‘ālam al-ḥaqīqa). The soul in that highest realm has as yet no individuation. The Arabic term maḥw means ‘disappearance’ or ‘annihilation’, and the realm of maḥw is the realm of unity. It is also called ‘reality’ because it is the real existence, and the lower realms, whose existence is mixed with nonexistence (limitation), are as if non-existent in the ultimate sense. In the ‘ālam al-maḥw, all souls exist in one united and indivisible existent. In this immaterial realm, the soul has no individuality, but by descending to the material realm, it earns its particular individuation. In his Tafsir al-Qur’an, Ṣadrā says, ‘The things in their reality are united and are immaterial, but in their individuality they need matter through which multiplicity comes into existence.’107 By coming from the realm of unity to the material realm, the human soul begins its initial, descending journey of existentiation and passes through three successive stations until it becomes manifest as an individual human being. Then it begins another movement, which is its ascending journey towards its spiritual or intellective perfection. In this ascending journey, the human soul has the potential to return again, in a fully perfected state, to the realm of Divine Unity.108 From an ontological perspective, however, within the vertically descending order (of the divine creative self-manifestation), the existence of the lower and weaker realms is fully included in that of the higher and more intense ones. To demonstrate the existence of all perfection at the highest stage of the soul’s spiritual journey, while the soul is still ‘one’ and a ‘simple entity’ (ḥaqīqatun baṣīta), Mullā Ṣadrā establishes the central theme of his philosophy: ‘The simple and indivisible reality is all things’ (al-basīt al-ḥaqīqa kull al-ashyā’). This principle is in fact a philosophical explanation for the relationship of ‘the One and the many’ that draws upon the simplicity of the principal One in the Enneads.109 This doctrine is vital for resolving many theological problems concerning the nature of God in relation to creatures, as well as psychological problems concerning the nature of the soul and its relation to the faculties, which we will elaborate in the forthcoming section. The wisdom for the descent of the individual souls to this world is to ‘experience all levels of existence’. This enables individual souls to perfect their existence even more than the angels, who experience only the immaterial realms.

The philosophy of the human soul  71 The souls stay for a time in the material world and acquire certain habits and states that may or may not be in harmony with their earlier habitation. As this world occupies the souls and veils them from the higher worlds, the habits they acquire may become veils that turn their attention to the material world and cause them to forget God. Of course, the opposite can happen too, and their habits may cause them to turn away from the ornaments of this world, so that they limit their attachment to bare necessities, while their attention is directed towards the other world. In Ṣadrā’s mystical perspective, therefore, worldly life with all its personal and social involvements is ‘one stage of the spiritual journey’ (manzilun min al-manāzil al-rūḥānī) for the human soul in the descending arc to the realm of multiplicity, before the ascending arc towards the permanent abode in the realm of the Divine: This world is one abode of many for the wayfarers towards the Divine. The (physical) body acts as a steed for the soul on its spiritual journey. In order to fulfil its task, a steed needs food, water, care, and so forth; therefore the human body also needs material attention to remain healthy and strong, otherwise it will not be able to help the soul accomplish its journey toward its original abode. All this will not come to pass unless humanity has an organised social order and a just law.110 After the human soul has experienced this material level of existence and successfully accomplished its journey, its knowledge and rank become much greater than what it was whilst in the material world and even in the realm of pre-existence. It is able to observe imaginal lights, secrets, angels and the forms of purgatorial spirits and to enjoy in an even higher degree all the pleasures it had experienced in the world of matter, such as food, drink, clothes, sexuality and all that can be heard and seen. In the process of perfecting the human soul in the ascending arc, each higher level contains the properties and perfections of all the lower levels; therefore, the soul that rises above the material world and actualises its human potentialities is much more perfect and comprehensive than when it was descending to this world, as well as more perfect than the angels, since they do not experience all the levels of existence. The purely immaterial entities (huwiyyāt al-mujarrada) in the corresponding worlds possess their own levels of perfection and have no connection to the lower levels. However, the human being has two existential aspects, the earthly and the heavenly, and thus is situated between the two forces of bodily desire and reason. If he follows his reason, he will achieve the realm of the malakūt and be superior to the purely material entities, but if he follows his bodily desires, without the control of the higher level of reason, he will then sink to the lowest depths and be lower than the animals. From another angle, man can either achieve the highest level of divinity or the utmost form of satanic influence because he is ‘a comprehensive being’ that possesses the whole range of existential stations.111 The crucial point here is the relation between the material and immaterial aspects of the human entity. The doctrine of the gradation of existence (tashkīk

72  The philosophy of the human soul al-wujūd) and substantial change (ḥarakat al-jawharī) just discussed was used by Ṣadrā to explain how there must be a shared concept of Being for the term to specify both Necessary Being and contingents, i.e., immaterial and material existents alike.112 The foregoing explanation of the descent of the human soul to this world and its substantial perfection in the upward journey may illustrate for us one the most important premises of Ṣadrā’s politics. Neither he nor readers of his philosophy, both in Persian and English, had ever to my knowledge formulated quite the same approach to these principles such as Ṣadrā has here, where the soul and body are not dichotomous substances. The human body is a stage that the soul manifests in this world and, through substantial change and the experience of life in the world, gradually returns once more to its spiritual abode. Having considered such implications for his philosophy, whereby there is a bridge between worldly affairs, socio-political involvement and spirituality, we may introduce here another ontological principle. The identical ontological principle is applied to his political philosophy in order to remove the dichotomy between the two realms of spirit and matter; the same immaterial aspect represents ‘unity’, and the material aspect of existence represents ‘multiplicity’. From a mystical perspective, worldly life and material involvement are concomitant with multiplicity and are considered a distraction from the realm of Unity and God. Therefore, unity and multiplicity appear as two essentially contradictory realms of existence, where one negates the other. However, in Ṣadrā’s metaphysics they are not two opposing realities, neither ontologically nor as regards the human soul, but rather multiplicity is the various expressions of a single substance existing at a lower level, without which Unity would be impossible. In Ṣadrā’s view, the spiritual wayfarer has to experience all aspects of multiplicity in the material realm. This requires any individual who is concerned with his ultimate happiness to involve himself in earthly life with all its difficulties and encounters because this world is but ‘one stage of the spiritual journey’ (manzilun min al-manāzil al-rūḥānī) of the human soul in the ascending arc to final Unity in the realm of the Divine. The following section elaborates in more detail the role of this principle in Ṣadrā’s politics.

Unity in multiplicity: an ontological station of the perfect human soul A key concept in Mullā Ṣadrā’s metaphysics is the theory of ‘unity in multiplicity’ (waḥdat fī al-kathra), which he uses to tackles the age-old question of the One and the many: how can we reconcile a vision of unity in existence with our everyday, phenomenal experience of plurality and multiplicity in the quest for a singular explanation of reality? An analysis of the critical concept of existence and its gradational reality (tashkīk) helps Ṣadrā explain his position regarding the most well-known referents of the philosophical problem of the One and the many, i.e., the problems of the relationship of God and the world, the soul–body duality, the soul’s relation to its various faculties, and knowledge

The philosophy of the human soul  73 of God.113 However, political implications are also introduced in the present analysis of this Sadrian principle, which may have been overlooked by students of his philosophy. Like other mystics, Ṣadrā urges people to meditation, self-purification and spiritual enlightenment. In the introduction of Asfār, he invites readers to seek perfection by distancing themselves from bodily desire and material involvement.114 In his interpretation of Sūrat al-Wāqi‘a, Ṣadrā writes: The perfection of man lies in the perception of universal realities (al-ḥaqā’iq al-kulliyya), a disposition towards divine cognition, transcendence above material sensibilia, and self-purification from the restraints of carnal and ­passionate appetites. This can only be acquired through guidance, teaching, discipline, and the formation of a righteous character.115 This and many similar statements in Ṣadrā’s works are examined here that favour the supposition that – like other mystics – he was merely concerned about spiritual perfection and happiness in the next world, represented by Unity and the domain of the One. In this section, after a brief discussion of the metaphysical background of his doctrine of ‘unity in multiplicity’, we will explain how this principle can be used to reconcile Ṣadrā’s view on spirituality and asceticism with politics and the multiple involvements of the world. The apparent conflict between unity and multiplicity was a major theme in Neoplatonism, especially in the work of Proclus.116 In Islamic Neoplatonism, Suhrawardī was the first Muslim philosopher to use the concept of light (nūr) in the discussion of the relationship between unity and multiplicity. Suhrawardī’s Neoplatonic solution to the problem is to propose a scalar hierarchy of reality, a vision of degrees of the singular reality of light.117 Mullā Ṣadrā supports this Neoplatonic position and challenges Ibn Sīnā and his followers because Ibn Sīnā rejected a gradation of existence and established the whole of his philosophy upon the distinct existents. According to this view, the concept of existence in the contingent (mumkināt) beings and between contingent beings and the necessary being (wājib) is a shared concept only in mind.118 Based on his divisions of being, in his arguments for the proof of the existence of God, Ibn Sīnā proceeds to prove that the notion of purely contingent beings with no necessary being leads to an infinite regression, which would be ­impossible to justify.119 In contrast, Mullā Ṣadrā’s argument starts with the concept of the existent and the question of whether it is quiddity or existence that is beyond the rational mind and extra-mental (aṣīl), where quiddity is conceptually ­derivative (i‘tibārī). His next step is to prove that existence is real, not quiddity. In a third stage he asserts that the reality of existence is a ‘single reality’ and that whatever exists in multiples or variances is therefore among the manifestations of different states of this single reality: this means that whatever exists is the reality of pure existence120 and that the manifold things are not secondary to existence itself.121 Ṣadrā mentions that the reality of Being, which is both real and unique, is equal to and the same as essential necessity and excludes non-existence. From

74  The philosophy of the human soul this perspective, the world appears as the manifestation of existence like a ray whose existence in fact belongs to the sun. The existence of contingent being is not a division of existence to be related (wujūd al-rābiṭī) to necessary existence as Ibn Sīnā claimed; rather, the contingent is relation itself, or ‘copulative existence’ (wujūd al-rabṭī).122 Having said this, it becomes clear that Mullā Ṣadrā’s essential philosophical foundation is the reality of being. He then investigates the nature of contingent beings. On the basis of the theory of the gradational reality (tashkīk) of existence, Ṣadrā does not believe that contingent beings belong to a second stage of creation; rather, they are only particular ‘modes of existence’ (sh’ūnāt al-wujūd). Therefore, quiddity is not something that exists in itself but a refraction or contraction of existence as one of the various manifestations of God. Although the different existents are not at the same level as the Existence of God, His Existence is still present at each stage of manifestation.123 The Reality was unveiled and the sun of Truth rose, and it came to light that what is called existence is nothing but a mode of the modes of that Everlasting One and a ray of the Light of lights (Nūr al-anwār).124 And in his Mafātīh al-Ghayb, he emphasises that: In the world of Being, there is nothing save His Ipseity, and possible things are rays of His Light and drops of His Ocean of Existence. Thus there is nothing in the world of existence but Him.125 Following the distinctive perspectives and claims of centuries of earlier Sufis and mystics,126 Ṣadrā explains how the accomplished spiritual ‘knower’ (‘ārif  ) can discern the reality of existence and its absoluteness at a glance, while at the next instant (or even simultaneously) he can see the various different things; he sees immediately the Reality behind the veil of dissimilar things and realises that It is the ‘pure existence’ (al-wujūd al-maḥḍ) and the ‘simple (non-composite) identity’ (al-huwiyyat al-basīṭa) that bears no trace of multiplicity (kathra). The reality of existence is in this sense ‘One’ (wāḥid) with ‘Absolute Unicity’ and, properly speaking, is even free from our subsequent mental categorisations, such as ‘absoluteness’ (iṭlāq) and ‘determination’ (taqyīd).127 This one reality encompasses all levels of manifestation and the determinate ‘signs’ in existence, while nevertheless it is not identifiable with any one of these levels or signs (basīṭ al-wujūd/al-ḥaqiqa kull al-ashyā’ wa laysa bi sha’in minhā);128 or as Ṣadrā expresses this fundamental insight in another, more accessible text: Thus it is obvious that anything which is lacking in an existential part is not absolutely the simplest truth. Therefore, its contra positive is correct, if we say that al-basīṭ al-ḥaqīqa is denied any parts, and what is not denied any parts is not the simplest truth. Rather, it is a compound, owing to the two aspects of negation and affirmation [lack and possession].129

The philosophy of the human soul  75 Ṣadrā’s argument here depends on the notion that ultimate ontological ‘simplicity’ (bisāṭat) means the lack of parts. Because the whole of a particular thing is in need of its parts, which set limits to it, that which lacks parts is also lacking in limitation. Accordingly, the simplest reality necessarily comprises the entirety of existence as a limitless reality. The absence of limits in this one simple essence indicates its universality, a comprehensiveness of boundless indeterminacy that therefore contains the entirety of existence. The Absolute and Infinite unicity ­cannot be denied any attributes, which means that it is not lacking in any part or quality of existence, and encompasses the properties and perfection of all things in its simple, non-compound existence:130 Any real, [absolutely] simple reality contains the whole of existence. For if that were not the case, it would mean that it involves one part and lacks another. In this way, it can also be considered to be a compound, because the absence of one part does not mean the existence of another; because if that were the case, conceiving the existence of one part would mean conceiving the absence of the other.131 Returning to our discussion on the reconciliation of the stage on the soul’s spiritual path of the union of the soul with its multiple worldly involvements in the fourth journey, as Ṣadrā maintains, I would argue that one can justify this mysticopractical approach by Ṣadrā’s ontological principle of ‘unity in multiplicity’ or ‘one and many’, which is mainly inherited from the common Platonic, Neoplatonic and Suhrawardian solution to the problem of a scalar hierarchy in reality, or of a vision of degrees in a singular reality. According to Ṣadrā, Ibn Sīnā, unlike Suhrawardī, could not resolve this dilemma and therefore could not provide a convincing explanation for crucial philosophical problems such as God’s relationship to the world, the knowledge of God and the soul’s relation to its multiple faculties. By elaborating Ṣadrā’s solution for the soul’s relationship with its faculties and the problem of one and many, we provided another premise for his political philosophy; for the spiritual journey, man’s happiness and perfection lie within the soul’s passing through all levels of existence. Therefore, not only does the spiritual journey not conflict with worldly life and the sojourn amongst other people, but the soul cannot achieve unity as the highest state of perfection without passing through the multiplicity of the corporeal realm because multiplicity is a prerequisite for the perfect state of the unity of the soul. All this may help demonstrate how his political philosophy draws upon his ontology and ‘ilm al-nafs. In the coming discussion, we explain in more detail how Ṣadrā associates the ontological principles of ‘unity in multiplicity’ and the issue of the superiority of ‘unity’ over ‘multiplicity’ with his ‘ilm al-nafs. Having addressed this alignment, we show the underlying implications it has for his political philosophy.

The multiple aspects of unity in the human soul As discussed in the first section of the chapter, for Ṣadrā, a proper understanding of self is the basis of transcendent wisdom and for understanding the many faces

76  The philosophy of the human soul of reality. Self-reflection is then the true seeker’s key to freedom from the veil of ignorance, to move beyond and discern how the metaphor of the macrocosm is integrated with that of the microcosm, which is man. Just as God is an ‘indivisible and pure existence’ (al-wujūd al-maḥḍ/baḥt), so the human soul is an indivisible simple existent (wujūdun basīṭ) possessing many faculties, all of which have differing degrees of excellence within their class. For Ṣadrā, the whole multiplicity of intellectual and bodily faculties is possessed of one essence. Using the same argument as with the existence of the Necessary Existent, in their pre-existence prior to their bodily manifestation on earth, human souls exist in the realm of Divinity in an undifferentiated ‘unificational existence’ (al-wujūd al-jam‘ī), from which they manifest as rays of the Light of the Truth. In other words, the soul exists through the Truth and not through itself, but this existence, after its descent to the human world, must ascend once again to its original abode in the Source. To return to the realm of Divinity (Lāhūt), the individual soul must fulfil its spiritual journey in this world and beyond, until, in the case of perfected souls, it reaches a state in which it has no ‘ego’ (anāniyya). To achieve such a high degree of existence, i.e., the Hidden Unity that is specific to His Necessary Essence (al-ghayb al-waḥdat al-mukhtaṣṣat bi dhātiha-l-wājibiyya), the soul’s upward spiritual path must successively pass through all the ontological states of its preceding ‘descending’ journey into earthly manifestation. When the fully realised human soul has completed all the stages of the ascending journey of return, it will reach the state of ‘annihilation in the divine Essence’ (al-fanā’ fi al-dhāt) and Absolute Unicity (al-Aḥadiyyat al-Muṭlaqa). On the ascending path to Unity, the soul encompasses the existential perfection of all the lower levels within its simple existence. Accordingly, unity and multiplicity do not impede one another. Because of this integration, the perfect man at the station of unity can engage, with multiplicity, people and social affairs in the material world without disrupting one or the other. As part of the spiritual journey of the seeker of Truth, all this is achieved by sincerity of intention (khulūṣ) and the light of faith (nūr al-īmān) that guides the wayfarer to Truth and nearness to God.132 In Ṣadrā’s view, this is the most perfect state attained by the prophets and saints: There is a group of people who stand between the realms of the intelligible and sensible, unity and multiplicity, and God and His Creatures. This people [who have perfected their soul] behave with the others with affection and compassion. They involve in day-by-day affairs like very ordinary people. It is as if they know nothing of God and His celestial realm; and when they are in their place of seclusion (khalwat) with God, it is as if they do not know the people. This spiritual station is the station of the prophets and saints.133 This ability of the prophets or saints to perceive the perceptual forms of the intelligible, imaginal and sensible realities indicates both the perfection of the human state and its attendant cognitive ability, for he sees ‘all things as they are in themselves’. Since the Prophet is the highest and most perfect being in the contingent

The philosophy of the human soul  77 realm, he is the locus through which it is kept in conformity with its Source and through which it returns to its final end. Without prophecy, there would be no intermediary through which the lower realms are maintained in continuity with the highest principle. There would thus be no creation.134 At the human level, it is possible for man to have the knowledge of things that are hidden from the senses and imagination (khayāl). Referencing the capacities of the prophets who have reached the state of immateriality and unity as a prerequisite for reconciling the realms of the spirit and the world, Ṣadrā writes: In this world the doors of the heavenly realm are opened to him and he witnesses the spirits disengaged (mujarrad) from the covering of these receptacles . . . [i.e.,] the sheer realities disengaged from the garb of images, which are the various forms of the nocturnal ascension which the prominent masters of the [spiritual] path have witnessed.135 This idea refers to his Islamic belief about the divine source of the human spirit, inspired by the Qur’anic verse: ‘So I blew into him from my Spirit’ (15:29), whereby this rank is attainable by every man in whom the spirit is completely refined, i.e., those who pass beyond the world of sense and imagination and reach the world of the intellect. As the human spirit originates with God, the sanctified soul as an intelligible form contains the meaning of all lower and imperfect states in a simple substance. In this sense, not only in the hierarchy of the natural world does man rank higher than plants and animals but also in meaning and intelligibility. The upper world is a perfect living reality in which everything is contained, since it originates in the perfect primary source, wherein are found every soul and intellect and no lack or need, since all things are filled with richness and life, excelling and gushing forth. The life of all things issues forth from one single source, not as if each were an isolated flow, but all as one single quality in which there is everything.136 Elsewhere, referencing Plato,137 Ṣadrā describes unity as the ultimate goal of multiplicity: The existence of the world of the intellect is the principle of all other beings and their sustainer, active principle, and ultimate goal. Their clear vision is hidden to man because of the excess of their manifestation and our veiling from them due to the distraction of material bodies. We can reasonably point to the unity of this world and the simplicity of everything in it, and the multiplicity of this world [of physical bodies] in view of the number of individuals. It should be known that the luminous Platonic Forms are substances in themselves, and their being is the source of the substances of this world and their quiddities. They are also the realities of these sensate bodies.138 As we discussed in the section on knowledge, the defining characteristic of every human being is his level of knowledge and the quality of his perception, and the

78  The philosophy of the human soul one who perceives clearly is truly-guided and truly human, thereby having the power to guide others. There is a corresponding perfection for each faculty of perception. The highest of these is the perfection of the intellect, at which level the person witnesses the angels near to God. On the basis of the gradation of existence, each station contains those below it. Therefore, whoever achieves the station of the intellect brings together the perfection of all the other stations. Such a one would have the rank of divine vicegerent, with the ability to be leader of mankind.139 He may be a messenger of God, to whom revelation comes and who is supported by miracles.140 The human soul at this stage is pure in its capacity for reflection and has a strong similarity with the ‘Holy Spirit’ (Rūḥ al-Qudus), such that they connect without great effort or reflection (tafakkur).141 This is the most exalted aspect of prophecy because it is that which leads to ‘knowledge of things as they are in themselves’.142 Using Ṣadrā’s language, this is the station of the reconciliation of the two levels of perfection: the intellect and the imaginal, the incorporeal and the corporeal, or unity and multiplicity. Accordingly, all of man’s knowledge ultimately refers to ‘knowledge by presence’. Knowledge is nothing but the presence of the immaterial object known to the immaterial knower. This means that man does not know through the mind but rather through the soul and spirit as the immaterial subject perceiving the known object. The perception of any manifest thing through the senses is in fact the perception of the archetype that it reflects in the soul. One who has ascended to a higher station perceives all things in their principal reality through the soul and the spirit. To realise this mode of knowing, the soul must disengage from matter and ascend towards immateriality while it still resides in its bodily existence. Ascension to [this state] is due to the union of our souls with the exalted substances of the soul, which distinguishes the temporal particulars from the universals as a reflection of perception. So there are universal controlling agents from which the particulars are configured, such that they pour from the intellectual principles upon the tablets of exalted souls as modelled forms by which these souls are affected by their faculties of imagination.143 By this union, the vision and guidance of the soul become sound, and one encounters the things of the hidden world. This comes about in two ways, in the first of which the lower sensations do not distract the soul from the higher perceptions, and the strength of the imagination is such that it witnesses both the manifest and the non-manifest. Amongst the realisations are both pure revelation and weaker ones more akin to visions seen in dreams. The second is the realisation achieved by those whose faculties are weaker but are nonetheless able to achieve union due to their capacity for concentration and the relative weakness of their impediments. Thus the Prophet, who by definition ‘gathers together the perfections of the sensible, imaginal and intellectual worlds within himself’ and has the knowledge of things as they are in themselves, is the ‘true man’, and all the other states of humanity reflect his state. The substantial change of the soul is a process of

The philosophy of the human soul  79 movement towards perfection by a disengagement from bodily affairs rather than of attaining attributes that improve the existence of one’s state or abandoning superadditions. The veils that hide the true state of humanity are removed as the perceiver disengages from material, sensible form and discerns the higher world of immaterial form where the soul unites with the intellect. When the veils between the soul and the intellect vanish, ‘the realities of the sciences from the mirrors of the tablet of the intellect are disclosed to the tablet of the soul’.144 The prophets are endowed with the most comprehensive state of being, which is that of ‘unity in multiplicity, and multiplicity in unity’. They manifest the perfections of the practical and theoretical knowledge of Unity through which they are connected to the realm of Divinity, even as they move amongst people. It is as if the Prophet lives always with one eye on creation and the other on the Creator. Ṣadrā describes this state as follows: There are a group of learned people (‘ulamā) who have both metaphysical and worldly knowledge. They always stand at the border of the immaterial and sensible realities. By the love of God, they are always with Him while they live amongst the people and assist them with kindness. Whenever they mix with society to serve the people, they give all their attention to them, as if they had no thought of God; and when they worship the Lord, it is as if they do not know the people [have no thought of them]. This is the attitude of the prophets and saints.145 It is therefore significant that, for Ṣadrā, the human soul is a pure and simple (non-compound) reality descended from the realm of the Holy Spirit. Based on the principles of the ‘bodily advent of the soul in this world’, this simple essence manifests in bodily mode, but through substantial change, it gradually manifests signs of immateriality (tajarrud). Its bodily form represents multiplicity, and its tajarrud represents unity. The unity and multiplicity of the human being constitute neither two parts nor two separate stages but rather these two aspects of its existence are no metaphor but are predicated to the human being literally (ḥaml al-ḥaqīqī) at any stage. So when we say, for example, ‘I’ (my soul) judge or think about intellectual issues, and my soul manages my body through eating and other bodily activities, we are referring to ‘one single thing’ which performs both bodily and immaterial tasks: The human being is a single existent possessing many faculties, some of which are intellectual, some psychic, and some physical. All these [faculties] are degrees differing in excellence within their class. But the whole is still one essence.146 Ultimately, the political implication of this ontological principle is that one who could reconcile the bodily and spiritual aspects, or unity and multiplicity, without their interrupting each other, would be able to both practise the spiritual journey and perform worldly duties in service of the people in a perfect manner.

80  The philosophy of the human soul Consummate examples of this reconciliation are the prophets and imams. Such souls at this stage of perfection are independent of instruction, as they receive all knowledge directly through the agency of the intellect, whilst all others may receive from the intellect only through the prophets and imams. They fulfil the role of the ‘perfect human’ and the ‘all-comprehensive’ being. We will explain more about such people in Chapter  7, where we discuss Ṣadrā’s fundamental political theme, i.e., the political authority of saints in our life today in the absence of the impeccable Imams.

The central role of substantial perfection in Ṣadrā’s politics In the foregoing discussion, we implemented Ṣadrā’s ontological principle on the unity and multiplicity of the soul in the context of an important psychological doctrine, i.e., ‘the soul in its unity is all [its] faculties (al-nafs fī waḥdatihā kull al-quwā)’. This will be used to explain how, according to Ṣadrā’s philosophy, worldly involvement and day-by-day dealings with social affairs are considered a stage in the soul’s perfection and spiritual purification. According to this doctrine, ‘the soul is a unitary comprehension of all bodily, imaginal and intellectual faculties, and their principle and telos (mabda’uhā wa ghāyatuhā). Every higher faculty has a faculty below it that serves it in aid of substantial development. Some of these faculties are prior to others, and whatever is temporally prior is least in rank and nobility (bi al-rutba wa al-sharaf ).’147 This substantial development and essential perfection (kamāl al-jawhariyya) of the soul, according to Ṣadrā, cannot be explained by the former principles, found in the doctrines of the Peripatetics and Illuminationists, on the existence and the idea of ‘accidental perfection’ of the human soul (kamālāt al-‘araḍiyya). For Ṣadrā, as for Platonists and Illuminationists, spiritual practice (theurgy, riyāḍa) is critical for theosis and reposes in the non-physical realm of existence that is the true home of the man of intellect (insān al-‘aqlānī).148 In the traditions of both Ibn Sīnā and Suhrawardī, the process of attaining union with God or the Active Intellect involves the emulation of two elements of the virtuous life, the perfection of moral insight and practical wisdom, and a cathartic ‘stripping away’ (khal‘) of the body to ‘release’ the rational soul’s pure beatific experience of the higher noetic world. Yet for Mullā Ṣadrā, as will be elaborated in the following discussion, there is a prerequisite element for and in this noble state of man. The human soul has different levels or stations, from its material manifestation to its potential end in a state of spiritual perfection and reunion with its Source. According to Mullā Ṣadrā, the soul first appears in the mode of corporeal substance; it then gradually becomes more and more intensified throughout its life in the world, developing different stages of its natural constitution and social involvement until it subsists by itself and moves from this world to the next, returning to its Lord. Indeed, Mullā Ṣadrā agrees with Fārābī, Ibn Sīnā and their followers to the extent that the human soul (or intellect), needs a material body in order to achieve perfection, but he believes that this requirement of the soul serves not only for

The philosophy of the human soul  81 its perfection but also regarding its contingency (ḥudūth). Hence, we can conclude from this principle that, for Ṣadrā, the individual souls/entities (huwiyyāt al-shakhṣiyya) are contingent, not pre-existent. By contingency he means the soul’s being at the lowest level of existence in a material form. Summarising this in al-Ḥikmat al-‘Arshiyya, he says: Thus, the soul is created in a corporeal (state), but endures in a spiritual (state). The first thing to be generated in its state (of connection with the body) is a corporeal power; next is a natural form; then the sensible soul with all its levels; then the cogitative and recollective state; and then the intellectual soul.149 The substantial motion (ḥarakat al-jawharī) of the human soul cannot pass to the higher levels of existence until it attains ‘all the necessary preceding lower stages’. Accordingly, based on his ontological theory of the modulation of existence (tashkīk al-wujūd), every reality that exists at a lower level exists at the higher levels in a more refined manner. Thus it is in those higher levels that the individual soul achieves its highest form as a true unity, containing in that process of actualisation all the lower faculties and forms within its simple nature. At the lowest level, the components of the human body, by virtue of their coming together and being harmonised through divine emanation, become capable of accepting life. The first thing given by God is the basic bodily form, which protects the corporeal existence of the soul and the functional composition of the body’s humours. The initial stage of the embryo is that of the vegetal soul, whose task is to gather nutrition for the body to ensure its growth. As the basic bodily composition develops, becoming increasingly harmonised and complex, higher aspects appear. When its composition has further developed, the soul approaches a purer domain and is ready to move on to a higher level, i.e., the stage of animality, in which it possesses sense perception and some basic voluntary movement.150 Relating this conception of human development more specifically to the modulation of the soul’s existence, Mullā Ṣadrā says that the substance of the human sperm is originally an actual plant but is potentially an animal once the embryo is capable of sensation and motion. This specific vegetal state differs from that of other species of plant, and since the animal potentiality is that of a human being, the embryo differs from that of other animals. At birth, it has developed into the actual human animal (bashar) and is potentially more fully human. Finally, at the age of adolescence, the individual soul is actually human and has the potential to become either an angel or a disciple of the Devil.151 Mullā Ṣadrā attempts in different places to give us a clearer picture of this passage through which the human soul passes from one stage to another. In his al-‘Arshiyya, he summarises: The human soul has many levels and stations. . . . [A]t the first, in its state of connection (with the body), it is a corporeal substance. Then it gradually becomes more and more intensified and developed through the different stages of its natural constitution until it subsists by itself and moves from this to the other world, so we may heed the words: Return unto thy Lord (89:28).152

82  The philosophy of the human soul The substantial becoming of the soul and the process of actualisation occur within its simple nature because ‘the soul in its unity is all [its] faculties.’ In this doctrine, Ṣadrā mostly takes inspiration from ancient Greek philosophers, particularly Proclus,153 and the Muslim Neoplatonic thinker Suhrawardī,154 but he develops it within the framework of his philosophy of the human soul, especially in his original doctrine of the ‘bodily advent of the soul’. Therefore, in his discussion he mostly challenges the Peripatetic who divides the soul into separate parts: that which perceives sensibilia and that which perceives intelligibilia. For Ṣadrā, such a division is unacceptable because the human soul is united and self-existent throughout the different stages of a man’s life, and this unity – and in fact, for Ṣadrā, the soul’s ‘nobility’ – is rooted in the gradational nature of existence, from the lowest bodily existence to the highest intellectual state. The soul’s perfection lies in the completion of its essence and the attainment of its fullest potentiality. In the case of man, it is the actualisation of his rational faculty (nātiqiyya) by adorning it with knowledge and applying it to govern his animal nature (ḥaywāniyya). Thus, the process of the soul towards its perfection is an ascent from the condition of animality to the fulness of humanity, or rather from potentiality to the actualisation of the intellectual faculty. The experiment that Ibn Sīnā devises, conceiving of a person suspended in air in total isolation from any physical or sensory experience, proves that for him the soul is an independent substance with intelligent faculties, prior to any involvement with the world and afterwards when the corporeal organs that service the soul perish.155 This means that for Ibn Sīnā the nobility of the human soul lies in its spiritual and intellectual aspects. In many places he maintains this point explicitly: Every kind of knowledge that reaches the soul and the happiness that appears in it are all the fruit of the management of the intellect. The purpose of the intellect is to promote happiness in the soul by means of knowledge, and the purpose of the (rational) soul (nafs) is, along with the (intellect’s) help, to separate intelligibles (ma‘qūlāt) from among sensibles (maḥsūsāt) and convey them to the intellect. On the contrary, perfection, nobility, and greatness lie in intelligibles. . . . The nobility of the soul, thus, lies in two things, the rational soul and the intellect. Neither of these two is from the world of corporeal bodies (ajsām); rather they are from the higher world. They are governors of the body not its residents. That which the rational soul affirms with the pen of knowledge on the tablet of the intellect concerning aspects of truth and abstract form, which is rationality, is shared with the angels.156 Mullā Ṣadrā accepts most of the familiar Peripatetic schema of the divisions of the human faculties; however, for him, the individual human soul has just one identity throughout its different stages and manifestations (mazāhir), starting from the lowest level to that of the intellective perfection that few attain.157 This developmental transformation is assisted by the entire soul’s faculties, which are aptly provided to fulfil their own tasks.

The philosophy of the human soul  83 The human soul has come down from the spiritual realm as a ‘holy essence’ (aljawhar al-qudsī). The soul-in-itself is already a rational entity when it descends from its original abode and keeps its original nature (i.e., of simplicity and unity) whilst it is at the same time manifest in all its different powers and material faculties. Based on Ṣadrā’s ontological principle that ‘the simple (non-compound) reality is all things’,158 the soul as a simple and indivisible reality is the most perfect existence, so at the level of man’s intellect, it comprises all the qualifications and perfections of all the lower levels: The soul is all [its] faculties (al-nafs kull al-quwā). The soul is a unitary comprehension of them [the faculties] and their principle and telos (mabda’uhā wa ghāyātuhā).159 He later goes on to explain how the simple reality of the soul encompasses various and multiple faculties: This rational essence (al-jawhar al-‘aqliyya), that is, the human soul, when returning to its main abode encompasses all of the vegetal powers, from growth, nutrition and reproduction. It also comprises the animal faculties from the lowest, i.e., the imagination, to the highest, i.e., of estimation and memory. As Aristotle says,160 the human soul is composed of three faculties, but not by ordinary composition [i.e., of separate ‘parts’], because the essence of the human soul is simple, and a simple reality is the most perfect reality [whose sensory perfections do not perish when it achieves rational perfection].161 The existence of the soul, which is simple, is something prior to its manifestation in all the faculties, and this original substance and existence must be different from all that proceeds from it. The ‘simple existence’ in itself is not mixed with the subsequent manifestation of the faculties but is manifested in them in different ways:162 The various faculties in their different multiplicities exist by a simple existence in the human soul. It is a subtle (laṭīf ) existence, the same subtleness (liṭāfa) as that of the soul [itself ]. When the soul descends from its [original, immaterial] state to the level of physical sense, then it will be as something that senses (hāssa); and when it descends to the level of imagination, then it will act as the imaginative faculty. . . . Ibn Sīnā and his followers, who are unable to understand the existential principles [of the principality and gradation of existence], cannot solve these sorts of delicate psychological issues.163 According to Ṣadrā, the discussion here does not revolve around the analogy or material distinction between separate ‘parts’ and ‘a whole’ which serves as a composite. Instead, Ṣadrā maintains that the multiplicity existing in the individual human soul actually manifests a single, simple existence, and this unity of the

84  The philosophy of the human soul soul is rooted in the gradational nature of existence. As previously explained, Ibn Sīnā illustrates this relationship with an image of two faces, one looking inward at the body and influenced by bodily demands, the other turned upward towards the higher intelligible principles. As he says: ‘[T]he soul must always be ready to receive from what is there in the Higher Realm and to be influenced by it.’164 Ṣadrā found this division unacceptable. According to him, a simple unitary reality can also be a plurality, in a sense that implies unity-in-multiplicity and multiplicity-in-unity (waḥdatuhā fī kathratihā wa kathratuhā fī waḥdatihā).165 He says elsewhere that the faculties are the ‘modes’ (shu’ūn) or ‘manifestations’ (mazāhir) of the soul.166 The faculties’ activities and creations at the lower level are characterised by multiplicity. However, at a higher level, which is the level of the soul, they manifest a single reality. Ṣadrā believed that two problems prevented Ibn Sīnā and other earlier philosophers from achieving this insight. First, Ibn Sīnā did not quite fathom and appreciate gradational existence (tashkīk al-wujūd) and consequently gradational reality in a simple entity, since he believed in rigidly distinguished realities of existence (haqā’iq al-mutabāyinat al-wujūd), in contrast to Ṣadrā’s notion of the gradational reality of unified existence. Therefore, Ibn Sīnā failed to conceive of different states of reality within a singularity. As a result, he had difficulty attributing both the perfectional, voluntary (morally responsible) acts and lower, nonperfectional acts to the same human soul, since he could not conceive of a way in which the lower activities of the animal and vegetal states could all be manifestations of a single reality at the level of the intellect and that all human activity could, in fact, have a single agent working at different levels of existence.167 Secondly, Ṣadrā maintains that Ibn Sīnā did not accept the principle of substantial motion (al-ḥarakat fi al-jawhar),168 which would have allowed him to hold that, from the level of the acquired intellect, the individual human soul achieves a new order of existence and emerges as pure intellect. In fact, Ibn Sīnā believed that there is no transformation in the nature of the physical species and that, in his view, everything physical is in itself immobile. For him, there is no inherent power or motion located in the substance of the soul, and, instead, such powers and motions emanate directly from the ‘Giver of Forms’ (i.e., the Active Intellect), and such powers simply prepare the human subject for the reception of these forms.169 Ṣadrā says that it has been very difficult for philosophers to picture the flowing and unfixed existence of the soul, so they would not accept constant change in the essence of the human soul.170 All the accounts given, for example, by Ibn Sīnā171 of the soul as an entity, consist merely of various characteristics belonging to ‘accidental [not essential] attributes’ [not essential] of the soul while it is associated with its earthly body. Ṣadrā states:172 We will explain in the discussion on modulation that difference between ­levels of a singular reality and distinction between their occurrences is due to that reality itself. So the reality of being is of those things attached essentially to determinations and particularisations, and priority and posteriority, and

The philosophy of the human soul  85 necessity and contingency, and perfection and imperfection, not due to something extrinsic to it that is ‘accidental’ to it. Conceiving [this point] requires a noble mind and a subtle nature.173 Ṣadrā asserts that another philosopher who also failed to acknowledge the primacy of existence and substantial transformation was Shihāb al-Din Suhrawardī, who accepted the notion of more perfect and less perfect entities, utilising the notion of light.174 For Suhrawardī, outward and extra-mental reality (in Sadrian language, aṣīl) is the light (nūr) because light is both luminous in itself and the source of the luminosity (zuḥūr) of other things (al-nūr zāhirun bi dhātihā wa muzhirun li ghayrihī).175 Ṣadrā did not reject this famous Neoplatonic metaphor of light because significantly for him, light is coextensive with existence. He says: One of the most significant co-extensions of existence that is so very close to it is light (nūr). Both terms are ‘defined’ in the same way: know that what is meant by light is that which is manifest (zuḥūr) in itself and manifested in others (zāhirun bi dhātihi wa muzhirun li ghayrihi) and is coextensive (musāwiq) and synonymous with existence. Rather light is itself a simple reality like existence with divisions, such as Necessary and all else, intelligible, psychic and corporeal light.176 In addition to its affirmation, existence also has the luminosity of light, so Ṣadrā sometime uses the term ‘the luminous reality of existence’ (al-ḥaqīqat al-nūriyyat al-wujūdiyya). Nevertheless, for him, the outwardness of manifestations that appear to the extra-mental (zuḥūr) primarily pertains to the existence and the light-like substance of their apparently other ‘thing-ness’/quiddity, presented to the extra-mental by existence in various modes. Suhrawardī’s theory on the primacy of light signals a shift in the understanding of the very nature of the essence of things. Everything partakes in and of light in an indefinite manner.177 The degree or intensity of the light of the essences makes them distinct from one another, although they all share in the same light whose origin remains with the Light of Lights.178 And this was exactly the point that Ṣadrā could not agree with, i.e., a gradation of the essence of light (tashkīk fī al-māhiyyāt al-nūr). For him, quiddity cannot undergo gradation (tashkīk) because the essences/quiddities are the principle of multiplicity (mathār al-kathra), and each quiddity differs in essence from other essences by genus, species or accident. As long as we do not speak of existence as the principle of unity, we cannot explain the idea of weakness and intensity, whether we apply this to the essence of light or to any other essence: It is only the nature of existence which accepts weakness and intensity in its simple reality. There is no difference between individuals by an essential differential distinction or by an accidental type. . . . The individual existents only differ by intensity and weakness (al-shidda wa al-ḍa‘f ), priority and posteriority, nobility and baseness (al-sharaf wa al-khissa). Universal concepts

86  The philosophy of the human soul whose referents [in the extra-mental] are called quiddities, differ [one from another] in essence by genus or species or accident.179 At this point and against Illuminationists, Ṣadrā says that, with the theory of light and the principle of the gradation of quiddity, we cannot explain the substantial perfection of the human soul, beginning with its bodily existence and extending to the highest levels of intellect. It is only existence that runs through the fabric and structure of reality.180 The unity of graded reality means that there is a continuum change in bodily essence (as a referent of existence in this world) that does not suffer any gaps in being,181 as if reality comprises monadic vortices.182 Each reality in its manifestation intensifies to the point of revealing infinite monads.183 Vortices as complexes of processes replace substances as units of reality and account for the phenomenal changes and oppositions that we experience. An existent is a vortex, a structure of events that is an act of being. To summarise our foregoing discussion, we could draw another picture of his political philosophy based on a few concepts in Ṣadrā’s philosophy. The human being passes to higher levels of existence through substantial motion (ḥarakat al-jawharī) and subsumes the necessary preceding lower stages. This conception of human development is related to modulations of the soul’s existence. In addition to the concepts of substantial motion and the gradation of existence, including the concept of the primacy of existence, there is another concept without which we cannot expose the key premise of Ṣadrā’s narrative on politics and which is that ‘the soul in its unity is all [its] faculties’. According to this theory, the ‘nobility’ of the soul consists not only in its spiritual and intellectual aspects, in isolation from any physical or sensory experience, as Ibn Sīnā and Suhrawardī explicitly mentioned, but rather its true nobility lies in the completion of its essence and the attainment of its fullest potentiality, from the lowest bodily form to the highest intellectual states. Therefore, those who can reconcile the bodily and spiritual aspects, or unity and multiplicity, without interruption between them, would be able to practise the spiritual journey whilst simultaneously involved in worldly affairs. In fact the performance of worldly duties and service to people are prerequisites for spiritual and intellectual practices. As Ṣadrā said, the previously mentioned concepts were not fully fathomed by Ibn Sīnā and Suhrawardī, and the framework of their philosophy is incomplete without this distinctive political application.

Summary and conclusion In his chapter on the human soul (‘ilm al-nafs), Ṣadrā shows great concern with man’s happiness, both in this world and the next. The importance of spirituality and awareness of the ‘self’ as the basis of any real happiness is a focus of both religion and philosophy from ancient Greece to the Peripatetics and Illuminationists, but for Ṣadrā, what is more important than awareness of the ‘self’ is the realisation of the ‘reality of existence qua existence’ (ḥaqīqat al-wujūd bi mā huwa al-wujūd). Very similar to Heidegger’s critique of the traditional concepts

The philosophy of the human soul  87 of epistemology,184 Ṣadrā believed that from the beginning of Greek philosophy until his time, pure metaphysics contributed to the oblivion of the reality of existence qua existence, because for him, ignorance of the ‘question of being’ (mas’alat al-wujūd) in man necessarily leads to ignorance of the foundations of all knowledge and its principles, since it is through being as such that all things are known. It is the a priori and most known of all concepts. If one is ignorant of it, one is ignorant of all that follows, but knowledge of it can be achieved only through inner revelation and direct experience (bi al-kashf wa al-shuhūd).185 The only way to overcome this forgetfulness is to begin to ‘intuit’ the nature of the self. A proper understanding of the self comes about with spiritual practice (rīyāḍa) and ‘knowledge of presence of the soul’ (ḥuḍūr al-nafs lil nafs), through which one realises one’s personal existence and situation in the universe in relation to the Creator. According to Mullā Ṣadrā, the spiritual practices of the four journeys lead the traveller on the path to knowledge, and for him, as we explained in this chapter, this knowledge is ‘realisation’. For Ṣadrā, realisation means that the human soul becomes more perfect, because it is an existential promotion, a becoming, an ascent from a lower level of being to a higher. Ṣadrā invests his gradational ontology with an axiological dimension, in that the language of the ontological states is saturated with qualitative terminology. An ontologically higher substance is not only more in terms of its existential properties but is more perfect, real, reliable and worthier of consideration, and therefore higher existents are more true, since they are closer to truth and consequently to ‘power’ and ‘authority’. A peculiar aspect of Ṣadrā’s gradational ontology and its application to knowledge is what is called ‘axiarchism’, i.e., the view that the world is grounded in value and that the reality of being can be explained primarily in valuational terms.186 This new understanding of the relationship of spirituality, knowledge and power requires an understanding of Ṣadrā’s other doctrines, such as that the human soul is ‘bodily in its advent and spiritual in its survival’, ‘the soul in its unity is all [its] faculties’, and the ‘substantial perfection of the human soul’, all of which we addressed in this chapter for the first time within the framework of his metaphysics and ontology. We also clarified how the unique characteristic of Ṣadrā’s politics requires a new understanding of Islamic mysticism because in his politics, human perfection does not rely only on intellectual perfection, as his predecessors believed. Rather, it consists in the perfection of all levels of existence, from the bodily (this-worldly) to the imaginal, and from the imaginal to the intellectual. The nobility of man involves achieving the state of ‘unity in multiplicity’, which involves the intellectual perfection of the ‘comprehensive soul’, together with gaining experience and perfection in the material world, where one’s character is formed by day-to-day personal and social life. In fact, intellectual perfection would be not be possible without bodily excellence and success. This interpretation suggests a new perspective on mysticism that is counter to the asceticism of the false Sufis who do not believe in the confluence of body and spirit and who practise self-denial through renunciation of the physical and remain aloof from any social and political involvement.

88  The philosophy of the human soul

Notes 1 For Aristotle’s view on categories of science and their relation to politics, see Fred D. Miller (1995). For a comparative study of the positions of Ṣadrā and Aristotle on the philosophy of the human soul, see R. Akbarīyān and A. Ghaffāī (1388: KhNS, no. 56: 4–170). 2 For a few important instances where Ṣadrā attempts to integrate the ideas of Suhrawardī and Ibn al-‘Arabī into his own vast synthesis, see H. Nasr (1997b: 19, 28, 47, 81). 3 See Asfār (IX, 108); Asfār (II, 31). See also Muhammad Abd al-Haq (1970: JIRI , vol. IX, 953). 4 Islamic Neoplatonists emphasise a moral life and self-purification as the means to understanding divine knowledge. See G. Fowden (1986: 132). They also promote the idea of the inculcation of ‘holiness’, separation of the soul from the cage of the body, and the realisation of the divine spark within the soul. Philosophy is thus more than noesis (both discursive and non-discursive) and involves spiritual practice. See D. ­Sedley (1999: 309–328). For the Platonic background of these ideas, see J.M. Armstrong (2004: OSAP, 26: 171–183). 5 Asfār (IX: 108). Probably more than from Neoplatonism, in this matter Ṣadrā takes his inspiration from the Qur’an. See his mystical interpretation of the Qur’anic verse ‘If you obey and practice [spirituality], He will grant you Furqān [a criterion to judge between right and wrong]’ (8:29), Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: I, 507; III: 394; V: 420). 6 See Suhrawardī (1952: Opera II, 110); M. Amin Razavi (1997: 103–107). 7 See his Futūḥāt al-Makkiyya (III, 448.7) in W. Chittick (2003: 70–72). 8 See Asfār (I, 83; IV, 54, 71). 9 For example, in his Asfār, he says: ‘During the periods of my retreat and spiritual exercises, I intuited the reality of myself through knowledge by presence, and [I realised] that by intellectual endeavours and exercises, I could find the origin and ultimate goal of the soul. Then, by virtue of this intuition, I found the reality of my Creator and His glorious creations, and could familiarise myself with the eternal world.’ (I: Introduction, 7.). There is a philosophical explanation of this matter in A. Javādī Āmulī (1417: 37). 10 Ṣadrā (1411a: V, 346). 11 Asfār (VIII, 224). 12 Asfār (IX, 278, 318). See also M.B. Majlisī (1374 Sh: II, 32). 13 Asfār (I, 266, 307–311). 14 According to Mullā Ṣadrā, all human knowledge in the end refers to ‘knowledge by presence’. He outlines his demonstration of this theory at the end of his chapter on mental existence. See Asfār (I, 308–309). His presentation of this innovative epistemological theory involves the transformation of many traditional Suhrawardian and Avicennan philosophical principles. See I. Kalin (2010: chapter 3); M. Amin Razavi (2003: 91–98). 15 To compare the views of Ṣadrā and Suhrawardī on this subject, see Ṣadrā (1313: 378); Ibn ‘Arabī (n.d.: II, 219); Suhrawardī (1945: 112–113). 16 See Ṣadrā (1411a: VI, 206; VII, 238, 389). On ascetic practice (riyāḍa) and philosophy, see Suhrawardī (1999: 162). 17 Ṣadrā quotes Suhrawardī’s famous dream vision of Aristotle, in which the Stagirite tells him to ‘start with yourself’ to understand knowledge. Asfār (III, 450); J. ­Walbridge (2000: 225), cited from Suhrawardī (1945: Talwīḥāt, 70–74). Cf. M. Hāerī Yazdī (1992, 183–189). 18 See Asfār (V, 106; IX, 180, 293, 344); Ṣadrā (1982a: 255). 19 See Abdul al-Wāḥid Tamīmī Āmīdī (1359 Sh/1980: 232). 20 This is narrated in most hadith collections. See M.B. Mjlisī (1374 Sh: vol. 61, 99; vol. 59, 293; vol. 70, 72). Ṣadrā refers several times to this and similar hadiths. See Asfār (VI, 302, 377; VII, 21; VIII, 35, 306).

The philosophy of the human soul  89 21 See Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: I, 96; VI, 215; VII, 380). The mechanism of the perfection of the soul when dealing with life in the world will be examined later in this and the next chapter. 22 In his classic book on knowledge in medieval Islam, Franz Rosenthal shows the centrality of the concept of knowledge in major Islamic traditions. Citing from a variety of primary sources, he addresses different definitions of knowledge in Islamic literature. In comparing these definitions, one discovers that Muslim thinkers generally considered knowledge in the light of the true condition of the correspondence between subject and object. See F. Rosenthal (2007: 52–69). 23 Ibn Sīnā (1973: 12). 24 Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 14). 25 Asfār (I, 58). 26 Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 241–243). On this issue in Islamic philosophy with a focus on Mullā Ṣadrā and the Ismā‘īlī thinker Ḥamīd al-dīn Kirmānī, see S. Meisami (2018). On the issue of knowledge/power in modern Western philosophical thought, see M. Foucault (1980: 135–145). 27 Asfār (III, 360). For a detailed examination of the concept of ittiḥād al-‘āqil wa’lma‘qūl in Ṣadrā’s philosophy, see H. Hasanzādeh Āmulī (1362 Sh). 28 Asfār (III, 337). 29 Mullā Ṣadrā (2004: II, 73). 30 Mullā Ṣadrā (2004: II, 562). 31 Asfār (I, 324–325). 32 Gerhard Endress (2012: Sga, 2, 263–279); E. Elliott Calverley (1955: MW, no. 33: 254–246). 33 See Plato (1997: 524–525); Plotinus: Enneads, trans. Armstrong, IV, 399; Richard C. Taylor (2012: MW, no. 102: 3–4; Richard Swinburne (1986); A.R. Badawi (1948/1413: 42). 34 See Hasan Moṣṭafavī (2010: SoP, II, no. 4, 19–29). 35 Aristotle (1941b: II, 412 a 27, 412 b). 36 According to Aristotle, the first perfection (entelechy) refers to the grades of actuality (De Anima II, 1). Soul is the perfection of the enclosed body, its entelechy, the essential form of the living being. Aristotle distinguishes the first perfection from the second by the example of the degree of knowledge; the first is the degree of acquired knowledge, the second is knowledge employed in an actual cognitive act. In the soul, reason is active, at first potentially and then actually, and as the eye is in need of light to make the seen visible, so reason is in need of an activating principle that ‘makes all things’. (See De Anima III: 5.) 37 Fārābī (1353 Sh: 54); Hanna al-Fakhuri and Khalil al-Jurr (1979: II, 420); cf. Mohsen Javādī (2007: SAWITD, vol. 5, 67–77). 38 Fārābī (1362 Sh: 75); F. Rahman (1958: chapter 1, section 1). 39 Ibn Sīnā (1959: 10–11); Shahrām Pazoukī (2007: SAWITD, vol. 5, 163–171). 40 Ibn Sīnā (1981: 215). 41 For Avicenna’s view in De Anima, see Fazlur Rahman (1959: 12). 42 Ibn Sīnā (1983a: 7); Ryan Szpiech (2010: ASPh, vol. 20, no. 2, 185–206). 43 Ibn Sīnā (1992a: 196); Fazlur Rahman (1952: 58). 44 Asfār (III, 458). 45 For a modern theory that integrate the realms of body, mind, soul and spirit with a different approach, and its implication in politics, see Ken Wilber (2001). For a study of Michel Foucault’s theory on reconciling the bodily and the spiritual, in which ­Foucault offers a twofold critique of Christianity by bringing the body and ­sexuality into ­religious practice and exploring a political spirituality of the self, see Jeremy R.Carrette (2000). 46 Asfār (VIII, 9–11). 47 Mullā Ṣadrā (1984: 514).

90  The philosophy of the human soul 48 L.P. Peerwani (2004: 74). 49 Asfār (VIII, 51, 221–226, 310, 375); Mullā Ṣadrā (1984: 553). 50 Ṣadrā explains this in Asfār (VIII, 3–10) as follows: The differentiation between the essence of the soul and the annexed meaning of the soul is the same as the differentiation between the definition of the absolute human being and the bricklayer because, in defining the absolute human being, we do not need to mention the term ‘bricklayer’, whereas in defining the bricklayer, the definition only denotes a particular function, not the bricklayer’s essence and nature. Therefore, the essence of the soul is its true definition, unattached to terms such as ‘body’ or ‘matter’, as these only aid in defining its role or function and do not define its essential nature. 51 Asfār (VIII, 6). 52 Aristotle (1941a: 2.2, 413a32). See Dimitri Gutas (2014: part 1, 3, 80, part 3, 288). 53 Jules L. Janssens (2006: 1–13). 54 Mullā Ṣadrā (1982a: 235). 55 Ṣadrā (1411a: VII, 23). To compare Ṣadrā’s view on this issue with Ibn Sīnā’s, see (1375 Sh: 55, 57); to compare Ṣadrā with Suhrawardī, see G. Ibrāhīmī Dīnānī (1366 Sh: 577); Shihāb al-Din Suhrawardī (1361 Sh: 205). 56 Asfār (VI, 23). See also the related discussion in L.P. Peerwani (2004: 54). 57 Asfār (VIII, 3–10). 58 Asfār (VIII, 6). 59 To examine Ṣadrā’s Pythagorean background on the idea of the nature of all existents and their intrinsic desire to move toward their own telos, see Proclus (1903–6). 60 Asfār (VIII, 3–5). Cf. ‘Abd al-Haq (1970: JIRI, vol. 9: 176). 61 Asfār (I, 290; VIII, 11–12); Mullā Ṣadrā (1984: 408); Mullā Ṣadrā (1976: 330). 62 Asfār (VIII, 333). 63 Ṣadrā thought that an objection could be adduced against Ibn Sīnā for maintaining that the human soul is an immaterial substance, not homogeneous with the body, which is material, yet united with the body. According to Ṣadrā, this is absurd because two separate things, one material and the other immaterial, cannot be united. Being as a relational immaterial concept, not a substantive one, as Ibn Sīnā maintains, cannot solve the problem because the soul, at its birth, is in matter; its soul-ness cannot be construed as a relation as though it had an independent existence of its own and then came into a relationship with matter. See Asfār (III, 458–459). 64 Asfār (VIII, 8, 325–330). 65 Asfār (VIII, 9–11, 88, 299; IX, 38). 66 Asfār (VIII, 249–250). 67 Mullā Ṣadrā (1362 Sh: 51); Asfār (III, 323). For Ibn Sīnā’s view, see Ibn Sīnā (1375 Sh: III, 292–295); for Fārābī’s view, see Abu Nasr Al-Fārābī (1985: 85); for Suhrawardī’s view, see his Opera (1952: I, 68–69). 68 Asfār (VIII, 6–7). 69 Asfār (VIII, 346). 70 Asfār (VIII, 15–16). 71 Mullā Ṣadrā (1984: 152). 72 The Illuminationist root of the doctrine of tashkīk al-wujūd is significant, since the Illuminationist tradition also considers quiddities as universals that undergo intensification, a concept that Ṣadrā then applies to being. See Asfār (I, 441, 443; IV, 270; V, 92). Cf. Suhrawardī (1945: 13, 22). However, Ṣadrā tells us that he is rejecting the Illuminationist position, as gradation (tashkīk) only applies to being, since different intensities of being still permit causality, but if gradation were to occur in quiddity, a quiddity of a different intensity could not be a cause for another. See Asfār (VI, 21, 390); Asfār (I, 427); Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 134–136). 73 Asfār (VIII, 326–327). 74 Asfār (IX, 98–99).

The philosophy of the human soul  91 75 Ibn Sīnā explicitly maintained in his al-Shifā that the human soul is immaterial in its advent and attached to the body for a while. See Ibn Sīnā (1983b: 408–409). See also Fakhr al-Din Rāzi (1990: 390–391). For Ibn Sīnā and his divergence from Fārābī on this issue, see Herbert A. Davidson (1992: 83, 103–114). 76 Asfār (IIII, 330–331). 77 See Fazlur Rahman (1975: 199). 78 Asfār (VIII, 71–72, 220–221). 79 According to various religious beliefs referring to different Qur’anic passages, the human soul is divinely effused into the human body at a certain age. For example, Muslim religious scholars often refer to the following famous verse from the Qur’an to prove their point: ‘wa nafakhtu fihi min rūḥī’ (‘and I  blew into him [Adam] of My Spirit’). See Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: V: 154). For Muslim scholars’ views, see Ibn Muṭahhar al-Ḥillī (1982: 103); Fakhr al-Din Rāzī (1934: 291); Abbās Yazdī (1380 Sh: 171); Hasan Hasanzadeh Āmulī (1361 Sh: 502–503). For a comparative study on the descent and ascent of the human soul, see Abdul Kabir Hussain Solihu (2008: JTPh, vol. 9, no. 1: 151–182). 80 See Mullā Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 229); Mullā Ṣadrā (1984: 221); J.W. Morris (1981: 132). 81 See Asfār (IX, 100–103; VIII, 130–133). 82 Asfār (IV, 14). 83 Asfār (VIII, 390); Rezā Akbarīyān (2002: IJCPM, vol. 3, no. 2: 161–181). 84 Ṣadrā tells us that he had mastered all philosophy that came before him, including that of Greek and other non-Arabīc origin, as well as Ibn Sīnā and Suhrawardī, on this and other crucial issues, and argues against them as if they were his contemporaries. See Asfār (I, 5). 85 Asfār (VIII, 134–135). 86 This common qualification does not mean that all bodily entities have in their actual state the opportunity to reach the highest level of existence, since each existent must pass through certain intervening stages of dynamic transformation. See Mullā Ṣadrā (1379 Sh: 116, 252); Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 223–224). 87 Asfār (VIII, 134–135). 88 The material world is the realm of multiplicity (kathra), and the world of intelligibles is the realm of waḥda. Waḥda is concomitant with simplicity/oneness (bisāṭat), and this means that the species in that world have only one referent (miṣdāq) with no components. See Asfār (I, 272). 89 Asfār (II, 13). 90 For example, Ibn Sīnā, in order to prove his assertion of the immateriality of the human soul, says that ‘a person, under certain suppositions, can affirm his own ego without affirming the existence of his body’ (Avicenna, De Anima, 16). Ibn Sīnā’s insistence on the conception of the human soul as an immaterial substance was probably motivated by religious considerations. 91 Asfār (IX, 147). 92 Asfār (III, 325–326); Zailan Moris (2003: 159); I. Kalin (2010: 159–160); D. Baltzly (2004: OSAP, XXVI, 297–321). 93 J.W. Morris (1981: 148–149). 94 For example, Christian Jambet in his Act of Being says: ‘attachment to the body distracts one from the pursuit of philosophy; the cathartic “escape from the body” is essential for proper inquiry.’ He roots Ṣadrā’s philosophy in its religious context, as a ‘prophetic Platonic philosophy’ in which believers need to make sense of their being and self with a view to their resurrection and future life (2006: 15–16). H. Corbin defines Ṣadrā’s notion of the soul as the ‘subtle spiritual matter’ (mādda rūḥāniyya laṭīfa) that plays a role in his explanation of the resurrection and afterlife of the soul and the body, so his philosophy mirrors the insights of both Plato and Heidegger as a ‘preparation for death’ (H. Corbin 1990: 165–168). In defining ḥikmat al-Islami,

92  The philosophy of the human soul H. Nasr mentions Mullā Ṣadrā’s view where Ṣadrā gives a spiritual exegesis of the Qur’anic verse, Surely We created man of the best stature; then We reduced him to the lowest of the low, save for those who believe and do good works (Quran, 95: 4–6). Nasr explains Ṣadrā’s view on the bodily life of man as follows: ‘In this way [for Ṣadrā], “of the best stature” refers to the spiritual world and the angelic part of the soul, “the lowest of the low” to the material world and the animal part of the soul, “those who believe” to theoretical ḥikma and those who “do good works” to practical ḥikma. Seen in this light, ḥikma in its two aspects of knowledge and action, becomes the means whereby man is saved from his wretched state of the lowest of the low and enabled to regain the angelic state in which he was originally made. Ḥikma is, in his [Ṣadrā’s] view, completely wedded to religion and the spiritual life and is far removed from purely mental activity connected with the rationalistic conception of philosophy that has become prevalent in the West since the post-Renaissance period’ (H. Nasr 1973: SI, no. 37: 57–80, 68). 95 For example, when Ibn Sīnā asserts that the human soul comes into existence simultaneously with the body, he believes that the rational soul is in essence nonmaterial and eternal. In favour of the pre-existence of the human soul, Ibn Sīnā argues that the essential cause (Creator) must necessarily coexist with its effect, i.e., the human soul. Ibn Sīnā (1992a: 224); M.E. Marmura (1984: 172–187, 180). See also A.R. Badawi (1948: 1413, 24); L. Muehlethaler (2012: no. 102: 3–4). 96 See Plotinus’s view of the pre-eternity of the human soul in his Plotini Opera, Tomus II, Enneades IV–V, chapter 9, 177–189 and chapter 3, 199–211. See also Armstrong, A.H. (1966–1988: IV, 2–83). 97 Few verses are considered connected to the belief of the pre-existence of the soul, one of which is mentioned here and concerns God’s taking a solemn oath from all of the children of Adam. Another example is, ‘They question you concerning the Spirit; Say, the Spirit is of the command of my Lord’ (17:85). The majority of both Shi‘ite and Sunni traditions concerning the interpretation of theses verses centre around the process through which God created the clay (ṭīna) from which the substance of all human individuals is derived. For Shi’a traditions, see M.Y. Kulaynī (1988: II, 2–7); for Sunni traditions, see M. Jarīr Ṭabarī (1412: 76).   A hadith coming from the fourth Imam, ‘Ali Zayn al-‘Ābidīn, states: ‘Verily God (‘azza wa jall) created the prophets from the superior nature (ṭīna): both their hearts and their bodies. And He created the hearts of the believers from this superior nature, while He created their bodies from other than this. And He created the unbelievers from the inferior nature, both their hearts and their bodies. Then He mixed the two kinds of nature.’ See M.Y. Kulaynī (1988: II, 2.)   If we understand the nature of the human being, in either its superior or inferior form, to refer to the very worldly existence of man, then it should make perfect sense, from a Sadrian perspective, that the soul as the identity of the man should be made of both dimensions. The individual then represents an especial creature whose soul is integrated with the pure substance of the world of the spirit and materially individuated in this world. 98 Plato (1951: part VI, book X, 341–345); Gerhard Endress (2012: Sga 2, e-open access, 263–279, 268). 99 Asfār (IX, 195). 100 The pre-mortal existence of the human soul for him refers to the belief that each individual human soul existed in the world of Ideals or Forms. Plato (1951: part VI, book X, 344–345); Suhrawardī (1977: II, 7; III, 107); Suhrawardī (1361 Sh: 3). 101 See Ṣadrā’s proofs in favour of the descent (hubūt) of the immaterial soul from the realm of divinity in Asfār (VIII, 354–370; IX, 47); Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 372). 102 Ṣadrā, tr. Parviz Morewedge (1992: 59). For the background to Ṣadrā’s view in Shi‘i traditions, see Maria Dakake (2005: EsExH, 147–166). 103 Asfār (IX, 79).

The philosophy of the human soul  93 104 See Ibn al-‘Arabī (n.d.: I, 157; II, 446). 105 See this mystical language of Mullā Ṣadrā on the human soul and body in Mullā Ṣadrā (1976: 199, 467); Mullā Ṣadrā (1984: 39, 133, 650); Mullā Ṣadrā (1379 Sh: 219). 106 See J.W. Morris (1981: 141). Several of these sayings are also discussed by Ṣadrā in his al-Mashā’ir (59–63). In Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 221), there are also many hadiths on the pre-existence of the human soul. See M.B. Majlisī (1374 Sh: vol. 56: 138, 144; vol. 54: 169, 58). 107 Ṣadrā (1411a: VI, 31). 108 Asfār (IX, 228–229, 194). 109 Armstrong, A.H. (1966–1988: IV, 1.5–15). 110 Mullā Ṣadrā (1984: 57). 111 Asfar (VIII, 135–137, 223, 227); Mullā Ṣadrā (1379 Sh: 91, 177). 112 In a theologico-philosophical context, the principle of the gradation of existence usually is used for a completely different aim. For example, Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūṣī uses it to explain Avicenna’s position on how there must be a shared concept of being for the term to apply to both sensibilia and intelligibilia. Ibn Sīnā (1375 Sh: III, 535–536); Shams Inati (200: 119–120); N. Ṭūṣī (1405: 124). The Shi‘i theologian Ibn Muṭahhar al-Ḥillī (d. 1325) argued pointedly that it was only with such a position that theology could be meaningful; otherwise the contingent merely has the word ‘being’ suffixed to it, and theology would lead to agnosticism (ta‘ṭīl), and we would have to stop considering such concepts as God’s attributes as analogous to the created. See M. Ḥillī (1959: 6). In Asfār (I, 77–78), Mullā Ṣadrā himself uses this principle to attack the Ash‘arite position that denied the analogy between divine and human attributes and that assumed that ‘being’ was a purely homonymous term. For a Sunni position on this issue see, Sa‘d al-Dīn Taftazānī (n.d.: I, 341). For more in English on the ­theological and philosophical implications of tashkīk, see S. Rizvi (2009a). 113 In Asfār he quotes from the tenth mīmar of the Theologia, an extract that exemplifies how the doctrine of a simple reality reconciles monism and pluralism without advocating either of them. The multiplicity of known objects does not entail multiplicity in God. The simple Intellect (that is God) knows all things, since all things are present in God as the ultimate referent of all concepts. See Asfar (VII, 272). Cf. Asfār (VI, 277); A.R. Badawi (1948: 134). 114 Asfār (I, 11–12). 115 Mullā Ṣadrā (1363 Sh: 132). 116 Proclus of Athens was the most authoritative philosopher of late antiquity, and played a crucial role in the transmission of Platonic philosophy from antiquity to the Middle Ages. Out of many fundamental issues he discussed is Plato’s theory of participation (in Sadrian language, ḥuḍūr or ‘presence’), which explains the relation between the intelligible world and the sensible reality it grounds. This theory raised many problems, several of which Plato himself brings up in the first part of his Parmenides. Most pressing was the puzzle of how a Form can be at the same time one and the same and exist as a whole in many participants. See Proclus’ Commentary on Plato’s Paramenides (1987: 131a–b). Proclus, however, applies this principle to explain the most difficult problem facing Neoplatonic metaphysics, namely, how to understand the procession of the manifold from the One. How can the One be wholly without multiplicity, when it must somehow be the cause of any and all multiplicity? The One remains in itself absolutely unparticipatory. According to some scholars, it was Iamblichus who introduced this innovative doctrine, others attribute it to Proclus’ teacher Syrianus. Cf. Armstrong (1966–88: V, 141). 117 Suhrawardī (1952: II, 133). See also M. Amin Razavi (1997: 80–82). 118 Ibn Sīnā (1983b: 370–371). In response to Ibn Sīnā and supporting the position of Suhrawardī, Mullā Ṣadrā maintained that the existence of each thing is not a totally separate form of existence but that all existence is a degree of the light of Being; that

94  The philosophy of the human soul 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126

127

128 129 130

131 132 133 134 135 136 137

138 139 140 141 142

the transcendent unity of Being (waḥdat al-wujūd) is hidden behind the veil of the multiplicity of quiddities and particular forms of existence. See Asfār (VI, 17). Ibn Sīnā (1375 Sh: III, 122–123). Otherwise it would be nonexistence (‘adam), which has no reality in the extra-­mental. The concept of non-existence in the mind exists through mental existence, a lower and limited level of existence. Ṣadrā (1976: 52–53). Asfār (VI, 271–272; II: 291, 368); Ṣadrā (1982a: 223). For further explanation of this very delicate topic, see A. Javādī Āmulī, (1387 Sh: 59, 63, 76). Ṣadrā (1982a: 219). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 50–51). Mullā Ṣadrā (1984: 556). The term wujūd (being) is a noun derived from the root w-j-d, which denotes ‘finding’ and ‘what is found’. See Sayyed Ali Jurjānī (1969: 270); William Chittick (1989: 6). Considering the root of this term, for the mystics, God is the real instance of this term, because it univocally and exclusively applies to Him, and if it is applied to contingents, its usage is then metaphorical. See Sayyed Ḥaydar Āmulī (1367 Sh: 407). For Ṣadrā’s lengthy discussion on this, see Ṣadrā (1982a: 220); (1376 Sh: 46); (1379 Sh: 39); Asfār (II, 334; III, 355; VI, 271, 134). ‘Abd al-Razzāq Kashani (d. 1337), the renowned Shi‘i Sufi and follower of Ibn al-Arabī, describes existence as the finding of Truth and union as the presence of Being. Thus it is a mode of the divine essence that is free of all determination; it is being qua being (al-wujūd al-baḥt). All contingency is in fact privative (ma‘dūm) and only has ‘reality’ attributed to it by virtue of its correlation to ‘the Face of the Truth’ (Wajh al-Ḥaqq). See Kashani (1991: 26–28). Asfār (I, 262). Mullā Ṣadrā (1982a: 5). Mullā Ṣadrā uses this doctrine as part of his own ontological proof for the existence of God, known as the ‘proof of the veracious’ (burhān al-ṣiddiqin). The monism of the doctrine is expressed in the phrase ‘the simple reality is all things’ (basīṭ al-ḥaqiīa kull al-ashyā’): God, the One, is simple and pure Being and thus as such is the totality of existence. Asfār (I, 129; VI, 100). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 47). Asfār (I, 9). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 356). See similar material on this in Ṣadrā (1982a: 284); Asfār (II, 332). Ṣadrā discusses this issue to reconcile earthly and Godly love in the chapter on love (‘ishq), in Asfār (VII, 183–184). The investigation into the relation between human intellectuality and prophecy (nubuwwa) found a special place in Islamic philosophy. We will discuss this in Chapter 6. Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 339). Asfār (III, 340). Ṣadrā says: ‘Concerning this matter, the noble Plato has said that the world is of two kinds: the world of the intellect in which are to be found the intellective Forms (muthul), and the world of sense (ḥiss) in which are to be found the obscurities of sensation,’ in Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 205). Asfār (III, 503–504); Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 156–162). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 480). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 341). Ṣadrā (1976: 120, 358); Asfār (VII, 26). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 23, 344). We will elaborate this issue in Chapter 6, where we discuss the concept of prophecy, and Fārābī has used the term ḥulūl for the unity of the person who attains the highest level of the intellect. He describes this person as of the most perfect rank of humanity, experiencing the most exalted degree of happiness, in

The philosophy of the human soul  95

143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153

154

155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167

which his soul is united with the Active Intellect (ḥalla fi-hi al-‘aql al-fa‘‘āl) or ‘as if it were united to the Active Intellect’ (ka’l muttaḥid bi’l ‘Aql al-Fa‘‘āl.). This station can be achieved only if man perfects his soul with both theoretical and practical knowledge. See Fārābī (1938: 36); R. Walzer (1985: 205). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 347). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 347–348). Mullā Ṣadrā (1984: 33). See a similar statement in Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 355). Asfār (V, 343). Asfār (VIII, 51; VIII, 121, 123). Asfār (I, 22). For Suhrawardī, see H. Ziai and J. Walbridge (1999: 162). J.W. Morris (1981: 132). Mullā Ṣadrā (1379 Sh: 237). Asfār (VIII, 136–137); Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 228–229). J.W. Morris (1981: 131–132). This is a doctrine of Pythagoras (570–495 BCE), which was later developed by Proclus. Like other Neoplatonists, Proclus distinguishes between altogether three socalled vehicles (ochêmata) of the soul. The rational soul is permanently housed in the luminous vehicle, while the non-rational soul is located in the pneumatic vehicle. By being incarnated in a human body, soul, or rather, the vegetative soul, attains a (third) ‘shell-like’ vehicle. Unlike Mullā Ṣadrā, Proclus distinguishes between two kinds of vehicles, one mortal and the other immortal. See E.R. Dodds (1963: 207–210). For more on the views of Greek philosophers on this issue, see Plotinus (1966–1988: IV, 407; V, 43, 123); J.M. Dillon and G.R. Morrow (1987: 1148); C.A. Huffman (2009: 21–44). To demonstrate this also as a feature of Iamblichus’s Pythagorean Neoplatonism, see Allen Diogenes (2007: 14); Georgy Shaw (1995). Suhrawardī’s solution is based on his theory of Light, from which Mullā Ṣadrā is inspired to a great extent. For Suhrawardī, all the faculties of the soul are aspects of the light that shines upon all elements of the body and illuminates the powers of imagination and memory for which it is the source. This light is connected with the body by means of the animal soul (rūḥ al-ḥayawāniyya), the seat of which is in the liver, and leaves the body for its original home in the angelic world as soon as death destroys the equilibrium of the bodily elements. See Suhrawardī Shihāb al-Dīn (1979: 227–231). Ibn Sīnā (1983a: 16, 255). Cf. M. Marmura (1986: Monist, no. 69: 383–395); ­Thérêse-Anne Druart (1988: 29–34). Peter Heath (1992: 115). Asfār (IX, 229). See Ṣadrā’s argument on this issue in Asfār (VIII, 221–226; VI: 100); Ṣadrā (1976: 148); Mullā Ṣadrā (1984: 553). On the simplicity of the One, see also Badawi (1948/1413, 134). Cf. A.H. Armstrong (1966–1988: II, 225; V, 59; VII, 203, 321). Asfār (VIII, 51). For the ancient idea that the soul as a compound reality is composed of all the faculties, see Aristotle (1941a: 431, b. 21). Asfār (VIII, 134). Asfār (V, 191). Asfār (VIII, 135). Ibn Sīnā (1400b: 201–205); Asfār (VI, 13). See Sabzavārī’s footnotes regarding this principle of Ṣadrā’s in Asfār (VIII, 51). Asfār (VII, 221). Ibn Sīnā, his commentator Bahmanyār and Ṭūsī believed in the common concept of existence (Mushtarak al-Ma‘nawī lil-wujūd), not in the reality of existence (tashkīk fī ḥaqīqat al-wujūd), as meaningful metaphysical predication would demand. Without tashkīk, one would not be able to divide being into the necessary and the contingent, one and many. ‘Being’ is a term whose meaning is shared across all its instances,

96  The philosophy of the human soul

168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182

183 184

185 186

individual or otherwise, whether mental, extra-mental, noumenal or phenomenal. This is the exact point that Ṣadrā challenges and asks how one can predicate the common concept of existence from instances whose realities are different and have no share in reality as wujūd. For Bahmanyār’s view, see his Kitāb al-Taḥṣīl (1375 Sh: 20); for Khājeh Ṭūsī’s view, see his Muṣāri‘ al-Muṣāri‘ (1405: 124). See also M. Mohaghegh and T. Izutsu (1983: 40–41). For Ṣadrā’s arguments against Ibn Sīnā, see Mullā Ṣadrā (1303: 242–244); Mullā Ṣadrā (1976: 22); Asfār (III, 353; V, 291). Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: IV, 356). See Ibn Sīnā’s arguments in Ibn Sīnā (1973: 145). Ibn Sīnā (1400b: 216). See Abd al-Razzāq al-Lāhījī (n.d.: chapter 1, 195). See also Abul Hasan Āmirī (1375: 339–344). See Ibn Sīnā’s discussion against substantial change in his al-Ilāhiyyāt of al-Shifā, 257. Asfār (VIII, 343). Asfār (I, 120–1); Asfār (III, 74). For Ṣadrā’s argument with Shaykh Suhrawardī on this issue, see his annotation to al-Shifā (1303: 27–28); Asfār (I, 399; VI, 22–23). G. Ibrāhīmī Dīnānī (1366 Sh: 161–162); M. Amin Razavi (1992: HI, no. 15: 19–36). See also E. Gilson (1952). Asfār (IV, 88); Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: II, 7; III: 353). See A.D. Lovejoy (1936: 242); S.H. Nasr and O. Leaman (1996b: II, 647). See Husain Ziai and John Walbridge (1999: 83, 24–27); S. Rizvi (1999: APh, 9–3, 224). Asfār (IX, 186). Asfār (I, 47; II, 327). Asfār (VIII, 81). Vortex has no Arabic equivalent that was used by Ṣadrā, but his concept of an existent is close to the phenomenological concept of a vortex. Borrowing from Davidson and the phenomenologists, this term is used by S. Rizvi (2009a: 103) to explain the process of being in the Sadrian philosophical context. Cf. D. Davidson (1980: 174). S. Rizvi (2009a: 103). The question of being lies at the heart of Heidegger’s metaphysics. For him, the study of the meaning of being is critical. He criticises mediaeval thinkers for their doctrines of the apriority, indefinability and ‘unavailability’ of being, and gives this question (Seinsfrage) an ontological priority in his philosophical discourse. See M. Heidegger (1996: 7). For the problem of ‘being’ in ancient Greece, see C. Kahn (1981: 105–134). Mullā Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 13–14). For more on this idea within Western philosophy, see J.P. Kenney (1991: 104); John L. Mackie (1979).

3 Mullā Ṣadrā: political or apolitical philosopher?

Synopsis As a philosopher, Mullā Ṣadrā is controversial with regard to politics. The aim of this chapter is to sum up the dispute over his approach to politics and a discourse on his preference to focus on the homonymy between theory and praxis. Ṣadrā’s non-political works and oftentimes seemingly aloof stance towards politics indicated for some of his readers the supposition that he pursued the summum bonum of enlightened engagement (ma‘rifa) and virtuous action, as for him, the end of philosophy was the higher life of piety, a reflection of a Hermetic ideal. This approach is supported by the advocates of a spiritual Shi‘ism who have reiterated the esotericists’ approach to transcendent philosophy and  – within a wider context – promoted the mystico-intellectual traditions of Islam, a position supported by both Sunni and Shi‘a scholars whom we briefly introduce, some as representative advocates of apolitical Islam. The most recent foray into this trend as part of a study of political Islam avoids advocating a solely esotericist hermeneutical reading of Ṣadrā’s text and in different ways seeks to claim the 1979 Iranian revolution as a political legacy of Mullā Ṣadrā. Having briefly delineated this intellectual background, the primary discourse of my study in this chapter may offer a new perspective on Ṣadrā’s political philosophy.

Approaches to political Islam Mullā Ṣadrā wrote no book or treatise specifically on politics. However, he ­neither approved of the Shi‘i empires of the Safavids, who ruled over the nation for the first time since the Islamisation of Iran, nor cooperated with any of his five contemporaneous kings. This attitude incurred a supposition that this was probably to be considered as his gnostic opposition to politics during the occultation. He clearly declares, ‘There is no riot in religion and tribulation in Muslim belief which is not initiated by the association of the ‘ulamā with worldly rulers and kings.’1 In Seh Aṣl, he refers to the worldly orthodox or official religious professionals (‘ulamā) as ‘apes, swine and worshippers of the worldly idol (tāghūt) in the robe of piety and propriety’.2 In Kasr Aṣnām, he complains of a group of ‘ulamā who have consolidated their position and emerged as a Shi‘ite hierocracy

98  Mullā Ṣadrā: political or apolitical philosopher? within the Safavid caesaro-papist state. He describes this group as those who seek political fame. Know that the traditions (aḥādīth) in derogation of the world, of seeking fame among men, and of sociability with men are many and well known in the compendia of traditions and elsewhere.3 In another place he says: The greatest veil from perceiving the Real [God] and realities [the essence of things] is the love of fame (shuhra) and high worldly rank with the people of the age, and the desire for leadership (rīyāsa) and joy on earth and superiority over people.4 For this group of scholars, these and numerous similar statements make the assumption that Ṣadrā was unconcerned with politics and the matter of political Islam. Therefore, they consider Ṣadrā as a key member of the seventeenth-­century mystic-philosophical school of Isfahan, which militated against the formation of a popularly rooted hierocracy and promoted an apolitical interpretation of the wilāya and the leadership of the Imams in Shi‘ism. For example, Said Amir Arjomand, comparing Ṣadrā and Luther, says: ‘Luther was completely indifferent towards the organization of the church as long as the Word could be spread in purity.’5 Mullā Ṣadrā goes further, and considers the ‘ulamā’s political interest as the maintenance of hierocratic domination, and a deflection from and hindrance to the true interpretation of the word [religion], and hence salvation, through gnosis. This foremost spokesman of gnostic Shi‘ism condemns hierocratic domination outright as worldly domination, and as such is no different from political supremacy.6 H. Corbin and H. Nasr often depict the key elements of the School of Isfahan and its foremost thinkers including Mullā Ṣadrā as adversarial to the rise in power of a juristic hierocracy at the cost of metaphysical speculation and mystical experience.7 Corbin completed the description by juxtaposing the esoteric and metaphysical speculation of the thinkers of the School of Isfahan with the orthodox Shi‘ite theology and jurisprudence of the time. The School of Isfahan thus represented the enlightened spiritual and intellectual elite, as opposed to the theological and political orthodoxy of the Safavid establishment.8 One of the criticisms frequently made of Corbin’s phenomenological image of the history of Islamic philosophy, is that he spiritualised or re-mythologised it at the expense of its very strong rationalistic side. This latter aspect, the one almost exclusively taken into consideration in most other presentations, is not what caught Corbin’s interest. In a broader vision, Corbin certainly did not think that it was his task to represent Islam from a political angle.9 According to Corbin, the distinction between the exoteric (zāhir) and the esoteric (bāṭin), the apparent and the hidden, forms the philosophical basis of the Shi‘i case that the Imamate constitutes the heart and truth of prophecy (nubuwwa). In view of this and deeply

Mullā Ṣadrā: political or apolitical philosopher?  99 aware of the timeless conflict between the esoteric and exoteric, Corbin calls Shi‘ism the sanctuary of Islamic esotericism, for which he created a monument.10 Taking a similar approach and promoting the idea that Shi‘ism is oriented towards the spiritual stations (al-maqāmāt al-irfānī) of the Prophet and the Imams, Nasr believes that, according to Shi‘ism, in addition to the power of prophecy in the sense of bringing a divine law (nubuwwa and risāla), the Prophet, like other great prophets before him, had the power of spiritual guidance and initiation (wilāya), which he transmitted through Fatima to ‘Ali and through him to all the Imams. Nasr adds that the writings of the Imams contain a treasury of Islamic gnosis (‘irfān). The Nahj al-Balāgha of Imam ‘Ali, the Ṣaḥifat al-Sajjādiyya of the fourth Imam, Zayn al-‘Ābidīn, and the Uṣūl al-Kāfī of Kulaynī, which contains the sayings of the Imams, outline a complete exposition of Islamic gnosis and have in fact served as a basis for many later mystics and Sufi commentaries.11 He believes that the close relationship between Shi‘ism and Sufism continued until the time of the Twelfth Imam and his associate ‘ulamā like Ibn Bābwayh, the famous Shi‘ite theologian, and Sayyed Sharīf Murtaḍā, who calls the Sufis the ‘real Shi‘a’. Nasr narrates from the Jāmi‘ al-Asrār of Sayyid Ḥaydar Āmulī (d.  720/1385) – a most significant Shi‘ite mystic  – that he believed every true Shi‘a is a Sufi and every true Sufi a Shi‘a.12 In his critical analysis of primary Shi‘a sources, Mohammad Ali Amir-Moezzi destroys certain interpretations to which the past has been subjected and outlines a new hypothesis on the essential structures of early Twelver Shi‘ism and the teachings of the Imams. According to Amir-Moezzi, the doctrines that appear to have been held by the earliest generations of Shi‘a were completely overturned during the late ninth and early tenth centuries CE. He believes that certain aspects of Shi‘i doctrines in hadith collections reveal that, in contrast to the later Mu‘tazilīinfluenced rationalist Twelver Shi‘i theology, the Islam taught by the Imams of Twelver Shi‘ism in the first three Islamic centuries was based on esoteric teachings. One important aspect of this esoteric doctrine of the Imamate is the occultation of the Twelfth Imam. The earth can never be devoid of an Imam, and so when the Twelfth Imam went into Occultation to avoid his enemies, his life was miraculously prolonged until he reappears just before the Day of Judgement. The Hidden Imam is ‘the repository of God on earth’ (Dhakhīrat Allah ‘alal-Arḍ).13 The presence of numerous hadiths in the early corpus of the Imams invites at least the consideration of nuances in the idée fixe that reduces the existence of the Imams to a militant, political role and their doctrine to an ideology of subversion.14 It is true that the group that will later be called ‘Shi‘a ‘Ali’ (the partisans of ‘Ali) formed under the political conditions of the famous arbitration of the Battle of Ṣiffīn and that according to an exclusively historical point of view, Imamite opposition appears to have led to the third Imam’s battle against the Umayyad authorities at Karbala,15 but from that time onwards the Imams abandoned all activity that could be considered positively political and retained only a kind of ‘intellectual’ opposition to the Umayyad and Abbasid powers.16 According to Amir-Moezzi, Imamite doctrine was formulated at the time of the fifth and sixth Imams. He calls this period ‘the radical apoliticalism’ of the

100  Mullā Ṣadrā: political or apolitical philosopher? early history of Imamism. They seem to have deduced the True Religion (al-Dīn al-Ḥaqq), i.e., the esoteric doctrine of the Imams, as they understood it, and the esoteric became forever irreconcilable with politics. For Amir-Moezzi, ‘forever’ means until the ‘End of Time’ (Ākhir al-Zamān), since, according to the Imams, ‘The Ideal City’, administered by an ‘Impeccable’, is unrealisable until the Return of the Resurrector (Qā’im); thus, the political, which leads to perdition, must be abandoned in order to safeguard the religious.17 The concept of ‘waiting for the Saviour’ (intizār al-Munjī) mentioned in numerous hadiths is a key political concept in Shi‘ism, meaning that, throughout the period of the occultation until the End of Time, the faithful Imamite is invited to arm himself with constant patience. In Amir-Moezzi’s view, the concept of intizār and the tenor of the traditions introduce the ‘awaiter’ (muntazirīn) as the ‘true Shi‘a’ and suggests that three things are demanded of the faithful: at the level of religion, submission to the Divine Will; at an esoteric level, keeping the secret regarding the date of the Return of the Hidden Imam; and finally a ‘political level’ that adopts an apolitical, passive stance.18 As for the concept of ‘walāya’ and the walī’s mission, Amir-Moezzi, like Nasr and Corbin, applies an apolitical interpretation: in contrast to the semantic complexity of the term walāya in the administration, social and religious language of the beginning of Islam and later in the technical terminology of Sufism, walāya, in the context of early Shi‘ism, has quite a simple translation with several interdependent and complementary meanings; it refers to the imams and prophets’ ontological status or their sacred initiatory mission; several nuances of the root WLY are found in the meaning of “friend” and the closest “holder” of God and His prophet; walī is the “chief”, the “master” of the believers par-excellence. Walāya denotes the unfailing love, faith and submission that the initiated owe to their holy initiating guide.19 By citing relevant hadiths and with an esoteric interpretation of the idea of the Mahdi’s eschatology, Amir-Moezzi reduces matters to a battle against Evil, reenacting the primordial battle between the forces of the Hiero-Intelligence and Ignorance. The definitive annihilation of the forces of ignorance by the Saviour by means of a liberating battle and enlightening initiation, brings the world to its original state, in which it was inhabited only by the forces of ‘aql, before those of jahl made an appearance. As for the individual, it completes the cycle of ­initiation that also began at the creation and continues throughout the s­ piritual life of humanity, since it is renewed over the ages by the teachings of the imams of all times. Therefore, for Amir-Moezzi, the Mahdi’s reappearance does not have any political significance. Indeed, just like some earlier faiths, for ­example the Iranian religions or the ‘heterodox’ Jewish, Judeo-Christian, or Christian sects of the first centuries after Jesus, doctrinal Imami Shi‘ism can be appreciated, in its particular features, only as an initiatory, esoteric teaching within a mythical discourse.20

Mullā Ṣadrā: political or apolitical philosopher?  101 With this approach to Shi‘ism, when interpreting Mullā Ṣadrā’s only poem, Amir-Moezzi attempts to demonstrate that Ṣadrā believed that Imam Ali was the spiritual successor of the Prophet. Moezzi’s main argument is based on hadiths such as ‘Warrior of Ta’wīl,’ whereby Mullā Ṣadrā himself makes the figure of Ali and his battle against his adversaries nothing less than a spiritual hermeneutic. He asserts that Ṣadrā explicitly states that the divine science is, above all, the knowledge that transforms mankind, since it is based on contemplation (mushāhada) and unveiling (mukāshifa) and is none other than knowledge of the esoteric meaning of the Qur’an and hadith. No other worldly science or body of knowledge has this virtue. He then quotes the following statement from Ṣadrā: Well then, which is the noblest of sciences? Is it law, rhetoric or speculative theology? Philology, grammar, medicine, astrology or philosophy? Geometry, arithmetic, astronomy or physics? No, none of these sciences considered in isolation has such a sublime status. It is exclusively to be found with the science of esotericism in the Qur’an and Hadith, and not in the letter to which anyone can gain access.21 Sayyed Muhammad Javād Gharavī (1903–2005), a recent traditional Shi‘a thinker (in the Ḥawzah), is an advocate of spiritual Shi‘ism, very openly rejects the political leadership of the imams, and has suggested a new interpretation of the event of Ghadīr al-Khumm (10/632).22 Ghadīr is the most important historical proof held by advocates of political Shi‘ism, whence the Prophet announced ‘Ali as his successor as he and his companions were returning from the pilgrimage (Ḥajj). During the course of this incident, Muhammad called for congregational prayer and asked for an improvised pulpit to be erected. After a contextual brief, he uttered the famous saying: ‘He whose mawlā (master) I am, ‘Ali is his mawlā (man kuntum mawlāh fa hādhā ‘Aliuun mawlāh).’23 Through various Qur’anic verses and arguments, Gharavī attempts to prove that this appointment was spiritual and did not imply any political leadership. According to Gharavī, Imam ‘Ali’s own sayings evidence the fact that the caliphate is not divinely appointed. Rather, the Prophet’s political successor should be elected by the people, since ‘Ali never mentioned his having a divine right to rule or that his caliphate was declared by prophetic utterance. ‘Ali’s demeanour regarding the three earlier caliphs, Abu Bakr, ‘Omar and ‘Othman, obviously shows that he never treated them as people who disregarded the Prophet’s words on this issue or had usurped the government. Gharavī says that if ‘Ali had believed that God had commanded him to take the caliphate after the Prophet, he would have unsheathed his sword to implement God’s command. Rather, he was always concerned that the caliph might limit the people’s own authority. For example, he disliked the idea that a caliph should appoint a successor or act in a way to cause a particular person to be selected. For Gharavī, ‘Ali’s most important role is that of Imam, which exemplifies spiritual and intellectual leadership for all time, and should not be reduced to that of a political governor for certain people at a particular time. ‘Ali sought to set a model for leaders and rulers throughout history. He is the Imam of morality, honour,

102  Mullā Ṣadrā: political or apolitical philosopher? dignity, freedom, justice and compassion – an Imam whose only concern is elucidating the path outlined in the Quran, the path that God has sent to us through his Messenger.24 In his celebrated book al-Islam wa Uṣūl al-Ḥukm (Islam and the Foundations of Government), Shaykh Ali Abd al-Rāziq (d. 1384/1966) argues that even the Prophet Muhammad did not intend to be a political leader and that Islam did not support the rise of any political social system.25 Rather, he was the bearer of a religious message; he did not have a government, nor did he seek to establish a political state or anything like it. The Prophet’s authority was sacred and came from God to enable him to deliver the divine revelation. This does not entail political leadership, which is the mandate of a Sultan, not a divine prophet. To justify his view, Abd al-Rāziq refers to several verses of the Qur’an that announce the Prophet as a messenger commissioned only to deliver God’s revelation to the people and nothing else: ‘We have sent you only to give good news and to warn’ (17:105); ‘The duty of the messenger is to convey the message clearly’ (27:54); ‘Yet we have sent you only to give good tidings and to warn’ (25:56); ‘Tell him: I am only a warner’ (27:92).26 Mehdi Ḥāery Yazdī (1923–1999) maintains a similar view to that of Abd al-Rāziq. He emphasises that the Prophet’s administration was formed by the consensus of the people and then later endorsed by God. He writes: Some previous prophets, but especially the Prophet of Islam, besides the exalted position of prophecy, had undertaken governing people and to commit political affairs. We have to know that since people compelled them with no anticipate inclination, their political leadership and special circumstances forced them to accept political authority, and this cannot be taken into account as part of God’s revelation.27 At the other extreme, another view of Imamism emphasises the historical reality of the imams taking both theological and socio-political roles. Although a considerable number of contemporary Shi‘a scholars, within the orthodox, legalistic ‘ulamā28 and outside29 do not believe in the practicality of establishing an independent religious government during the occultation of the Twelfth Imam, a vast number of jurists, especially after the 1979 Islamic Revolution in Iran, still support the idea of politicised Islam and the political authority of the jurists.30 By emphasising the inseparability of religion and politics, they argue that in order to practically implement a religion that encompasses social interaction, it is crucial to establish a religious state. An Islamic government maximises the role of moral virtue and compassion in social interaction, just as the Shari‘a did during the lifetime of the Prophet in Medina. This group holds that the Shari‘a is fully equipped to deal with all social change until the end of time. Even though the advent of Islam occurred historically at a specific time and place, it is reasonable to extrapolate a universal, ahistorical and timeless legal framework for different aspects of social relationships. Many legal facets of social interaction can, in fact, remain stable in spite of formal changes.31

Mullā Ṣadrā: political or apolitical philosopher?  103 However, in the juridical Islamic state (ḥukūmat Islam-i fiqāhatī) as promoted by this group, the legal system of Islam does not take a passive stance in the face of the different structures within society. For them, it is illogical to assume that every kind of cultural, social or economic relationship can be universally endorsed by Islam, for it has timeless rules, values and objectives that conflict with certain types of associations and lifestyles. This approach is not the product of essential links to a specific model of social formation or a particular social order but rather an active and dynamic attitude that emerges from a set of unchanging rules and principals.32 The main issue for the advocates of political Islam is governing in accord with the religion during the occultation of the Imam and the practical management of daily life as pursued at the time of the Prophet. In their opinion, jurists are those most knowledgeable of Islam and able to manage society according to Shari‘a law. The most substantial evidence in support of the political authority of jurists is a tradition narrated by Shaykh al-Ṣadūq, where Isḥāq Ibn Ya‘qūb wrote a letter to the absent Imam, asking him about some concerns of his.33 The Imam’s deputy (Muhammad Ibn ‘Othmān Ibn Sa‘īd al-‘Amrī) conveyed the letter to him. The Imam replied: ‘As for events that may occur (al-ḥawādith al-wāqi‘a),34 refer to the transmitters (ruwāt) of our teachings who are my proof (ḥujja) to you, and I am the proof of God (Ḥujjat Allah) to you all.’35 There are about seven other hadiths, with different degrees of credibility, to which the advocates of the political authority of the faqīh during the occultation refer and which illustrate how the well qualified jurist not only has priority over others in the governance of the believers but is explicitly designated as a guardian (walī) of the Muslim community.36 The jurist has a duty of social and political guardianship because someone necessarily has to undertake such a function. There are only two options: either to delegate authority to those with no intrinsic knowledge of Islam or to support the authority of the just faqīh. There are natural misgivings about the former when the latter is feasible, and therefore the fuqahā (faqīh pl.) have a duty and right to fulfil it.37 In Islamic jurisprudence this authority is called general authority (wilāyat al-‘āmma) and functions above the administration of justice (wilāyat al-qaḍā/al-ḥisba).38 In wilāyat al-āmma, the jurist has the right to exercise the political duties of government, which consequently implies that such a one may lead and rule Muslim society. This view was supported by a group of uṣūlī jurists during Ṣadrā’s time who upheld the idea of an interpretive method of jurisprudence concerning the religious law. A rational process of deduction (ijtihād) from the Qur’an and hadith was developed by the uṣūlīs when, in the Safavid period in particular, the maintenance and expansion of the mujtahids’ authority were elaborated and implemented by rationalist clerics such as Ali al-Karakī (d. 937/1534) and Shaykh Bahā’ī (d. 1031/1622). Through a process of rationalisation, this group of jurists, who held different positions in the Safavid court, attempted to manage the social and political requirements of the state and society.39 For example, al-Karakī says: ‘Imami jurists believe that the fully qualified faqīh and known as a mujtahid, is the deputy (nāyib) of the Impeccable Ones (peace be upon them) in all the affairs attendant upon deputyship. Hence, it is obligatory to refer to him in litigation and

104  Mullā Ṣadrā: political or apolitical philosopher? accept his verdict. If necessary, he can sell the property of the party who refuses to pay his due . . . rather, if it were not for the wilāyat al-‘āmma, many affairs of the state and day-to-day needs of the Shi‘a community would remain undone.’40 The question here is what was Ṣadrā’s position on the political involvement of the ‘ulamā? There seems to be enough compelling historical evidence to argue that, despite his devotion to and respect for some of the philosopher-jurists allied with the Safavid court, Ṣadrā made no contribution to the discursive formation of their political authority. He respected the true jurist and praised the method of rational interpretive reasoning in jurisprudence (ijtihād), but his thoughts on the science of fiqh and the jurist’s position were fundamentally different. In the following discussion, I  will put forward the claim that Ṣadrā is not a political philosopher in the sense that advocates of a Shi‘ite hierocracy and the political authority of jurists assert, nor does he promote a thoroughly spiritualised and quietistic Shi‘ism and the fundamental separation of religion and politics.

Mullā Ṣadrā’s views on political Islam In Chapter  7, we will show that, according to Ṣadrā, the science of fiqh alone does not make the jurist a perfect leader because it does not necessarily require an understanding of the inner meaning of the sacred text and the hadiths. In his view, most legal scholars are unpractised in the contemplation of the essence of religion and so do not have a comprehensive knowledge of Islam, let alone the ability to purify their souls in order to take on the responsibility of political leadership. In Chapter  4 we will explain that Ṣadrā’s priority in his scholarly career was mysticism and the intellectual sciences.41 Nevertheless, his devotion to the spiritual aspects of Islam did not lead him of the idea of a completely apolitical Shi‘ism. In his particular mystical vision, involvement in social and political affairs is a prerequisite of the successful spiritual journey rather than something to be avoided. According to Ṣadrā, the perfect wayfarer must be able to reconcile the demands of both the material and the spiritual dimensions, since it is an essential requirement for internal equilibrium and peace. His mysticism is not a kind of asceticism that is indifferent to the physical aspects of existence because, from his perspective, the realities of this world and the next, the interior and exterior, unity and multiplicity and, most importantly, the human intellect and the Shari‘a are two sides of the same coin. In his Asfār, Mullā Ṣadrā narrates from the famous mystic Junayd al-Baghdadi (d. 297/908), who says: ‘The real lover of God must spend his time in ­seclusion and should not have any engagement with the people in society. When he is called he should not listen. When he looks at something he does not see anything, because his entire attention is on his real beloved. . . . He never fights with people over worldly things. . . . [H]is affairs and concerns are apart from the people and society.’42 Having quoted this from Junayd, Ṣadrā says: The specifications which are mentioned by Junayd suit wayfarers at the initial stages of their spiritual journey, not those wayfarers who have achieved the realm of divinity. These wayfarers are still on their journey from the people

Mullā Ṣadrā: political or apolitical philosopher?  105 towards the Truth, but the wayfarers who reach the Truth and [in the fourth journey] return to the people benefit from the divine light. Due to their high level of spirituality, such wayfarers are the happiest and most joyful people.43 Therefore, the true mystic cannot remain indifferent to worldly affairs and the ­day-to-day management of society. The interpretation of Ṣadrā’s mysticism presented here clearly differs from those of scholars such as Corbin, Nasr and ­Amir-Moezzi and Amir-Arjomand, who tended to regard Mullā Ṣadrā as apolitical.44 Ṣadrā wrote no specific work on politics, but we find many scattered references in his writings to social and political matters. For Ṣadrā, man is a social creature, and one of his main duties is to improve the life of society, without which it would be impossible to reach the Truth. In line with the Muslim philosophers of the medieval period,45 Ṣadrā considers politics essential to life within society and justifies the arguments found in his various works with the following points, which he discusses in his various works: 1

The achievement of ultimate perfection, goodness and prosperity would not be possible without a just government in one of three forms: the city, the community (umma) or the perfect state.46 2 Worldly life is a means to achieve happiness in the Hereafter, and this cannot be accomplished unless man’s body is healthy, his lineage continues, and his species survives. All this can only be possible within the political framework of the state.47 3 To avoid chaos, a political system is necessary. If man’s destiny is not overseen by fair and robust policies, there will inevitably be disaster.48 4 God would not leave people without the possibility of developing their intellectual faculties. Therefore, through His Grace, He has sent leaders to advise the people to obey their reason in order to satisfy their [spiritual and material] needs and to live a comfortable life. Based on this perspective, in several places Ṣadrā says that there is at all times at least one person who qualifies to be the political leader, although this person is usually unknown.49 5 Since man is predisposed to isolated individualism, a government is necessary to prevent such extreme self-interest. The tendency towards individualism that exists in his nature is, in turn, mirrored within society. However, it is possible to overcome these tendencies through a sound political system.50 6 One of the aims of the religions in general is to protect man’s life, property and society in order to achieve happiness (Sa‘āda). Evidently, the best means to achieve this is through a just political system.51 Therefore, in Ṣadrā’s view, with the right form of government, mankind abides in peace and justice, and in the case of Islam, such an environment pertains not only to the time of the Prophet but may prevail throughout all time. It goes without saying that the people need a Lawgiver (Shāri‘) to manage their worldly affairs and teach them how to live, so that they have the best

106  Mullā Ṣadrā: political or apolitical philosopher? opportunities for material benefit and the path that leads to the proximity of God. Such a Lawgiver must send His message through a human being, because the angels cannot teach worldly affairs to the people. Then look at the blessings of God, how He has bestowed His favour upon His creatures by creating the bliss of the next world with the good of this world. Yet the One Who has created with His favour [such a small thing as] the eyebrow for the human being, could not neglect so important an issue as creating the perfect man [to lead society].52

Summary and conclusion On the basis of the foregoing discussions, my assertion bears out that Ṣadrā was not unconcerned with politics. Rather, concepts such as government during the absence of the Hidden Imam in order to uphold a virtuous society and the ideal state, and many other political ideas in his work, provide us with premises for establishing political applications for his philosophy. However, one must notice the centrality of human spirituality in Ṣadrā’s views on politics and that it is instrumental in bringing people closer to God. Within this political framework, people are subject to substantial evolutional changes (al-ḥarakat al-istikmālī al-jawharī) throughout life in the world and society. With this in mind, in many instances he advises the mystics of his time that spiritual wayfaring is not an end in itself. He always reminds the mystics and philosophers that the aim of philosophical inquiry is therapy for the rational soul, to develop and perfect it on its path of return to its origin in the One, and this requires a unique approach that is neither merely discursive nor purely mystical but oriented towards praxis within personal and social life. It is for this reason that he strongly criticises those Sufis who opt for the remembrance of God in seclusion,53 whilst oblivious to the plight of other Muslims and the oppressed, neither enjoining others to do good nor forbidding evil.54 Given all these characteristics, in the following chapter we first introduce Ṣadrā’s definition of politics, the status it holds in his philosophy amongst the other human sciences and the priorities of his scholarly career. It thus becomes apparent why his attitude to politics has been so controversial for students of his philosophy.

Notes

1 2 3 4 5 6

Mullā Ṣadrā (n.d.c.: 13). Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: 48). Ṣadrā (1381a Sh: 45). Ṣadrā (2008: 37) Cited from Max Weber (1978: 1175). Said Amir-Arjomand (1985: 211), where the author contrasts Muhammad Bāqir al-Majlisī with Mullā Ṣadrā and other gnostic Shi‘a of the School of Isfahan. He believes that Majlisī established the dogmatic party and made a determined effort to consolidate the hierocratic domination of the masses (‘awāmm). 7 Given the historical fact that most mystic-philosophers of the School of Isfahan were jurists as well and were appointed to official positions in the hierocracy, Andrew Newman has challenged Corbin and Nasr’s idea of ‘intolerant, orthodox jurists’, regarding

Mullā Ṣadrā: political or apolitical philosopher?  107

8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

17 18 19

20 21 22

23

those scholars during the reign of Shah ʿAbbās I  who were primarily interested in philosophy and mysticism. Newman considers Shaykh Bahāʾī and Mir Dāmād as engaged political agents and foremost jurists. The Iranian Revolution of 1979 and the ­political and juridical face of Shiʿism, especially in the form of an individual like Ayatollah Khomeini who encounters a deep affinity to the thought of the School of Isfahan with a radical political agenda, are evidence that Newman’s corrective is more effective against Corbin and Nasr who support such a split. See Andrew Newman (1986: 165–166). H. Corbin (1956: I, 339). H. Landolt (1999: JAOS, vol. 119, no. 3, 489). H. Corbin (1971: vol. I, xiv, 181, 186, 210; vol. III, 254). See also H. Enāyat (1982: 22–24). H. Nasr (1970: 241–242). H. Nasr (1970: 238), cited from Jāmi‘ al-Asrār. This latter work has been edited for the first time by H. Corbin and O. Yaḥyā and has appeared in the collection of Institute Franco-Iranian of Tehran (1969). Mohammad Ali Amir-Moezzi (1993:76). Amir Moezzi (1993: 37); Moezzi brings some evidences from al-Nu‘mānī, Kitāb alGhayba (chapter 20, 445f.) and Ibn Bābwayh’s Kamāl al-Dīnwa Tamām al-Ni‘ma (vol. 2, chapter 58, 673). Amir Moezzi (1993: 61). Amir Moezzi (1993: 68); Amir-Moezzi believes that the drama of Karbala was a decisive turning point in the political stance of early Imamism. All the information suggests that the Imams realised and were trying to persuade their faithful that the age of ‘synonymity’ between ‘temporal’ and ‘spiritual’ powers, as was the case in the time of the Prophet, had come to an end. Moezzi says that, according to a hadith narrated in al-Rawḍaby al-Kulaynī (II, 121–1220) and Kitāb al-Ghayba by al-Nu‘mānī (161–168) after the tragedy of Karbala, other Imams refused to let themselves be entangled in the vagaries of armed rebellion and indeed justified their quietist policy by reasoning that armed uprising against oppression was the prerogative of the Mahdi upon his final manifestation. See Amir-Moezzi (2011: 427). Amir-Moezzi (1993: 69). Amir-Moezzi (1993:123). Amir Moezzi (2011: 246–247). As we will discuss later in this chapter, Amir-Moezzi is not the first thinker to suggest a meaning other than political authority for walāya. For example, see H. Corbin (1993: 26–30); M. Chodkiewicz (1993: 67–77); Hamid Dabashi and Seyyed Vali Reza Nasr (1988b: 171–174). See also H. Landolt (1987: ER, vol. 15, 316–323). For a historical approach to this concept in Shi‘ism, see M.M. Dakake (2007). Amir-Moezzi (2011: 429); Amir-Moezzi (1993: 64). See Amir-Moezzi (2011: 335–336), cited from Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: 74–75, 83–84). In today’s Iran, the official interpretation of the events of Ghadīr Khumm is being used by clerical supporters of those in power to justify theocracy. In October 2014, Ali Asghar Gharavī, the son of Javād Gharavī, was sentenced to six months in prison by the Iranian government for his article, ‘The Imam: A Political Leader or Role Model for the Faithful?’ in the newspaper Baḥār (1392 Sh), in which he supported his father’s account of Ghadīr. The traditions about Ghadīr are some of the most extensively substantiated and acknowledged traditions, several variations of which appear in classical Islamic sources. The majority of Shi‘a believe that the event of Ghadīr Khumm is a clear designation (naṣṣ) that ʿAli should lead the Muslims after the Prophet. Those who later formed the Sunni community unanimously conceded that this historic declaration was made but maintain that it was a call for ʿAli to be held in affection and esteem rather than a confirmation of his succession. For more details on this controversy between

108  Mullā Ṣadrā: political or apolitical philosopher? 24 25 26 27 28

29

30

31

32

Shi‘a and Sunni, see Abu al-Hasan Ali b. Ibrahim, Qummī (1966: 171–175); Ahmad al-Balādhirī (2003); Ignaz Goldziher (1971). See Muhammad Javād Gharavī Isfahani (n.p., n.d.). We can find very a similar argument to Abd al-Rāziq’s by Sayyed Rāḍi Āli Yāsīn in his well-known book, Ṣulḥ al-Ḥasan (1979). Ali Abd al-Rāziq (1978: 73). To support his position, Ḥāery refers to the following verse of the Qur’an: ‘Certainly Allah was well pleased with the believers when they swore allegiance to you under the tree’ (48: 18). See Mehdi ḤāeryYazdī (1995: 143). See ḤāeryYazdī (1995). In the appendix of Ḥāery’s book, there is a serious dialogue between the author and Javādī Āmulī on supporting proofs for political Islam and the political authority of the faqīh. Akbar Thubūt, in his forthcoming book, chapters 9 and 10, has collected arguments of the most eminent early and contemporary jurists, with a focus on Akhūnd Khorasani’s views on different aspects of the political authority of the faqīh and its social, religious and political repercussions. For more on different approaches to modern political secularism, see Mehrān Kāmravā (2008: 1–9, 174–213). For a study on political Islam and modern issues like democracy, human and civil rights, see M. Kāmravā, ed. (2006). See also Roy Olivier (2007: chapter  2); Berna Turam (2004: BJS, LV, no. 2, 259–281). In Persian, for more on apolitical Islam and the issue of wilāyat al-faqīh in jurisprudence with a historical approach, from early Islam to contemporary Iran, see M. Kadīvar (1387c Sh: sections 2 and 4); Ḥamīd Enāyat (1377 Sh). On modern political secularism in Persian, see Abd al-Karīm Soroush (1376 Sh: 423); Hātam Qāderī (2000). There is a rich body of literature in English that examines intellectual trends in modern Iran and the ideological and political foundations of the Islamic revolution. See, for example, Hamid Dabashi (1993); Mehrzad Boroujerdi (1996); Negin Nabavi (2003); Farzin Vahdat (2002); Daniel Brumberg (2001). See Rūhullah Khomeini (1390 Sh). For a historical study on religious political authority from Imam Ali to Khomeini, see Hamid Mavani (2013). See also A. Javādī Āmulī (1357 Sh: 4–16); A. Javādī Āmulī (1378 Sh); S. Abbas Hussieni Qā’im Maqāmī (1379 Sh). The following verses have been quoted by advocates of political Islam: And we have revealed to you the Book with the Truth, verifying what is before it of the book and a guardian over it, therefore, judge between them by what Allah revealed (5:48]; And whoever does not judge by what Allah has revealed, they are the unbelievers (5:44); Allah raised prophets as bearers of good news and warners, and He revealed with them the book with truth, that it might judge between people in that in which they differed (2: 2; 3).

For more details on the proofs for political Islam, see Seyed Kāzim Hāerī (1415: 95–99); Abdullah Javādī Āmulī (1378: 151–152). 33 A hadith of the second degree, from ‘Umar Ibn Hanzala, has been used in support of the political authority of jurists. In this hadith, ‘Umar Ibn Hanzala asks Imam Ṣādiq what would be the correct action for two Shi‘i individuals who have a disagreement concerning a debt or inheritance, whether to seek the verdict of the ruler or the judge. The Imam replies: ‘They must seek out one of you who narrates our traditions, who is versed in what is permissible and what is forbidden, who is well acquainted with our laws and ordinances, and accept him as judge and arbiter, for I appoint him as hākim (judge).’ See Shaykh al-Kulaynī (1356 Sh: I, 67); ShaykhṬūsī (1367 Sh: VI, 218). 34 Ayatollah Khomeini says: ‘What is meant by al-ḥawādith al-wāqi‘a is the newly-­arising problems that affect the people and Muslims. The question Isḥāq Ibn Ya‘qūb was implicitly posing was this: “Now that we no longer have access to you, what should we do with respect to social problems? What is our duty?” ’ See R. Khomeinī (1981: 85).

Mullā Ṣadrā: political or apolitical philosopher?  109 35 Abu Ja‘far, Shaykh al-Ṣadūq (1405: II, 483). This hadith is also narrated in other hadith collections, such as Shaykh Ṭūṣi’s Kitāb al-Ghayba (1411: 290), Shaykh Muhammad Hassan Najaf’s Jawāhir al-Kalām (1388 Sh: XVI, 422), and Shaykh Murtaḍā Anṣārī’s al-Qaḍāwa al-Shahādāt (1415: 46). 36 There is a group of Imami jurists who reject these categories of hadiths as evidence that the fuqahā have any special role in the daily affairs of the community. They also believe that the jurists have no special, let alone exclusive role as a separate class over the judge’s authority (al-qaḍā) or for the implementation of God’s penal law (al-ḥudūd). The qāḍī/faqīh was specifically forbidden from interacting with any authorities other than the Imams. For a further comparative study of the general authority of jurists (wilāyat al-‘āmma) in Imamism, see Muhsen Kadīvar (1387a Sh: 51–69); Muhsen Kadīvar (1387b: 100–131). 37 See Kāzim Hāerī (1415: 96); R. Khomeini (1390, 48–50); J. Eliash (1969: SI, no. 29, 17–30). 38 Wilāyat al-ḥisba is the authority of jurists to distribute individuals’ inheritance, receive taxes (khums and zakāt), manage the finance of orphans, and perform other functions. 39 See A. Newman (1992: BSOAS, vol. 55, ii: 259). See also S. Amir-Arjomand (1985: JESHO, vol. 28, no. 2: 169–219). 40 Ali al-Karakī (1409: 142–143, 161). See al-Karakī’s view on the scope of the authority of jurists in his Nafakhāt (n.d., 47: 68–72). 41 Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: 74–75, 83–84). 42 Farid al-Din Attar (1363 Sh: II, chapter 43, 21). 43 Asfār (VII, 190). 44 For more on those who saw Ṣadrā as apolitical, see Sayyed Javād Ṭabāṭabā’ī (2005/1383 Sh); Bostānī, Ahmad (1389 Sh: MUIM, vol. 1, no. 2: 10–26). 45 For a brief account of medieval philosophical thought on this issue, see Oliver Leaman (1980: DI, 110); R. Lerner and M. Mahdi (1963). 46 Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 362). 47 Ṣadrā (1360: 363); Ṣadrā (2004: II, 463). 48 Ṣadrā (1979: 111–113). 49 Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 363). 50 Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 372–374). 51 Ṣadrā (1976: 490–491). 52 Ṣadrā (1976: 489). 53 For this approach to Islamic mysticism, see Ghazzālī (1988: III, ‘Dhamm al-Rīyā’ wa al-Jahl’ and ‘Dhamm al-Ghurūr’). 54 Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: 68).

4 Transcendent politics

Synopsis This chapter explores Mullā Ṣadrā’s vision that politics should be viewed on a far broader spatio-temporal scale than is regularly supposed in common narratives on political philosophy. This fresh approach proposes that the purpose of politics is not just to uphold the law or simply to ensure the smooth running of the economy, the social infrastructure, a nation’s standing in international affairs, and the like. Concomitant with this, Ṣadrā also contributes to creating an alternative discourse regarding mysticism, whereby the aim is to purify one’s soul within society as a stage of the spiritual journey to the next level and thence to the ultimate goal that is proximity to God (qurb ila Allah). An analytical discussion in this chapter on the political concepts in Ṣadrā’s ­writings – such as the necessity of social life, man as innately a social being, the goodness of the greater community compared with a small community, and many others – is the potential ground for locating his text in a new approach to political discourse in the coming chapters. Yet the direct quotations that support his political ideas given in this chapter are a clear response to the dominant trends asserting that Ṣadrā does not deal with any such themes and inaccurately stating that ­‘Sadra’s works can be described neither as political philosophy (al-falsafat al-sīyāsīyya) nor as practical philosophy (al-falsafa al-‘amaliyya) in the classical sense.’1 Transcendent philosophy overcomes the limitations of theology and ­philosophy in the Shi‘i discourse on mysticism (‘irfān), as it grounds transcendent politics within the divine law as an antidote to modern secularism, even though it might suggest distinct secular politics. This implication, as I suggested, has been applied to Ṣadrā’s attempt to rationalise the Shari‘a and socio-political law.

Ṣadrā’s transition from his philosophy of the soul (‘ilm al-nafs) to politics The main characteristic of Mullā Ṣadrā’s ‘ilm al-nafs is a philosophical account of the nature of the human being in relation to the material and spiritual realms. Like most of the Peripatetic philosophers before him,2 Ṣadrā begins his study of the body and soul in terms of their creation as specifically human. We explained

Transcendent politics  111 his original theory of the bodily creation of the soul and its substantial transformation, whereby he proposes to resolve the old philosophical problem of the soul and body dichotomy. The doctrine of the bodily creation of the soul does not mean that the soul is a product of the body but rather is a product of an existential transformation with and in a material process. However, the body is the ‘near’ side of the unique reality of the ‘self’ that appears to us in our everyday experience. The ‘other’ side, traditionally called the soul, is the depth of that reality and is generated by the purification of the physical body. The ‘near’ side, or outward aspect, i.e., physical experience and social engagement, is a necessary prerequisite in the soul’s journey of substantial transformation. Ṣadrā writes: The truth is that the human soul is physical in its temporal occurrence and participation, whereas it is spiritual in its subsistence and intellection; in its participation in the material world, it is corporeal, while by its intellection of its own essence and of the essence of its cause, it remains spiritual.3 In the soul’s transformation from potentiality to actuality, the intellect becomes manifest after the full realisation of sense experience and the internal faculties, such as perception, memory, and so forth. The being of the soul is a continuous reality throughout the material, imaginal and intellectual states. At each level it is in one sense the same yet different in another because, as the doctrine of gradational existence demands, the same being passes through different stages of development. Considered in this way, the soul becomes purified and realises its potential through the existential provision of a variety of faculties.4 In the simultaneous movement within and away from worldly engagement and material experience, man gradually becomes conscious of other aspects of himself and other realities, such as divine knowledge, the inner aspects of the Shari‘a and the canonical rites, and so on. The process of knowledge, purification and perfection continues until all ignorance, which is concomitant with the bodily and other material aspects of existence, is completely removed. In Ṣadrā’s epistemology, the mental existence of actions in the human soul (ṣurat al-‘amal fi al-nafs) are the building blocks of man’s character and ultimately refer to knowledge by presence, i.e., the presence of immaterial forms to the spirit; however, the whole process of knowing likewise happens in and with the body because without sense and bodily activity in worldly life, the human soul is unable to realise the immaterial forms of its knowledge. This process of the substantial transformation (intiqāl al-jawharī) of the soul through knowledge and realisation, beginning at the lowest level of materiality, continues throughout the individual’s life until the body dies, and it is at this point that it achieves  – in radically differing ways from person to person  – an abstract, immaterial and spiritual state. The soul would have left its material form, which remains in the earthly state without the soul. After its bodily death, the soul departs for the realm of the spirit, although, as we have already discussed, it still retains the psychic ‘materiality’ appropriate to the intermediate existential state of the barzakh.5

112  Transcendent politics This does not mean that all – or even most – individuals will leave this world having achieved the culminating stage of spiritual perfection, but each will have achieved some degree of relative immateriality, whether in a fully human form or, due to repeatedly evil acts, in a much lower animal form.6 This part of Ṣadrā’s narrative on the procession of the soul’s transformation from the bodily state to the spiritual accords with his transcendent philosophy, whereby the human personality is shaped through knowledge, allows us to draw from it a model of ‘transcendent politics’ that includes both spiritual and socio-political activity. The personality thus defined can represent either the perfect human form, which is higher than the angels, or gravitate towards the form of an animal:7 Some people engage in acts of desire and vigorously seek the pleasures of eating, drinking, sexuality and fighting enemies. They do not think of prudence and the rational purpose of such activities, whereas the sages have concluded, on the basis of rational discourse, that the ultimate reason for the creation of the animal and vegetal powers [in the human being] is not limited to materiality. Rather, they have higher aims, which include the survival of the species, the realisation of an ordered harmony in the best possible form, and to reach the ultimate good and the Sovereignty Most High (al-Malakūt al-A‘lā). And this is what the perfect man seeks to achieve.8 The two aspects of the human being, the material and rational or spiritual elements, are present in every single individual. However, based on the dominant element, Ṣadrā points out that we may distinguish three basic types of people. There are those whose main desire is to satisfy their material appetites, neglecting spiritual sustenance. They may therefore seem abundant in terms of material gain but are spiritually weak. Then there are those ascetics whose main aim is to weaken their material attachment and isolate themselves from human society, out of fear that their spiritual state may suffer from temptation. There is yet another group, whose main aspiration is to remain in the world of the imagination and to follow the inclinations of that particular faculty.9 The ‘people of God’, or perfect human beings, should be open to the animal, imaginal and spiritual dimensions of their nature and be able to bring them together, so that they cooperate harmoniously and work towards the perfection of the highest ends. The Prophet Muhammad is the perfect example of this reconciliation, since for him the realities of both this world and the next are two aspects of one reality, the interior and exterior, unity and multiplicity, facing both the mulk (bodily creation) and the Malakūt (the Divine Dominion). The Prophet needs to have two [inner] eyes; one looking at the Creator [God] and His grace (‘ināyat) . . . and another looking at the creatures’ requirements. In the realm of the microcosm that is the worldly abode of mankind, the human being [to manage his worldly life] needs such a person whose faculties [at this stage of perfection] are in a mode of equilibrium (istiwā’ al-quwā), so he can reconcile among the people and correct their affairs (iṣlāḥ al-umūr).10

Transcendent politics  113 Like the Prophet, the sage needs these two aspects – an inner aspect open to the divine dimension and an outward aspect open to the realities of the world – in order to completely understand the human condition.11 This harmonious state of balance and perfection is the highest degree of humanity.12 As the Qur’an repeatedly emphasises in a number of dramatic passages describing the reactions of the angels and Iblis to the creation of Adam,13 the bodily nature of the soul in this world, concomitant with free will, rational choice and moral responsibility, is the main distinction between man and the angels. Both the human being and the angels have their origin and immaterial source in the same divine reality beyond time and space, unaffected by matter and the corporeal world. However, the human soul moves downward from the celestial realm to experience the scope of the material dimension in a bodily form, without which it would be impossible for it to act therein. This unique condition, epitomised in the figure of Adam, signifies the ‘comprehensiveness’ of man and is the very reason for his innate superiority over all other species, including the angels.14 Man’s descent from the incorporeal realm and subsequent ascent from within the corporeal world facilitates the acquisition of all the necessary attributes/perfections from the lower levels of existence in order to become a ‘comprehensive existent’ (wujūd al-jāmi‘). With this understanding of Ṣadrā’s doctrine on the ontological situation of mankind, we can now analyse the close reciprocal relationship between his philosophy of the soul and the politics that we draw from it. Man cannot complete his existence unless he experiences all the features, both inner and outer, of the microcosm. The inner aspects are fulfilled by psychoethical interaction and the outer aspects through socio-political challenges in this worldly life.

A mystical interpretation of the material world The end of philosophy is, for Ṣadrā, the formation of the character of the self through experience of the world, both externally and internally, throughout life. This occurs when the sage or true seeker of knowledge (‘ārif ) becomes aware of the ultimate reality that brings contentment of the heart and a presentiment of salvation, whose prerequisite is the practices of mysticism as a method of selfimprovement and enlightenment.15 Self-purification through asceticism – at a certain level – is also recommended by Imam ‘Ali as the ultimate aim of pedagogy in Islamic culture and essential for gaining divine knowledge.16 However, in Ṣadrā’s view, this is not merely for the sake of one’s own spiritual improvement but rather a virtuous quality to be disseminated more widely. For him, spiritual practice and at a broader-level philosophical paideia are not just a personal enterprise but a means of enabling the framework of the community. As such, the following passages will examine Ṣadrā’s mystical views on the material world (dunyā) and man’s role therein. Mullā Ṣadrā refers to three kinds of worlds: this world (dunyā),17 the world of immaterial substances (al-jawāhir al-mufāriq) and the next world (ākhira). He introduces the material world as a veil, a place of ignorance, darkness and torment

114  Transcendent politics in contrast with the next world, but emphasises how the one is a necessary prerequisite for the other.18 He also discusses human nature in terms of its creation, its life in the mundane world and its supra-mundane departure from it. His writings on the soul accordingly portray three stages of human life. With this in mind, he identifies two distinct realms of life, as well as its origin and destination.19 According to Islamic tradition, the dunyā has two different faces: one manifesting the beauty of worldly life and the other its ugliness, which determine either a better or worse state of human existence. One can be so deeply engaged in the world of matter that one thinks of nothing but material gain for its own sake, which for the most part leads people to become lost in the process and ignore their fellow men. This leads to poverty, injustice, corruption and oppression in society and finally to its destruction. Because of this, the dunyā is sometimes considered the cause of all kinds of dishonesty and immorality.20 The Qur’an (47:36) also equates it with frivolous and idle pleasure (lahw and la‘ib). Seen from this angle, the dunyā can draw people to personal gratification and material gain, diverting them from true transcendent pleasure and the rewards of eternal happiness.21 This, however, is not a complete picture. Life in the world can also help one to achieve happiness both in the here and now and to attain God’s good pleasure. In this sense, the dunyā is viewed as a bridge to the life of the Hereafter, for it is here that God provides the faithful believers with goodly provision by means of which they may seek happiness in both this world and the world to come. In the coming discussion, we attempt to articulate Ṣadrā’s discourse on the mystical aspect of this interpretation and how it intertwines with his political theories. According to Mullā Ṣadrā, all the characteristics of the material world  – its nature, culture, art, religion and divine law, including canonical rites – have both exterior (zāhir) and interior (bāṭin) dimensions.22 For example, the ­majestic ­exterior phenomena of the natural world – the light of the sun and the moon, mountains and seas, the seasonal cycles – are all means for contemplating interior ­realities, and mysticism and art are gateways to knowledge of the inner dimensions of nature. The phenomenal world contains signs (āyāt) of God, since the forms in the external world are mirrors of a reality that is at once inward and transcendent and that lead God’s servant to the inner, unseen world of ākhira. This inner dimension is the key to understanding metaphysics and traditional cosmology, as well as the essential meaning of all religion, for at the heart of every authentic religion lies the one Truth that resides at the heart of all things and, above all, of man. Concerning this mystical interpretation of the world, Ṣadrā says: Like the soul, which is the inner aspect of the person, the next world is the inner aspect of this world. It is difficult to understand another sphere or mode of existence [the inner aspect], because it is not conceivable through the external senses, so the people of imperfect intellect fail to understand the inner aspect of this world. This is why they are usually happy with this worldly life and its material enjoyments. As the Qur’an says: ‘Indeed those

Transcendent politics  115 who do not expect the meeting with Us and are satisfied with the life of this world and are content with it, and those who are neglectful of Our signs, their abode will be the Fire because of what they used to earn’ (10:7–8).23 There is another sphere of meaning within religion. For Ṣadrā, the religious law also has outer and inner dimensions, which conform with the sensible and the intelligible in human nature. This dual nature of the religious law is a defining characteristic: It should be known that everything has an inward aspect. The divine law, as a true reality which is revealed from the divine realm (‘ālam al-ulūhī), is more worthy of having an inward aspect than anything else. It is like a person who has an outward [nature] which is well-known and an inward [nature] which is concealed, and a ‘first’ which is sensible and a ‘last’ which is intelligible. This latter is his spirit and his meaning. His outward abides through his inward and his inward is personified by his outward. His first is a sustaining shell and his last is a pure engendered core. Whoever accepts the outward aspect of the divine realm without grasping its inward aspect is like a body without a soul and spirit.24 The various rites of the Shari‘a, such as the daily prayers (ṣalāt), fasting (ṣawm), the pilgrimage (ḥajj), the religious tax (zakāt) and the holy struggle (jihād), are all outward means by which man may achieve his final objective, but they also have inner levels of meaning that one may comprehend the quality of one’s faith (imān) and virtue or the truth of one’s inner reality. Ṣadrā emphasises that the performance of the outward aspects of the Shari‘a facilitate man to travel from the outward realm of matter to the inward realm of spirit and finally to reach the Truth (Ḥaqīqa) that lies at the heart of all things and yet that is beyond all determination and limitation.25 In al-Shawāhid al-Rubūbiyya, after discussing the two dimensions of prophecy and the divine law, he criticises those who only acknowledge the outward form of religious acts. He says: Whoever attends only to the outward aspect of the revelation and does not realise the inner, is like a body that moves without intention or will, or like a slaughtered bird which moves and jumps everywhere with no motive. Such a person performs the rituals and tolerates the religious duties, while he does not reap their benefits. Such acts of worship cannot support the doer to reach the divine realm and proximity to God, because like a body without any spirit, the outward aspect of rituals has a worldly and sensual nature which will be obliterated. Ritual done in this way is not only useless, but can even be harmful for the performer, because the performer may believe that he has a share of spirituality and perfection and become proud, while he has attained nothing and his spirit has not achieved any perfection. It is as if such a person tries to employ the divine law for his own worldly aims.26

116  Transcendent politics Conversely, in describing those philosophers and mystics who have chosen a life of asceticism, Ṣadrā says: Neither are those on the right path who have knowledge of the inner aspect of religion, but neglect the outward aspect of the divine law and pay little attention to religious service. They are like one who has removed his clothing so that others see his faults and ugliness. Such a person attempts to reach the inward aspect of the divine law without being outwardly committed to the Shari‘a. These people should know that they cannot grasp the real inner aspect of religion without passing through its outward form, and performing the rituals according to what God and His Prophet have recommended.27 Hence, only the individual who has fulfilled both the inner and the outer dimensions of the religion is on the path of prophecy that leads to real perfection in the Truth, since the way to the interior passes through the exterior.28 The soul’s higher level of consciousness is aware of the inner dimensions of the self, together with the outward, physical dimensions of the divine law and religious ritual. Ṣadrā criticises those Sufis who ignore the outer aspects of human life in general and the Shari‘a in particular. In his interesting elucidation of the process of the four spiritual journeys that encompass both the interior and exterior aspects of man’s spiritual experience, we discover the cornerstone of his politics: Know that the travellers (sālikīn) among the inspired knowers and saints have four journeys: one is the journey from the creation to the Truth; the second is the journey with the Truth in the Truth; the third journey corresponds to the first, because it is from the Truth to the creation with the Truth; and finally, the fourth journey in a sense corresponds to the first, as it is with the Truth in the creation.29 The essence of wayfaring at the corporeal stage, i.e., the journey from creation to the Truth, is that the wayfarer brings his body and soul under the dominion of faith according to the law, both physically and spiritually, and gradually prepares for annihilation in God’s domain. In order to achieve this goal, in the second journey, the wayfarer must focus on the inner dimension and distance himself from other people. After a period of separation and repose in the divine realm, in order to find the true path, he again returns to the people (the third journey) to help them because the true spiritual traveller, after completing the journey to God, should seek to perfect God’s servants, thereby embarking upon the proper reconstitution of society. It is then that the wayfarer manifests all God’s Names and Attributes, since he reflects all aspects of existence: the spiritual and material, unity and multiplicity, the inner and the outer, and finally, at the end of the fourth journey, he is with the Truth amongst the people.30 This world and its exterior dimensions – of both its nature and its knowledge31 – should be considered as a path towards the inward, which leads the wayfarer to real happiness. Attending to the affairs of this world can be virtuous and good and should be regarded a means for perfection by passing beyond the exterior.

Transcendent politics  117 Ṣadrā explains that the assimilation of the two outer aspects of nature and knowledge helps people to distance themselves from corruption and gain moral virtue, to perfect themselves and finally to reach the divine realm. In its process of substantial change, the human soul moves from the corporeal in order to detach from the multiplicity of matter and attain the pure unity of spirituality. The role of the divine law is to help mankind reconcile the inner and outer aspects of the material world: The purpose of the divine law is for human desires to serve human reason in order to pass through multiplicity and reach unity; to pass from the outer aspect of this world to the inner and from the realm of sense to the realm of reason.32 Since the journey passes through the material world, the fact of being amongst people and dealing with political matters (the knowledge of management) is also a stratum of the material world which the wayfarer has to experience. In this way, the human soul may digest sensible knowledge and rise to the higher realms to the imaginal and the intelligible while residing within the world of sensibilia. At the final stage, the wayfarer mediates between the intelligible and sensible domains of being and knowledge, since he belongs to both, and so is perfectly enabled to reconcile spiritual/intellectual knowledge with worldly/sensible knowledge. It is the stage where he can maintain worldly affairs whilst keeping in sight his spiritual goal in the next world:33 The perfection and maintenance of worldly affairs is one of man’s basic goals. To complete his journey towards the Truth, he should pass through this station in order to continue to the journey ‘with the Truth in the Truth’, and thence the journey ‘from the Truth to the people’ (min al-ḥaqq ila al-khalq) in order to resolve the issue of the resurrection.34 Having explained Ṣadrā’s mystical conception of the interior and exterior aspects of the human psyche, nature and knowledge, we come to one of the most important conclusions in our study: that in his philosophy there is a ‘correspondence’ between psychology, epistemology and ontology, and on the spiritual journey the wayfarer in fact travels from the exterior to the interior aspects of existence in all three realms. Considering Ṣadrā’s doctrine on knowledge as discussed in Chapter 2, through a substantial change from body to spirit, man gradually realises the inner aspects of his existence and the world and gains an inner understanding of his soul, nature and religion. Through this realisation, the human soul can gradually achieve the perfection of existence from the lowest to the highest state, whilst maintaining an intermediary level between the unseen (ghayb) and the seen (shuhū), whereby he executes worldly activity and life in society whilst progressing on the spiritual journey. This distinctive narrative of four spiritual journeys leads me to insert Ṣadrā’s mysticism into my discourse on his political philosophy.

118  Transcendent politics

Ṣadrā’s approach to politics The following discussion seeks to define the science of politics and some key political concepts in Ṣadrā’s philosophy. I will present compelling evidence that he was indeed concerned with politics and social matters, which challenges the supposition that Ṣadrā was an apolitical philosopher.35 For a better understanding of what is different about Ṣadrā’s own definition of politics, we will outline the views of his predecessors on this issue. Our discussion will also point out some of his new ideas, where he speaks of the necessity of life in society and suggests a different definition of politics, expressing his overall strategy with respect to social and political activity. We explained that, for Ṣadrā, man’s true happiness (sa‘ādat al-ḥaqīqyya)36 lies in his success on the spiritual journey, which provides everyone with an opportunity to attain the substantial perfection of the soul. The ultimate end of this substantial perfection is nearness to or annihilation in God (fanā’ fi Allah).37 To attain such a noble state, one must follow both the divine law (qānūn alshari‘a) and one’s sound intellect (‘aql al-salīm),38 including the intuitive and the practical intellect. Ṣadrā describes this intellect as an inner law of divine subtlety (shari‘a al-bāṭiniyya wa latīfat al-rabāniyya).39 The following discussion focuses on Ṣadrā’s writings on the confluence of the divine law and the human intellect, but before that, we need to examine how he might define the science of politics. While there are original political ideas in his philosophy, he was also influenced by Fārābī. In his definition of the science of politics – despite a Neoplatonic revision and his tendency to harmonise the views of Plato and Aristotle – Fārābī is predominantly influenced by Plato.40 Nevertheless, the Muslim classification of the political sciences (‘ilm al-sīyāsa) is mostly based upon the Aristotelian system, in which politics is regarded as a practical science. Aristotle defines politics as ‘the most authoritative of the sciences’, which determines man’s ‘happiness’ as the ‘supreme good’ and teaches the means to its attainment.41 This is but an elaboration of Plato’s words in the Politikos, that ‘there is one science of all of them: and this science may be called royal or political or economical.’42 According to a majority of Muslim philosophers,43 political science, like medicine, has two parts: the first theoretical, as in Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, and the other practical, as in Aristotle’s Politics and Plato’s Republic. The first and second parts of this science stand in the same relationship to each other as do the books Health and Illness and the Preservation of Health and the Removal of Illness in medicine.44 This is an echo of Fārābī’s definition in his Iḥṣā’ al-‘Ulūm45 and shows how Fārābī introduced Platonic ideas into Muslim thought in terms of their Hellenistic meaning. Fārābī says that ‘political science’ inquires into various conscious, volitional actions and ways of life, and the habits, mores, and n­ atural dispositions that produce them, yet politics as such does more, since delving into man’s volitions is meant to direct him to true happiness (sa‘āda) through right action.46 Moreover, true happiness is to be distinguished from the supposed ­happiness that consists of wealth, honour or pleasure. Virtue and good deeds

Transcendent politics  119 promote true happiness in the city-state or nation by promoting orderly cooperation between its citizens and authority.47 We can see that the legacy of the political philosophy of Plato and Aristotle within Greek and Islamic philosophy, as understood by Fārābī in his Kitāb Taḥṣīl al-Sa‘āda and accepted by successive Muslim philosophers, is devoted to investigating the theoretical aspect of the highest good in terms of volitional actions that lead to happiness.48 In his al-Taḥṣīl, Fārābī asserts that it is natural for man to strive for perfection. The highest perfection is unattainable without the help of others within society; therefore, another science is needed to examine these rational principles in the light of human necessities in association, namely, a ‘human’ or ‘political’ science. Man, having satisfied his bodily needs, turns to metaphysical speculation and begins to return to that which is beyond the material body and physical things (ba‘da al-ṭabi‘iyyāt).49 The highest perfection is speculative and ultimately leads to the perception of the first principle (mabda’ al-awwal), the highest degree of which is the unity of the Active Intellect or God. Political science looks at the association of structures through which each citizen might achieve the happiness to which his natural disposition is conditioned as a human being. Unity with the Active Intellect, or God as the ultimate happiness, is the common ground between Greek and Muslim political philosophers and is facilitated by the law, which has a central place in the political thought of Plato and Aristotle, as well as in that of Fārābī, Ibn Sīnā and Ibn Rushd. This means that the study of the Republic, the Laws and the Nicomachean Ethics led Muslim philosophers to grasp more fully the political characteristics implied in the Shari‘a of Islam.50 Hence, revelation is for them not simply a direct communication between God and man or a dialogue with a personal God of Love but rather also a valid and binding code for man, who must live in society and be organised politically in a state in order to fulfil his destiny. In short, it is the law of the ideal state. Despite the centrality of the law, Muslim philosophers were conscious of the fundamental difference between the law revealed by God to the Prophet and the nomos, the manmade law of Greek philosophy that was designed to enable the philosopher to reach the highest perfection. Ibn Rushd provides remarkable arguments in support of his thesis that a divinely ordained law is indispensable for a life of virtue in this world and happiness in the next and that such law ‘cannot be learnt by means of human instruction, art or philosophy’ but through revelation only. He sees many similarities between the Shari‘a and Plato’s general laws (interpreted with the help of Aristotle), but his conviction is that the divine law is nevertheless superior to the nomos. Following Ibn Rushd, there are vast and very controversial discussions among Muslim thinkers on the relation of the human intellect and revelation, which are beyond the scope of the present study.51 Returning to our discussion of Ṣadrā’s view on the science of politics, he follows the traditional division of human knowledge into theoretical and practical knowledge. Because of the relevance of practical knowledge, whose subject is the human soul, to behaviour and morality, it consists of three types. The first, concerning the individual, is ethics and is responsible for the reform of human

120  Transcendent politics character. Decisions that do not relate solely to the individual but are held in common with others are either in the domain of the household and family or in that of society as a whole and are respectively home management and economics (al-tadbīr al-manzil) and politics (sīyāsa).52 Like Plato, Aristotle and Fārābī, as well as other Muslim philosophers, Ṣadrā believed that politics is the science of the management of society based upon law, according to which the people may live together in order to achieve true ‘happiness’ in this world and the world to come.53 However, with his own mysticphilosophical principles, he attempts to explain how both rational and revealed laws work together to bring about individual and social cohesion and provide the ground for the higher aims of the human being. Statements throughout Ṣadrā’s different works appear to suggest that the Islamic elements are of major importance in his political philosophy, such as guidance (hidāyat) on the straight path (al-ṣirāt al-mustaqīm) – with its Shi‘i definition, of course54 – which would result in a successful journey through the three realms of existence by constant substantial development, and the yearning to achieve nearness to God (qurb ila Allah) or annihilation in Him (al-fanā’ fīh) as the highest level of happiness (sa‘ādat al-quṣwā):55 The three realms [sensibilia, imaginalia and intelligibilia], from beginning to end, are various stages of man’s spiritual journey from one world to the next, in order to transform from the lowest animal level to the highest level of the angelic realm, until he reaches the stage of the ‘lover of God’ and ‘annihilation in Him’.56 With this as a paradigm, all the social and political elements we study in his thought should be defined within the framework of spirituality and man’s intellectual perfection. For example, this-worldly science as well as that of divine knowledge should, in Ṣadrā’s thought, assist everyone in finding a true path to the understanding of reality. Knowledge of the right path is the divine knowledge that emanates from God, the Prophet and the Imams to any person whose soul seeks the Truth. According to Ṣadrā, everyone may freely choose from two paths: the path to God and the path to Satan. The path to God is the path of peace and happiness, the state of spiritual union (al-maqām al-jam‘) and annihilation in the divine realm. The path to Satan is the path of distraction in material multiplicity, and its fruits are unbelief, corruption and Hell:57 The dignity and exaltation of man depends upon the level of his knowledge. Imam ‘Ali says: ‘People are the offspring of their thoughts and beliefs.’58 Therefore, a person’s character is the outcome of his understanding and knowledge. He is always between two ranks: either he behaves like a human being with human attitudes, or he has a savage soul (al-nasf al-sabu‘ī) like the lion and the tiger. There are also different levels amongst the angels. Some are earthly angels and some of them are celestial angels. All these stages – animal, human or angelic – can be different stages for one entity, for example,

Transcendent politics  121 the human being, who, by moving [along his path] from the stage of animality to the stage of humanity, travels from one realm to another until he reaches the realm of divinity, in which he will be the lover of God.59 Having considered the significance of the soul’s transformation throughout the stages of existence, Ṣadrā defines the science of politics as follows: Politics is a science whose beginning is the individual (mabda’uhā nafsun juz’iyya) – depending on the good choices of the individual – through which the soul and its faculties facilitate transformation [from the lowest stage to a higher one] and [finally] come together (yajma‘) for the sake of the common good.60 Ṣadrā uses the term ‘beginning’ (mabda’uhā) to refer to how social life is necessary for experiencing the material realm in the best possible manner, so that man may proceed on the true path and complete the spiritual journey. According to this political understanding, the state assists people to actualise the potential of their abilities within society and ascend to the highest level of existence: The human being is a creature whose vanity may govern his other aspects, even though this attribute harms other people and even the whole community (umma); therefore if there were no government (ḥukūmat) that caused him to behave on the basis of a law of justice (al-qānūn al-‘adl), then living in this world would be very difficult and anarchy would ensue. The government is to take the responsibility of leading the people to justice. The government must manage the affairs of people in order to support their rights, their properties and their lands. Lacking such a government causes disorder in society, where the people fight with each other. Fighting amongst the people distracts them from attending to God, worshipping Him and executing their spiritual journeys.61 Hence, spiritual perfection cannot be achieved by living solely as a recluse. The human being is a social creature, so in the project of substantial perfection, he must respond to this innate requirement: The human being is madaniyyat bi-ṭab‘, and without civilisation (tamadun), society (al-ijtimā‘) and cooperation (ta‘āwun) his worldly life will not be managed.62 Having underlined this point, he says that not only does man need society for his perfection, but society is also in need of the perfect man in order to fulfil its sociopolitical goals. In other words, life and work in the world are essentially a kind of internal drive towards organisation in order to maintain society. Man is a complex creature composed of the different aspects of reason, soul and the material body. Human reason requires spiritual perfection, the soul requires peace, and the body

122  Transcendent politics has physical desires and needs.63 All these requirements are attainable with the appropriate interaction within society: It goes without saying that human beings cannot obtain the perfections for which they have been created unless they live together, so that each may help the other at the time of need, and through their coming together everything required for man’s access to perfection will emerge.64 Before Ṣadrā, Fārābī had discussed the mutual relationship between man’s happiness and the perfect society, as well as its role in civilisation. He identifies three perfect types of society and grades them according to size. His ideal city is that which wholeheartedly embraces the pursuit of goodness and happiness and compares its statutes to the limbs that function in a perfectly healthy body. In contrast, as I will discuss in Chapter 6 on the virtuous city, Fārābī identifies four different types of corrupt city. The souls of many of the inhabitants of such cities face ultimate extinction, while those who have been the cause of their fall face eternal torment.65 In itemising these four corrupt states, Fārābī was surely aware of Plato’s own fourfold division of the imperfect society in the Republic: timarchy, oligarchy, democracy and tyranny. The perfect or virtuous society (al-ijtimā‘ al-fāḍila) is defined as that in which people cooperate to achieve happiness, but this only occurs when all the constituent inhabitants work towards the perfection of their souls as well. Walzer reminds us that both Plato and Aristotle held that supreme happiness was only to be gained by those who philosophised in the right manner. Fārābī followed the Greek paradigm and the highest rank of happiness was allocated to his perfect society whose citizenry’s souls were ‘united as it were with the Active Intellect’.66 Ṣadrā’s view on the life of society (ḥayāt al-jam‘ī) has the foregoing elements of Greek and Farabian political philosophy, but he places all these elements within his mystical hypotheses on the spiritual journey. Like Fārābī, Ṣadrā believes that there is a link between the human tendency towards perfection and the enrichment of society, and for him, it is one of the most significant elements that distinguishes mankind. The existence of this tendency accordingly suggests that people show interest in politics in order to explore their social nature in a better way. Otherwise, there would be no actively useful involvement as such, nor would there be any need to strive for beauty and perfection if man were not a social being by nature.67 Seen from another angle, there would be no use for human society if there were no interest in its perfection and development, an interest that has appeared as a living characteristic of human society since the dawn of civilisation. The most civilised societies display a stronger interest in culture, beauty and advancement and produce more creative and skilful works by virtue of this natural inclination: There is no doubt that man cannot attain his spiritual perfection without living in society as a group. In society, everyone needs each other so that they may help each other to prepare what they require for the survival of mankind.68

Transcendent politics  123 Ṣadrā says that God has made provision in nature for the survival of each person, as well as for all mankind, in that He provides food, shelter, clothing and so forth.69 He has also given man instinctive tendencies towards these necessities, in addition to the means to satisfy them. God has through revelation also prepared rules appropriate for certain activities such as marriage, trade and the different types of leadership and service necessary for the survival of mankind: The Lawgiver (Shāri‘) has protected the social life of the human being by revealing the necessary laws relating to the preservation of the order of society (ḥifzu nazm al-ijtimā‘) and by motivating the people through jihād to protect their country [from enemies].70 He then says that the archetype of man is not exclusive to one individual (naw‘uhū ghayru munḥaṣirin fi al-fard) and that the perfection of mankind in general involves its gathering together, which accounts for the instinctive tendency to form social units. For Ṣadrā, this is one of the main reasons that man is a social creature by nature. Accordingly, in various places he argues that mankind does not and cannot live in the world other than through social cooperation.71 In Shawāhid al-Rubūbiyya, he gives certain other reasons why man chooses to live collectively: Obviously, if like an animal, the human being were all by himself, trying to satisfy his needs without the cooperation of others, he would not manage his life, since he has to seek assistance from someone of his kind who, in turn, has to seek assistance from someone like him. Thus, one plants the seeds for the other, and the other mills the crop for him. One does business, another bakes bread and another makes clothes. One is a builder and one is a blacksmith. In this way, as long as they live together, they can satisfy each other’s requirements, and that is why man needs to build cities, form communities, enter trade, get married and take part in other cooperative activities. In sum, man has to live cooperatively to survive, and this cooperation will not be complete unless there is transaction; and for satisfactory transaction, one should obey the tradition, the law of justice and fair policies (sīyāsat al-‘adl).72 Elsewhere he says: The human being as individual is not a sufficient creation to survive, because its archetype is not created as only one man, rather it is created for many, therefore the species of man can survive only if it lives (ya‘īsh) with others in a civilisation and society.73 Comparing society to a healthy body, he says: A perfect society,74 like a healthy body whose organs and parts cooperate harmoniously with each other, assists the citizens to work together and bring about wealth, peace and happiness for each other.75

124  Transcendent politics Therefore, according to Mullā Ṣadrā, the human being is civic by nature. He believes that human life cannot develop without mutual cooperation in a safe community. Towns and cities have been established because individuals cannot survive alone: Man is a civil being by nature; his life is not organised without civilisation and cooperation in a community, because the human species is not just one individual instance, and as an individual he cannot exist without living with others. Therefore, the different villages, towns and cities have been built to enable the human species to survive.76 According to Ṣadrā, the most perfect society is the largest one. The large community (al-ijtimā’ al-‘uzmā) encompasses multiplicity and diversity in a single ‘cooperative system’, i.e., as an ummat al-wāḥida, in which the people have mutual emotional, cultural, intellectual and spiritual connections. Applying his ontological discourse, which we addressed in Chapter  2, in this instance, he stresses that ‘unity’, as a state of being, is basically the perfection of multiplicity because multiplicity is manifested in a more unified form at a higher stage of its existence. Therefore, the unity of a larger society would be stronger and more perfect than unity in a small community.

Politics and the Shari‘a Mullā Ṣadrā is a rational philosopher who, by an esoteric interpretation of the sacred text, attempted to reconcile religion with the human intellect. As we explained in Chapter 1, this approach towards religion provoked the hostility of traditionalists. However, when he speaks of the divine law, he seems to fully support it as opposed to secular law, but he is nevertheless faithful to his philosophical principles and implements his rational methodology in terms of the divine law as well. The following is my analysis of Ṣadrā’s discourse regarding the application of reason to divine law and of the place practical law occupies in the daily management of society. According to Muslim jurists, Islam is a religious way of life that encompasses all diverse elements in a certain unity of outlook bound together by the common belief in God and his Prophet. The exemplary life of the Prophet, his Sunna, and the hadiths of the twelve Imams of Shi‘ism, together with the Qur’an, are perfect sources for discerning the law for mankind at any time and place. Ibn Khaldūn outlined very well the major context for Sunni theologians and jurists on Shari‘a as the law of the state: The laws [of the state] were laid down by God through a [divinely commanded] lawgiver. It is a religious administration (sīyāsat al-dīniyya) of use for this world and the next. This means that this world alone is not man’s aim, for it is altogether useless and vain, seeing that its end is death and destruction. . . . Therefore man’s aim is religion which leads him to happiness in the next world as the way to Allah who owns everything in heaven and on earth

Transcendent politics  125 (Qur’an, 9:116). . . . [T]he lawgiver knows best what is of advantage to the people in matters of the hereafter which are hidden from them . . . [T]he intention of the lawgiver is the welfare of man in the hereafter, and it is necessary, in accordance with the religious laws, to bind the people to the ordinances of the Shari‘a in the affairs of their life in this world and in the world to come.77 According to the majority Sunni theologians and jurists, Shari‘a must be implemented in any perfect state. This idea is theorised and supported extensively by Abu al-Hasan al-Māwardī (d. 450/1058) in his al-Aḥkām al-Sulṭāniyya and then promoted two centuries later by Ibn Taymiyya (d. 723/1328).78 Ibn Taymiyya created the conditions necessary for the reconstitution of a Muslim community guided by the Sunna of the Prophet. By his attempt to reform and reinstate the essential Muslim virtues and duties, he pointed beyond the existence of the already more than shadowy caliphate to a new relationship, a new bond between the umma and Shari‘a. The vitality and, indeed, the survival of Islam depend on a Muslim community closely knit together by a law that works. In this model of the religious community, the Shari‘a is to be the authoritative law governing the community on the very basis of Islam as a religious and political unity.79 Like the Sunnis, the Shi‘i theologians and jurists introduced the Shari‘a as the law of the state. It is the lawgiver’s favour (luṭf ) to the people in order to manage individual and social affairs in the best possible way. However, according to Shi‘ism, the twelve Imams following after the Prophet have the full authority to explain and interpret the Shari‘a. The imamate is inseparable from walāya, i.e., the esoteric function of interpreting the inner mysteries of the Qur’an and the Shari‘a.80 For Shi‘ism, the successor of the Prophet rules over the community with justice and is able to interpret the divine law and its esoteric meaning. Hence, he must be impeccable (ma‘sūm), i.e., free from error and sin.81 Due to the importance of ‘being just’ as a condition for any successor of the imams, the Shi‘i ‘ulama’ throughout the history have not usually supported the state. The position of Shari‘a law, however, is seen from a different perspective by Muslim philosophers. They attempt a synthesis of reason with a Greek philosophical background and Islamic law. With considerable differences among Muslim thinkers in the reception of Plato and Aristotle’s political philosophy, they make this attempt as philosophers and students of Aristotle’s theoretical and Plato’s practical philosophy, rather than as Sunni or Shi‘i theologians or jurists. Nevertheless, their metaphysical standpoint is not one of complete independence but is conditioned by the Shari‘a of Islam. Therefore, in dealing with the political philosophy of Fārābī, Ibn al-Rushd and Ibn Sīnā, for example, are convinced that they are primarily Muslim philosophers and followers of their masters Plato and Aristotle in a secondary fashion. Two independent worlds of the spirit meet in their minds, and they attempt to harmonise revelation, in the form of prophetic law, with reason, in the form of the nomos of the Greek city state, but if priorities are to be established, supremacy belongs to the revealed law of Islam. In Plato’s Republic, the philosopher-king rules by means of the nomos, the best law reason can devise. The Shari‘a-based state was for Muslim philosophers the ideal state of Islam, as

126  Transcendent politics the Republic was for Plato the ideal state of the philosopher. At the same time, the Prophet is superior to the philosopher, at least for Ibn Sīnā and Ibn Rushd.82 For Ṣadrā, the Shari‘a guarantees the unity of Islam under the overall authority of the divine law because it secures man from the blemish of obeying the self and serving carnal desires and hidden polytheism (shirk al-khafī): Even the pious, devout person, if he is not equipped with indubitable knowledge, and if his endeavours are not supported by the divine law, would not have the purity of the divine intention, which is the main purpose and natural objective of the creation of man. . . . If one wants the drink of one’s love of God to be free from impurities and to have a pure divine intention, he should not ignore acquiring the indubitable knowledge [i.e., divine knowledge by practising the divine law], otherwise he will not be secure from the blemish of obeying the self and serving the carnal desires and hidden polytheism.83 According to Ṣadrā, without laws to implement justice, it is impossible to have a fully-developed society. If a group that gathers into a community is not committed to various types of social rules, it will not live in peace, as material interests often provoke various forms of discord and rancour. In order to maintain harmony, society must have a set of rules to avert conflicting interests should they arise: To live in a safe society, people need to have laws and social rules. Since people innately like justice, they like to be served and judged by just laws.84 There are two essential questions. The first is about which laws should be implemented in society, and the second is to discern how and who can interpret the revealed law if there is a dispute concerning its content. Ṣadrā’s answer to the first question is the divine law, but as will be explained, his understanding of divine law is evidently far from that of the jurists and theologians.85 According to Ṣadrā, the divine law is the spirit of politics (rūḥ al-sīyāsa)86 because life has to be regulated in a way that citizens are able to prepare themselves for the world to come in willing submission to the will of God, as laid down in the ‘true religion’ (al-dīn al-ḥanīf ). He uses ‘true religion’ to distinguish divinely revealed religion from an invented quasi-religion or ‘false religion’ (bid‘a). For him, religion must come from God, and its content and role in individual and social life has to be revealed by Him to the prophets:87 Sometimes appetite and passion dominate people and bring in their wake antagonism and exclusion. Hence, as there are inevitably transactions and relations between people, there should be a lawgiver (shāri‘), chosen by God, and granted with reason (‘aql) and miracles (mu‘jiza), so that people may refer to him [the lawgiver] in order to avoid anarchy.88 The general principles of a divine religion consist of faith in God and what He has revealed to His prophets. These principles accord with man’s intrinsic nature and

Transcendent politics  127 meet his needs for perfection and happiness. Ṣadrā criticises secular politics and its laws. In this context, he posits sīyāsa against Shari‘a.89 The law must be derived from the divine, since its focus is not just on material life (ḥayāt al-dunyawī) and its preservation but is more comprehensive, catering to both the outer and inner natures of mankind.90 What seems significant here is that, despite his commitment and devotion to religion and the divine law, Ṣadrā never ignores the importance of human reason in legitimating the social order. This, of course, is based on his assumption that the human intellect not only does not conflict with the true religious law but rather is the sole and the best interpreter of revelation and the divine law. From Ṣadrā’s discourse, we can also find the answer to the second question: God leaves vast areas for man to develop through his reason in his own worldly life and in that of society, and therefore we can use reason, education and the correct philosophical tradition in such a way as to distance ourselves from the great majority of profane human activities. In his discourse on the authority of the human intellect, Ṣadrā compares intellectual inspiration, or intuition, with prophetic revelation (al-waḥy al-nabawī), when he considers to what extent each may be used for understanding both the inner and outer meanings of religion. The outcome of his analysis of the human intellect and its relationship with the divine law is that he gives great authority to human reason. Mullā Ṣadrā is known as a philosopher who attempted a new way of reconciling human reason and revelation. Nevertheless, even when he uses Qur’anic verses and religious ideas, he is in fact always dedicated to reasoning and intellectual proofs. As for mysticism, his extensive use of mystical methodology and intuition relies on human reasoning as well. Intuition is the inspiration of the soul and direct knowledge but still ‘a higher form of reason’ in the Platonic sense.91 Influenced by Ibn al-‘Arabī, the pivotal place of intuition in Ṣadrā’s philosophical methodology is due to the fact that he believes Ibn al-‘Arabī’s mystical method has a philosophical character with a ‘demonstrative force’.92 Whether we understand Mullā Ṣadrā’s use of intuition as ‘a higher form of reason’ in the ­Platonic sense or as a prophetic experience that turns philosophy into ‘theosophy’,93 in reality there is no actual separation between reason, intuition and revelation in his philosophy. Rather than considering ratiocination  (i.e., the process of exact thinking) and intuition as independent ways leading to different visions of the truth, for him they are the understanding of the human reason at different stages of soul’s perfection, so they merge into one path, complementing and completing one another. This was, of course, contrary to the methodology of the zāhiriyyūn (literalists) and many jurists.94 Having considered the concept of the twofold meaning of scripture, we must accept that religion, including the Shari‘a, speaks in metaphors and parables for the masses who are only capable of understanding them literally. The deeper meaning is accessible only to those who are able to discover the inner meaning of the Qur’an and the Shari‘a by their intellect: Most, even all of those who have appointed themselves a state of guidance and the caliphate in this age are foolish and ignorant of the methods of intellectual

128  Transcendent politics knowledge and divine law, and the perfection of the soul in steadfastness and righteousness. Most of them deny the perceptive forms and close the gates of knowledge and science, which are forms of the external realities, on the basis that this action of the seeker will distance him from directing his attention to the effusive Principle. Nor do they know that separating the intellectual, illusive and imaginative preceptors and faculties totally from their agents and effects is impossible.95 The key to understanding the relation of the human intellect to the revealed law is ‘human wisdom’. Indeed, the wise person is the one who knows the divine realities and has lordly knowledge by way of rational proof that leads to certainty, and the ancient Greek philosophers are good examples of wise people, for whom he expresses his admiration: Socrates was another sage characterised with wisdom who came after Pythagoras. He learned wisdom from Pythagoras and among its different branches limited himself to divine knowledge. Plato, the sage, comes after him and is described as having wisdom. He was of noble ancestry and was most outstanding. He, in line with Socrates, took wisdom from Pythagoras, but did not limit himself to divine knowledge, but added all species of the natural sciences and mathematics to it.96 With wisdom, the politician would understand the truth, justice and the people. It combats lust, recalcitrance and greed and maintains the soul above fault. The wise politician is benevolent to compassionate people and reprimands tyrants and the arrogant.97 Having made these specifications of wisdom, Ṣadrā says all this is mentioned by the divine Plato (Aflaṭūn al-ilāhī) in his Republic: The most Exalted God in describing such people has said: [They] are hard against the faithless and merciful amongst themselves (Qur’an, 48: 29). And he should have other attributes and conditions which have been mentioned and enumerated by the divine Plato in his Republic.98 In conclusion, we may say that Ṣadrā’s theological and mystical arguments, instead of depending merely on jurisprudence, rely on his own philosophical demonstration (burhān), as he always maintains that there is, in fact, no actual separation between reason, intuition and revelation. This level of understanding is called ‘wisdom’ (ḥikmat), and through wisdom, the politician would comprehend the foundation of true happiness for the nation and would be able to bring about justice for its citizens. Wise politicians and citizens would understand that life in the world to come is a continuance of this world, and the unseen (ghayb) is not separate from the visible (shahāda), nor this world from the Hereafter. Thus religion as the spirit of politics itself serves mankind for a happy life and a successful journey towards annihilation in God.

Transcendent politics  129

The relationship between secular politics and the divine law In the previous discussion, I put forward the claim that Ṣadrā never negates political principles constructed by reasoning based on human intuition. Nor does he negate a human worldview whereby man intrinsically possesses the rational ability to manage his worldly life. Hence the social law in Ṣadrā’s political thought derives from both the human intellect and revelation. The following discussion centres on the confluence of human reason and revelation and on the share of each of them in the management of society. According to Ṣadrā, the divine law is the prophetic revelation of God’s various commands and prescriptions for man’s individual conduct and life within society. Throughout his work, Ṣadrā distinguishes between the common conception of the science of politics with its man-made or secular law, and the divine law:99 Some philosophers believed that there is no difference between the Shari‘a and sīyāsa (politics) [in this context, secular politics], and Plato [rightly] explained the errors of their view. There may be few differences between them, but the most obvious is that sīyāsa is always imperfect, so needs development through time and by perfecting the human intellect, while the Shari‘a is perfect and its rules are universal.’100 In another section, he categorises prophecy, the divine law and politics under the three disciplines of theology, jurisprudence and politics. In al-Shawāhid al-Rubūbiyya, with reference to Plato,101 Ṣadrā mentions the following distinctions between the Shari‘a and politics as generally understood:102 1

2

3

The instigator of the Shari‘a is God [Ṣadrā uses the term ‘Divine Soul’ (Rūh al-Ilāhī) for Shari‘a], whereas politics has its origin in the human intellect, which is influenced by man’s affections and motivations. Accordingly, the Shari‘a must guide the political order, and in order to establish political order within society, politicians must give appropriate consideration to the divine law and lead the people to an understanding of its commands and prohibitions. The Shari‘a draws people to God’s message, protects them from the extremes of excess and deficiency (al-ifrāṭ wa al-tafrīṭ) and warns them of harmful tendencies and vices such as arrogance, anger and envy. The main features of the Shari‘a are comprehensiveness, integrity and necessity, but politics, since it refers to particulars and depends upon circumstances, lacks these characteristics. Hence, the divine lawgiver has certain ‘oughts’ and ‘ought nots’ concerning fixed situations and conditions, whereas the politician considers provisional ‘oughts’ and ‘ought nots’ in accordance with a particular political and social climate. The divine law is a favour and mercy from God that considers both the inner and outward aspects of human life. It is established in order to articulate the requirements of the exterior (worldly) aspect of human life with the purpose of reaching the interior aspect, while politics and its secular

130  Transcendent politics

4

law are directed only upon the exterior. The combination of the two can bring safety, security, peace and happiness to society. If politics is not coordinated with the divine prescriptions of the Shari‘a, then human desire ­governs reason. The effects of political legislation (al-amr al- sīyāsa) on the people are minimal (juz’ī), imperfect (nāqiṣ) and impermanent (mustabqāt). In order to complete a perfecting role, they should be complemented by the Shari‘a, because the recommended actions in the Shari‘a are adequate for perfection. Secular political legislation cannot effectively influence the essence of the soul and is therefore ephemeral, while the recommendations of the divine law can have a spiritual influence on the essence of the soul. For example, the person who performs rituals could comprehend the sublime wisdom of doing so and thus submits and performs them through faith. If he performs them with this intention, then he will profit from the benefits, but when the political system asks him to perform a certain act, then he does so for worldly motives (‘aql al-ma‘āsh); therefore there is no perfecting outcome for his soul, or in fact any essential effect on his character.103

The foregoing points concerning the divine law implies that, for Ṣadrā, any politics that distances itself from divine wisdom and revelation cannot result in happiness in both this world and the next:104 The purpose of the Shari‘a and the divine commands and prohibitions is for the visible realm to serve the unseen, the passions to serve the intellect, particulars to return to universals, and for this world to return to the next world.’105 Ṣadrā hence illustrates the relation between the Shari‘a and politics to that of the body and spirit: The relationship between politics and the Shari‘a is like that between the body and the spirit. Politics without the Shari‘a is like a body with no life.106 Nevertheless, and after all this, Ṣadrā’s rational philosophy led him to formulate the principles of interaction between the intellect and religion as the foundation of his socio-political ideas. For Ṣadrā, the secular human science of social management, by formulating a social framework for people’s temporal concerns, can provide opportunities for humanity to use this-worldly facilities and possibilities. The Shari‘a and the human intellect, which he usually called wisdom, are two sides of one coin. In his account concerning the confluence of revelation and human reason, Ṣadrā says: As intuitive knowledge is in accordance with revelation, and never contradicts it, he who follows the divine prophets obeys the judgements of the intellect and will not violate them.107

Transcendent politics  131 In al-Shawāhid al-Rubūbiyya, he summarises his discourse on politics as a human science: [Secular] politics is a science of social order by which man can evolve in society. It is based upon the best method of organising all the scattered facilities in order to achieve perfection.108

Summary and conclusion In the previous chapter, we mentioned that Ṣadrā’s main political concern is man’s contentment and perfection, which is nearness to (qurb ilā) or annihilation in God (al-fanā’ fī Allah) in both this and the next world. This is the destination of the fourth and final stage of the spiritual journey to the Truth and can be fulfilled whilst among the people and serving them without any interruption between one and the other. At this stage, man knows the inner meaning of the divine law whilst he still practises outward religious rituals according to the Shari‘a. In this chapter, we explained how human reason has significant authority. Ṣadrā’s central argument is that it is through the intellect that man understands the truth, or revelation itself, and, more importantly, its inner meaning. True knowledge of both reality and religion is called ma‘rifa, which is the result of the purification of the soul, a successful spiritual journey. Mullā Ṣadrā also calls this knowledge ‘transcendent wisdom’ (al-ḥikmat al-muta‘āliyya). With respect to the practical sciences, in particular politics, although secular politics and human reason should be at the service of divinity and conform with the Shari‘a, both religion and human reason (‘aql) should comprise the source of the law. Given Ṣadrā’s words on the authority of human reason in politics, there seems to be compelling evidence that a political system with no recourse to the human intellect or a true understanding of the inner meanings of religion can neither bring mankind happiness nor adapt to the requirements of changing circumstances. I would describe this type of compromise between reason and religion as a ‘religious secularism’ of sorts. The term ‘secularism’ could be defined in three distinct ways, one of which is atheistic, whereby, through functional differentiation, scientific knowledge and demystification, the world can be explained without God entering the equation. This view is, of course, far removed from Ṣadrā’s thought. A second definition involves the separation of religion and the government so that they act independently. By drawing a sharp distinction between juridical and rational management, Ṣadrā strongly rejects the literalist approach to revelation and religious authority in the sense of ‘juristic management’, as it is usually understood by advocates of political Shi‘ism. His narrative of the relationship between human wisdom and politics provides a third alternative. This kind of secularism regards the presence of religion in the public domain as useful and desirable, even though there is a justification for organising civil matters according to reason rather than only religious texts. In the spiritual journey, the wayfarer realises the inner aspects of his existence, nature and religion through the intellect and intuition. With this realisation and

132  Transcendent politics the processes of the soul’s transformation from the bodily to an intellectual state, man achieves a perfect state between the unseen (ghayb) and the seen (shuhūd), whereby he can maintain worldly activity and live amongst people. This mysticorational account of the fourfold spiritual journey forms the major premise that formulates Ṣadrā’s ‘transcendent politics’ in the coming chapters.

Notes 1 H. Ziai (2013: PEIPT, ed. G. Bowering, 378–379); Sayyed Javād Ṭabāṭabā’ī (2005/1383 Sh). 2 Ibn Sīnā, for instance, is one of the Muslim philosophers who studied human nature in detail in terms of its physiological and psychological aspects. See Ibn Sīnā, al-Shifā (1983a: II, part 3, 428–433); Michael F. Marmura (2005: 1–15). 3 See Asfār (I, 264–268). 4 Asfār (VIII, 221). 5 Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 187). 6 Ṣadrā (1379 Sh: 116, 252). 7 Asfār (IX, 30–31, 225–228). 8 Asfār (VIII, 223–224). 9 Asfār (VII, 78); Mullā Ṣadrā (1984: 33); Mullā Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 355). 10 Ṣadrā (1984: 479). 11 Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 356). 12 Ṣadrā (1411a: VI, 277–279). 13 In a famous verse, God says: ‘We said to the angels: “Bow down to Adam” and they bowed down. Not so Iblis (Satan): he refused and was haughty: he was of those who reject faith’ (Qur’an, 2:34). In another verse, God says: ‘“What prevented thee from bowing down when I commanded thee?” Satan said: “I am better than he: Thou didst create me from fire, and him from clay.” (God) said: “Get thee down from this: it is not for thee to be arrogant here: get out, for thou art of the meanest (of creatures)” ’ (Qur’an, 7:11–13). 14 For more details on Ṣadrā’s explanation of this verse, see Ṣadrā (1411a: IV, 410). 15 In the introduction to Asfār, he urges self-purification and the pursuit of perfection to obtain divine grace and knowledge. Asfār (I, 11–12). 16 For example, Jāvādī Āmulī, in his introduction to Taḥrīr Tamhīd al-Qawā‘id by Ibn Turka Iṣfahānī (1372 Sh: 13), following the famous saying of the first Shi‘i Imam, ‘Ali Ibn Abi Ṭālib, ‘[T]he study of wisdom requires spiritual exercise and forsaking the world,’ speaks of the importance of self-purification for any successful study of divine knowledge. See Imam ‘Ali’s hadith in A.W. Tamīmī Āmīdī (1359 Sh/1980: I, 238). 17 The term dunyā generally refers to the natural, mundane world, and ākhira to the Hereafter. Dunyā is originally from dunuww, meaning ‘what is nearer’, or from dānī’, meaning ‘what is lesser in worth’. At any rate, this world is called dunyā in order to describe it either as nearer and visible, or as the lesser and lower world of matter and corporeality, just as the Hereafter is called ākhira to indicate that it is the further or greater world that comes after, where human beings will reap the consequences of what they did in the material world. See S. Ali Akbar Qurayshī (1982: 362); Azim Nanji (2008: 365–368); S.H. Nasr (1999a, chapters 1, 3 and 4). See also Quṭb al-Dīn Ishkiwarī’s quotations from Safavid philosophers on asceticism as a prerequisite for succeeding in philosophy/wisdom (1999: I, 100). For the views of Christian ascetics on this worldly life, see D. Turner (1994). 18 Asfār (III, 502; VII: 33); Ṣadrā (1984: 22). 19 Asfār (IX, 228–229). 20 Mullā Muhsin Fayḍ Kashani (1979a: 292). See also his al-Ḥaqā’iq fi Mahāsin al-Akhlāq (1979b: section 3, 69–129). For hadiths on censure of this world, see M. Bāqir Majlisī (1374 Sh: VII, 59, hadith no. 29).

Transcendent politics  133 21 M.B. Majlisī (1374 Sh: I, 134, hadith no. 30). There is a very famous hadith that says, ‘Love of this world (dunyā) is the origin of every sin.’ Abulqasim Pāyande (1337: hadith no. 1342). 22 For the inner and outer aspects of the world in Ṣadrā’s philosophy, see Corbin (1993: 12–13, 256, 261). For more on the inner meaning of Islamic law and the canonical rites in Shi‘ism, see Fadhlalla Hāerī (2002: chapters 3 and 4). 23 Asfār (IX, 167–8); Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 365). 24 Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 375–376). 25 Asfār (VII, 23–40). 26 Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 375–376). 27 Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 376). 28 See Ṣadrā (1984: 485–487); Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 359, 375). 29 Asfār (I, 13). 30 See Ṣadrā (1984: 127, 355); Ṣadrā (1976: 278); Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: 120). 31 According to Ṣadrā, there are also inner and outer dimensions to knowledge. The inner dimension is intuitive, or ‘knowledge by presence’ (al-‘ilm al-huḍūrī). In Islamic mysticism, the terms ‘ilm and ma‘rifa refer to this, the first of which is usually applied to outer or acquired knowledge, in the sense of long years of study and training, while the second implies a ‘mystical knowledge of the divine’, which Ṣadrā identifies as ‘inward knowledge’. The person who has completed the four journeys and reaches the station of perfect man will have both kinds of knowledge. Outer knowledge is a path towards the inner, and without acquired knowledge man cannot reach proper intuitive knowledge. For more on interior and exterior knowledge in Ṣadrā’s works, see Ṣadrā (1984: 465, 560, 606); Ṣadrā (1976: 455); Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 287); Asfār (IX, 38); I. Kalin (2010). 32 Ṣadrā (1976: 568). 33 For more explanations of the attributes encompassing the soul, see Mullā Ṣadrā’s statements on kawn al-jāmi‘ (comprehensive being) in Asfār (I, 391; VII, 180; VIII, 206). See also Ṣadrā (1984: 234). We will analyse the notion of ‘comprehensive being’ in the next chapters. 34 Ṣadrā (1976: 560). 35 See, for example, Sayyed Javād Ṭabāṭabā’ī (1383 Sh: 340) and Ahmad Bostānī (1389 Sh: 12–5), who maintain that Ṣadrā never had any concern with social life and politics. 36 See Ṣadrā (1381a Sh: 75). He sometime uses ‘ultimate happiness’ (sa‘ādat al-quswā) (1379 Sh: 91; 1378 Sh: 65). Elsewhere he uses ‘complete and everlasting happiness’ (sa‘ādat al-tāmma wa dā’ima), as in Asfār (IV, 348); Ṣadrā (1381a Sh: 245). 37 See, for example, Asfār (I, 1; V, 223, 263; IX, 130, 351); Ṣadrā (1976: 367); Ṣadrā (1379 Sh: 7, 149). Ṣadrā sometime uses Fārābī’s and Ibn Sīnā’s terminology of unity with the Active Intellect. See, for example, Ṣadrā (1976: 493) 38 Asfār (II, 322). 39 Ṣadrā (1381a Sh: 152–153). He usually uses the notion of bāṭiniyya for the inner faculty of soul, such as baṣīrat al-bāṭiniyya, in Ṣadrā (1381a Sh: 234), or ḥawās al-bāṭiniyya. See, for example, Ṣadrā (1313: 444); Ṣadrā (1378 Sh: 73); Asfār (IX, 179; I, 309). 40 M. Mahdi (2001: 3). 41 Aristotle (1941b: I, n: 1094, a, b). For more on the influence of Plato and Aristotle on Muslim philosophers regarding this issue, see E. Rosenthal (1962: 114). 42 See E. Rosenthal (1962: 118), cited from Politikos, 259B. For Plato’s political thought, see Ernest Barker (1960). 43 For a brief explanation about Muslim philosophers’ views on politics, see Jamīl Ṣalibā (1994: I, 679–683); S. Yavuz (2015: BEIPh, ed. O. Leaman, 91–96); Muqtedar Khan, M. A. (2019: 161–208); A. Black (2001). 44 See Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic, 22. There is no Arabic version of Ibn al-Rushd’s interpretation of the Republic, but there is research by Erwin I.J. Rosenthal from Hebrew to English, Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic (1956: 7–8), cited from a Hebrew text, 112.

134  Transcendent politics 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74

75 76 77 78 79

80 81 82

Fārābī (2001a: 6–12). E. Rosenthal (1962: 119). Cf. A. Gonzalez Palencia (1953: 91). Fārābī (1403: 12). See also E. Rosenthal (1962: 119). Fārābī (1403: 13). Ibid. For the confluence of revelation and Islamic political philosophy in the last ten centuries, see H. Mikhail (1995). See, for example, Ibn al-Rushd (1961: 219–220); M. Fakhry (2001: 94–95). For more on the history of this debate, see E. Rosenthal (1962: 15–21); A. Black (ed.) (2001: 94–95); G. Bowering, ed. (2013: PEIPT, vii–xix). Ṣadrā (1313: 36). Ṣadrā (1976: 557). Ṣadrā (1411a: I, 117). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 362–363). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 361–362). Asfār (VIII, 107). Y. Kulaynī (1988: I, 50, hadith 14). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 340). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 364). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 363). Ṣadrā (1976: 488). Ṣadrā (1976: 448). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 359–360). For Fārābī’s view on different types of corrupt city, see al-Fārābī (1964: 87); al-Fārābī (1959: 109). In his introduction, Walzer stresses that al-Fārābī ‘does not confine his interest to the felicity of the first ruler: he is equally concerned with the felicity of all the five classes which make up the perfect state’. See R. Walzer (1985: 409–410). See Ṣadrā (1982b: 26–27). Ṣadrā (1976: 490). This idea is strongly reminiscent of Fārābī and goes back ultimately to Plato, as does the idea of men forming an association to help one another satisfy their needs. See his Madina al-Fāḍila, especially his al-Fuṣūl al-Madaniyya. Ṣadrā (2004: II, 470). See, for example, Ṣadrā (1976: 488); Ṣadrā (1984: 57). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 372; 1379 Sh: 115). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 359). Mullā Ṣadrā usually uses Fārābī’s term al-fāḍīlah for both the virtuous and the perfect society. He sometimes uses the terms kāmilah (complete), ṭayyiba (pleasant) as in Ṣadrā (1999: 219), jāmi‘ah (comprehensive) as in Asfār (VII, 181), or just ādilah, as in Ṣadrā (1303: 176). Ṣadrā (1976: 490). Ṣadrā (1976: 488). Ibn Khaldūn (1858: I, 342). See Abu al-Hasan al-Māwardī (1996). See also Bernard Lewis (1974: 40–42). Such an extreme view on the religious state led to Wahhabism, the movement that was built on Ibn Taymiyya’s theology and that organised itself in the kingdom of Sa‘udi Arabia. For more on Ibn Taymiyya, see his Sīyāsat al-Shar‘iyya (1951); M. Henri Laoust (1939). For an early history of Islamic law in the state, see W. Madelung (1997). See A. Barzegar (2013: ed. G. Bowering, PEIPT, 55–57). See M. Ḥillī (1988: part 3); S.H. Nasr (1999a: chapter IV). For a comparison between Greek and Muslim philosophers’ views on the position of law and the Shari‘a, see Rosenthal (1962: 117).

Transcendent politics  135

83 84 85 86 87 88 89

Mullā Ṣadrā (1381a Sh: 67–68). Ṣadrā (1976: 488). For an analysis of Ṣadrā as a ‘philosopher of revelation’, see Christian Jambet (2006). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 364). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 360). Ṣadrā (1976: 488–489). As we will clarify, Ṣadrā sometime uses sīyāsa for the human and secular law, in contrast to Shari‘a as divine law. 90 Ṣadrā (1976: 488–489). 91 F. Rahman (1975: 6). See also a comprehensive discussion on this issue in Gh. Ibrāhīmī Dīnāī (1382 Sh: 9–30). 92 Asfār (I, 315). 93 H. Nasr (1997: 57). 94 For Ṣadrā’s view on this key epistemological matter, see his discussion on al-‘aql al-mustafād (1984: 430; 1360 Sh: 207); Ṣadrā (1976: 206, 273). 95 Ṣadrā (1381a Sh: 38). 96 Ṣadrā (1381a Sh: 59). 97 Ṣadrā (1381a Sh: 63). 98 Ṣadrā (1381a Sh: 64). 99 Ṣadrā (1313: 5). 100 Ṣadrā (1378 Sh: 148). 101 In al-Shawāhid al-Rubūbiyya, 365, Ṣadrā quotes from Plato’s Nawāmīs, which is in fact from a manuscript of al-Fārābī’s Talkhīs al-Nawāmīs, a summary of Plato’s Laws (Nawāmīs in Arabic). Talkhīs al-Nawāmīs was published in Arabic by Abd ­al-Rahman Badawī in the second section of his Aflatoun fi al-Islam. It seems that Plato was also aware of this duality when composing his Republic and Laws, in which he expresses the difference between divine laws and politics with regard to their action and reaction. See Fārābī (1982: 54); Plato (2010: 230; 1980: Book VII, 817a–d). 102 See more details of these differences in Ṣadrā (1378 Sh: 147–149). 103 Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 366–367). 104 If politics, despite its rational basis, benefited from divine wisdom, then both politics and the divine law would have the same goal. The difference between politics and prophecy is that political theory utilises its power to achieve material well-being only. See Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 362–363). In this respect, Ṣadrā shares the same view as Ghazzālī, where he advises the rulers of his time to refer to both wisdom and the Shari‘a for managing the state. Ghazzālī was one of the first Muslim jurists who introduced the concept of ‘public benefit’ (maṣlaḥa) into Muslim jurisprudence as a rational source. According to him, maṣlaḥa, as a gift of human wisdom in addition to the Shari‘a, can assist mankind in managing the community. Religious law and human wisdom aim at human well-being in this world and the next. See Ghazzālī (1367 Sh); Rezā Dāvarī (n.d.: no. 31, 69). 105 Ṣadrā (1976: 496). 106 Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 364). 107 Ṣadrā (2004: II, 388). 108 Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 365).

5 A new vision of socio-political justice in transcendent philosophy

Synopsis The political authority of a government rests upon the exercise of judgement, and judgement requires the ruler to be able to provide a framework of justice. In fact, much of the statecraft or ‘mirrors for princes’ in the advice literature, drawing upon scripture, the Aristotelian ethical-political tradition and aspects of ancient Iranian statecraft, describes the exercise of the primary political virtue of justice and how a ruler ought to provide it in a political system and society. This literature in the form of ethical (akhlāqī) books and treatises did not subordinate justice but urged it as the primary virtue of the ruler, and arguably in this sense Shi‘i thinkers did speak of socio-political justice as a conditional virtue and as a means for establishing true justice in the parousia of the messianic imam. The emergence of the Shi‘i empires in the early modern period, especially the Safavid from 1501, underpins the claims to legitimacy of the Shah as a theophanic manifestation of the Imam’s immanent hiddenness in the world, insofar as the ruler was an embodied representation of the Imam and manifested his justice in consultation with the ‘ulamā’. In contemporary Shi‘i political claims – as expressed in the Iranian revolution of 1979 – shifted the idea of the conditional authority of the monarch to the authority of the just jurist (wilāyat al-faqīh al-‘ādil). In this chapter, having addressed Ṣadrā’s definition of justice, we provide a wider ontological explanation for this concept as it applies to ethical justice – as a primary virtue – and social justice, both of which can be explained within his own theology of divine justice within the whole of creation. In this comprehensive and ontological definition, there is a logical link between justice (both ethical and social) and unity and consequently between justice and the Truth (al-ḥaqq). The ontological confluence of justice and Truth support the idea of the ‘correspondence’ between the two senses of ‘right’ as ‘true’ or ‘correct’ and ‘right’ as both ‘fair’ and ‘just’. The correlation between justice and al-ḥaqq, or unity, in Ṣadrā’s political philosophy requires a new condition for political authority in which the ‘just ruler’ (ḥākim al-‘ādil) must provide a framework of justice in his soul, society and the ontic realm. This is something far beyond the claim to authority of the just jurist in classical discussions of Islamic jurisprudence and theology. According to this new definition that we introduce in this chapter, justice comes

Justice in transcendent philosophy  137 about in the human soul with the equilibrium of the faculties and is achieved in society through assistance, tolerance and giving priority to the interests of society over those of the self. Thus the just ruler precedes the interests of the whole and serves the individual without discrimination of race, religion and so forth. What is remarkable in this study is that within the context of the Ṣadrian principles of the ‘best order of the universe’ (al-nizām al-aḥsan fī al-khalq) and ‘correspondence’ (taṭbīq), we can demonstrate how the concept of justice can be explained within the wider scheme of his existential philosophy. With this understanding, at the end of the chapter we will also discuss one of the most controversial issues in ethics and politics, i.e., the ‘objectivity–subjectivity’ of justice.

Definition of justice Among Muslim philosophers, the two general rules of ‘giving to each his right’ and ‘having things in their right place’ are perhaps the most well-known definitions suggested for both ethical and social justice. These definitions are probably taken from Imam ‘Ali (d. 40/661), when he says that ‘justice puts everything in its right place.’1 Muslim scholars have also used the concept of moderation and balance for both individual and social justice, since moderation as a general rule facilitates the well-being of both the human soul and society and leads to perfection and happiness.2 This evokes the famous definition of Plato: ‘ [W]e have laid down, as a universal principle, that everyone ought to perform the one’s function in the community for which one’s nature is best suited. . . . [T]hat principle, or some form of it, is justice.’3 Therefore, Plato in the Republic treats justice as an overarching virtue of both the individual and society, so that almost every issue he (or we) would regard as ethical comes under the notion of justice. Further, Plato argues, justice is in a sense a master virtue because in both the city and the psyche, if each part is doing its own job, both city and psyche will also have wisdom, courage and moderation, or self-discipline.4 As for specifically ethical justice, Muslim thinkers have similarly defined it as a ‘habitus of equilibrium’ (malikat al-i‘tidāl) within the human soul. For example, Shaykh Ṭūsī (d. 460/1066) says: ‘Justice literally means maintaining the soul in an equal and balanced situation,’5 and Tabātabāe’ī has stated, ‘By the habitus of Justice, the human faculties exercise their rights and stay in their proper places.’ With this virtue, a person establishes harmony amongst the faculties of the soul, is delivered from both deficiency (tafrīṭ) and excess (ifrāṭ), and clears the way for the other virtues.6 This reminds us of Aristotle’s model for the virtues of character, in which virtue is an intermediate stance, or mean, between the vices of excess and deficiency. While he grants that there is a ‘general’ sense of justice in which justice is coincident with complete virtue, there is a particular sense in which it is not overarching (pleonexia).7 Epicurus’s general conception of the role of justice seems to have more mystical elements than its counterparts in Plato and Aristotle and reflects in part his distinctive understanding of eudaimonia, or happiness. For Epicurus, this consisted

138  Justice in transcendent philosophy in tranquillity (ataraxia), or freedom from disturbance. Given that the good life is the life without disturbance, justice plays a key instrumental role. According to Epicurus, one might withdraw entirely from human society to avoid disturbance, but the alternative is to live socially under terms that secure the avoidance of disturbance. This is the structure of the ideal Epicurean community, in which all refrain from hostility and enmity. Justice is a matter of keeping agreements generally, in particular the agreement not to harm or transgress social norms. In this way, Epicurus offers a conception of the virtue of justice that harmonises both its personal and political dimensions. The personal virtue involves the motivation to tolerate by a contract not to aggress or harm others. The political virtue inheres in a polity in which such norms regulate the conduct of citizens, and these two dimensions of justice as a virtue reinforce each other.8 As we will elaborate in the following discussion, Ṣadrā has suggested a general conception of justice for both the individual and society, which is, of course, based on his mystico-philosophical principles. Our discussion, therefore, is neither merely theological, i.e., focused on elements such as the confluence of rational justice and religious justice, nor purely an ethical justice, such as when Muslim thinkers talk of the four key virtues of wisdom, courage, temperance and justice and provide specific guidance on functionaries in a just society. In defining justice, Ṣadrā explains in one place how the unjust person seeks superiority over others, both psychologically and within the community as a whole. In society it often happens that one person seeks superiority over the others, and in the human psyche each faculty, whether intentionally or not, does likewise: the animal faculties tend to govern the imaginal faculties, and thence to fantasy, which in turn tends to control the rational faculties: Each faculty [in the case of unjust soul] sees only its own power and attempts to rule over the other faculties, just as the angels who disputed with God over Adam [as mentioned in the Qur’an] because they believed themselves to be superior to man. The imaginal and sensual faculties do not like to obey the rational faculties.9 Consequently, the ethical justice improves self-conduct and causes people to deal with others fairly. This justice as a virtue brings equilibrium to the human psyche, through which each faculty is guided in its proper function. After the aforementioned general interpretive perspective on justice, a short inquiry into ethical justice in transcendent philosophy may help locate ethical justice in our discourse on Ṣadrā’s political justice.

The nature of ethical justice in Ṣadrā’s thought From Ṭūsī onward, Muslim thinkers have given particular attention to the virtue of justice in their works on ethics and theology. One reason for this is that, since the essence of all virtue is the ‘mean’ between extremes, justice itself constitutes the essence of all ‘means’. Thus a person who has justice (‘adāla) necessarily

Justice in transcendent philosophy  139 has all other virtues as well.10 In this context, Mullā Ṣadrā categorises ethical justice into three types: (1) chastity (‘iffa): justice in regard to sexuality, so that it remains under the control of the rational faculty; (2) courage (shajā‘a): so that the person neither is cowardly nor acts foolishly or in anger; and (3) wisdom (ḥikma): to refine the rational faculty so that the intelligence perceives abstract ideas that lead to knowledge.11 The virtue defined as the habitus of justice is the outcome of moderation and balance at all levels of the person:12 One can see particular effects on the soul as the result of one’s just actions. This will be better realised when actions are repeated. In this case, the just actions become a habit, and very hard to remove from the human psyche. It is as if old, firm habits take on a new existence and the soul has a new character, the same way as charcoal becomes a form of fire when the heat intensifies. Just like heat on charcoal, an action – whether good or bad – becomes second nature, and the soul easily repeats it.13 Just actions (al-‘amāl al-‘ādilah), by reflecting the most excellent moral virtue, give rise to a stable habitus (al-malakat al-rāsikha). Through the moral habitus, the human soul recovers from its defects and moves from potentiality towards increased existence and the actuality of perfection: Moral attributes, good habits and knowledge bring perfection to the human soul through its substantial evolution. In this perfecting process the soul achieves the high station of the celestial beings and the angels.14 Mullā Ṣadrā introduces two positions regarding ethical justice: one that has a sustaining nature and the other an existential reality. With his own ontological approach to the issue, he says that the former is the virtue by which the soul is indifferent to gain and loss. In this sense, it is simply a protection from passivity (infi‘āl) and a descent to a lower level of existence. The latter is the good habit by which the person may manage all the faculties of the different levels of his existence, including the vegetal, animal and human, and in this sense, justice is an existential habitus that transfers the soul to a higher level of existence, rather than preventing a fall: The former is not an existential perfection to improve the soul substantially, because it has no existential nature. However the latter is a gaining and perfection, because it substantially intensifies the existence of the soul.15 Accordingly, although preventing the soul to fall into extremes is not considered an existential feature, it is the virtue of moderation and a prerequisite of the existential justice that assists the soul in its substantial evolution. It is through both kinds of ethical justice (the prevention of wrong and the habitus of doing good) that the human soul can step forward on the spiritual journey.16 In my analysis, this focal point is central to our discourse on justice in Ṣadrā’s philosophy. There

140  Justice in transcendent philosophy are, however, other premises we need to provide in order to complete a picture of his narrative. In the following discussion on social justice, we explain how justice is premised in the wider ontological framework of his philosophy.

Social justice in the wider picture of Ṣadrā’s ontology As we briefly discussed in the previous chapter, Mullā Ṣadrā states that man is naturally sociable and cannot survive without society.17 He then introduces different types of society by a division into the complete and incomplete, which we explain here in more detail. A complete society can be: (1) an international ­system that stretches throughout the world, (2) a system governing a nation, or (3) a ­specific social system for a particular geographical region. An incomplete society can be of four kinds: (1) the social system of a city, (2) the social system of a town, (3) that of a village, or (4) the system within a home or family: There is no doubt that man will not attain perfection unless he lives in a community where the people cooperate and assist each other to meet their common needs. . . . There are various kinds of societies, some complete and some incomplete. Complete societies are of three kinds: the great community of all people in the world; middle communities, like the community of a nation gathering in one area; and small communities, like the inhabitants of a city or a country. An incomplete society is like that of the inhabitants of a town, village or a family. The highest goodness and happiness belongs to the largest community, where more social cooperation can become a reality. Such communities can achieve the best goals and have genuine charity.18 Ṣadrā’s argument for the nobility of the greater community denotes how he believes in the goodness of unity in a society, as he clearly declared that the perfection of multiplicity in the ontic realm is comprised in unity (kamāl al-kathrat fī al-waḥda).19 He does not explain how we can imagine the nature of unity as regards society, but we can justify it by the coordination and harmony amongst citizens and social organs leading to a single, unified community (al-ummat al-wāḥida). The perfect society is one in which the people understand one another and are connected in many ways, culturally, emotionally, intellectually and spiritually. Human society is not the same as a community of social animals like ants or bees. To explain this, I would say that in an animal colony there is mutual cooperation, but we cannot apply the concept of a society to it because there is no underlying emotional, cultural, intellectual or spiritual connection. Human society is in this respect a simple, unified entity that includes individuals, just as the human soul has two aspects: the unity of its singular identity (its I-ness) and its multiple bodily parts and intellectual faculties. Therefore, society is a singular phenomenon consisting of numerous individuals within its identity. Both unity and multiplicity coexist. As a result, we can argue accordingly that a larger community would have more unity, as it would bring about more opportunities for unifying multiplicity and diversity. A larger community would then encompass

Justice in transcendent philosophy  141 the most various cultures, arts, sciences, custom and classes and would generally include more aspects than a smaller society. In this respect, Ṣadrā compares society to the human person, since a perfect soul is a simple, unified existence embracing various faculties and is the noble outcome of moderation and equilibrium in the vegetal, animal and rational ­faculties of the human soul. In Chapter 2, where we addressed Ṣadrā’s doctrine of the unity of the soul in multiplicity and its multiplicity in unity, we explained how the soul encompasses the whole existential perfection of its faculties in one simple, indivisible reality.20 This state of perfection comes to fruition when the soul has passed through the vegetal and animal states and reaches the state of ­rationality. In describing the virtuous city, like his predecessors, Ṣadrā compares society to the soul and highlights his own idea by saying that a perfect society is one that encompasses multiplicity and diversity in a single, cooperative system. The largest community (al-ijtimā’ al-‘uzmā) would be more diverse, and therefore its unity would be stronger and more perfect.21 From an ontological perspective, according to Mullā Ṣadrā, unity is basically the perfection of multiplicity. In other words, multiplicity is manifested in a unified form at a higher stage of its existence. Therefore, a more concentrated unity has more existence and has more goodness than multiplicity: Know that the nobility of every existent is due to its closeness to the form of unity, so the further an existent is from the state of unity, the more inferior is its existence, and it benefits less from the goodness of existence.22 And when comparing society to a human being, he says: A perfect society is like a healthy body whose organs and parts cooperate with each other to assist the citizens on the path of happiness. Like the human body, where the heart is the noblest organ, some individuals in society have more nobility than others because of their relationship to the spiritual realm [the realm of unity].23 The soul is like an umbrella to the rational and physical attributes, and unity of the soul is a state of being that permeates throughout these multiple aspects. This unity of multiplicity within the human being is like the universal unity of all creation, and according to Ṣadrā, like the unity of God over the whole realm of contingents: The cosmos as a whole is an individual unified existent. The unity of the cosmos is not a body formed of unrelated things, but is rather a system of connected phenomena through casual relationships, either mediated or unmediated. Know that any compound reality with a stronger existential connection among its parts has a more intense existence.24 In line with his ontological view of the cosmos, Ṣadrā maintains that society as a unity encompasses the spirit of the individual people. The complex and mutual

142  Justice in transcendent philosophy relationships among people bring about society as a new phenomenon, which has a different nature and identity to that of the individual people. In this new phenomenon, each individual has a certain role and responsibility, which, if they do not fulfil, would mean that there would be no real unification, and so disorder and chaos would come to the society.25 As in the cosmos, where the natures of the existents have different levels of nobility, so in society individuals have different levels of physical and intellectual power. The attitudes and behaviours of each person determine the degree of unity and harmony in society. As we shall see in the chapter on the virtuous city, a structured harmony gives rise to the ideal political state, where every success is due to the coexistence and collaboration of the people. The fascinating idea of unity that Ṣadrā discusses in the two different contexts of psychology and ontology and his idea of the goodness of unity suggest the view that, according to him, the absolute good (khayr al-muṭlaq) at the highest degree of Unity is in fact God, the Truth, and to Him all multiplicity ultimately returns. Therefore, those things that are nearer to God have the greatest share of unity. On the basis of this analysis, we propose the view that in Ṣadrā’s political philosophy, unity and justice are twins. In the same way that a lack of unity means diversity, the lack of justice leads to an antagonistic plurality, diversity, disunion and discord in the three realms of the human soul, society and the cosmos.

A mystical hermeneutic of Ṣadrā’s approach to social justice Readers of Ṣadrā’s philosophy know that he usually takes three approaches to his topic, that of the theological, the philosophical and the mystical. He starts with theology and finishes his argument from a mystical perspective.26 This means that the mystical argument is his conclusive summation. In this section, using Ṣadrā’s own ontological and metaphysical principles, we analyse his ultimate mystical view on the concept of justice in general, and social justice in particular, in accord with his theme of ‘unity in multiplicity’, whose philosophical and psychological bases we addressed in Chapter 2. Like other Muslim mystics, Ṣadrā asserts that all contingent beings are merely articulations of the Divine Breath (nafas al-Raḥmānī), a spiritual expansion from centre to periphery, from the inner (bāṭin) to the outer (zāhir). In his interpretation of the Qur’anic verse that says: ‘He is the First and the Last, the Bāṭin and the Zāhir, and He is the Knower of all things’ (57:3), Ṣadrā speaks of the link between ultimate reality and contingent beings, where reality is a spiritual expansion or deployment from an inner Divine Origin to outer theophanic presence.27 The terms bāṭin and zāhir sometimes respectively refer to unity (implying transcendence) and multiplicity (implying immanence). This implies a spatial dimension of reality, which can be conceived as either centre or periphery.28 The confluence of unity and multiplicity as high/low or near/far dimensions of ­creation can be comprehended by the principle of ‘unity in multiplicity’ and ­‘multiplicity in unity’, through which Ṣadrā reconciles the dichotomy of different grades of existence.29 Before explaining the implication of this ontological principle for

Justice in transcendent philosophy  143 justice, we first need to analyse Ṣadrā’s overall view of justice, whereby justice in the ordering of the cosmos means that each entity has a fair opportunity to perfect itself by transforming from a state of potentially (quwwa) to actuality (fi‘liyya), even though there are different levels of existence in terms of intensity and weakness. Looking at the universe as a whole, the differences in creation are not unfairly discriminatory because of the order of creation without which the specific levels of existence would never become real: If the existents were equal in their level of existence and capacities, existence would not be ordered as it is, and all entities would have identical powers and qualities. A world without diversity and different levels of existence could not survive, because the creatures would not be able to provide for the requirements of each other. In addition, if all entities had the highest level of existence, then the lower realms would not become existent, while the divine justice requires the provision of life and existence for every entity from the lowest to the highest.30 As previously discussed, Ṣadrā speaks of individual, social and natural justice. This classification of justice into three types provides a general picture of how justice is premised upon the Ṣadrian philosophical principle of the ‘the best order of the universe’, and his concept of the correspondence between ontology, ethics and psychology. This mystical understanding of different layers of existence is the privilege of those who have true knowledge of their soul, their existential relationship with the universe and the Truth. Ṣadrā is not in fact alone in presenting such a broad view. For example, in his explanation of Ibn Sīnā’s description of how Divine Providence (al-‘Ināyat al-Ilāhī) creates order in the universe,31 he says that, like himself, Ibn Sīnā believes that for the inner world (of the human psyche) to correspond with Divine Providence, one needs to manage the psyche by practising the good and avoiding evil.32 Elsewhere he says: Ibn Sīnā’s definition of Divine Providence (al-Ināyat al-Ilāhī) is that God has created the universe in the best order. He maintains that this ordering of the universe is made complete through the practical wisdom (al-ḥikmat al-‘amalī) of the human soul. This means that the best order of the world will reach fruition if the person [along with the perfect creation of the universe by God] performs good actions, including religious rites, the giving of charity and any other duties recommended by the right religions (adyān al-ḥaqqa).33 Ṣadrā cites Ibn Sīnā’s words to elucidate and support his own idea of ‘correspondence’ (taṭbīq). The concept of correspondence in Ṣadrā’s philosophy is explained within the mystical hermeneutics of the correspondence of the human soul as microcosm (al-‘ālam al-ṣaghīr) and the cosmos as macrocosm (al-‘ālam al-kabīr). Based on this description, man is the epitome and quintessence of the universe and suffices to establish the correspondences between the human psyche, society and the ontic sphere.34 Within this mystical approach, Ṣadrā takes a step

144  Justice in transcendent philosophy further beyond his predecessors and introduces a broad perspective on the existents (wujūdāt) as a whole, whereby the three realms of the human psyche, society and the cosmos have single and final aim. The ultimate goal of justice in all these three realms is unity because it is through unity that the multiplicities recover from the imperfections of their existence and rejoin the highest state of reality: The realm of matter is the source of disunion (tafarruq), dissension (tafraqa), and evil, hence defection and multiplicity [in the material world] is the cause of evil.35 Elsewhere, Ṣadrā emphasises this point as follows: The highest stage of man’s perfection is distance for himself from the multiplicity and disunity of the material world; from dissension and contrariety (taḍādd) to unity and harmony; and from the perishing world (‘alam al-fānī) to the everlasting world (‘alam al-bāqī) and the Truth.36 All this is possible if man begins with the self. In the human soul, unity comes about with the equilibrium of the faculties. Within society, unity is achieved through cooperation and giving precedence to the interests of the community over those of the individual. In the cosmos, unity is the harmony of all creation. This harmonious cooperation of all entities at all levels of existence is an existential system of causal interrelationships. The entire world of creation as macrocosm (al-‘ālam al-akbar) encompasses all levels of existence, which Divine Providence and its existential perfections permeate, including man and society.37 In mystical terminology, Divine Providence is a ‘Universal Unit’ (Wāhid ­al-Kull), and comprises the goodness of all levels of creation. This world has essentially been created by an Omnipotent God Who is Infinitely Good, and so it must be the best of His possibilities. Anything less would fall short of God’s Power and Providence. We may then conclude that the order of the world, as it is, is the noblest, most perfect and highest of all possible orders, insofar as no other order can be conceived as superior.38 Ṣadrā discusses the question of good and evil in the second part of the third journey in Asfār, whose eighth chapter is devoted to Divine Providence. His purpose is to produce a framework of compatibility within which he can overcome the dichotomy between God as an innately Good Being and the apparent imperfections or evils of the world in which we live. The paradigm of ‘the best order’ shows that relative imperfection is in fact the eventual goodness of all created beings in creation as a whole. God, as Absolute Goodness, has no aspect of imperfection or defect. He is Omnipotent, Omniscient and the Originator of all things, and as Creator has made the universe in the best order, for no better world could be created.39 Based on this doctrine, it is in the interest of creation as a whole that less perfect things, which may have some aspect of evil, are created. This is because, according to Ṣadrā, they are necessary components of the way the world is. Extreme heat

Justice in transcendent philosophy  145 and cold, for example, may not seem like the best of conditions and in fact often lead to temporary disruption and relative chaos. Extreme heat can burn and cause damage, but this is not principally caused by God. It is the inevitable effect of the nature of fire when it is within a certain range of a flammable substance. In itself, the existence of heat is good, but due to some accidental contact resulting from natural movement, it can cause damage. However, Ṣadrā states that this is all part of the compelling transformation of the world: Compelling transformation caused by the Divine Mercy, if the world had consciousness, insofar as its present state of being is concerned, it would know that movement from this state may be objectionable to it, but hidden in this aversion there is a great kindness, whereby the world is transformed from these forms [of coercion] to something nobler and more open to Life and the Divine Mercy.40 The same argument is applied to moral evil. Poor choices and bad behaviour as moral evils are all due to conflicts of interest, man’s limitations and the insufficiencies of his level of existence in terms of knowledge, power, will and so forth.41 The purpose of creation is to give all entities the opportunity to ­experience the whole spectrum of existence from the lowest material state, through the intermediate state (barzakh), and finally to the highest, immaterial state (‘ālam al-mujarradāt) by making the ascending journey from multiplicity to Unity. All of creation makes this journey involuntarily – other than man, who does so willingly and consciously. The natural movement of creatures function within the laws of creation, but man is made to act according to ethical values and the social law. In the best order of creation, God has designed two harmonious and corresponding laws – the law of the nature (qānūn takwīn) and the revealed law (Shari‘a) – and both laws have one objective, and that is the convergence of multiplicity with unity. Unity within the human psyche – as previously discussed– involves the incorporation of all the soul’s faculties, which happens with the virtue of moderation and equilibrium. Within society, unity manifests with the coexistence and cooperation of the citizens and collectivities, which finally become a harmonious system. Mullā Ṣadrā says that the main purpose of life in society is the coexistence of the people in order to provide for everyone’s material and spiritual needs.42 Whether large or small, a just society is, for him, a community in which the individuals give priority to the interests and welfare of society as whole whenever such interests differ: For God, it is necessary for everyone [in society] to give priority to the benefit (ṣalāḥ) of the community (jam‘) when there is a conflict between the benefit of the individual and that of society. Therefore all creatures [mankind] created by the First Goodness (Ghayr al-Awwal) should do according to natural honour.43 This, Ṣadrā says, is in tandem with the inner world of the human being. The human psyche and its faculties have their own desires and interests, and the

146  Justice in transcendent philosophy vegetal faculties (quwā al-nabātī) and animal faculties (quwā al-ḥayawānī) seek to satisfy their own sensual needs. In order to do this, they may conflict with the higher, rational faculties of man. For example, the animal soul may enjoy a particular food or sexual relationship, but it might be harmful to the interests of man’s overall existence. It is in such a case that the habitus of justice can deter the self from irrational actions that might damage the complete being, and therefore justice favours the whole being as a unit. Excessive sexual desire is considered bad for the person as a complete being, although it may cause pleasure for the animal soul. This follows the same logic whereby, if a part of the body becomes unhealthy and threatens the whole system, reason tells us to remove the part: There are some evils in this world which may conflict with certain parts of the creation, but they are good and necessary for the whole system. Know that when there is conflict between the interests of the individual and those of the people, the interests of people should take precedence. We can illustrate society with the example of the human being, for if a part of the body loses its health and becomes harmful for the whole body, every wise person endorses that it should be removed.44 Examining Ṣadrā’s discourse on the correlation of individual and social justice from another angle, he maintains that the habitus of justice in the human soul occurs in association with social justice. The people who fail to have moral justice in their own souls usually fail to contribute to justice within society. Individual justice is, on the one hand, enhanced through living in society and serving the people, and, on the other hand, an ideal expression of social justice would be realised if all the people were themselves just in their souls, both types of justice being existentially dependent on each other. The logic behind this is that social justice provides a suitable environment for the people to properly manage their personal affairs, as well as bringing about moderation and equilibrium in the self. This moderation manifests in society as the fair treatment of others. Individual justice in the absence of others is impossible, since by dealing with others the moral faculties improve, and thus a mature relationship with others is a prerequisite for justice in the soul: The human being by nature is a social creature, and his life would not be in order without the presence of others. Therefore man as such [as a perfect and just person] will not be developed without society. Obviously, the person also needs justice and law in society in order to achieve perfection, otherwise immorality, tyranny and chaos will dominate the life of both society and the individual.45 Ṣadrā gives us yet another mystical interpretation of social justice, which is that living according to the rule of justice is concomitant with being on the ‘Right Path’.46 In other words, an integral approach to justice leads to identification with what is right, with al-Ḥaqq as such, and not merely doing that which is right. From

Justice in transcendent philosophy  147 this perspective, being just is not simply being moral in our actions but rather is a substantial movement that consequently informs our own deepest being.47 In this mystical approach to justice, the just man is then liberated from the material consequences of his actions in the measure of the rectitude and sincerity of his intentions, his actions not being evaluated according not to consequences but to intentions. One’s intention should be to be just, not for the sake of some earthly reward or tangible consequence, but purely for the sake the ultimate goal of nearness to God and annihilation in the divine realm. When applied to political justice, as Ṣadrā explains, one of the most obvious consequences of this conception of justice is the necessity for piety and spirituality on the part of the just rulers.48 To summarise and conclude the foregoing discussion, through the habitus of justice, man is able to recover his existence from the imperfections of the bodily state and move from the multiplicity of this world to a state of unity. This unity manifests as the harmonious equilibrium of the faculties in the human soul, united under the control of the intellect (al-‘aql) and wisdom (al-ḥikmah). At the social level, wisdom brings about unity in the community by giving precedence to the interests of others over those of the individual. On a broader scale, there is the harmonious coexistence of all creation in the cosmos. This harmony of the three realms occurs due to the providence of God (‘ināyat Allah) having created the universe in the ‘best possible order’ (nizām al-aḥsan). Ṣadrā compares these three spheres in various places in his work and uses the concept of taṭbīq, which we have translated as ‘correspondence’. Taṭbīq is a general term that covers all the realms of existence, showing that his narrative of justice can be explained within the general scheme of his existential philosophy. It is through this understanding that we could draw a comprehensive picture of political justice rooted in his systematic philosophy. Within this mystical hermeneutics, we explain in the following section how both political and ethical justice are ‘objective/ontic’ and can be applied to both human existential perfection and, within a wider framework, to his transcendent politics.

Justice as ontic reality I have argued that the harmony throughout the human psyche, society and the cosmos is developed in the narrative of the ‘correspondence of the three realms’. It would therefore be reasonable to regard ‘moral’ and ‘social’ facts as part of the overall scheme of creation and the ontic realm. In other words, the harmonious cooperation of all entities at the three levels of existence is ontic and within the causative interrelationship of the universe. The existential correspondence of the human psyche and society with the ontic sphere, as well as the correspondence of the human soul as microcosm (al-‘ālam al-ṣaqīr) and the cosmos as macrocosm (al-‘ālam al-kabīr), would require a thoroughly comprehensive manner of justice throughout in order to be objective. The objectivity or subjectivity of ethics is as old as the topic itself, including that of justice. In the ancient world, there were sceptics who saw morality as nothing more than a set of social conventions. Herodotus, after reviewing the moral

148  Justice in transcendent philosophy beliefs of various cultures, declared that ‘custom is king over all’ and considered anyone who thought otherwise merely naïve: ‘Everyone without exception believes his own native customs, and the religion he was brought up in, to be the best.’49 In Plato’s Republic, Socrates encountered Thrasymachus, who said right and wrong are inventions of the strong that help them dominate the weak: Each ruling class makes laws that are in its own interest, a democratic laws, a tyranny tyrannical ones and so on; and in making these laws define a ‘right’ for their subjects what is in the interests of themselves, the rulers, and if anyone breaks laws he is punished as a ‘wrongdoer’. That is what I  mean when I say that ‘right’ is the same thing in all states, namely the interest of the established ruling class.50 The advocates of such views assume that there are no such things as extramental moral facts in the nature of things that makes one kind of action right and another wrong. Pyrrho makes this assertion explicit by saying that ‘nothing is honourable or dishonourable, just or unjust, so there is nothing really existent, but custom and convention govern human actions; for no single thing is any more than that.’51 Considering such a perspective regarding the question of ethics, subjectivists counter the objectivists with two problems.52 The first problem is ontological. Do ‘moral facts’ really exist? In the ontic realm, we find plants and animals and rocks. We find that fire is hot, that some flowers are fragrant, that the number four is more than the number two, but do we find good and evil? Suppose we examine an evil act, for example, a murder. We see a man with a knife; we see him strike; we see the victim fall; we see blood and then a lifeless body; but where among these facts, is the moral fact? Take any action considered to be evil: wilful murder, for instance, and ask if one can find a matter of fact, or real existence, which is called evil. In whichever way one looks at it, one only finds certain passions, motives, volitions and thoughts. There is no matter of fact involved. The second problem is closely related to the first, and it is epistemological. How do we know moral facts? In science, we discern the existence of things by observation and experiment or perhaps by inference from observation and experiment; in mathematics, there are proofs; in ordinary life, we rely on straightforward perception. But moral facts are not accessible by any of these familiar methods. If the existence of moral facts is to be defended, we need to be able to say how they are discerned.53 These and other problems that have been raised against objectivism indicate that moral objectivism cannot be easily supported. It is difficult to frame in any clear, detailed picture of how moral values are part of the fabric of the world. Before we settle this issue, we need to look at ethical objectivity both epistemologically and ontologically.54 Firstly, ethics could be objective in the epistemological sense that moral problems can be solved by rational methods, which would show that some moral views are acceptable while others are not. Objectivism in this sense means that morality is not merely a ‘matter of opinion’ but rather ‘an act is right’, depending

Justice in transcendent philosophy  149 on whether it is justifiable by sound reasoning or not.55 Secondly, ethics would be objective in the ontological sense that the moral concept of ‘justice’, ‘good’, ‘right’ and so on, refers to real properties of things, so that moral values are part of the extra-mental world. Moral realism is the view that ethics is objective in this sense. However, how might this be defined to make it understandable for subjectivists? We mention here only two explanations related to our discussion: 1

2

The first argument for objectivity is that moral properties are distinct properties that are separate from the object’s other qualities. Thus, in the case of murder, for example, if after recounting all the other facts, such as emotional reactions, the prevailing social norms and the like, we say that murder is evil, this is a new additional fact. This is exactly the kind of moral fact that ­philosophers like Hume thought did not exist.56 There is a view that moral properties are ‘secondary qualities’,57 and a secondary quality is the power an object has to produce effects in the consciousness of an observer. Colour is a classic example of a secondary quality. A physical object, like a box, has primary qualities of shape and mass that exist entirely independently of the observer. The box’s shape and mass would be the same even if there were no conscious beings in the universe. But what about its colour? Colour is not a thing spread upon the box like a coat of paint. The box’s surface reflects light-waves in a certain way, and this light strikes the eye of the observer, and as a result the observer has a visual experience with certain characteristics. If the light waves falling on the box were different, or if the visual apparatus of the observer were different, then the box would appear to have a different colour. Hence, the redness of a box consists in its power, under certain conditions, to cause the observer to have a certain kind of visual experience. Another example is the sourness of a lemon. A lemon is sour because we experience a certain taste when we put it to our tongues. What is sour for humans might not be sour for animals with different kinds of sense organs; and if we were made differently, lemons might not be sour for us. We do have a notion of what is ‘normal’ for our species in this regard, but, despite that, to declare that lemons are sour is not a ‘subjective’ observation. It is an absolutely objective fact that lemons have the power to produce that particular sensation in us.

Moral properties could be properties of this kind, having the power to cause us to experience a certain attitude or emotion. Returning to our theme of justice, we may assert that being unjust might consist in having whatever it takes to provoke a thoughtful person to hostility, opposition and contempt. Similarly, ‘just conduct’ might consist of a secondary quality that evokes our support and approval. These core debates on the objectivity of ethical properties concern the nature and fabric of the reality of ethical values. Western philosophers have raised the question of whether they are normal primary qualities of things, or do they have a peculiar existence of their own, and if so, what is the nature of that existence? The introduction of the concept of ‘secondary qualities’ previously mentioned to distinguish them from primary qualities is a useful philosophical attempt to

150  Justice in transcendent philosophy explain the mode of ethical values, but it is nevertheless still unconvincing. In Islamic philosophy, the redness of a colour or the sourness of a lemon is a primary quality with an independent existence, although it may be an accident (araḍ) in a substratum (jawhar). Accidents only exist in a substance, but an accident is a property that has no necessary connection to the essence of the thing being described. For example, all contingent beings are contingent, as it is a necessary or essential property of what it means to be contingent. However, a particular contingent such as a box may be red in colour, but the red colour is not a property particular to the box. Therefore, even if all the boxes that were not red were destroyed, or if every single existing box were red, the property of redness as such remains and would not be an accidental existence, since it would be logically ­possible for redness to exist in another object, just as it would still be logically possible for a box to have some other colour. This means that redness or sourness are primary existents, even though they always appear to a subject, and this applies even if the light waves coming from the colour were different or if the visual apparatus of various observers were different, and the box appeared to have a different colour to different people. In other words, the existence of redness and sourness are ‘in’ the subject, and not ‘for’ the subject, while the existence of contingency (imkān) is both ‘in’ and ‘for’ the contingent, since there is no contingency without contingent being. If for any reason all contingent being became non-existent, then there would be no contingency. There is, however, a new concept in Ṣadrā’s philosophy58 which we suggest replacing with ‘secondary quality’, although Ṣadrā never discussed the idea in an ethical context. That concept is the ‘secondary philosophical intelligible’. He proposes this idea in contrast to the two concepts of a ‘primary intelligible’ and ‘secondary logical intelligible’ already introduced by Muslim philosophers.59 According to Ṣadrā’s definition, in the case of a ‘primary intelligible’, both ‘occurrence’ and ‘qualification’ happen in concreto in the external world as a real event. In this case, the quality indicated by the predicate ‘redness’, for example, subsists in the external world independent from the thing itself (the subject) to which it ‘occurs’. There is also in the external world a concretely existent thing, which is ‘qualified’ by that quality, that is to say, there is concrete ‘thing’ that is ‘red. When it is made a logical predicate in the form of ‘red’ and is attributed to a thing – e.g., ‘the thing is red’ – it is called a ‘predicate by way of adherence’ (mahmūl bi al-ḍamīma). It should also be noted that the concept of ‘red’ is derived or abstracted from the concretely existent thing that is red. However, in the case of a ‘secondary logical intelligible’, both ‘occurrence’ and ‘qualification’ take place in the mind and in the mind only. Here the predicatequality has no corresponding subsistence in the external world at all. Nor does the thing actually qualified by that quality exist outside the mind. In other words, the very source from which the concept of the quality is abstracted is itself a concept. The idea of a ‘universal’ is a good example of this kind of concept. When we say ‘Man is a universal’ (al-insān al-kullī), we are aware of talking about a relationship between two concepts. It is obvious that a quality of ‘universality’ has no extra-mental existence, for everything existent in the external world is, without

Justice in transcendent philosophy  151 exception, particular and individual. By the same token, it is also obvious that there is in the external world nothing that is qualified by being a ‘universal’. The source from which the concept ‘universal’ is abstracted is in fact another concept, in this case that of ‘man’. There is, however, another ‘secondary intelligible’ called a ‘secondary philosophical intelligible’ (al-ma‘qūl al-thānī al-falsafī). In the case of the ­‘secondary philosophical intelligible’, the ‘occurrence’ happens only in the mind, i.e., ­conceptually, but the ‘qualification’ is an actual event and objective. This may be explained by saying that the quality indicated by the predicate is not in this case a self-subsistent quality in reality, so that there can be no external real ‘occurrence’ of the quality to the thing, but the source from which the concept of that quality is abstracted is existent in concreto. Something ‘being contingent’ and something ‘being a thing’ belong to this class of the ‘secondary philosophical intelligible’. According to the preceding definition, we may say that the concept of an ethical property, like the goodness of ­justice or the badness of injustice, is neither a primary intelligible, like a tree or red, nor a logical secondary intelligible, like universality, which is absolutely mental and is not concrete in the objective realm. It is rather an objective reality whose ‘occurrence’ takes place in the mind on the level of conceptual elaboration and analysis and qualifies its subject (human acts or the habitus of people in society) in the extra-mental realm. Therefore ‘being just’ is not merely conceptual but rather a reality that is an attribute of the just person or action that qualifies it objectively. A just action is a kind of action that is associated with a particular determination and has its own concrete qualification, one that is not found in an unjust action. That is why just and unjust acts and behaviour have different existential and objective effects on the human soul and society as a whole. Therefore, in response to the ontological question, ‘Is justice objective, and does it exist in an extra-mental realm?’ the answer is yes. There is something real in the just action that distinguishes it from the unjust, but the nature of its existence is obviously not like that of a tree or rock, nor even like the redness of a box or the sourness of lemon, because redness and sourness, like any other accident (such as redness or light waves from the box) exist ‘in’ the subject, not ‘for’ the subject. Redness and sourness, like the rock, are primary existents, while the quality of justice exists ‘in’ and ‘for’ the action like the contingency of a rock. Justice is objective only in the sense that it causes a power in us to have certain attitudes or emotions. This is not a mental power that depends on these attitudes or emotions but rather a quality that anyone in a normal mental state can understand and enjoy, just as every sound and healthy person can enjoy an objective bodily pleasure. A similar thing happens when we think of the murderer and his victim: it evokes feelings of horror in us, and the moral evil is simply the power to call forth this reaction. The various kinds of these intelligibles can be explained through Ṣadrā’s ­principle of the gradational reality of existence. Some corporeal qualities can be discerned by the bodily senses, such as a rock, a fragrance, the redness of a box and the sourness of a lemon. The existence of this group is either essential or

152  Justice in transcendent philosophy accidental, but still other ontic levels of incorporeal realities do not evoke bodily sensations, and included within these are the moral properties that are inherent in human action and that are conceivable only through consciousness and rational thought. In an epistemological sense, we may say that with empirical science we discern the existence of things by observation and experiment. In mathematics, there are mathematical proofs; in ethics, we discern the morally good or bad through human sentiment as well as the rational faculty. Moral facts are accessible by the rational proofs of their concrete outcomes and consequences. Moral and immoral acts undoubtedly have extra-mental effects on our lives and emotions. Our reason can distinguish the particular fact of the goodness of justice whose ‘occurrence’ happens in the mind, i.e., conceptually, but the ‘qualification’ is nevertheless objective. This kind of qualification is not a self-subsisting quality in reality, so there can be no external real ‘occurrence’ of the quality to the thing. But the source from which the concept of that quality is abstracted is existent in concreto. This kind of objective reality in transcendent philosophy can be called a ‘secondary philosophical intelligible’, so my claim in this chapter about the objectivity of justice in the realms of the human psyche, society and creation should be interpreted according to this definition of objectivity.60

Summary and conclusion In my analysis of the concept of justice in transcendent philosophy, the focal point is the powerful discourse on how moral, political and divine justice draws from the one source (sinkh) of existence and inhabits the same class of phenomena as ‘being’. With this comprehensive and ontological explanation of justice, I am extending the normal understanding of objectivism beyond that of just another instantiation of ancient standards, as articulated and developed by a group of modern Western philosophers as well as the majority of Muslim thinkers. For subjectivists, justice is a convention or arrangement amongst men, according to which moral and social behaviour as such essentially has no right and wrong or good and bad quality. Ṣadrā’s statements on the moral qualities, including social and moral justice, contrast with this conventionalism, for if all duties arise from conventions that the wise ones (‘uqalā’ al-qawm) within society create by consensus, so that there is no real and ontic force beyond, neither would there be an objective causative connection between the soul and one’s conduct, nor any extra-mental and existential perfectability through a substantial change of the human soul, which evolves through individual and social conduct in the life of each individual. A conventionalist is faced with the question of why we ought to abide by our normative agreements. Without an answer, conventionalism is circular: people regard the social norm as binding simply because it is the convention. According to our understanding of justice, a prior level of normativity licenses the obligatory force of ethical and social duty, so this theory of justice draws justice away from the conventional social contract to an objective reality, i.e., the highest order of creation, to which all levels of being ‘correspond’ and in which they participate.

Justice in transcendent philosophy  153 As such, by an ‘ontic’ theory of justice, as elaborated in this study, justice expands beyond ethics and politics into a universal and comprehensive schema. There is also a mystical justification for this doctrine; justice is ‘proper order’ or ‘equilibrium’ in both the human psyche and the universe, or in both the inward and outward realms. The nature of this connection is ontological. The ontological connection between justice and truth denotes a correspondence between the two senses of ‘right’ as ‘true’ or ‘correct’ and of ‘right’ as ‘fair’ or ‘just’ (similarly, in Arabic, the term al-ḥaqq is used in both senses). This connects with Imam ‘Ali’s view of government, where he says that Justice puts things in their right places. The connection between justice and al-ḥaqq requires the ‘just person’ (‘ādil) to be in harmony with the creation in which divine justice is bestowed, so justice is not merely for bringing some earthly reward or tangible consequence in the world but denotes accordance with the divine justice of the cosmos, which brings about unity and harmony in both the human soul and society. Unity ensues in the human soul with the equilibrium of the faculties. Within society, unity is achieved through mutual assistance and tolerance and by giving priority to the interests of others within society over one’s own. When applied to the state, as Ṣadrā explains, one of the most obvious implications of this conception of justice is the necessity of these qualities on the part of the just rulers, which we will discuss in the final chapter of the present volume.61

Notes 1 Imam ‘Ali (1381 Sh: hadith no. 429, 495). Imam ‘Ali was asked: ‘Which is better: justice or generosity?’ and he answered: ‘Justice puts everything in its place (waḍ‘ alshay’ fī mawḍi‘ih), while generosity brings out things from their own places. Justice is a common rule, while generosity is limited to particular people; therefore the better of these two is justice.’ See M.H. Ṭabāṭabā’ī (1393: XII, 276). 2 For a comprehensive discussion of justice and Muslim thinkers’ views on it, see M. Muṭahharī (2001). See also M. Fakhry (1975: 243–254); M. Khaddūrī (1984: 13, 39, 78). 3 Plato (1951: 124). For a comparative analysis of the concept of justice in Imam ‘Ali and Plato, see the essay by Bahrām Kāzemī (2001: 170). For the influence of Platonic and Neoplatonic conceptions of justice on the elaboration of this discourse in Islam, see M. Fakhry (1994: 61–147). 4 See David Keyt (2006: 341–355); Bernard Williams (1973: 197). 5 Muhammad Ibn Hasan (Shaykh) Tūsi, al-Mabsūṭ (1384 Sh: 217). 6 M.H. Tabātabāe’ī (1417: 271). 7 See Aristotle (1941b: V). Aristotle does not see the virtue of justice in quite the same comprehensive sense as Plato; he treats it as a virtue of character (in the entirety of one of the ten books of the Nicomachean Ethics, and also throughout the Eudemian Ethics), and as a virtue of the political constitution (in Politics). The question naturally arises as to the relation between these forms of justice. Aristotle seems to think they are closely related, without being synonymous applications of the same concept. 8 John M. Armstrong (1997: 325). 9 Ṣadrā (1411a: III, 127). 10 See Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī (d. 672/1273), (1360: 109). See also Jalāl al-Dīn Dawānī (d. 907/1501), (n.d.: 48–50); Shaykh Mahmud Shabistarī (d. after 741/1340), (1365/1986: vv. 594–606); Muhammad Lāhījī (d. 912/1507), (1371/1992: 401); M. Fakhry (1994: 111ff.).

154  Justice in transcendent philosophy 11 This was mainly inherited from the Greek philosophers. Socrates says a person is wise in justice if his rational part functions well and ‘by its possession in turn within it of the knowledge of what is beneficial for each [part of the soul] and for the whole, the community composed of the three,’ Plato (1951: 442c5–442c8). Therefore, the unwise man has a faulty conception of what is good for him. A person is courageous if his spiritual attitude does not change in the face of pleasure or pain but stays in agreement with reason regarding ‘what is or is not to be feared’ (442bc). Therefore, the coward, with the prospect of pain, fails to face what his reason knows is not genuinely fearsome, and the rash person will, with the prospect of pleasure, rush headlong into what his reason knows to be bad. A person is temperate when the different parts of his soul are in accord, but the intemperate person has appetitive or spirited attitudes that compete with reason, since reason deems them not to be good. Finally, a person is just when all three parts of the soul are functioning as they should Plato (1951: 441d12-e2; cf. 443c9-e2). Justice, then, brings the other virtues in its wake, and the one who is just is entirely virtuous. 12 Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: III: 177); Ṣadrā (1976: 361); Ṣadrā (1984: 691); Ṣadrā (1982a: 264); Asfār (IX, 127; IV, 183). 13 Ṣadrā (1379 Sh: 205). 14 J. Āshtīyānī (1384 Sh: 66). 15 Ṣadrā (1303: 3); Asfār (IX, 285). 16 Ṣadrā (1411a: III, 177); Ṣadrā (1976: 109). 17 Ṣadrā (1976: 488). 18 Ṣadrā (1976: 490). 19 Ṣadrā (1976: 560). 20 Asfār (VIII, 6–7); Ṣadrā (1362 Sh: 136). 21 Ṣadrā (1976: 491). 22 Asfār (IV, 212). 23 Ṣadrā (1976: 490). 24 Asfār (VII, 113). 25 Ṣadrā (1984: 58). 26 For his theological approach to this issue, see his al-Mabda’ wa al-Ma‘ād (1976: 577). 27 Ṣadrā (1411a: VI, 151–152). To compare Ṣadrā’s view with that of Ibn al-‘Arabī, the first mystic in Islam to suggest the doctrine of Nafas al-Raḥmānī, see Ibn al-‘Arabī (1422: II, 317). See also Sayyid Ḥaydar Āmulī (1422: II, 361–362). 28 Ṣadrā (1362 Sh: footnote 122); Ṣadrā (1976: 416). See Ḥājī Sabzawrī’s annotations on al-Shawāhid al-Rubūbiyya (1360 Sh: 606), where he masterfully compares the ontological levels of outward and inward existence with the inner and outer aspects of the human soul. 29 See our discussion on this issue in Chapter 2 under ‘Unity in Multiplicity: An Ontological Station of the Perfect Human Soul’. 30 Ṣadrā (1411a: VI, 267). 31 Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: I: 509); we translated al-Ināyat al-Ilāhī as ‘Providence’. The term ‘providentialism’, from the Latin providentia (providence), is a historic and philosophic method of researching the historic events from the perspective that Providence is present in such occurrences and that God has a prior plan to save people. 32 Ibn Sīnā discusses this concept in many places of his works, although Ṣadrā has not mentioned precisely what he is referring to. See, for example, Ibn Sīnā (1983a: 415); (1400b: 175–8); (1375 Sh: II; 405). Almost all Muslim philosophers treat the doctrine of divine providence in a theological context, with regard to God’s plan for the guidance and goodness of His creatures, as well as the issue of the existence of evil in the world. For example, see Fārābī (1405a, 103); Ibn al-Rushd (1377 Sh: 94); Shihāb al-Din Suhrawardī (1977: I, 83–4, 94; II, 5, 303). For the Greek background of this concept in Islamic philosophy, see B. El Fekkak (2010: 21).

Justice in transcendent philosophy  155 33 Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: I: 264). 34 This concept appears for the first time in the well-known poem of Imam ‘Ali, where he says: ‘Do you suppose that you are a tiny creature, while in you [your soul] a great world is entwined.’ In this poem, the Imam says that, although in terms of his physical size man is a small creature, he is even greater than the whole world. Inspired by this poem, mystics have sometimes used the term al-‘ālam al-kabīr to mean the human soul, but when juxtaposed with the universe as al-‘ālam al-kabīr, they use al-‘ālam al-ṣaghīr. It should be noted that al-insān al-kabīr  (cosmic man) is different from al-insān al-kāmil (the perfect man), which also has an extensive tradition in Islamic mysticism. See Sayyed Ḥaidar Āmulī (1362 Sh: 58–61). For the ‘perfect man’, see Ibn al-‘Arabī (1998: chapter 1). For more details on this see Abd al-Karīm al-Jīlī (d. 820/1417–1418). See also Reynold A. Nicholson (1984); Henry Corbin (1969: ­131–133, 211, 317). 35 Asfār (VI, 384). 36 Asfār (IX, 259). 37 In Iqāz al-Nā’imīn Ṣadrā explains how the wayfarer should conduct himself within society to be able to complete the fourth stage of the spiritual journey. According to him, no society can achieve true happiness unless all its members live in accord with moral principles and follow (are in harmony with) both the law of creation (qānūn takwīn) and the divine law (qānūn tashrī‘). See Ṣadrā (1982b: 54–56). 38 See al-Asfar (VI, 14–16). For a comprehensive discussion on Divine Providence among Muslim theologians and philosophers, see I. Kalin (2007: JIS, 18:2, 183–201), and to compare this with Western discussions, see David Burrell (2004: 43–64). 39 Asfār (III, 2, 97; VII, 55); Ṣadrā (1984: 275–276). 40 Asfār (III, 92). 41 Like Ibn Sīnā, Ṣadrā extends the definition of evil as privation to natural as well as moral evil. For more on Ṣadrā and Ibn Sīnā’s views on moral evil, see Asfār (III, 2, 61); Ibn Sīnā (1992a: 324). 42 Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 469–470). 43 Ṣadrā (1984: 200). 44 Ṣadrā (1984: 199). 45 Ṣadrā (1976: 488). 46 See Ṣadrā’s extensive explanation in his Mafātīḥ al-Ghayb on the relation between the substantial perfection of the human soul and being on the ‘Right Path’ (645–646). 47 See Ṣadrā’s explanation on the ontological relation between the habitus of virtues, particularly the habitus of justice and the perfection of the human character in Ṣadrā (1999: 83); Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 288); Ṣadrā (1382a: 260–261); Ṣadrā (1976: 145, 463– 464); Asfār (VII, 279; IX, 135–141). 48 See Ṣadrā (1999: 195). 49 Herodotus (1972: 220). 50 Plato (1951: 388e, 66). 51 Diogenes Laertius (1955: 475). 52 David Hume (1711–1776), more than any other figure in modern thought, is associated with this idea. He says: ‘When you pronounce any action or character to be vicious, you mean nothing, but that from the constitution of your nature you have a feeling or sentiment of blame from the contemplation of it’ D. Hume (1888: 468). 53 D. Hume (1888: 469). 54 In Islamic thought, this issue is discussed in theological texts under the topic of ‘the problem of reason and revelation’ or ‘the criterion of good and evil’. Mu‘tazilites and Imamis disagree with the Ash‘arites who advocate an objective moral standard of good and evil. Muslim theologians propose three different applications in which good and evil can be used: (1) good and evil in the sense of perfection and imperfection respectively; for when we say that a certain thing or action is good or bad (for instance,

156  Justice in transcendent philosophy knowledge is good and ignorance is bad), we mean that it reflects a quality of its owner, who is either good or bad; (2) when good and evil are used in a utilitarian sense, indicating gain or loss in worldly matters, since whatever is useful or has utility in our experience is good, and its opposite is bad; and (3) when good and evil are used for either praise (madḥ) or blame (dhamm) in this world, or reward and punishment in the world to come. Human action by itself is neither good nor bad, but ethical properties (awṣāf al-akhlāqī) make it either praise- or blameworthy, thus deserving of reward or punishable. Both the Ash‘arites and their opponents, the Mu‘tazilites and Imamis, agree that in the first two senses, human reason is able to discern the criterion. The third meaning is considered an ethical concept and is a central argument for Muslim thinkers. They consider it in the two following ways: 1 Ethical values are objective in the sense that they are understandable by human reason. The main supporting argument for this is that certain acts can potentially be praised by people if they are good or can be condemned if they are bad (al-madḥ wa al-dhmm al-‘uqalā’). There is a kind of social contract whereby people condemn, for example, murder and the breaking of promises. This is based on the logic that we would all be better off in a society in which murder is prohibited and promises are kept. Therefore, each of us has a good reason to accept such rules, provided that other rational people (‘uqalā’ al-qawm) accept them as well. In summary, objectivism means that the moral assessment of good and bad are rationally understandable and defensible. By such reasoning, it can be shown that the prohibitions on murder and promise-breaking, or any other moral evil, are supported by all people, of any religion and culture, and at any time and place. This interpretation of objectivism is compatible with the objectivism of the social contract theorists in Western ethics. 2 There is an objective ethical property in the sense that good and bad acts have an essential quality. By using the term dhāt (essence), Muslim theologians mean that certain actions are inherently and intrinsically either good or evil. For example, justice is intrinsically good and oppression is inherently evil. Wise men do good and abstain from the bad. Since God is Wise (Ḥakīm), Benevolent (Rahmān and Mannān) and Omnipotent (al-Qādir al-Muṭlaq), He always does what is ‘morally’ good and no evil. For more on the views of Muslim thinkers regarding this, see Khājeh Naṣīr al-Din Ṭūsī (1986: chapter 3, ‘al-Maqsad al-Thālith’); Ja‘far Sobhānī, Doctrines of Shi’i Islam (2001); Muhammad al-Husayn, Muzzafar (2000). For the arguments of the defenders of reason in Islam on this subject, see Martin Woodward (1997). For more on the theories of Contractarianism, see David Gauthier (1998: 111–126). 55 Hare’s theory of objectivism, for example, is in this sense. See R.M. Hare (1952). 56 For example, J.L. Mackie argued that if there were such properties, they would be utterly strange and unlike anything else in nature. They would have to tell us what to do and then motivate us to do it, and what sort of ‘property’ could do that? Moreover, to detect such properties we would need cognitive capacities unlike any with which we are familiar. See John L. Mackie (1998: 91). 57 This is Locke’s explanation. For more on the nature of moral properties, see John Locke (1995). 58 Asfār (I, 332; III, 425). See also Hāji Mullā Hādi Sabzevari (n.d.: II, 163–164); M. Mohaghegh and T. Izutsu (1983: 67–69). 59 See Mullā Ṣadrā (1303: 26); Fakhr al-Rāzī (1990: I: 328). 60 For more on ontic justice in Western philosophy, see Lenn E. Goodman (1996: JJTPh, vol. 5, no. 2: 155); L.E. Goodman (2015). 61 See Ṣadrā (1999: 195).

6 Ṣadrā’s narrative on the virtuous city

Synopsis In the previous chapter, I located Ṣadrā’s ontological and metaphysical discourse on the creation and Divine Providence within the traditional discussion of social justice; in the just society (al-jāmi‘at al-‘ādila), each citizen within the state is subject to the interests of the whole, which serves the individual without discrimination of race or religion and so forth. For Ṣadrā, this is a contribution to the ‘best order of the universe’ (nizām al-aḥsan fī khalq) in which all creation benefits from the blessing of life, including less perfect things that may be tainted with evil because this is a necessary element of God’s Providence (‘Ināyat Allah). In such a society, all sources of envy and conflict would be eliminated; desires are satisfied because no unreasonable desires develop, and therefore an ideal society would be established. In this chapter, within Ṣadrā’s own philosophical principles and his Shi‘i narrative of the ‘Promised Community’ (al-Arḍ al-Maw‘ūd), we introduce his view on the specification of the ideal society and its confluence with the Mahdi’s ideal society that is promised to the people of the ‘End of the World’ (Ākhira al-Zamān), a term borrowed from traditions that report the time of the reappearance of the Mahdi (zuhūr al-Mahdī), the Twelfth Imam of the Shi‘a. Imam Mahdi is to return one day from his Greater Occultation (al-­Ghaybat al-Kubrā) and establish an ideal state with a virtuous city. In this respect, two other concepts are involved in Ṣadrā’s discourse: that of the Minor Arising (Qīyāmat al-Ṣughrā), which precedes the Great Arising (Resurrection), and the Second Return (Raj‘a). In our discussion, we mainly compare Ṣadrā with Fārābī who, among Muslim philosophers, made the most extensive and novel contributions to the concept of the virtuous city (al-madīnat al-fāḍila). Having made a brief comparison between the two philosophers, I will deal with Ṣadrā’s distinct discourse on the virtuous city and fill in aspects of the key assumptions about the pedagogy and practice of the spiritual journey within society, with premises that I borrowed from his theories in ‘ilm al-nafs, addressed in Chapter 2, as well as our discussion in Chapter 4 on the confluence of the human intellect and the divine law.

158  The virtuous city

The virtuous city For the majority of philosophers, the virtuous city is something that everybody strives for but is never realised because it is highly improbable that such a perfect society could ever be achieved in this world. Even so, there is no guarantee that such a place would endure. In Western political thought, the virtuous city has also been described as a utopia,1 a term first coined by Thomas More for his book Utopia (1516).2 More himself was drawing on earlier imaginings, going back to ancient and Greek philosophy.3 A major work preceding More’s in this field was Plato’s Republic, and its influence on Utopia is extensive.4 The only ancient authors other than Plato who have been mentioned as possibly influencing or suggesting a comparison with More are Lycurgus, Cicero and St. Augustine. St. Augustine’s famous De Civitate Dei (City of God) in particular is frequently cited as a source for Utopia, and it was, of course, well-known to More. The basic plan of Augustine’s book is different from the  Republic,  although Augustine was a devoted admirer of Plato. By the same token, More’s work differs in its basic concept from Augustine’s, though echoes of Augustine are inevitably to be found in More.5 In Islam, it was Fārābī who for the first time wrote a utopian tract called al-madīnat  al-fāḍila (the virtuous city). The virtuous city is a central theme of Fārābī’s political doctrine, and its guiding principle is the realisation of human excellence through virtue. His description of ‘excellent’ and ‘ignorant’ cities is obviously a shadow of Plato’s Republic and develops an account of the virtuous city and the virtuous man and contrasts them with several contraries.6 In contrast to the virtuous city, Fārābī identifies the corrupt city as al-madīnat al-jāhila (the ignorant city).7 The people in the ‘ignorant city’ are unaware of real happiness, and their characteristics are the pursuit of affluence, sexual desire and individual prestige. Fārābī clearly outlines what one needs to know in order to become a citizen of the virtuous city, including a particular knowledge and way of life.8 At the heart of Fārābī’s vision of the virtuous city is the concept of happiness (sa‘āda), and the souls who attain happiness live close to or within the Active Intellect. The virtuous city can only be established only if all the constituent parts collaborate to achieve happiness. If some form of salvation is assured for the inhabitants of the virtuous city, and if the essence of that city is happiness, then it is no exaggeration to say that salvation is the reward of those who cooperate to achieve human happiness. In contrast to Plato and Aristotle,9 Fārābī does not confine his interest to the felicity of the principal ruler: ‘I am equally concerned with the felicity of all the classes which make up the perfect.’10 According to Fārābī, the virtuous city is not an imaginary place, but neither is it part of the material world. It is rather a place where the citizens can live with the hope of achieving ultimate happiness in the virtuous city of the intelligible world.11 Although the citizens of the virtuous city attain ultimate happiness, man begins his ascending journey here in the material world, and as long as the individual souls remain within the Active Intellect, they are happy and find eternal rest because they continuously contemplate what is above them, which essentially unites them to the One.12

The virtuous city  159 In order to make the ascending journey, certain things are required of these souls, which for Fārābī include both knowledge and action. Having true knowledge and living accordingly actually compel the citizens of the virtuous city to live as strangers within the material world. By acquiring this knowledge and acting accordingly, the citizen of the virtuous city can recognise the higher soul that inhabits the intelligible world. This is highest virtue and ultimate perfection and is identical with the supreme happiness available to man. ‘Happiness is the good desired for itself, it is never desired to achieve by it something else, and there is nothing greater beyond it that a human being can achieve.’13 Here we observe some elements of Plotinus in Fārābī’s vision.14 Plotinus’s World Soul is described as corresponding to a city in the intelligible world and is thus eternal. Within this city, there is a hierarchy of souls based on the ability to reason. The city is governed by Nous, but the individual souls residing there contribute to the orderliness of this city.15 For Plotinus, the World Soul is where each soul attains ultimate happiness, and authentic human happiness for Plotinus is when the true person identifies with that which is best in the universe. Because happiness is beyond anything material, Plotinus stresses that true happiness does not depend on worldly fortune and that therefore ‘there exists no single human being that does not either potentially or effectively possess this thing we hold to constitute happiness’.16 The true person lies in the incorporeal, contemplative capacity of the soul and is superior to all matter. It then follows that real human happiness is independent of the physical world. True happiness is, instead, dependent on the metaphysical and authentic human being found in this highest capacity of Reason. Distancing himself in this point from Plotinus, Fārābī, however, believes that the attainment of happiness, both on earth and in the afterlife, is man’s greatest goal, the point from which Ṣadrā begins his political doctrine. Like Aristotle, Fārābī thought that the best society should, above all, maintain order and provide the opportunity for people to attain happiness in safe, comfortable and enjoyable circumstances.17 As with Fārābī, human virtue and happiness are central to Ṣadrā’s politics, and Ṣadrā likewise classifies two types of society, as the virtuous and the non-virtuous city. He refers to the non-virtuous city as an ignorant and imperfect community. In this regard, he quotes from Fārābī’s Ārā Ahl al-Madīnat al-Fāḍila: Superior goodness (khayr) and ultimate perfection are only obtained through the full cooperation of the people of a virtuous city, community or world. The imperfect and ignorant community or world, whose people do wrong and have evil intentions, is never able to achieve goodness.18 In his Kasr Aṣnām al-Jāhilliya, Mullā Ṣadrā introduces his ‘ignorant’ society. He complains of the ignorance of the people who have forgotten true knowledge and expresses his sadness over the corruption and the prevalence of evil amongst them.19 In the seventh chapter of the last section of his al-Mabda’ wa al-Ma‘ād, he deals with the issue of the virtuous city (al-madīnat al-fāḍila) and the ideal state. First, he discusses the importance for the flourishing of the human talents

160  The virtuous city in society and then describes various types of society. He maintains that the people of the virtuous city have the opportunity to achieve the most excellent good because in such a society the ruler and all the people assist each other in the pursuit of truth and goodness, whilst in an imperfect society all ignorant people combine to create evil:20 The best goodness and ultimate perfection would be the virtuous city and its virtuous people, because in such a society the people assist each other to attain moral virtue and goodness, in contrast to the ignorant city in which the people encourage each other to do evil. Therefore, the virtuous city is like the healthy body of a human being, in which all the parts and organs co-operate with each other in order to have a perfect and healthy bodily life.21 One of the characteristics that distinguishes Ṣadrā’s virtuous city is his mystical approach; consequently he emphasises the divinely transcendent aspects of the inhabitants, who instinctively and ceaselessly strive for a better spiritual life by means of the capacities invested in them by God, since whoever does not employ their vital powers and physical attributes to this spiritual end is no more than a corpse. Thus people work and act in various ways not just because they are compelled to do so but because they are human, and they perceive through their innate intelligence that they must struggle to realise their potentialities and secure happiness by the best means available. Human beings are created with the responsibility to carry out and fulfil a range of tasks appointed by revelation and have the intellect to actualise their potential perfection. Such creatures will understand the value of life in society and their responsibilities to other people. They know the value of the public good as a means for their own happiness and that of all mankind: The purpose of sending His Prophet is for the general public interest (naf‘ al-‘āmm) in the virtuous city. This is a Mercy from God for perfecting the community, and whosoever enjoys this Mercy will achieve the true happiness and goodness in this world and next.22 Another characteristic of Ṣadrā’s virtuous city is rooted in his metaphysical doctrine where all beings within the divine wisdom (al-ḥimat al-ilāhī) are perpetually endeavouring to find the appropriate path to perfection. This point is stated in two Qur’anic verses: ‘Who created and proportioned; And Who destined and [then] guided’ (87:2–3). Interpreting this verse, Mullā Ṣadrā explains that God creates a being, bestows upon it in proper measure the characteristics each species requires, and then guides it towards what its nature or essence demands. This same principle is found in every particular being and in all existence, including human beings.23 Elsewhere he states that human beings have been created with an innate ability (fiṭra) to understand good and evil, and it is up to them to decide between them.24 Human beings are not left without divine support and guidance, however; the guidance spoken of is offered in the religious and ritual commands that have

The virtuous city  161 reached us from God’s prophets. The office of divine prophecy, in Ṣadrā’s mind, is a blessing (luṭf ) from God conferred upon His servants. The focal point, however, is that although Ṣadrā’s virtuous city has a spiritual orientation. The political order within it is not simply oriented towards otherworldly reward, but rather it obliges people to keep in sight this-worldly goals as well. It is a system inspired by Ṣadrā’s esoteric interpretation of Qur’anic teachings and holds that the people should be trained in knowledge and character so that they become real lovers of God. Based upon this outlook, he gives a special place to the fourth stage of the spiritual journey, when the wayfarer needs to return to the people (khalq). For example, in his Tafsīr al-Qur’an, he mentions more than ten times that the reason for the high spiritual station of the prophets and saints is that they return to society after their seclusion (min al-Ḥaqq ila al-khalq), deal with worldly affairs and serve the people, while their attention remains trained towards the proximity of God. They live in the multiplicity of the material world, but at the same time they are in the realm of unity and annihilation in God.25 This stage of reconciliation is the highest station that one can achieve and makes man nobler than the angels: From the rank of the angels one ascends to the rank of the lovers. Among them are those who are intent upon being in proximity to Him, devoted to beholding the beauty of the divine presence, glorifying the Face [of God] and calling Him holy, without abating. This is the utmost limit of human perfection, which is the station shared by the prophets and saints.26 There is no question of performing actions in the virtuous city for display to o­ thers or to seek a good reputation, nor is there any reason to look to, fear or rely on anyone or anything other than God. Once the individual firmly knows that real ­happiness is nearness to God and submission to His Will, then he will be cleansed from evil in both soul and body. As a result, the human soul will be adorned with divinely given, virtuous characteristics such as piety, might, self-respect and -­sufficiency, and godliness through reliance on God alone. Ṣadrā believes that God’s servant, whose soul is attracted to Him by love, goes through ever higher stages until he feels the divine presence attracting him in his meditation and love for Him.27 This exulted degree of happiness and perfection is possible in the v­ irtuous city, and man’s breast is expanded28 insofar as he is not so immersed in multiplicity that he neglects the contemplation of pure Unity.29 According to Mullā Ṣadrā, all goodness and happiness are defined within this mystical perspective and the spiritual journey of the human soul, and all other moral goodness is an extrinsic good (khayr bil ‘araḍ). This means that any moral goodness, like justice, freedom or wisdom, is desirable and virtuous if it leads to this final goal of creation. The substantial motion (ḥarakat al-jawharī) of the human soul through the entire spiritual journey reaches the highest station, but this is very rarely achieved: The status of unity with the Active Intellect, which is the equal of the Divine Realm, as in the verse: ‘Say, “The Spirit is by command of my Lord”’ (17:85),

162  The virtuous city happens for few people. This state requires God’s grace, so the effort of the wayfarer alone is not enough, as we have in a hadith saying that the grace of God is equal to the worship of all people.30 In contrast to those who attain this noble station of unity are those miserable people who have always to remain in the prison of material multiplicity, deprived of the light of Unity: Contrary to the connected wayfarer (sālik al-wāṣil) [on the path of unity] are the wretched people who are far from the station of unity. This group sinks to the realm of multiplicity and distraction (fī al-kathrat wa al-tazāḥum). As if they have chosen this world as their permanent abode, they do not know that by doing wrong and following their bodily desire, they draw near to Hell.31 The movement away from multiplicity passes from a state of existential poverty (faqr al-wujūdī) to that of contentment and richness. To make this journey, one needs to realise one’s existential poverty, and this leads to an understanding of the state of unity pertaining to the Divine Acts (tawḥīd al-‘af ‘ālī). This is the station of annihilation within the Divine Acts. If one reaches the stage where one comprehends that God is the real creator of everything, even human acts, then the state of acquiescence (riḍā) is attained: By the light of spirituality the wayfarer can achieve the station of annihilation of his will in God’s Will: [as the Qur’an says] ‘And it is not becoming for a believing man or a believing woman, when God and His Messenger have decided an affair, that they have any option in the matter’ (33:36), and when the wayfarer realises that God’s creation is in the best possible order, this is the station of acquiescence to God. At this point the wayfarer will see everything in the best order and beauty. The cognition of such person will totally change and his vision reverts from darkness to the light of true knowledge.32 Those of this spiritual rank understand the arrangement of all creation and understand that there is no possible world that is better than the one that exists. Therefore, they consent to the order of creation and attempt to perfect their existence within the existing law of creation. According to Ṣadrā, a society whose citizens have such a worldview will be able to overcome the difficulties of the material world and the obstacles on the journey from multiplicity. This station of acquiescence is the hallmark of those in the virtuous city and is in contrast to the ignorant city (al-madīnat al-jāhila), where the lack of knowledge of the wisdom in God’s creation means that the people fight against the Will of God and do not consent to the reality of His creation: Some seek nothing but their bodily desires and anger. They do not know the essential purpose of the bodily faculties and their transcendence. They give all their attention to the material things of the lower world, whereas man’s

The virtuous city  163 faculties are created as tools for a transcendent purpose; they should guide him to the perfect society in a virtuous city (madīnat al-fāḍila), and finally to the highest goodness (khayr al-a‘lā’) and the Divine Kingdom (malakūt).33 The influence of Fārābī and his predecessors on Mullā Ṣadrā regarding the concept of the virtuous city is extensive; nevertheless, given the foregoing characteristics of the virtuous city in Ṣadrā’s discourse, one can easily distinguish him from Greek and other Muslim thinkers in this matter. In the following discussion, having examined some political implications of his mystical narrative on the virtuous city, we introduce Ṣadrā’s Shi‘i approach to this political concept and how the subject of the reappearance (zuhūr) of Twelfth Shi‘a Imam is involved.

The virtuous city: a transitional stage on the way to the great arising (al-Qiyāmat al-Kubrā) My next argument in this respect is that our previous discussions on the virtuous city resonate with Ṣadrā’s eschatological, metaphysical and mystical discourse. According to him, true unity with the Active Intellect and annihilation in the Divine Kingdom (al-fanā’ fi al-Malakūt) as ultimate perfection can only happen in the next world;34 however, there is also a state of annihilation that occurs in this world, the precondition of which is the overcoming of bodily desires and freedom from the ego. The virtuous city may provide an environment for citizens to achieve this noble position. For Ṣadrā, the virtuous city is a perfect place that provides its inhabitants with an environment where they can prepare for the Great Arising and the major annihilation. This clearly defines Ṣadrā’s mystical approach to politics and the priorities he considered in his philosophical career, which cannot be seen in his predecessors. Worldly needs and bodily desires are not overlooked, but, above all, the spiritual goal should be the primary aim of life in society: The citizens of the virtuous city are travellers. They may do this either openly or in a hidden way, but we have to say that if they make this journey openly and other people know them, then those others will be benefitted from their spiritual mood. In this society the traveller also benefits by being open with people.35 There is a political message in making the spiritual journey openly as part of one’s mystical responsibility. He explains how practising the spiritual journey within society is a prerequisite for a successful mystical journey, where one completes one’s journey ‘from God to the creation’ (min al-Ḥaqq ila al-khalq).36 According to Ṣadrā, this is analogous to God’s Will and ‘the best order of creation’,37 since the goal of creation is universal goodness (khayr al-kullī) for all beings, and the aim of the traveller in society is to serve the people and bring them to happiness and goodness. In line with correspondence between inner and outward existence and the human psyche and society, there is a mutual connection between individual perfection and the perfect society, i.e., the stages in the perfection of the virtuous city are not realised without the spiritual travellers.

164  The virtuous city The virtuous city is not simply a society without defect because such a place would only be imaginary and never become a reality; there are certain negative aspects to it, just as within the cosmos: Although there are particular deficiencies and evils in the material world, the totality is perfectly good. These evils are accidents which are caused by the material nature of the corporeal existents. The creation of such a world [with its evils] is the Divine Providence (al-Ināyat al-Ilāhī) that gives all levels of existence the opportunity to enjoy a perfect life. God has provided everything for His creatures to grow, develop and move to higher states, until they all reach their origin and unite with His Kingdom. When the material world comes to an end and the Great Arising (Qīyāmat al-Kubrā) occurs, all evil and corruption will be removed. On this day, infidelity and its like will perish and the Truth and its signs will rise, and every person will witness the ultimate goal of the creation.38 This tells us that a universe or society with no defect or evil can only occur at the time of the Great Arising and the next world. The material world always has physical, material deficiencies that result in some kind of evil. Obviously the virtuous city is not a place beyond the material world, so it cannot be without material conditions and requirements. It is neither an imaginary place nor an absolutely perfect place, but rather a place where the people have a certain level of knowledge and understanding that enables them to follow the path to perfection. It is an intermediate stage on the way towards the ultimate perfection, which will occur in the next world when people leave all their physical characteristics behind, and real justice, the Divine Justice, comes about in the Great Arising (Qīyāmat al-Kubrā): Due to God’s all-encompassing Mercy, the complete fulfilment of justice is adjourned until the Day of Resurrection, the day in which all hidden realities will be revealed. That day is the time of absolute judgement, for as God says, He is ‘Master of the Day of Judgement’ (1:4). The secret of this is that if the complete judgement occurred in this world, no one could live with another, because everyone would be aware of the others’ secrets, and this would destroy trust and the unity of the people (ummat al-wāḥida).39 Therefore, ‘real justice’ (‘idālat al-ḥaqqa) will be in the Hereafter because it requires the disclosure of all hidden truth, which in this world needs a certain degree of privacy. Ṣadrā says that this is why the promised justice of the Just Government (Dawlat al-‘Adl)40 of the virtuous city is somehow a rehearsal of the real justice in the Hereafter. I would explain the foregoing point with the two Sadrian concepts of ‘intangible reality’ (raqīqa) and ‘true reality’ (ḥaqīqa).41 Justice as an ontic reality has, like existence itself, different modes of reality in term of intensity and weakness: perfect justice at the time of the Great Arising and the justice at the time of Twelfth Imam for which he will one day reappear are real justice, but the latter has a more

The virtuous city  165 tenuous form (raqīqa) than the former (as ḥaqīqa), like two levels of existence or two grades of light, which are actual existence and light in their literal meanings but different in term of intensity. Therefore, the justice in the virtuous city of the Imam is still real justice, as promised in the hadiths on the Mahdi’s ideal society at the ‘End of the World’ (Ākhira al-Zamān), but it differs, however, from the Divine Justice of the Hereafter. Looking at this issue from a theological perspective, I would say that this is because the mission of the Imam is to deal with the people using his normal, earthly faculties and to judge them according to the usual human criteria. His mission is not to govern society as if God were seeing the inner realities and secrets of the people. Such judgement can be performed only by God in the Next World. Before that, however, the people of the virtuous city need only conform to the just society, whilst they still maintain the secrets of their souls. As Ṣadrā confirms, it is as if the people in the virtuous city experience one level of the justice and goodness of the Divine Unity: Whoever wishes to comprehend the Great Arising (Qīyāmat al-Kubrā) in the Hereafter, the signs of the Truth and Its manifestations, and to grasp the meaning of the total annihilation of the spheres, spirits and souls, should understand the principle I have already demonstrated, that is, the principle of the innate momentum of every low existent to a higher state and the return of every entity to its spiritual abode through a substantial motion. God says: ‘And the trumpet will be blown, and whoever is in the heavens will swoon and whoever is on the earth, except whomever God wishes’ (39:68), and they are those who have known beforehand the Great Arising.42 The characteristics of the virtuous city in Ṣadrā’s thought just outlined are intertwined with the Twelver Shi‘i narrative of the End of the World (Ākhira al-Zamān) when Imam Mahdi will reappear from his Occultation. These two concepts in Shi‘i theological discourse are also called the Minor Arising (Qīyāmat al-Ṣughrā) or the time of the Second Return (Raj‘a), when certain other personages, including prophets, imams and saints, will return to life: We confirm the authenticity of the numerous hadiths from our Imams and the Household of the Prophet on the Second Return (Raj‘a), the event which will occur with the reappearance of Imam Mahdi, the Awaited Riser of the ­Household of Muhammad. The intellect also can justify [sees no rational impossibility in] this event in which other prophets like Jesus, Shimon and others will return to life.43

Other characteristics of the virtuous city in Ṣadrā’s thought One community (Ummat al-Wāḥida) The people of the virtuous city are aware of the goodness and significance of creation. They do not give priority to themselves if doing so goes against general

166  The virtuous city interests. This is why, in the virtuous city, there is no dispute or disagreement on the Truth because the citizens are aware of the Divine Grace whereby God has bestowed His mercy upon every existent. Seeking God’s pleasure, they are tolerant of and understand those who do not have similar beliefs.44 After Ṣadrā explains these characteristics, he says that this is probably the logic behind those hadiths in which the promised state instigated by al-Mahdi is described as one where all the religions and different nations follow the one true religion: Therefore, al-Mahdi (peace be upon him) will remove disputation from among the literalists (zāhirites). For them the different interpretations of the Shari‘a and interpretative reasoning (ijtihād) [different views on jurisprudential issues] will disappear, and the people will witness the agreement [of the scholars] in the interpretation of religion. At this time [of the Imam’s reappearance], due to the removal of the veils from the hearts, all people will find the Truth.45 It seems that this can be true with regard to the majority of citizens and does not mean that the people of the virtuous city cannot believe in other religions because it is a city of justice, freedom and equality, where each person or group may choose their own ways of life and beliefs. The just government in the virtuous city does not force people to follow the ideas of the rulers or a certain class of the citizens; therefore they have the right to follow their own beliefs.46 This understanding of the concept of Ummat al-Wāḥida is justified by Ṣadrā, as he declares that social justice guarantees the happiness of each individual without consideration of race, religion or a social class: The happiness of each person and the community as a whole is due to social justice and security, and this in turn is due to the just ruler, because this is the origin of every good, and wards off evil and corruption.47 Shari‘a and the virtuous city Ṣadrā introduces the Shari‘a and the revealed truth (dīn) as the central feature of the virtuous city, which guides the people in their understanding of the main purpose of worldly life and the inner aspects of reality, and helps them avoid any excess (ifrāṭ) or insufficiency (tafrīṭ) with respect to their physical and worldly affairs. Yet, bearing this in mind, according to Ṣadrā, religion reveals both the inner and outer aspects of material reality, its benefits and the aim of creation, so that people may have a true picture of the world and its higher purpose: Through the Shari‘a, people can be free from bodily ties. In this situation [being faithful to religion] the exterior world (‘ālam al-zāhir) will obey its inner aspects and bodily entities will be governed by intellects. The people of the exterior [those who are too attached to the exterior and material aspects of reality] suffer from material restrictions and evil more than those who

The virtuous city  167 understand the inner aspects of world. . . . If politics (siyāsa) does not follow the Shari‘a [i.e., if it is not considered a source of law], man will not become aware of the hidden aspects of worldly life and [will] remain at the exterior level.48 At this point I  would argue that although the Shari‘a is a central element in Ṣadrā’s politics, he never overlooks the human intellect (‘aql). As discussed in Chapter  4, Ṣadrā emphasises that the people have the ability to manage their worldly affairs, although they cannot sufficiently comprehend all the inner spiritual aspects of reality and the requirements for happiness in the next world. Therefore, as a religious philosopher, his devotion to the human intellect clearly takes him far from modern secular politics, where government institutions function separately from  religion.49 As opposed to secular politics, Ṣadrā believes that a political system that follows the Shari‘a would be a comprehensive system by which man may achieve happiness in this world and the next, with both material and spiritual benefits. Having said this, he says the Shari‘a starts where human politics leaves off, which is to say that human reason and secular politics are not enough for humanity as a path from the world of matter to the realm of divinity: The Shari‘a is a progression whose starting point is the end-point of human [secular] politics (sīyāsat al-basharī), because it is the Shari‘a that takes the man from the realm of material multiplicities (katharat al-jismānī) to the realm of divine unity. The Shari‘a takes man to the Divine Kingdom and wards off material frustration, extreme desire and passion.50 For Ṣadrā, secular politics (sīyāsa) consists of many worldly benefits and advantages, but it has no spiritual inclination, so there has to be something more to give life and spirit to material productions:51 Mankind needs human politics and a just government to fairly distribute lands, wealth and worldly facilities among the citizens, otherwise society will be distracted and the situation will become difficult. . . . [T]his [lack of human politics] would cause disorder in society, and the wayfarers would be hindered in their spiritual journey by obstructing the people from worship and the remembrance (dhikr) of God.52 At this point once again, we are reminded of the famous words of Mullā Ṣadrā that say ‘the relationship between politics and the Shari‘a is like that between the body and the spirit; politics without the Shari‘a is like a body with no life.’53 As the body and the soul constitute a single entity that can live perfectly in this world, whilst leaving the predominantly material matters to human politics, both the Shari‘a (as spirit) and human politics (as the body) would work better together, establishing a complete political system that would bring happiness in both this world and the next.54

168  The virtuous city Attributes of the citizens in the virtuous city Those who seek the higher meaning of life are the people of wisdom and ­virtue (ahl al-ḥikmat wal faḍīla). They perfect their practical and theoretical reason and free themselves from the physical passions. They do not seek their personal ­benefit alone but help others to bring about equality, peace, security and the common welfare of all.55 Ṣadrā says that Ibn Sīnā describes the people of the virtuous city as follows: The people of the virtuous city remember their Lord with Names most reverent. Wherever they may be – at home or at work – their hearts are always with God.56 He notes also that Ibn Sīnā says that the people of the virtuous city not only devote their hearts to God but also serve others and the state, so that the whole community always benefits from their presence. They do this not just for worldly benefit but for the higher aim of completing the spiritual journey: The people of the virtuous city seek the perfection of their souls, to achieve the state of unity with the Active Intellect. With their bodily and intellectual faculties they assist the government to implement the divine law.57 In contrast, the people of the ignorant city – the enemies of God who deny Him – have no goodness (khayr), and no benefit comes to them: The people of the ignorant city are unbelievers (mushrikīn) and deny the Truth. They are the enemy of God and His prophets. They do not believe in the miracle of God’s messengers, and instead they follow magicians (kahanah) and superstitions (wahm). These people are usually intolerant and do nothing to assist each other.58 The virtuous city is a living community in which the people work for their own future benefit. In Chapter 7, we will address Ṣadrā’s narrative about a comprehensive rational method for allocating an authentic political ruler within society. However, with regard to the involvement of the citizens at large in establishing a particular political system and a method of electing leaders, we cannot find any substantial information in Ṣadrā’s work. Only in one place is there an indirect reference to a social contribution (mushārakat al-ijtimā‘ī) by the citizens, but other than that, there is no suggestion of any form of citizens’ contribution in political election: There are two wise policies, the moral and the political, both of which speak of the issues pertaining to free agents [the people]. Further divided, these can be separated into three kinds: there is the people’s contribution to society (mushārakat al-ijtimā‘ī), known as the management of the city (tadbīr

The virtuous city  169 al-madīna), and the science of politics; there is the knowledge pertaining to man’s contribution at home, which is called managing the home (tadbīr almanzil); and there is the personal matter of purifying the self, which is called the science of ethics.59 The people’s involvement in society is an essential characteristic to the extent that Ṣadrā reminds us that it is part of the definition of politics, but whether or not this can be interpreted as the people’s contribution in setting up the political system and electing the ruler is an issue that we discuss in more detail in the next chapter.

Summary and conclusion By our investigation into Ṣadrā’s scattered statements concerning the virtuous city, we might draw a new picture on this key political concept, in which the virtuous city is neither ‘no place’ nor an imaginary ideal city. It is also neither a place beyond the material world, nor does it belong only to the time of the reappearance of Imam Mahdi; it is rather an intermediate stage where the people have a certain level of understanding that enables them to practise a good life. Consequently, the virtuous city is not an absolutely perfect place but a station for the refinement of the human soul, and also, in fact, a pathway to the al-Qīyāmat al-Kubrā of the next world, where every person, by the spiritual journey in the material world, can equally achieve the state of unity with the Truth. Human society, as part of the cosmos in which all the diverse levels of the existents live together and substantially change towards one single objective, should pass through a process of perfection, which will finally lead mankind to one community, with no national, racial or cultural borders and discrimination. This is because God has bestowed His Providence (‘Ināyat) and Grace (Luṭf ) in this world upon all individuals, regardless of race, belief or genealogy, and has provided everything for His creatures to grow towards the highest possible level. Certain concepts in modern politics, like freedom, democracy and human rights, were not the concern of Muslim medieval philosophers, including Mullā Ṣadrā. The Arabic word sīyāsa is defined as the science of ‘managing the society’ (tadbīr al-mudun) and deals mainly with the duties of those who govern rather than the ‘rights’ of each citizen. If Ṣadrā was alive in the twentieth century, he would probably try to reconcile religion with contemporary philosophical concerns, for then we would be able to form a new definition of political theory, only then linking it with concepts such as freedom, democracy and the rights of the people. Nevertheless, despite his religious inclinations and attempts to involve religion in politics, he realised that the social sciences also required an independent rational approach. Therefore, Ṣadrā opposes the idea of an exclusively maximalist religious politics in the ideal society. For example, when he explains the political authority of the jurists, he very clearly maintains that many standards concerning worldly matters should be decided according to human reasoning rather than Shari‘a. We will elaborate in more detail this important aspect of his political philosophy in the next chapter. He is also very realistic and believes that it is more or

170  The virtuous city less impossible to have a perfect society in this world. We are human, after all, and should accept the difficulty of developing a perfect state, even after the reappearance of the Mahdi, although this obviously goes against the common consensus of the Twelver Shi‘a, who believe that the Twelfth Imam will return at an unspecified time and establish an ideal state of peace and justice.

Notes 1 This is often used as a synonym for a perfect world where there are no problems and people live according to perfect laws and in complete harmony. The word ‘utopia’ is constructed from two Greek words: topos, meaning ‘place’, and ou, meaning ‘no’. Thus, utopia is ‘nowhere’, an imaginary place. See, for example, Sargent Lyman Tower (2010: 21); Ruth Levitas (1990). 2 See Thomas More (2005). 3 Five hundred years ago, Thomas More, King Henry VIII’s powerful adviser, published a small book in Latin that has echoed through the ages. Utopia, narrated by a traveller, describes a fictional island society in the Atlantic Ocean. For specifications of More’s Utopia and its background in ancient philosophy, see Wayne A. Rebhorn (2005). 4 The central theme of both works is the search for justice. In the Republic, the rulers are to be a group of intelligent, unselfish men called ‘guardians’ or philosopher-kings, who conduct public affairs for the good of the whole nation. Throughout the society, life is directed by a high moral code of conduct. An educational system for the intelligentsia is elaborately and idealistically designed. The equality of men and women is proposed in both works, though with certain qualifications. There is allowance made in Plato’s scheme for the practice of slavery, as there is in More’s. There are, on the other hand, departures from Plato in Utopia, some quite radical. The Republic establishes a sharply defined class structure – a ruling intelligentsia; a warrior class; commoners, consisting of merchants, artisans and labourers; and finally, at the lowest level, the slaves. Utopians recognise no such gradations amongst their citizens. There is also a sharp difference in the treatment of families. In the Republic, women and children are held in common – ‘there is no marrying, nor giving in marriage’ – and mating is regulated to serve eugenic ends; whereas in Utopia, the family unit is the core of the entire social structure. For more on the comparison between the notions of utopia in Plato and More, see Martin N. Raitiere (1973: 144–165). 5 Frank E. Manuel and Fritzie P. Manuel (1979: 1–33). 6 For the influence of Plato on Fārābī regarding this concept, see Brown (2009). 7 Fārābī categorises the ignorant city in three ways: the dissolute city (al-madīnat al-fāsiqa), the turncoat city (al-madīnat al-mubaddila), and the straying city (al-madīnat al-ḍālla). See al-Fārābī (1964: 87); Fārābī (1985). 8 See Gina M. Bonelli (2009: 209). 9 For more on the comparison between Fārābī, Plato and Aristotle, see al-Fārābī (1985: 410). 10 In this society, the people will differ with regard to the characteristics of reason and levels of knowledge and hence with regard to their share of perfection or happiness. They can be divided broadly into the following three classes: (1) the wise, or the philosophers, (2) the followers of the philosophers who trust and accept their judgement, and (3) the rest of the citizens, some more and others less adequate, depending on their rank in society. See Fārābī (1895: 46). Cf. Fārābī (1964: 43–44). See also Fārābī (1405: 33, 46–48). 11 Fārābī (2001c: 65–66). See Fārābī’s metaphysical explanation on this matter, combining Neoplatonic and Aristotelian views, in M. Mahdi (2001: 6–11, 121–124).

The virtuous city  171 12 In order to see how Fārābī’s political views presented in both The Political Regime and The Virtuous City stem from his own cosmology and metaphysics, see Fārābī (1964: 31); Fārābī (2015: 29). 13 Fārābī (1895: 46). Cf. Fārābī (1963: 72–75, 78). 14 The best known Arabic source for Fārābī’s political philosophy is al-Madīnat al-Fāḍila, while this work undoubtedly embraces Platonic themes. 15 Armstrong A.H., (1966–1988: IV, 8.4). 16 Armstrong A.H., (1966–1988: I, 4). 17 The influence of Aristotle in the thought of Fārābī is apparently marred by examining Fārābī’s Neoplatonism. Miriam Galston suggests that to examine Fārābī’s Neoplatonism is to ‘cease taking him seriously as an illuminator of Aristotle’. Miriam Galston (1990: 14). According to Mahdi, this ‘political philosophy’ is the political science of the ancients, of Plato’s Republic and Aristotle’s Politics. Muhsin Mahdi (2001: 14). 18 Ṣadrā (1976: 489). Cf. Ṣadrā (2004: II, 421–422). To compare Ṣadrā’s statement with Fārābī, see Fārābī (1985: Selected Aphorisms, no. 57); Fārābī (2001c: 37). See also Joshua Parens (1995). 19 See Ṣadrā (1381a: 217–228). 20 In this book, Ṣadrā is inspired by Fārābī more than any other Islamic philosopher. According to Fārābī, human beings, like any natural species, have a perfect state towards which they tend. He says that ‘every being is made to achieve the ultimate perfection it is susceptible of achieving according to its specific place in the order of being. Man’s specific perfection is called supreme happiness; and each man, according to his rank in the order of humanity, belongs to the specific supreme happiness pertaining to this kind of man’. See Fārābī (1969: 43). Elsewhere Fārābī says that the human being cannot work towards this perfection other than by exploiting a large number of natural beings and manipulating them to render them useful. An isolated individual cannot attain all the perfections without the aid of many other individuals. It is the innate disposition of every man to join others in the labour he ought to perform. Therefore, to achieve what he can of that perfection, every man needs to stay in the proximity of others and associate with them. See Fārābī (2001c: 88, 106); Ralph Lerner and Muhsin Mahdi (1963: 60). Compare with Plato (1951: 369–371) and Aristotle (1984: I, 2). 21 Ṣadrā (1976: 490). 22 Asfār (VII, 99). 23 Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: VII, 383–385). Cf. M.H. Ṭabāṭabā’ī (1376 Sh: 197–198). 24 Asfār (IX, 285, 350). 25 See Ṣadrā (1411a: I, 97; II, 231; IV, 398; V, 19; VI, 215, 285; VII, 374, 380). 26 Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 340). 27 Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 341). 28 A Qur’anic term (94:1) meaning that someone’s heart has received the light of imān. 29 Ṣadrā (1379 Sh: 402). 30 Ṣadrā (1982a: 235). 31 Ṣadrā (1984: 676). 32 Ṣadrā (1379: 225). 33 Asfār (VIII, 170). 34 Commenting on the Qur’anic verses, ‘Everything will perish other than His Face’ (28:88) and ‘[E]veryone that is thereon [the earth] will pass away; and there will remain the Countenance of your Lord’ (55:26–7), Ṣadrā explains the annihilation of the human soul in the next world as follows: ‘When the time of contingency ends and the Kingdom of God begins [in the Hereafter], the material form will be annihilated in God’s Countenance like drops of water in the ocean or like solid bodies which dissolve in the heat of the sun.’ Ṣadrā (1984: 438). 35 Ṣadrā (1411a: IV, 64). 36 Ṣadrā (1302: 266).

172  The virtuous city 37 38 39 40

41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49

50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59

Asfār (IV, 114; VI, 316). Cf. M.H. Tabātabā’ī (2009: xvii). Ṣadrā (1984: 409). Ṣadrā (1411a: I, 151; VI, 133, 161). According to Shi‘a belief, one of the most important missions of al-Mahdi, the Twelfth Imam, is to establish a worldwide just government. Numerous hadiths mention this as his main function, e.g., ‘al-Mahdi will appear as the just judge. . . . [H]e will distribute goods and property, but due to the prevailing abundance none will accept them’. Ibn al-Ḥajar al-Haythamī (n.d.: 31); ‘Nowhere on earth will fail to benefit from his [Mahdi] plentiful justice and probity, and even animals and plants will benefit from this abundance, justice, fairness and goodness’. M. Majlisī (1374 Sh: LII, 52, 327; many hadith in volumes 51 and 52 on the just state of al-Mahdi). See Mullā Ṣadrā’s view on this group of hadiths in his Tafsīr al-Qur’an (I, 437). For a substantial explanation on the two Sadrian concepts of raqīqa and ḥaqīqa, see the glossary in H. Ḥājī Sabzavarī (1360 Sh: 437; 492); M.H. Ṭabāṭabā’ī (2009: xxxii). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 298). Ṣadrā (1411a: V, 76). For more specifications on these four concomitant events in Shi‘ism and Mullā Ṣadrā, see Mullā Ali Nūrī’s annotation on Ṣadrā’s Mafātīḥ alGhayb (1363 Sh). Ṣadrā (1302: 219). Ṣadrā (1984: 487). See other aspects of al-Mahdi’s government in Biḥār al-Anwār (LIII, 4). Mullā Ṣadrā (n.d.a.: 7). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 366). Secularism promotes the idea that all human activities and decisions, especially political ones, should be free from religious influence, and nowadays the majority of political thinkers in the West defend this view. A considerable number of Sunni and Shi‘i scholars support secular politics as well. The general notion of free thought on which it is based has existed throughout the history of Islam. In particular, early secular ideas involving the separation of philosophy and religion can be traced back to Ibn Rushd. Secular rationality maintains that the human intellect is capable of forming vast areas of knowledge independent of revelation. Hence, mankind is capable of constructing natural and human sciences, including politics and the management of society, without the aid of revelation, and religion itself has actually left this area to human reason. See Abdel Wahab El Messeri (2007: episode 21); Anthony Black (2001); Olivier Roy (2007: chapter 2). See further discussion on this issue and the arguments of Sunni and Shi’i scholars in Chapter 7 of the present volume. Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 365). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 364). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 363). Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 364). Like Fārābī, he illustrates the complete society to a healthy body. See Ṣadrā (1976: 490). Asfār (III, 514). Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: IV, 63). Asfār (III, 514). Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: V, 354). Ṣadrā (1303: 5).

7 Political authority

Synopsis This chapter will focus on what constitutes the legitimacy of political ­authority and Mullā Ṣadrā’s discourse on this theme. I will first briefly look into the formation and development of this discourse in Fārābī (d. 338/951), Suhrawardī (d. 587/1191) and Ibn al-‘Arabī (d. 638/1240), and then compare their views with an examination of Ṣadrā’s views on the issue. Such a comparison will contribute to a more nuanced understanding of his own special perspective on this important topic. He extends the position of the impeccable Imam in guiding the community to the individuals who can represent his role. In different contexts, he refers to these representatives (nā’ib) as saint (walī), comprehensive being (al-wujūd al-jāmi‘), perfect man (al-insān al-kāmil), king (sulṭān) or jurist (faqīh), raising the question of which of these he considers eligible to function as the political leader during the Imam’s absence. These various referents mark confusion for some readers of Ṣadrā, who suspect that he takes the position that the authority and epistemology of the jurist is a viable option in lieu of the impeccable Imam. I initiated my study in this chapter in order to make explicit that this confusion arises from misunderstandings of his language and the contexts in which he speaks of the jurist and his epistemic authority. On a similar basis, I will argue that although Mullā Ṣadrā’s discourse on the authority of the first leader mostly derives from the work of three particular thinkers, it goes much further. In my presentation of Ṣadrā’s discourse on political authority and the characteristics of the first leader and in the search for an accurate answer to the question of the true referent of these ideas, we understand why he did not accept the political authority of Fārābī’s lawful king (malik al-sunna) or Persian kings like Afrīdun or Kay-Khusraw, who purified themselves and received Divine Wisdom and Glory, as Suhrawardī said, or like the Sunni saint or perfect man of Ibn al-‘Arabī. The chapter closes with a brief analysis of this focal point of Ṣadrā’s discourse on political authority and how his political philosophy can contribute to the formation and development of modern political concepts of pluralism, egalitarianism and tolerance.

174  Political authority

Jurists and the question of political authority According to Mullā Ṣadrā, the jurist (faqīh), as the term is understood today, has no political authority. In the following discussion, we explain how Ṣadrā distances himself from the idea of the political authority or leadership of the faqīh (wilāya or riyāsa al-faqīh) as it is presented today by some Twelver Shi‘i jurists.1 There is no doubt that the term ‘faqīh’ in Ṣadrā’s terminology is different from the contemporary use of the word. Ṣadrā was of the view that jurisprudence had undergone a general change. He complained that the word ‘ālim had come to refer to a person who was only an expert in secondary issues regarding Islamic jurisprudence, such as divorce, manumission, imprecation, commerce and inheritance, because jurisprudence had come to concentrate on exterior knowledge alone. Whoever had extensively studied such topics was mistakenly considered the most knowledgeable expert (‘ālīm) of the religion (dīn), even though they may have no true understanding of the inner aspects of sacred knowledge: The meaning of the knowledge of religion (al-tafaqhgh fi al-dīn) is not understood by our contemporary ‘ulamā, because it [the real meaning of fiqh] is an understanding of the essential sacred knowledge, inner aspects of the religion such as eschatology, purification and piety.2 Elsewhere he says: In earlier days, at the time of the Prophet and the purified Imams, peace be upon all of them, jurisprudence (al-fiqh) was completely focussed on knowledge of the Real, of the path of the Hereafter, the blights of the soul and states of the heart, and was a way of refining the temper and changing evil deeds into good ones. It was not the knowledge of contracts for delivery with prepayment, mortgages, financial interest, divorce, marriage rights, the division of inheritance, technical loopholes, ways of escaping of legal responsibilities or validating illicit matters.3 He believes that some ‘ulamā of his time made use of this title in order to get close to the Safavid court. By issuing false fatwas, they assisted the court to dominate the poor people and plunder their wealth. In so doing, they destroy the religion and promote tyranny and cruel, unjust kings.4 For him, the true ‘ālim is one who has insight to religious knowledge, fears God above all and surrenders to Him in his heart. Knowledge of only the exterior aspects of religious science (i.e., jurisprudence as usually understood by the legalistic ‘ulamā) can lead to vanity: From this, it is understood that what is meant by ‘fiqh’ in the convention of the Imams, peace be upon them, is not the art of knowing the minute details, differences or ramifications of [matters such as] divorce, mortgage or similar issues related to the trades, but the knowledge that leads to probing into the issues of the Hereafter, the states of the soul and the total renunciation of this world.5

Political authority  175 Ṣadrā states that this is confirmed by the tradition related by Shaykh al-Kulaynī that is traced back to the first Imam of the Shi‘a, where al-Kulaynī narrates that Imam ‘Ali said: Do you want me to tell you of the true faqīh? He is the one who does not make people despair of the mercy of God, nor does he make them feel immune from His chastisement, nor does he give them permission for disobeying Him, nor does he leave aside the Qur’an for something else. Know that there is no good in any knowledge in which there is no understanding; there is no good in a recitation [of the Qur’an] in which there is no contemplation; there is no good in worship in which there is no thought.6 For Ṣadrā, whoever calls himself a faqīh whilst having no knowledge of the inner meanings of the sacred text and the hadith is in fact unaware, and he misunderstands the concept of Islam and misleads his followers. Such people are unfamiliar with the essence of religion and are unsuccessful in the purification of their souls. Some of them are corrupt (fāsid), and their limited knowledge of the Shari‘a makes them ignorant (ghāfil). They issue tyrannical judgements and give support to despotic rulers and satanic authorities (ru’asā’ al-shayātīn). Their support invests such rulers with the audacity to rule aggressively over the people, seize their property and shed their blood.7 The root of the problem, according to Ṣadrā, lies in the fact that many jurists and experts in theology (the exoteric ‘ulamā) do not enter the gate of religious knowledge from the right direction because the way to certainty regarding religious truths and prophetic secrets is not that of theological discussion or jurisprudential debate but by acquiring revealed esoteric knowledge, abandoning those things to which one is simply accustomed by temperament, the rejection of a preference for only the agreeable things of world, refraining from arousing people’s curiosity and admiration and the attention of kings (salāṭīn) and, in short, true abstinence from wealth, pride and power:8 Ambition for worldly rank, however, is a greater temptation than wealth. And the ambition for finding an elevated place in the hearts because of one’s knowledge and righteousness causes greater corruption than the ambition for having power over the bodies because of one’s might and zeal. For it is the source of most debate and theological discussion, jurisprudential rankling and dispute, and originates with the desire for fame and a wide audience throughout the land, the yearning for leadership and domination over the servants of God.9 Based on the aforementioned supposition about the science of fiqh, he says that the people mistakenly think that whoever has knowledge of the Shari‘a is the most knowledgeable scholar, even if they have no mastery or understanding of the real, inner meanings of the Qur’an (ta’wīl al-Qur’an), rational science (‘ulūm al-‘aqlī) or ethics. According to the verse, ‘Only those fear God, from among His

176  Political authority servants, who have knowledge’ (35:28), the faqīh is expected to fear God more than any other person, whilst it appears that many of them have less fear than ordinary people. They have only a shallow knowledge of Islam, whereas they suppose otherwise, and this is why their hearts have hardened and they are quick to anathematise their opponents.10 Ṣadrā basically thought that the nature of jurisprudence with no essential knowledge of Islam can even distance one from spirituality: Overlooking the inner message of religion, and concentrating only on this one part, results in its opposite, that is, lack of the fear of God and deviation from the path of virtue, because [without understanding the inner meaning] many aspects of Shari‘a science can bring about a certain roughness and the delusion of being immune to God’s punishment  – an attitude that can be clearly witnessed among jurists in the [Safavid] court.11 It should be noted here that using a similar argument, Ṣadrā condemns those Sufis who believe they are friends of God and understand the inner meaning of the religion but do not submit to the Shari‘a, for they try to deceive the people by their false asceticism, and so their mischief outweighs what they repair. He says: Al-Kulaynī has narrated in his book al-Kāfī from Abu Abdullah, peace be upon him, that the Messenger of God, peace be upon him and his household, has said: ‘Whoever acts without knowledge, his mischief will be more than what he puts right.’12 There are many traditions in this regard. It has been narrated from the Messenger of God that ‘God does not take an ignorant person as a friend.’13 Furthermore, he has said that ‘Two people have broken my back: the dissolute scholar, and even more so, the ignorant ascetic.’14 It has also been said in verse: ‘A great corruption is caused by a dissolute scholar and, more than that, an ignorant ascetic. They are a great trial for the people and for those who in matters of religion depend on them.’15 According to Ṣadrā, one needs to be cautious in order not to be deceived by others who conceal the Truth. The harm done by ignorant scholars (jāhilīn), whether jurists or mystics, is greater than that of devils because they remove religion from people’s hearts due to their poor insight into the religion and give a bad impression of Islam to non-Muslims.16 It is worthy of note that he praised those pious jurisprudents who throughout history have attempted to develop the Shari‘a. They have understood the limits of their knowledge, have never laid claim to an undeserved rank, and have in their humility not sought to be leaders amongst the Muslim community: There are scholars of both the inner and outer aspects of the religion.  .  .  . Whoever seeks only exterior knowledge of the religion [the Islamic law] should refer to the jurist, but the jurist should also know that this is only an outer aspect of religious knowledge, and nothing more.17

Political authority  177 It seems that the foregoing statements from Ṣadrā provide confirmatory evidence that he essentially refuted the political authority of the jurists. Ṣadrā himself had mastery over jurisprudence. His knowledge of transmitted sciences like hadith, tafsīr al-Qur’an and fiqh was as good as his knowledge of the rational sciences, and so he was a scholar who could understand both the inner and outer aspects of the Qur’an and the Islamic traditions, but he neither claimed to be a political leader nor even participated in political affairs. Nevertheless, there are considerable analyses of his works concerning two crucial matters in politics: that of what makes the ideal political leader and what kind of political state can bring about happiness, justice and prosperity for mankind during the absence of the Imam.

Political leadership The perfect example of the first leader (ra’īs al-awwal) in Islamic political thought is the Prophet. In the works of Muslim thinkers, certain sections are devoted to the political leadership of the Prophet and his political attitudes with the aim of demonstrating the perfect model of leadership.18 As discussed in Chapter 6, after the Prophet, a perfect representative example of leadership did not obviously or easily come to fruition, so in his absence an alternative model became a focus of discussion in Islamic political writings. In this section, I  will analyse Mullā Ṣadrā’s discourse on different aspects of the first leader following the Prophet and the Imams, and before the reappearance of the Mahdi, during times when there is no manifest, impeccable leader. Regarding this matter he gives special attention to Fārābī’s thought but is also greatly inspired by Suhrawardī, particularly by Ibn al-‘Arabī, and my study presents a comparison between Ṣadrā and these three Muslim thinkers. Fārābī’s idea has often been seen as a political programme analogous to Plato’s Republic; it cannot be denied that his ‘true king’ is in fact a teacher and spiritual guide, encouraging those who are able to strive towards the fulfilment of the potential latent in their natural dispositions and to engage in an intellectual development that is as spiritual as it is cognitive. For Fārābī, political authority is meaningful if it embodies the divine dimension. Legitimate rule relates to the unseen realm (‘ālam al-ghayb) and should help people transcend the vicissitudes of the corporeal. The rulers, whether kings, sages or philosophers, should possess and somehow show a ‘sign’ of their divine inspiration, a sign that indicates a real relationship with the unseen source of authority.19 According to Fārābī’s philosophical principles, mainly inherited from Neoplatonism but nevertheless remaining close to his Peripatetic roots,20 the First Cause is the pure Intellect’s awareness of itself, thus pure Essence in love with itself.21 From this first Necessary Being emanates another intellect, the First Intellect, whose intellection of its own essence and of the First Cause produces a second intellect and the first heavenly sphere, and so on through a succession of ten intellects and nine heavenly spheres, until finally the sublunary sphere in which we live is reached. Human beings are born with potential intellect. Once a person has acquired actual intellect, he may come into contact with the Active Intellect – the

178  Political authority tenth intelligence in the series of emanations – and experience happiness.22 The function of the Active Intellect is to care for the rational animal, so that he might reach the most perfect rank attainable, that of perfect happiness. Although mankind is unable to grasp the intelligible without the intervention of the Active Intellect, the inclination for intellectual activity differs from one person to another and is subject to the human will and intellectual effort.23 For the state of being that is in contact with the Active Intellect, that of one who attains the highest intellectual level, Fārābī has used the terms ḥulūl (infusion in God) or ḥalla fī al-‘aql al-fa‘‘āl (infusion in the Active Intellect), descriptions that Ṣadrā usually avoids. Fārābī says that the Prophet, due to his perfect soul, was able to gain proximity with the Active Intellect and thence receive the revelation for conveying God’s Message to the people in the sensual and imaginal realms. He also calls the Active Intellect Rūḥ al-Amīn when he speaks of it in his chapter on prophecy.24 The ‘imaginal faculty’ (quwwat al-khayāl) is central to Fārābī’s political thought and a key concept in his understanding of prophecy. He believes that in the waking state the imaginal faculty is permanently engaged with the rational, appetitive and sensible faculties. In such a state, the sensible faculty is actively working in interaction with sensibles and sense feelings. The imaginal faculty also provides both the rational and appetitive faculties with these sense feelings. Therefore, the imaginal faculty has the power to preserve and employ sensible faculties by composition or division. When an individual has a very powerful imaginal faculty to such a degree that it is no longer restricted to the supply of images to the other faculties, it is thus free to experience sensibles of extreme beauty and perfection by means of imitation. The highest rank of perfection that the imaginal faculty can achieve is precisely when an individual attains the capacity to see glorious or divine beings whilst still residing in the material and sensible realm. This is the status of prophecy that can be achieved at the ‘border’ between the rational and the imaginal realms, by which the Prophet receives the message through the Active Intellect to convey to the people.25 As we will elaborate in the coming discussion, in Ṣadrā’s discourse also, the state between the rational and sensible realms is a noble and lofty rank that the prophets and sages experience, but Mullā Ṣadrā exposes his own philosophical explanation where he explains his ontological principle of ‘unity in multiplicity and multiplicity in unity’. As we will show, this ontological principle forms the foundation of his political philosophy. Fārābī also expounds a series of lesser ranks below this most perfect attainment of vision, each progressively more imperfect than the preceding one in terms of whether the vision takes place during the waking or sleeping states and whether the individual has access to particulars or intelligibles. According to Fārābī, the most common kind of vision is that of individuals who receive particulars (juz’īyāt) whilst in the sleeping state. However, he believes that any individual who attains this rank during the waking state has reached the highest level of perfection. It is a recurring notion in Fārābī’s writings that a true understanding of something imperfect is only possible in the light of the perfect thing after which it is modelled. For example, he gives an account of how the virtuous city precedes

Political authority  179 the ignorant cities and suggests the ‘lawful king’ (malik al-sunna) as a version of the supreme ruler or first leader (ra’īs al-awwal) for the times following after the Prophet. This malik al-sunna is required to combine in himself six conditions: wisdom, perfect practical wisdom, excellence in persuasion, excellence in producing an imaginal impression, the power to personally fight the holy war and having nothing in his body to prevent his attending to matters pertaining to the holy war.26 When these conditions were not found in one man but could be found in a group taking the place of the king, one of them had to possess such power. However, if such man were not available, the following would be required of the ra’īs (ruler) of the Good City: (1) he should possess knowledge of the ancient laws and traditions that the first generations of Imams acknowledged and by which they ruled; (2) he should have excellent discrimination concerning the places and conditions in which those traditions are to be employed; (3) he should have the power to discern what is not found explicit in the old tradition; (4) he should have excellent perception and practical wisdom regarding events; and (5) he should be able to partake in the holy war. Such a one is called the king according to the law (malik al-sunna).27 He states that ‘this man is the “true king” (almalik fi al-ḥaqīqa) according to the Ancients, and the true king is the one who is said to receive revelation. This happens when there is no intermediary between the Active Intellect and himself.’28 Following on from Fārābī’s notion of the ‘true king’ and ‘philosopher king’, some philosophers, such as Shihāb al-Dīn Yaḥya Suhrawardī (d. 587/1191), attempt to rank kings in a divinely ordained hierarchy and establish a likeness between them and the prophets as divine rulers.29 Although they are careful not to put the true kings on the same level, several prominent scholars maintained that both prophet-hood and kingship belonged to the same broad category of government, which was the highest of all occupations, arguing that prophethood took effect both internally and externally, while kingship only took effect externally. For example, Sirāj al-Din Urmawī (d. 682/1294) in his Laṭā’if, notes that just as prophets are the representatives and deputies of God, kings are the representatives and deputies of God and the prophets and that they therefore constitute a third category of existence and power. Based on the Qur’anic verse ‘obey God and obey the messenger and those in authority among you’ (4:59), Urmawī explicitly states that God has made kings the associates (qarīn) of the Prophet, since in this verse, God is separated from the Prophet by the words obey (wa atī‘u), whereas nothing comes between the Prophet and those in authority (ulu al-amr), who are the kings. Therefore, the only difference between them is that one is mentioned first and the other after.30 According to Suhrawardī, rulers should bear some hallmark of divine revelation that seals the relationship existing between them and the invisible source of their authority. In this sense, rulers represent the connection between the world of sense perception and that of the pure enlightening essence from which everything originates, including political authority. This level of perfection is possible only if one combines discursive knowledge (ḥikmat al-baḥthī) with intuitive knowledge (ḥikmat al-suhūdī) or with knowledge by presence (‘ilm al-ḥuḍūrī).31 The politically significant dimension of Suhrawardī’s thought, like Ṣadrā’s, is his clear

180  Political authority stipulation that revelation is continuous and unending and that that wisdom is not confined to specific groups, Muslim or otherwise, or to a jurist or mystic from a particular Muslim school of thought. Hence, for Suhrawardī, just as the divinely inspired prophets, lawgivers and wise kings of earlier eras ruled the ancient nations – be they Greek, Persian, Egyptian, Brahmin or from the Judaeo-Islamic line of prophets – so too any present ruler may be divinely inspired.32 Hence, the ruler is to be identified as an enlightened philosopher. Given the status of God’s vicegerent on earth, who serves as the link between the corporeal world and the divine realm, the best political system rests on the authority of the wise philosopher-sage who is the support in this world of the Divine Light33 and who has intuitional knowledge (‘ilm al-shuhūdī) or knowledge by presence (‘ilm al-huḍūrī).34 Wisdom in the philosophy of illumination signifies the light that has been passed down through the generations of divine philosophers through which the affairs of man are regulated. Likewise, in the Islamic tradition, we are told that the Prophet Muhammad said: ‘When I remove myself from the shackles of the body and become united with the lofty and noble world, then my food and drink are of real science and the divine lights.’35 There seems to be a compelling reason to argue that the theory of knowledge by presence developed by Suhrawardī became a powerful tool for demonstrating not only the validity of inspiration (ilhām) but also Safavid legitimacy because the Safavids also authenticated their spiritual authority and divine right to rule through the Shi‘i notion of ilhām, or a kind of spiritual connection with the Imam that had already been partially secured by dreams experienced by the Safavid kings. For instance, Sultan Ḥaydar had a dream in which he was chosen by the Unseen to prepare the twelve-cornered Ḥaydarī36 crown as a sign of the royal authority of Safavid rule, while Tahmasp is invested in several dreams37 not only with spiritual authority by Imams and saints but also with royal authority by just Iranian rulers from Kaykhusraw to Ardeshīr Bābakān.38 However, although the Safavids had announced the Shi‘i legalist tradition as the law of the land, they still lacked a Shi‘i-defined spiritual authority. What was needed was a political philosophy that could justify the legitimacy of the divine authority of the kings, and Suhrawardī’s political doctrine might surely philosophically validate an Islamicised version of the Iranian concept of such authority. His theory was construed to mean that the ruler would not need to be related by blood to Muhammad’s Arab clan; his authority would derive instead from knowledge and the ancient Iranian idea of the ‘aura of kingship’ (farr or Farrahi-i īzadī). The monarch in Iranian Shi‘ism henceforth was seen in terms akin to the ancient Persian rulers, who possessed ‘divine glory’ (farrahi-i īzadī) or ‘divine light’.39 At the end of the Epistle on Emanation, Suhrawardī describes the one to whom this light is given: ‘Any king who gains wisdom and persists in his consecration (taqdīs) of the Light of Lights, as we said before, will be given the Great Royal Light and the luminous light (farra). Divine light will bestow upon him the robe of Royal Authority and of majesty. He will become the natural ruler of the world.’40 One should bear in mind that some Sufi orders (Ni‘matallahī, Khāksār) have had a Twelver Shi‘ite orientation, but the majority of Sufi scholars, including

Political authority  181 Suhrawardī, have been affiliated with Sunni legal schools. Certainly there have been Shi‘ite theologians who have rejected the claims of Sunni saints as theorised by Suhrawardī, and the Safavid dynasty suppressed organised Sufism in Iran after seizing power in the early sixteenth century and making Shi‘ism the state religion. Nevertheless, philosophical Sufism (‘irfān), as new form of philosophical thought that Mullā Ṣadrā drew from Suhrawardī and Ibn al-‘Arabi, as well as other Sufi and Shi‘ite themes, has remained an important aspect of the advanced curriculum in Iran.41 The Safavid monarch, based on such concepts, was thus considered a divinely inspired ruler with manifest power to rule. The implications drawn from these reports is the same: whoever experiences the Divine Light will gain wisdom and power and thereby have the ability to perform extraordinary acts and be a true ruler of the best of nations, before which all others bow down. The station reached by the sages is known as the noblest station (al-maqām al-azīz).42 Finally, whoever receives the light, which is the quintessence of wisdom, will gain divine power and be courageous and victorious. The people incline toward such a person, and all nations revere and obey him. It is possible that when the Light of the Heavenly Master increases the luminous quality of the light given to the sage, the sage will become a magnificent king, a sage-king with true knowledge and royal authority. He is to be counted among the sages of all ages and is the one most fit to rule.43 In the forthcoming passages, where I address Ṣadrā’s discourse on kingship, I will argue that – at least in his case – the common practice of referring to true kings as exemplars of wisdom and justice should by no means be taken as a desire to approve the political model of kingship or the monarchy. Ṣadrā usually prefers to use the notion of walī (saint) or quṭb (pole) rather than ‘true king’ or ‘philosopher king’. In this, Ṣadrā is mostly inspired by Ibn al-‘Arabī. Walī is a key concept in Islamic mysticism. Elaborated in the Sadrian language, the walī is a saint who has completed the ascending arc of the spiritual journey that leads to the ultimate goal of the wayfarer. From the ancient Greek and medieval philosophers until somewhat later than the fourteenth century CE, there has been a philosophical convention that formed a common worldview describing the spiritual descent and ascent of human souls as a rational process, whereby the souls descend from unity to multiplicity and ascend through intellection from multiplicity to ultimate unity.44 In Islamic mysticism, Ibn al-‘Arabī was the first to attempt to explain this spiritual journey of the human soul within Islamic philosophy and construct a systematic theoretical mysticism (‘irfān al-nazarī). According to his theoretical principles of mysticism, the possibility of intellectual unity involves the annihilation of the personal self in the unity of the divine One. The practical side of mysticism (‘irfān al-‘amalī) goes hand in hand with the theory and includes a spiritual wayfaring that traverses the various existential states in order to attain nearness to God. This is a process whereby the walī’s actions, attributes and essence first become annihilated (fanā’) in God before passing to the ultimate state of subsistence (baqā’) in God. In Ṣadrā’s mystical terminology, such a person is known as a ‘comprehensive man’ (al-insān al-jāmi‘), a

182  Political authority concept borrowed from Ibn al-‘Arabī that links Ṣadrā’s mysticism and metaphysics to politics.45 In chapter 366 of the Futuḥāt, volume III, we find a distinctive set of spiritual qualities and capacities that mark this particular spiritual stage (manzil), characteristics that Ibn al-‘Arabī finds symbolised in the various hadiths concerning the eschatological role of the Mahdi and his Helpers (vazīr) and that are already realised by those saints (awlīyā’) who have attained the same degree of spiritual perfection. In a broader metaphysical perspective, all these characteristics are in fact essential aspects of the ongoing divine governance of this world in its microcosmic, individual human dimensions, especially regarding the spiritual judgement or authority (wilāya) of the saints, since it is inwardly realised in the functions of religious understanding. The saint is the perfect human being (al-insān al-jāmi‘) who has developed his self-consciousness and self-realisation, which prompts divine self-manifestation. This causes the saint to be of both divine and earthly origin, and Ibn al-Arabī names this complete being the barzakh (isthmus). Being the isthmus between heaven and earth, the perfect man fulfils God’s will to be known, and God’s presence can be realised through him by others. The perfect example of the ‘comprehensive man’ (al-insān al-jāmi‘) among Sufis is the Prophet Muhammad. According to Ibn al-‘Arabī, all of the prophets are earthly exemplifications of the eternal Muhammadan Reality (ḥaqīqat ­al-Muhamadiyya), the first thing that God created from a handful of His own Light, and from this Muhammadan Light were created all other things in the ­heavens and the earth. Both Shi‘i and Sunni46 Sufism developed the idea that this primordial and eternal Muhammadan Light was inherited in part by his ­descendants, or passed on from one Imam to another, or from one saint or ‘pole’ (quṭb) to another upon the death of the previous one.47 The quṭb or supreme sainthood is not just an office held by the most perfect one of each generation, but a substance that passes from one quṭb, or ‘pole’, to the next. Ibn al-‘Arabī speaks of the sirr, or the inner essence of the prophets, which is carried by the quṭb and transferred to the imam on his left when he dies, whereupon this imam becomes the next quṭb. The quṭb experiences unification (ittiḥād) with the Muhammadan Reality.48 In other places Ibn al-‘Arabī says that human beings were created in the form of the divine Name, the ‘comprehensive name’ (al-ism al-jāmi‘) that contains the realities of all the other divine names. Yet only the perfect man actualises all of God’s names in their fullness, thus becoming a ‘comprehensive being’ (kawn al-jāmi‘), a concept that Ṣadrā uses when he speaks of the political authority of the perfect man.49 The Prophet said that ‘each one of you is a shepherd (rā‘ī) and is responsible for his flock.’50 Ibn al-‘Arabī explains this responsibility as the imamat al-ṣughrā (lesser imamate) or khilāfat al-ṣughrā (lesser Khilāfat). As any individual is a referent of God’s names, the (responsibility of ) the imamate thus extends to all people, and applies to every single person insofar as they are imam (leader). The highest of shepherds is the ‘great imamate’, and the lowest of them is the imamate of each human being over his own actions, and what is between the two includes those who have the imamate over their family, children, students and possessions.51

Political authority  183 Concerning the political authority (wilāya) of the perfect man, Ibn al-‘Arabī again says: You should uphold God’s limits with regard to yourself and whatever you possess, for you are responsible to God for that. So if you are a ruler (ḥākim), you have been designated for upholding God’s limits regarding all He has entrusted to you. For (in the words of the famous hadith) ‘each one of you is a shepherd and responsible for his flock,’ and [that responsibility] is nothing other than upholding God’s limits regarding them.’52 Therefore, the lowest form of right guardianship is your governance of your soul and your actions. So uphold God’s limits, respecting them until (you reach) the greater vice regency (khilāfa), for you are God’s representative (nā‘ib) in every situation regarding your own soul and what is above it [i.e., the Spirit].53 And in chapter 14 of the Fuṣūṣ, Ibn al-‘Arabī writes: Know that wilāya is the sphere which encompasses all the other spheres, and for this reason, it has no end in time. . . . On the other hand, legislative prophethood (nubuwwa) and the mission (risāla) of the Messenger (rasūl) do have an end, which they have reached in the person of Muhammad, since after him there is neither any other prophet, nor any other legislating messenger. . . . since no being can henceforth be prophet (nabī) or messenger (rasūl), the only name which remains is al-walī, which is one of the Names of God.54 Having examined a brief background of the mystical concept of walī, the data appears to suggest that that from the thirteenth century onwards, especially through the efforts of such Shi‘a philosopher-mystics as Ali Ibn Abi Jumhūr al-Aḥsā’ī (d. after 1479), Ḥaydar Āmulī (1320–1385), and, to a greater extent, Mullā Ṣadrā, the mysticism of Ibn al-‘Arabī began to converge with Shi‘a mystical tenets.55 In his interpretation of the foremost Shi‘a hadith collection, Uṣūl al-Kāfī, Ṣadrā mostly discusses the authority of the perfect man or comprehensive man (al-insān al-jāmi‘) with a Shi‘i approach. In the first chapter of this book, the emphasis is on the Shi‘a traditions concerning the Imams as channels of divine guidance and possessors of esoteric truth, and from a mystical approach, Ṣadrā draws a line between knowledge based on an exoteric reading of the sacred text and its esoteric meaning. Hence, there seems to be a dichotomy between the literal interpretation (tafsīr) and Shi‘i hermeneutics (ta’wīl). According to Shi‘ism, it is the Imam who can remove this impasse by revealing the inner meanings of hadiths concerning God, metaphysical realities and the sacred text. Ta’wīl is the key that unlocks the codes immanent in the Qur’anic verses through a hermeneutic of controversial verses and verses that have different levels of esoteric meaning.56 The esoteric standpoint that is central to Ṣadrā’s view on the sovereignty of the Imams and saints is illustrated by his explanation of the word amāna in the following Qur’anic verse: ‘We did offer the trust (amāna) unto the heavens and the earth and the hills, but they shrank from bearing it and were afraid of it. And man

184  Political authority assumed it’ (33:72). According to the major Shi‘a exegetes,57 this ‘trust’ signifies the divine sovereignty (al-wilāyat al-ilāhiyya) that God has given to all creatures, but amongst all creatures, only man has the potential to achieve perfection, since it was he who undertook the trust: God is the bestower of sanctity to the whole of His creation. God is Omniscient, so He knows the goodness of His creation. He is Omnipotent, so He has supreme authority over the people and to give this authority to any person He wishes. . . . In contrast to those who are of the view that the pious man cannot be a walī, we believe that God has indeed given the station of wilāya to the faithful man (mu’min) [who has the knowledge of things].58 In this context, Ṣadrā again speaks of man as the microcosmic form of the macrocosm and the basic order of the universe.59 The perfect human being is an ‘all-comprehensive being’ (kawn al-jāmi‘) who embraces all realities and has the potential to unify in his being all the perfectional dimensions of the universe.60 Man has the capacity to make his spirit a repository for the manifestation of the perfection of God. The wisdom behind the creation of the human person is to achieve perfection and fulfil the role of the vicegerent of God on earth.61 Symbolically speaking, Mullā Ṣadrā uses the Qur’anic term khalīfat Allah (‘vice gerent’) in a very similar way as Ibn al-‘Arabī. The vicegerent is created in the form and image of God: Know that the perfect man is God’s vicegerent (khalīfat Allah), and is created in the form of Him (ṣūratih), so he can be a proof of God to others. His existence is a comprehensive being (nash’atun jāmi‘a), so he can speak with God and hear Him when He effuses His divine knowledge into his soul. The perfect man hears with his inmost ears and he communicates with God as a spontaneous ability.62 In his al-Mazāhir al-Ilāhiyya, Ṣadrā says that the goal of creation is to bring forth the perfection of mankind on earth: The purpose of the creation of the universe is to create the perfect example of an existent, that is, the human being. The creation of other species is for the human being; the purpose of the creation of the plants is the animals, and the purpose of the creation of animals is mankind, and the purpose of the existence of each human being is to be a perfect spirit, and finally a sage.63 Each person has a different share of perfection, so they have different degrees of vice gerency on earth: In the chain of creation, the human being is the most perfect existence, therefore every human being at any rank of perfection has a kind of vice gerency

Political authority  185 (khalīfa), as the Qur’an says: ‘For He it is Who has appointed you vicegerent over the earth and has exalted some of you over others in rank’ (35:39).64 In this chain, the Prophet is the perfect example of a complete sage. Although the era of prophecy ended and was sealed by the Prophet Muhammad, wilāya (sainthood) as the most perfect instance of vicegerent remains on earth. This includes the wilāya of the impeccable Imams and perfect men (awlīyā’). Thus the Imams have the station of walī (sainthood), corresponding with one of God’s Names and from which derives the concept of wilāya,65 which also, according to one meaning that Ṣadrā uses, means ‘Guardian’, ‘Sovereign’ or ‘Ruler’.66 The imamate is the inner aspect of prophecy that lasts until the Day of Resurrection. After the prophets, the people need an imam, or walī, at all times, who is aware of the inner aspects of divine knowledge, has knowledge of God’s scriptures and knows the wisdom of the Shari‘a. He is worthy of leading the people and their affairs in this world and in the Hereafter as would the Prophet, who is God’s messenger in all ways, and even if no one follows his specific religion, as was the case with Nūḥ, the imam remains the imam nonetheless.67 The foregoing mystical approach to political authority suggests that those who take the responsibility of leading society must have inner knowledge of the religion, through which they are fully familiar with the spiritual path (sirāṭ al-ma‘nawī) and virtuous attitudes (a‘māl al-fāḍila), since these features are as important as any material requirement.68 In fact, according to Ṣadrā’s narrative on the relation between knowledge and authority, only such people can lead a just government (ḥukūmat al-‘adl) that is capable of taking into account both the material and the spiritual dimensions of mankind.69 In the following discussion, we will shed more light on Ṣadrā’s arguments to show what is new about his approach and how he explains it within his Shi‘i-Imami paradigm.

Mull Ṣadrā’s view on the first leader Having briefly addressed the writings of Fārābī, Suhrawardī and Ibn al-‘Arabī’s on the concept of the first leader and his political authority, in the following section we intend to introduce Ṣadrā’s thoughts on the matter and how it interplays with these three Muslim thinkers. We explained how after the Prophet, according to Fārābī, the lawful king (malik al-sunna) is the ideal ruler or first leader (ra’īs al-awwal). He is a perfect leader who has attained the station of unity with the Active Intellect (Rūh al-Amīn) and thereby combines in himself qualities such as wisdom, perfect practical wisdom, excellent persuasion, excellence in producing an imaginative impression and the power to fight the holy war in person.70 As previously addressed, Ṣadrā again suggests the same conditions, but nevertheless, after this consistency with Fārābī, Mullā Ṣadrā allies himself with Shi‘a imamological thought. The soul can become like a polished mirror which is prepared to receive the self-manifestation of the form of the truly Real. And this can only be attained

186  Political authority by following the religion and submitting to the Imam who must be obeyed, for this is what is meant by the Imam being the Path in this world.71 Elsewhere he says: In order to attain the station of the Active Intellect, which is none other than al-Ḥaqīqat al-Muhammadiyya, each individual needs to realise his identification with the Imam.72 In his discussion of the first leader, Suhrawardī mentions many important Sunni figures as perfect examples: figures such as Abu Bakr (d. 13/634), the first caliph after the Prophet; ‘Umar Ibn Khaṭṭāb (d. 23/644), the second caliph; ‘Uthmān (d. 35/656), the third, as well as eminent Sunni sages like Hasan Baṣrī (d. 110/728), Ibrāhīm Ibn Adham (d. 161–166/777), Dhu al-Nūn al-Miṣrī (d. 245/859) and Sahl al-Tustarī  (d. 283/896). According to Suhrawardī, such Suuni sages who have manifest qualities and are known for their extraordinary powers may be given true dreams and even a clear revelation (waḥy ṣarīḥ). Suhrawardī says that ‘they can make anything they want, such as food and other things, appear before them at will, and can cure the sick and make wild beasts obey them.’73 In a long passage from his Imadin Tablets, he says that Persian kings such as Afrīdun (1046– 1120) and Kay Khusraw (d. 1211) were endowed with special qualities once they purified themselves and received Divine Wisdom and Glory and that they could thereby rule with justice.74 Ṣadrā obviously could not agree with any of these ideas. The reason is that he believes a perfect man or saint should not consider himself secure from the guile of Satan whilst on the serious and challenging spiritual path (sirāṭ al-ma‘nawī), even if he has reached the highest station, as long as he has not received divine knowledge through the Prophet and ‘the appointed guides’,75 i.e., the impeccable Imams. According to Ṣadrā, falling short of knowing impeccable (ma‘ṣūm) leads to a failure to fully realise the direct spiritual path (ṣirāṭ al-yaqīnī): The cause of disbelief is the inability to realize the truth of things, due to the prevalence of desire and lust, the thickness of the veils, the intensity of darkness, and the lack of purified guides (hudāt ṭāhirīn) [Imams] to remind people of the states of the Origin and End, the absence of the knower of God and the Last Day who can guide people to the path of certainty (ṣirāṭ al-yaqīnī), and who can give them warning of the lowliness of this world and its annihilation and the grandeur of the Hereafter and its permanence.76 Based on this description of the impeccability of the Prophet and twelve Imams, Ṣadrā accepts neither the tradition of the likeness of kings to the prophets, nor the idea of the hierarchy of kings and the ‘ulamā. In Islamic political tradition, the relationship between kings and scholars is treated far more extensively than that between kings and prophets. The ‘ulamā, as heirs to the Prophet’s religious

Political authority  187 authority and custodians of the Shari‘a, were also linked to God and constituted a separate channel for the divine will to take effect on earth. A number of interrelated themes can be detected in the discussion of the relationship between kings and scholars. Among them is the very widespread sentiment that those who pursue knowledge earn themselves a special social status.77 I would like to argue that by Suhrawardī’s time, as shown in our foregoing discussion, it was common practice78 to invoke names from Iranian myth and legend as ‘exemplars of wisdom and justice’, but there seems to be no compelling evidence to consider such references as a desire on Suhrawardī’s part to revive the ancient hereditary monarchy or even consider the monarchy as such as his ideal political system.79 In one passage, Suhrawardī explicitly confirms that any ordinary person from among the people can reach this station: ‘the light which bestows divine confirmation, which strengthens both body and soul, is called kharra in the Persian tongue. The part of this light which pertains to kings specifically is called kiyān kharra.’ He goes on to say that: Among the people who gained this light of divine confirmation was the possessor of occult powers, Afrīdūn [ancient king of Persia], who ruled justly. . . . This he did because he became united with the Holy Spirit, and because his soul was illuminated and became powerful through [receiving] rays of the divine light, he found royal kingship and ruled over his own kind.80 It is in this context that we find reference to the concept of the king in Ṣadrā works, and it seems fair to suggest that his references to the king or even to the notions of the caliphate and the monarchy should be seen from this perspective. For him, the title of ‘king’ in a political context has merely an ontological connotation to the high spiritual position of the perfect man or sage and does not refer to monarchial power or political authority generally speaking. For instance, he says: The perfect man is God’s manifestation of all [perfection] in the macrocosm. . . . He is His vicegerent and the people should follow him, as he holds the position of lesser outward kingship (salṭanat al-ṣughrā al-zāhirī). This is why it is said that the king is God’s shadow on the earth.81 On these same grounds then, the concept of the king in Ṣadrā’s language does not even refer to any ancient worldly Persian monarchy or that of the Safavid shahs. There is overwhelming evidence in his writings that he is constantly critical of the tyranny of the Safavid kings and the jurists and Sufis who associated with the Safavid court for fame and worldly position. For example, in his Kasr Aṣnām al-Jāhiliyya, he says: One is called a jurist nowadays for being closely associated with the rulers and the kings of oppression and their assistants by giving invalid fatwās (legal edicts) and oppressive judgements.82

188  Political authority Signs of man’s love of death and his abandonment of the true means of this world are turning aside from peace among people, losing the aversion to lust, demolishing the foundations of brotherhood with other people, or entering the gates of kings and rulers.83 In Seh Aṣl, Ṣadrā in addressing the scholars allied with the government, says: See how you [ignorant ‘ālim] waste your life in serving people of wealth and waste your time in obedience (ubūdīya) to rulers (ḥukkām) and kings (salāṭīn).84 For Ṣadrā, the concept of kingdom (salṭana) usually signifies the ‘existential superiority’ of God over His creature.85 He uses terms like ‘the great kingship’ (salṭanat al-‘uzmā) for divine superiority as opposed to ‘the lesser kingship’ (salṭanat al-ṣughrā), or ‘the owner of command’ (aṣḥāb al-rīyāsa), for earthly authority over the people, although the latter is in his view only legitimately applicable to perfect souls: Those with sacred wisdom are masters of the world, and through the perfection of their souls receive the Light of the Almighty. They are benefited from God’s Mercy and providence (‘ināya), and they are deserving of authority (rīyāsa) on His behalf over others.86 Ṣadrā’s foregoing narrative provides ample support for the assertion that he believed the monarchy and caliphate of his time had appropriated their roles without having perfected their souls. The kings were ignorant of the ways of knowledge and guidance that lead to steadfast righteousness and perfection of the soul and so have no right to political authority: Most, even all, of those who have appointed themselves to the station of guidance and the caliphate (manṣab al-hidāya wa al-khilāfa) in this age are foolish and ignorant of the ways of knowledge and guidance, and the perfection of the soul and steadfastness in righteousness.87 In Chapter 2, where we explained the confluence of knowledge and power, we showed that for Ṣadrā, knowledge, both theoretical and practical (‘ilm and adab) but not ‘heredity’, was the basis for a hierarchy and a superior criterion for estimating man’s true value. During the time of the Occultation of al-Mahdi (the last impeccable Imam), someone who submits to arduous intellectual ordeals and spiritual practices and qualifies as the perfect man may be given political authority, although his authority would not be at the level of the Prophet and the Imams. He emphasises that there is no rank higher than that of the prophets and the Imams. True mystics and righteous scholars must first gain inner knowledge and then follow their path. No doubt, without this acknowledgement, religious knowledge and even the spiritual path would lead to nothing but error.88

Political authority  189 Ṣadrā concurs with Ibn al-‘Arabī that it is important that man has self-­knowledge and understands his position in the world: that he is the manifestation of all the Divine Names and Attributes and is therefore privy to a particular knowledge that even the angels do not possess: The scholars wonder over man’s having so high a rank on the earth and the reason for it. Some of them believe the reason is that man obeys God in spite of all his bodily and animal desires, and some believe that it is because of man’s comprehension of both human and angelic existence, but in our belief the main reason for this status is that man is the manifestation of all the Names and Attributes of God.89 Again with a Shi‘i approach, he adds those who have not received the teachings of the prophets and do not follow God’s perfect representatives, His true vicegerents, cannot manifest all the Divine Names and Attributes. Such people fall under a satanic illusion (uahām al-shayṭānī) and suppose their perfection might lie in the acquisition of wealth, power and sensual pleasure, whereas the ultimate perfection that man seeks is spiritual perfection, which is truly attainable only through the Divine. The perfect man, who successfully travels through the spiritual states without succumbing to satanic deception and remaining in the lower material realm, becomes a manifestation of the Divine Names and Attributes and arrives at the Kingdom of God.90 The angels who were unaware of the divine wisdom behind the creation of mankind and remonstrated with God, asking, as the verse says: ‘Will You set in it [the earth] someone who will cause corruption therein?’ (2:30), were referring to those who would seize the satanic power to dominate the world and pursue sensual enjoyment and material gain. According to Ṣadrā, only those who have knowledge and complete submission to the Will of God may have power and authority. This potential within man is the birthright of all people, and it remains for the prophets and Imams to show them the spiritual path and bring this potential into actuality.91 Ṣadrā goes beyond Ibn al-‘Arabī when he describes the ‘comprehensive being’ (kawn al-jāmi‘), all of which has political implications. He says that man as a comprehensive being has a dual worldly and celestial nature that distinguishes him from the angels. This twofold nature of man is based upon the twofold nature of the soul, which has two doors: one open to the world of divinity and the other to the cognitive and motivational faculties. Insofar as it is open to divinity, the soul is oriented towards the intellect, and insofar as it is open to the lower faculties, it is oriented towards bodily passions and material needs.92 It is through the latter that man has an interest in worldly activity, within both society and politics in order to manage things better in a worldly life. This is in fact an ontological explanation for Fārābī’s narrative of prophecy, where he said that the status of prophecy is situated at the border between the rational and imaginal realms (‘ālam al-mithāl). As previously explained, the lower faculties are permanently engaged with the

190  Political authority rational and sensible and, through a higher rank of perfection, have the ability to see immaterial and divine beings whilst still living in the material realm.93 In Sadrian language, this is the status of unity in multiplicity that the prophets should attain in order to receive the message from the realm of divine unity to this worldly multiplicity, or, as Fārābī said, from Active Intellect to the people.94 The state of being in both unity and multiplicity means that the soul’s real perfection does not lie only on intellectual perfection; rather it lies in the perfection of the all levels of existence, from bodily (this-worldly) to imaginal and from imaginal to intellectual. The prophets and perfect souls are connected to the unity of Active Intellect and divine realm while they are perfectly experiencing the multiplicity of the bodily world without interrupting one another.95 The human being is thus a unique creature in which both the intellect and the passions hold sway, whilst for the angels there is only intellect, and for the animals there is only passion. This is why man is the one for whom there is a divine law, which orders the passions in accord with the intellect. And this is the reason why man has a higher rank than other creatures, even that of the angels.96 This comprehensive being is a perfect sign (āya) of God on the earth, who, like God, comprises both unicity (jam’) and multiplicity or differentiation (farq), the synthesis of which is attained after the completion of four spiritual journeys. The concept of comprehensive being, which is associated with Ibn al-‘Arabī but within the framework of Twelver Shi‘ism principles – leads Mullā Ṣadrā to the idea of the political authority of his own version of walī. In so doing, he draws conclusions to the effect that the rank of sainthood is attainable by certain ‘urafā and is not exclusive to the Prophet and the Imams. It is upon reaching such a station that an ‘ārif who knows both the exoteric and the esoteric aspects of the divine law and other aspects of religious knowledge gains the authority – indeed, the duty – to accept the responsibility of political authority. Mullā Ṣadrā also speaks of ‘the great kingship’ (salṭanat al-‘uzmā) belonging to God and lesser superiority (salṭanat al-ṣughrā) belonging to the prophets and imams, but, unlike Ibn al-‘Arabī, in none of his works does he speak of ‘lesser imamate or khilāfat’ (imamat al-ṣughrā or khilāfat al-ṣughrā) against ‘greater imamate or khilāfat’. The reason for this is that, for him, saint or ‘ārif would never reach the status of the prophets and Imams who are divinely immune from sin, although they could attain a high rank of perfection. As we will explain, this distinguishing view would have a very major effect on Ṣadrā’s idea about the responsibility and scope of political authority of the first leader during the absence of the impeccable leader.97 Keeping in mind the differences mentioned, Ṣadrā believes that the wayfarer who has completed the spiritual journey can see with inner vision that the world and all creation depend upon an Infinite Being with life, power, knowledge and all the perfections to an infinite degree: Through divine guidance, he [the saint] is adorned with moral and spiritual virtues and purity of action which are similar to those of the Imam himself, but without being immune from sin and error.98

Political authority  191 This is the highest degree of ordinary humanity, namely that of the perfect man or sage who has reached this state through his innate nature, his striving and his sacred duty. Such a complete person (min al-kāmilīn), having reached this station by the practice of spiritual methods – and passing through the accompanying states – is a true successor of the Imam.99 When the wayfarer has fulfilled the particular spiritual discipline that completes the final stage, he becomes a ‘divinely-inspired knower’ (‘ārif al-ilāhī) and derives the authority to rule from his epistemic and ontological position. This state is reached when the inspired knower receives illumination from the very essence of the Divine and witnesses things as they really are.100 With steadfast persistence, all his personal attributes are annihilated, and God becomes his hearing, his eyes and his hands.101 The reality of proximity (to God) that comes about through supererogatory acts is this very thing. He is then adorned with the nobility of sainthood (wilāya), and nothing exists other than God, from Whom the reality of all things derives. The wayfarer has then reached a state of perfection and proximity (al-ittiṣāl) to his Lord, exceeding that of even the angels,102 and such a person is entitled to lead (min al-wulāt) the people in the absence of the impeccable Imam: And the ultimate perfection of the person is what he shares with the divine prophets and saints. . . . The one who is able to draw together all the states of perfection has the title of vicegerent of Allah, and is therefore entitled to be a leader (min al-wulāt) of the people.103 The path (ṭarīqa) of the Shari‘a and the spiritual path to truth (ḥaqīqa) both contribute to the formation of the perfect man (al-kamilīn). For Mullā Ṣadrā, the Shari‘a is not only an outer protective shell like that of an almond, which is helpful up to a certain point from whence it becomes redundant, as has been purported by certain jurists (fuqahā). The saint (walī) is a successor of the Prophet and the Imams within the religion, where he has completely realised the outer and inner aspects of the Shari‘a. The cycle of impeccable sainthood came to an end with the passing away of the Prophet and the Imams, but following the Occultation of the Twelfth Imam, the sainthood of the wulāt (pl. walī) continued, and a new cycle began to take shape. Like the prophet and Imams, the saint is a blessing to the whole world, bringing peace, security, justice and equity to mankind. According to Ṣadrā, when a person gains perfection through the path of inner and exterior knowledge (ṭarīqa and ḥaqīqa), this perfection becomes part of his essence. Provided that he has this level of knowledge, he has the qualification for authority: Therefore, if nobody is benefited by him [the saint] while he has reached that position, then the inability of others to benefit from him is not due to a fault in his essence but because of the deficiency of others, and the defectiveness of those who do not listen to him, due to the fact that they do not know his status. . . . [T]he Imamate [divine leadership] of the Imam, the philosophy of the philosopher and the leadership of the leader will not vanish or be spoiled

192  Political authority if they do not find the tools to use in their work, nor the people to employ in reaching their aim.104 However, there is still another central element that completes Ṣadrā’s philosophy of political authority. In describing different groups of people, he says there are individuals whose main desire is to satisfy their material appetites, and they neglect the dimension of spiritual endeavour. Then there are those whose main concern is to overcome their material desires, and they isolate themselves from human society lest their souls are corrupted. There are yet others who remain in a world that inhabits their imagination. None of these three types represents the perfect image of the human being. In order for an ordinary person to move forward towards perfection, the basic task is to reconcile and balance the degrees of aspiration in a state of internal equilibrium and peace:105 The lowest are those who are devoted to the passions and are thus detained in the prison of the world, bound by its chains and manacles . . . to whom the door of the empyrean realm is closed and that of hell-fire is opened. [They are juxtaposed with] those who are immersed in the realm of God and his malakūt, trembling with the invocation of God.  .  .  .  [T]hese are the elect among the friends of God to whom the doors of the empyrean realm are open. [Nevertheless] at the most high level is the Prophet who is sometimes with God through love for Him, and sometimes with mankind through mercy and compassion for them.106 In Kasr Aṣnām, again by dividing the scholars (‘ulamā) into three groups, he describes the status of the saints who achieve the high spiritual station of the prophets: The scholars are of three kinds: he who knows God and his heart is dominated by divine knowledge. . . . He does not spend time learning fiqh (application of the Shari‘a), except that which is most necessary. [Then there is] a scholar who knows the lawful and the unlawful according to the divine law and details of the rulings, but does not know the secrets of God the Glorified. [Then] a scholar who sits on the common border located between the world of the intelligible and the world of the perceptible. He is sometimes with God out of his love for Him, and sometimes he is with the creatures out of mercy and compassion. When he returns from his Lord to the creatures he associates with them and becomes one of them, as if he does not know God. And when he is alone with his Lord, engaged in remembrance of Him and serving Him, it is as if he does not know the creatures. This is the wont of the messengers and the truthful.107 The perfect exemplar of the third group is the Prophet Muhammad, whose heart is open to two realms: the realm of the malakūt (the origin of spiritual and intellectual realities) and the realm of the bodily faculties.108 In fact, the Prophet is a most

Political authority  193 perfectly realised sage (al-‘ārif al-wāṣil) in reconciling the material and spiritual, the presence (shuhūd) of existence and its unseen (ghayb) dimension:109 This person [the Prophet] has perfected his very essence. . . . Through that which God pours upon his heart and his disengaged intellect, he is a friend among the friends of God and a divine sage (al-‘ārif al-ilāhī), and through that which pours from Him upon his faculty of imagination and the making of forms he is a messenger and a warner of what will be, and a reporter of what was and what exists now.110 Without prophecy there would be no intermediary to maintain continuity between the lower realms and the highest principle. There would thus be no creation.111 Despite such a fundamental difference between the prophets and ordinary human beings, all people may still partake of the station of sainthood to some degree, for otherwise they would not be human. As man ascends through the stations, he becomes his true self and partakes of the human reality to a greater degree, and this is achievable by anyone who is purified intellectually and spiritually. The first leader should also be a perfect example of the microcosm (al-‘ālam al-ṣaqīr) that corresponds with the cosmos as macrocosm (al-‘ālam al-kabīr). In the cosmos, unity (waḥda) is the harmony of all creation within a rational orderly system with value and purpose inherent to its very nature. In the perfect soul, unity comes about with the harmonious cooperation of the faculties. This harmony of both the physical and the inner spiritual aspects ‘corresponds’ with the ordering of the cosmos, in which all the diverse levels of the existents and creatures live together and, with a constant substantial evolution, move towards one single objective, the unity of the celestial realm. Based on our narrative of Ṣadrā’s philosophical principles as elaborated in this and earlier chapters, God has bestowed His Grace (Faḍl) and Mercy (Raḥma) in this world upon all individuals, regardless of race, belief or genealogy. He has provided everything for His creatures to grow towards their highest possible level. Therefore, within the life of society, the virtues of tolerance, patience and wisdom reflect God’s Grace, so that the individual may give precedence to the interests of others over his own.112 The individual who achieves this state of perfection is in fact higher than the angels since, despite all his bodily desire, his soul is invested with all the praiseworthy qualities (al-akhlāq al-ḥamīda). This is the rank of proximity to God, known as al-ittiṣāl bi al-ḥaḍrat rubūbī.113 Not only are such individuals fit to assume authority over worldly affairs, but their authority itself induces the perfection of society. The notion is always there that one must undergo an intense programme of spiritual purification to achieve intimacy with God before one is fit to assume social and political responsibilities. The authority given to the walī, thus qualified after his spiritual trials, comes from God. It obviously does not vanish if others fail to recognise the walī’s state and do not follow him. This does not, however, mean that the people have no role

194  Political authority to play, since it also indicates that the receptiveness of the people is that which actualises the precedent of the authority invested in the saint by God.

Modern political concerns Ṣadrā’s narrative of a universal ontology, as presented in this study, seems to suggest that he has an egalitarian approach to politics. According to him, it is possible for anyone to enjoy the status of sainthood, and in this respect all people would be equal, and no one would seek to deprive another of rights and powers. Whoever reaches the final stage of the spiritual journey would have earned the confidence of the people and would be able to carry out the function of the walī on their behalf. However, if he should lose this confidence, he would have to relinquish his power. Ṣadrā even takes a surprising step beyond this and says that everyone, at whatever stage of one’s existence, has a certain level of knowledge of reality, religion and God. Even polytheists and atheists have some understanding of the realities of the universe, so we should realise that they have in fact knowledge of some aspects of God’s manifestation. He says that this is probably why the idolator worships an idol as his god: [A]nd they [the heathen] worship their idol to get close to the Creator, as the Qur’an says: ‘make them to know that they are worshiping except God’ (10:18). ‘That is the correct religion, but most of the people do not know’ (30:30). This response by God evidences that everyone has been originated with faith in God.114 Concerning the plurality of religions, he has something particular to say: All followers of religions worship God. This is true even in the case of heathens, because they worship their idols as mediators to the real God. Therefore the people who usually in some way worship a god are on the path of truth, except they misplace the instance of God. For this reason, I have to say that in respect to worship, they are the same as the Muslim.115 In Chapter 4, we introduced Ṣadrā’s new vision of transcendent politics and narrated, according to him, that without the divine law, it is impossible to have a true love of God, as we would not be secure from the blemish of obeying the self and serving carnal desires and hidden polytheism.116 In a section on universal love (ishq al-‘āmm),117 Ṣadrā speaks of an unspecified and hidden yearning (shawq) that everyone has for beauty and perfection: Every imperfect existent can develop only through yearning for an existent whose existence is more perfect.118 God is the most perfect existent and the source of all that is lovable, i.e., all beauty (jamīl) and goodness (khayr), so everyone feels in his heart a great love for God

Political authority  195 without necessarily being aware of it. Ṣadrā argues that even disbelievers who seek profane ends have a love that is misguided. For example, those who want to possess power lay hold of a mere shadow of ultimate power. They will never be satisfied, even if they achieve the highest worldly status. Even if they could command the whole world, they would still seek something more, for they are unaware that the true instance of their love is God. Hence, everyone is in fact looking for God and His beauty without knowing it.119 The vast majority of people would seem to be satisfied with the level of earthly love because they have no access to a source of knowledge that might reveal a way to find perfect Love, but they nevertheless remain on the path of yearning for existential beauty. Yet it would seem that, despite the fact that everyone is heading towards God in an innate fashion, there are differences among them regarding the way they pursue the return journey of ascent and ultimately reach the final destination. As evidence for this, we should be reminded of Ṣadrā’s point about the Great Mercy (al-raḥmat al-wāsi‘a) of God, which was presented for my argument that, according to him, he who has a love for the various kinds of beauty by different means will ultimately reach the truth and enter the Kingdom of Heaven because he in fact loves God’s manifestations on earth. Having revealed this especial pluralism, we conclude that happiness and salvation cannot exclusively belong to the followers of one particular sect or religion, as God’s Mercy (‘ināya) is bestowed upon all creatures in the entire cosmos according to different levels of understanding, which are, in turn, due to the different ranks of existence in terms of intensity and weakness.120 The different routes taken by people from various religions and beliefs  – in accordance with their innate dispositions – can only make sense once we understand the nature of the path itself. According to Ṣadrā, this path is nothing other than the human soul.121 This idea derives from his unique philosophical discourse on the human soul that we examined in Chapter 2. According to his doctrine of the substantial change of the soul from its corporeal origin (jismāniyyat al-ḥudūth), the very substance or essence of the soul partakes in motion, and so the higher the soul ascends through the levels of being, the more real it becomes. One of the implications of this is that, because all of one’s actions in this world are imprinted upon the soul, the nature of the human soul itself determines the route that one takes on the journey to God.122 Hence, man’s destiny is always inextricably and existentially linked to his place of return. Everyone is created with the disposition of love, with its gradational levels of the love of beauty and goodness, which obviously means that there are differences amongst people with respect to the different grades of proximity and distance from God. This idea leads Ṣadrā to a very open idea about free thought and tolerance where, in an explanation of Ibn al-‘Arabī’s view on the impermanence of the state of punishment in Hell for unbelievers, he says: ‘[I]f they are the people of salvation in the Hereafter, then surely Muslims have no right to kill any non-Muslim for their religion (din).’123 Ṣadrā then refers to the following prophetic tradition: ‘Whoever should kill a peaceable non-Muslim (mu‘āhid), he will not smell the fragrance of Paradise.’124

196  Political authority Concerning relations between the Shi‘a and Sunnis, Ṣadrā presents a very tolerant attitude as well. Despite his very strong emphasis on the Imamat, which we addressed earlier in this chapter, he stresses that understanding the Imams and their status is a very delicate issue, which is conceived only by those who have a strong mind and are devoted to the intellectual sciences such as philosophy and mysticism, so it is obviously not necessary for the common people: The necessity of knowing the A’imma (peace be upon them) [pl. Imam] is obligatory to those have a strong rational faculty, but not to the ordinary people or those who have a weak mind and cannot easily find the straight path. . . . [S]o knowing the Imams and their position is necessary to the people of knowledge (ahl al-ma‘rifa) who have enough incentive to challenge the other schools of thought in Islam and other religions, while we all know that the majority of Muslims have no such motivation.125 From this we realise that for Ṣadrā, knowing the Imams is essential only for the completion of faith and certainty (yaqīn) [but not Islam in general] and is not necessary for the ordinary Muslim. This is substantiated by the fact that for being a Muslim, the Prophet only demanded two declarations (shahādatayn), i.e., to affirm God and worship Him alone and to witness the Prophet Muhammad as the servant and chosen messenger of God.126 Despite the central role of the divine law in Ṣadrā’s thought, as we saw in Chapter 4, he again advises people to be tolerant of those who are seeking the truth but are not practising the Shari‘a: There are people devoted to God and are dominated by sacred attraction (majdhūb). Be aware that such people, instead of practising all parts of the Shari‘a, may yet have a spiritual discipline.127 Along similar lines Ṣadrā argues that, due to the various natures and conditions of different people, even regarding the Shari‘a, for example, a law that is obligatory for one particular group might not be necessary or may even in some circumstances be prohibited for others. This variety of difference is a mercy from God to his creatures, as the Prophet said: ‘The difference among my community (umma) is a mercy (‘ināyat) from God to the people.128

Summary and conclusion In this chapter, we engaged critically with Ṣadrā’s discourse on political authority in a comparison with that of his predecessors. The structure of his thought on this issue derived from his deep knowledge of Fārābī, Ibn al-‘Arabī and Suhrawardī, but I showed that his discourse on authority goes beyond that of his predecessors and their vision of the lawful king (malik al-sunna), such as Afrīdun or KayKhusraw, and of the saint and perfect man as described by these three eminent Muslim thinkers.

Political authority  197 We addressed how the concept of the kingdom (salṭana) in Sadrian language signifies the ‘existential superiority’ of God over His creatures. The great kingship (salṭanat al-‘uzmā) belongs to God in comparison to the lesser superiority (salṭanat al-ṣughrā), or ‘the owner of command’ (aṣḥāb al-rīyāsa) of earthly authority over the people, and how in his view, during the absence of impeccable Imam, the latter legitimately applies only to a perfect soul. I presented a philosophical analysis of his discourse on the political authority of the perfect man or comprehensive being that, I argued, rest upon his psychological, ontological and metaphysical theories discussed in previous chapters. The first leader should be a sage who pursues and attains the station of union in diversity as, prior to Ṣadrā, Ibn al-‘Arabī so often suggests. This qualifies the level of the comprehensive being or comprehensive man that is elevated beyond that of the commonality. The comprehensive man’s quest is for theosis – a term popularised by pseudo-Dionysius in the sixth century CE – in order to emulate God. In the Islamic mystical tradition, this desire is also related to the hadīth al-takhalluq bi akhlāq Allāh (‘adorn yourselves with the qualities of God’), i.e., strive for high moral qualities and implement them in your life through the fourfold spiritual journey in order to comprehend all levels of existence from the lowest to the highest. But Ṣadrā also tells us when defining the Asfār, the perfected sage occupies the intelligible world, in accordance with the old Hermetic idea of the macrocosm.129 As he says in his commentary on al-Uṣūl al-Kāfī: ‘[M]ost remain in the house of their veiling, resting in their primitive state and station.’130 It is the true seeker who, with the light of faith, moves beyond with the intention of journeying towards the Light of lights (nūr al-anwār):131 ‘It is the light of God’s being that illuminates all others . . . from the highest level of being to the lowest, all unified and correlationed with the One.’132 This Sadrian discourse of light follows on from Suhrawardī’s concept of the intensification of light towards the Light of Lights.133 Suhrawardī said that the seeker of truth experiences the Divine Light and will gain wisdom and power and can thereby be the true ruler of the best of nations.134 Mullā Ṣadrā’s first leader, then, owes much to Ibn al-‘Arabī and even more to Suhrawardī, although he disagreed with them on certain points. An understanding of context and his especial Shi‘a mystical paradigm is crucial for reading Ṣadrā’s texts on political authority, which contain a mix of mystical and Imami theological ideas presented within a purely rational context. Ṣadrā spoke of the owner of command (aṣḥāb al-rīyāsa) as a role for the perfect man who has earthly, political superiority over the people. This is an Islamic political legacy based on which the ‘ulamā, as heirs to the Prophet, have authority. This coincides with the idea that those who pursued religious knowledge earned themselves a special social status, but we may distinguish his narratives of knowledge and power from the advocates of political Islam who seek the power to implement the Shari‘a and, in the process, either lean toward autocracy or make compromises under the pretext of accommodating democracy. However, according to a clear statement, at this point our philosopher seems to have an egalitarian approach to politics. Despite a monistic tendency, within the hermeneutics of gradational being he wishes to place God and religion beyond the object of individual

198  Political authority analysis and says that everyone at each stage of existence, even the polytheist and atheist, has a certain level of knowledge of reality, religion and God.135 This is in fact a transmission from metaphysical pluralism to political pluralism, the quest for a form of political tolerance that supports the idea that happiness and salvation cannot belong exclusively to the followers of just one particular religion or sect.136

Notes 1 As discussed in our literature review, scores of articles have been written in the last few decades to evidence that Ayatollah Khomaini was devoted to Ṣadrā’s philosophy and that his doctrine of wilāyat al-faqīh is based on Ṣadrā’s thought. See, for example, Najaf Lakzā’ī (1381 Sh: 138–140); Rezā Rasūlī, M. Jamshīdī Rād and H. Khodravān (1392 Sh: IUI, no. 1, 31–42); Emād Afrūq (1386 Sh: PḤ, no. 217, 4–18); Qudratallah Qurbānī (1384 Sh: Ḥu, no. 54, 59–73); A. Javadī Āmulī (1386: KA, no. 24, 3–24). For a recent report on whether or not Mullā Ṣadrā upheld the idea of wilāya al-faqīh, see Sayeh Meisami (2018). 2 Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: VII, 298). 3 Mullā Ṣadrā (2008: 85). See the statement in Arabic, in Mullā Ṣadrā (1381a Sh: 54–55). 4 Mullā Ṣadrā (2008: 85). 5 Mullā Ṣadrā (2008: 121). Mullā Ṣadrā is indebted in this matter to Ghazzālī. Like Ghazzālī, he was of the view that, at first, fiqh was the science of eschatology and knowledge of the diseases of the soul and that it later changed into straightforward jurisprudence, a science that deals with worldly affairs. For this reason, in his Seh Aṣl, Ṣadrā addresses certain groups of scholars, including those allied with the Safavid state, and exoteric jurists and theologians who disclaim mysticism and p­ hilosophy – exactly the same people Ghazzālī criticises. See Mohamed Ahmed Sherif (1975: 90–95). 6 Mullā Ṣadrā (2004: II, 124). Cited from M.Y. al-Kulaynī (1356 Sh: I, 44, hadith no. 3). See similar assertions in Ṣadrā (1381a Sh: 163) and Ṣadrā (2008: 182). 7 See, for example, Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: 57, 69, 70, 76); Mullā Ṣadrā (2008: 26–27). 8 Ṣadrā (2008: 98). 9 Ṣadrā (2008: 99). 10 Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: 38–39); Mullā Ṣadrā (2008: 36). 11 Mullā Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: 79). 12 M.Y. al-Kulaynī (1988: I, 44). 13 al-‘Ajlūnī (1988: 180). 14 M. Rayshahrī (1995: 2095). 15 Mullā Ṣadrā (2008: 72; 1381a Sh: 38). 16 Mullā Ṣadrā (2008: 109–113). 17 Ṣadrā (1984: 487). 18 Andreas Soler (2015: BEIPh, ed. O. Leaman, 371–373). For the Greek heritage of Muslim philosophers regarding this, see E.I.J. Rosenthal (1962); C. Butterworth, ed. (1992). 19 See Valerie J. Hoffman (1999: IV, 172); Joshua Parens (2006); Charles E. Butterworth (2001). 20 Following an Alexandrian tradition, in his treatise, The Harmonization of the Two Opinions of the Two Sages: Plato the Divine and Aristotle, Fārābī argues that, despite a series of issues on which Aristotle and Plato seem to contradict each other, there is remarkable harmony between these two philosophers, such that they can be ­easily resolved. It should be noted that this text also refers to the so-called Theology of ­Aristotle, which Aristotle never wrote but in fact derives from Plotinus. See Charles E. Butterworth (2001: 115); Marwan Rashed (2009: ASPh, 19, 1, 43–82).

Political authority  199 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29

30

31 32 33

34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41

42 43 44

R. Lerner and M. Mahdi (ed.) (1963: 46). R. Walzer (1985: 243); F. Dieterici (1895). Fārābī (1985: 205). Fārābī (1991: II, 44). Fārābī (1985: 210–227). Fārābī (1961: 50). Fārābī (1961: 37). See also Ann K.S. Lambton (1981: 322–323); Patricia Crone (2003: Ar, vol. 50, no. 3, 306–321). Fārābī (1963: 74–75); J. Parens (2006: chapters  4 and 6); Richard Walzer (1962: 206–219). Rāghib Isfahani (d. 502/1108) lists four degrees of government exercised by prophets, kings, philosophers, and preachers and scholars. Rāghib Isfahani (1980: 271). Ghazzālī lists prophets, kings, the ‘ulamā and preachers as authorised leaders (ulu al-amr). See M. Ghazzālī (1988: I, 14). S. Urmawī (1351 Sh: 266). See the same discourse from Fakhr al-Din al-Rāzī in Jāmi‘ al-‘Ulūm (known as Sitīnī), where he writes that the king, as the shadow of God and deputy of the Prophet, seeks to resemble the prophets to the greatest possible degree. F. Rāzī (1346 Sh: 216). See also al-Aḥkām al-Sulṭāniyya by Mawardi (d. 450/1058) and the book of the same title by Abu Ya‘lā (d. 458/1066). For a comparative study of Suhrawardī and Ṣadrā on the concept of knowledge (‘ilm), see A. Razavi (1997). Quṭb al-Dīn Shirazi (1365 Sh: 50–51); al-Ṭabarīs (1380/1960: 6). See Louise Marlow (1995: SI, no. 81, 101–120); F. Rosenthal (1989: I, 130). The history of this ‘science of lights’ goes back to Hermes, ‘the father of philosophers’, and continues through Empedocles, Pythagoras and others until it reaches Plato. It is said of Plato, for example, that he experienced wisdom as a light in his soul when he was freed from Prime Matter, and this gave him special powers associated with the elevated, exalted world. Similar stories are also told of Hermes and other Greek ­thinkers, including Aristotle. See Suhrawardī, Shihāb al-Dīn (1979: 325); Eric Voegelin (2000: 62–65); Sharon Ryan (2012: ASPh, no. 27, 99–112). Suhrawardī (1970: III, 194). For the relation between knowledge and light, see Faris Hajamaideen (2019: ISRAI, ed. Samer Akkach, 125–138). For more on the political implications of this relationship, see Suhrawardī, Shihāb al-Dīn, (1979: 304–344). This hadith is narrated in M. Majlisī (1374 Sh: VI, 206; XVI, 289). See, for example, Husayn Ibn Murtaḍā Husayni Astarābādī (1364 Sh: 19ff.). Historians relate that such dream experiences commonly lent divine authority to Safavid rule. See Ghayās al-Din al-Husayni, Khānd Amīr (1363 Sh: IV, 413ff.); H. Ziai (1992: 371). Husayni Astarābādī (1364 Sh: 25–27, 39f f ). See also Ibn Bazzāz (1997/1376 Sh). For a study on the rapprochement between the Safavid kings and philosophers and mystics, see H. Dabashi (2011: 91, 132–145); S. Amir-Arjomand (1985: JESHO, vol. 28, no. 2, 169–219); Amir-Arjomand (1988a). Suhrawardī (1970: Opera III, 80–81). For how the importance of divinely sanctioned kingship in both ancient and Islamic Iran brought the Farrah-i Izadī into the service of Islamicate political culture, and linked it to the Shi‘i Imams, see Bertold Spuler (1955: ed. Gustave E. von Grunebaum, UVMC, 175); Mohmoud Ṣadrī (2001: IJPCS 15, no. 2, 257–258); Carl W. Ernst (2004: ed. Richard C. Martin, EIMW, 687–690). Suhrawardī (1952: Opera II, 225). Suhrawardī (1945: Opera I, 505). For more on the political application of Suhrawardī’s idea, see H. Ziai (1992: 320–344). See, for example, Suhrawardī (1945: I, 156); Ibn al-‘Arabī (1997: 425); Asfār, (I, 427– 446); S. Ḥaydar Amulī (1367 Sh: 438); J. Āshtīyānī (1370 Sh: 141).

200  Political authority 45 See J.W. Morris (2002: 65–92, 251–275). Cf. Ibn al-Arabī (n.d.: III, 327). For Ṣadrā’s view on al-insān al-jāmi‘, see Asfār (IX, 339); Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 303, 1379; Sh: 110). 46 See, for example, Davūd Qayṣarī (1381 Sh: I, 21–22), and see Ilāhī Qumshe’ī’s annotation therein on pp. 66–67. 47 For more on the concept of the Muhammadan Light, see Ibn al-‘Arabī (n.d.: II, 26, 49). For more on Ṣadrā’s view on the Muhammadan Light, see Asfār (I, 219; II, 171). 48 Ibn al-‘Arabī (n.d.: I, chapter 1, section 25 and section 38, chapter 4, sections 270 and 281); Ibn al-‘Arabī (1367 Sh); Michel Chodkiewicz (1993: chapter 4). 49 Ibn al-‘Arabī (n.d.: I, chapter 3, section 267, chapter 4). See W. Chittick (1989: 30). 50 See the hadith in Zayn al-Dīn ‘Āmilī, Shahīd Thānī (1409: 381); Muslim Nishaburi (1407: III, 1459); Hassan Ibn Muhammad Daylamī (1371: I, 184). 51 Ibn al-‘Arabī (n.d.: III, 408). 52 Ibn al-‘Arabī (n.d.: IV, 462–463). Cf. J.W. Morris (2001: JMIAS, vol. 1–18, 30). 53 Ibn al-‘Arabī (n.d.: IV, 462–463). See also J.W. Morris (2004: 70–71). 54 Ibn al-‘Arabī (1375 Sh: 832). See also Michel Chodkiewicz (1993: 51). 55 There is a long-held understanding amongst commentators on Shi‘ism that esotericism is closely intertwined with Shi‘a mysticism, which explains the rationale of Shi‘ism as having the guardianship of the secret truth of Islam. According to one of the fundamental principles of Shi‘a metaphysics, the truth of Islam can only be genuinely grasped, like the archetypes of the sensory world, in the mundus imaginalis, and the worldly aspects of Islam represent only part of the truth. The full truth is knowable only to God, the Prophet and his Household. See S.H. Nasr (1970: RS, vol. 6, no. 3, 229–242). See also Henry Corbin (1993: 213–215). 56 For more on ta’wīl in Shi‘ism, see H. Corbin (1993: 8–13); O. Leaman (2008: 94, 624). 57 Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: VI, 35). For other writings by Shi‘a scholars, see M.H. Ṭabātabā’ī (1393: V, 181; XVI, 350); Sayyed Ḥaidar Āmulī (1422: I, 356; II, 304, 392); M. Fayḍ Kāshānī (1979a: IV, 206–208). For discourses on divine sovereignty in Sunni exegeses, see J. al-Ṭabarī (1945–68: III, 222); M. al-Qurtubī (1967: IV, 52, 54); al-Razi (1938: VIII, 4). For this discourse in modern political Islamic thought, see M. Rashīd Riḍā Rashid (1947–1954: III, 270); Qutb, Sayyid (1990: IV, 1989–1990); C. Olivier (2003: 202). 58 Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: IV, 228). 59 See more details on these two concepts in Chapter 5 on justice. 60 Mullā Ṣadrā (1366 Sh: I, 292; II, 504); Asfār (VIII, 134; IX, 373). 61 This is illustrated by the following Qur’anic verse: And when your Lord said to the angels, ‘Indeed, I am about to place a viceroy on the earth,’ they said, ‘Will You place there one who will cause mischief therein and shed blood, whilst we celebrate Thy praise and sanctify Thee?’ He said, ‘Surely, I know that which you know not.’ And He taught Adam all the names, then presented them to the angels, saying, ‘Inform Me of the names of these, if ye are truthful’ (2:30–31). 62 63 64 65

Ṣadrā (1984: 19). Mullā Ṣadrā (1378 Sh: 147). Mullā Ṣadrā (1379 Sh: 10). In the original Islamic manuscripts where scholars have vocalised these two concepts, there is a distinction between wilāya and walāya, although the written form is the same. The word walī (pl. awlīyā), from the root w-l-y, means proximity or contiguity. This in turn gives rise to two further meanings: walāya, meaning ‘to be a friend’, and wilāya, meaning ‘to direct, to govern or to take charge’. From a linguistic point of view, the fi‘āla pattern (wazn) on which the word wilāya is constructed is normally used to express the execution of a function. Thus, khilāfa signifies the function of a caliph, imāma the function of a leader, and similarly wilāya, in political and administrative terminology, signifies the function of a walī – a governor – and, by extension, his realm of competence. See Michel Chodkiewicz (1993: 21–25).

Political authority  201 66 For the lack of a better term and following the Sufi texts, walī is translated here by the word ‘saint’. The term walī in Islamic texts, especially Shi‘i ones, applies to the one who has a complete knowledge of all aspects of Islam, including the law, the inner meaning of sacred texts and the rational Islamic sciences. Such a person might otherwise be referred to as wise or as a sage. See A. Ṣabbāgh (2001); M. Nu‘mānī (Shaykh al-Mufīd) (2006: chapters 32–34); M.H. Ṭabāṭabā’ī (1981). 67 Mullā Ṣadrā (2004: II, 475). 68 Ṣadrā (2004: II, 484). 69 Ṣadrā (2004: II, 392). 70 Fārābī (1961: 50). 71 Mullā Ṣadrā (1982a: 194–195). 72 Mullā Ṣadrā (1982a: 132). See also Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: I, 77); Mullā Ṣadrā (1366: I, 216); M. Alavīfar (1390 Sh). 73 Suhrawardī (1999: Opera II, 230). 74 Suhrawardī (1999: Opera III, 185–187). 75 Ṣadrā (2008: 29). 76 Ṣadrā (2008: 137). 77 For more on the political authority of the ‘ulamā and the socio-political criteria of ‘ilm as they stand in Islam, see Sirāj al-Din Urmavī (1351 Sh); Fakhr al-Din al-Razī (1938: 143–148); L. Marlow (2002); L. Marlow (1987: 130–140). 78 For the centrality of Iranian myths as exemplars of wisdom and justice in Islamic political culture, see Mohamad Tavakoli-Targhi (1996: IrS, 29, no. 1 and 2, 162); Bertold Spuler (1955: ed. Gustave E. von Grunebaum, UVMC, 175–176); J. Kellens (2009: EIO). 79 For more on the political interpretation of this aspect of Suhrawardī’s thought, see H. Ziai (1992: 372). 80 Suhrawardī (1970: III, 186). For more on the Islamic political view of kingship based on holiness and messianism, see A. Afzar Moin (2012: 1–5); A. al-Azmeh (1997: 154–200); Abolala Soudavar (2003: 7). 81 Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: IV, 410). 82 Ṣadrā (2008: 38). See his similar complaint of jurists in Ṣadrā (2008: 116). 83 Ṣadrā (2008: 67). Elsewhere he advises the seekers of truth to refrain from the ­admiration of kings. Ṣadrā (2008: 98) and Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: 18). 84 Ṣadrā (1377 Sh: 64). 85 For instance, in Kasr Aṣnām (2008: 148), he says: ‘It becomes clear that knowledge is delightful, and the most delightful is the knowledge of God, His attributes and deeds, and His administration of His kingdom from the zenith of His Throne to the limits of the earth.’ See similar examples in Ṣadrā (2008: 16, 44, 131, 135, 150); Ṣadrā (1411a: II, 67; IV, 185; VI, 58; VII, 79). 86 Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: VI, 277). 87 Ṣadrā (2008: 28). 88 See Mullā Ṣadrā (1381a Sh: introduction and chapter  1); Mullā Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: ­chapter on the ‘Seal of Prophethood’, 376–379), where Ṣadrā explains the difference between the wilāya of the impeccable ones and that of the ordinary saints, which will be discussed in the present chapter. 89 Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: II, 300). 90 Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: IX, 323); Ibn al-‘Arabī (n.d.: IV, 514); W. Chittick (2005: chapter 4). 91 Asfār (IX, 350–351). 92 Mullā Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 355). 93 Fārābī’s idea on this issue relies on the power of the imaginal faculty, which has a distinct capacity of ‘reproductive imitation’ or mimesis (muhākāt). This capacity refers to the power displayed by the imaginal faculty to imitate a series of elements by means of the sensibles stored in it. Through these sensibles, the imaginal faculty can imitate impressions that pertain to the sensitive faculty, intelligibles that pertain

202  Political authority to the rational faculty, desires that pertain to the appetitive faculty, and also aspects proper to the nutritive faculty and even the temperament of the body. The imitation or mimesis of the multiple sensibles and intelligibles are manifested in the simple, immaterial essence of the human soul. Fārābī (1985: tr. R. Walzer, 210–213). Fārābī’s conception of the imaginal faculty combines elements from the Hellenistic and the Middle Platonist traditions that may have been taken from Porphyry and Proclus. For more details on the roots of Fārābī’s theory, see Walzer (1957: JHS, 77). 94 Fārābī (1985: 210–227). 95 For more on this issue, see our discussion under ‘Unity in Multiplicity: An Ontological Station of the Perfect Human Soul’ in Chapter 4. 96 Ṣadrā (1379 Sh: 116). 97 This is in fact a secondary level of authority which he usually refers to as ‘general sainthood’ (wilāyat al-‘āmma). See Ṣadrā (1411a: VII, 380, 1377 Sh: 112). 98 Mullā Ṣadrā (1366 Sh: I, 504–506). 99 Mullā Ṣadrā (1302: 330–331). 100 See Mullā Ṣadrā (1366 Sh: I, 89, 101,102, 141). 101 Asfār (VI, 10). This is very well-known divine tradition (hadith al-qudsī) amongst mystics in which God says: ‘My servant draws near to Me through nothing I love more than that which I have made obligatory for him. My servant never ceases drawing near to Me through works until I love him. Then, when I love him, I am his hearing through which he hears, his sight through which he sees, his hand through which he grasps and his foot through which he walks.’ See W. Chittick (1989: 325). This hadith is quoted from M. Ismā‘īl Bukhārī, Kitāb al-Riqāq (1414: 38). Cf. W. Graham (1977: 173–174). 102 Mullā Ṣadrā (1984: 673–674). This rank is also introduced by other Muslim philosophers with different arguments; for example, Suhrawardī regards those who have attained a certain degree of non-materiality as having an ‘archetypal substance’ (jawhar al-mithālī), and he calls this the station of the creative imperative ‘Be!’ (kawn). See Suhrawardī (1361 Sh: II, 242). Suhrawardī regards the acquisition of theosophical insight to be impossible before attaining the quality of extracorporeality. See Suhrawardī (1977: part I, 113; part III, 63). Ibn Sīnā regards the possibility of inducing effects in nature to be one of the necessary qualities of the souls of the prophets, in the sense that once the soul reaches a certain level of perfection and non-materiality, it acquires the capacity to exercise power over nature. Once the soul transcends the bounds of the body, it can exert influence on other bodies to the extent of changing their constituent elements and inducing changes within them so that they become effective in the world and society. See Ibn Sīnā (1983b, part 6, segment 4, chapter 4). 103 Mullā Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 340–341). 104 Mullā Ṣadrā (2008: 46). 105 Asfār (VII, 78). 106 Mullā Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 355). For more on asceticism in Islamic mysticism, see Malcolm Clark (2003). 107 Mullā Ṣadrā (2008: 40). 108 Mullā Ṣadrā (1378 Sh: 147). 109 Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: VI, 277–279); Mullā Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 356). 110 Mullā Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 356). 111 Mullā Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 341). 112 See our discussion on this issue in Chapter 5 on justice in the present volume. 113 Ṣadrā (1379 Sh: 160). 114 Asfār (IX, 350–351). 115 Ṣadrā (1360 Sh: 144). 116 Mullā Ṣadrā (1381a Sh: 67–68).

Political authority  203 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136

Asfār (VII, 148). Asfār (VII, 149–150). Asfār (VII, 180). See our discussion in Chapter 5 on God’s Providence (‘ināyat Allah). For the importance of the human soul and self-knowledge in this matter, see Chapter 2 of the present volume. For a comparison between Mullā Ṣadrā and Ibn al-‘Arabī on this subject, see M. Rustom (2012: 101–109). For the mechanism of forming the character of the human soul through its actions, see our discussion in Chapter 3 of the bodily advent of the soul. Muhammad Bāqir Khānsārī (1991: VI, 80–81). Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: I, 365). Mullā Ṣadrā (1366 Sh: I, 570). Mullā Ṣadrā (1366 Sh: I, 572). Mulla Ṣadrā (1984: 476). Mullā Ṣadrā (1984: 486). See also Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: II, 63). For this hadith, see Shaykh Ṣadūq (1372 Sh: I, 157); Shaykh Ṣadūq (1385: I, 85). J. Morris (1981: 22–29). Ṣadrā (1356 Sh: 294). Asfār (VI, 17). Asfār (V, 349). Suhrawardī (1999: 87–89). Suhrawardī (1952: Opera II, 225). Asfār (IX, 350–351). See our discussion in Chapter 5 on God’s Providence (‘ināyat Allah).

Epilogue

In this final section of three parts, I conclude by reconsidering in a concise manner Ṣadrā’s major formative philosophical arguments based on which I have presented his political philosophy. Then I intend to present an analysis of his most important political discourses. In the final section, as concluding remarks, I discuss the dynamic of Ṣadrā’s narrative of political authority in modern times.

The main concepts and arguments in Mullā Ṣadrā’s political discourse In my critical analysis of the doxographical secondary literature, I explained that Ṣadrā does not intrinsically consider politics as an isolated study in itself but draws it both within the broader scope of philosophical paideia and as an aspect of spiritual practice. In forming a picture of his political philosophy, we began with his original theory of the human soul (‘ilm al-nafs), in which he set the foundations of the spiritual journey and the path of the soul’s perfection in personal and social life. In order to fully grasp his unique thought on the human condition, we addressed his definition of the human soul within the wider scheme of metaphysics and underlined the idea that the human soul is a theophany (tajallī) that undertakes a spiritual journey from God and then returns to Him. In my study of his psychology, I showed how he engages his ontological principles and presented an analytical discussion on the concepts of the ‘goodness of unity’ (al-waḥdat khayrun) and ‘unity in multiplicity’ (al-waḥda fī al-kathra) as a state of perfection, as well as the key concept of the correspondence (taṭbīq) of the three realms of the human soul, society and the cosmos. Based on this correspondence, the citizen, the government and other organisations in a society should partake in an order of existence (nizām al-kullī fi al-wujūd) in which all individuals, by natural right, are involved in a constant effort to achieve the highest possible state of existential perfection, which is a journey from the multiplicity of the material realm (including personal and social life) to the Unity of God. This correspondence also requires entities at all levels of creation, in addition to humanity, to act and interact through the universal and consistent principle of causality, and therefore, ‘regardless of which religion one follows’ and based on the order of

Epilogue  205 the principle of causality, good acts naturally result in happiness, prosperity and a successful life in this world, as well as Unity in the next, whereas bad actions lead to wretchedness. The process of the soul’s growth and its existential perfection is explained by the modulation of being and substantial transformation. The human being can essentially develop his soul until he becomes free from bodily desire, as well as the carnal and bestial ego, and can finally rid the soul from the cage of the body. The idea of man’s substantial becoming in earthly life has been explained through Ṣadrā’s original doctrine of the ‘bodily inception of the soul and its spiritual survival’, which I located at the heart of his discourse on political philosophy. This doctrine goes beyond the Neoplatonic idea that the soul requires a physical vehicle to drive it forth, although it is not itself corporeal. According to Ṣadrā’s theory, the soul begins in the material world, and the character of each individual in this and the next world is a ‘product’ of its earthly life, with all its personal and social involvement. Ṣadrā’s narrative of justice played a very special role in his politics. We learned from him that justice involves a necessary distribution of the burden of citizenship within society for the common interest, as well as an equal share in social and political advantage and opportunity, because both individual and social justice should ‘correspond’ with divine justice (as a mercy from God), thus providing opportunities to all existents to perfect themselves through their hidden essential capabilities. Human justice, like divine justice, must be bestowed upon all nations and should be universal, multifaceted and forbearing. This state of justice in personal and social life is an essential step towards distancing ourselves from Satan and sensual proclivity because, according to Ṣadrā, whoever follows Satan becomes narrow-minded towards others. Ignorant individuals emulate Satan and embody hatred and intolerance of others, and, in contrast to God, such individuals abhor the multiplicity of cultures, religion, freedom of thought and other existential factors. Another key concept used in Ṣadrā’s political themes is human knowledge. We explained how he makes an ontological link between knowledge and the human soul, a theory that paved the way to his hypothesis of the knowledge/power dynamic and its part in his political discourse. Ṣadrā’s description of the virtuous city and its application to the Shi‘i notion of the Promised Society (Ummat al-Maw‘ūd) upon the reappearance of Imam Mahdi, was a special characteristic of Ṣadrā’s politics. An interesting aspect of this view is that the virtuous city is explained within the scheme of his theory of the fourfold spiritual journey, starting at the lowest level of the human state of being to the highest station, in that the traveller practises politics when he returns to society, since for Ṣadrā, the virtuous city is not absolutely perfect, as was thought by his predecessors, but merely an intermediate place in which people should instinctively and ceaselessly strive for a better spiritual way of life. Within this paradigm, I then explained how the concepts of justice and of ‘happiness’ in Ṣadrā’s ­discourse closely connect with the Shi‘i concepts of the Minor Arising (al-Qiyāmat al-Ṣughrā) and Resurrection (al-Qiyāmat al-Kubrā).

206  Epilogue We saw an interesting argument about the meaning of law and the role of human reason in the legitimisation of society. The intellectual vision that Ṣadrā offers is not of a society that functions solely in accordance with divine law, since he introduces a revised interpretation of secularism in his political philosophy. This version of secularism regards the presence of religion in the public domain as useful and desirable, but there remains a justification for organising civil matters according to reason, rather than relying exclusively on religious texts, and is a form I call religious secularism.

An analytical review of Ṣadrā’s major political themes One of the most remarkable aspects of Ṣadrā’s politics is his unique approach to mysticism, which supported a teleological form of knowledge, whereby the true mystic is considered someone who cannot remain indifferent to worldly life in society or political issues. We named this mysticism ‘positive mysticism’, as it courageously negates the long ascetic tradition in Islamic mysticism and precludes any conflict between spirituality and worldly engagement. He disapproved of those Sufis who led a reclusive life with no involvement in society. This new view of Ṣadrā’s mysticism is a response to those who consider him an apolitical mystic-philosopher from the school of Isfahan, whose views and arguments were addressed in Chapter 3. This vision of mysticism also appeared to validate the view that Ṣadrā’s politics can convey to the Muslim world the idea that true mysticism (al-‘irfān al-ḥaqīqī) or spirituality is not something confined to the mosque or Sufi convent but is a fundamental element of effective governorship, which makes it vital to have a spiritually inclined political ideology with refined rulers who would be able to safeguard the basic human rights of their subjects in a corrupt world. Looking at this issue from another angle, in our modern times ‘real’ spirituality is too often seen as a personal interior matter. This widespread contemporary view lies in the assumption that spirituality is an inner connection that somehow conflicts with religious dogmatism. This in turn follows from the modern assumption that ‘faith’ contrasts with ‘reason’,1 based on which spirituality and faith should be a private matter as much as possible. The more faith externalises itself in concrete actions and practices, the more we see it as an archaic and dangerous expression of religion, and this quickly leads to the contemporary categorisations of ‘religion’ and ‘spirituality’: religion is seen as a theocentric, legalistic and politicised dogma, while spirituality and mysticism are looked upon as part of a morally legitimate quest for individual self-development. In examining the political dimensions of Ṣadrā’s mystical philosophy, we showed that this self-developmental approach is certainly problematic in the case of Islamic mysticism. Ṣadrā’s transcendent politics might be considered an ­academic attempt to reconcile spirituality and politics, a quest for a ­singular explanation of reality as unity in multiplicity within everyday, phenomenal ­experience. This vision thus contributes to the field of Islamic mysticism by showing that, contrary to what has been commonly understood by both Muslims and

Epilogue  207 non-Muslims, this understanding of mysticism is part of the religious teachings and is a spiritual aspect of Islam that should in fact be integrated with politics and the worldly matters of society. Given this understanding of mysticism, Ṣadrā’s politics offered a vision to politicians that their purpose should not be just to promote good in this world and prohibit evil or to implement and reinforce existing laws, since the purpose of each person – including the politician – is to purify his soul in order to rise to the next level on the scale of existence. Hence, as discussed in Chapter 7, politicians are required to have a refined soul and a certain level of spirituality. In this intellectual-spiritual aspect of politics, wisdom (ḥikma) combines with virtue (faḍīla). Professional politicians or any other individuals involved in politics who have not perfected their soul cannot bring happiness to the people. The root of all arrogance, disorder, war, injustice and conflict in our world is due to the divorce of intellectuality from spirituality and faith from reason. In his discourse on leadership, Ṣadrā has a clear message for those jurists (fuqahā) who think they can lead an Islamic society by mastering only the formalities of religion and the divine law. Ṣadrā’s view was that most jurists in the Islamic tradition have not provided a basis for the construction of a systematic method based upon a comprehensive understanding of Islam, through which religion, philosophy, mysticism, ethics and politics are dealt with equally in order to be in harmony with the ontic realm and divine creation. We saw overwhelming evidence that Ṣadrā advocated a religious state necessarily governed by a Shi‘i saint (walī), a person who, by following the teachings of the infallible Imams, had realised both the outer and inner aspects of the religion. In a number of places, he states that at all times there is at least one person qualified to be the political leader of the ideal state but that this person is usually unknown. Through insisting upon this point, Ṣadrā’s political system, like that of his predecessors such as Fārābī, Ibn Sīnā, Suhrawardī and Ibn Sīnā, seems to face the problem of a hiatus between theory and practice. This gap widens when the people cannot recognise the true saint (‘ārif ), or when, for any reason, the ‘ārif does not actualise his authority and the wisdom invested in him. It could be argued that this faces an accusation of promoting dictatorship because the political authority of the walī, although resulting from his own spiritual effort, is nonetheless ultimately given to him by God, and as Ṣadrā says, it does not vanish if others fail to recognise the walī’s position and do not follow him.

Concluding remarks on Ṣadrā’s discourse on political authority and its implications in contemporary political philosophy To resolve any accusation of autocracy, in one place Ṣadrā does suggest a ­solution. He says that in the event that a true leader is not apparent – which is often likely – there is no other choice but to elect any right person who is capable of managing worldly affairs: ‘During a time when a community has no perfect leader, the ­people can elect an ordinary governor to manage their affairs because it is obvious

208  Epilogue that society cannot be left without leadership and management. But such a leader has no divine authority.’2 Nevertheless, one might still criticise Mullā Ṣadrā on his principles of leadership by saying that the establishment of a state in accordance with his model would in fact be a sectarian theocracy, which, of course, would not be considered a perfect model for modern society. Its advocates may be able to legitimise justice and democracy by suggesting this kind of political leadership in a community (umma) consisting of people who all share the same belief, but this does not define society in the modern sense, which is likely to consist of people from Muslim (both Shi‘a and Sunni), Christian, Jewish or other backgrounds, who might ­follow different versions of divine law or who may not believe in any sacred law or religion at all. This is a vital point that most contemporary Muslim political philosophers have overlooked. The reason for this is that, at the time of the Prophet Muhammad (the seventh century), there was no such thing as a ‘society’ in the modern sense. What existed was the umma as a community of Muslims. In a modern society, the emphasis is on ‘the right of the people’ to elect a leader who has responsibilities towards all citizens of all ethnicities and beliefs, rather than ‘the right of the leader’ as a representative of God with a sacred mission. With this point in mind, as long as we speak of the political authority of the perfect man without election by the people, by modern standards the question of dictatorship might still remain. Nevertheless, on the basis of Ṣadrā’s remarkable analysis, as discussed in this study, it seems fair to suggest that his attitude to the religious state and political leadership is a very refined version of the traditional one. This is probably why he remains faithful to the rational principle of implementing the divine law at a social and political level. Ṣadrā is also consistent with his rational methodology when he supports an egalitarian view on the freedom of belief, justice and the human rights for those of other ethnicities, followers of other religions and even atheists. We also demonstrated how a kind of pluralism and political tolerance can be discerned when he referring to a prophetic hadith says: ‘[S]urely Muslims have no right to kill any non-Muslim for their ­religion (dīn)’ and says: ‘The different beliefs among people in is a mercy from God to the people’.3 These ideas on Ṣadrā’s narrative of political justice and tolerance may seem comparable to modern political concepts in which the focus is on the equality of all people in their humanity and on the foundation of the equal ‘human rights’ that they all share, whether male or female, black or white, rich or poor. Without endorsing these fundamental principles, one cannot provide a robust and cogent argument for political justice. All despotic, dictatorial, totalitarian, authoritarian and non-democratic regimes deny the principle of the equality of people’s basic human rights, and in so doing deprive all those whom they regard as ‘other’ of a necessary basis for material and spiritual development. He also puts forth another tolerant attitude concerning Shi‘a–Sunni relations and declares that knowing the Imams is essential only for the completion of the faith but is not necessary for those who have neither the ability nor the opportunity to know the Imams. As the Prophet said, the differences among the faiths of Muslims and other religions  – like the differences in the ontic realm  – are

Epilogue  209 God’s pattern in creation, and a Mercy from Him both in society and the cosmic realms.4 Consequently, he declares that the people of the ignorant city (al-madīnat al-jāhila) have no knowledge of the wisdom of God’s Grace or the value and purpose entrusted in the very nature of His creation. They encourage each other to do evil instead of serving others and bringing them happiness and goodness. They are usually intolerant and do nothing to help each other. According to Ṣadrā, such people follow their superstitions (awhām) and are enemies of God and His prophets.5 These clear statements provide confirmatory evidence that Ṣadrā’s thought on the ideal state, the first leader and the nature of a Muslim society appears to be far from our contemporary notion of the theocratic Islamic state and its government, which sadly contributes to the slaughter of thousands of innocent people in Muslim regions. The ignorance of leaders and statesmen in both Muslim and Western countries is the greatest cause of the clash between people and nations across the world. They have no true understanding of God’s wisdom, the truth behind His creation, or the real message of the religions that God has revealed to mankind in order to bring about a better world. People throughout the world express a strong desire for tolerance and peaceful coexistence, whilst ignorant leaders promote and fund both sectarian and political conflict, not only between Sunnis and Shi‘a but also between Muslim and Western countries.

Notes 1 See, for example, S. Harris (2014). See also Alain de Botton (2012). For a theory on spiritual politics as a response to the institution of religion in modern times, see J.W. Perkinson (2015). 2 Mullā Ṣadrā (2004: II, 419). 3 Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: I, 365). Muhammad Bāqir Khānsārī has quoted this hadith in Rawḍāt al-Jannāt (VI, 80–81); Shaykh Ṣadūq (1385: I, 85). 4 Mullā Ṣadrā (1984: 486). See also Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: II, 63). 5 Mullā Ṣadrā (1411a: V, 354).

Bibliography

Primary references ‘Alam al-Hudā (1407–9/1987–9) Ma‘ādin al-Ḥikma fī Makātīb al-A’imma, ed. Ali Ahmadi Miyānjī, intro. Shihāb al-Dīn Mar‘ashī, 2 vols., Qum: Jām’at al-Mudarissin. Ali (Imam Ali) Ibn Abi Tālib (1381 Sh) Nahj al-Balāghah, ed. Ṣubḥāi Ṣāliḥ, Qum: Dar al-Oswah lil-Ṭibā‘. Āmidī, Ali Ibn Muhammad (1416) Ghāyat al-Marām, Qum: Bi‘that. ——— (1980) al-Iḥkām fī Uṣūl al-Aḥkām, 2 vols., Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-Arabi. ‘Āmilī al-Ḥurr, Abu Ja‘far Muhammad (1966) Amal al-Āmil, ed. S. A. al-Husayni, 2 vols., Najaf. ʿĀmilī, Najaf: n.p. Risālat ‘Iqd al-Husayni, ed. Sayyed Javād Mudarrisī Yazdi, Yazd: Nashr Gulbahār Yazd. Āmilī, Zayn al-Dīn (Shahīd Thānī) (1409) Muniyat al-Murīd fī Adab al-Mufīd wa al-Mustafīd, ed. Rezā Mukhtārī, Qum: Maktab al-A‘lā al-Islami. Amīn, Muḥsin (1986) A‘yān al-Shi‘a, ed. Ḥ. al-Amīn, 10 vols., Beirut. Āmirī, Abul Hasan (1375) al-Rasā’il, ed. Sahban Khalifa, Tehran: Markaz Nashr-i Daneshgāh. Āmulī al-Alavī, Muhammad Ibn Ahmad (n.d.) Qawā‘id al-Salāṭīn, Tehran: Library of the Majlis, Manuscript, no. 516, fasc. 12. Āmulī, Sayyid Ḥaydar (1362 Sh) Anwār al-Ḥaqīqa wa Aṭwār al-Ṭarīqa wa Asrār ­al-Shari‘a, Tehran: Mu’assisah Mutāli’at. ——— (1367 Sh) al-Muqaddimāt min Kitāb Naṣṣ al-Nuṣūṣ fī Sharh Fuṣūṣ al-Ḥikam, eds. H. Corbin and O. Yahya, Tehran: L’Institut Franco-Iranien. ——— (1422) Tafsīr al-Muḥīṭ al-A‘zam wa al-Baḥr al-Khaḍam, 4 vols., Tehran: Vizārat Irshād. ——— (1969) Jāmi’ al-Asrār, eds. H. Corbin and Othman Yahya, Tehran: The Institut of Franco-Iranien. Anṣārī, Murtazā (Shaykh) (1415) al-Qaḍā wa al-Shahādāt, Qum: Kungere-i Jahānī. Āqā Bozorg Tehrani, Muhammad Muḥsin (1936–78) al-Dharīʿa ilā Taṣānīf al-Shiʿa, 24 vols., in 27, Najaf and Tehran: Ismā’īlīyān. Aristotle (1941a) De Anima, tr. Richard McKeon, New York: Random House. ——— (1941b) Nicomachean Ethics, tr. Richard McKeon, New York: Random House. ——— (1984)  The Politics, tr. and intro. Carnes Lord, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Aṭṭār, Farid al-Dīn (1363 Sh) Tadhkirat al-Awlīyā, ed. Muhammad Qazvini, 2 vols., ­Tehran: Intesharat Zavvār.

Bibliography  211 Badawi, A. Rahman (ed.) (1371 Sh) al-Tanbīh ‘alā Sabīl al-Sa‘āda wa al-Ta‘līqāt wa Risālatān Falsafiyyān, ed. Ja‘far Āl Yāsīn, Tehran: Hikmat. ——— (ed.) (1948/1413) Ūthūlujīyā: Aflāṭūn ‘ind al-‘Arab [Theologia Aristotelis], Cairo: L’Institut Français, repr. Qum: Intishārāt-i Bīdār. ——— (ed.) (1954) Arisṭūṭāīlīs: fi al-Nafs, Cairo: Maktabat al-Nahḍa al-Miṣriyya. ——— (1982) Aflatūn fi al-Islam, Beirut: Dar al-Andalus. Bahmanyār, Ibn Marzbān (1375 Sh) Kitāb al-Taḥṣīl, ed. M. Muṭahharī, Tehran: Tehran University Press. Bukhārī, M. Ismā‘īl (1414) al-Ṣaḥiḥ al-Bukhārī, kitāb al-riqāq, Beirut: Dār Ibn Kathīr. Dawānī, Jalāl al-Dīn (n.d.) Akhlāq-i Jalālī, Lucknow: Lithograph Edition. Daylamī, Hassan Ibn Muhammad (1371) Irshād al-Qulūb I, Qum: al-Sharīf al-Raḍiyya. Fārābī, Abū Nasr (1353 Sh) Fuṣūṣ al-Ḥikmah, Tehran: Nashr-i Ḥikmat. ——— (1362 Sh) Fī Arā’ Ahl al-Madīnat al-Fāḍilah, Qum: Dār al-Kutub al-Islamiyya. ——— (1403) Taḥṣil al-Sa‘āda, ed. Ja‘far al-Yasin, Beirut: Dar al-Andlus. ——— (1405a) al-Jam‘ bayn Ra’ al-Ḥakīmayn, ed. Albīr Naṣrī Nādir, Tehran (offset): ­al-Maktabat al-Zahrā. ——— (1405b) Fuṣūl al-Muntazi‘a, Tehran: Maktabat al-Zahrā’. ——— (1895) Mabādeʾ Ārāʾ Ahl al-Madīna al-Fāḍela (The View of the People of the Best State), ed. F. Dieterici, Leiden: Brill. ——— (1938) Risāla fi al-‘Aql, ed. M. Bouyges, Beirut: Texte Arabe. ——— (1961) Fuṣūl al-Madanī: Aphorisms of the Statesman, ed. D. M. Dunlop, Cambridge: University of Cambridge Oriental Publications. ——— (1964) Kitāb al-Sīyāsa al-Madanīya, ed. F. Najjar as  al-Farabi’s the Political Regime (al-Siyāsa al-Madanīya also Known as the Treatise on the Principles of Beings), Beirut; translated in part, F. Najjar in R. Lerner and M. Mahdi (eds.) (1963) Medieval Political Philosophy: A Sourcebook, New York: Free Press of Glencoe. ——— (1969) Alfarabi’s Book of Letters, Kitāb al-Ḥurūf, ed. Muhsin Mahdi, Beirut: Dar al-Mashriq. ——— (1985) al-Madīna al-Fāḍila (The Virtuous City); tr. R. Walzer as al-Farabi on the Perfect State: Abu Nasr al-Farabi’s Ara Ahl al-Madina al-Fadila, Oxford: Clarendon Press. ——— (1991) al-Millah wa Nuṣūṣun Ukhrā, Beirut: Dār al-Mashriq. ——— (2001a) Iḥṣā’ al-‘Ulūm, Beirut: Maktabat al-Ḥilāl. ——— (2001b) Alfarabi: Philosophy of Plato and Aristotle (The trilogy includes the Attainment of Happiness, the Philosophy of Plato, and the Philosophy of Aristotle, tr. and intro. Muhsin Mahdi, revised edition, New York: Cornell University Press. ——— (2001c) Alfarabi, The Political Writings, tr. and annot. Charles E. Butterworth, Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press. ——— (2015) ‘Political Regime’, in C. E. Butterworth (tr.)  The Political Writings II: “Political Regime” and “Summary of Plato’s Laws”, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 27–94. Ghazzālī, Muhammad (1417) al-Mustasfā fī ‘Ilm al-Uṣūl, 2 vols., Qum: Dar al-Zakhā’ir. ——— (1962a) al-Iqtiṣād fi’l-I‘tiqād (The Middle Path in Theology), ed. I. A. Çubukçu and H. Atay, Ankara: Nur Matbaasi. ——— (1962b) Tahāfut al-Falāsifa, ed. Maurice Bouyges, Beirut: al-Matba‘at al-Kathulikiya. ——— (1988) al-Iḥyā’ al-‘Ulūm al-Dīn, 4 vols., Beirut: Dar al-Qalam. ——— (n.d.) al-Munqidh min al-Ḍilāl, Cairo: n.p. Ḥillī, Ibn Muṭahhar (1959) Īḍāḥ al-Maqāṣid min Ḥikmat ‘Ayn al-Qawā‘d, ed. A. Munzawī, Tehran: Tehran University Press.

212  Bibliography ——— (1982) Nahj al-Ḥaqq wa Kashf al-Ṣidq, Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-Lubnāniyya. ——— (1985) al-Anwār al-Malakūt fī Sharh al-Yaqūt, ed. Muhammad Najmi al-Zanjāni, Qum: Intishārāt al-Riḍā and Intishārāt-i Bīdār. ——— (1988) Kashf al-Murād fī Sharh Tajrīd al-I‘tiqād, Beirut: Mu’assasat al-‘Ālami lil-Matbū‘āt. Ḥimyarī, Abdullah Ibn Ja‘far (1417) Qurb al-Isnād, Qum: Mu‘assasat al-Thiqāfat al-Islamiyya. Ibn al-‘Arabī (1367 Sh) al-Tajalliyyāt al-Ilāhiyya, ed. Uthmān Ismā‘il Yaḥyā, Tehran: Nashr Dāneshgah. ——— (1375 Sh) Sharḥ-i Muqaddima-yi Qayṣarī bar Fuṣūṣ al-Ḥikam, ed. Sayyed Jalāl al-Dīn Ashtiyāni, Tehran: Intishārāt ‘Ilmī va Farhangī. ——— (1386) Insān-i Kāmil, tr. Gol Bābā Saeedi, Tehran: Jāmī. ——— (1422) Tafsīr Ibn al-‘Arabī, 2 vols., Beirut: Iḥyā’ al-Thurāth al-Arabī. ——— (1997) Rasā’il, ed. S. ‘Arabī, Beirut: Dar al-Sadir. ——— (1998) Fuṣūṣ al-Ḥikam, Beirut: Iḥyā’ al-Turath. ——— (n.d.) al-Futūḥāt al-Makkiyya, 4 vols., Beirut: Dār al-Sadīr. Ibn al-Qayyim al-Jawziyya, Shams al-Dīn Muhammad (n.d.) Miftāh Dār al-Sa‘āda, 2 vols., Damascus: Dār al-Fikr. Ibn al-Rushd (1377 Sh) Talkhīṣ Kitāb Māba‘d al-Ṭabī‘a, ed. Othmān Amīn, Tehran (offset): Intishārāt Ḥikmah. ——— (1959) Faṣl al-Maqāl fī mā bayn al-Ḥikma wa al-Shari‘a min al-Ittiṣāl, ed. G. F. Hourani, Leiden: E. J. Brill. ——— (1961) al-Kashf ‘an Manāhij al-Adillah fī ‘Aqā’id al-Milla, ed. M. Qasim, Cairo: n.p. Ibn Bazzāz (1997/1376 Sh) Ṣafwat al-Ṣafā, 2 vols., Tehran: Intishāāt-i Zaryāb. Ibn Khaldūn (1858) al-Muqaddima, ed. Quatremere, 3 vols., Paris: Duprat. Ibn Miskawayh (1928) Tahdhīb al-Akhlāq, Cairo: n.p. Ibn Sīnā (1375a Sh) al-Ishārāt wa al-Tanbīhāt, with commentary and gloss. Nasir al-Dīn al-Tūsi and Qutb al-Dīn Muhammad al-Rāzī, 3 vols., Tehran: Intishārāt Ḥaydarī; translation of the first and second volume, Shams Inati (2004) as Ibn Sina’s Remarks and Admonitions; Physics and Metaphysics; An Analysis and Annotated Translation, New York: Colombia University Press (2014). ——— (1375b Sh) Kitāb al-Nafs min al-Shifā, ed. Ḥasanzadeh Āmuli, Qum: Markaz Intishārāt Islami. ——— (1400a) Risālat al-‘Ishq, Qum: Intishārāt-i Bīdār. ——— (1400b) Rasā’il Ibn Sina, Qum: Intishārāt-i Bīdār. ——— (1959) Kitāb al-Nafs Min Ajzā’ Kitāb al-Shifā’, ed. Fazlur Rahman, London: Oxford University Press. ——— (1973) al-Ta‘līqāt, ed. A. R. Badawī, Cairo: al-Hay’a al-Miṣriyya al-‘Āmma. ——— (1981) Rasā’il, tr. Dorri, Tehran: Intishārāt-i Markazī. ——— (1983a) al-Shifā, al-Tabī‘iyyāt, 3 vols., Qum: Maktabat al-Najafi al-Mar‘ashī. ——— (1983b) al-Shifā, al-Ilāhiyyāt, Qum: Maktabat al-Najafi al-Mar‘ashī. ——— (1986) Risāla fi al-Ḥudūd wa al-Taṣdiqāt, ed. Iḥsān ‘Āṣi, Beirut: Dar Qabis. ——— (1991) Risālat fī Ithbāt al-Nabuwwa (Proof of Prophecies), Beirut: Dār al-Nihā lil-Nashr. ——— (1992a) al-Najāt, ed. Abd al-Rahmān ‘Umayra, Beirut: Dar al-Jayl. ——— (1992b) al-Mubāḥithāt, ed. M. Bīdārfar, Qum: Intishārāt-i Bīdār. Ibn Taymiyya (1951) Sīyāsat al-Shar‘īya, Cairo: Dār al-Kutub al-‘Arabī. Isfahani, Muhammad Husayn (n.d.) Nihāyat al-Dirāya, 3 vols., Tehran: Mu‘assasat al-‘Āl al-Bayt.

Bibliography  213 Ishkiwarī, Quṭb al-Dīn (1999–2003) Maḥbūb al-Qulūb, eds. I. Dībājī and Ḥ Ṣidqī, 2 vols., Tehran: Āyīna-yi Mīrāth. Jīlānī, Abd al-Karīm (1418) al-Insān al-Kāmil fi Ma‘rifat al-Awākhir wa al-Awā’il, Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-Islamiyya. Jīlānī, Abd al-Razzāq (1366 Sh) Miṣbāh al-Shari‘a wa Miftāh al-Ḥaqīqa, ed. Jalal al-Dīn Muhadith, Tehran: Hadith Press. Jurjānī, Mir Sayyid al-Sharīf (1325) Sharh al-Mawāqif, ed. M. Badr al-Dīn, 8 vols., Cairo: n.p. Jurjānī, Sayyed Ali (1969) Kitāb al-Ta‘rīfāt, ed. A. Sprenger, Beirut: Maktabat al-Lubnān. Fayḍ Kashani, Mullā Muḥsin (1371 Sh) ‘al-I‘tidhār (A Treatise)’, in Dah Risālah, Isfahan: Markaz Tahqīqāt ‘Ilmī va Dīnī Amīr al-Mu’minīn. ——— (1372 Sh) al-Maḥajjat al-Bayḍā, Mashhad: Astān Quds. ——— (1387 Sh) ‘Sharh-i Ṣadr’, in Behzād Ja‘farī (ed.) Majmū‘a-yi Rasā’il Fayḍ Kashani, Tehran: Madreseh ‘Ālī Muṭaharī. ——— (1390) al-Uṣūl al-Aṣliyya, Tehran: Tehran University Press. ——— (1979a) al-Tafsīr al-Ṣāfī, 10 vols., Beirut: Mu‘assasat al-‘Ālamī lil-Matbū‘āt. ——— (1979b) al-Ḥaqā’iq fī Maḥāsin al-Akhlāq, Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-‘Arabī. ——— (2012) Spiritual Mysteries and Ethical Secrets, intro. S Khalil Toussi, London: ICAS Press. Karakī, Ali (1409) al-Risālah fī al-Salat al-Jum‘a, ed. Muhammad Ḥassūn, Qum: Intishārāt Anṣāriyān. ——— (n.d.) Nafakhāt al-Lāhūt fī La‘n al-Jibt wa al-Ṭāghūt, intro. M Hādī Amīnī, Tehran: Maktabat al-Naynawā. Kashani, Abd al-Razzāq (1991) Iṣṭilāḥāt al-Ṣūfiyya, ed. David Pendlebury and tr. N. Safwat, as A Glossary of Sufi Technical Terms, London: Octagon Press. Khānd Amīr, Ghiyās al-Dīn al-Husayni (1363 Sh) Tārīkh-i Ḥabīb al-Siyar, ed. Muhammad Dabīr Sīyāqī, 4 vols., Tehran: Khayyām. Kulaynī, Muhammad Ibn Ya‘qūb (1356 Sh) Uṣūl al-Kāfi, 4 vols., Tehran: Intishārāt ‘Ilmiyya Islamiyya. ——— (1988) Kashf al-Khifā’, 4 vols., Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-Islamiya. Lahījī, Abd al-Razzāq (1362 Sh) Gawhar-i Murād, ed. Ṣamad Muvaḥid, Tehran: Golshan Press. ——— (n.d.) Shawāriq al-Ilhām, Manuscript. Lāhījī, Muhammad (1371/1992) Mafātīḥ al-I‘jāz fī Sharḥ-i Gulshan-i Rāz, eds. Muhammad Riḍā Barzgar Khalīqī and ‘Iffat Karbasī, Tehran: Zawwar. Majlisī, Muhammad Bāqir (1374 Sh) Bihār al-Anwār, 128 vols., Qum: Dār al-Kutub. Ma‘ṣūm Isfahani, Muhammad (1368 Sh/1989) Khulāṣat al-Sīyar, ed. Iraj Afshār, Tehran: ‘Ilmi Māwardī, Abu al-Hasan (1996) al-Aḥkām al-Sulṭāniyya: The Laws of Islamic Governance, tr. Asadullah Yate: Ṭāhā Publishers. Mazzaoui, Michel M. (1972) The Origins of the Safawids, Shi‘ism, Sufism, and the Ghulat, Wiesbaden: F. Steiner. Mīr Dāmād (1977) Kitāb al-Qabasāt, ed. M. Mohaghegh, Tehran: Tehran University Press. Mufīd, Abu ‘Abdullah Muhammad (n.d.) Risāla fī al-Uṣūl al-Fiqh published with the book of al-Kanz al-Fawā‘id, Qum: Maktabt al-Muṣṭafavī. Munshī, Iskandar Beg (1977) ‘Ālam-Ārā-yi ‘Abbāsī, 2 vols.; tr. R. M. Savory as The History of Shah ‘Abbas, Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press. Muslim Nishaburi (1407) Ṣaḥiḥ al-Muslim, with commentary by Nūwi, Beirut: Dar al-Fikr. Najafī, Muhammad Hassan (n.d.) Jawāhir al-Kalām, Tehran: Dar al-Kutub al-Islamiya. Nu‘mānī, Muhammad Ibn Ibrāhīm (Shaykh al-Mufīd) (1376 Sh) Kitāb al-Ghaybah, Tehran: SAMT.

214  Bibliography ——— (1397) Kitāb al-Ghayba, ed. A. A. Ghaffāri, Tehran: Nashr-i Ṣadūq. ——— (2006) The Emendation of a Shi‘ite Creed; A Translation of Taṣḥīḥ al-I‘tiqād, tr. Irfān Abdul Ḥamid, Tehran: WOFIS. Nūrī, Hussien (1408) Mustadrak al-Wasā’il, Qum: al-Ihyā’ al-Turāth. Nūrī, Mullā Ali (1363 Sh) al-Ta‘līqāt ala al-Mafātīḥ al-Ghayb, Tehran: Mu’assisa Taḥīqāt-i Farhangī. Plato (1951) The Republic of Plato, tr. F. M. Cornford, Oxford: Oxford University Press. ——— (1980) Laws, Book VII, tr. and notes Thomas L. Pangle, Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press. ——— (1997) Complete Works, ed. J. M. Cooper, Indianapolis, IN: Hackett. ——— (2010) Laws: A Critical Guide, ed. Christopher Bobonich, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Plotinus (1951–73) Plotini opera, eds. P. Henry and H. R. Schwzyer with Plotiniana Arabica, 2 vols. and tr. G. Lewis, Brussels: Desclée de Brouwer; tr. A. H. Armstrong (1966– 88) Enneads, 7 vols., Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Porphyry (1887) Isagoge et in Aristotelis categorias commentarium, ed. A. Busse, Berlin: Reimer; tr. S. Strange (1992) as On Aristotle’s Categories, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. ——— (2003) Porphyry: Introduction, tr. J. Barnes, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Proclus (1864) In Platonis Parmenidem, ed. V. Cousin, Paris: Durand; tr. J. M. Dillon and G. R. Morrow (1987) as Proclus’Commentary on Plato’s Parmenides, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. ——— (1903–6) Procli in Platonis Timaeum commentaria, ed. E. Diehl, 3 vols., Leipzig: Teubner; tr. A. J. Festugière (1966–8) as Proclus: Commentaire sur le Timée, 5 tomes, Paris: Librairie philosophique J. Vrin. ——— (1963) The Elements of Theology, ed. and tr. E. Dodds, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Qayṣarī Davūd, Ibn Muhammad (1381 Sh) Rasā’il Qayṣarī, eds. Sayyid Jalāl al-Dīn Āshtīyānī, and Ilāhī Qumshe’ī, Tehran: Mu’asisi-yi Ḥikmat va Falsafi -yi Iran. Qūnawī, Ṣadr al-Dīn (1374 Sh) Miṣbāh al-Uns, Tehran: Mawla Press. Qundūzī, Sulaymān Ibn Ibrāhīm (1416) Yanābī ‘ al-Mawaddah, Qum: Dar al-‘Uswah. Qurtubī, Muhammad Ibn Ahmad (1967) al-Jāmi‘ li-Aḥkām al-Qur’an, 20 vols., Cairo: Dar al-Katīb al-‘Arabī. Rāghib, al-Isfahani (1980) Kitāb al-Dhari‘a ilā Mahārim al-Shari‘a, Beirut: A‘lamī. Rāzī, Abū Ḥātam (2011) The Proofs of Prophecy, A parallel English-Arabic text tr., intro and notes Tarif Khalidi, Prov, Utah: Brigham Young University Press. Rāzī, Fakhr al-Dīn (1346 Sh) Jāmi al-‘Ulūm (known as Sitīnī), ed. M. H. Tasbīhī, Tehran: n.p. ——— (1934) Kitāb al-Arba‘īn fī Uṣūl al-Dīn, Ḥaydar Abad: Dāyerat al-Ma‘ārif al-Uthmāniyya. ——— (1938) Tafsīr al-Kabīr, 32 vols., Cairo: al-Matba’ah al Bahiyya al-Miṣriyya. ——— (1990) al-Mabāḥith al-Mashriqiyya, 3 vols., Beirut: Dar al-Kutub. Rūmlū, Hasan Beg (1357 Sh/1978) Aḥsan al-Tawārīkh, ed. ‘Abd al-Husayn Navā’ī, Tehran: Bābak. Ṣabbāgh, Ali Ibn Muhammad (2001) al-Fuṣūl al-Muhimmah fī Ma‘rifat al-A’immah, Qum: Dār al-Hadith. Sabzavārī, Mullā Hādī (1360 Sh) al-Ta‘līqāt al-Shawāhid al-Rubūbiyya, ed. S. J. Ashtiyāni, Mashhad: Mashhad University Press. ——— (n.d.) Sharh Ghurar al-Farā’id, Manuscript.

Bibliography  215 Sachedina, Abdulaziz (1981) Islamic Messianism: The Idea of the Mahdi in Twelver Shi‘ism, Albany: SUNY Press. ——— (1988) ‘The Just Ruler (al-sulṭān al-‘ādil)’ in Shı‘ite Islam: The Comprehensive Authority of the Jurist in Imamite Jurisprudence, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ṣadūq, Abu Ja‘far (Ibn Bābwayh) (1372 Sh) Ma‘āni al-Akhbār, 2 vols., Qum: Dār alKutub al-Islamiyya. ——— (1377 Sh) Kamāl al-Dīn wa Tamām al-Ni‘ma, 2 vols., Tehran: Intishārāt Islamiyya. ——— (1385) ‘Ilal al-Sharāi‘, ed. M. S. Baḥr al-‘Ulūm, 2 vols., Najaf: Maktabat al-Ḥaydariyya. Shabistarī, Maḥmūd (1365) Majmū‘a-i Āthār, Tehran: Kitabkhāna-i Ṭahūrī. Shahristānī, M. (1405) ‘Muṣāri‘at al-Falāsifa’, in Ḥ. Mu‘izzī (ed.) Ṭūṣī’s Muṣāri‘at alMuṣāri’, Qum: Maktabat Āyatullāh al-Mar‘ashī. Shahzūrī, Shams al-Dīn (n.d.) Sharh Ḥikmat al-Ishrāq, Qum: Mu’assisa Muṭāli’āt va Taḥqīqā Farhangī. Shāmlu Walīqulī (1371 Sh) Qiṣaṣ al-Khāqānī, ed. Hasan Sādāt Nāṣirī, 2 vols., Tehran: Intishārāt Shānlu. Shātibī, Ibrāhīm (1341) al-Muwāfiqāt fī Uṣūl al-Aḥkām, 4 vols., Cairo: n.p. Shirazi, Mullā Ṣadrā (1302) Majmū‘ah Masā’il al-Tis‘ah, Qum: Maktabat Muṣṭafawī. ——— (1303) al-Ḥāshīya ‘ala al-Shifā, Tehran: Manuscript. ——— (1313) Ta‘līqa ‘ala Sharh Ḥikmat al-Ishrāq of Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī [d. 1311], copied by Muhammad b. Mīrzā Abd al-Ali Darjazīnī, ed. Asadullah Hirātī under the direction of Sayyid Ibrāhīm Ṭabāṭabā’ī, Tehran: Lithograph. ——— (1360 Sh) al-Shawāhid al-Rubūbiyya, ed. Sayyid Jalāl al-Dīn Ashtiyāni, with glosses of Mulla Hādi Sabzavārī, Mashhad: Mashhad University Press. ——— (1362 Sh) Seh Risā’il-i Falsafī, ed. and annot. S. J. Ashtīyānī, Qum: Markaz-i Intishārāt-i Daftar-i Tablīghāt-i Islami. Includes : Ajwibat al-Masā’il wa Jawāb Masā’il ba‘ḍ al-Akhillā’ (125–198). : al-Masā’il al-Qudsiyya fī al-Ḥikma al-Muta‘āliya (or al-Qawā‘id al-Malakūtiyya) (3–72). : Mutashābihāt al-Qur’an (75–121). ——— (1363a Sh) Risālat al-Ḥashr, ed. M. Khājavī, Tehran: n.p. ——— (1363b Sh) Tafsīr, Sūrat al-Wāqi‘a, ed. M. Khājavī, Tehran: Intishārāt-i Mawlā. ——— (1366 Sh) Sharh Uṣūl al-Kāfī I, ed. Muhammad Khājavī, 2 vols., Tehran: Mu’asisyi Muṭāli‘āt va Taḥqīqāt Farhangī. ——— (1376 Sh) al-Kitāb al-Mashā‘ir, Tehran: Seperh Press; tr. Parviz Morewedge (1992) as the Metaphysics of Mulla Sadra, New York: SSIPS; ed. Ibrahim Kalin and tr. S. H. Nasr (2014) as Metaphysical Penetrations: A Parallel English-Arabic Text, Brigham Young University Press. ——— (1377 Sh) Seh Aṣl, ed. Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Tehran: Rawzane Press. ——— (1378 Sh) al-Mazāhir al-Ilāhiyya fī Asrār al-‘Ulūm al-Kamāliyya, ed. M Khāmene’ī, Tehran: SIPRIn Publications. ——— (1379 Sh) Asrār al-Āyāt wa Anwār al-Bayyināt, tr. Muhammad Khājavī, Tehran: Institute of Cultural Studies and Research Press. ——— (1381a Sh) Kasr Aṣnām al-Jāhiliyya, ed. and intro. Muhsin Jahāngīrī, Tehran: Ṣadrā Islamic Philosophy Research Institute (SIPRIn); tr. F. Asadi Amjad and M. ­Dashtbozorgi ed. and intro S. Khalil Toussi (2008) as Breaking the Idols of Ignorance; Admonition of the Soi-Disant Sufi, London: ICAS Press.

216  Bibliography ——— (1381b Sh) Zād al-Musāfir, published as Sharḥī bar Zād al-Musāfir, ed. and annot. S. J. Āshtīyānī, Qum: Būstān Kitāb. ——— (1390 Sh) Iksīr al-‘Ārifīn in Majmū’a Rasā’il Falsafī, Tehran: Bunyād Ḥikmat-i Ṣadrā; tr. William Chittick (2003) as The Elixir of the Gnostics: A Parallel EnglishArabic Text, Brigham Young University Press. ——— (1411a) Tafsīr al-Qur’an al-Karīm, ed. M. Khājavī, 7 vols., Qum: Intishārāt-i Bīdār; Tafsīr Sūrat al-Nūr; tr. Latima-Parvin Peerwani (2004) as On the Hermeneutics of the Light Verse of the Qur’an, translation of Arabic text Sūrat al-Nūr, London: ICAS Press. ——— (1411b) Tafsīr, Sūrat al-Jum‘a, ed. M. Khājavī, Tehran: Mawlā Press. ——— (1976) al-Mabda’ wa al-Ma‘ād, ed. Seyyed Jalal al-Dīn Ashtiyāni, Tehran: Anjoman Falsafah-i Iran. ——— (1979) al-Wāridāt al-Qalbiyya fi al-Ma‘rifat al-Rubūbiyya, ed. Ahmad Shafī‘īhā, Tehran: Iranian Association of Islamic Philosophy. ——— (1982a) al-Ḥikmat al-‘Arshiyya, ed. and tr. Ghulām Husayn Āhanī, Tehran: Intishārāt-i Mawlā; tr. and annot. James Winston Morris (1981) as The Wisdom of the Throne, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. ——— (1982b) Iqāz al-Nā’imin, ed. Muhsin Mu’ayyidī, Tehran: Institute of Cultural Studies and Research Press. ——— (1984) Mafātīh al-Ghayb, ed. Muhammad Khājavi, annot. MullāAli Nūri, Tehran: Maktab al-Mahmūdī. ——— (1990) al-Ḥikmat al-Muta‘āliya fi al-Asfār al-Arba‘t al-Aqliyya, ed. R. Lutfi, 9 vols., Beirut: Dar Iḥyā’ al-Turāth al-‘Arabī; tr. and intro. vol. 8–9, Latimah-Parvin Peerwani (2008) as Spiritual Psychology; The Fourth Intellectual Journey in Transcendent Philosophy, volumes forworded by S. Khalil Toussi, London: ICAS Press. ——— (1999) Majmū‘i Rasā’il-i Falsafī-i Ṣadr al-Muta’alihīn, ed. Ḥāmid Nājī, Tehran: Ḥikmat Press. Includes : Ajwibat Masā’il al-Naṣīriyya (163–177). : Ajwibat Masā’il Mullā Muḍaffar Ḥusayn Kāshānī (125–160). : Ajwibat Masā’il Mullā Shamsā Gīlānī [d. 1670] (107–121). : Al-Fawā’d (345–361). : Al-Ḥashriyya (239–262). : Al-Limiyya (365–368). : Al-Mizāj (371–392). : Al-Shawāhid al-Rubūbiyya (283–342). : Al-Tanqīḥ fī al-Manṭiq (195–236). : Al-wujūd (453–463). : Aṣālat Ja‘l al-Wujūd (181–191). : Fī Ittiḥād al-‘Āqil wa-l-Ma‘ūqūl (63–103). : Ḥal shubhāt al-Jadhr al-Aṣamm (467–478). : Khalq al-A‘māl (271–279). : Tasīr Sūrat al-Taḥīd (395–449). ——— (2004) Sharh Uṣūl al-Kāfi II, ed. Muhammad Khājavī, Tehran: SIPRIn Publications. ——— (n.d.a) Sharh al-Hidāyat al-Athīriyya, n.p.: Manuscript. ——— (n.d.b) al-Ta‘liqa ‘ala al-Ḥikmat al-Ishrāq, Ṣadra’s annotations on Suhrawardi’s Ḥikmat al-Ishrāq, n.p.: Manuscript. ——— (n.d.c) Tafsīr Sūrat al-Sajdah, ed. and intro. M. Khājavī, Tehran: Intishārāt-i Mawlā. Shirazi, Quṭb al-Dīn (1365 Sh) Durrat al-Tāj, ed. Sayyid M. Mishkāt, vol. I, Tehran: Intishārāt Ḥikmat.

Bibliography  217 Suhrawardī, Shihāb al-Dīn (1361 Sh) al-Ḥikmat al-Ishrāq, Qum: Intishārāt-i Bīdār, a ­Lithographed Edition. ——— (1999) The Philosophy of Illumination, translation of al-Ḥikmat al-Ishrāq (eds. & trs.) Husain Ziai and John Walbridge, Salt Lake City: Brigham Young University Press. ——— (1945) Opera metaphysica et mystica, ed. and intro. H. Corbin, tome I, Istanbul: Ma‘ārif Matbasī. ——— (1952) Opera metaphysica et mystica, ed. H. Corbin, tome II, Tehran: L’Institut Franco- Iranien. ——— (1979) Anwariyya: Tarjuma va Sharh-i Ḥikmat al-Ishrāq-i Suhrawardī (Persian commentary of Ḥikmat al-Ishrāq by M. Hirawī), ed. H. Ziai, Tehran: Nashr Amir Kabeer. ——— (1970) Opera Metaphysica et mystica, ed. and English intro. S. H. Nasr, tome III, French intro. H. Corbin, Tehran: Mu’assasah-yi Mutāli‘āt va Taḥqīqāt-i Farhangī. ——— (1977) Majmū‘a Muṣannifāt-i Shaykh-i Ishrāq, 3 vols., Persian texts ed. and intro. in Persian, S. H. Nasr, intro. in French, H. Corbin, Tehran: Imperial Iranian Academy of Philosophy, and Paris: Adrien Maisonneuve. ——— (1999) The Philosophy of Illumination; A New Critical Edition of the Text of Ḥikmat al-Ishrāq, with English tr., notes and intro. J. Walbridge and H. Ziai, Provo, Utah: Brigham Young University Press. ——— (2000) al-Hayākil al-Nūr, ed. Muhammad Karīmī Zanjānī, Tehran: Noqṭah. Ṭabarī, M. Jarīr (1380/1960) Tārīkh al-Rusul wa al-Mulūk, ed. M. Ibrāhīm, Cairo: n.p. ——— (1954–68) Jami‘ al-Bayān fī Tafsīr al-Qur’an, 30 vols., Cairo: Dār al-Maʻārif. Ṭabāṭabā’ī, Muhammad Husayn (1376 Sh) Rasā’il; al-Insān Qabl al-Dunyā, Qum: Intishārāt-i Bīdār. ——— (1380 Sh) Nihāyat al-Ḥikmah, annot. M. T. Misbāh Yazdi, 2 vols., Tehran: Ḥikmat Press. ——— (1393) al-Mīzān fī Tasīr al-Qur’an, 3rd edition, 20 vols., Beirut: Mu’assisat al-A‘lā lil-Maṭbū‘āt. Taftazānī, Sa‘d al-Dīn (n.d.) Sharḥ al-Maqāṣid, ed. A-R. Umayra, 2 vols., Cairo: Maktabat al-Kulliyya al-Azhariyya. Tamīmī Āmīdī, Abdul al-Wāḥid (1359 Sh/1980) Ghurar al-Ḥikam wa Durar al-Kalim, Tehran: University of Tehran. Tirmidhī, Abū ‘Isā (1403) Ṣaḥiḥ Tirmidhī II, Beirut: Dār al-Fikr. Ṭūsī, Muhammad Ibn Hasan (shaykh Ṭūsī) (1367 Sh) Tahdhīb al-Aḥkām, 10 vols., Tehran: Dār al-Kutub al-Islami. ——— (1384 Sh) al-Mabsūṭ, 8 vols., Beirut: al-Maktabat al-Murtazawiyya. ——— (1411) Kitāb al-Ghayba, Qum: Mu’assas-ye Ma’ārif-i Islami. Ṭūsī, Nasīr al-Dīn (1360) Akhlāq-i Nāṣirī, Tehran: Intishārāt-i Khārazmī. ——— (1405) Muṣāri‘ al-Muṣāri‘, ed. Ḥ. Mo‘ezzī, Qum: Maktabat Āyatullāh al-Mar‘ashī. ——— (1986) Tajrīd al-I‘tiqād, Tehran: Markaz al-Nashr. Urmavī, Sirāj al-Dīn (1351 Sh) Laṭā’if al-Ḥikma, ed. G. H. Yusūfī, Tehran: Bunyad-i Farhang Iran. Waḥīdī Qazwini, Muhammad Ṭāhir (1330 Sh/1951) Abbās-Nāme, ed. I. Dihqān, Arāk: Dāvūdī.

Secondary references Abd al-Ḥaq, Muhammad (1970) ‘The Psychology of Mulla Sadra’, Journal of the Islamic Research Institute (JIRI), vol. 9, 173–181.

218  Bibliography Abd al-Rāziq, Ali (1978) al-Islam wa Uṣūl al-Ḥukm: Baḥth fī al-Khilāfa wa al-Ḥukūma fī al-Islam (Islam and the Foundations of Governance: Research on the Caliphate and Governance in Islam), Critique and commentary Mamdooh al-Ḥaqqī, Beirut: Maktabat al-Ḥayāt. Abisaab, Rula Jurdi (1994) ‘The Ulama of Jabal ‘Amil in Safavid Iran, 1501–1736: ­Marginality, Migration and Social Change’, Iranian Studies (IrS), vol. 27, no.1–4, 103–122. ——— (2004) Converting Persia: Religion and Power in the Safavid Empire, 1501–1736, London: New York: I. B. Tauris. Abrahams, S. (1999) A Historiographical Study and Annotated Translation of Volume 2 of the Ahsan al-Tavarikh by Fazli Khuzanī al-Isfahani, unpublished PhD dissertation, University of Edinburgh. Abulqāsim Pāyande (1337) Nahj al-Fasāha, Tehran: Islamiyya Publication. Açikgenç, Alparslan (1993) Being and Existence in Ṣadrā and Heidegger: A Comparative Ontology, Kuala Lumpur: International Institute of Islamic Thought and Civilization. Afandī, Mirzā ‘Abdullah (1401) al-Riyāḍ al-‘Ulamā wa Hiyād al-Fuḍalā, 5 vols., Qum: Maktabat al-Mar‘ashī. Afrūq, Emād (2007/1386 Sh) ‘Enqelāb Ṣadrā’ī’, Pegāh Ḥawzah (PḤ), no. 217, 4–18. Afzar Moin, A. (2012) The Millennial Sovereign. Sacred Kingship & Sainthood in Islam, New York: Columbia University Press. Āghā Buzurg Tehrani, Muhammad Muḥsin (n.d.) Ṭabaqāt al-A‘lām, Qum: Mu’assasat Ismā‘īliyān. Āghājarī, Hāshim (1380) Kunesh-i Dīn va Dawlat dar Iran Aṣr-i Safavi, Tehran: Markaz Bāzshenāsī Islam va Iran. Akbarīyān, Rezā (2002) ‘Trans-Substantial Motion and Its Philosophical Consequences’, Transcendent Philosophy: An International Journal for Comparative Philosophy and Mysticism (IJCPM), vol. 3, no. 2, 161–181. ——— (2008) ‘Existential Theory of knowledge’, Journal of Transcendent Philosophy (JTPh), vol. 9, no. 4, 291–330. Akbarīyān, Rezā and Ghaffārī, A. (1388) ‘Jāygāh-i Nafs dar Falsafe-yi Aristotle va Mulla Sadra’, Kherad Nāmeh (KhNS), no. 56, 4–170. Akhzarī, Ali (2013) ‘Structure and Social System of the Clergy in Safavid Era’, ­Interdisciplinary Journal of Contemporary Research in Business (IJRB), vol. 4, no. 11, 216–223. Āl Yāsīn, Sayyed Raḍī (1979) Ṣulḥ al-Ḥasan, Beirut: A‘lamī Press. Al-‘Ajlūnī, I. (1988) Kashf al-Khafā, 2 vols., Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyya. Alavīfar, Mahdiyya (1390 Sh) Ḥaqīqat al-Muhammadiyya dar Andisheh-ye Falsafi‘Irfānī-yi Mullā Ṣadrā, Qum: Hādi Press. Algar, Hamid (1969) Religion and State in Iran 1785–1906: The Role of the Ulema in the Qajar Period, Berkeley: University of California Press. ——— (1981) Islam and Revolution, tr. Hamid Algar, Berkeley: Mizan Press. ——— (1994) ‘Nuqtavi’, Encyclopedia of Islam (EI), 114–117. Amanat, Abbas (1996) ‘The Nuqtavi Movement of Mahmud Pisikhani and His Persian Cycle of Mystical-Materialism’, in F. Daftary (ed.) Medieval Ismaili History and Thought, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Amartya, Sen (2009) The Idea of Justice, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Āmilī al-‘Alawī, Muhammad Ibn Ahmad (n.d.) Qawā‘id al-Salātīn, Library of the Majlis, Tehran: manuscript, no. 516, fasc. 12. Amin Razavi, Mehdi (1992) ‘Suhrawardī’s Metaphysics of Illumination’, Hamdard ­Islamicus (HI), no. 15, 19–36, Karachi. ——— (1997) Suhrawardi and the School of Illumination, London: Curzon.

Bibliography  219 ——— (2003) ‘Avicenna’s (Ibn Sinā) Phenomenological Analysis of How the Soul (nafs) Knows Itself (‘ilm al-huḍūrī)’, in Anna-Teresa Tymieniecka (ed.) The Passions of the Soul in the Metamorphosis of Becoming, Dordrecht, Boston and London: Kluwer, 91–98. Amir-Arjomand, Said (ed.) (1984) The Shadow of God and the Hidden Imam: Religion, Political Order, and Societal Change in Shi‘ite Iran from the Beginning to 1890, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. ——— (1985) ‘The Clerical Estate and the Emergence of a Shiʿite Hierocracy in Safavid Iran: A Study in Historical Sociology’, Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient (JESHO), vol. 28, no. 2, 169–219, Brill. ——— (1988a) Authority and Political Culture in Shi‘ism, Albany: SUNY Press. ——— (ed. and tr.) (1988b) ‘Two Decrees of Shah Tahmasb Concerning Statecraft and the Authority of Shaykh ‘Ali al-Karaki’, in S. Arjomand (ed.) Authority and Political Culture in Shi‘ism, New York: SUNY Press, 250–262. ——— (2005) ‘Political Ethic and Public Law in the Early Qajar Period’, in R. Gleave (ed.) Religion and Society in Qajar Iran, London: Routledge Curzon, 21–40. Amir-Moezzi, Mohammad Ali (1993) The Divine Guide in Early Shi’ism: The Sources of Esotericism in Islam, tr. David Streight, Albany: SUNY Press. ——— (2011) The Spirituality of Shi’i Islam; Belief and Practice, London: I. B. Tauris Publishers. Amīrī, Abul Hasan (1375) Rasā’il, ed. Sahbān Khalifa, Tehran: Markaz Nashr-i Daneshgāh. Amoretti, B. S. (1986) ‘Religion in the Timurid and Safavid Periods’, in Peter Jackson, et al., (eds.) The Cambridge History of Iran, vol. VI, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 610–657. Āmulī, Muhammad Taqī (n.d.) Durar al-Fawā’id; Annotation on Sabzavāri’s Sharh al-Manzūma, Qum: Mu’assisat Maṭbū’āṭī Ismā‘īlīyān. Armstrong, Arthur Hilary (1966) An Introduction to Ancient Philosophy, London: Methuen & Co. Armstrong John M. (1997) ‘Epicurean Justice’, Phronesis, vol. 42, no. 3, 324–334. ——— (2004) ‘After the Ascent: Plato on Becoming Like God’, Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy (OSAP), vol. 26, 171–183. Ash‘arī, Abul Hasan (1953) The Theology of al-Ash‘ari, translation of Arabic texts of Kitāb al-Luma‘ and Risālat Istiḥsān al-Khawḍ fī ‘Ilm al-Kalām, ed., tr. and annot. Richard McCarthy, Beirut: Imprimerie Catholique. Āshtīyānī, S. Jalāl al-Dīn (1363 Sh) Muntakhabātī az Āthār Ḥukamā-i Ilāhī-yi Iran, 4 vols., Qum: Intishārāt Daftar-i Tablīghāt. ——— (1365 Sh) Sharh-i Ārā’ Falsafī Mullā Ṣadrā, Tehran: Nehzat Zanān. ——— (1384) Sharh bar Zād al-Musāfir (Explanation to The Wayfarer’s Provision), Tehran: Amir Kabeer Press. Astarābādī, Husayn Ibn Murtaḍā Husayni (1364 Sh) Tārīkh-i Sulṭānī az Shaykh Ṣafī ta Shāh Ṣafī, ed. Ihsan Ishraqi, Tehran: Intishārāt-i ‘Ilmī. Astarābadī, Muhammad Amīn Ibn Muhammad Shaīf (1424/2003) al-Fawā’id al-­ Madaniyya, ed. Raḥmat Allah Raḥmatī al-Arākī, Qum: Jāmi’a-ye Mudarisin Hawza-ye ‘Ilmiyya Audi, Robert (ed.) (1995) The Cambridge Dictionary of Philosophy, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Aujabī, Ali (1382 Sh) Mīr Dāmād: Bunyānguzār-i Ḥikmat-i Yamānī, Tehran: Sāhat. Averroes (1994) Averroes’ Middle Commentary on Aristotle’s De Anima, ed. Alfed L. Ivry, Cairo: Supreme Council of Culture.

220  Bibliography Avicenna De Anima (1959) Being the Psychological Part of the Kitāb al-Nafs Min Ajza’ Kitāb al-Shifā, ed. Fazlur Rahmān, Oxford: Oxford University Press. A‘wānī, Gholamrezā (2001) ‘Intentionality in Mullā Ṣadrā’, Journal of Transcendent Philosophy (JTPh), vol. 2, no. 1, 19–28, London: Institute of Islamic Studies. Ayoub, Mahmoud M. (1984) The Qur’an and Its Interpreters, Albany: SUNY Press. Aziz, Ahmad (ed.) (1971) Religion and Society in Pakistan, Leiden: E. J. Brill. Azmeh, Aziz (1997) Muslim Kingship: Power and the Sacred in Muslim, Christian, and Pagan Polities, London/New York: I.B. Tauris. Bābāie, S., Babayan, K., Baghdiantz-McCabe, I. and Farhad, M. (2004)  Slaves of the Shah, London: I. B. Tauris. Babayan, K. (1987–93) The Waning of the Qizilbāsh: The Spiritual and the Temporal in Seventeenth Century Iran, PhD thesis, Princeton University Press. ——— (1994) ‘The Safavid Synthesis: From Qizilbāsh Islam to Imamite Shi‘ism’, Iranian Studies (IrS), vol. 27, no. 1–4, 135–161. ——— (1996) ‘Sufis, Dervishes and Mullas’, in C. Melville (ed.) Safavid Persia, Pembroke Papers 2, London: I. B. Tauris. ——— (1998) ‘The Aqā‘id al-Nisā; A Glimpse at Safavid Women in Local Isfahan Culture’, in G. Hambly (ed.) Women in the Medieval of Islamic World, London: St. Martin’s Press, 349–382. ——— (2002) Mystics, Monarchs, and Messiahs: Cultural Landscapes of Early Modern Iran, Cambridge, MA: Harvard Center for Middle Eastern Studies. Baldick, J. (1989) Mystical Islam: An Introduction to Sufism, London: I. B. Tauris. Balādhirī, Y. (2003) Anṣāb al-Ashrāf, ed. Wilferd Madelung, vol. 2, Beirut: Orient Institute. Baltzly, D. (2004) ‘The Virtues and “Becoming Like God”: Alcinous to Proclus’, Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy (OSAP), vol. XXVI, 297–321. Barker, Ernest (1960) Greek Political Theory: Plato and His Predecessors, London: Methuen. Barzegar A. (2013) ‘ayatollah’ in G. Bowering (ed.), The Princeton Encyclopedia of Islamic Political Thought (PEIPT), New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 55–57. Bashir, Shahzad (2001) ‘The Imam’s Return: Messianic Leadership in Late Medieval Shi’ism’, in Linda Walbridge (ed.) The Most Learned of the Shi‘a: The Institution of the Marja‘Taqlid, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 21–31. Bayat, Mangol (1982) Mysticism and Dissent; Socioreligious Thought in Qajar Iran, New York: Syracuse University Press. Beeson, Caroline (1982) The Origins of Conflict in the Ṣafawī Religious Institution, unpublished PhD dissertation, Princeton University Press. Bengio, Meir Litvak (ed.) (2011) The Sunna and Shi‘a in History; Division and Ecumenism in the Muslim Middle East, New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Black, Antony (ed.) (2001) The History of Islamic Political Thought: From the Prophet to the Present, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Black, Deborah L. (1996) ‘al-Farabi’, in S. H. Nasr and O. Leaman (eds.) History of Islamic Philosophy, 2 vols., vol. I, London: Routledge, 178–197. Blake, Stephen (2003) ‘Shah Abbās and the Transfer of the Safavid Capital from Qazvin to Isfahan’, in A. J. Newman (ed.) Society and Culture in the Early Modern Middles East: Studies on Iran in the Safavid Period, vol. XLVI, Islamic History and Civilization Leiden, 145–164. Bonelli, Gina M. (2009) Fārābi’s Virtuous City and the Plotinian World Soul: A New Reading of Farabi’s ‘Mabadi Ara’ Ahl Al-Madina Al-Fadila’, unpublished doctoral dissertation. Boroujerdi, Mehrzad (1996) Iranian Intellectuals and the West: The Tormented Triumph of Nativism, Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press.

Bibliography  221 Bostānī, Ahmad (1389 Sh) ‘Mulla Sadra Filsūf-i Siyāsat Nīst’, Māhnāmeyeh ‘Ulūm Insāī (MUIM), vol. 1, no. 2, 10–26. Botton, Alain de (2012) Religion for Atheists: A Non-Believer’s Guide to the Uses of Religion, London: Penguin Books. Bowering, Gerhard (ed.) (2013) The Princeton Encyclopedia of Islamic Political Thought, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Browne, Edward G. (1954) A Literary History of Persia, vol. IV, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Brown, Eric (2009) Plato’s Ethics and Politics in the Republic, retrieved on April 15, 2010 from the World Wide Web, http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/plato-ethics-politics/#4. Brumberg, D. (2001) Reinventing Khomeini: The Struggle for Reform in Iran, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Butterworth, Charles E. (ed.) (1992) The Political Aspects of Islamic Philosophy: Essays in Honor of Muhsin S. Mahdi, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. ——— (2001) Alfarabi, The Political Writings, Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press. ——— (2015) The Political Writings II. “Political Regime” and “Summary of Plato’s Laws”, Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press. Burrell, David (1999) ‘Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) and Mulla Sadra Shirazi (1572– 1640) and the Primacy esse/wujud in Philosophical Theology’, Medieval Philosophy and Theology (MPhT), vol. 8, no. 2, 207–219. ——— (2004) Faith and Freedom; An Interfaith Perspective, Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. ——— (2013) ‘Aquinas and Mulla Sadra on the Primary of Existence’, in Ali Paya (ed.) The Mistry land of Ideas and the Light of Dialogue, London: ICAS Press. Calder, N. (1979) The Structure of Authority in Imami Shi‘i Jurisprudence, doctoral thesis, London: University of London. Calverley, Edwin Elliott (1955) ‘Doctrine of the Soul (nafs and ruh) in Islam’, Muslim World (MW), vol. 33, 246–254. Carl W. Ernst (2004) ‘Tariqa’ in Martin, Richard C. (ed.) Encyclopedia of Islam and the Muslim World (EIMW ) (Hartford, CN), volume I and II, USA: Macmillan Reference, 680–683. Carre, Olivier (2003) ‘Mysticism and Politics: A Critical Reading of “Fi Zilal al-Qur’an” by Sayyid Qutb (1906–1966)’, in Oliver Leaman (ed.) and Carol Artigues (tr.) The Biographical Encyclopedia of Islamic Philosophy (BEIPh), Leiden and Boston: E.J. Brill. Carrette, Jeremy R. (2000) Foucault and Religion Spiritual Corporality and Political Spirituality, London: Routledge. Chelongar, Muhammad Ali (1383) ‘Siyāsat Madhhabī Shah Ṭahmāsb Awwal va ­Gustaresh-i Tashayyu‘ dar Iran’, in Maqṣūd Ali Ṣādeqī (ed.) Iran Zamīn dar Gustareyeh Tārīkh Safaviyya, Tabriz: Sutūdeh, 263–278. Chittick, William C. (1954–2004) ‘Muḥsin Fayḍ-i Kāshāni’, in Encyclopaedia of Islam (EI), vol. VII, 2nd edition, Leiden: Brill, 475–476. ——— (1984) The Sufi Path of Love: The Spiritual Teachings of Rumi, Albany: SUNY Press. ——— (1989) The Sufi Path of Knowledge, Albany: SUNY Press. ——— (2003) The Elixir of the Gnostics: A Parallel English-Arabic Text, Prov, Utah: Brigham Young University Press. ——— (2005) Ibn ‘Arabi Heir to the Prophets, Oxford: Oneworld Publications. ——— (2008) Sufism: A Beginner’s Guide, Oxford: Oneworld Publications. Chodkiewicz, Michel (1993) Seal of the Saints, Prophethood and Sainthood in the Doctrine of Ibn al-Arabi, Cambridge: The Islamic Texts Society. Clark, Malcolm (2003) Islam for Dummies, New York: Wiley Publishing.

222  Bibliography Collin, Peter Hodgson (1997) Dictionary of Government and Politics, Cambridge: Peter Collin Publishing. Cooper, John (1998) ‘Mullā Ṣadrā (Ṣadr al-Dīn al-Shirazi)’, in Edward Craig (ed.) Routledge Encyclopaedia of Philosophy (REPh), vol. VI, London: Routledge, 595–599. ——— (1999) ‘Rūmī and ḥikmat’, in L. Lewisohn (ed.) The Heritage of Persian Sufism, vol. I, Oxford: Oneworld publications, 409–433. Corbin, Henry (1956) ‘Confessions extatiques de Mir Damad: maître de théologie à Ispahan’, in Henri Massé (ed.)  Mélanges offerts à Louis Massignon, 3 vols., Damascus: Institut Français de Damas. ——— (1963) ‘Sayyed Haydar Amuli (V ille/XIVe siècle) theologien shi‘ite du soufism’, Melanges Henri Masse, Tehran, 72–101. ——— (1969) Creative Imagination in the Sufism of Ibn ‘Arabi, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. ——— (1971) En Islam Iranien, 4 vols., Paris: Gallimard. ——— (1972) ‘Mollā Ṣadrā Shīrāzi’, in  En Islam Iranien, vol. IV, Paris: Gallimard, 52–122. ——— (1981) The Concept of Comparative Philosophy, tr. P. Russell, Ipswich: ­Golgonooza Press. ——— (1990) Spiritual Body and Celestial Earth: From Mazdean Iran to Shi‘ite Iran, tr. N. Pearson, London: I. B. Tauris. ——— (1993) History of Islamic Philosophy, tr. P. Sherrard, London: Kegan Paul International. ——— (1995) Swedenborg and Esoteric Islam, tr. Leonard Fox, West Chester, PA: Swedenborg Foundation. Crone, Patricia (2003) ‘What Was Al-Fārābī’s ‘Imamic’ Constitution?’ Arabica, vol. 50, no. 3, 306–321. Crow, Karim (2005) ‘Mullā Ṣadrā on the First Intellect in his Sharḥ Uṣūl al-Kāfī’, in Eschatology, Exegesis, Hadith, (EsExH) in Islam-West Philosophical Dialogue: The Papers Presented at the World Congress on Mullā Ṣadrā, May, 1999, Tehran: Sadra Islamic Philosophy Research Institute, 571–590. Dabashi, Hamid (1993) Theology of Discontent: The Ideological Foundations of the Islamic Revolution in Iran, New York: New York University Press. ——— (1996) ‘Mir Damad and the Founding of the School of Isfahan’, in S. H. Nasr and O. Leaman (eds.) A History of Islamic Philosophy, 2 vols., vol. II, London: Routledge, 597–634. ——— (2011) Shi‘ism A Religion of Protest, Cambridge: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Dakake, Maria Massi (2004) ‘The Soul as Barzakh: Substantial Motion and Mullā Sadrā’s Theory of Human Becoming’, The Muslim World (MW), vol. 94, no. 1, 107–130. ——— (2005) ‘The Origin of Man in Pre-Eternity and His Origination in Time: Mullā Ṣadrā and Imāmī Shī‘ite Tradition’, in Eschatology, Exegesis, Hadith (EsExH) in IslamWest Philosophical Dialogue: The Papers Presented at the World Congress on Mullā Ṣadrā, May 1999, Tehran: Sadra Islamic Philosophy Research Institute, 147–166. ——— (2007) The Charismatic Community: Shi‘ite Identity in Early Islam, Albany, NY: SUNY Press. D’Ancona Costa, Cristina (1997) ‘Divine and Human Knowledge in the Plotiniana Arabica’, in J. J. Cleary (ed.) The Perennial Tradition of Neoplatonism, Leuven: Leuven University Press.

Bibliography  223 Dashtbozorgī, M. and Asadī Amjad, F. (2008) Breaking the Idols of Ignorance; Admonition of the Soi-Disant Sufi, ed. and intro. S Khalil Toussi, London: ICAS Press. Dāvarī, Riḍā (n.d.) ‘Ra‘is al-Awwal dar Falsafa-i Mullā Ṣadrā’, Nāmeh-i Farhang (NF ), no. 3, 63–75, Tehran: Vezarat Farhang va Irshad-i Islami. Davidson, D. (1980) Essays on Actions and Events, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Davidson, Herbert A. (1992) Alfarabi, Avicenna, and Averroes, on Intellect; Their Cosmologies, Theories of the Active Intellect, and Theories of Human Intellect, New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press. De Groot, Joanna (2007) Religion, Culture and Politics in Iran: from the Qajars to Khomeini, London: I. B. Tauris. Dean Commins, David (1990) Islamic Reform: Politics and Social Change in Late Ottoman Syria, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Dewes Winspea, Alban (2011) The Genesis of Plato’s Thought, New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publisher. Dickson, Martin (1958) Shah Tahmasb and the Uzbeks, PhD dissertation, Princeton University Press. Diogenes Allen and Eric O. Springsted (2007), Philosophy for Understanding Theology, London: Westminster John Knox Press. Druart, Thérêse-Anne (1988) ‘The Soul and Body Problem: Avicenna and Descartes’, in Thérêse-Anne Druart (ed.) Arabic Philosophy and the West, Washington, DC: Georgetown University, 29–34. El Fekkak, B. (2010) ‘Alexander’s ‘Ināya Transformed: Justice as Divine Providence in Al-Fārābī’, Documenti e Studi sulla Tradizione Filosofica Medievale, no. 21, 1–17. Eliash, J. (1969) ‘The Ithnā ‘Ashari Shi‘i Juristic Theory of Political and Legal Authority’, Studia Islamica (SI), no. 29, 17–30. Enāyat, Hamid (1377 Sh.) Bunyād-i Falsafī-yi Sīyāsat dar Gharb, Tehran: Nashr Zemestān. ——— (1982) Modern Islamic Political Thought: The Response of the Shi‘i and Sunni Muslims to the Twentieth Century, London: Palgrave Macmillan. Endress, Gerhard (2012) ‘Platonizing Aristotle; the Concept of Spiritual (rūhānī) as a Keyword of the Neoplatonic Strand in Early Arabic Aristotelianism’, Studia graeco-arabica (Sga), 2, e-open access, 263–279. Esots, Janis (2007) Mullā Ṣadrā’s Teaching on Wujūd: A Synthesis of Philosophy and Mysticism, PhD dissertation, Tallinn University. Fakhry, Majid (1970) A History of Islamic Philosophy, New York: Columbia University Press. ——— (1975) ‘Justice in Islamic Philosophical Ethics: Miskawayh’s Mediating Contribution’, The Journal of Religious Ethics, vol. 3, no. 2, 243–254. ——— (1994) Ethical Theories of Islam, Leiden: E.J. Brill. ——— (2001) Averrose, His Life, Works and Influences, Oxford: Oneworld Publications. ——— (2002) Al-Farabi, Founder of Islamic Neoplatonism, Oxford: Oneworld Publications. Fakhuri, Hanna and al-Jurr, Khalil (1979) Tarīkh-i Falsafa dar Jahān-i Islam, tr. Abd alMuhammad Āyati, 2 vols., Tehran: Kitāb-i Zamān. Falsafī, Nasrullah (1342 Sh/1963) ‘Dast-hā-yi khūn-ālūd’, in Chand Maqāli-yi Tārīkhī va Adabī, Tehran. ——— (1347 Sh) Zindagāni -yi Shah Abbās Awwal, 5 vols., Tehran: Tehran University Press. Finnegan, J. (1956) ‘Avicenna’s Refutation of Porphyrius’, in Avicenna Commemoration Volume, Calcutta: Iran Society, 187–203. Foucault, M. (1980) Power/Knowledge, ed. C. Gordon, London: Harvester Press.

224  Bibliography Fowden, Garth (1986) The Egyptian Hermes: A Historical Approach to the Late Pagan Mind, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gaarder, Jostein (1996) Sophie’s World, New York: Berkley Books. Galston, Miriam (1990) Politics and Excellence: The Political Philosophy of Al Farabi, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Gauthier, David (1998) ‘Why Contractarainism’, in James Rachels (ed.) Ethical Theory, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 111–126. Gerson, Lloyd P. (1994) Plotinus, London: Routledge. Ghanī, Qāsim (1340 Sh) Tārīkh-i Tasawwuf dar Islam, Teharn: Zavvār. Gharavī Isfahani, Muhammad Javād (n.d.) Chand Guftār (A Few Essays), Chapter Three, n.p. Gholsorkhī, Shohreh (1994) ‘Ismail II’ and Mirza Makhdum Sharifi: An Interlude in Safavid History’, The International Journal of Middle East Studies (IJMES), no. 26, 480–485. Gilson, Etienne (1952) Being and Some Philosophers, Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies. Gleave, Robert (2005) ‘Jihad and the Religious Legitimacy of the Early Qajar State’, in R. Gleave (ed.) Religion and Society in Qajar Iran, London: Routledge Curzon, 41–70. ——— (2007) Scripturalist Islam: The History and Doctrines of the Akhbārī Shī‘ī School, Leiden and Boston: Brill. Gobineau, Comte Joseph Arthur de (1933) Les philosophies et religions de l’Asie centrale, Paris: Gallimard. Goldziher, Ignaz (1971) Muslim Studies, tr. C. R. Barber and S. M. Stern, vol. 2, London: Allen & Unwin. Golshani, Mehdi (2002) Proceedings of the Congress on Imam ‘Ali (Persian Articles), Tehran: Institute for Humanities and Cultural Studies. Goodin, Robert E. and Klingemann, Hans-Dieter (1998) ‘Political Science: The History of the Discipline’, in Robert E. Goodin and Hans-Dieter Klingemann (eds.) A New Handbook of Political Science, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 50–97. Goodman, Lenn E. (1996) ‘Prescriptivity’, Journal of Jewish Thought and Philosophy (JJTPh) vol. 5, no. 2, 147–175. ——— (2015) Judaism, Humanity, and Nature, eds. Hava Tirosh-Samuelson and Aaron W. Hughes, Leiden: Brill. Graham, A. William (1977) Divine Word and Prophetic Word in Early Islam, Paris and the Hague: Mouton and Co.; Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter. Graham, Terry (1999) ‘The Ni‘matullāhī Order Under Safavid Suppression and in Indian Exile’, in Leonard Lewisohn and David Morgan (eds.) The Heritage of Sufism. Volume III: Late Classical Persianate Sufism (1501–1750), the Safavid and Mughal Period, Oxford: Oneworld Publications, 165–200. Green, Nile (2015) ‘Islam in the Early Modern World’, in J. Bentley, S. Subrahmanyam and M. Wiesner-Hanks (eds.) Cambridge World History, vol. VI, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 358–385. Gutas, Dimitri (2014) Avicenna and the Aristotelian Tradition, Leiden: Brill. Hādavī, Mahdī (1381 Sh) Wilāyat wa Diyānat, Qum: Khāneh Khirad. Hāerī, Fadhlalla (2002) The Inner Meaning of Worship in Islam, Blanco, TX: Zahra Publications. Ḥāerī, Seyed Kāzim (1415) Wilāyat al-Amr fī Aṣr al-Ghaybah, Qum: Majma‘ al-Fikr al-Islami.

Bibliography  225 Ḥāery Yazdī, Mehdī (1992) The Principles of Epistemology in Islamic Philosophy: Knowledge by Presence, Albany: SUNY Press. ——— (1995) Ḥikmat wa Ḥukūmat (Wisdom and Government), London: Shādī Publication. Ḥā’irī Māzandarānī, Muhammad Ṣāliḥ (1956) Ḥikmat-i Bū ‘Alī Sīnā, 4 vols., Tehran: Intishārāt-i Islamiyya. Hajamaideen, Faris (2019) ‘ʿIlm and the Human Body: Al-Suhrawardī’s Concept of the Illuminated Temple’, in Samer Akkach (ed.) ‘Ilm: Science, Religion and Art in Islam, (ISRAI), Adelaide: University of Adelaide Press, 125–138. Ḥaqīqat, Ṣādiq (2014/1393 Sh) ‘Imām Khomaini, Mullā Ṣadrā va Inqilāb Islami’, Mehr Nāmeh (MN), no. 36. Hare, R. M. (1952) The Language of Morals, New York: Oxford University Press. Harris, Sam (2014) Waking Up: A Guide to Spirituality Without Religion, New York: Simon & Schuster. Hasanī, Abulhasan (1389 Sh) Muqadame-e bar Ḥikmat Siyāsī-yi Muta‘āliyya, Qum: Pajūheshgāh ‘Ulūm va Farhang-i Islami. Hasanzādeh Āmulī, Hasan (1361 Sh) Ma‘rifat al-Nafs, Tehran: Markaz Nashr ‘Ilmī va Farhangī. ——— (1362 Sh) Itiḥād ‘Āqil wa Ma‘qūl, Qum: Intishārāt Būstān. Haythamī, Ibn al-Ḥajar (n.d.) al-Qawl al-Mukhtaṣar fī ‘Alāmāt al-Mahdi al-Muntazar, Cairo: Maktabat al-Qur’an. Heath, Peter (1992) Allegory and Philosophy in Avicenna (Ibn Sina): With a Translation of the Book of the Prophet Muhammad’s Ascent to Heaven, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Heidegger, Martin (1996) Being and Time, a Translation of Sein und Zeit, tr. J. Stambaugh, Albany: SUNY Press. Herbert, Thomas (1634) A Relation of Some Yeares Travaile Begunne Anno 1626 into Afrique and the Greater Asia, London. Herodotus (1972) The Histories, tr. Aubrey de Selincourt, rev. A. R. Burn, Harmondsworth: Penguin. Hillenbrand, Robert  (1989) ‘Safavid Architecture’, Cambridge History of Iran, vol. VI, 759–841. Hodgson, Marshall (1974–7) The Venture of Islam, 2 vols., Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Hoffman, Valerie J. (2002) ‘al-Farabi’s “True King” and Mulla Sadra’s “Path” ’; Human Perfection and Divine Action in Islamic Esoteric Traditions’, in Islam-West Philosophical Dialogue: The Papers Presented at the World Congress on Mulla Sadra, May, 1999, Tehran: Sadra Islamic Philosophical Research Institute, 171–189. Hoover, Jon (2016) ‘Ḥashwiyya’, in Kate Fleet, Gudrun Krämer, Denis Matringe, John Nawas and Everett Rowson (eds.) Encyclopaedia of Islam (EI), THREE, http://dx.doi. org/10.1163/1573-3912_ei3_COM_30377. Horten, Max (1912) Die Gottesbeweise bei Schirāzī, Bonn: Friedrich Cohen Verlag. ——— (1913) Das philosophische System von Schirazi, Strassburg: Trübner. Huffman, C. A. (2009) ‘The Pythagorean Conception of the Soul from Pythagoras to Philolaus’, in D. Frede and B. Reis (eds.) Body and Soul in Ancient Philosophy, Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 21–44. Hume, David (1888) A Treatise of Human Nature (1739–40), ed. L. A. Selby-Bigge, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Hussain, Jassim M. (1982) The Occultation of the Twelfth Imam: A Historical Background, London: Muhammadi Trust.

226  Bibliography Hussieni Qā’im Maqāmī, S. Abbas (1379 Sh) Qudrat va Mashrū‘iyyat, Tehran: Sureh Mehr. Ibrāhīmī Dīnānī, Ghulamhusayn (1355 Sh) Falsafe-yi Suhrawardī, Tehran: Intishārāt Ḥikmat. ——— (1366 Sh) Shu‘ā‘-i Andīshe va shuhūd dar Falsafa-yi Suhravardī, Tehran: Intishārāt Ḥikmat. ——— (1386) Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūṣī, Tehran: Hermes. Imami Jum‘ah, Mahdi (1391 Sh) Sayr Taḥvvul Falsafī-i Isfahan az Ibn Sīnā tā Mullā Ṣadrā, Tehran: Mu’assise-i Pazhūheshī Ḥikmat va Falsafey-i Iran. Inati, Shams (2004) Ibn Sina’s Remarks and Admonitions; Physics and Metaphysics; An Analysis and Annotated Translation, New York: Colombia University Press. Iqbal, Muhammad (1908) The Development of Metaphysics in Persia, London: Luzac. Isfahani, Ibn Turka (1372 Sh) Taḥrīr Tamhīd al-Qawā‘id, ed. and tr. Javādī Āmulī, Tehran: Intishārāt-i Zahrā’. ——— and Mohaghegh M. (trs.) (1983) Sharḥ Ghurar al-Farā’id Ma‘rūf bi Sharḥ Manzūma-yi Ḥikmat, qism umūr ‘āmma wa jawhar wa a‘rāḍ, Tehran: McGill Institute of Islamic Studies. Izutsu, Toshihiko (1970) The Fundamental Structure of Sabzawari’s Metaphysics, ­Montreal: McGill University, Institute of Islamic Studies. ——— (1979) ‘Between Image and No-Image: Far Eastern Ways of Thinking’, Eranos (Er) vol. XLVIII, 434–435. ——— (1994) Creation and the Timeless Order of Things: Essays in Islamic Mystical Philosophy, Ashland, OR: White Cloud Press. ——— (2002) Ethico-Religious Concepts in the Qur’an, Montreal: McGill, Queens ­University Press. Jackson, Peter (2005) The Mongols and the West 1221–1410, Harlow: Pearson Longman. Jacoby, Russell (2005) Picture Imperfect: Utopian Thought for an Anti-Utopian Age, New York: Columbia University Press. Ja‘farī, M. ‘Isā (1375 Sh) ‘Intisāb Hadīqat al-Shi‘a be Muqaddas Ardabīlī’, Journal of Ḥawzah (JḤ), no. 75, 75–103. Ja‘farīyān, Rasūl (1373–1378 Sh) ‘Seh Risāleh dar Bāre-yi abu Muslim va abu Muslimnamehā’, in R. Ja‘farīyān (ed.) Mīrāth Islami Iran, vol. 7, Qum: Intishārāt Kitabkhāneh Mar‘ashī. ——— (1376 Sh) Tārīkh-i Tashayyu’ dar Iran, 2 vols., Qum: Ansāriyān. ——— (1379 Sh/2000) ‘Guzārish-i Andīshi-yi Sīyāsī-yi yek ‘Ālim-i Shi‘i’, in R. Ja‘farīyān (ed.) Maqālāt-i Tārīkhī, vol. IV, Qum, 13–41. ——— (1383 Sh) ‘Nazariya-yi Luzūm Taqlīd az Mujtahid Zende va Ta’thīr ān dar Sāzemān Sīyāsī Kishvar-i Iran dar Dore-yi Safavi’, in Ali Ṣādiqī (ed.) Iranzamīn dar Gostarey-yi Tārīkh Safaviyya, Tabriz: University of Tabriz, 245–262. ——— (1384/2005) Kāwushhā-yi Tāzeh dar Bāb-i Rūzgār-i Safavi, Tehran: Nashr-i Adyān, 79–152. ——— (1389) Safaviyya dar ‘Arsi-yi Dīn, Farhang va Sīyāsa, 3 vols., Qum: Pazhūheshgāh Hawzah va Dāneshgāh. ——— (1991) Dīn va Sīyāsat dar Daurah-yi Safavi, Qum: Ansāriyān Press. ——— (2003) ‘The Immigrant Manuscripts: A Study of the Migration of Shi‘i Works from Arab Regions to Iran in the Early Safavid Era’, in A. Newman (ed.) Society and Culture in the Early Modern Middle East, Leiden: Brill. ——— (n.d.) Astarābād dar Qarn-i Nukhust Hukūmat-i Safavi, n.p. Jambet, Christian (2000) Se rendre immortel suivi du Traité de la résurrection de Mollā Sadrā Shīrāzī, Paris: Fata Morgana.

Bibliography  227 ——— (2006) The Act of Being: The Philosophy of Revelation in Mullā Sadrā, tr. J. Fort, New York: Zone Books. This book was originally published in French as L’acte d’être: la philosophie de la révélation chez Mollâ Sadrâ, Paris: Fayard, 2002. Janssens, Jules L. (2006) ‘Mullā Ṣadrā’s Use of Ibn Sinā’s Ta’līqāt in the Asfār’, in Ibn Sinā and His Influence on the Arabic and Latin World, Variorum Collected Studies Series, Part XIII, UK: Ashgate Vaiorum, 1–13. Javādī, Moḥsen (2007) ‘Aristotle and Farabi on the Definition and Priority of Substance’, in Ch. Kanzian and M. Legenhausen (eds.) Substance and Attribute Western and Islamic Traditions in Dialogue (SAWITD), vol. 5, Frankfurt: Ontos Verlag, 67–77. Javādī Āmulī, Abdullah (1368 Sh) ‘Naqsh Imam Khomaini dar Tajdīd Banā-yi Nizām ­Imamat’, Kayhān Andīshe, (KA), no. 24, 3–24. ——— (1375 Sh) ‘Sayrī dar Mabanī-i Wilāyat Faqīh’, Journal of Ḥukumat Islami (ḤI), no. 1, 4–16. ——— (1378) Wilāyat al-Faqīh, Qum: Nashr-i Asrā’. ——— (1387 Sh) Taḥrīr Tamhīd al-Qawā ‘d, Qum: Nashr-i Asrā’. ——— (1996–2002) Raḥiq-i Makhtūm, Sharh-i Ḥikmat-i Muta‘āliyya, 8 vols., Qum: Asrā’ Press. Kadīvar, Muḥsen (1378 Sh) ‘Mullā Ṣadrā, Ḥakīm Degar-andīsh’, the magazine of Ṣub-i Emrūz (ṢE). ——— (1387a Sh) Sīyāsat Nāme-yi Khorāsānī, Tehran: Ghazāl. ——— (1387b Sh) Ḥukūmat-i Wilā’ī, Tehran: Nashr Nay. ——— (1387c Sh) Sharī‘at va Sīyāsa, Kadivar.com. Kahn, C. (1981) The Verb ‘Be’ in Ancient Greek, volume 6 of The Verb ‘Be’ and Its Synonyms: Philosophical and Grammatical Studies, Dordrecht: D. Reidel Publishing Co. ——— (2015) ‘AL-‘AMILI, Baha’ al-Din (953–1030/1547–1621)’ in Oliver Leaman (ed.) The Biographical Encyclopedia of Islamic Philosophy (BEIPh), Leiden and Boston: E.J. Brill. Kalin, Ibrahim (2000) ‘Knowledge as Appropriation vs. Knowledge as Reprehension’, Journal of Transcendent Philosophy (JTPh), vol. I, no. 1, 74–91. ——— (2002) ‘Mulla Sadra’s Realist Ontology of the Intelligibles and Theory of Knowledge’, lslôm Araştırmalari Dergisi (IAD), Sayi 7, no. 1,·29. ——— (2003a) ‘Between Physics and Metaphysics; Mulla Sadra on Nature and Motion’, Islam and Science (IaS), vol. 1, no. 1, 59–90. ——— (2003b) ‘An Annotated Bibliography of the Works of Mulla Sadra with a Brief Account of His Life’, Islamic Studies (IS), vol. 42, no. 1, 21–62. ——— (2007) ‘Mulla Sadra on Theodecy and the Best of All Possible World’, Journal of Islamic Studies (JIS), vol. 18, no. 2, 183–201. ——— (2010) Knowledge in Later Islamic Philosophy: Mullā Sadrā on Existence, Intellect, and Intuition, New York: Oxford University Press. Kamal, Muhammad (2006) Mulla Sadra’s Transcendent Philosophy, Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing Limited. ——— (2009) From Essence to Being, London: ICAS Press. ——— (2013) ‘Parmenides and Mulla Sadra: the Mystical Journey’. in A Paya (ed.) The Mistry Land of Ideas and the Light of Dialogue, London: ICAS Press, 105–126. Kamil, Mustafa Shaybi (1980) Tashayyu‘ wa Tasavvuf tā Āghāz-i Ṣade-yi Davāzdahum-i Hijrī, Tehran: n.p. Kāmravā, Mehrān (ed.) (2006) The New Voices of Islam: Rethinking Politics and Modernity, California: University of California Press. ——— (2008) Iran’s Intellectual Revolution, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

228  Bibliography Kashani, Abd al-Razzāq (1991) ‘Iṣṭilāḥāt al-Ṣūfiyya’, in A. Sprenger (ed.) A Glossary of Sufi Technical Terms, London: Octagon Press. Katouzian, Homa (1981) The Political Economy of Modern Iran, New York and London: New York University Press. Kāzemī, Bahrām (2001) ‘Barrasi-yi Taṭbīqī-yi Mafhūm-i ‘Idālat dar Andīshi-yi Imam ‘Ali wa Aflatun’ (A Comparative Analysis of the Concept of Justice in Imam ‘Ali and Plato)’, in M. Golshanī (ed.) Proceedings of the Congress on Imam ‘Ali (Persian article), Tehran: Institutes for Humanities and Cultural Studies. Kellens, J. (2009) ‘Avesta’, in Encyclopædia Iranica Online, www.iranica.com. Kenney, John Peter (1991) Mystical Monotheism, London: Brown University Press of New England. Keyt, David (2006) ‘Plato on Justice’, in H. Benson (ed.) A Companion to Plato, Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 341–355. Khadduri, Majid (1984) The Islamic Conception of Justice, Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Khājawī, Muhammad (1366 Sh) Lawāmi’ al-‘Ārifīn fī Aḥwāl Ṣadr al-Muta’ahilīn, Tehran: Mawlā. Khālidī, Muhammad Ali (2003) ‘al-Fārābi on the Democratic City’, British Journal for the History of Philosophy (BJHPh), vol. 11, no. 3, 379–394. Khāmeneī, Muhammad (2000/1379 Sh) Mullā Ṣadrā: Zendegi, Shakhsiyyat va Maktab-e Ṣadr al-Muta’lihīn I, Tehran: SIPRIn Publications. Khomeinī, Rūhullah (1390 Sh) Wilāyat-i Faqīh, Tehran: Nashr-i Āthār-i Imam. ——— (1981) Islam and Revolution, tr. Hamid Algar, Berkeley: Mizan Press. Khorasani, Sharf al-Dīn (1370 Sh) Nakhustīn Fīlsūfān Yūnānī, Tehran: Intisharat Āmūzish Inqilāb Islami. Khurshāh, Ibn Qubād (2000) Tārīkh-i Ilchī-yi Nizāmshāh, eds. M. R. Nasiri and K. Haneda, Tehran: n.p. Khansārī, Muhammad Bāqir (1991) Rawḍāt al-Jannāt fī Ahwāl al-‘Ulamā’ wa al-Sādāt, 8 vols., Beirut: Islamiyya Press. Kohlberg, Etan (1976) ‘The Development of the Imami-Shi‘i Doctrine of Jihād’, Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morganländischen Gesellschaft (ZDMG), vol. 126, 64–76, Leipzig-Wiesbaden. ——— (1985) ‘Akhbāriya’, Encyclopaedia Iranica (EIr), vol. I, 716–718. ——— (1987) ‘Astarābādī’, Encyclopaedia Iranica (EIr), vol. II, 845–846. ——— (1988) ‘Bahā’ al-Dīn Āmilī’, Encyclopaedia Iranica (EIr), vol. III, 429–430. ——— (1989) ‘Āmolī, Sayyed Bahāʾal-Dīn Ḥaydar b. Ali b. Ḥaydar al-Obaydī al-Ḥosaynī’, Encyclopaedia Iranica (EIr), vol. I, fasc. 9, 983–985. Kurtz, Paul (1973) Humanist Manifesto, 2 vols., Buffalo, NY: Prometheus Books. Kutubi, Eiyad S. (2014) Mulla Sadra and Eschatology: Evolution of Being, London: Routledge. Laertius, Diogenes (1955) Lives of Eminent Philosophy, vol. II, Loeb Classical Library, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Lakzā’ī, Najaf (1381 Sh) Andīshe-yi Sīyāsī-yi Ṣadr al-Muta’lihīn, Qum: Bustan-e Kitāb Press. Lambton, Ann K. S. (1981) State and Government in Medieval Islam, London: Routledge. Landolt, Hermann (1987) ‘Walaya’, in Mircea Eliade (ed.) Encyclopedia of Religion (ER), vol. 15, New York: Macmillan, 316–323.

Bibliography  229 ——— (1999) ‘Henry Corbin, 1903–1978: Between Philosophy and Orientalism’, Journal of American Oriental Society (JAOS), vol. 119, no. 3, 484–490. Laoust, M. Henri (1939) Doctrines Sociales et Politiques d’lbn Taimlya, Cairo: Institut Frangais d’Archeologie Orientale. Leaman, Oliver (1980) ‘Ibn Bajja on Society and Philosophy’, Der Islam (DI), vol. 57, no. 1, 109–119. ——— (1988) Averroes and His Philosophy, Richmond: Curzon. ——— (2000) ‘Mulla Sadra: Perception and Knowledge by Presence’, Transcendent ­Philosophy, vol. 1, no. 1. ——— (2008) The Qur’an: An Encyclopedia, London: Routledge. ——— (2009) Islamic Philosophy: An Introduction, Cambridge: Polity Press. ——— (ed.) (2015) The Biographical Encyclopedia of Islamic Philosophy, London: Bloomsbury Academic. Lerner, Ralph and Mahdi, Muhsin (1963) Medieval Political Philosophy, New York: Free Press of Glencoe. Levitas, Ruth (1990) The Concept of Utopia, London: Allan. Lewis, Bernard (ed. and tr.) (1974) Islam from the Prophet Muhammad to the Capture of Constantinople, Volume II: Religion and Society, New York: Harper & Row. ——— (1988) The Political Language of Islam, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Lewisohn, L. and Morgan, D. (eds.) (1999a) The Safavid & Mughal Period, Oxford: Oneworld Publications. ——— (1999b) ‘Sufism and the School of Isfahan: Tasawwuf and ‘Irfan in Late Safavid Iran (‘Abd al-Razzāq Lahījī and Fayd-i Kashani on the Relation of Tasawwuf, ­Hikmat and ‘Irfan’, in L. Lewisohn and D. Morgan (eds.) The Heritage of Sufism, Vol. 3: Late ­Classical Persianate Sufism: The Safavid and Mughal Period, Oxford: Oneworld ­Publications, 63–134. Locke, John (1995) An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, New York: Prometheus Book. Lovejoy, A. D. (1936) The Great Chain of Being: A Study of the History of an Idea, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Luft, P. (1954–2004) ‘Musha “sha” ’, Encyclopedia of Islam (EI), vol. 7, 672–675. Lyman Tower, Sargent (2010)  Utopianism: A Very Short Introduction, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Mackie, John Leslie (1979) Value and Existence, Totowa, NJ: Rowman & Littlefield. ——— (1998) ‘The Subjectivity of Values’, in J Rachels (ed.) Ethical Theory, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Madelung, Wilfred (1979) ‘Abd-al-Razzāq Lāhījī’, in E. Yarshater (ed.) Encyclopaedia Iranica (EIr), I gen. New York: Eilers, Wilhelm and U. Schapka. ——— (1997) The Succession to Muhammad: A Study of the Early Caliphate, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mahdi, Muhsin (2001) Alfarabi and the Foundation of Islamic Political Philosophy, foreword Charles E. Butterworth, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Manuel, Frank E. and Fritzie, P. (1979) Utopian Thought in the Western World, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Marlow, Louise (1987) Theories of Social Stratification in Islamic Literature until the End of the Mongol Period, unpublished PhD dissertation, Princeton University Press.

230  Bibliography ——— (1995) ‘Kings, Prophets and the “Ulamā” in Mediaeval Islamic Advice Literature’, Studia Islamica (SI), vol. 81, 101–120. ——— (2002) Hierarchy and Egalitarianism in Islamic Thought, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Marmura, Michael E. (1960) ‘Avicenna and the Problem of the Infinite Number of Souls’, Mediaeval Studies (MS), vol. 22, no. 1, 232–239. ——— (1986) ‘Avicenna’s “Flying Man” in Context’, The Monist, no. 69, 383–395. ——— (2000) Creating an Islamic State: Khomeini and the Making of a New Iran, London: I. B. Tauris. ——— (2005) Probing in Islamic Philosophy: Studies in the Philosophies of Ibn Sīnā, al-Ghazālī and Other Major Muslim Thinkers, Binghamton, NY: Global Academic Publishing. Martin, Richard C. (ed.) (2004) Encyclopedia of Islam and the Muslim World (EIMW), vol. I–II, Hartford, CN: Palgrave Macmillan. Martin, Vanessa (1984) ‘The Metaphysics of Efficient Causality in Avicenna (Ibn Sina)’, in F. Hourani and M. E. Marmura (eds.) Islamic Theology and Philosophy: Studies in Honor of George, Albany: SUNY Press, 172–187. Marwan, Rashed (2009) ‘On the Authorship of the Treatise on the Harmonization of the Opinions of the Two Sages Attributed to al-Fārābī’, Arabic Sciences and Philosophy (ASPh), vol. 19, no. 1, 43–82. Matthee, Rudi (1999) The Politics of Trade in Safavid Iran: Silk for Silver, 1600–1730, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ——— (2010) ‘Was Safavid Iran an Empire?’ Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient, Empires and Emporia: The Orient in World Historical Space and Time, vol. 53, no. 1–2, 233–265. Mavani, Hamid (2013) Religious Authority and Political Thought in Twelver Shi‘ism: From Ali to Khomeini, London: Routledge. Mazzaoui, Michel (ed.) (1972) The Origins of the Safawids, Shi‘ism, Sufism, and the ­Ghulat, vol. 3, Wiesbaden: Freiburger Islamstudien. ——— (2003) Safavid Iran and Her Neighbors, Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. McKeon, Richard (ed.) (1947) Introduction to Aristotle, New York: McGraw Hill. Meisami, Sayeh (2018) Knowledge and Power in the Philosophies of Ḥamīd al-Dīn Kirmānī and Mullā Ṣadrā, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan. Melemed, Abraham (2003) Philosopher-King in Medieval and Renaissance Jewish Political Thought, ed. and foreword, Lenn E. Goodman, Albany: SUNY Press. Melville, Charles and Mitchell, Lynette (eds.) (2013) Every Inch a King: Kings and ­Kingship in the Ancient and Medieval Worlds’, Boston: Brill. Messeri, Abdel Wahab (EL) (2007) ‘Everything You Wanted to Know About Islam But Was Afraid to Ask’, Philosophia Islamica (PhI), episode 21, Ibn Rushd. Mikhail, H. (1995) Politics and Revelation: Mawardi and After, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Miller Jr., Fred D. (1995) Nature, Justice, and Rights in Aristotle’s Politics, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Mirsepassi, Ali (2011) Political Islam, Iran, and the Enlightenment: Philosophies of Hope and Despair, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mitchell, Colin P. (2009) The Practice of Politics in Safavid Iran; Power, Religion and Rhetoric, London: I. B. Tauris Publishers. Mohaghegh, M. and Izutsu, T. (trs.) (1983) Sharḥ Ghurar al-Farā’id Ma‘rūf bi Sharḥ Manzūma-yi Ḥikmat, qism umūr ‘āmma wa jawhar wa a‘rāḍ, Tehran: McGill Institute of Islamic Studies.

Bibliography  231 More, Henry (1659) The Immortality of the Soul, So Farre Forth as It Is Demonstrable from the Knowledge of Nature and the Light of Reason, London: printed by J. Flesher, for William Morden. More, Thomas (2005) Utopia, San Diego: Icon Classics. Morewedge, Parviz (1992) The Metaphysics of Mulla Sadra, tr. al-Kitāb al-Mashā‘ir, Tehran: Seperh Press, New York: SSIPS. Moris, Megawati (2003) Mullā Ṣadrā’s Doctrine of the Primacy of Existence (aṣālat al-wujūd), Kuala Lumpur: ISTAC. Moris, Zailan (2003) Revelation, Intellectual Intuition and Reason in the Philosophy of Mulla Sadra; An Analysis of the al-Hikmah al-‘Arshiyya, London: Routledge Curzon. Morris, James W. (1981) The Wisdom of the Throne, tr. of Mulla Sadra’s al-Ḥikmat al‘Arshiyya, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. ——— (1992) ‘The Philosopher-Prophet in Avicenna’s Philosophy’, in Charles E. Butterworth (ed.) The Political Aspects of Islamic Philosophy: Essays in Honor of Muhsin S. Mahdi, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 181–183. ——— (2001) ‘Ibn ʻArabi’s Messianic Secret: From “the Mahdi” to the Imamate of Every Soul’, Journal of the Muhyiddin Ibn ‘Arabi Society (JMIAS), vol. 30, 1–18. ——— (2002) Ibn ‘Arabī: The Meccan Revelations, co-author with W. Chittick, New York: Pir Press. ——— (2004) Orientation, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Moṣṭafavī, Hasan (2010) ‘A Problem in Avicenna’s View on the Origination of the Soul and a Reply to It’, Sophia Perennis (SoP), vol. 2, no. 4, 19–29. Mudarres Zinūzī, Aqā Ali (1368 Sh) Badāyi‘ al-Ḥikam, ed. Ahmad Vā‘zī, Tehran: Mu’assisi-yi Allama Ṭabāṭabā’ī. ——— (1378 Sh) Majmū‘a Muṣanifāt-i Ḥakīm-i Mu’assis, ed. Muḥsen Kadīvar, Tehran: Intishārāt-i Iṭilā‘t. Muehlethaler, Lukas (2012) ‘Revising Avicenna’s Ontology of the Soul: Ibn Kammūna on the Soul’s Eternity a Parte Ante’, The Muslim World (MW), 597–616. Muhājir, Muḥsin (1999) ‘Mullā Ṣadrā’s Political Philosophy’, World Congress on Mullā Ṣadrā (WCM), vol. II, 351–365. Munfared Farhānī, Mahdī (1377 Sh) Muhājerat ‘Ulamā-i Shi‘a az Jabal Āmil be Iran dar ‘Aṣr-i Safavi, Tehran: Nashr Amir Kabeer. Muqtedar Khan, M. A. (2019) Islam and Good Governance: A Political Philosophy of Ihsan, New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Murata, Sachiko (1992) The Tao of Islam, Albany: SUNY Press. Mūsawī Bihbahānī, S. (1370 Sh/1991) Ḥakīm-i Astarābād, Tehran: University of Tehran. Mutahharī, Murtaḍā (2001) ‘Adl-i Ilāhī, Tehran: Sadra Publications. Muzzafar, Mouhammad Husayn (2000) al-Imam al-Ṣādiq, Qum: Intishārāt Ṣadr. Nabavi, Negin (2003) Intellectuals and the State in Iran: Politics, Discourse, and the Dilemmas of Authenticity, Gainesville, FL: University Press of Florida. Nāhīd Bāqirī Khurramdashtī with the assistance of Fāṭima Aṣgharī (1378 Sh/1999) Kitābshināsī-yi Jāmi‘-i Mullā Ṣadrā, Tehran: Bonyād-i Hikmat Ṣadrā. Nanji, Azim (2008) ‘Isma‘ilism’, in S. H. Nasr (ed.) Islamic Spirituality, London: Routledge, 339–372. Nasr, Seyyed Hossein (1997) Ṣadr al-Dīn Shirazi and His Transcendent Theosophy, Background, Life and Works, Tehran: Institute for Humanities and Cultural Studies.

232  Bibliography Nasr, Seyyed Hossein and Leaman, O. (eds.) (1375 Sh) ‘Mullā Ṣadrā: His Teachings’, in H. Nasr and O. Leaman (eds.) A History of Islamic Philosophy, 2 vols., Tehran: Arayeh Cultural Institute, 643–662. ——— (1995) ‘Ṣadra al-Dīn Shirazi, (Mulla Sadra)’ in M. M. Sharif (ed.) A History of Muslim Philosophy. 2 vols, Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, II, 932–960. ——— (1967) ‘The Sufi Master as Exemplified in Persian Sufi Literature’, Iran (Ir), vol. 5, 35–45, British Institute of Persian Studies. ——— (1970) ‘Shi’ism and Sufism: Their Relationship in Essence and in History’, ­Religious Studies (RS), 229–242. ——— (1973) ‘The Meaning and Role of Philosophy in Islam’, Studia Islamica (SI), no. 37, 57–80. ——— (1986) ‘Spiritual Movements, Philosophy and Theology in the Safavid Period’, in Peter Jackson and Laurence Lockhart (eds.) The Cambridge History of Iran, 8 vols., vol. VI, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 656–697. ——— (1988) ‘The Interior Life in Islam’, al-Ṣerāt: A Journal of Islamic Studies (ṢJIS), vol. 3, no. 2–3, 83–91, London: Muhammadi Trust. ——— (1996a) History of Islamic Philosophy, 2 vols., London: Routledge. ——— (1996b) The Islamic Intellectual Traditional in Persia, ed. M. Amin Razavi, Richmond: Curzon. ——— (1997) Three Muslim Sages, New York: Caravan Books. ——— (1998) Knowledge and the Sacred: Revisioning Academic Accountability, Albany: SUNY Press. ——— (1999a) Ideals and Realities of Islam, Chicago: Kazi Publication. ——— (1999b) ‘The Place of Isfahan in Islamic Philosophy and Sufism’, in L. Lewisohn and D. Morgan (eds.) The Heritage of Sufism Vol. III: Late Classical Persianate Sufism (1501–1750) The Safavid & Mughal Period, London: Oneworld publications, 3–15. ——— (2005) ‘Theoretical Gnosis and Doctrinal Sufism and Their Significance Today’, Journal of Transcendent Philosophy (JTPh), vol. VI, 1–36, London: Institute of Islamic Studies. ——— (2006) Islamic Philosophy from Its Origin to the Present: Philosophy in the Land of Prophecy, Albany: SUNY Press. Nasr, Seyyed Hossein, Leaman, O., Dabashi, Hamid and Nasr, Seyyed Vali Reza (1988) Shiʻism: Doctrines, Thought, and Spirituality, Albany: SUNY Press. ——— (2014) Metaphysical Penetrations: A Parallel English-Arabic Text, ed. Ibrahim Kalin and tr. al-Ḥikmat al-‘Arshiyya, Provo, Utah: Brigham Young University Press. Nawbakht, Ibrāhīm (n.d.) al-Anwār al-Malakūt fī Sharh al-Yaqūt, commentary of Allāma Ḥillī, Qum: Rāzī and Intishārāt-i Bīdār. Netton, Ian Richard (1982) Muslim Neoplatonists: An Introduction to the Thought of the Brethren of Purity, Ikhwan al-Safa, London and Boston: G. Allen & Unwin. ——— (1998) al-Farabi, Abu Nasr, London: Routledge. Newman, Andrew J. (1986) ‘Towards a Reconsideration of the “Isfahān School of Philosophy”: Shaykh Bahāʾī and the Role of the Safawid ʿulamā’, Studia Iranica (Sir), vol. 15, 165–166. ——— (1992) ‘The Nature of the Akhbari/Uṣūli Dispute in Late-Safawid Iran. Part Two: The Conflict Reassessed’, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies (BSOAS), vol. 55, no. ii, 250–261.

Bibliography  233 ——— (1993a) ‘The Myth of the Clerical Migration to Safawid Iran: Arab Shiite Opposition to ʿAlī al-Karakī and Safawid Shi‘ism’, Die Welt des Islams, (DWI), vol. 33, no. 1, 78–112. ——— (1993b) ‘Mir Damad’, Encyclopaedia Iranica (EIr), vol. 6, 623–626. ——— (1996a) ‘Jalal al-Dīn Davani’, Encyclopaedia Iranica (EIr), vol. 7, 132–133. ——— (1996b) ‘Ghiyas-al-Dīn Dashtaki’, Encyclopaedia Iranica (EIr), vol. 7, 100–102. ——— (1999a) ‘The Legacy of Mullā Ṣadrā in the Writings of Western Scholars in Iranian and Shīʿī Studies: Use or Abuse?’ Mulla Sadra and Transcendent Philosophy: IslamWest Philosophical Dialogue (MSIWD), vol. 1, Tehran: SIPRIn Publications, 193–206. ——— (1999b) ‘Sufism and Anti-Sufism in Safavid Iran: The Authorship of the Hadiqat al-Shi‘a Revisited’, Iran, vol. 37, 95–108. ——— (2001) ‘Fayḍ al-Kashani and the Rejection of the Clergy/State Alliance: Friday Prayer as Politics in the Safavid Period’, in Linda Walbridge (ed.) The Most Learned of the Shi‘a: The Institution of the Marjac Taqlid, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 34–52. ——— (2003) ‘Baqir al-Majlisi and Islamicate Medicine: Safavid Medical Theory and Practice Re-Examined’, in Andrew J. Newman (ed.) Society and Culture in the Early Modern Middle East, Studies on Iran in the Safavid Period, Leiden: Brill, 371–396. ——— (2006) Safavid Iran: Rebirth of a Persian Empire, London and New York: I. B. Tauris. ——— (2012) ‘The Recovery of the Past: Ibn Babawayh, Baqir al-Majlisi and Safavid Medical Discourse’, Iran: Journal of the British Institute of Persian Studies, vol. 50, 109–127. Nicholson, Reynold A. (1984) Sufi Doctrine of the Perfect Man, UK: Holmes Publishing Group. Olivier, Carré (2003) Mysticism and Politics: A Critical Reading of Fi Zilal al-Qur’an by Sayyid Qutb (1906–1966), tr. Carol Artigues, Leiden. Olivier, Roy (2007) Secularism confronts Islam, tr. George Holoch, Columbia: Columbia University Press. Palencia, A. Gonzalez (1953) Al-Farabi Catdlogo de las Ciencias, Madrid. Parens, Joshua (1995)  Metaphysics as Rhetoric: Alfarabi’s Summary of Plato’s ‘Laws’, Albany: SUNY Press. ——— (2006) An Islamic philosophy of virtuous religions: introducing Alfarabi, State University of New York Press, Albany. Pazoukī, Shahrām (2007) ‘From Aristotle’s Ousia to Ibn Sina’s Jawhar’, in Ch. Kanzian and M. Legenhausen (eds.) Substance and Attribute Western and Islamic Traditions in Dialogue (SAWITD), vol. 5, Frankfurt: Ontos Verlag, 163–171. Peerwani, Latimah-Parvin (2004) On Hermeneutics of the Light Verse of the Qur’an, translation of Arabic text Sūrat al-Nūr of the Qur’an by Mulla Sadra, London: ICAS Press. ——— (2008) Spiritual Psychology; The Fourth Intellectual Journey in Transcendent Philosophy, translation of 8–9 vols. of al-Asfār by Mullā Ṣadrā, forworded by S. Khalil Toussi, London: ICAS Press. ——— (2013) ‘Man the Image of God according to Meister Eckhart and Mulla Sadra’, in Ali Paya (ed.) The Mistry land of Ideas and the Light of Dialogue, London: ICAS Press, 335–358. Perkinson, James W. (2015) Political Spirituality in an Age of Eco-apocalypse: Essays in Communication and Struggle Across Species, Cultures, and Religions, London: ­Palgrave Macmillan. Petrushevsky, I. P. (1985) Islam in Iran, tr. H. Evans, London: Athlone Press.

234  Bibliography Popper, Karl (1963) ‘Plato as Enemy of the Open Society’, in Thomas L. Thorson and Englewood Cliffs (eds.) Plato: Totalitarian or Democrat? Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 41–102. ——— (1971) The Open Society and Its Enemies, Volume I: The Spell of Plato, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. ——— (2002) The Poverty of Historicism, London: Routledge. Pourjavady, N. (1378 Sh) ‘Ḥallāj va Bāyazīd Basṭāmī az Nazar-i Mulla Sadra’, Nashr-i Dānesh, no. 3, 14–24. ——— (1999) ‘Opposition to Sufism in Twelver Shi‘ism’, in F. de Jong and B. Radtke (eds.) Islamic Mysticism Contested: Thirteen Centuries of Controversies and Polemics, Leiden: Brill, 614–624. Qāderī, Ḥātam (2000) Andīshe-yi Sīyāsī dar Qarn-i Bīstum, Tehran: Samt Press. Qazvīnī, Mīrzā Muhammd Ṭāhir (2003) Tārīkh-i ‘Ālam-Ārā-yi ‘Abbāsī, vol. 1, Tehran: n.p. Qazwini, Jawdat (1412) ‘al-Ḥarakat al-Akhbāriyya wa Ḥaqīqat al-Sirā’ al-Uṣūlī’, al-Fikr al-Jadīd, vol. I, 83–92. Qummī, Abu al-Hasan Ali b. Ibrahim (1966) Tafsīr al-Qummī, ed. al-Tayyib al-Musawī al-Jazā’irī. Najaf, vol. 1, Iraq: n.p. Qummī, Qāḍī Sa‘īd (1373–8 Sh) Sharḥ Tawḥīd al-Ṣadūq, ed. Najafqulī Ḥabībī, 3 vols., Tehran: Wizārat al-Thaqāfa wa al-Irshād al-Islami. Qurayshī, S. Ali Akbar (1982) Qāmūs al-Qur’an, Tehran: Dār al-Kutub al-Islamiyya. Qurbānī, Qudratullah (1384 Sh) ‘Falsafe-yi Imamat dar Andīshe-yi Mullā Ṣadrā va Imam Khomainī’, Ḥuḍūr (Ḥu), no. 54, 59–73. Qutb, Sayyid (1990) Fi Zilāl al-Qur’an, 6 vols., Beirut: Dār al-Shurūq. Rachels, James (ed.) (1998) Ethical Theory, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rafi, Mohammad (2013) ‘Re-Working the Philosophy of Martin Heidegger: Iran’s Revolution of 1979 and Its Quest for Cultural Authenticity’, presented at the Seventh Annual Telos Conference, New York, February 15–17. Rahman, Fazlur (ed.) (1952) Avicenna’s Psychology: An English Translation of Kitāb al-Najāt, Book II, Chapter VI, London: Oxford University Press. ——— (1958) Prophecy in Islam, London. ——— (1959) Avicenna’s De Anima, Oxford: Oxford University Press. ——— (1975) The Philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā, Albany: SUNY Press. Raitiere, Martin N. (1973) ‘More’s Utopia and the City of God’, Studies in the Renaissance (SR) vol. 20, 144–168, University of Chicago Press. Rashīd Riḍā,  Muhammad (1947–54)  Tafsīr al-Qur’an al-Ḥakīm: al-Shahīr bi-Tafsīr al-Manār, 12 vols., Cairo: Dār al-Minār. Rasūlī, R., Jamshīdī Rād, M. and Khodravān, H. (1392 Sh) ‘Insān Shenāsī-yi Ṣadrā’ī va Nehḍat Imam Khomainī’, Ilāhiyyat va ‘Ulūm Islami (IUI), no. 1, 31–42. Rawls, John (1971) A Theory of Justice, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Rayshahrī, Muhammad (1995) Mizān al-Ḥikmah, 14 vols., Qum: Dār al-Hadith. Rebhorn, Wayne A. (ed.) (2005) ‘Introduction’, in Utopia, Classics, New York: Barnes & Noble. Ridgeon, Lloyd (2014) ‘Hidden Khomeini’, in Arshin Adib-Moghaddam (ed.) A Critical Introduction to Khomeini, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 193–210. Rippin, Andrew (1988) Approaches to the History of the Interpretation of the Qur’an, Oxford: Clarendon Press. ——— ‘Mollā Ṣadrā Shrazi, Encyclopaedia Iranica, EIr. [available online at http://www. iranica.com]

Bibliography  235 Rizvi, Sajjad H. (1999) ‘An Islamic Subversion of the Existence-Essence Distinction? Suhrawardi’s Visionary Hierarchy of Lights’,  Asian Philosophy (APh), vol. 9, no. 3, 219–227. ——— (2007) Mullā Ṣadrā: His Life and Works and the Sources for Safavid Philosophy, Oxford: Oxford University Press. ——— (2009a) Mulla Sadra and Metaphysics: Modulation of Being, London: Routledge. ——— (2009b)  ‘Mulla Sadra’, in Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (SEPh), https:// plato.stanford.edu/entries/mulla-sadra/. ——— (2012) ‘Philosophy as a Way of Life in the World of Islam: Applying Hadot to the Study of Mullā Ṣadrā Shīrāzī’, Bulletin of School of Oriental and African Studies (BSOAS), vol. 75, no. 1, 33–45. ——— (2013) Mulla Sadra and the Later Islamic Philosophical Tradition, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Roemer, Hans R. (1994) ‘The Qizilbash Turcomans: Founders and Victims of the Safavid Theocracy’, in Michel M. Mazzaoui and Vera B. Moreen (eds.) Intellectual Studies on Islam: Essays Written in Honor of Martin B. Dickson, Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 27–39. Rofagha, Nader (2006) An Investigation of the Mathematical and Pedagogical ­Contribution of Baha al-Din Muhammad Ibn Husayn Amili (aka Sheikh Bahai), a ­Sixteenth Century Middle Eastern Teacher and Scholar, New York: Columbia University Press. Rosenthal, Erwin I. J. (ed. and tr.) (1956) Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ——— (1962) Political Thought in Medieval Islam: An Introductory Outline, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rosenthal, Franz (1989) The History of al-Tabari, 38 vols., Albany. ——— (2007) Knowledge of Triumphant: The Concept of Knowledge in Medieval Islam, Leiden: Brill. Romer H.R. (1989) ‘The Safavid Period’, in Cambridge History of Iran,  vol. VI, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 190–350. Rustom, Mohammed (2012) The Triumph of Mercy: Philosophy and Scripture in Mullā Ṣadrā, Albany: SUNY Press. Ryan, Sharon (2012) ‘Wisdom, Knowledge, and Rationality’, Acta Analytica (AcA), no. 27, 99–112. Ṣadrī, Mahmoud (2001) ‘Sacral Defense of Secularism: Dissident Political Theology in Iran’, International Journal of Politics, Culture and Society, vol. 15, no. 2, 257–258. Ṣafā, Zabīhullāh (1362 Sh) Tārīkh-i Adabiyyāt dar Iran, 9 vols., Tehran: Shirkate Mu’alefān va Mutarjemān. Ṣalibā, Jamīl (1994) al-Mu‘jam al-Falsafī, 2 vols., Beirut: al-Shirkat al-Ālamiyya lil Kitāb. Samāhījī, Abdallah (1992) ‘Munyat al-Mumārisīn’, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies (BSOAS), vol. I, 22–51. Savory, Roger (1977) ‘Safavid Persia’, in Ann Katherine Swynford Lambton, Peter Malcolm Holt and Bernard Lewis (eds.) The Cambridge History of Islam, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ——— (1986) ‘The Safavid Administrative System’, in The Cambridge History of Iran, vol. VI, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 351–372. ——— (1994) ‘The Shi‘i Enclaves in the Deccan (15th–17th Centuries: An Historical Anomaly’, in Emmet Robbins and Stella Sandahl (eds.) Corolla Torontonensis: Studies in Honor of Ronald Morton Smith, Toronto: TSAR.

236  Bibliography ——— (2007) Iran Under the Safavids, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ——— (2009) Safavids, Encyclopedia of Islam (EI), eds. P. Bearman and Others, 2nd edition, Leiden: Brill. Sayre-McCord, Geoffrey (ed.) (1988) Essays on Moral Realism, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Schmidtz, David and Thrasher, John (2014) ‘The Virtues of Justice’, in K. Timpe and C. Boyd (eds.) Virtues and Their Vices, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Schofield, Malcolm (2006) Plato: Political Philosophy, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Scott, Gregory M. (1997) Political Science: Foundation for a Fifth Millenniu, Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall. Sedley, D. (1999) ‘The Ideal of Godlikeness’, in G. Fine (ed.) Plato 2: Ethics, Politics, Religion, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 309–328. Shah Kezemi, Reza (tr.) (2001) Doctrines of Shi‘i Islam by Ja‘far Sobhānī, London: I. B. Tauris. Sharīf, Mīr Muhammad (1995) A History of Muslim Philosophy, 2 vols., New Delhi: Low Price Publications. Shātibī, Ibrahim (1341) al-Muwāfiqat fī Uṣūl al-Aḥkām, 4 vols., Cairo: n.p. Shaw, Georgy (1995) Theurgy and the Soul: The Neoplatonism of Iamblichus, University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press. Shaybī, Kāmil Muṣṭafā (1380 Sh) Tashayyu’ wa Tasawwuf, Persian tr. Ali Ridā Dhakawatī Qaragozlū, Tehran: Intishārāt-i Amīr Kabeer. Sherif, Mohamed Ahmed (1975) Ghazali’s Theory of Virtue, Albany: SUNY Press. Shihadeh, Ayman (2012) ‘Aspects of the Reception of Avicenna’s Theory of Prophecy in Islamic Theology’, in R. E. Houser (ed.) Proceedings of the American Catholic P ­ hilosophical Association, vol. 86, Houston, TX: Philosophy Documentation Center, 23–32. Shirazi, Ma‘sūm ‘Ali-Shāh (1339 Sh) Tarā’iq al-Ḥaqā’iq, ed. M. J. Mahjub, 3 vols., Tehran: n.p. Shukrī, Yadullah (ed.) (1350 Sh) ‘Ālam Ārā’ Safavi, Tehran: Intishārāt Bunyād Farhang Iran. Sider, David (1977) ‘The Apolitical life: Plato, Hippias Maior, 281c’, L’Antiquité Classique, t. 46, fasc. 1, 180–183. Soler, Andreas (2015) ‘Neoplatonist Philosophy, Influence of’ in O Leaman (ed.) The Biographical Encyclopedia of Islamic Philosophy, London: Bloomsbury Academic, 371–373. Solihu, Abdul Kabir Hussain (2008) ‘Spiritual Ascent in Buddhism, Christianity and Islam: A Study in Comparative Mysticism’, Journal of Transcendent Philosophy (JTPh), 151– 182, London. Sonn, Tamara (1991) ‘Fazlur Rahman’s Islamic Methodology’, The Muslim World (MW), vol. LXXXI, no. 3–4, 212–230, Hartford, CN. Sorush, Abd al-Karim (1376 Sh) Religion and Policies, n.p. Soudavar, Abolala (2003) The Aura of Kings: Legitimacy and Divine Sanction in Iranian Kingship, Costa Mesa, CA: Mazda Publishers. Spuler, Bertold (1955) ‘Iran: The Persistent Heritage’, in Gustave E. von Grunebaum (ed.) Unity and Variety in Muslim Civilization, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Stanfield-Johnson, Rosemary (2004) ‘The Tabarra’iyan and the Early Safavids’, Iranian Studies (IrS), vol. 37, no. 1, 47–71. Stewart, Devin (1996) ‘The First Shaykh al-Islam of the Safavid Capital Qazvin’, Journal of the American Oriental Society (JAOS), vol. 116, no. 3, 387–405.

Bibliography  237 ——— (1998) ‘The Lost Biography of Baha’i al-Dīn al-Āmilī and the Reign of Shah Ismā‘īl II in Safavid Historiography’, Journal of the American Oriental Society (JAOS), vol. 31, 177–205. ——— (2003) ‘The Genesis of the Akhbārī Revival’, in M. Mazzaoui (ed.) Safavid Iran and Her Neighbors, Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. Stroumsa, Sarah (1985) ‘The Signs of Prophecy: The Emergence and Early Development of a Theme in Arabic Theological Literature’, The Harvard Theological Review (HTR), vol. 78, no. 1–2, 101–114. Swinburne, Richard (1986) The Evolution of the Soul, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Szpiech, Ryan (2010) ‘In Search of Ibn Sina’s Oriental Philosophy in Medieval Castile’, Arabic Sciences and Philosophy (ASPh), vol. 20, no. 2, 185–206. Ṭabāṭabā’ī, Javād (1382 Sh) Darāmadī Falsafī bar Tārīkh Andish-yi Siyāsī dar Iarn, Tehran: Daftar Nashr Farhang Islami. ——— (1383 Sh) Zavāl Andīshe-yi Sīyāsī dar Iran (Decline of Political Thought in Iran), Tehran: Kadivar Publication. Tabātabā’ī, Muhammad Hussein (1417) al-Mīzān fī Tafsīr al-Qur’an, 20 vols., Qum: Daftar Intishārāt Islami. ——— (1979) Shi‘ite Islam, tr. S. H. Nasr, Albany, NY: SUNY Press. ——— (1981) Shi‘ite Anthology, ed. and annot. S. H. Nasr and tr. William Chittick, London: Muhammadi Trust. ——— (2009) The Return to Being: A Translation of Risalat al-Walaya, trs. M. Dasht Bozorgi and F. Asadi Amjad, intro. and annot. S. K. Toussi, London: ICAS Press. Taylor, Richard C. (2012) ‘Averroes on the Ontology of the Human Soul’,  The Muslim World (MW), no. 102, 580–596. Tavakoli-Targhi, Mohamad (1996) ‘Contested Memories: Narrative Structures and Allegorical Meanings of Iran’s Pre-Islamic History, Iranian Studies (IrS), vol. 29, no. 1/2, pp. 149–175. Tegtmeier, Erwin (2007) ‘Ibn Sina on Substances and Accidents’, in Ch. Kanzian and M. Legenhausen (eds.) Substance and Attribute Western and Islamic Traditions in Dialogue (SAWITD), vol. 5, Frankfurt: Ontos Verlag, 229–236. Thavāqib, Jahānbāsh (1392 Sh) ‘Farāyand-i Taḥavvol Maktab Akhbārī va Uṣūlī’, Nameyeh Tarīkh Islam (NTI), no. 9, 35–79. Thomas Weber, Eric (2010) Rawls, Dewey and Constructivism: On the Epistemology of Justice, London: Continuum. Thubūt, Akbar (n.d.) Didgāh Akhūnd Khorasānī va Shāgerdānash, forthcoming publication, Manuscript. Toussi, S. Khalil (1387 Sh/2008) ‘Falsafe Siyāsi Mullā Ṣadrā va Martin Heidegger’; Taḥlīlī Insānshenasāneh (An Anthropological Analyse of Political Philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā and Martin Heidegger)’, The Journal of Political Sciences (in Persian), no. 43, 16–43. ——— (1391 Sh) Darāmadī bar Falsafe-yi Sīyāsī Ṣadr al-Muta’ahilīn (An Introduction to Political Philosophy of Ṣadr al-Muta’ahilīn), Qum: Pajūheshgāh ‘Ulūm va Andishe-yi Islami. ——— (2008) ‘The Concept of Love in Transcendent Philosophy: A Comparison Between Mulla Sadra and Plato’, Journal of Shi‘a Islamic Studies (JSIS), vol. 1, no. 3, 16–39. Turam, Berna (2004) ‘The Politics of Engagement Between Islam and the Secular State: Ambivalences of Civil Society’, The British Journal of Sociology (BJS), vol. LV, no. 2, 259–281. Turner, Colin (2002) Islam Without Allah? The Rise of Religious Externalism in Safavid Iran, Richmond: Curzon.

238  Bibliography Turner, Denys (1994) The Darkness of God, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Vahdat, Farzin (2002) God and Juggernaut: Iran’s Intellectual Encounter with Modernity, Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press. Van Ess, Josef (1998) ‘Ḥaydar Āmulī, Bahā’al-Dīn Ḥaydar b. ʿAlī b. Ḥaydar al-ʿUbaydī (719/1319 or 720/1320 – after 787/1385)’, Encyclopedia of Islam (EI), Brill, Online. Vlastos, G. (1977) ‘The Theory of Social Justice in the Polis in Plato’s Republic’, in Helen North (ed.) Interpretations of Plato: A Swarthmore Symposium, Leiden: Brill. Voegelin, Eric (2000) Plato, Columbia: University of Missouri Press. Walbridge, John (2000) The Leaven of the Ancients: Suhrawardi and the Heritage of the Greeks, Albany: State University of New York Press. Walker, Paul E. (1992) ‘The Political Implications of al-Razi’s Philosophy’, in C. ­Butterworth (ed.) The Political Aspects of Islamic Philosophy, Cambridge, MA: ­Harvard University Press, 61–94. Walzer, Richard (1957) ‘Al-Fārābī’s Theory of Prophecy and Divination’, The Journal of Hellenic Studies, 142–148. ——— (1962) Greek into Arabic; Essays on Islamic Philosophy, Cambridge, MA: ­Harvard University Press. ——— (1985) Al-Farabi on the Perfect State: Abu Nasr al-Farabi’s Mabadi’ Ara Ahl ­al-Madina al-Fadila, Al-Farabi, translation of al-Farabi’s al-Madina al-Fadila (The Virtuous City), Oxford: Clarendon Press. Waugh, Earle H. and M. Denny, Frederick (eds.) (1998)  The Shaping of an American Islamic Discourse: A Memorial to Fazlur Rahmān, Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press. Weber, Max (1978) Economy and Society, eds. G. Roth and C. Wittich, Berkeley: University of California Press. Wilber, Ken (2001) A Theory of Everything: An Integral Vision for Business, Politics, ­Science and Spirituality, Boston: Shambhah Publication. Williams, Bernard (1973) ‘The Analogy of Soul and State in Plato’s Republic’, in E. N.Lee, A. P. D. Mourelatos and R. M. Rorty (eds.) Exegesis and Argument, New York: Humanities Press, 196–206. Woodward, Martin (1997) Defenders of Reason in Islam, Oxford: Oneworld Publications. Yavus, Sevket (2015) ‘AL-FARABI, Abu Nasr (c. 258–c. 339/c. 871–c. 950)’ in O Leaman (ed.) The Biographical Encyclopedia of Islamic Philosophy, London: Bloomsbury Academic. Yazdī, Abbās (1380 Sh) Rāz-i Jāvedānegī, Iran-Zanjan: Mahdis Press. Zarrīnkūb, Abdulhusayn (1353 Sh) Arzesh Mīrāth-i Sufiyya, Tehran: Amīr Kabeer. Zheltov, Viktor Vasilievich (2015) ‘Islamic Philosophy and Politics (The Experience of Interpretation)’, Mediterranean Journal of Social Sciences, vol. 6, no. 6, S1, 537–545. ——— (1996) ‘Shihāb al-Dīn Yahyā Suhrawardī: founder of the Illuminationist school’  in S. H. Nasr and O. Leaman (eds.) History of Islamic Philosophy, vol II, 434–464. Ziai, Husain and John Walbridge (eds. and trs.) (1992) ‘Source and Nature of Authority: A  Study of Suhrawardi’s Illuminationist Political Doctrine’, in Ch. Butterworth (ed.) The Political Aspects of Islamic Philosophy: Essays in Honor of Muhsin S. Mahdi, ­Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press, 304–344. ——— (1999) The Philosophy of Illumination, translation of al-Ḥikmat al-Ishrāq by ­Shahab al-Dīn Yahya Suhrawardi, Salt Lake City: Brigham Young University Press. ——— (2013) ‘Mulla Sadra’, in Gerhard Bowering (ed.) The Princeton Encyclopedia of Islamic Political Thought (PEIPT), New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 378–379. Zysow, Aron (2011) ‘Karrāmiyya’, Encyclopedia Iranica (EIr), vol. XV, fasc. 6, 590–601.

Index

Abbās I, Shah (1588–1629) 22, 25, 36 Abbās II (1642–1666) 27, 32 Abd al-Rāziq, Shaykh Ali (d. 1384/1966) 102 Abd al-Ṣamad, Shaykh Husain (d. 984/1576) 28 Absolute Reality (al-Ḥaqīqat al-Maḥḍ) 69 Absolute Unicity (al-Aḥadiyyat al-Muṭlaqa) 76 Abū ʿAbd Allah Muhammad b. Karrām (d. 896) 47n103 Abu Bakr (d. 13/634) 101, 186 Abu Muslim 36, 43n23 accident (‘araḍ) 55, 63, 150, 164; accidental 24, 80, 84, 150 ‘acquired intellect’ 58 Active Intellect 67, 80, 119, 158, 178, 185, 190; Giver of Forms and 84; Rūḥ al-Amīn 178, 185; al-Ḥaqīqat al-Muhammadiyya 186 ‘active power’ (al-quwwā al-fā‘iliyya) 60 Active Source (al-Mabda’ al-Fa‘‘āl) 67 actual intellect (al-‘aql bil-fi‘l) 59, 177 actuality (fi‘liyya) 143 Afrīdun (1046–1120) 13, 173, 186 – 187, 196 agnosticism (ta‘ṭīl) n93 Akhbārīs (ahl al-ḥadīth) 10, 20, 32 – 35; Akhbārīsm 34, 47n99 Akhūnd Khorasani 108n28 al-‘Āmilī, Zayn al-Din Ibn Ali (d. 960/1558) see Shahīd al-Thānī al-‘Amrī, Muhammad Ibn ‘Othmān Ibn Sa‘īd 103 al-Aḥsā’ī, Ali Ibn Abi Jumhūr (d. after 1479) 189 ‘Alam al-Hudā, Muhammad 43n21 Alexander 58, 43n23; Alexandrian 198n20 Alexander of Aphrodisias 58 Ali Ibn Abi Ṭālib 132n16; see also Imam Ali ‘Ali-Shah, Ma‘sūm 37

Allāhverdī Khān (d. 1022/1613) 21, 27 Amir-Moezzi, Mohammad Ali 99 – 101, 105, 107 Āmulī, Bahā’i al-Din ‘Ubayd (d. 793 /1391) 37 Āmulī, Sayyid Ḥaydar (d. 787 /1385) 37, 99 annihilation in God (al-fanā’ fī Allah) 116, 128, 161 ‘annihilation in the divine Essence’ (al-fanā’ fi al-dhāt) 76 apolitical 2, 3, 11, 16, 97, 100, 104, 105, 206; quietism 3, 4; quietistic 35, 104; apoliticalism 99; see also gnostic ‘archetypal substance’ (jawhar al-mithālī) 202n102 Ardabīlī, Ahmad Ibn Muhammad (Muqaddas Ardabīlī) 39, 49 Ardabili, Shaykh Ṣafī al-Din Isḥāq (d. 735/1334) 22 Aristotle 34, 52, 58 – 60, 118, 119, 125, 137; Aristotelian 52, 56, 58, 118 ascetic practices (rīyāḍa) 54 Ash‘arites 33, 155n54 Āshtīyānī, Sayyed Jalāl al-Din (1925– 2005) 14, 15n9 Āshtiyānī, Mirzā Mahdī (d. 1356/1941) 43n19 ‘a simple reality is all things’ (baṣīṭ al-haqīqa kull al-ashyā’) 57; see also ‘unity in multiplicity’ Astarābādī Sayyid Muhammad Bāqir (d. 1040/1631) 20, 24, 26 – 27; Mīr Dāmād and 42n7 ‘aura of kingship’ (farr or Farrahi-i īzadī) 180 Authority 8, 11, 28, 31, 87, 102 – 104, 173, 179 – 180, 188, 207; proof (ḥujja) 103 and; legitimacy vii, 31, 40, 180 ‘awaiter’ (mutazirīn) 100 ‘axiarchism’ 87

240  Index al-Baghdadi, Junayd (d. 297) 24, 30, 104 Bābakān, Ardeshīr 180 Bābi vi Bahā’ al-Din Muhammad al-Āmilī 20 Bahmanyār (d. 458/1066) 42n9 barzakh viii, 6, 63, 111, 145, 182 Basra 22, 43n21 Baṣrī, Hasan (d. 110/728) 186 Bāyazīd Basṭāmī 49n142 Begum, Khair al-Nisā (Mahd-i Ulyā) 25 Benevolent (Rahmān and Mannān) 156n2 ‘best order of the universe’ (al-nizām al-aḥsan fī al-khalq) 137, 157 Bidābādī, Aqa Muhammad (d. 1198/1783) 43n19 caliphate 41, 101, 125, 187 – 188 Cambridge Platonists 4 categorical relationship (al-iḍāfa al-maqūliyya) 62 causality 204, 205 Christian 100, 208 Cicero 158 civilisation (tamadun) 121, 122 – 124 community (umma) 12, 105, 124, 125 – 126, 140, 105, 168, 196 conceptually derivative (i‘tibārī) 73 concreto 150 – 152 consensus 1, 68, 102, 152, 170 contemplation (mushāhada) 101; unveiling (mukāshifa) and 101; existential investigations (mu‘āyanāt wujūdiyya) 53 contingency (imkān) 81, 150; contingent 33, 57, 72 – 74, 142, 150 contribution to society (mushārakat al-ijtimā‘j) 168 cooperation (ta‘āwun) 121 ‘copulative existence’ (wujūd al-rabṭī) 74; existence to be related (wujūd al-rābīṭī) and 74 Corbin, Henry 3 – 5, 7, 15n10, 98 – 100 ‘correspondence’ (taṭbīq) 12, 117, 136 – 137, 143, 147, 204; of the exterior to the interior aspects of existence 117; between the human psyche, society and the ontic sphere 143, 204; see also Divine Providence Cosmology 3, 23, 114 cosmos as macrocosm (al-‘ālam al-kabīr) 143, 147, 193 Dakake, Maria 6 ‘darvīsh’ 38; ghālī Sufi 10, 19, 38

Dashtakī, Ghīyās al-Din Mansūr (d. 948/1542) 24, 40 Davānī, Jalāl al-Dīn (d. 908 /1502) 34 democracy 122, 169, 197, 208; democratic laws 148 democratic laws 148 Descartes 4 descending and ascending arcs (qaws al-ṣu‘ūd wa al-nuzūl) 68 Dhu al-Qadar 25 discursive analytical philosophy (ḥikmat al-baḥthī) 1 disunion (tafarruq) 144; dissension (tafraqah) and 144 ‘divine glory’ (farrahi-i īzadī) 180 divine inspiration 177 Divine Light 30, 105, 180, 187, 197 divine philosopher (ḥakīm muta’allih) 19, 180 Divine Providence (al-‘Ināyat al-Ilāhī) 143 – 144, 164 divine sovereignty (al-wilāyat al-ilāhiyya) 184 effusion (ifāḍa) 67 ‘ego’ (anāniyya) 76 emanation 81, 178, 180 Empedocles n199 ‘End of the World’ (Ākhira al-Zamān) 12, 157, 165 ‘End of Time’ (Ākhir al-Zamān) 100 ‘enlightened knower’ (al-‘ālim al-baṣīr) 29 Epicurus 137 – 138 epistemology viii, 5, 7, 55, 111, 117, 173; epistemological 1, 2, 148, 152 equilibrium (istiwā’ al-quwā) 12, 104, 112, 137, 144 – 147, 153 eschatology vi, 3, 8, 17n41, 59, 100, 174, 189n5 esoteric (bāṭin) 98 ethical justice 12, 136, 138 – 139 ethical properties (awṣāf al-akhlāqī) 149, 155n54 ‘ethics (akhlāq) viii; moral 9, 29, 84, 139, 145, 147 – 159, 168, 197 European 3, 14n1, 15n10, 25 everlasting world, the (‘alam al-bāqī) 144 excess (ifrāṭ) 137, 166 excess and deficiency (al-ifrāṭ wa al-tafrīṭ) 129 ‘existence’ (wujūd) 2, 3; primacy of existence over quiddity and 7, 11, 51; primacy of the reality of existence (aṣālat al-wujūd) 57; the gradation of

Index  241 existence (tashkīk al-wujūd) and 51, 57, 71 existential properties 10, 87 exoteric (zāhir) 98; literalists and 10, 19, 20, 30, 33, 37, 41, 166; antiintellectualism 20; ‘people of the exterior’ (ahl al-zāhir) 32; ‘scholars of the skin’ or ‘surface’ (‘ulamā’ al-qishriyyūn) 32; zāhiriyyūn and 127 exterior world (‘ālam al-zāhir) 166 extra-mental9, 12, 73, 85 – 86, 149 – 152; see also ontic extreme mystics (ghālī Sufis) 10 ‘Face of the Truth, the’ (Wajh al-Ḥaqq) 94n127 faculties: animal faculties (quwā al-ḥayawānī) 146; vegetal faculties (quwā al-nabātī) 146 faculties of the soul: actualisation all the lower faculties 81; are the ‘mode’ (shu’ūn) of the soul 84; the soul in its unity is all [its] faculties 80 – 83, 86, 87 Fārābī (d. 338 / 951) 13, 58, 62, 118 – 122, 158 – 159, 177 – 178 Faraydūn 43n23 Farrah-i Izadī 199n41 fatwās (legal edicts) 187 Fayḍ Kashani, Mullā Muḥsen (d. 1090/ 1679) 21, 34, 41 Fazlur, Rahman 6 Findiriskī, Mīr Abul Qāsim (d. 1050/ 1640–1) 20 first entelechy (al-kamāl al-awwal) 58, 62 first leader (ra’īs al-awwal) 177, 179, 185 Four Intellectual Journeys (al-Asfār al-‘Aqliyya al-Arba‘a) 22 ‘general deputy’ (nāib al-‘āmm) 24; general authority (wilāyat al-‘āmma) and 103, 109n36 Ghadīr al-Khumm (10/632) 101 Gharavī, Sayyed Muhammad Javād (1903–2005) 101, 107n22 ghālī (exaggerators, extremists) 36; ghulāt and 16n28, 36, 37, 39, 48n125; ghuluww 36; Sufi ghulāt 36, 37 Ghazzālī, Muhammad (d. 505/1111) 28, 45n73, 135n104 gnostic 2, 3, 11, 36, 97, 98 God’s Mercy (‘ināya) 17n41, 188, 195 God’s penal law (al-ḥudūd) 109n36 ‘goodness of unity’ (al-waḥdat khayrun) 12, 204

gradation of the essence of light (tashkīk fī al-māhiyyāt) 85 ‘great kingship’ (salṭanat al-‘uzmā) 13 Great Resurrection’ (al-Qiyāmat al-Kubrā) 13; Great Arising and 13, 157, 163 – 165 Greek 51, 64, 67, 82, 119, 125, 158, 180 guardianship of the jurist (wilāyat al-faqīh) 3 ‘habitus of equilibrium’ (malikat al-i‘tidāl) 137; equilibrium (istiwā’ al-quwā) and 112, 137 Ḥāery Yazdī, Mehdi (1923–1999) 102 Ḥallāj 38 Ḥanbalīs 33, 47n102 Ḥasanzādeh Āmulī, Hasan (b. 1928) 15n9 Ḥashwiyya 33, 34, 47n102 Ḥaydar, Sultan 36, 180 Ḥaydar Mirzā 24 Heidegger Martin (1889–1976) 4, 5, 86, 91n94, 96n184 Herbert, Thomas 22 hermeneutic 1, 4, 5, 6, 97, 101, 142, 147, 103 Hermes 199n33 hidden (khafī) 61 Hidden Imam 23, 28, 40, 99, 100 Ḥujja 34, 103 human [secular] politics (sīyāsat al-basharī) 167 human soul: bodily advent (al-hudūth al-jismāī) of 52, 64 – 68; pre-existence of 68 – 76; spiritual in its survival 51, 59, 64; soul and body dichotomy 111; substantial perfection of 86 – 87 Ḥurūfī movementsn 48; Pesīkhānī, Mahmūd (d. 1427) 48n129 al-Husaini al-Ṭabīb al-Kashani, Muzaffar (d. 1551) 50n156 hylomorphism 56 Iamblichus 13, 53, 93n116 Ibn al-‘Arabī (d. 638 /1240) 13, 37, 53, 69, 127, 181 – 184, 189, 197 Ibn Bābawayh al-Qumi, Muhammad Ibn ‘Ali Ibn Husayn (d. 381/991) 47n111; see also Shaykh al-Ṣadūq Ibn Khaldun vii, viii, 124 Ibn Miskawayh (929–1029) 58 Ibn Rushd (Averroes) vii, 119, 126, 172n49 Ibn Sina (Avicenna) vii, 6, 11, 19, 55, 59, 62, 73, 83 – 84, 143, 207 Ibn Taymīyya (d. 723/1328) 125 Ibrāhīm Ibn Adham (d. 161–6/777) 186

242  Index illuminationist (ishrāqī) 37 ‘imaginal faculty’ (quwwat al-khayāl) 178; imaginal realms (‘ālam al-mithāl) 189 imaginal world (‘ālam al-mithāl) 5; imagination (khayāl) 77; imaginalia 120 Imam Ali ix, 101 Imamis 156, 155n54 Imamite 99, 100 imamological 185 Imam Qulī Khān (d. 1042 /1633) 21, 27 Imam Ṣādiq 108n33 immaterial entities (huwiyyāt al-mujarrada) 71 immaterial substances (al-jawāhir al-mufāriq) 113 impeccable (ma‘sūm) 80, 100, 103, 125, 185 – 186, 190, 191 ‘indivisible and pure existence’ (al-wujūd al-maḥḍ/baḥt) 76 inner meaning of the Qur’an (ta’wīl al-Qur’an) 8; bāṭin and 98, 114, 142 inner revelation (mukāshafāt bāṭiniyya) 53 intellect (‘aql) 61, 147, 167; reason (‘aql) 61, 126, 131 intellective Forms (muthul) 94n137 intelligibilia 56, 63, 82, 93n112, 120 ‘interpretive reasoning’ (ijtihād) 23 intuitive knowledge (al-‘ilm al-shuhūdī) 1, 179 Iran ix, 3, 8, 20, 22, 32, 40, 97, 181; Islamic Revolution of 3, 8, 102, 108 Isfahan vii, 2, 20, 22, 26, 27, 33, 98 Isfahani, Mullā Muhammad Ismā‘īl (d. 1275/1860) 43n19 Isfahani, Shah ‘Ināyat Allah (d. 1033 /1618) 24 Isḥāq Ibn Ya‘qūb 103, 108n34 Ismā‘īl I (1501–1524) 22, 23, 27 Ismā‘īl II, Shah (1576–1577) 22, 23, 24, 25 Izutsu, Toshihiko (1914–1993) 4, 5 Jābirī, Mīrzā Salmān 25 Jambet, Christian 6, 91n94 Jamshīd 43n23 Javādī Āmulī, Abdullah (b. 1933) 15n9, 108n9 Jewish 100, 298 Judeo-Christian 100 jurist (faqīh) 29, 173, 174 justice: social justice 12. 136, 137, 140, 142, 146, 166; ethical justice 12, 136 – 139 ‘just ruler, the’ (al-sulṭān al-‘ādil) 40

Kahak 17n47, 20, 21, 36, 37 Kalin, Ibrahim 4, 7 al-Karakī, Ali (d. 940/1534) 23, 26, 28, 32, 36, 39, 40, 103 al-Karakī, Mīr Sayyid Husain (d. 1001 / 1592) 24 Karbala 99, 107n16 Karrāmiyya 33, 47n103 Kay Khusraw (d.1211) 13, 173, 186 Khanūm, Parī Khān 25 Khatib, Mīr Sayyid Ali (d. 988 /1573) 24 khilāfat al-ṣughrā (lesser Khilāfat) 182, 190 Khomeini 3, 4, 106n7 Khudābandeh, Shah Muhammad (1578–1587) 22, 25 ‘kingdom’ (salṭana) 13 King Henry VIII 170n3 kings (salāṭīn) 13, 40, 175, 188 Kirmānī, Ḥamīd al-dīn (d. 412/1021) 8 knowledge: ‘knowledge by presence’ (al-‘ilm al-huḍūrī) 54, 133n31; as a mode of being 7, 55 – 56 Kulaynī, Muhammad Ibn Ya‘qūb (d. 328 / 940) 34, 99, 175, 176 Lāhījī, Mullā Abd al-Razzāq (d. 1072/1661) 41, 43n18 Lāleh, Mīr Makhdūm (947 /1532) 24 lawful king (malik al-sunna) 173, 179, 185, 196 lawgiver (shāri‘) 105, 123, 126 law of creation (qānūn takwīn) 155n37, 162 Leaman, Oliver ii, 14 ‘lesser kingship’ (salṭanat al-ṣughrā) 13, 188; ‘lesser imamate or khilāfat’ and 190 lesser outward kingship (salṭanat al-ṣughrā al-zāhirī) 187 Logos (‘aql) 69 ‘Lordly Presence’ (al-Ḥaḍarat al-Rubūbiyya) 69 luminosity (zuḥūr) 85 ‘luminous reality of existence, the’ (al-ḥaqīqat al-nūriyyat al-wujūdiyya) 85 Lycurgus 168 Machiavelli vii al-madīnat al-jāhila (the ignorant city) 158, 162, 209; dissolute city (al-madīnat al-fāsiqa) and 170n7; straying city (al-madīnat al-ḍālla) and 170n7; turncoat city (al-madīnat al-mubaddila) and 170n7

Index  243 Majlisī II (Majlisī), Muhammad Bāqir (d. 1111/1699) 28, 46n75, 48n115, 106n6 Makkī, Shams al-Din Muhammad Ibn (d. 786/1384) see Shahīd al-Awwal Malakūt 69, 71, 112, 163, 192 managing the home (tadbīr al-manzil) 169; ‘managing the society’ (tadbīr al-mudun) and 169 manifestations (mazāhir) 82, 84 manifests as a body (zuhūruhā nbi zuhūr al-badān) 62 Mar‘ashī, Sayyid Husayn Ibn Rafī‘ al-Din (Sulṭān al-‘ulamā) (d. 1064/1654) 27 Mashhad 24 al-Māwardī, Abu al-Hasan (d. 450/1058) 125 Mazandaran 27, 45n53 Mazandarani, Muhammad Ismā‘īl 15n9, 48n115 Mecca 22 mental existence (al-wujūd al-dhihnī) 54, 55, 111, 150 metaphysics 2, 3, 5, 10, 12, 21, 52, 55, 72, 182; metaphysical vi, 1, 53, 79, 98, 163, 197 microcosm (al-‘ālam al-ṣaghīr) 143, 147, 193 Minor Arising (Qīyāmat al-Ṣughrā) 157, 165, 205 ‘Minor Resurrection’ (al-Qiyāmat al-Ṣughrā)13 Mīr-Mīrān, Mīr Ghīyāth al-Din Muhammad 25 al-Miṣrī, Dhu al-Nūn (d. 245/859) 186 ‘modes of existence’ (sh’ūnāt al-wujūd) 74 ‘modulation of being’ (tashkīk) 7; degrees of existence (tashkīk al-wujūd) and 7; ‘gradations of existence’ (tashkīk al-wujūd) and 12 Mogul vii More, Henry (1614–1687) 4 More, Thomas 158, 170n3 Morris, James W. ix, 5, 7, 14, 16 Mudarris Zunūzī, Mullā ‘Ali (d. 1280/1889) 43n19 Muddaris, Āqā ‘Ali (d. 1818) 15n9 Muhammadan Reality (ḥaqīqat al-Muhamadiyya)182 multiplicity (kathra) 74, 91n88; the essences/ quiddities 85; the physical faculties (al-quwā al-jismiyya) 63; the material realm 70, 72, 190, 204; see also ‘multiplicity in unity’; ‘unity in multiplicity’

multiplicity in unity 52, 84, 142, 178 mundus imaginalis 200n55 murshid al-kāmil (perfect spiritual guide) 23, 35 Musha‘sha‘, Muhammad Ibn Falāḥ (d. 867 / 1462) 39, 49n149 Musha‘sha‘īs 39 al-Muṭahhar al-Ḥillī, Ḥasan b. Yūsuf b. (d. 726 /1325) 24, 46n74 Mu‘tazilī 99; Mu‘tazilites 155 – 156n54 mystery (sirr) 39 mysticism (‘irfān) 3, 110 Nafas al-Raḥmānī 42, 154n27 Nahj al-Balāgha ix, 99 Nasafī, Azīz al-Din (d. 661 /1262) 37 Nasr, Seyyid Hossein 3, 4, 5, 7, 98, 99, 105, 91n94 nature (ṭabī‘a) 61, 67, 92n97; nature (dhāt) and 61 necessary being (wājib) 73 Neoplatonic 7, 11, 13, 35, 73, 75, 82, 118, 205 Neoplatonists 53, 88n4, 95n153 Newman, Andrew 14, 106n7 Nicomachean Ethics 118, 119, 1537 Ni‘matiyya 39 Noetic 5, 56, 60, 80 nonexistence (‘adam) 70, 94n120 Nuqtavīs 48n130 Nuqtaviyya ṭarīqah 36 Nurbakhsh, Muhammad (d. 869 /1464) 39, 49n149 Nurbakhshī 37; Nurbakhshīs 37 Nūrī, Mullā ‘Ali Ibn Jamshīd (d. 1245/1830) 43n19 obedience (ubūdīya) 13, 40, 188 Occultation 14, 28, 37, 40, 97, 100, 102, 103, 165, 188; Greater Occultation (al-Ghaybat al-Kubrā) 157 ontic 12, 57, 136, 143, 147, 164, 209; the correspondences between the human psyche 143; relationship between spiritual and political life 13; society’justice’ as ‘ontic’ and ‘extra-mental’ 147 ontological: approach to Ṣadrā’s psychology 61 – 64; explanation for the relationship of ‘the One and the many’ 70; ontological explanation of justice 152; ontological link between knowledge and power 57 ontology: the correspondence between ontology, ethics and psychology 143;

244  Index o’ntology of knowledge’ 55; ontology with an axiological dimension 10; the primacy (aṣalat) and gradation of being (tashkik al-wujūd) 64; Ṣadrā’s ontology of the human soul 7; a universal ontology 194 ophthalmia 33 Ottoman Empire 25 Ottomans vii, 22, 23, 25 ‘owner of command, the’ (aṣḥāb al-rīyāsa) 188, 197 people of wisdom and virtue (ahl al-ḥikmat wal faḍīlah) 168 ‘perfect man, the’ (al-insān al-kāmil) 35; comprehensive being (al-wujūd al-jāmi‘) and 173, 184, 189; ‘a comprehensive being’ 71, 173, 184, 189, 190; ‘comprehensive existent (wujūd al-jāmi‘) 113; ‘comprehensive man’ (al-insān al-jāmi‘) 181 – 182, 197; ‘comprehensive soul’ 87 Peripatetics (Mashshā’īn) 1 perishing world (‘alam al-fānī) 144 Persian Empires 22 philosophical demonstration (burhān) 128 philosophy of the human soul (‘ilm al-nafs) 5, 10, 52, 57 physical faculties (al-quwā al-jismiyya) 63 Plato vii, 58, 62, 69, 93n116, 118, 125, 128, 137, 158 Platonic 53, 66, 75, 77, 91n94, 93n116, 118, 127 Plotinus 53, 54, 159 pole (al-quṭb) 57, 182 popular religious beliefs (i‘tiqadāt al-‘āmīyya) 29 Porphyry 58, 201n93 Portuguese vii, 25 potential intellect (al-‘aql bi’l-quwwa) 65 practical wisdom (al-ḥikmat al-‘amalī) 143 principle of multiplicity (mathār al-kathra) 85 Proclus 52, 73, 82, 93n116, 95n153 ‘proof of the veracious’ (burhān al-ṣiddiqin) 94n130 prophecy (nubuwwat) 98, 94n134; prophetology vi prophetic revelation (al-waḥy al-nabawī) 127 psychic quality (al-kayf al-nafsānī) 55 psychology viii, 22, 52, 61, 117, 142, 204; spiritual psychology and 53

‘public benefit’ (maṣlaḥa) 135n104 ‘pure existence’ (al-wujūd al-maḥḍ) 74 Pyrrho 148 Pythagoras (570–495 BC) 128, 95n153, 199n33; Pythagorean 13, 95n153 Qādiriyya 22 Qizilbāsh 23, 25, 36, 40, 44n40 quiddity (māhiyya) 7, 11, 51, 73, 74, 86 Qum 21, 24 Qumī, Muhammad Ṭāhir 39 Qumi, Muhammad Ṭāhir Ibn Muhammad Husain (d. 1098/1687) 48n115 Qumī, Qāḍī Sa‘īd (d. 1111/1696) 43n19 Qumsha’ī, Āqā Muhammad Riḍā (d. 1303/1888–1889) 43n19 Qūnawī 15n9 Qur’an: an esoteric commentary on 34; inner meaning of 8, 28; outer aspects of 177; rational process of deduction (ijtihād) from 103 Qushayrī 15n9 Rahman, Fazlur (1919–1988) 6 raqīqa 69, 164, 165 realm of archetypal meanings (‘alām al-ma‘nā) 5 ‘realm of effacement, the’ (al-‘ālam al-maḥw) 70 ‘realm of reality, the’ (al-‘ālam al-ḥaqīqa) 70 reasoned demonstration (burhān) 1 referent (miṣdāq) 91n88 religious administration (sīyāsat al-dīniyya) 124 ‘repository of God on earth, the’ (Dhakhīrat Allah ‘alal-Arḍ) 99 representatives (nā’ib) 173, 183 Resurrector (Qā’im) 100 ‘Right Path’ 146; straight path (al-ṣirāt al-mustaqīm) 120 Rizvi, Sajjad 7, 14, 34 rulers (ḥukkām) 13, 40, 188 Sa‘āda (happiness) 105, 118, 158 Sabzavārī, Hājj Mullā Hādī (1833–1910) 5, 43, 48 Sabzavārī (Mir Lawḥī), Tājīk Sayyid Muhammad (d. after 1672) 48n115 Sacred Realm (‘Ālam al-Quds) 63 al-Ṣādiq, Ja‘far 70; see also Imam Ṣādiq Safavid dynasty 22, 23, 25, 31, 32, 35, 181 Ṣafī I, Shah (1629–1642) 22 sage (ḥakīm) 19

Index  245 Ṣaḥifa Sajjādiyya 99 sainthood 82, 185, 190, 191 – 194 saint (walī) 57, 100, 103, 173, 181, 183, 185, 191, 194, 207 salvation 98, 113, 158, 195, 198 Sa‘udi Arabia 134n79 Sayyid Raḍī (d. 406 /1015) 24 ‘seal of the mujtahids’ 24 Seal of the Prophets 48n125 ‘secondary philosophical intelligible’ (al-ma‘qūl al-thānī al-falsafī) 151; ‘secondary logical intelligible’ 150 Second Return (Raj‘a) 175, 165 ‘secondary qualities’ 149 secret contemplation (mushāhadāt sirriyya) 53 seminaries (ḥawza) 8; Shi‘i ḥawza and 34, 35 sense (ḥiss) 94n137 Sensibilia 56, 73, 82, 117, 120 Shahīd al-Awwal 46n74 Shahīd al-Thānī 46n74 Shakespeare vii Shari‘a: divine law (qānūn al-shari‘a) 118, 155n37; religious ritual 116; revealed laws 120, 125, 126, 145 al-Sharīf, al-Murtaḍā (d. 436 /1044) 24 Sharīf Astarābādī, Muhammad Amin Ibn Muhammad (d. 1033–36/1624–27) 32 Sharīfī, Mīrzā Makhdūm (d. 995 /1587) 24 Shaykh al-Ṣadūq 47, 103 Shaykh al-Islam 43n17, 44n36 Shaykh Bahā’a (d. 1031/1622) 20, 26 – 28, 36, 42n10, 103; see also Bahā’ al-Din Muhammad al-Āmilī Shi‘a 3, 11, 14, 23, 28, 37, 99, 183, 197; Shi‘a Imams 70; Twelver 22, 23, 25, 31, 99, 174; Twelver Imami Shi‘ism 22, 31; Twelver Shi‘a 37, 170 Shi‘a Imams 70 Shiraz vii, 1, 8, 20 – 25, 44n36, 48n115 Shirazi, Mawlānā Jān 24 Ṣiffīn (Battle) 99 ‘simplicity of the soul’ (biṣāṭat al-nafs) 57 society (al-ijtimā‘) 121 Socrates 46n88, 128, 148, 154n11 ‘spirit’ (rūh) 60, 61 St. Augustine 158 stage (manzil) 182 substance: substantial change (al-ḥarakat al-jawhariyya) 11, 65, 72; substantial evolution in the nature 7, 64, 67, 139, 193; substantial motion 51 – 53, 62 – 64,

66, 81, 84, 86, 161, 165; substantial perfections (al-kamālāt al-jawhariyya) 67; substantial transformation (intiqāl al-jawharī) 62, 111 substratum (jawhar) 150; dhāt (essence) and 155n54 Sufi metaphysicians (‘urafā) 1 Sufi path (tarīqa) 39 Suhrawardī, Shihāb al-Dīn Yaḥya (d. 587/1191) 4, 11, 13, 19, 26, 35, 73, 80, 173, 177, 179 – 181 al-sultān al-‘ādil 23, 40, 43; ‘the just ruler’ and 23, 40, 137, 147, 166 Ṭabāṭabā’ī, Sayyid Muhammad Husayn (d. 1981) 13, 15n9 Ṭahmāsp I, Shah (1524–1576) 22, 24, 180 tasawwuf (Sufism) 38 Ta’wīl 8, 101, 175, 183 theology 1, 20, 28, 32, 34, 98, 101, 17; Theologia 54, 93113; theologians (mutakallimūn) 10, 19, 30, 41 theophanic 136, 142 theoretical mysticism (‘irfān al-nazarī) 181 theosophy 3, 15, 127; ‘theosopher’ 3 Thrasymachus 148 Timurid vii transcendent philosophy (al-ḥikmat al-muta‘ālīyya) 1, 19, 21 transcendent politics 110, 132, 147, 194, 206 transmitted sciences (al-‘ulūm al-naqlīyya) 1, 20, 42n10 transmitters (ruwāt) 103 “true king” (al-malik fi al-ḥaqīqa) 179 ‘true owner of command’ (aṣḥāb al-rīyāsa) 13 Truth (al-ḥaqq) 12 136; Truth (Ḥaqīqa) 115, 191; ‘from the Truth to the people’ (min al-ḥaqq ila al-khalq) 117 truth of existence (haqīqa al-wujūd) 2 al-Ṭūsī, Muhammad Ibn Hasan (d. 460 /1068) 47n111 Tūnī, Mullā Ahmad 48n115 Ṭūsī, Naṣīr al-Dīn (d. 672/1274) 37, 42n9, 43n18, 93n112, 138 al-Tustarī, Sahl (d. 283/896) 186 Twelfth Imam 12, 13, 41, 99, 102, 164, 191; Mahdi 28, 100, 165 – 166, 182, 188, 205 ‘ulamā 2, 10, 13, 19, 28, 39, 97, 136, 174 – 175, 186 ‘Umar Ibn Khaṭṭāb (d. 23/644) 186

246  Index ‘unificational existence’ (al-wujūd al-jam‘ī) 76 unified community (al-ummat al-wāḥida) 140 uniting with the intelligible world (ittiḥād al-‘āqil wa’l-ma‘qūl) 56 unity (waḥda) 52, 63, 193; unity of existence (waḥdat al-wujūd) 3 ‘unity in multiplicity’ (al-waḥdat fi’l kathra) 11, 12, 72, 204 unseen realm (‘ālam al-ghayb) 177 unveiling (kashf) 55; unveiling (mukāshifa) 101 Urdūbādī, Hātim Beg 26 Urmawī, Sirāj al-Din (d. 682/1294) 179 Ustajlü 25 Uṣūlīs 32, 34, 48 ‘Uthmān (d. 35/656) 186 Uthūlūjīyā 42 utopia 3, 158, 170n1 Uzbeks vii, 22, 23, 25 Vā‘iz Kāshifī, Husayn (d. 1504) 49n156 Valéry, Paul 2 vicegerency (khilāfa) 183; God’s representative (nā‘ib) 183; vicegerent 78, 180, 184, 185, 187, 191 virtuous city (madina al-fāḍila) 12, 122, 141, 157, 159 – 169; contribution to society (mushārakat al-ijtimā‘ī) and 168; the just society (al-jāmi‘at al-‘ādila) 157; kāmilah (complete) and 134n74; the life of society (ḥayāt al-jam‘ī)

122; and preservation of the order of society (ḥifzu nazm al-ijtimā‘) and 123; promised society (ummat al-maw‘ūda) 12, 205; ṭayyibah (pleasant) and 134n74; virtuous society (al-ijtimā‘ al-fāḍila) 122; see also utopia ‘waiting for the Saviour’ (intizār al-Munjī) 100 walāya vi, 100, 125, 200; terminology of Sufism 100 Walzer, R. 122 wilāya vi, 4, 7, 98, 99, 182 – 185, 191; al-‘āmma 103, 104; al-faqīh 3, 11, 32; al-faqīh al-‘ādil 136; al-ilāhiyya 184; al-muṭlaqa al-faqīh 9; al-qaḍā/al-ḥisba 103; leadership 98; riyāsa al-faqīh 174; see also pole (al-quṭb); sainthood wisdom (al-ḥikma) 128, 139, 207 worldly form (al-ṣūrat al-dunyawiyya) 65 worldly idol (tāghūt) 97 ‘world of Oneness, the’ (al-‘ālam al-waḥda) 66 world of the immaterial, the (‘ālam al-tajarrud) 66 words of ecstasy (shaṭḥiyyāt) 38 zāhir 98, 114, 142 Zayn al-‘Ābidīn 92n97, 99 Zunūzī, Āqā ‘Alī (d. 1889) 15n9 Zunūzī, Mullā ‘Abdullah (d. 1256/1841) 43n19