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Unity and Diversity in Contemporary Muslim Thought
Unity and Diversity in Contemporary Muslim Thought Edited by
Abbas Poya and Farid Suleiman
Unity and Diversity in Contemporary Muslim Thought Edited by Abbas Poya and Farid Suleiman This book first published 2017 Cambridge Scholars Publishing Lady Stephenson Library, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2PA, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2017 by Abbas Poya, Farid Suleiman and contributors All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-4438-4316-4 ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-4316-4
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Introduction ................................................................................................. 1 Abbas Poya and Farid Suleiman Section 1: Pathways in Sunni Theology Chapter One ............................................................................................... 12 The Turkish QurގƗnic Exegete Süleyman Ateú and His Contemporary Commentary of the QurގƗn Abdullah Takim (Frankfurt) Chapter Two .............................................................................................. 47 Faith, Policy and Theology: The Theological Stance of the Syrian Scholar Muতammad SaޏƯd RamaঌƗn al-Bnj৬Ư (1929-2013) Abbas Poya (Erlangen) Chapter Three ............................................................................................ 63 A Call to Unity: Ynjsuf al-QaraঌƗwƯ’s Middle Way Approach to the Interpretation of the Divine Attributes Farid Suleiman (Erlangen) Chapter Four .............................................................................................. 85 Between Unity and Diversity: RƗshid al-Ghannouchi’s Concept of Pluralism Benjamin Jokisch (Berlin) Chapter Five .............................................................................................. 98 The Theory of ImƗma according to SaޏƯd ণawwƗ Samir Suleiman (Hebron) Chapter Six .............................................................................................. 121 ৡ. MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ: The Philosophy of Jurisprudence in Islam. The Evolution of Laws Rana Alsoufi (Erlangen)
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Section 2: Concepts and Methods in Shiite Theology Chapter Seven.......................................................................................... 134 The Twelver Shia: Theological Characteristics Reza Hajatpour (Erlangen) Chapter Eight ........................................................................................... 150 Authority and Rituals in the Shia Ismaili Tradition: An Interpretative Analysis Yahya Baiza (London) Chapter Nine............................................................................................ 174 Prophetic Philosophy and the Renewal of Islamic Intellectuality in the Thought of Seyyed Hossein Nasr Ruggero Vimercati Sanseverino (Tübingen) Chapter Ten ............................................................................................. 208 How the Prophet Saw the World: On the QurގƗnic Exegesis of Mohammad Mojtahed Shabestari Abbas Poya (Erlangen) Contributors ............................................................................................. 228 Index ........................................................................................................ 231
INTRODUCTION ABBAS POYA AND FARID SULEIMAN
Not only Islamic theology, but theology in general, is widely understood as a field of knowledge that occupies itself with religious questions whose validity transcends time and place. A closer inspection, however, reveals that the emergence and development of (Islamic) theology is not only inextricably linked with disciplines like philosophy, mysticism, jurisprudence and natural sciences, but must also be examined against the historical backdrop of social, economic and political conditions. Thus, it is not surprising that Islamic history has witnessed a vast range of divergent theological understandings up until the present time. There are diverse theological understandings within different Islamic historical contexts, religious schools, philosophical threads and epistemological developments. In the summer term of 2014, an international lecture series held at the Department of Islamic-Religious Studies of the Friedrich-AlexanderUniversität Erlangen-Nürnberg gave a glimpse into these developments and verities. One major question raised by the lecture series was that of the limits and boundaries of (Islamic) theology and how they have constantly been re-defined. To ensure relevance for today’s world, the scope of the lectures was limited by two criteria: First, each contribution had to focus on the thought of a contemporary Muslim theologian, whose creative period came after the year of 1950. Second, besides a purely theological examination, the contribution also had to consider the interdependence between theological debates and the larger context in which they took place. The volume here largely follows this conceptual framework and has brought together articles by European and Middle Eastern scholars. While some of the contributions are based on the series of lectures others have been added to the volume at a later stage. Inter alia, this volume seeks to contribute to discourses on the self and the other in Islamic thought. Islamic theology like any other form of theology, cannot avoid defining an image of the self, drawing thereby a line that separates it from the other. In that it follows a symbolic order within specific historical contexts. This defining of what can be counted as Islamic always entails a moment of exclusion and, at the same time, also a
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Introduction
space where transition and shifting of meanings can ensue. We regard this space for the negotiation of discourses and meanings as a dynamic and open process of enabling for the future development of new reconfigurations within encompassing understandings of (theological Islamic) belonging. In traditional theological debates, the negative question about who does not belong to Islam was considered to be crucial. Muslim theologians of all shades tried to (re-)formulate the framework of acceptable belief. Labels such as kufr (unbelief), irtidƗd (apostasy), zandaqa (heresy), fisq (iniquity) and ڲalƗl (aberrance) have been and are still being used to delegitimise beliefs that supposedly fall outside this framework. The literary genre of heresiography evolved around a Prophetic tradition which states that the ‘Muslim community’ will be divided into seventy-three sects, of which only one will be saved. This tradition has been narrated in many different versions,1 including one that condemns only one sect to hell and promises to the remaining seventy-two the reward of paradise.2 One of the narrations that is commonly cited is to be found in the ۊadƯth-collection alMuҵjam al-kabƯr of Abnj l-QƗsim al-৫abarƗnƯ (d. 360/971) and will be quoted in Arabic and then translated into English in the following: Iftaraqat al-Yahnjd ޏalƗ iতdƗ wa-sabޏƯna firqa, wa-ftaraqat al-NaৢƗrƗ ޏalƗ thnatayni wa-sabޏƯna firqa, wa-l-ladhƯ nafsƯ bi-yadihi, la-taftariqanna ummatƯ ޏalƗ thalƗtha wa-sabޏƯna firqa wƗতida fƯ-l-janna wa-thnatƗni wasabޏnjna fƯ-l-nƗr. QƯl: YƗ rasnjl AllƗh, wa-man hiya? QƗl: Al-JamƗޏa.3 “The Jews have divided into seventy-one sects, the Christians have divided into seventy-two sects, I swear by Whom Who carries my soul in His hand, my community will divide into seventy-three sects, one of which will be in Paradise and seventy-two in Hell.” It was said: “O Messenger of God, who are they?” He said: Al-JamƗҵa4.” 1 See Josef van Ess, Der Eine und das Andere, 2 vols. (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2010), 1:7–64. 2 In that version, the Qadariyya are identified as the group that is doomed to hell. However, Muslim scholars considered it to be a fabricated narration. See e.g. Abnj ޏAbd AllƗh al-JawraqƗnƯ, al-AbƗܒƯl wa-l-manƗkir wa-l-܈iۊƗ ۊwa-l-mashƗhƯr, ed. ޏAbd al-RaতmƗn al-FaryawƗގƯ (Riyadh: DƗr al-ৡumayޏƯ, 2002), 1:459–60, ণadƯth number 277 and the author’s subsequent comment. 3 Abnj l-QƗsim al-৫abarƗnƯ, al-Muҵjam al-kabƯr, ed. ণamdƯ ޏAbd al-MajƯd (Riyadh: DƗr al-ৡumayޏƯ, 1994), 18:70, ণadƯth number 129. 4 Al-ShƗ৬ibƯ (d. 790/1388) cites five different opinions in regard to what is intended by the term al-JamƗҵa in this ۊadƯth. He himself defines it as the community that adheres to its leader who acts in accordance with the Qur’an and the sunna (alJamƗҵa rƗjiҵat ilƗ l-ijtimƗҵ ҵalƗ l-imƗm al-muwƗfiq li-l-kitƗb wa-s-sunna). See Abnj IsতƗq al-ShƗ৬ibƯ, al-Iҵti܈Ɨm, ed. Muতammad ibn ޏAbd al-RaতmƗn al-Shuqayr, Saޏd
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Scholars over the centuries have attempted—albeit with little success —to write a history of the Islamic schism that accords with the predicted number mentioned in the ۊadƯth. The vast quantity of heresiographical literature that is structured around this tradition should however not obscure the fact that its authenticity has been and still is disputed. For example, Ynjsuf al-QaraঌƗwƯ (b. 1926) bases his understanding on prior acknowledged scholars like Ibn ণazm (d. 456/1064), arguing against its reliability from the standpoint of both its isnƗd (chain of transmitters) as well its meaning.5 Another contemporary scholar, Muতammad ibn alণasan al-ShanqƯ৬Ư (b. 1963), considers only the first part of the ۊadƯth that talks about the inner divisions of the three monotheistic religions to be acceptable. Rejecting the latter part allows al-ShanqƯ৬Ư to suggest a complete re-interpretation of the Prophet’s saying. The division into seventy-three Muslim sub-groups, he argues, should be understood as a prediction that the Muslim umma will outnumber the Jews and the Christians. Therefore, the ۊadƯth is not—as has often been said—rebuking but in fact praising the Muslim community.6 Regardless of the authenticity of the afore-mentioned ۊadƯth, defining and establishing ‘correct’ belief has been considered one of the main tasks in theology. Great theologians of the past tried to formulate a universally valid framework of proper beliefs.7 But history has proved that the dividing line between orthodoxy and heresy has been permanently renegotiated and adapted to fit the changing political, social and religious contexts.8 ibn ޏAbd AllƗh Al al-ণumayd, and HishƗm ibn IsmƗޏƯl al-ৡƯnƯ (Riyadh: DƗr Ibn alJawzƯ, 2008), 3:209–16, quote on 216. 5 Ynjsuf al-QaraঌƗwƯ, “ণadƯth iftirƗq al-umma ilƗ thalƗth wa-sabޏƯna firqa,” Personal Website of Ynjsuf al-QaraঌƗwƯ, accessed April 2015, http://www.qaradawi.net/new/library2/282-2014-01-26-18-52-49/3339-. 6 Muতammad ibn al-ণasan al-ShanqƯ৬Ư, “al-Shaykh al-Dadaw: ণadƯth al-iftirƗq ilƗ thalƗth wa-sabޏƯna firqa lƗ yadullu alƗ l-dhamm. Wa-ghƗyatuhnj kathrat hƗdhihi alumma,” Saudi Arabian daily newspaper ޏUkƗ, accessed April 2015, http://www.okaz.com.sa/okaz/osf/20070802/Con20070802129518.htm. 7 For example, Abnj ণƗmid al-GhazƗlƯ (d. 505/111) insisted in his TahƗfut alfalƗsifa that believing in the eternity of the world constitutes kufr (heresy). However, many later theologians, among them the famous mutakallim Fakhr alDƯn al-RƗzƯ (d. 606/1210), who belonged to the same school of thought as his predecessor al-GhazƗlƯ, have rejected this claim. Al-RƗzƯ argued that the problem of whether the world is eternal or not is insoluble on both theological and philosophical grounds. See Muammer øskendero÷lu, Fakhr al-DƯn al-RƗzƯ and Thomas Aquinas on the Question of the Eternity of the World (Leiden: Brill, 2002). 8 For example, the political conditions of the fifth/eleventh century heavily influenced the Ashޏarite concept of belief and disbelief. See Frank Griffel,
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This volume does not seek to answer the question of what forms of theology can be justifiably labelled as Islamic. The answers to this question may vary greatly, but what they have in common is that they are grounded in an examination of different existing theological positions and are looking into the possibilities of, and for, future epistemologies. And it is precisely here that this volume aims to make a contribution. These different questionings and approaches to the subject-matter allow one to firstly see the diversity in a constantly changing discourse which, although it relates to former, older arguments, nevertheless generates an understanding of Islamic Theology that goes beyond these texts. What can be seen here is also intertextuality, as well as the praxis of negotiating in theological matters from very different angles and also with different theological ways of argumentation. This shows on the one hand how much theology is part of an ongoing process as well as how much it currently matters and seeks to develop different positions. It all also sheds light on the historically driven, socio-political reasons behind what is perceived as true Islamic Theology. This is even more so the case when, as is mirrored in this book, the discussions also encompass perspectives from different Muslim Diasporas. Interestingly, not only the content of the contributions, but also the different approaches of the lecturers confirm the existence of a great measure of diversity in the field of Islamic theology. There is currently a certain amount of hype around the word ‘diversity’. That involves issues of racism and racialization in white societies and forms of exclusion on the basis of gender, dis/ability, sexuality, religion and age, in specific areas of public space in Western society which perceives itself to be ‘multicultural’. We use and understand the word ‘diversity’ around the historically driven socio-political forms of exclusion and inclusion along the constructions of a centralized ‘self’ and marginalized ‘others’ in discourses of Islamic Theology and its establishment in different disciplinary Islamic traditions and schools of thought. This volume is presented as a contribution to this subject, a subject which is far from being exhausted. The following will be a brief tour through the volume, providing the reader with a synopsis of each article. Abdullah Takim deals mainly with the new exegetical approach of the famous Turkish QurގƗn commentator Süleyman Ateú (b. 1933). One of the most respected, as well as controversial Islamic theologians of modern-day Turkey, Ateú is among those who argue for a new understanding and Apostasie und Toleranz im Islam: Die Entwicklung zu al-ƤazƗlƯs Urteil gegen die Philosophie und die Reaktionen der Philosophen (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 206–15 and 468–69, esp. 214–15.
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interpretation of Islam and the QurގƗn. Süleyman Ateú’s intention in writing his commentary on the QurގƗn was, according to Abdullah Takim, to liberate it from the various interpretative additions and accretions of the exegetes and to present what he considers to be a more authentic form of exegesis. Takim describes this attempt as a return to the QurގƗn. Through this, Ateú believes, Islam can be rethought and reconceptualised. One very important result of his exegesis is, according to Takim, that Jews and Christians are also potentially held to go to paradise, provided they meet certain criteria. Generating a great deal of public and theological discussion within Turkish society, Takim shows that this thesis has resulted in various critiques and diatribes aimed at defending the true Islam against propagated claims by Ateú which have been seen as a threat to Islamic thinking. Unlike the major intellectual and hermeneutical shifts introduced and elaborated by Fazlur Rahman (d. 1988), Mohammed Arkoun (d. 2010) and Naৢr ণƗmid Abnj Zayd (d. 2010), Takim argues that Ateú’s approach, in fact, has been more fruitful for the specific Turkish context and has led to new discussions on the QurގƗn, its understanding and possible approaches towards it. The recent assassination of the renowned Muslim scholar Shaykh Muতammad SaޏƯd RamaঌƗn al-Bnj৬Ư on 21 March 2013 marked a new peak of intensity in the current Syrian conflict. Despite the wide recognition of al-Bnj৬Ư as a religious authority, and in spite of his intellectual influence which extends beyond Syria’s borders, he received little attention from Western academics and researchers. Abbas Poya’s contribution to this volume highlights the works of al-Bnj৬Ư, pointing out that in a number of studies al-Bnj৬Ư is presented as having contributed to an Islam that is a ‘modern’, ‘rational’, ‘enlightened’ and ‘self-confident’ religion. However, Poya argues against this portrayal. After providing a short biography of alBnj৬Ư the article first offers a selection of al-Bnj৬Ư’s theological statements and contextualises al-Bnj৬Ư within conventional Islamic theology. This is followed by a discussion of al-Bnj৬Ư’s theological understanding and his positions in a number of socio-political questions. In conclusion, the possibility of categorizing al-Bnj৬Ư’s theological stance is questioned, what the meanings of a ‘modern’, ‘rational’ and ‘enlightened’ Islam would be and how far and in which sense this can be seen as ‘enlightening’. Farid Suleiman engages with the texts and figure of Ynjsuf al-QaraঌƗwƯ (b. 1926) who is considered to be one of the most influential Muslim scholars of today. Research has focused mostly on his works on Islamic jurisprudence and has identified his overwhelming desire for intra-Muslim unity as its common theme. By examining al-QaraঌƗwƯ’s positions in the hotly debated issue of the correct understanding of the divine attributes,
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Suleiman’s article shows that the preservation of unity can also be considered the driving force in his theological thought. Suleiman demonstrates how al-QaraঌƗwƯ made every effort to convince his readership of the validity of all three of today’s most common approaches to the interpretation of God’s attributes (tafwƯڲ, ithbƗt and taҴwƯl), arguing that they should not be the source of discord within the Muslim community. The article concludes that al-QaraঌƗwƯ has not only subordinated internal coherence to this aim, but that he has also selectively cited the works of acknowledged Muslim scholars of the past. Benjamin Jokisch focuses on the works of one of the most prominent scholars and politicians in the contemporary Islamic world, the Tunisian RƗchid al-Ghannouchi. Al-Ghannouchi developed a number of modern concepts in the field of political theory, one of which concerns the issue of pluralism, which he treats in the context both of Islamic tradition including relevant QurގƗnic verses and more recent Western views. Jokisch focuses in his contribution on the ways in which al-Ghannouchi tries to reinterpret the holy text and to harmonise the tension between unity as emphasised by the concept of tawۊƯd on one side and diversity as represented by the Western concept of pluralism on the other. Jokisch argues that alGhannouchi’s concept of pluralism goes beyond classical Islamic views, but nevertheless is limited with regard to the Western idea of pluralism. SaޏƯd HawwƗ’s (1935–1989) works are the central theme of Samir Suleiman’s contribution. His article asks whether SaޏƯd HawwƗ’s writings still exert an influence on the thinking of political activists in many Muslim countries. Suleiman’s article gives an insight into this Syrian Sunni scholar’s political thought in general, as well as into his theory of the imƗma in particular. ণawwƗ considered the establishment of an Islamic state an urgent need (ڲarnjra). Besides presenting the qualities of the imƗm, the article shows the procedures of his installation, his rights and his duties, as well as the possibilities of his deposition under certain circumstances. In conclusion, Suleiman argues that the position of the imƗm is presented largely in isolation in ণawwƗ’s writings, as his approach does not consider a political system as a whole and that as a result it leaves many questions unanswered. Moreover, Suleiman holds that ণawwƗ’s writings remain conservative with regard to the possible use of ijtihƗd and views his approach as rather fragmentary. Rana Alsoufi seeks to shed light on the principle of the evolution of legislation in Islamic law (sharƯҵa) in the writings of the Lebanese jurist ৡubতƯ Rajab MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ (d. 1986). After presenting a brief biography of MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ, there follows an overview of MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ’s classification of the authoritative sources in Islam. Alsoufi focuses her approach on the
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questions of what MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ understands as the extraneous sources and what the influence of these sources upon Islamic law might be. She also addresses the question of whether Muslim scholars have tried to reconcile such influences with their treatment of the legal methods applied in Islamic law. In the course of her article, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ’s views on the extent to which the extraneous sources influenced the very evolution of Islamic jurisprudence are reflected upon. Reza Hajatpour’s article focuses on the concept of the ImƗmate as one of the central distinguishing components of the Twelver Shia. After presenting the major theoretical premises that underlie the concept, the article primarily seeks to shed light on the question of whether the Shiite theologians considered the dominion of the ImƗmate to be all-encompassing or restricted to the spiritual sphere. It is argued that there is on the one hand no unified concept of the ImƗmate, and that on the other hand, the theory behind it becomes imprecise when it comes to questions of detail. Hajatpour argues that the quietist position of the Shia does not stand in the way of the creation of a secular or democratic state. Yet it is stated that this does not rule out the Shiite clergy retaining a partial right to interfere with legislation and judicial concerns and that those scholars who advocate such a position generally believe that religious legal understanding is privileged over civil and political legislation. In his article “Authority and Rituals in the Shia IsmƗޏƯlƯ Tradition: An Interpretative Analysis” Yahia Baiza shares the findings of an exploratory interpretative analysis of religious authority and rituals in the Shia IsmƗޏƯlƯ context. Baiza underlines and demonstrates that authority and rituals have a mutually connected and interdependent circularity. The authority legitimises rituals, whereas the rituals routinise and internalise the acceptance and obedience of authority. This paper argues that the notions of authority and religious rituals in Islam as well as in all other religions are not isolated from other socio-historical events. Rather they are considered to have been developed and have evolved over a long period, during which political, historical, theological and socio-economic factors and discourses have played decisive roles. This study concludes that changes in understanding and interpretation of the notion of authority, and in the practices of religious rituals, are inevitable. There are few contemporary Islamic thinkers whose biography and thought reflect so deeply the crucial issues of contemporary Islam as does the life and thinking of the Iranian scholar and philosopher Seyyed Hossein Nasr (b. 1933). According to Ruggero Vimercati Sanseverino, Nasr’s thought distinguishes itself from the ideas of other contemporary Islamic thinkers in his attempt to defuse the opposition between tradition
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and renewal, unity and diversity or historical reality and theological ideality in contemporary Islam with the help of the very resources of the Islamic tradition. Vimercati Sanseverino argues that Nasr postulates the existence of an alternative way which enables Islam to escape the dilemma of having to choose between what he considers an uncritical imitation of the modern West or succumbing to fundamentalism. Vimercati Sanseverino traces how Nasr has engaged with this fatal dilemma, reinforced by the dramatically problematic political, cultural and social situation of Muslim populations throughout the world, by arguing that it can only be solved by a renewal of Islamic intellectuality through the revivification of Islamic philosophical thinking which he describes as the concept of prophetic philosophy. The experience of being (ontology) and the meaning of the term intellect (epistemology) are shown to be the central issues of Nasr’s prophetic philosophy and which he considers to be the core issues with regard to the current crisis of Islamic thought. The final article is again by Abbas Poya and has Mohammad Mojtahed Shabestari’s (b. 1936) works as its central theme. Shabestari is a controversial thinker and the most renowned contemporary Iranian scholar to have developed new methodological approaches to QurގƗnic exegesis. Poya discusses in his paper the development of Shabestari’s approaches to exegesis, as well as the elaboration of his theories on other subjects such as democracy and human rights. Furthermore, Poya’s contribution attempts to show the coherence of Shabestari’s thought. Shabestari’s work on freedom and politics is in alignment with his open approach to QurގƗnic exegesis. His most recent view of the QurގƗn as a contextually-bound narrative is the logical extension of his assumption that the QurގƗn is the speech of the Prophet Muতammad. This assumption, in turn, stands in direct relation to his hermeneutic convictions that every text/oration is influenced by prior knowledge, interests, and expectations of the author/speaker.
References Ess, Josef van. Der Eine und das Andere. 2 vols. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2010. Griffel, Frank. Apostasie und Toleranz im Islam: Die Entwicklung zu alƤazƗlƯs Urteil gegen die Philosophie und die Reaktionen der Philosophen. Leiden: Brill, 2000. øskendero÷lu, Muammer. Fakhr al-DƯn al-RƗzƯ and Thomas Aquinas on the Question of the Eternity of the World. Leiden: Brill, 2002.
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JawraqƗnƯ, Abnj ޏAbd AllƗh al-. al-AbƗܒƯl wa-l-manƗkir wa-l-܈iۊƗ ۊwa-lmashƗhƯr. Edited by ޏAbd al-RaতmƗn al-FaryawƗގƯ. Riyadh: DƗr alৡumayޏƯ, 2002. QaraঌƗwƯ, Ynjsuf al-. “ণadƯth iftirƗq al-umma ilƗ thalƗth wa-sabޏƯna firqa.” Accessed April 2015. http://www.qaradawi.net/new/library2/2822014-01-26-18-52-49/3339-. ShanqƯ৬Ư, Muতammad ibn al-ণasan al-. “al-Shaykh al-Dadaw: ণadƯth aliftirƗq ilƗ thalƗth wa-sabޏƯna firqa lƗ yadullu alƗ l-dhamm. WaghƗyatuhnj kathrat hƗdhihi al-umma.” Accessed April 2015. http://www.okaz.com.sa/okaz/osf/20070802/Con20070802129518.htm. ShƗ৬ibƯ, Abnj IsতƗq al-. al-Iҵti܈Ɨm. Edited by Muতammad ibn ޏAbd alRaতmƗn al-Shuqayr, Saޏd ibn ޏAbd AllƗh Al al-ণumayd, and HishƗm ibn IsmƗޏƯl al-ৡƯnƯ. Riyadh: DƗr Ibn al-JawzƯ, 2008. ৫abarƗnƯ, Abnj l-QƗsim al-. al-Muҵjam al-kabƯr. Edited by ণamdƯ ޏAbd alMajƯd. Riyadh: DƗr al-ৡumayޏƯ, 1994.
SECTION 1: PATHWAYS IN SUNNI THEOLOGY
CHAPTER ONE THE TURKISH QURގƖNIC EXEGETE SÜLEYMAN ATEù AND HIS CONTEMPORARY COMMENTARY OF THE QURގƖN1 ABDULLAH TAKIM
1. QurގƗnic exegesis in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries as a means of renewing the Islamic world The QurގƗn plays a central role in the lives of Muslims. Over the centuries, numerous commentaries of the QurގƗn have been written. Their main purpose was, and still is, to make the QurގƗn more accessible as well as understandable. The exegetes’ aim, in particular, is defined by the task of explaining the divine words to their potential readers. While the exegete him- or herself operates within a particular horizon of knowledge and experience, no interpretation of the QurގƗn can claim exclusive authority. In other words, the interpretation of the QurގƗn is a highly contextual enterprise and, as such, not identical with the Word of God. Thus, entangled with the limitations and particular socio-historical position of the exegete in significant ways, each interpretation turns out to be not only limited in scope and hence relative, but is considerably practice-oriented and therefore always in accordance with the needs of its time and age. 1
Translated from German into English by Zubair Ahmad, revised and enlarged by Abdullah Takim. This article was first published in the journal Cibedo under the title: Abdullah Takim, “Eine neue Koranexegese. Der bekannte türkische Koranexeget Süleyman Ateú und sein zeitgenössischer Korankommentar,” CibedoBeiträge 2 (2009). Zubair Ahmad was kind enough to translate this article from German into English. Afterwards I made modifications (such as the biography of Süleyman Ateú) and revisions and compared the translation with the original and authorised it. Therefore, this text is not an exact translation of its first publication in the journal Cibedo. Finally, I am greatly indebted to my former colleague Dr Rainer Brömer, who was kind enough to read the translation very carefully and to make important corrections, suggestions and comments concerning its content.
The Turkish QurގƗnic Exegete Süleyman Ateú
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The same applies also to the nineteenth and twentieth centuries when a paradigmatic shift occurred regarding Muslim commentaries on the QurގƗn. Confronted with European colonialism, Muslims had to deal with the social, cultural, technological and scientific hegemony of the West. In doing so, it was seen as important not only to keep pace with most of these developments, but to demonstrate the harmony between QurގƗnic content and modern scientific knowledge in a continuous manner—a harmony generally contested by Western thinkers. This development can be seen as a kind of modern apology from the perspective of nineteenth and early twentieth century Muslims. This kind of apology was directed against those, primarily non-Muslim and Western individuals who characterised Islam as anti-progressive and backward. One of the consequences of such an encounter was the emergence of modern commentaries on the QurގƗn. Significant for the QurގƗnic exegesis of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries is its deep connectedness as well as engagement with so-called modern achievements of Europe. New ways of exploring and interpreting the QurގƗn, therefore, were influenced by the scientific, political, cultural and technological hegemony of Europe. In other words, modern commentaries of the QurގƗn display apologetic characteristics which result from the reactions of QurގƗn commentators to the West. Thus, the influence of the West on modern commentaries of the QurގƗn is unmistakable. Modern exegetes of the QurގƗn claim that the true message of the QurҴƗn has not yet been understood. For this reason, they argue, the QurގƗn must be interpreted in a rationalist manner with little attention to the traditions invented and attributed to the Prophet (e.g. weak ۊadƯths). In this sense, the motto of modern exegetes of the QurގƗn can be described as back to the sources, meaning back to the QurގƗn and the authentic ۊadƯths of the Prophet. They argue that this re-orientation will eventually liberate both the QurގƗn and Islam from being tainted by any kind of superstition. The addressees of the modern QurގƗnic commentaries were no longer, as before, primarily other scholars but now included the general population. Hence, a simple language had to be used to explain and communicate the message of the QurގƗn. In parallel, the commentaries on the QurގƗn were written in languages other than Arabic and consequently dealt to a much greater extent than previously with local issues and the problems of Muslims and their respective communities. Finally, modern commentaries on the QurގƗn were also used as a means of spreading reformist ideas.2
2
Cf. A. Rippin, “TafsƯr,” in The Encyclopedia of Religion, vol. 14, ed. Mircea Eliade, 16 vols. (New York: Macmillan, 1987), 242; A. Rippin, “TafsƯr,” in The Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition, Vol. X, ed. P. J. Bearman et al. (Leiden:
14
Chapter One
It is clearly not possible to elaborate on all of the modern commentaries and approaches to the interpretation of the QurގƗn, but one can mention here the commentary written by Muতammad ޏAbduh (d. 1905) and RashƯd RiঌƗ (d. 1935),3 whose work is perceived as prototypical for the modern exegesis of the QurގƗn as well as instrumental in forging the link between traditional exegesis and modernity.4
2. The enlightening QurގƗn or: Anew to Islam According to many Islamic modernists or innovators, the QurގƗn is a book that has always enlightened people and still should do so. For the modernist ShakƯb ArslƗn (1869-1946), for example, the QurގƗn, provided that one understands and interprets it in the right way, is “an enlightened book” and consequently “Islam an enlightened religion”.5 In a short article, Naৢr ণƗmid Abnj Zayd (d. 2010) equally advocates enlightenment through the QurގƗn by using a new method of interpretation. Entitled Interpretations of the QurҴƗn towards an Islamic Enlightenment, Abnj Zayd tries to break with traditional readings, interpretations and approaches to the QurގƗn and argues for a “universal dimension” in the interpretation of the QurގƗn.6 Another exegete whose approaches to and perspective on the QurގƗn resonate with Abnj Zayd’s interest in promoting enlightenment through the QurގƗn is Süleyman Ateú (b. 1933 in Elaz÷, Turkey). One of the most respected as well as controversial Islamic theologians of modern-day Turkey, Ateú is among those who argue for a “new understanding and interpretation” of Islam and the QurގƗn. Ateú was educated according to the classical Islamic educational system and by the age of ten, he had committed the entire QurގƗn to memory. Then he learned Arabic in Elaz÷
Brill, 2000), 87–88; J. J. G. Jansen, The Interpretation of the Koran in Modern Egypt (Leiden: Brill, 1974), 18–19. 3 Cf. Charles C. Adams, Islam and Modernism in Egypt: A Study of the Modern Reform Movement Inaugurated by Muۊammad ҵAbduh (New York: Russell and Russell, 1968), 18–103, 177–204; Albert Hourani, Arabic Thought in the Liberal Age: 1798–1939 (London: Oxford University Press, 1962), 222–44. 4 Cf. Jane I. Smith, An Historical and Semantic Study of the Term ‘IslƗm’ as Seen in a Sequence of QurҴƗn Commentaries (Montana: University of Montana Press, 1975), 183–84, 187. 5 Stefan Wild, Mensch, Prophet und Gott im Koran: Muslimische Exegeten des 20. Jahrhunderts und das Menschenbild der Moderne (Münster: Rhema, 2001), 38. 6 Cf. Nasr Hamid Abu Zaid, “Koraninterpretationen für eine islamische Aufklärung,” Orient Journal 2, no. 1 (2001): 14–15.
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from Hac Muharrem Srr Hilmî Efendi,7 who was also his spiritual guide on the mystical path of the Naqshbandiyya.8 In 1952 he was married and a year later he decided to enrol in the Prayer Leader and Preacher School (ømâm-Hatip Okulu) in Elaz÷ where, in 1960, he completed his training as a prayer leader and preacher (imƗm) with distinction. In the same year, he graduated from high school in Elaz÷. Then he enrolled at the Faculty of Islamic Theology in Ankara, where he completed his studies in 1964. For one year, he worked as a teacher at the Prayer Leader and Preacher School in Elaz÷. During his studies, he served as an imƗm in a number of mosques for four years. After graduating from the Faculty of Islamic Theology, Ateú became affiliated with the same faculty in 1965. He served as an assistant to his previous teacher, Prof. Tayyib Okiç,9 the outstanding ۊadƯth scholar who held the chair of tafsƯr (QurގƗnic interpretation), ۊadƯth (Prophetic Traditions) and fiqh (Islamic law). Okiç supported Ateú both in his student years and during his time as his assistant. Another professor giving Ateú his attention was Hilmi Ziya Ülken, a specialist in Islamic philosophy. Ateú corrected the notes and proofs of Ülken’s works which were written in Ottoman Turkish.10
7
For his biography, see Hac Muharrem Hilmî Efendi, Dîvan- Srrî: Notlarla neúreden Süleyman Ateú (Ankara: Pars Matbaaclk, 1976), 13–23. 8 The Naqshbandiyya, a group which is very widespread in Central Asia and in Turkey, is a mystical path initiated or founded by BahƗ ގad-DƯn Naqshband (d. 791/1389) in Bukhara (Uzbekistan). This path attempts to achieve by means of the silent remembrance of God and deep meditation a purification of the soul which on the other hand leads to the illumination of the inner heart. Worldly affairs should not be neglected in this spiritual development because the balance between mind and body is very important in order to reach God and to experience his love. Irina Tweedie (d. 1999) has shown in her book Daughter of Fire: A Diary of a Spiritual Training with a Sufi Master (Inverness, CA: Golden Sufi Center, 1986) which spiritual stages you have to go through in the Naqshbandiyya in order to reach God. For details, see: Itzchak Weismann, The Naqshbandiyya: orthodoxy and activism in a worldwide Sufi tradition (London: Routledge, 2007); Muhammad Hisham Kabbani, The Naqshbandi Sufi way: history and guidebook of the Saints of the Golden Chain (Chicago: Kazi Publ., 1995); Omar Ali-Shah, The rules or secrets of the Naqshbandi order (Paris: Tractus Books, 1998); Hamid Algar, “The Naqshbandi Order: A Preliminary Survey of its History and Significance,” Studia Islamica 44 (1976): 123–52. 9 Cf. øsmail Baliç, “M. Tayyib Okiç (1902–1977),” øslâm Tetkikleri Enstitüsü Dergisi 7, 1–2 (1978): 330–36; Süleyman Ateú, Makaleler (Istanbul: Yeni Ufuklar Neúriyat, 1996), 119–23. 10 Cf. Hamit Can, “Süleyman Ateú’le yarm yüzyllk yolculuk,” Yeni ùafak Gazetesi 767–769 (7.1.1997–9.1.1997): 2.
16
Chapter One
Ateú received his doctorate in Islamic theology from the University of Ankara in 1968 with a study on Sülemi ve tasavvufi tefsiri11 (al-SulamƯ and his Sufi commentary on the QurҴƗn). In 1969 he did his military service in Adana and in 1971 returned to the faculty in Ankara and studied English. In 1973 he undertook a study tour to Iraq and Egypt and was appointed as an Associate Professor of Islamic Theology, again at the faculty in Ankara as a result of his work on øúârî Tefsir Okulu (The allegorical [mystical] school of interpretation),12 which is still a standard work on this subject in Turkey and has also been translated into Persian.13 At this time, to be awarded the degree of Associate Professor in Turkey, a further academic work was required. Ateú gave a lecture, entitled Kur’ân’ Kerîm’e göre Evrim Teorisi (The theory of evolution according to the QurގƗn)14 in the presence of Professors Nihat Keklik, Nihat Ça÷atay, Tayyib Okiç and Meliha Anbarco÷lu, which had important consequences for his career. This lecture was subsequently published, and when Ateú became President of Religious Affairs of the Republic of Turkey (Diyanet)15 on 16 April 1976, the work was attacked politically and is still today exploited for certain non-academic purposes.16 The academically untenable main allegation is that in this article the author is committed to Darwinian ideas and claims that humans are descended from apes.
11
Cf. Süleyman Ateú, Sülemi ve tasavvufi tefsiri (Istanbul: Sönmez Neúriyat, 1969). 12 Cf. Süleyman Ateú, øúari Tefsir Okulu (Ankara: Ankara Üniv. ølahiyat Fak., 1974). 13 SulaymƗn Ɩtash, Maktab-i tafsƯr-i IshƗrƯ “øúârî Tefsir Okulu” (trans. TawfƯq H. SubতƗnƯ; Tehran: Markaz-i Nashr-i DƗnishgƗhƯ, 1381 [2002]). 14 Cf. Süleyman Ateú, “Kur’ân’ Kerîm’e göre Evrim Teorisi,” Ankara ølâhiyat Fakültesi Dergisi 20 (1975): 127–46. 15 A general overview of this institution is given by øsmail Kara, “Eine Behörde im Spannungsfeld von Religion und Staat: Das Präsidium für Religiöse Angelegenheiten,” in Turkish Islam and Europe: Europe and Christianity as reflected in Turkish Muslim discourse & Turkish Muslim life in the diaspora; papers of the Istanbul Workshop October 1996 = Türkischer Islam und Europa (ed. G. Seufert and J. Waardenburg; Stuttgart: Steiner, 1999), 209–40; see also ø. Yücel, “Diyanet øúleri Baúkanl÷,” Türkiye Diyanet Vakf øslâm Ansiklopedisi 9:455–460. 16 See for example øsmet Miro÷lu, “Kur’ân Bilimleri Araútrma Vakf’nn düúündürdükleri,” Türkiye Gazetesi (10.8.1996). This newspaper article is discussed by Ateú in his book “Yeniden øslâma: Kur’ân- Kerîm’in Evrensel Mesaj (2 vols.; Istanbul: Kur’an Okulu, 1997), 2:270–79”, in which many untrue allegations made by Miro÷lu are corrected.
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Ateú served as President of Religious Affairs for one and a half years, and in 1979 he was appointed Professor of Islamic Theology at the Theological Faculty in Ankara. In the same year, by a decision of the Faculty, he was sent to Germany where he undertook academic studies at the Ruhr-Universität-Bochum and took German language courses. While there, in the same year (1979) he received an invitation from the Imam Muhammad ibn Saud Islamic University and went as a guest lecturer to Saudi Arabia (Riyadh). There he taught the QurގƗn and its exegesis at various faculties. In 1982 he returned to the Faculty of Theology in Ankara, but in the following semester he again went to the Islamic University in Riyadh, where he taught until 1987. Between 1987 and 1988 he gave lessons in tafsƯr (QurގƗnic exegesis) and ta܈awwuf (Islamic mysticism) at the Emir Abdelkader University of Islamic Sciences in Algeria. In 1988 Ateú moved to the 19th May University (19 Mays Üniversitesi) in Samsun (Turkey), teaching tafsƯr and ۊadƯth until 1995. From 1995 to 1999, he lectured at the Theological Faculty of the University of Istanbul (østanbul Üniversitesi). In 2001 and 2002 he taught Islamic theology in the Netherlands, where he became one of the founders of the Islamic University of Europe (Islamitische Universiteit van Europa) in Rotterdam. From 2002 to 2011 he wrote a daily column for the Turkish newspaper Vatan Gazetesi, contributing more than 3000 articles on Islamic theological issues, addressing a whole variety of questions asked by the readers.17 Since June 2011, Ateú has provided answers to readers’ questions on his website.18 He has received various awards and prizes for his books and receives frequent invitations to appear on Turkish television, offering his expertise as well as opinions concerning Islam. In Europe, America and in the Islamic world, he has delivered numerous lectures that have been attentively and critically received. His main research areas remain tafsƯr, ta܈awwuf and fiqh.19
17
Articles by Ateú in this newspaper can be accessed at the following internet address: http://home.gazetevatan.com/vatan2013/yazarlar-detay.asp?wid=31& @@=121&kelime= (12.07.2014). 18 http://www.suleyman-ates.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=section &id=13&Itemid=61 (last accessed 12.07.2014) 19 This biography is a summarised translation of: Süleyman Ateú, Yeni øslâm ølmihâli (Istanbul: Yeni Ufuklar, [1997]), 5–6. For details, see: Süleyman Ateú, Kur’an- Kerîm’in Evrensel Mesajna Ça÷r (Istanbul: Yeni Ufuklar, 1990), 243– 44; Hamit Can, “Süleyman Ateú’le yarm yüzyllk yolculuk,” 2; Hikmet Selçuk, “Prof. Dr. Süleyman Ateú ile Söyleúi,” Kur’ân Mesaj—ølmî Araútrmalar Dergisi
18
Chapter One
Ateú has written and translated more than 100 publications on various theological topics in Islam that continue to be re-printed. Originally in Turkish or Arabic, they have a didactic, apologetic and descriptive style. As to the content, almost all Islamic disciplines are represented, with a focus on tafsƯr, ta܈awwuf and fiqh. His most important and best-known work is Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri (The Contemporary Interpretation of the Sublime QurҴƗn) in 12 volumes, which he completed over a period of twenty years. His life’s work, Kur’ân Ansiklopedisi: Encyclopaedia of the QurҴƗn (Istanbul 1997-2003), consists of 30 volumes. Perhaps for the first time in the history of QurގƗnic exegesis, in this Encyclopaedia Ateú interprets the QurގƗn according to selected terms focused on individual themes. From 1997 to 2000, he published a journal entitled Kur’ân Mesaj (Message of the QurҴƗn), in which he tried to present his ideas in a simple way and position himself vis-à-vis current Islamic issues and questions. Two of Ateú’s works have been translated into German, and one of these also into English.20 He has also written a detailed autobiography.21 It is worth investigating whether this autobiography is the first to have been written by a Muslim theologian in Republican Turkey since 1923. Ateú’s novel exegetical approaches have been analysed in a dissertation by Abdullah Takim.22 Some of these results are presented here. In his 12 volume commentary of the QurގƗn, titled Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri: The Contemporary Interpretation of the Sublime QurގƗn (Istanbul 1988-1992), he rejects superstition and advocates a QurގƗnic enlightenment.23 In his book Yeniden øslâma: Anew to Islam (Istanbul 1997) he brings together many of his original thoughts which he portrayed in detail in his commentary on the QurގƗn. Subtitled Kur’ân- Kerîm’in Evrensel Mesaj (The universal message of the Sublime QurގƗn), this book, according to Ateú, has been written “to show the truths of Islam, the 1 (1997): 66–75; Süleyman Ateú, Bir ömür böyle geçti (2 vols.; Istanbul: Yeni Ufuklar Neúriyat, [2007]). 20 Cf. Süleyman Ateú, Die geistige Einheit der Offenbarungsreligionen (trans. Abdullah Takim; Istanbul: Yeni Ufuklar, 1998). This book has also been translated into English: Süleyman Ateú, “The Spiritual Unity of the Revealed Religions: ølâhi Dinlerin Ruhbirli÷i,” (trans. Abdullah Takm and Holger Brune), Journal of Religious Culture 117 (2008): 1–19; Süleyman Ateú, Die Ziele des Korans (trans. Abdullah Takm; Istanbul: Yeni Ufuklar, 1998). 21 Ateú, Bir ömür böyle geçti. 22 Abdullah Takim, Koranexegese im 20. Jahrhundert: islamische Tradition und neue Ansätze in Süleyman Ateú’s “Zeitgenössischem Korankommentar” (Istanbul: Yeni Ufuklar, 2007). 23 Cf. Süleyman Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri (12 vols.; Istanbul: Yeni Ufuklar, 1988–1992), 4:489 ff.
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19
spiritual unity of the revealed religions, and the enlightened path of the QurގƗn”. Everybody who has made use of his 30-volume Encyclopaedia of the QurҴƗn and has read some of his articles concerning revival in Islam is in no doubt that here, too, Ateú advocates enlightenment through the QurގƗn. In an interview, he stated: At a certain point I noticed that the QurގƗn has not been fully understood. The QurގƗn still remains unexplored. I admit there is a living religion, but this lived religion is basically not a religion of the QurގƗn. What is hereby understood as religion is not what is dealt with as faith in the QurގƗn itself. I, on the contrary, am more interested in strengthening and highlighting the faith of the QurގƗn against superstition as well as demonstrating the pure religion of the QurގƗn, which is based on the QurގƗnic faith itself.24
2.1. The dynamic spirit of the word of God and the universal message of the QurގƗn Süleyman Ateú’s intention in writing his commentary on the QurގƗn was, in simple terms, to liberate it from the various interpretative additions and accretions of the exegetes and to present it authentically as it is.25 Far from innovative, this approach has also been taken by many other Islamic scholars in modern times.26 Annemarie Schimmel, for example, voices the concern of Islamic reformers in the following way: “The reformers— beginning with Shah Wali Allah—knew that among the countless comments, super commentaries and scholia, which had been placed around the QurގƗnic text during the previous centuries, the dynamic spirit of the word of God was stifled and congealed so that the believer had no direct
24
Selçuk, “Prof. Dr. Süleyman Ateú ile Söyleúi,” 68. Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 1:59. 26 Cf. Jansen, The Interpretation of the Koran in Modern Egypt, 97; Navid Kermani, Offenbarung als Kommunikation: Das Konzept waۊy in Na܈r ۉƗmid Abnj Zayds Mafhnjm an-na( ܈܈Frankfurt a. M.: Peter Lang, 1996), 16, 23. In relation to this, Rotraud Wielandt for example, states the following: “What once was originally meant by the testimonies of the book of revelation is often buried under later interpretations and has to be reconstructed by historical research” (Rotraud Wielandt, Offenbarung und Geschichte im Denken moderner Muslime (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner, 1971), 13). Wielandt’s view is also shared by Naৢr ণƗmid Abnj Zayd (cf. Nasr Hamid Abu Zaid, Islam und Politik: Kritik des religiösen Diskurses (trans. Chérifa Magdi, introduction by Navid Kermani; Frankfurt a. M.: dipa-Verlag, 1996), 194 ff.). 25
20
Chapter One
access to it.”27 In addition, Ateú supports the idea that one should develop a critical attitude towards Islamic religious culture. Through this, Ateú believes, Islam can be rethought and reconceptualised. In this way, principles universal with regard to time and location and hence the universal message and dimension of the QurގƗn would be revealed. The QurގƗn is thus reinterpreted; and it is demonstrated that from the standpoint of the QurގƗn there are no problems with accepting human rights and democracy. In other words, an adjustment might be possible through a proper reading and understanding of the QurގƗn. Before attempting this, it is necessary to find one’s way to the true message of the QurގƗn, which has been obfuscated by classic commentaries. That is why Süleyman Ateú criticises the classical discourse among scholars of religions, which actually obscures the true light of the QurގƗn.28 Only by liberating the QurގƗn from the shackles of tradition, while simultaneously appealing to a new understanding of the text, its true face can be revealed. Hence, the true objectives (amaç) and intentions of the QurގƗn must be determined, because it is through these that the good can be differentiated from the bad or forbidden. For Ateú, terms such as renewal (tajdƯd) and independent reasoning (ijtihƗd) are in the foreground of this process, while he rejects blind imitation (taqlƯd), exaggeration and fanaticism in religion.29 According to Ateú, the erroneous interpretation of Islam by scholars of religion is one of the reasons for the Islamic world’s backwardness. It is 27 Annemarie Schimmel, Muhammad Iqbal: Prophetischer Poet und Philosoph (Munich: Diederichs, 1989), 81–82. 28 Süleyman Ateú criticises a particular political-theological discourse tradition in Islamic intellectual history, which has led to the emergence of various schools of law and theology. Early in Islamic history, religious movements have emerged because of political and theological disagreements. This led to divisions of the religious community. As a result, various schools of theology were created later. In the genesis and development of the schools of law political and theological movements also played an important role. If we look more closely into the various schools of theology (e.g. AshޏarƯtes, MƗturƯdites, Muޏtazilites, Shiites), schools of law (e.g. ণanafis, ShafiޏƯs, MƗlikis, ণanbalƯs, Djaޏfaris, Zaydis), philosophical schools of thought and various mystical movements, it becomes, according to Ateú, quite obvious that the biased interpretation of the QurގƗn by these various schools has obscured the true light of the QurގƗn. 29 Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 1:278–79; 3:40–41, 211, 530; 7:84; 11:215–476. See also Süleyman Ateú, “Modernleúme ve Haram Anlayú,” in øslam ve Modernleúme. II. Kutlu Do÷um ølmî Toplants (ed. A. Topalo÷lu; Istanbul: Türkiye Diyanet Vakf, 1997), 143–44; Süleyman Ateú, Kur’ân Ansiklopedisi (30 vols.; Istanbul: KUBA, 1997–2003), 7:220–27.
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21
the narrow, hair-splitting and contradictory interpretation of the QurގƗn by these scholars of religion in particular which is partly responsible for the limitations that Muslim individuals as well as Muslim societies are struggling with. Consequently, this has contributed to stifling of the spirit of the revelation and the inhibition of progress.30 This position is shared by other Islamic modernists as well. Annemarie Schimmel summarises the approach of these modernists as follows: Any reform movement in Islam has to be oriented towards the QurގƗn. […] [The modernists] came to the conclusion that it was the Muslims themselves who over the centuries had piled up a plethora of second- and third-hand literature, commentaries as well as super commentaries around the simple core of the QurގƗn, and by doing so almost choked the living and creative breath of the Holy Book. According to modernists of all strands, it is high time to return to the QurގƗnic revelation as the only basis of Islam [...]; interpreted correctly, the QurގƗn instructs the believer in regards to every possible case concerning the private and the political, the religious and social realm.31
2.2. Returning to the QurގƗn and the actualization of the original QurގƗnic message Ateú’s proposition can be summarised in the following way: In order to develop intellectually, in all social fields, sciences and disciplines, particularly in the natural sciences and the humanities, Muslims must return to the pure QurގƗnic message. But before they can rely on the QurގƗnic message, the revelation has to be understood in a correct manner. This can be described as a return to the QurҴƗn.32 From this argument follows a need both to translate the QurގƗn into other languages and to produce commentaries on it. In the Turkish context, this “return to the QurގƗn” was initiated by Süleyman Ateú and it is precisely this approach that has engendered criticism and praise at the same time. Süleyman Ateú’s approach, investigating the relevance of the QurގƗnic message for Muslims as well as for the whole of humanity in our present time, places the Holy Book at the heart of his theological study. He begins from the QurގƗn alone and not from any other intellectual approach. In other words, Ateú neither reads any kind of modern achievements into the 30
Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 4:534; 7:84. See also Ateú, “Modernleúme ve Haram Anlayú,” 140–41. 31 Der Koran (trans. Max Henning, introduction and commentaries by Annemarie Schimmel; Stuttgart: Reclam, 1992), 21–22. 32 Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 2:425; 4:98; 6:243.
22
Chapter One
QurގƗn nor does he endeavour to find these within the QurގƗn as some other exegetes, and also Muslim engineers, doctors and scientists, have tried to do.33 This latter approach has been criticised by Ateú since, if understood as absolute, this would entail the very possibility of harming, as well as misleading Muslims. Precisely by dint of the changing nature of scientific knowledge, there exists the risk that previous interpretations of QurގƗnic verses might be subject to over-hasty reformulation. Ateú gives the following example to highlight this crucial point: At one stage in the Middle Ages Muslims, with the help of the QurގƗn, tried to prove that the world was flat. After it was scientifically proven that the world was spherical, Muslims applied the same method to search for verses in the QurގƗn which would indicate that the world is round. According to Ateú, people—influenced by the age they live in—try to demonstrate that the knowledge of the times can also be found in the QurގƗn. Instead of doing this, one should understand the original message of the QurގƗn and, by so doing, give the modern Muslims a vade mecum by which they can adapt to their environment. A strong Muslim personality should therefore receive help from a new understanding of the QurގƗn rooted in its original message in order to cope with modern-day requirements. Being of divine origin, the QurގƗn as a message will never lose its radiance. That is why, according to Ateú, it should not be misused as an ideological instrument for certain purposes, be they political or scientific.34 Exactly this has been done for centuries.35 The meaningfulness and purpose of the QurގƗnic revelation has been forgotten. What kind of book is the QurގƗn? For which purpose has it been revealed? Is the QurގƗn, as many claim, a book in which you can find everything you are seeking? In relation to this, Ateú reiterates the following: Everyone found in the QurގƗn what he was looking for, thus the QurގƗn in the hands of the philosophers was a book of philosophy, in the hands of the ‘Brethren of Purity’ (IkhwƗn a܈-܇afƗҴ) and the Esoterists (BƗܒinƯs) a book of riddles, or even a book (full) of secrets; in the hands of the Sufis a 33 This method of interpretation, which is not only practiced by exegetes of the QurގƗn, but commonly applied and advocated by scientists, doctors and engineers, has many supporters in Turkey. For this particular approach to the QurގƗn, named tafsƯr ҵilmƯ (scientific exegesis), see: R. Wielandt, “Exegesis of the QurގƗn: Early Modern and Contemporary,” Encyclopaedia of the QurҴƗn 2:129–31; Wild, Mensch, Prophet und Gott im Koran, 37–38; Celal Krca, Kur’ân- Kerîm ve Modern ølimler (Istanbul: Marifet Yaynlar, 1982); Celal Krca, Kur’ân- Kerîm’de Fen Bilimleri (Istanbul: Marifet Yaynlar, 1984). 34 Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 3:448–49; 5:132–33. 35 Cf. ibid., 4:147.
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mystical book in which every single verse carries seven meanings independently of one another; in the hands of the extreme Shiޏis a book of the denomination that extols the sanctity of ޏAlƯ and his sons; in the hands of the sects like the ۉurnjfƯs and BaktƗshƯs a diviner’s book from whose verses future events can be read through the practice of onomancy (jafr), which is based on calculating characters, which in turn has its roots in the Jewish kabbala; and in the hands of the modernists who have emerged in the last century, it is a book of astronomy, physics, chemistry, and biology. [...] These are all extreme approaches and practices. The aim of the QurގƗn is not to teach the people astronomy and physics or to re-narrate history, but to give them examples from their current surroundings and from the past in order to guide them to the right way.36
2.3. Searching for support in one’s own spiritual heritage (Rückhalt im Eigenen) The above comment by Ateú can be seen as an attempt to explain the true message of the QurގƗn as well as to incorporate Islam into the modern era or rather to islamicise modernity to a certain extent through the QurގƗn. However, one must also note that there is a “large number of interpretations of Islam” available,37 all of them explicitly articulating a claim to truth.38 In writing the commentary, Ateú not only attempts to propose a more contemporary interpretation of the QurގƗn, but he is also interested in conceptualising a modern comprehension of Islam itself, which, in turn, claims to represent a more coherent understanding of the primeval Islam. This approach can be interpreted and explained by Grunebaum’s thesis which defines “modern Islam as a search for cultural identity”.39 Thus, Ateú is searching for the cultural identity of Muslims in the QurގƗn. According to Ateú, it is through the true doctrine of the QurގƗn that Muslims should regain strength and thus resolve their contemporary problems.40 Walther Braune probably would say if he was to describe the approach of Ateú that it is precisely through the QurގƗn that Ateú is searching for “support in one’s own spiritual heritage” (Rückhalt im Eigenen), and that this is why he wants to understand the primary sources 36
Ibid., 1:55. See also ibid., 5:132–33. Jacques Waardenburg, “Islam studied as a symbol and signification system,” Humaniora Islamica 2 (1974), 284. 38 Cf. Jane I. Smith, “Continuity and Change in the Understanding of ‘IslƗm’,” Islamic Quarterly 16 (1972), 121–39; J. Waardenburg, “Mustashriলnjn,” Encyclopaedia of Islam 7:750b. 39 Waardenburg, “Mustashriলnjn,” 7:750a. 40 Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 1:252–53; 5:132–33. 37
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of Islam correctly.41 However, this return to the primary sources of Islam, meaning primarily the QurގƗn, is not a return that stops at the age of the Prophet, which is to say that it is not a “return to the Middle Ages”.42 Likewise, one can illustrate this approach in the words of Asaf A. A. Fyzee, an Indian scholar of Islam. On this point, Fyzee argues: Therefore, to me it is clear, that we cannot go ‘back’ to the Koran, we have to go ‘forward’ with it. I wish to understand the Koran as it was understood by the Arabs of the time of the Prophet only to reinterpret it and apply it to my conditions of life and to believe in it, so far as it appeals to me as a 20th century man.43
2.4. QurގƗnic rationality as a means of criticism of religious tradition Ateú uses the traditional method of exegesis to discuss the different approaches of the exegetes of the QurގƗn. He wants to defeat them with their own weapons. In this way, Ateú develops a QurҴƗnic rationality which, though not presented as a clear-cut theory, is developed along the lines of QurގƗnic study itself, based on the notion that in the QurގƗn there are no contradictions. Hayri Krbaúo÷lu, a well-known theologian from Turkey, discusses Ateú’s lecture on Why one should write a new interpretation of the QurҴƗn and argues that it is in his comments that Ateú has developed a rationality based on the QurҴƗn. Furthermore, according to Krbaúo÷lu, Ateú has carried out pioneering work, most notably in the Turkish context, and remains an example for theologians. Ateú’s method should be refined in order to develop fruitful results within the Islamic sciences so as not to contradict reason.44 According to Ateú and other Muslim theologians, there is an inherent logic to the QurގƗn that is free of contradictions. This logic can be determined by an analysis of the QurގƗn but is also pointed out by the QurގƗn itself. The QurގƗn reminds us of this rationality in the following 41
Cf. Fritz Steppat, “Die politische Rolle des Islam,” in XXI. Deutscher Orientalistentag: vom 24. bis 29. März 1980 in Berlin (ed. F. Steppat; Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner, 1983), 24. 42 Ibid., 36. 43 Asaf Ali Asghar Fyzee, A modern approach to Islam (Bombay: Asia Publ. House, 1963), 94. See also Wielandt, Offenbarung und Geschichte, 159. 44 Cf. Süleyman Ateú, “Kur’an- Kerim Tefsirinin Yeniden Yaplmasn Gerektiren Sebepler,” in Kur’an Nasl Anlamalyz? (ed. KURAV; Istanbul: Ra÷bet Yaynlar, 2002), 157–61 [contribution to a discussion].
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verse: “Do they not think thoroughly about the QurގƗn? Had it been from other than God, they would surely have found therein many contradictions.”45 It is with this QurҴƗnic rationality, that Ateú tries to disclose the contradictions in the commentaries of the QurގƗn as well as in other fields of Islamic learning. By this, he aims primarily to replace this faulty knowledge with the QurގƗnic truths.46 That is why his attitude towards Islamic tradition can be seen as ambivalent. While consciously ready to reject tradition if it contradicts the QurގƗn, he nevertheless remains aware of its importance for legitimising and defining his interpretative approach. It is this admixture of rejection of, and connection to tradition that is highly significant for his commentaries. According to Stefan Wild, it is easy to link new exegetical approaches with tradition because the Islamic exegesis of the QurގƗn involves a plurality of approaches.47 Thus, Ateú wants to exempt Islamic law from burdens that have inhibited the development and progress of Muslims for centuries. This is why, based on the QurގƗn, he dismisses everything that is an obstacle to progress, arguing that the QurގƗn itself is a book that demands progress. The first centuries of Islamic history illustrate that those Muslims who followed the QurގƗn developed and progressed in all fields of knowledge. Therefore, it is important to link oneself to this tradition and spirit,48 something that, in a manner, Europe has done through its encounter with Islam. Finally, knowledge is the common property of mankind from which everyone can benefit. But one should not neglect the religious, ethical and moral values, since these define a civilisation. Thus, Ateú rejects the islamisation of knowledge, which has been proposed by some other contemporary Muslim scholars.49
2.5. The objectives of the QurގƗn and the preconditions for a scientific exegesis of the QurގƗn Ateú points out the principles mentioned in the QurގƗn from which democracy, freedom of expression and conscience, progress as well as human rights 45
QurގƗn 4:82. Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 1:76; 2:329; 9:41. 47 Cf. Wild, Mensch, Prophet und Gott im Koran, 33. 48 Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 5:132–33; 11:357–63. See also Süleyman Ateú, “Kur’an Tefsiri ve Tefsir’de Yöntem,” in 1. Kur’an Sempozyumu: Tebli÷ler—Müzakereler (1–3 Nisan 1994) (ed. M. A. Ersin; Ankara: Bilgi Vakf, 1994), 169–70. 49 Cf. Olaf Farschid, “Das Projekt der Islamisierung des Wissens,” Beiruter Blätter 8–9 (2000–2001): 100–06. 46
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can be derived. Regarding the relationship with followers of other revealed religions and with human beings generally, peace should be at the very centre since the QurގƗn commands us to live in peace with people who do not attack each other. Ateú assumes that through this reconsideration and application of these QurގƗnic values a renewal in all areas of society is possible.50 At this point in his argument, the objectives of the QurގƗn play an important role. According to Ateú, these are the following: 1. The first objective of the QurގƗn is to restore the three foundations of religion. These foundations are a) belief in God, b) belief in the Hereafter, and c) Doing good deeds... 2. The second objective of the QurގƗn is to explain the institution of prophethood to the people... 3. The third objective of the QurގƗn is to make it clear that Islam resonates with human nature and human disposition (fiܒra) and that it is the only religion which is based upon reason, wisdom, and learning... 4. The fourth objective of the QurގƗn is to guarantee social and political unity as well as justice... 5. The fifth objective of the QurގƗn is to protect property... 6. The sixth objective of the QurގƗn is to prevent aggression... a) Fighting is only permissible in order to fend off an act of aggression. To attack those who do not attack is strictly prohibited... b) The aim of war is to prevent violent subjugation, to guarantee the safety of the people, to protect all revealed religions and to reach a point in which religious freedom is guaranteed... c) Peace is always preferable to war... d) In order not to be taken by surprise and able to protect oneself from attacks one should always be prepared for war... e) One should be merciful and magnanimous in times of war... f) The terms and conditions of an agreement are to be observed; the breach of a contract is prohibited... g) The enemy who attacks first and then is defeated is liable to pay a contribution, more commonly known as jizya (poll tax). 7. The seventh objective of the QurގƗn is to ensure the rights of civilisation and society for women...
50
Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 2:127–28; 4:267–69; 11:336–76.
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8. The eighth goal of the QurގƗn is to liberate the people from slavery.51 In sum, Ateú seeks a modernisation that is consonant with the spirit of the QurގƗn. It is clear, therefore, that a groundbreaking change and improvement regarding the political, social and legal order as well as the overall situation in Islamic countries is only possible through a renewed and corrected understanding of the QurގƗn.52 That is why Ateú refers to certain conditions that an exegete of the QurގƗn must fulfil in order to develop a coherent interpretation of the QurގƗn as well as to allow God’s intention, which is manifested in the QurގƗn, to be recognised: 1) The exegete of the QurގƗn must know and be aware of the previous revelations and their contents.53 It is also appropriate that the exegete should have a specialisation in some other Semitic languages in addition to Arabic. 2) The exegete should be familiar with the general context of the place and the specific circumstances of the revelatory processes in particular, meaning that he must know the pattern of thinking as well as values of the people who lived in that time. 3) Furthermore it is necessary that the exegete have a sound knowledge of the history of the revealed religions and the jƗhiliyya (the pre-Islamic time), because thus he can locate the original positions of the QurގƗn. 4) To a certain extent, scientific knowledge is required to explain the relevant verses of the QurގƗn which speak about natural phenomena. 5) He should have knowledge of the traditions of the Prophet Muতammad (ۊadƯth).54 6) He should have sociological knowledge.55 7) Lastly, to interpret the QurގƗn one should have memorised the entire Holy Book, so that one can explain the verses in the concrete historical context of revelation.56
51
Ateú, Die Ziele des Korans, 6–60. Cf. Ateú, “Kur’an Tefsiri ve Tefsir’de Yöntem,” 169–70. 53 Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 1:233. 54 Cf. ibid., 1:52–55. 55 Cf. ibid., 2:94. 56 Cf. Ateú, Kur’an- Kerîm’in Evrensel Mesajna Ça÷r, 82. 52
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2.6. The QurގƗn as a benchmark for the paradigmatic shift in Islamic theology This particular approach to the QurގƗnic text generated both opposition and endorsement in Turkey. Despite vehement resistance, Ateú still considers it necessary to question and rethink—with the QurގƗn as a benchmark and through a scientific approach—the religious knowledge that has been taught over the centuries. This becomes indispensable if one compares some of the principles of faith, which Islamic scholars have filled with specific religious content, with the QurގƗn itself. An impartial and unbiased person or scholar who has dealt intensively with this question can easily see that much of this content is substantially wrong and thus in contradiction to the QurގƗn. Therefore, Ateú argues, religious culture has to be purified and changed with the aid of a scholarly method which is not only closely linked to the QurގƗn but which actually runs through a QurގƗnic filter.57 Thus, in addition to an academic rationality, a QurҴƗnic rationality is needed as well. After elaborating on the erroneous understanding of the QurގƗn, Ateú argues that “Muslims cannot make a scientific and intellectual leap” if erroneous views, interpretations and traditions are not rethought and purified through the QurގƗnic filter. Finally, he argues that “with a population of more than a billion, Muslims are in great need of a new awakening and a scientific leap forward, a modernisation; in other words: a renaissance”. For that to happen, first the religious institutions and theological faculties need to be reformed. Talking about Turkey in particular, Ateú argues that it is precisely within these institutions that “the scholastic spirit has been ingrained” and “the historical heritage taught uncritically”. It is in this setting that “the wrong is presented as the right and the student is not led to the QurގƗn but primarily to an acceptance of the accuracy of the traditions”58. Therefore, Ateú advocates a paradigm shift in Islamic theology that will lead to a re-centring of the QurގƗn. That is the reason why he represents the QurގƗn as “the basic hypothesis of our intellectual edifice”. However, he also admits that the level of education of Muslims is very low and thus there are so many Muslims wallowing in the “swamp of imitation”. In addition, Ateú demands that Muslims should deal critically with the Islamic tradition, meaning that one should not accept anything as 57
Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 4:98, 5:9–10. See also Süleyman Ateú, “Kapanú Konuúmas,” in Tefsirin dünü ve bugünü sempozyumu (22–23 Ekim 1992) (ed. Samsun ølim Yayma ve E÷itim Vakf; Samsun: Kardeúler, 1993), 223– 25. 58 Ateú, Kur’ân Ansiklopedisi, 25:489.
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true simply because Muslim scholars say so or because it is written in Islamic books. He also argues that Muslims should gain knowledge and enlighten themselves in order to develop a critical mind or stance and as a result to be able to separate truth from falsehood. In this way they will be able to reflect upon the QurގƗn in a more impartial way and, in addition, can endeavour to understand it more accurately without being dependent on certain (and maybe erroneous) interpretations of the Book, which they would otherwise absorb from their environment.59
2.7. If you want to get to the source, you must swim against the stream: In search of the true message of the QurގƗn According to Ateú, Muslims are backward because they have moved away from the true message of the QurގƗn. It is not Islam that is held responsible for the backwardness of Muslims, but the erroneous understanding of the QurގƗn and Islam. This view is also represented by the “founding fathers of Islamic reformism”, like Muতammad ޏAbduh (d. 1905) and JamƗl adDƯn al-AfghƗnƯ (d. 1897). Both rejected the explanation of the Muslims’ backwardness given by Ernest Renan (d. 1892). Renan in fact, like many Europeans at that time, had claimed that it was precisely “because of their religion that Muslims were not able to develop intellectually progressive thought in a Western sense. Islam and science as well as Islam and civilisation were basically incompatible”.60 However, Ateú distinguishes between a more traditional Islam61 and an Islam brought by the QurҴƗn and his commentary aims explicitly at representing the Islam of the QurҴƗn. As a result, Ateú has encountered both resistance and success. Ateú believes that his work “has brought about an intellectual revolution within the religious sphere of Turkey”.62 Unlike the major intellectual and hermeneutical shifts introduced and elaborated by Fazlur Rahman (d. 1988), Mohammed Arkoun (d. 2010) and Naৢr ণƗmid Abnj Zayd (d. 2010), Ateú’s approach, in fact, has been more fruitful for a specifically Turkish context and has led to new discussions on the QurގƗn, its understanding and possible approaches towards it. This becomes apparent as soon as one recognises the various discussions in the Turkish public sphere as well as the amount of QurގƗnic symposia conducted right after the publication of his commentary of the QurގƗn and where Ateú had to 59
Cf. ibid., 25:487. S. Conermann, “Reformislam,” Kleines Islam-Lexikon: Geschichte, Alltag, Kultur 1:260–61. See also Wild, Mensch, Prophet und Gott im Koran, 38. 61 Cf. Steppat, “Die politische Rolle des Islam,” 24–25. 62 Ateú, Kur’ân Ansiklopedisi, 25:485. 60
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justify himself against the main currents and schools of Islam in order to be successful. For if you want to get to the source, you must swim against the stream.
3. A God of mercy and the spiritual unity of the revealed religions 3.1. The Contemporary Interpretation of the Sublime QurҴƗn by Süleyman Ateú and the discussions in the Turkish public sphere In his publication Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri (The Contemporary Interpretation of the Sublime QurҴƗn), Ateú claimed in 1988 that Jews and Christians can go to paradise, too, provided they meet certain criteria. Generating a great deal of public and theological discussion within Turkish society, this thesis resulted in various critiques and diatribes aiming at defending “the true Islam” against the dangerous claims propagated by Ateú. The main criticism put forward by many theologians and other public intellectuals in Turkey was, and still is, that in arguing that Jews and Christians could freely enter paradise, Ateú rejects the classical position of Islamic theologians, according to which the religious scriptures of Jews and Christians have been abrogated by the revelation of the QurގƗn and are no longer valid. That is to say, Judaism and Christianity belong to a historical past, and as religions they no longer have validity. The only way for Jews and Christians to enter paradise is to convert to Islam and practice Islamic principles. This kind of exclusivist reading of the QurގƗn can still be found today.
3.2. Abraham as a symbol of Islam and the other revealed religions But what is the attitude of the QurގƗn towards the People of the Book? Is Ateú the only commentator on the QurގƗn, in the whole of Islamic history, to have made such claims? Are there any (Western or non-Western) scholars who might be in agreement with Ateú’s position? If one interprets verses of the QurގƗn concerning the revealed religions by using other verses of the QurގƗn which are closely related to these verses (tafsƯr alQurҴƗn bi-l-QurҴƗn), the QurގƗn, according to Ateú, favours a more inclusivist position regarding the other revealed religions (i.e. primarily Judaism and Christianity). This position can be summarised as follows: Since there is only one merciful God and all revealed religions have the same divine origin, the essence of all religions sent by God is the same.
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This essence is equated with Islam. Islam means believing in the Oneness of God (tawۊƯd) and surrendering to Him voluntarily. Identified not only as the master of a nation or a people but as the Lord of all creatures, the whole of creation becomes a manifestation of God’s love and mercy. For this reason, the whole of creation is permeated by God’s mercy and therefore immersed in the ocean of mercy. But the mercy of God as perceived by humans should be understood only as a fraction of what God really possesses. For God, according to the QurގƗn, is not only the God of mercy, but also the God of love. For that reason, Ateú says that God has not created mankind in order to burn it in Hell. That is why Ateú reiterates the QurގƗnic position according to which God “has prescribed for Himself mercy”63 and he reminds us that the compassion and mercy of God embraces “all things”.64 Islam, thus, is a religion of mercy and compassion which itself is present in human nature. Wherever there are people, there is also Islam. It is of course possible that people might distort Islam, a failure that is the result of human frailty. It is precisely for this reason that prophets have been sent to mankind to remind it of, and so to restore the original and natural constitution of man, namely Islam.65 Therefore, according to Ateú: All the prophets have proclaimed Islam. It is not only the designation (name) for the religion proclaimed by the Prophet Muতammad, but ‘Islam’ is the common name of the religion revealed by God to all the prophets from Adam up to the Prophet Muতammad. In the Koran, particularly the prophet Abraham figures as the symbol of Islam.66
3.3. Abraham, Moses, Jesus and other prophets have proclaimed Islam According to the QurގƗn, Abraham has the characteristic of a Muslim and is therefore described in the QurގƗn as a Muslim. He was a true believer in the sense that he was a true monotheist.67 In addition, Abraham becomes a Muslim in the sense of devotion, surrender and submission:
63
QurގƗn 6:54. QurގƗn 7:156. 65 Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 7:20–22. 66 Ibid., 11:341–42. See for the English translation Ateú, “The Spiritual Unity of the Revealed Religions,” 8. 67 Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 2:59. 64
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Chapter One When his Lord said to him, “Be a Muslim (surrender)!” He said, “I have surrendered (aslamtu) to the Lord of the Worlds.” And Abraham exhorted his sons, and Jacob, “O my sons, God has chosen this religion for you, so do not die unless you have surrendered (muslimnjn) (to God).” Or were you witnesses when death approached Jacob, and he said to his sons, “What will you worship after Me?” They said, “We will worship your God, and the God of your fathers, Abraham, Ishmael, and Isaac; One God; and to Him we have surrendered (muslimnjn).”68
Abraham and his descendants are explicitly called muslimnjn in these verses, or stated otherwise, they designate themselves as Muslims by practicing this act (i.e. act of faith or surrender) itself. This shows, according to Ateú, that all revealed religions have the same designation and that the missions of the prophets are equal, namely they all believed in the One God and worshipped only Him.69 In the following verse, other prophets and messengers are mentioned, and it is said that the message of these prophets is the same. The followers of this religion are called muslimnjn, and one should make no distinction between these prophets: Say, “We believe in God; and in what was revealed to us; and in what was revealed to Abraham, and Ishmael, and Isaac, and Jacob, and the Tribes; and in what was given to Moses and Jesus; and in what was given to the prophets from their Lord. We make no distinction between any of them, and to Him we surrender (muslimnjn).”70
The Pharaoh, who lived during the time of Moses and converted to Islam before his death, is called by the QurގƗn a Muslim, or more precisely, refers to himself as a person who has become Muslim.71 From this, one can argue that Moses was a Muslim, too: “And We brought the Children of Israel across the sea. Pharaoh and his troops pursued them in rebellion and hostility. Until, when he was about to drown, he said, ‘I believe that there is no God except the One the Children of Israel believe in, and I am one of the Muslims (those who surrender to God’s Will)’.”72 In the following verse, the disciples of Jesus also refer to themselves as muslimnjn. Thus, those disciples who believed in the message of Jesus are
68
QurގƗn 2:131–33. Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 1:242; 4:490. 70 QurގƗn 2:136. 71 Cf. Ateú, Yeniden øslâma, 1:15. 72 QurގƗn 10:90. 69
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true Muslims.73 Therefore, Jesus is also a Muslim: “And when I inspired the disciples, (saying): Believe in Me and in My Messenger, they said: We have believed, so bear witness that We have surrendered (muslimnjn).”74 The following verse makes it clear that God has always referred to the believers as Muslims; thus, the followers of the Prophet Muতammad are called Muslims, too:75 “And strive for God with the endeavour which is His right. He has chosen you and has not laid upon you in religion any hardship; (follow) the faith of your father Abraham. He (God) has named you Muslims before and in this (Book).”76
3.4. Can Jews and Christians, according to the QurގƗn, also enter Paradise? The above verse 78 from the snjra 22 of the QurގƗn clarifies, according to Ateú, that Islam is not a religion of the Meccan prophet which entered history in the 7th century, but has been with all of the prophets all the time. The core of all revealed religions represents the Islamic concept of tawۊƯd par excellence. Therefore, all prophets are carriers of the same truth of revelation, namely that of monotheism.77 The reason why the QurގƗn speaks of the Jews and Christians as true believers is precisely because both denominations believe in the one God.78 According to the QurގƗn, Ateú writes, the People of the Book are not required to abandon their religion completely but to abandon such beliefs as are contrary to monotheism, and thereby return to the true Islam.79 In fact, the QurގƗn speaks about the main faith groups that were present at that time in the Arabian Peninsula (Jews, Christians, Sabians and Muslims) and the conditions which are required for them to enter paradise: “Those who believe, and those who are Jews, and Christians, and Sabians—any who believe in God and the Last Day and do right—surely their reward is with their Lord, and there shall no fear come upon them neither shall they grieve.”80
73
Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 4:491. QurގƗn 5:111. 75 Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 4:493. 76 QurގƗn 22:78. 77 Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 4:491. 78 Cf. ibid., 4:492, 504. 79 Cf. ibid., 4:505. 80 QurގƗn 2:62 and 5:69. 74
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Sabians: The expression Sabians (܇ƗbiҴnjn), which occurs three times in the QurގƗn (Q. 2:62; 5:69; 22:17), refers probably to a community of faith which has close ties to Islamic principles. However, from the context of these three verses it is not entirely clear which community at the time of the Prophet Muতammad can be designated as such. Commonly, four different communities are related to the Sabians: 1. the Mandaeans (a Baptist sect), 2. the ۉanƯfs (monotheists residing in Mecca and the surrounding area), 3. a monotheistic community that was living in Mosul or Harran and who did not have or know any scriptures and prophets, 4. a community that worshipped the stars and to which the prophet Abraham was sent in order to guide it to the right path.81 Verse 2:62 of the QurގƗn, which is reiterated in 5:69, plays a significant role regarding the attitude of the QurގƗn towards the People of the Book. This verse has been translated and interpreted differently by various commentators and translators. The Christian theologian and QurގƗn commentator Adel Theodor Khoury, the Islamic modernist Fazlur Rahman, the nineteenth century Islamic reformer Muতammad ޏAbduh and the contemporary commentator on the QurގƗn, Süleyman Ateú, discuss the above verse in the same light as I have done.82 Classical commentators as well as some Turkish translators of the QurގƗn understand and translate this verse with additions in a somewhat different light: “Those who have believed (before you, i.e. Muۊammad, in prophets, that is to say) those from the Jews, and Christians, and Sabians who believe in God and the Last Day in (the right way) and do right— surely their reward is with their Lord, and there shall no fear come upon them neither shall they grieve.”83 The expression those who believe, which occurs in this verse, is a fixed term in the QurގƗn and refers primarily to Muslims at the time of the Prophet Muতammad—and thus incorporates his immediate followers. However, this expression is translated on the basis of a well-known 81
Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 1:175–76. See also Rudi Paret, Der Koran. Kommentar und Konkordanz (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1989), 20–1 [Comment to QurގƗn 2:62]; Daniel Chwolson, Die Sabier und der Sabismus (2 vols.; Amsterdam: Oriental Pr., 1965), 2:555–70; Jane D. McAuliffe, “Exegetical identification of the ৡƗbiގnjn,” The Muslim World 72,2 (1982): 95–106. 82 Cf. Adel Theodor Khoury, “Kommen Muslime in den Himmel? Gelangen Christen ins Paradies?,” in “Gottes ist der Orient—Gottes ist der Okzident”: Festschrift für Abdoldjavad Falaturi zum 65. Geburtstag (ed. U. Tworuschka; Köln: Böhlau, 1991), 493–94; Fazlur Rahman, Major Themes of the QurҴƗn (Chicago: Bibliotheca Islamica, 1980), 166. 83 QurގƗn 2:62.
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traditional interpretation of this verse as “those who have believed (before you, i.e. Muۊammad, in prophets)”. Thus, Muslims are excluded from the promise. The promise is then only for faithful Jews, Christians and Sabians who lived before the prophecy of Muতammad, that is, in the period between Jesus’s death and the appearance of Muতammad, a period during which according to Islamic belief no prophets appeared. In this way, today’s faithful Jews, Christians and Sabians are also excluded from the promise, because according to this understanding this verse refers only to the time without prophets. According to this interpretation and understanding of the QurގƗn, Judaism, Christianity and other religions have been abrogated since the preaching of Islam by Muতammad. Subsequently, the only way for Jews or Christians to enter paradise lies in turning to Islam and rejecting their former religion. This view is, however, incompatible with the syntactic structure of the verse itself, because it contains an enumeration of Muslims, Jews, Christians and Sabians, and they are promised entry into paradise if they meet certain conditions. A temporal constraint is not included in the verse, so that these conditions are still applicable to today’s Muslims, Jews, Christians and Sabians. Unfortunately, this notion and understanding of the verse is very much overshadowed by the above-mentioned interpretative additions. According to this verse, only those adherents of monotheistic traditions are allowed to enter paradise who believe in God without associating partners to Him, who believe in the Hereafter and who do good deeds.84 Adel Theodor Khoury discusses these issues from a Christian85 and Muslim86 point of view, concluding the following: “If that is so, then we, Christians and Muslims, each in his own view, have the hope that one day we may meet together in God’s peace. Perhaps it may also be possible to begin already here on earth.”87 MawlƗnƗ Abnj l-WafƗ ގThanƗ ގAllƗh AmritsarƯ (1868-1948), who wrote an Urdu commentary on the QurގƗn and was part of the Indian renewal movement Ahl-i ۉadƯth, also shares with some others the position of Süleyman Ateú. He argues that “all believers in God and the Last Day
84
Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 1:175; 3:34; 4:505. Khoury, “Kommen Muslime in den Himmel? Gelangen Christen ins Paradies?”, 486–92. 86 Ibid., 492–96. 87 Ibid., 496. 85
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and all who do righteous deeds, whatever religion of the world they may belong to, certainly will be saved.“88
3.5. How can the QurގƗn, which is the essence of all revealed religions and books, suspend the validity of other Holy Scriptures? The QurގƗn cannot have abrogated (naskh) other Holy Scriptures as claimed by most of the classical exegetes of the QurގƗn. According to Ateú, this is because: The essence of all the religions revealed by the One God—Allah—is in harmony. The Torah, the Gospel and the Koran are revelations that confirm each other. Due to the concurrence of their essence the Koran refers to the Holy Scriptures revealed before it with respect, and it invites the People of the Book to obey the commandments of their Holy Scriptures correctly.89
The main difference between the original Judaism, Christianity and Islam is, primarily, the language of the message and the legal system (sharƯҵa).90 Therefore, the QurގƗn says: “For each We have appointed a law and a traced-out way.”91 The law, revealed for the respective religious community, applies only to that particular community. These jurisdictions do not suspend but confirm each other.92 The majority of the classic exegetes argue that the QurގƗn abrogates (naskh) previous Holy Scriptures as well as their legal rulings (aۊkƗm).93 In addition to this, the Torah and the Gospels circulating in the 7th-century Arabian Peninsula, according to this classical 88
Christian W. Troll, “A note on the TafsƯr-i ThanƗގi of ThanƗ AllƗh Amritsari and his criticism of Sayyid Aতmad KhƗn’s TafsƯr-i Aতmadi,” Islamic Culture 59 (1985), 32. 89 Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 11:337. See for the English translation Ateú, “The Spiritual Unity of the Revealed Religions,” 3. Richard Walzer says the following concerning the essence of the revealed religions: “The Koranic conception of faith is, in all its essential features, in harmony with contemporary Jewish and Christian ideas.” (Richard Walzer, Greek into Arabic. Essays on Islamic Philosophy (London: Bruno Cassirer, 1963), 3); see also Wielandt, Offenbarung und Geschichte, 25. 90 Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 4:510. 91 QurގƗn 5:48. 92 Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 4:510. 93 Cf. ibid., 4:498.
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understanding, had been distorted and most classical commentators of the QurގƗn advocate this thesis. However, this theory can be refuted according to Ateú by the following: First of all, there is no QurގƗnic proof for the abrogation of the previously revealed Holy Scriptures and revealed religions. On the contrary, the QurގƗn confirms the previous Scriptures and protects them.94 In addition, the Torah and the Gospels were not distorted at the time of the Prophet Muতammad as most exegetes of the QurގƗn claim. Ateú refers to various verses from the QurގƗn to prove this point.95 The validity of the Torah, for example, is pointed out in the following verse: “All food was allowed to the Children of Israel, except what Israel (Jacob)96 forbade for himself before the Torah was revealed. Say, ‘Bring the Torah, and read it, if you are truthful’.”97 The term Bring the Torah and read it, invites the People of the Book to read the Torah in order to check what is said in this verse of the QurގƗn. Ateú comments on this verse as follows: Now if the Torah present in the hands of the Jews is not the Torah the QurގƗn refers to, then how can be the Jews asked by the QurގƗn to bring the Torah and read it? How can these people bring a Torah that does not exist? That is, because the Torah exists the QurގƗn can (logically) command to bring and read out of it.98 This not only shows that the Torah present in the hands of the Jews at the time of the Prophet Muতammad is valid, but that it is precisely the Torah to which the QurގƗn refers as tawrƗt.99 The attributes of the Torah are presented in the following verse: “Verily, We sent down the Torah, wherein is guidance and light.”100 The same is said about the Gospel: “And We caused Jesus, son of Mary, to follow in their footsteps, confirming that which was (revealed) before him in the Torah, and We gave him the Gospel, wherein is guidance and light, confirming that which was (revealed) before it in the Torah—a guidance and an admonition for the God-fearing.”101
94
Cf. ibid., 4:498, 501. Cf. ibid., 4:498–502. 96 Israel is the name given to the Prophet Jacob in the Book of Genesis 32:28. It means, among other things, he who struggles or strives with God, or God strives/fights: “The man said, ‘Your name will no longer be Jacob but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with men—and you have won’.” 97 QurގƗn 3:93. 98 Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 4:499. 99 Cf. ibid., 4:500. 100 QurގƗn 5:44. 101 QurގƗn 5:46. 95
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Now, if the QurގƗn praises and confirms both the Gospel and the Torah as scriptures and describes them as offering “guidance and light”, they cannot have been abrogated. On the contrary, they confirm each other.102 However, what the QurގƗn does demand from the People of the Book is the observance of their commandments and principles. In relation to this, the QurގƗn states the following: And how do they make you a judge when they have the Torah, wherein is God’s judgement (for them)? Yet even after that they turn away, and these are not (true) believers.103 Let the People of the Gospel judge by that which God has sent down therein.104 If only the People of the Book would believe and ward off (evil), surely We should remit their sins from them and surely We should bring them into Gardens of Delight. If they had observed the Torah and the Gospel and that which was sent down to them from their Lord, they would surely have been nourished from above them and from beneath their feet. Among them there are people who are moderate, but many of them are of evil conduct. ... Say: O People of the Book! You have no ground to stand upon till you observe the Torah and the Gospel and that which was revealed to you from your Lord. That which is revealed to you from your Lord is certain to increase the obstinate rebellion and disbelief of many of them. But grieve not for the disbelieving people. Those who believe, and those who are Jews, and Sabians, and Christians—whoever believes in God and the Last Day and does right—there shall no fear come upon them neither shall they grieve.105
If we analyse these verses in Arabic precisely, we will find that they are in the present tense. If we look at the context, the verbs (they make you a judge, till you observe the Torah) and the imperative (let the People of the Gospel judge) express a current state in the lifetime of the Prophet Muতammad. In addition, the formulation “And how do they make you a judge when they have the Torah, wherein is God’s judgement (for them)?” shows a simultaneity of events. In other words, all this happened in the presence of the Prophet Muতammad. Hence, the Torah as found during the lifetime of the Prophet must have been valid—otherwise the verse would
102
Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 4:500. QurގƗn 5:43. 104 QurގƗn 5:47. 105 QurގƗn 5:65–66; 68–69. 103
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make no sense. Ateú comments on the above-mentioned verses in the following way: If, when the QurގƗn was revealed, the Torah and the Gospel were not only present in a distorted state, but the original scriptures were missing and, furthermore, as classical commentaries argue, the QurގƗn abrogated previous Holy Scriptures altogether, then the QurގƗnic commandment to keep the provisions of the respective revealed religions would make no sense at all. How can the QurގƗn command both the Jews and the Christians, generally speaking the People of the Book, to observe the provisions mentioned in the Torah as well as in the Gospel and in that which was sent down to them from their Lord if it is only present in a distorted way? How can something be observed if it does not exist or has been abrogated?106
3.6. “The People of the Book are not all alike ...”: Monotheism and the QurގƗn’s criticism of Christians Pointing out that previous Holy Scriptures are still valid, the QurގƗn, according to Ateú, nevertheless differentiates between the People of the Book. Having an ambivalent attitude towards the People of the Book, the QurގƗn praises the righteous ones among them while vehemently criticizing adherents of the doctrine of the Trinity and accusing them of disbelief (kufr).107 The first group is, for example, represented in the following way:108 They are not all alike. Of the People of the Book there is an upright community (people) who recite the signs of God in the night-time, falling prostrate (before Him). They believe in God and the Last Day, and they command what is right and forbid what is wrong, and they strive with one another in good works. These are of the righteous. And whatever good they do, will not be rejected. God is aware of those who ward off (evil).109
An analysis of these verses makes it clear that the verbs are in the present tense. Thus, according to Ateú, there is, at least from a philological 106
Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 4:501. Kufr literally means ingratitude. See for a detailed analysis of this Qur’anic term: Toshihiko Izutsu, God and Man in the Qur’an: Semantics of the Qur’anic Weltanschauung (Tokyo: The Keio Institute of Cultural and Linguistic Studies, 1964; new ed., Kuala Lumpur: Islamic Book Trust, 2002), 42–60. 108 Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 4:503. 109 QurގƗn 3:113–15. 107
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point of view, no other possibility than to understand them as speaking about the monotheistic People of the Book who were present during the lifetime of the Prophet Muতammad. The verbs recite, falling prostrate, believe, command, forbid, strive and do show clearly that the People of the Book are pious people and that these activities were pursued during Muতammad’s time.110 Hence, one can say that the QurގƗn does not demand that the People of the Book shall abandon their religions, but they should comply with the provisions of their own scriptures.111 The second group is, for example, represented in the following way:112 Surely, they have disbelieved who say, “God is the Messiah, the son of Mary.” But the Messiah said, “O Children of Israel, worship God, my Lord and your Lord. Verily, whoever associates others with God, God has forbidden him Paradise, and his dwelling is the Fire. The unjust (wrongdoers) have no helpers.” Surely, they have disbelieved who say, “God is the third of three.” But there is no deity except the One God. If they do not refrain from what they say, verily, a painful torment will befall those among them who disbelieve.113
The QurގƗnic demand towards the People of the Book can be clarified through the following verse:114 O People of the Book! Do not exaggerate in your religion, and do not say about God except the truth. The Messiah, Jesus, the son of Mary, is only a Messenger of God, and His Word that He conveyed to Mary, and a Spirit from Him. So believe in God and His messengers, and do not say, “Three.” Refrain—it is better for you. God is only one God. Glory be to Him—that He should have a son. To Him belongs everything in the heavens and the earth, and God is enough to trust in.115
Some of the People of the Book are not only called on to abandon the doctrine of the Trinity, which according to Ateú is not found in the Gospels,116 but the QurގƗn invites them to unite in the belief in the one
110
Cf. Süleyman Ateú, “Mawqif al-QurގƗn al-karƯm min al-adyƗn as-samƗwƯya alukhrƗ,” Kur’ân Mesaj—ølmî Araútrmalar Dergisi 22–24 (1999–2000), 32. 111 Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 4:505. 112 Cf. ibid., 4:504. 113 QurގƗn 5:72–73. 114 Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 4:505. 115 QurގƗn 4:171. 116 Cf. Ateú, Yüce Kur’ân’n Ça÷daú Tefsîri, 8:261–65.
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sole God:117 “Say: O People of the Book! Come to an agreement between us and you: that we worship none but God, and that we associate no partners with Him, and that none of us shall take others for lords beside God.”118 According to Ateú, the terms islƗm or muslim mentioned in the QurގƗn express a universal attitude of the believers towards God which is part of every age and place. Thus, Islam can be understood and interpreted, according to Ateú, as a universal religion of humanity. This is also the reason why the People of the Book are encouraged to return to the true Islam. By returning to the true Islam they return to the essence of their own religion. Those who fulfil this obligation certainly go to Paradise. Commenting on the plurality of religions, Adel Theodor Khoury comes to the same conclusions as Ateú: Nevertheless, Muতammad knows that this [i.e. guidance] depends, in the first place, on the will of God and that the foremost task of the Islamic community is to expand their privileged position by competing with other communities about good things.119 Thus, the QurގƗn recognizes a practical plurality of religions. And inasmuch as religions are guiding their adherents towards the belief in God and a willingness to serve Him, they may lead the faithful to salvation.120 The QurގƗn, for example, invites the Jews and the Christians to follow their respective laws: “Say: O People of the Book! You have no ground to stand upon till you observe the Torah and the Gospel and that which was revealed to you from your Lord.”121 The QurގƗn specifies that the Torah is still valid for the Jews122 as is the Gospel for the Christians123 and the QurގƗn for the Muslims;124 and concludes with the remark: “For each of you We have appointed a law and a traced-out way. Had God willed, He could have made you a single community, but He tests you through what He has given you. So vie one with another in good works. To God is your return, all of you; then He will inform you of what you had disputed.”125 But already in this life the believers of the acknowledged religions can hope to receive God’s salvation: “Those who believe, and those who are Jews, and Christians, and Sabians—any who believe in God and the Last Day and do right—
117
Cf. ibid., 4:505. QurގƗn 3:64. 119 Cf. QurގƗn 2:148; 5:48. 120 Cf. QurގƗn 2:62 and the commentary. 121 QurގƗn 5:68. 122 QurގƗn 5:43–44. 123 QurގƗn 5:46–47. 124 QurގƗn 5:48. 125 QurގƗn 5:48. 118
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In summing up it can be said that, according to Süleyman Ateú, Judaism, Christianity and Islam designate only certain manifestations of Islam within a particular time. These religions do not exclude or abrogate but confirm one another. The advent of Islam through the Prophet Muতammad had a restorative and complementary function. If the adherents of revealed religions believe in the same and one God, the Last Day, and do right, they will enter paradise. The QurގƗn has been revealed to unite the whole of humanity in the essence of the religion of God. The QurގƗn is thus the essence of all revealed religions and books.
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—. “Eine neue Koranexegese. Der bekannte türkische Koranexeget Süleyman Ateú und sein zeitgenössischer Korankommentar.” CibedoBeiträge 2 (2009): 51–60. Topalo÷lu, A., ed. øslam ve Modernleúme.: II. Kutlu Do÷um ølmî Toplants. Istanbul: Türkiye Diyanet Vakfi, 1997. Troll, Christian W. “A note on the TafsƯr-i ThanƗގi of ThanƗ AllƗh Amritsari and his criticism of Sayyid Aতmad KhƗn’s TafsƯr-i Aতmadi.” Islamic Culture 59 (1985). Türkiye Diyanet Vakf, ed. Türkiye Diyanet Vakf øslâm Ansiklopedisi. 44 vols. Istanbul: Türkiye Diyanet Vakf øslâm Araútrmalar Merkezi, 1988-2013. Tweedie, Irina. Daughter of Fire.: A Diary of a Spiritual Training with a Sufi Master. Inverness, CA: Golden Sufi Center, 1986. Tworuschka, U., ed. “Gottes ist der Orient—Gottes ist der Okzident”: Festschrift für Abdoldjavad Falaturi zum 65. Geburtstag. Cologne: Böhlau, 1991. Waardenburg, Jacques. “Islam studied as a symbol and signification system.” Humaniora Islamica 2 (1974): 267–85. —. “Mustashriলnjn.” In The Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition, Vol. VII. Edited by C. E. Bosworth et al., 735–53. Leiden: Brill, 1993. Walzer, Richard. Greek into Arabic.: Essays on Islamic Philosophy. London: Bruno Cassirer, 1963. Weismann, Itzchak. The Naqshbandiyya: Orthodoxy and activism in a worldwide Sufi tradition. London: Routledge, 2007. Wielandt, Rotraud. Offenbarung und Geschichte im Denken moderner Muslime. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner, 1971. —. “Exegesis of the QurގƗn: Early Modern and Contemporary.” In Encyclopaedia of the QurҴƗn. Vol. 2. Edited by Jane D. McAuliffe, 124–42. Leiden: Brill, 2001–2006. Wild, Stefan. Mensch, Prophet und Gott im Koran: Muslimische Exegeten des 20. Jahrhunderts und das Menschenbild der Moderne. Münster: Rhema, 2001. Yayma, Samsun ølim and E÷itim Vakfi, eds. Tefsirin dünü ve bugünü sempozyumu (22–23 Ekim 1992). Samsum: Kardeúler, 1993. Yücel, ø. “Diyanet øúleri Baúkanl÷.” In Türkiye Diyanet Vakf øslâm Ansiklopedisi. Vol. 9. Edited by Türkiye Diyanet Vakf. 44 vols., 455– 60. Istanbul: Türkiye Diyanet Vakf øslâm Araútrmalar Merkezi, 1988-2013.
CHAPTER TWO FAITH, POLICY AND THEOLOGY: THE THEOLOGICAL STANCE OF THE SYRIAN SCHOLAR MUণAMMAD SAޏƮD RAMAঋƖN AL-BNj৫Ʈ (1929-2013) ABBAS POYA
I The Syrian Shaykh Muতammad SaޏƯd RamaঌƗn al-Bnj৬Ư receives little attention from academics and researchers in the Western world, despite the fact that he was highly recognized in the Arab world as a religious authority. His intellectual writings have had a great influence beyond Syria’s borders. In German scholarly literature, al-Bnj৬Ư is rarely handled. Nonetheless, there have been more detailed studies published on al-Bnj৬Ư’s writings in the works of other authors,1 for instance, Sandra Houot, Felicitas Opwis und Andreas Christmann. In the writings of these scholars one notices that an attempt has been made to examine al-Bnj৬Ư’s writings, with special regard to their socio-cultural and rhetorical aspects. Houot views al-Bnj৬Ư as an ‘instrument’ of Syrian president BashshƗr al-Asad’s regime who sought to use modern communications technology (such as the internet) to spread al-Asad’s ideas as broadly as possible.2 In his own words, al-Bnj৬Ư’s ascribes to Muslims the right and authority for 1
Exemplified in: Elsayed Elshahed, “Der Islam in Europa: Ein Beitrag zur Wahrnehmungsproblematik der Religions- und Meinungsfreiheit,” in Der Islam in Europa.: Zwischen Weltpolitik und Alltag, ed. Urs Altermatt, Mariano Delgado and Guido Vergauwen (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2006), 314. 2 Cf. Sandra Houot, “Culture religieuse et média électronique: Le cas du cheikh Muhammad al-Bnj৬Ư,” Maghreb-Mashrek 178 (2003–04): 77–78.
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finding the ‘truth’ and striving for ‘unity’. However, at the same time he also claims for himself the right to the ‘truth’ and instrumentalises demands for ‘unity’ as a means of countering Kurdish nationalism, for example.3 Felicitas Opwis also describes al-Bnj৬Ư as a conservative thinker. She conducted a jurisprudential examination of the legal term al-ma܈laۊa (the common good), which is to be understood as the theoretical basis for many reform attempts in Islamic law and concluded that al-Bnj৬Ư fosters a traditional understanding of ma܈laۊa and opposes any overly strong attempts at modernisation.4 For example, al-Bnj৬Ư rejects using the principle of ma܈laۊa to enact legislation unless it is also ensured that such an aspect is legitimately founded in the QurގƗn or Sunna and/or supported by analogy.5 Al-Bnj৬Ư is of the opinion that the intellect alone is not sufficient for understanding SharƯҵa regulations, and therefore, it is not permitted to determine ma܈laۊa according to the customs of human beings or an individual’s or a group’s emotional considerations. Instead, ma܈laۊa must be supported by pertinent statements from the QurގƗn or Sunna, or by proper argument based on analogy.6 When enacting legislation, it is permitted to take various customs into consideration provided this does not affect the set of regulations in the religious texts. For example, al-Bnj৬Ư states that the manner/value in which the mahr (dower or gift to the bride from her husband) is determined may vary—however, a mahr must in all cases be established.7 In contrast to the views of Houot and Opwis, Andreas Christmann reaches a more positive and encouraging judgement about al-Bnj৬Ư. In his article ‘Ascetic Passivity in Times of Extreme Activism’, Christmann characterizes al-Bnj৬Ư as a modern and a reform-inclined Sufi, who ‘scorns the social institution of mystical brotherhoods and stresses the ethical teachings and psychological effects of Sufism’.8 In a further contribution in ‘Islamic Scholar and Religious Leader’, he examines al-Bnj৬Ư’s sociopolitical positions and his role as a religious leader. Christmann determines here that al-Bnj৬Ư is an acknowledged scholar who rejects 3
Ibid., 82, 84–85. Cf. Felicitas Opwis, “Maৢlaতa in Contemporary Islamic Legal Theory,” Islamic Law and Society 12, no. 2 (2005): 208. 5 Ibid., 214. 6 Ibid. 7 Ibid., 219–20. 8 Andreas Christmann, “Ascetic Passivity in Times of Extreme Activism.: The Theme of Seclusion in a Biography by al-Buti,” in Studia Semitica: The Journal of Semitic Studies Jubilee Volume, ed. P. C. Sadgrove et al. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 293. 4
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violent and sectarian groups and recognises the sovereignty of the nation state. Furthermore, he points out what he sees as the positive aspects of alBnj৬Ư, such as his stand for social justice and solidarity, and that instead of hate and violence he endeavours to steer his public towards the attainment of knowledge. According to Christmann, many Syrians saw al-Bnj৬Ư as a representative of a modern and self-confident Islam. Christmann also concludes that in his role as a leading Muslim personality, al-Bnj৬Ư appeared to strive to present Islam as a ‘modern’, ‘rational’, ‘enlightened’ and ‘self-confident’ religion.9 The article presented here focuses on al-Bnj৬Ư’s theological positions and views in order to determine to what extent his theological approach influenced his convictions about socio-political issues and law. After providing a summary of his biography, I will first present a selection of his theological statements, and then use them in an attempt to place his views accordingly. This, of course, will place al-Bnj৬Ư’s views in relation to the tradition of Islamic theology. A discussion about al-Bnj৬Ư’s theological views on socio-political affairs and legislation will follow. In conclusion, a determination will be made as to whether al-Bnj৬Ư’s theological stance contributes in anyway, as Andreas Christmann indicates, to a modern, rational and enlightened Islam—and if so, to what extent.
II Muতammad SaޏƯd RamaঌƗn al-Bnj৬Ư10 was born in 1929 to a Kurdish family in the village of JƯlkƗ on the island of Butan which is part of Turkey. At the age of four, his family migrated to Syria. After several moves within Syria, the family finally settled in the Kurdish district of Rukn al-DƯn in Damascus. Al-Bnj৬Ư’s father, MullƗ RamaঌƗn, was religiously educated and lived devoutly. The latter’s intention in migrating to Syria was to remove his family from the process of secularisation that was taking place in Turkey which began when Ataturk came to power. AlBnj৬Ư’s father was also his first teacher—and, according to al-Bnj৬Ư, he remained his greatest role model even after he died in 1990. Until 1953,
9 Andreas Christmann, “Islamic Scholar and Religious Leader: Shaikh Muhammad Saޏid Ramadan al-Buti,” in Islam and Modernity: Muslim Intellectuals Respond, ed. John Cooper, Ronald Neuter and Mohamed Mahmoud (London: I.B. Tauris, 1998), 76 and 78. 10 For biographical data on al-Bnj৬Ư cf. ibid., 58–60; Opwis, “Maৢlaতa in Contemporary Islamic Legal Theory,” esp. 208–14 and the link: http://www.naseem-alsham.com/ar/pages.php?page=mufty&pg_id=1992.
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al-Bnj৬Ư received instruction from his father and other scholars in QurގƗnic exegesis, the biographies of the prophets, rhetoric, logic and law. After a three-year study at al-Azhar University, he returned to Damascus in 1956 where at first he taught religion to student teachers. His career as an academic scholar began in 1960 when he obtained the position of an assistant professor at the newly founded SharƯޏa Faculty at al-Azhar University. At that time, the dean of the Faculty, Muৢ৬afƗ l-SibƗޏƯ (d. 1964), was also the leader of the Syrian Muslim Brotherhood. Al-Bnj৬Ư undertook a further educational journey to Cairo and received his doctoral degree from al-Azhar University in 1965. Thereafter, he taught the following subjects at the Faculty of SharƯޏa: comparative law, legal methodologies, religious studies, the biographies of the prophets and Islamic theology. Al-Bnj৬Ư described himself as a universal scholar of Islam. According to him, Islam is comprised of three supporting pillars: Faith (ҵaqƯda), with which Islamic theology (ҵilm al-kalƗm) is concerned; the SharƯޏa, which covers Islamic jurisprudence (fiqh); and morality (akhlƗq), which deals with ‘ethics’ (ҵilm al-akhlƗq). The most important of these is faith, which functions as the underlying basis of support for all believers. Al-Bnj৬Ư reiterated that without the faith the entire structure would fall apart.11 Based on al-Bnj৬Ư’s mastery of the three major subjects in Islamic studies one can argue that this elevated him as a universal scholar of Islam, at least in the eyes of his supporters. Al-Bnj৬Ư not only spoke about the thematic areas mentioned above in the university setting. Greatly contributing to the latter’s popularity were his talks on television and radio and in various mosques. On his homepage (which in currently cannot be accessed) he set forth his position on all religious questions imaginable.12 Additionally, he wrote works designed to be accessible to readers who are not trained Muslim theologians. Thus, alBnj৬Ư’s ideas spread widely. On the academic level, he wrote works concerning all three of the supporting pillars of Islamic belief referred to above; in addition, these publications have been used as text books in a number of universities across the Islamic world. In the areas of law, or legal methodology, I will mainly refer to the two following works: The Jurisprudence of the Prophetic Biography (Fiqh al-sƯra al-nabawiyya)13
11
Cf. Muতammad SaޏƯd RamaঌƗn al-Bnj৬Ư, KubrƗ al-yaqƯniyyƗt al-kawniyya (Damascus: DƗr al-Fikr, 1982), 70. 12 Meanwhile, his positions and statements appear on facebook: http://www.facebook.com/Sh.AlBouti (01.02.2012). 13 Muতammad SaޏƯd RamaঌƗn al-Bnj৬Ư, Fiqh al-sƯra an-nabawiyya, 7th ed. (Damascus: DƗr al-Fikr, 1977). Al-Bnj৬Ư’s books are often reprinted. In the
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and Criteria for General Well-being in the Islamic SharƯҵa (ڱawƗbi ܒalma܈laۊa fƯ-l-sharƯҵa al-islƗmiyya).14 Regarding the area of ethics, I have selected al-Bnj৬Ư’s five-volume work Wisdom from ҵAܒƗҴ. Comment and Analysis (al-ۉikam al-ҵaܒƗҴiyya. Shar ۊwa-taۊlƯl),15 while in reference to al-Bnj৬Ư’s theological views, I consult the tenth edition of his book The Greatest Cosmic Certainties (KubrƗ l-yaqƯniyyƗt al-kawniyya).16 It was this ability to address a wide range of matters concerning Islam not only as a specialist speaking to experts, but also to readers outside the academic and professional circle, in a generally understandable manner, that distinguished al-Bnj৬Ư from other contemporary Syrian scholars and also brought him great respect in many Arab states. Politically, al-Bnj৬Ư always cultivated a position of loyalty to the Syrian state. He and his family always maintained close, personal contacts with the Muslim Brotherhood and some of its leading personalities. However, al-Bnj৬Ư always spoke out against the use of violence during political protests. He was against both the Salafiyya and the WahhƗbiyya, which he absolutely rejected and considered secular/foreign to Islam. Currently, the term Salafiyya is notoriously associated with a number of militant groups who have been fighting to establish an Islamic state that they believe to be in line with the early period of the Prophet Muতammad and his companions (܈aۊƗba).17 The WahhƗbiyya is another group that calls for going back to the early days of Islam. The WahhƗbƯs have declared that they have a strict textbased understanding, and therefore, propose a different interpretation of
following, information is provided from the particular editions which are available to me. 14 Muতammad SaޏƯd RamaঌƗn al-Bnj৬Ư, ڱawƗbi ܒal-ma܈laۊa fƯ-l-sharƯҵa alislƗmiyya, 2nd ed. (Damascus: Muގassasat al-RisƗla, 1973). 15 Muতammad SaޏƯd RamaঌƗn al-Bnj৬Ư, al-ۉikam al-ҵaܒƗҴiyya: Shar ۊwa-taۊlƯl, 3rd ed. (Damascus: DƗr al-Fikr, 2003). 16 See footnote 11. 17 There have been many analyses of the Salafiyya movement. Three works are provided here as examples: Werner Ende and Pessah Shinar, “Salafiyya,” in The Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition, Vol. VIII, ed. C. E. Bosworth et al. (Leiden: Brill, 1995); Henri Lauzière, “The construction of salafiyya.: Reconsidering Salafism from the perspective of conceptual history,” International Journal of Middle East Studies 42 (2010); fourteen short biographies of Salafi thinkers and leaders can be found in Roel Meijer, ed., Global Salafism: Islam’s New Religious Movement (London: Oxford University Press, 2009), 430–47.
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Islam. As a result, they have rejected the tradition of Islamic theology because they claim to base their arguments on reasoning.18 Al-Bnj৬Ư’s position in regard to the ruling Syrian Baޏth regime was one of increasing closeness—and he was reproached for this by WahhƗbƯ and SalafƯ groups, by followers of the Muslim Brotherhood and also by secular opponents of the regime. His position was that the political leadership in power is to be recognised—and not fought against. At the same time, he always managed to maintain a certain distance from public officials. Following the death of Aতmad KuftƗrnj, the former Grand Mufti of Syria, in 2004, many observers assumed that al-Bnj৬Ư would be offered the position. Instead, this was granted to the much younger and far less academically-established scholar Aতmad Badr al-DƯn ণassnjn (b. 1949). The fact that al-Bnj৬Ư avoided holding official positions in Syria helped strengthen his position amongst the population as an independent religious authority until the start of the civil uprising in Syria when mass protests against the government erupted in the capital Damascus and largest city Aleppo on 15 March 2011. Since the violent conflicts have overtaken political and daily life in Syria, the front-lines between regime loyalists and opponents have irreversibly hardened and many people have adopted an ‘either/or’ stance. As al-Bnj৬Ư remained publicly on the side of the regime, he lost a great deal of popularity. On 21 March 2013, he was killed in a suicide attack in the al-ImƗn Mosque in Damascus. His assassination marked a new peak in the current Syrian conflict.
III Al-Bnj৬Ư presented his theological views as generally being the precepts of faith held by the majority of Sunni scholars, ahl al-sunna wa-l-jamƗҵa. But when one examines the statements al-Bnj৬Ư presented in his work on theology, KubrƗ l-yaqƯniyyƗt al-kawniyya, he appears to represent a mixture between AshޏarƯ and MƗturƯdƯ theological teachings. The AshޏarƯ school dates back to Abnj l-ণasan al-AshޏarƯ who died in Baghdad in 324/935-36. Contrary to his original position, al-AshޏarƯ spoke out against the rationally oriented theology of the MuޏtazilƯ position. In doing so, he argued vehemently for the absolute will of God and the principle of predestination. According to al-AshޏarƯ, God can do all—even when 18
On the WahhƗbiyya movement c.f.: Guido Steinberg, Religion und Staat in Saudi-Arabien: Die wahhabitischen Gelehrten 1902-1953 (Würzburg: Ergon, 2003) and Natana J. DeLong-Bas, Wahhabi Islam: From Revival and Reform to Global Jihad (London: Oxford University Press, 2007).
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according to human understanding it seems impossible or unjust. A thing is deemed good because it is God’s will. Thus, the question of which criteria are used to determine future punishments or rewards in the life to come cannot be answered or judged using human standards.19 A contemporary of al-AshޏarƯ, Abnj Manৢnjr Muতammad al-MƗturƯdƯ, came from Samarkand in present-day Uzbekistan. Before his death in 333/944, he also fought against the MuޏtazilƯ position and was a proponent of the principle of predestination. Al-MƗturƯdƯ recognized, however, that human beings also act according to the principle of free will for which they will be rewarded or punished.20 AshޏarƯ-MƗturƯdƯ ideas were also explicitly cultivated by al-Bnj৬Ư. In doing so he was confronted—just as the classical proponents of this position were—by the question that results from these teachings: How can the contradiction between people being subject to predestination by God on the one hand, and having (God-given) free will on the other, be resolved? Or put more concretely, how can people be punished by God for a particular deed when one is convinced that nothing in the universe happens unless it is God’s will? Influenced by al-MƗturƯdƯ, al-Bnj৬Ư solved this problem by differentiating between ‘the will of God’ (irƗda) and ‘God’s affirmation.’ Although bad deeds occur according to the principle of predestination or God’s absolute power, and therefore also by God’s will—they do not, however, have God’s approval.21 Al-Bnj৬Ư also buttresses the AshޏarƯ-MƗturƯdƯ position in regard to another central question in Islamic theology, namely, whether God’s words (the QurގƗn) are ‘created’ or ‘un-created’. In the QurގƗn, it is explicitly stated that God spoke directly to the prophets (among others, Moses),22 however it is also stated that the word of God is not created. The MuޏtazilƯ’s objection to the idea that a spoken word cannot be created was negated by al-Bnj৬Ư in that he repeated the MƗturƯdƯ argument that differentiates between a ‘word’ being a spoken tone on the one hand, and an expression of content on the other. Only in this second sense can it be said that God speaks. As the case of God’s word does not concern spoken tones, the question of whether it is created or not is irrelevant.23 Al-Bnj৬Ư had clear perceptions about what is inherent in the fundamentals of Islam—and explains this in detail. Commencing with the 19
See Ulrich Rudolph, “Ratio und Überlieferung in der Erkenntnislehre al-AšޏarƯ's und al-MƗturƯdƯ's,” ZDMG 142 (1992). 20 Cf. ibid. 21 Cf. Bnj৬Ư, KubrƗ al-yaqƯniyyƗt al-kawniyya, 155–58. 22 wa-kallama AllƗhu MnjsƗ taklƯman, QurގƗn 4:164. 23 Cf. Bnj৬Ư, KubrƗ al-yaqƯniyyƗt al-kawniyya, 124–25.
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belief in the one and only God, he also includes belief in angels (malƗҴika)24 and demons (jƗnn)25 in the fundamentals of Islamic belief. Nowhere does he express doubt or allow for the possibility of opinions that differ from his own. He strictly excludes other theological arguments and rigorously claims that all Muslims agree unanimously that the belief in the existence of demons is one of the main consequences of believing, and further, that doubting the existence of demons leads to apostasy and results in one becoming a non-believer (in Islam).26 This is even more surprising, as he himself accused the extremist groups of being too quick to declare others to be ‘non-believers’ (kƗfir, pl. kuffƗr) without due cause in order to justify their own violent actions.27 Evaluating and classifying people takes place to a certain extent in many Islamic theological discussions and papers. Al-QƗঌƯ ޏAbd al-JabbƗr, one of the most prominent MuޏtazilƯs of the eleventh century, listed in his work The Explanation of the Five Principles of Faith (Shar ۊal-u܈njl alkhamsa),28 those principles which he believed to be indicative of true faith. These are: al-tawۊƯd (the unity of God), al-ҵadl (the righteousness [of God]), al-waҵd wa-l-waҵƯd (promising and warning), al-manzila bayn almanzilatayn (the station in-between believers and unbelievers, namely sinners) and al-amr bi-l-maҵruf wa-l-nahy ҵan al-munkar (the command to do good and forbid evil). He then separated opponents of his MuޏtazilƯ position into three categories: non-believers (kƗfir), sinners (fƗsiq) or ‘errant’ (mukhܒiҴ).29 Those who questioned the Islamic—or rather the MuޏtazilƯ—tenets of faith were considered non-believers. If taken strictly, his definition would cast many Muslims into the category of kƗfir, because, for example, they do not believe in the principle of ҵadl, which according to the MuޏtazilƯs, represents one of the main tenets of Islam and states that God can act only righteously. On the other hand, the prominent AshޏarƯ scholar Abnj ণƗmid al-GhazƗlƯ (d. 505/1111) included in his theological work The Middle Way in Faith (al-Iqti܈Ɨd fƯ-l-iҵtiqƗd) a special chapter entitled ‘Which groups of believers must be declared to be non-
24
Cf. ibid., 278–82. Cf. ibid., 285–88. 26 Ibid., 280. 27 This topic is handled extensively in his book: Muতammad SaޏƯd RamaঌƗn alBnj৬Ư, al-Salafiyya marۊala zamƗniyya mubƗraka lƗ madhhab islƗmiyya (Damascus: DƗr al-Fikr, 1988). 28 Cf. Bnj৬Ư, KubrƗ l-yaqƯniyyƗt al-kawniyya, 269. 29 Cf. al-QƗঌƯ ޏAbd al-JabbƗr, Shar ۊal-u܈njl al-khamsa, ed. ޏAbd al-KarƯm ޏUthmƗn (Cairo: al-Maktabat al-WahhƗbiyya, 1965), 125–26. 25
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believers (man yajibu takfƯruhu min al-firaq)’.30 Here for example, he depicts those who argue against the physical resurrection as nonbelievers—despite their professing belief in God and the prophets.31 This practice of using theology as a means of ostracising individuals or groups can also be observed in al-Bnj৬Ư’s writings. In his often quoted theological work KubrƗ l-yaqƯniyyƗt al-kawniyya, he wrote an extra chapter entitled ‘Renunciation of the Islamic faith and its causes (al-ridda wa-asbƗbuhƗ)’. Al-Bnj৬Ư states that a believer is in danger of turning apostate in the following cases: -
by making any statement that disputes any Islamic fundamental principle of belief or clear Islamic regulation or commandment; by performing any act that contradicts any Islamic fundamental principle of belief or clear Islamic regulation or commandment; by mocking or scorning any Islamic fundamental principle of belief or clear Islamic regulation or commandment.32
Al-Bnj৬Ư wrote in detail in his work what his precepts of Islamic faith are and strictly excluded the possibility of any opinions not in conformity with those of his own. For him, someone who does believe in angels, for example, but argues against angels having wings, is not a Muslim.33 Just how uncompromising al-Bnj৬Ư’s theological position is, is evident in the following examples. According to al-Bnj৬Ư, believing that Jesus will be resurrected on Judgment Day is one of the indisputable tenets of anyone professing to be of the Islamic faith.34 Based on this, he condemned the well-known reformer and Azhar scholar Maতmud Shaltnjt (d. 1963), who had questioned this assertion, and described Shaltnjt’s argumentation as ‘running around blindly’ (al-takhabbu ܒal-aҵmƗ).35 If one follows this line of al-Bnj৬Ư’s argumentation, then he would have to declare Shaltnjt at risk of being acknowledged an apostate. Then al-Bnj৬Ư sees the resurrection of Jesus on the Day of Judgment as an indisputable Islamic fundamental principle that is confirmed not only by the QurގƗn, but also by other traditional means.36 Further, there are numerous passages where to 30
Cf. Abnj ণƗmid al-GhazƗlƯ, al-Iqti܈Ɨd fƯ-l-iҵtiqƗd (Beirut: DƗr al-AmƗna, 1969), 221–27. 31 Ibid., 223. 32 Bnj৬Ư, KubrƗ l-yaqƯniyyƗt al-kawniyya, 367–68. 33 Ibid., 275 and 313. 34 Ibid., 322. 35 Ibid., 327–28. 36 Cf. ibid., 323–27.
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disagree with one of these convictions means one has renounced, or is in danger of renouncing, one’s faith in Islam.37 It should, however, be noted that in another passage, Al-Bnj৬Ư reported that shortly before his death, Shaltnjt repented and turned back to God.38 Al-Bnj৬Ư is also just as harsh on a pioneer of the modern reform movements in Islam, namely, Muতammad ޏAbduh (d. 1905). He accuses ޏAbduh of taking positions that were influenced by the West and of issuing fatwas that went against the consensus of Muslims and were not in accordance with the fundamental principles of the Islamic faith. As an example, al-Bnj৬Ư cites various of ޏAbduh’s QurގƗnic interpretations and commentaries on laws. ޏAbduh was one of the scholars under pressure to interpret the QurގƗn in a manner that was considered both scholarly and appropriate to his day. In doing so, he interpreted the terms used in the QurގƗn abƗbƯl (flock) and ۊijƗra min sijjƯl (rocks of clay) as a plague of smallpox (wabƗҴ al-jadarƯ). The issue being dealt with here is from the QurގƗn, snjra 105, in which a southern Arabian kingdom’s military campaign against Mecca during pre-Islamic times is referred to: ‘1. Seest thou not how thy Lord dealt with the Companions of the Elephant? 2. Did He not make their treacherous plan go astray? 3. And He sent against them flights of birds, 4. Striking them with stones of baked clay. 5. Then did He make them like an empty field of stalks and straw, (of which the corn) has been eaten up.’39 It seems clear that ޏAbduh was of the opinion that it was not plausible for the elephants and their riders to be eliminated by an act of God—and not through natural means. Rather, he attempted to interpret the story metaphorically. Al-Bnj৬Ư found this to be impermissible. Further, according to al-Bnj৬Ư, ޏAbduh permitted, to a certain extent, profits made from usury and he also considered that partaking of meat from animals that had been slaughtered by Christians was not a cause for concern. AlBnj৬Ư goes on to depict how other scholars and writers who were under ޏAbduh’s influence attempted to interpret Islamic religious beliefs in a modern way and in doing so, clashed with unambiguous statements in the QurގƗn, other well-established traditions and the Muslim consensus. For al-Bnj৬Ư, such attempts were not in harmony with the Islamic fundamental concepts, and appeared aligned with cultural colonialism.40 As al-Bnj৬Ư declared such positions un-Islamic, he consequently had to declare ޏAbduh a non-believer. 37
Cf. ibid., 280 and 367. Ibid., 331, footnote 1. 39 The English translation is from Yusuf Ali. 40 Cf. ibid., 226–28, and Bnj৬Ư, al-Salafiyya marۊala zamƗniyya mubƗraka lƗ madhhab islƗmiyya, 234, footnote 1. 38
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At the same time, in his judgements about various precepts of belief in Islam, al-Bnj৬Ư strives for ‘caution’ (ۊƯܒa) and to make as little use as possible of the instrument of takfƯr (accusing someone of having renounced Islam).41 On the one hand, he sets many of his own controversial convictions among the unquestionable tenets of faith, and commandments (u܈njl wa-aۊkƗm lƗ majƗla li-l-ikhtilƗf fƯhƗ).42 Included in these is the anthropomorphic view of God in the hereafter, the belief that the caliphate consists only of the four righteous caliphs and the belief in the authority of the so-called founders of the Sunni schools of jurisprudence.43 On the other hand, al-Bnj৬Ư avoids passing a judgement of apostasy on his opponents who believe differently in such matters—indeed he even warns against doing so.44 Nevertheless, he describes their positions as being sinful (fisq), figments of their own creation (ibtidƗҵ) and aberrations (inۊirƗf).45 For the most part, AshޏarƯ-MƗturƯdƯ theology is that of the Sunni majority and except for a brief period at the beginning of the Abbasid Dynasty, it has played a dominant role in Islam. This is perhaps another reason for al-Bnj৬Ư’s more conciliatory stance towards those in positions of political power, especially insofar as this stance does not outwardly violate the Islamic custom/rule. Even al-AshޏarƯ in his day determined that the citizens under Muslim rulers were to petition for righteousness and were not allowed to take up arms against their rulers.46 Of course, the position not to stand up against an unjust ruler, which is shared by the majority of the Sunni ҵulamƗҴ, stems from the historical experiences that many Muslims went through. As Werner Ende rightly states, many Muslim scholars—in light of countless destructive and mostly religiously-justified armed conflicts—take a stance that is expressed by the following saying: “Better a hundred years of tyranny than one day of civil war.” In this maxim, which is cited—in light of the recent events—to this day, many scholars endeavour “to find arguments for at least the outward acknowledgement of an illegitimate and eo ipso unjust ruler.” Under circumstances of distress, the lesser evil is preferred. “Accordingly, the great theologian and jurist al-GhazƗlƯ compares being subjected to a tyrant with a human being who eats carrion (which is prohibited in the SharƯҵa) 41
Cf. ibid., 110. Ibid., 99. 43 Ibid., 100–101, 103. 44 Cf. ibid., 108 and 110. 45 Ibid., 108. 46 Cf. Joseph Schacht, Der IslƗm mit Ausschluss des QorҴƗns (Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr, 1931), 60. 42
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out of necessity, so as to avoid starvation. Accordingly, al-GhazƗlƯ demands obedience even towards the unjust rulers.”47 Al-Bnj৬Ư made no secret of the fact that he supported stability and the continued existence of the current political conditions. He attended many celebrations that took place amongst those close to the late ণƗfi al-Asad and recently, he was often present at the public appearances of BashshƗr al-Asad. Much to the dismay of regime opponents, including the Muslim brotherhood, upon the death of ণƗfi al-Asad, al-Bnj৬Ư delivered a eulogy to high-ranking funeral guests. In his talk, he praised Asad’s achievements, going so far as to claim that Asad’s actions and positions had been supported and inspired by God.48 In principle, al-Bnj৬Ư assumes that ‘only a strong nation state can guarantee the best path for a true Islamic civilization.’49 In a fatwa on his internet page, al-Bnj৬Ư reiterated this position by stating that ‘Islam is both religion and state’ (al-islƗm dƯn wadawla). According to al-Bnj৬Ư, the important factor is that Muslims must live in a unified Islamic state and whether the state’s leader is called a caliph, an imƗm or a president is of secondary concern.50 Even with the latest political unrest in Syria that has already claimed thousands and thousands of civilian lives, al-Bnj৬Ư remained firmly against the opposition in favour of the current political system in power. While many recognised scholars in Syria51 and renowned religious authorities in the Islamic world have spoken out against the brutal practices of the Syrian regime, al-Bnj৬Ư accused the rebels of trying to seize the support of the believers through messages that lack religious authority. Al-Bnj৬Ư claimed that the rebels were trying to plunge the country into chaos and civil war.52 In order to make the rebels vulnerable to attack based on religious grounds, al-Bnj৬Ư claimed that many of them neither pray nor even 47
Werner Ende, “Gerechtigkeit als politisches Ordnungsprinzip im Islam,” in Islam und Rechtsstaat: Zwischen Scharia und Säkularisierung, ed. Birgit Krawietz (Sankt Augustin: Konrad-Adenauer-Stiftung, 2008), 19–35, quote from 27. 48 http://www.abubaseer.bizland.com/refutation/read/f24.doc (02.02.2012); also the now deceased previous MuftƯ of Syria, Shaykh Aতmad KuftƗrnj, required the people of Syria to follow the official political policies of BashshƗr al-Asad. cf. http://www.saowt.com/forum/showthread.php?t=7406 (02.02.2012). 49 Christmann, “Islamic Scholar and Religious Leader,” 76 and 78. 50 http://www.bouti.com/fatawas.php?PHPSESSID=121ab1f868687c8c0d1fa9f1ca 706a94&id=337&lvl=2&page=2. (12.03.2011); meanwhile the link to the homepage is no longer accessible. 51 Cf. For example, the so-called scholars in the following internet address: http://www.addustour.com/ViewTopic.aspx?ac=\OpinionAndNotes\2011\07\Opini onAndNotes_issue1359_day03_id338579.htm#.ToWP-Ow4e1c. (29.09.2011). 52 http://www.fromsyria.com/index.php/syria-news/9250.html (03.02.2012).
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know what praying actually implies.53 Just as the current MuftƯ in Syria, Badr al-DƯn ণassnjn has now done, al-Bnj৬Ư claimed that the opposition was receiving support from foreign countries.54 In one of his last statements, alBnj৬Ư described the public protests as ‘the most dangerous form of what is religiously unlawful (akhܒar anwƗҵ al-muۊarramƗt)’.55
IV Through this brief article, my purpose has been to sketch out some of alBnj৬Ư’s theological views, to examine one aspect not discussed in previous analyses of al-Bnj৬Ư’s writings and also to put into perspective the description of him as having been an enlightened and moderate thinker. Prior to the recent insurrection in Syria, the following traits and views characterised al-Bnj৬Ư: 1. Comprehensive scholarship which allowed him to take a position on the most varied Islamic religious questions; 2. rejection of groups prepared to use violence and subversive activities; 3. recognition of the state’s sovereign power, and 4. a concept of Islam that manifests itself as strictly traditional. These characteristics gave al-Bnj৬Ư significant religious authority that was acknowledged by many Muslims in Syria, other Arab nations and Muslims in the diaspora. Further, he was highly regarded in Islamic academic circles, especially by those concerned with religious themes. When al-Bnj৬Ư is viewed only in light of his integrative position vis-àvis Syrian officialdom, particularly in regard to the country’s sociopolitical policy, then he can be depicted as having a ‘moderate’ and ‘enlightened’ stance as he condemned the use of violence by citizens against sovereign secular states. In his understanding, there was no place for dissenting opinions even when they came from other recognised Muslim scholars. Al-Bnj৬Ư’s theological stance could also have been one reason for his strict interpretation of law. In his works, he attempts to restrict open legal interpretation. It is generally known that under the principle of ma܈laۊa and in its broad sense, the term reason (ҵaql), scholars may view the SharƯҵa in its original context, and therefore, understand and interpret it more flexibly. Al-Bnj৬Ư, however, sought to restrict this practice inasmuch as he criticised and rejected the so-called ‘liberal’ interpretations made under ma܈laۊa and refused to incorporate ma܈laۊa in his legal decisions, 53
Ibid. http://www.assabeel.net/assabeel-essayists/40904-html (03.02.2012). 55 http://sns.sy/sns/?path=news/read/36439 (03.02.2012). 54
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even though he was unable to corroborate this by direct reference to the QurގƗn, the Sunna or analogical argument. In contrast, al-Bnj৬Ư emphasised that without unambiguous support from the (religious) texts, the intellect has no relevance when it comes to evaluating SharƯҵa provisions. In principle, he made use of pure reason for his own purposes in justifying the literal interpretations of the texts. Already back in 1984, Mohammed Arkoun spoke critically of al-Bnj৬Ư and two other scholars who took a similar approach, namely Anwar al-JundƯ and Muতammad al-GhazƗlƯ: “If this [so-called] modern Islamic reason seeks to obtain a theoretical level of reflection, then such generalisations and extreme simplifications make it lose any form of believability.”56 A rigorous or fanatical view should not be a cause for worry or concern as long as such a view is that of an individual and remains theoretical in nature. The problem first begins when it is attempted to implement such a view in society—and this is what al-Bnj৬Ư called for. As to al-Bnj৬Ư’s theological stances, he concluded the following: “Only God is sovereign and it is the task of humans to carry out God’s will on Earth” (lƗ ۊƗkimiyya illƗ li-llƗh wa-waܲƯfat al-insƗn tanfƯdh ۊukm AllƗh fƯ-l-ar)ڲ.57 From his statement, it is apparent that al-Bnj৬Ư thought of his own exclusionary view of Islam as to have been ordained by God.
References ޏAbd al-JabbƗr, al-QƗঌƯ. Shar ۊal-u܈njl al-khamsa. Edited by ޏAbd alKarƯm ޏUthmƗn. Cairo: al-Maktabat al-WahhƗbiyya, 1965. Arkoun, Mohammed. Pour une critique de la raison islamique. Paris: Maisonneuve et Larose, 1984. Bnj৬Ư, Muতammad SaޏƯd RamaঌƗn al-. ڱawƗbi ܒal-ma܈laۊa fƯ-l-sharƯҵa alislƗmiyya. 2nd ed. Damascus: Muގassasat al-RisƗla, 1973. —. Fiqh al-sƯra an-nabawiyya. 7th ed. Damascus: DƗr al-Fikr, 1977. —. KubrƗ l-yaqƯniyyƗt al-kawniyya. Damascus: DƗr al-Fikr, 1982. —. al-Salafiyya marۊala zamƗniyya mubƗraka lƗ madhhab islƗmiyya. Damascus: DƗr al-Fikr, 1988. —. al-ۉikam al-ҵaܒƗҴiyya: Shar ۊwa-taۊlƯl. 3rd ed. Damascus: DƗr al-Fikr, 2003.
56 Mohammed Arkoun, Pour une critique de la raison islamique (Paris: Maisonneuve et Larose, 1984), 30; cited by: Stefan Wild, “Eine Kritik der islamischen Vernunft: Zu den gesammelten Schriften Mohammed Arkouns,” Die Welt des Islams 26 (1986): 166. 57 Bnj৬Ư, KubrƗ al-yaqƯniyyƗt al-kawniyya, 371.
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Christmann, Andreas. “Islamic Scholar and Religious Leader: Shaikh Muhammad Saޏid Ramadan al-Buti.” In Islam and Modernity: Muslim Intellectuals Respond. Edited by John Cooper, Ronald Neuter and Mohamed Mahmoud, 57–81. London: I.B. Tauris, 1998. —. “Ascetic Passivity in Times of Extreme Activism.: The Theme of Seclusion in a Biography by al-Buti.” In Studia Semitica: The Journal of Semitic Studies Jubilee Volume. Edited by P. C. Sadgrove et al., 279–98. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005. DeLong-Bas, Natana J. Wahhabi Islam: From Revival and Reform to Global Jihad. London: Oxford University Press, 2007. Elshahed, Elsayed. “Der Islam in Europa: Ein Beitrag zur Wahrnehmungsproblematik der Religions- und Meinungsfreiheit.” In Der Islam in Europa.: Zwischen Weltpolitik und Alltag. Edited by Urs Altermatt, Mariano Delgado and Guido Vergauwen, 301–24. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2006. Ende, Werner. “Gerechtigkeit als politisches Ordnungsprinzip im Islam.” In Islam und Rechtsstaat: Zwischen Scharia und Säkularisierung. Edited by Birgit Krawietz, 19–36. Sankt Augustin: Konrad-AdenauerStiftung, 2008. Ende, Werner, and Pessah Shinar. “Salafiyya.” In The Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition, Vol. VIII. Edited by C. E. Bosworth et al., 900– 909. Leiden: Brill, 1995. GhazƗlƯ, Abnj ণƗmid al-. al-Iqti܈Ɨd fƯ-l-iҵtiqƗd. Beirut: DƗr al-AmƗna, 1969. Houot, Sandra. “Culture religieuse et média électronique: Le cas du cheikh Muhammad al-Bnj৬Ư.” Maghreb-Mashrek 178 (2003-04): 75–87. Lauzière, Henri. “The construction of salafiyya.: Reconsidering Salafism from the perspective of conceptual history.” International Journal of Middle East Studies 42 (2010): 369–89. Meijer, Roel, ed. Global Salafism: Islam’s New Religious Movement. London: Oxford University Press, 2009. Opwis, Felicitas. “Maৢlaতa in Contemporary Islamic Legal Theory.” Islamic Law and Society 12, no. 2 (2005): 182–223. Rudolph, Ulrich. “Ratio und Überlieferung in der Erkenntnislehre alAšޏarƯ's und al-MƗturƯdƯ's.” ZDMG 142 (1992): 72–89. Schacht, Joseph. Der IslƗm mit Ausschluss des QorҴƗns. Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr, 1931. Steinberg, Guido. Religion und Staat in Saudi-Arabien: Die wahhabitischen Gelehrten 1902-1953. Würzburg: Ergon, 2003.
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Wild, Stefan. “Eine Kritik der islamischen Vernunft: Zu den gesammelten Schriften Mohammed Arkouns.” Die Welt des Islams 26 (1986): 163– 66.
Internet http://www.facebook.com/Sh.AlBouti (01.02.2012) http://www.naseem-alsham.com/ar/Pages.php?page=mufty&pg_id=1992 (02.02.2012) http://www.abubaseer.bizland.com/refutation/read/f24.doc (02.02.2012) http://www.saowt.com/forum/showthread.php?t=7406 (02.02.2012). http://www.bouti.com/fatawas.php?PHPSESSID=121ab1f868687c8c0d1fa 9f1ca706a94&id=337&lvl=2&page=2 (02.02.2012) http://www.addustour.com/ViewTopic.aspx?ac=\OpinionAndNotes\2011\ 07\OpinionAndNotes_issue1359_day03_id338579.htm#.ToWPOw4e1c. (29.09.2011). http://www.fromsyria.com/index.php/syria-news/9250.html (03.02.2012). http://www.assabeel.net/assabeel-essayists/40904-html (03.02.2012). http://sns.sy/sns/?path=news/read/36439 (03.02.2012).
CHAPTER THREE A CALL TO UNITY: YNjSUF AL-QARAঋƖWƮ’S MIDDLE WAY APPROACH TO THE INTERPRETATION OF THE DIVINE ATTRIBUTES FARID SULEIMAN
1. Introduction Ynjsuf al-QaraঌƗwƯ1 is undoubtedly one of the most influential figures in contemporary Islamic thought. Western academia recognised QaraঌƗwƯ’s writings first in the late 1980s and since then focused particularly on his positions in Islamic jurisprudence (fiqh).2 Prior research in this regard has shown that QaraঌƗwƯ is very much concerned with the preservation of the unity of the Muslim community (waۊdat al-umma) and maintaining justice (in܈Ɨf) towards groups that hold different and contrary opinions, which are among others, the essential aims and attributes of his so-called middle way approach (minhƗj al-wasaܒiyya).3 This article dovetails with prior research in this regard, however, this time by examining an issue that is purely theological: QaraঌƗwƯ’s interpretations of the divine attributes. The analysis
1
From now on: QaraঌƗwƯ. To my knowledge, QaraঌƗwƯ’s name is first mentioned in Western academic research in 1988 in: Leonard Binder, Islamic Liberalism: A Critique of Development Ideologies (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1988), 279. 3 See also Bettina Gräf, “The Concept of wasa৬iyya in the works of Ynjsuf alQaraঌƗwƯ,” in Gräf; Skovgaard-Petersen, Global Mufti, esp. 226–27. 2
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of his views will be preceded by an outline of his biography, which will be based predominantly on his still uncompleted autobiography.4
2. From a “son of the village” to a “global mufti”— the life of Ynjsuf al-QaraঌƗwƯ Born in 1926 into a poor peasant family in the village ৡaf৬ TurƗb in the Egyptian Delta, Ynjsuf ޏAbd AllƗh al-QaraঌƗwƯ was raised in humble and modest living circumstances. QaraঌƗwƯ lost his father in his early infancy, and his mother passed away when he was thirteen years old. After the death of his father, it was mostly his uncle who took over the family’s responsibilities.5 Already at the age of nine, QaraঌƗwƯ had memorised the QurގƗn in one of the traditional QurގƗnic schools (kuttƗb).6 If we are to believe his memoirs, he was not only the youngest ۊƗfiܲ (one who has memorised the whole QurގƗn by heart) in his village, but also received a price for the best performance in the QurގƗnic memorisation exam.7 His thirst for knowledge earned him the nickname Shaykh Ynjsuf.8 The fact that he named his memoirs and autobiographical work Son of the village and the traditional school (Ibn al-qarya wa-l-kuttƗb) is a clear indication that QaraঌƗwƯ is proud of his origins.9 At the age of fourteen, while a student at the al-Azhar-affiliated school in ৫an৬Ɨ, he had his first contact with ণasan al-BannƗ (d. 1949), the founder of the Muslim Brotherhood in 1928. QaraঌƗwƯ was profoundly impressed by al-BannƗ and in his memoirs he acknowledges the great influence that al-BannƗ’s charismatic personality had on him.10 In 1942, QaraঌƗwƯ joined the Muslim Brotherhood and even though he left it decades later, the relationship between him and the Brotherhood never ceased to be one of deep mutual respect.11 4
Four volumes of this work have been published so far covering the period between 1926 and 1995: Ynjsuf al-QaraঌƗwƯ, Ibn al-qarya wa-l-kuttƗb: MalƗmiۊ sƯra wa-masƯra, 4 vols. (DƗr al-Shurnjq, 2002). From now on abbreviated as Ibn alqarya. 5 Ibn al-qarya, 1:105. 6 Ibid., 1:126. 7 Ibid., 1:135–36. 8 See Wendelin Wenzel-Teuber, Islamische Ethik und moderne Gesellschaft im Islamismus von Yusuf al-Qaradawi (Hamburg: Kovaþ, 2005), 35. 9 Interestingly, the title bears similarity to that of the memoirs of Sayyid Qu৬b (d. 1966) entitled Child of the village (ܑifl al-qarya). 10 Ibn al-qarya, 1:246. 11 Husam Tammam goes so far as to term QaraঌƗwƯ “the legitimate child of the Muslim Brothers Movement and Organisation”. See Husam Tammam, “Ynjsuf al-
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From very early on, he actively engaged as a preacher in support of the Muslim Brotherhood. When the power struggle between the Egyptian state and the Brotherhood reached its peak in 1948, QaraঌƗwƯ, like many of his comrades, was put in prison.12 This brief arrest was followed by a second period in custody in 1949, during which QaraঌƗwƯ wrote a play called The scholar and the tyrant (ҵƗlim wa-ܒƗghiya).13 This play was performed in prison and, according to his own words, was so well received that it even found its way to stages outside Egypt14 and has been translated into English. After QaraঌƗwƯ’s release from prison, he had fifteen days to prepare himself for the final exams of the ৫an৬Ɨ Religious Institute. Despite this, he managed to pass the exams with the second-best average grade out of the whole year.15 Having achieved such an outstanding result, QaraঌƗwƯ was advised to continue with his studies at the DƗr al-ޏUlnjm University in Cairo but decided to pursue his studies at al-Azhar University, even though he was well aware that the millennium-old institution was in urgent need of “reforms and renewal”.16 In 1949, he enrolled at al-Azhar University to study theology (u܈njl al-dƯn), which he finished with distinction as the best student of 1954. QaraঌƗwƯ made his first trip outside Egypt about two weeks after the military coup d’état in 1952. On behalf of the Brotherhood, he visited Syria, Jordan and Lebanon in order to strengthen transnational relationships between the various groups of the Muslim Brotherhood.17 During the era of JamƗl ޏAbd al-NƗৢir (d. 1970), QaraঌƗwƯ was detained three times: At the beginning of 1954, from the end of the same year until 1956 and finally he was put in solitary confinement in an Egyptian intelligence building for about 50 days in 1962.18 For a member of the Muslim Brotherhood, the political climate of the 1950s was extremely harsh. After his release from prison in June 1956, QaraঌƗwƯ was QaraঌƗwƯ and the Muslim Brotherhood: The Nature of a Special Relationship,” in Gräf; Skovgaard-Petersen, Global Mufti, 55. 12 QaraঌƗwƯ was imprisoned five times, in which at least in one of these he was also subjected to torture. 13 This play is about the imprisonment and execution of SaޏƯd Ibn al-Jubayr (d. 95/714) by the governor of Iraq, ণajjƗj Ibn Ynjsuf, who died in the same year. 14 Ibn al-qarya, 1:390–91. 15 Ibid., 1:400–01. 16 Ibid., 1:405. QaraঌƗwƯ holds al-Azhar University in high esteem and it is clear from his memoirs that his relationship to it is highly emotional. Despite or perhaps because of that he has criticised the university more than once and publicly demanded reforms. 17 Ibid., 1:462. 18 Ibid., 2:415.
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forbidden to engage in any political activity including public preaching. Nonetheless, QaraঌƗwƯ decided to pursue his studies at al-Azhar specialising in QurގƗnic exegesis and Prophetic tradition, however, he missed the registration deadline while still in prison and consequently was not allowed to begin his studies until the summer of 1957. In order to fill the time, he studied Arabic Literature at the Arabic University in Cairo.19 Back at al-Azhar University, he applied for a teaching position and three weeks later he was listed as one of the accepted candidates. His happiness about that was, however, short-lived, as the Egyptian security authority vetoed the appointment.20 Later on, he found a job as a teacher of Arabic in a private school in the wealthy Zamalek district of Cairo, where he had to substitute his traditional AzharƯ garb with a Western suit and tie for the first time in his life.21 However, QaraঌƗwƯ resigned after his ban on engaging in public activities was lifted, and he worked as a preacher (khaܒƯb) in the Grand Mosque of Zamalek.22 One year later, the ban was reissued and QaraঌƗwƯ was forced to resign again. Later on, he also applied to the Ministry of Religious Endowments (awqƗf) as a preacher and imƗm. Contrary to his expectations he was accepted, however, it was on the condition that he engaged only in administrative affairs and refrained from any public commitments. During that time, QaraঌƗwƯ published his first collection of fatwƗs at the request of al-BahƯ l-KhnjlƯ (d. 1977), one of the founding members of the Muslim Brotherhood and editor of the journal Minbar al-IslƗm. To avoid future conflicts with the Egyptian security agency, the fatwƗs were not published under QaraঌƗwƯ’s full name. Enjoying permanent employment and a regular income allowed QaraঌƗwƯ to marry in 1958.23 Around that time he visited the Grand Shaykh of al-Azhar, Maতmnjd Shaltnjt (d. 1963), at his house and requested an academic position at al-Azhar University. As a result he was given a post in the administration, where he soon was asked to prepare a compilation of Maতmnjd Shaltnjt’s writings for publication. In 1960, QaraঌƗwƯ published his first and probably most influential work: al-ۉalƗl wa-lۊarƗm fƯ-l-IslƗm (The Lawful and the Prohibited in Islam), a book he was asked to write specifically in clear Arabic for the Western Muslim audience. The book was very well received and translated into many different languages. 19
Ibid., 2:213. Ibid., 2:229. 21 Ibid., 2:230–31. 22 Ibid., 2:234–45. 23 Ibid., 2:256, also 292. 20
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Three years after QaraঌƗwƯ’s employment at al-Azhar, he was granted the opportunity to make a missionary tour of the Arabic world. He decided to follow the invitation of Shaykh ޏAbd AllƗh al-TurkƯ, who at that time was responsible for Islamic educational affairs in Qatar, to direct the Secondary Religious Institute (al-maҵhad al-dƯnƯ l-thanawƯ) in Doha. QaraঌƗwƯ, his wife and their two daughters left Egypt in 1961 for the tiny desert state of Qatar, which was still a British protectorate and was completely lacking in modern technology. Nevertheless, his new home allowed QaraঌƗwƯ to construct the basis on which he was later on able to become a well-known Muslim scholar not only in the Islamic world but also in the West. QaraঌƗwƯ now lived and worked outside his home country, nevertheless he remained a person of interest to the Egyptian National Security Agency. This became clear to him during a stay in Egypt in summer 1962, where he was detained, as already mentioned, without charge and held in solitary confinement for about fifty days. In 1965, he had to cancel a visit to Egypt due to a speech against socialism that he had given in Qatar and that the Egyptian security agency understood as direct criticism of the Egyptian State.24 In the same year, his temporary employment abroad was about to end, and he was ordered by the Egyptian State to return home. However, he was then appointed to the Ministry of Education in Qatar and refused to come back to Egypt. When Egypt tried to enforce his return by not renewing his passport, Qatar granted him and his family temporary identity cards and later on, in 1969, full citizenship.25 During the ensuing period, QaraঌƗwƯ was invited to give lectures in several countries inside and outside the Islamic world. These trips allowed him to strengthen his ties to the Muslim Brotherhood, to meet leading scholars of that time26 and to increase his popularity. QaraঌƗwƯ had long been planning to obtain a doctorate degree. However, to return to al-Azhar University was unthinkable in the time of ޏAbd al-NƗৢir’s rule. QaraঌƗwƯ was close to obtaining the degree in Pakistan,27 but after the death of ޏAbd al-NƗৢir in 1970, the political situation eased under the next president of Egypt, Anwar al-SƗdƗt (assassinated in 1981). Three years later, QaraঌƗwƯ was awarded a doctorate by al-Azhar University for his thesis on the legislation of zakƗt which had already been published as a book. This work and also the earlier one, that is, The Lawful and the Prohibited in Islam, were 24
Ibid., 2:475–76. Ibid., 3:16–17 and 172–73. 26 For example, NƗৢir al-DƯn al-AlbƗnƯ (d. 1999) and ޏAbd al-FattƗত Abnj Ghudda (d. 1997). 27 Ibid., 3: 173. 25
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highly praised inside and outside academic circles and contributed to the establishment of QaraঌƗwƯ’s reputation as an outstanding scholar. Since then, QaraঌƗwƯ has published more than 150 books and won several prizes, including the King Faisal International Prize for exceptional achievements in the field of Islamic Studies which he was awarded in 1994 together with his fellow scholar al-Sayyid SƗbiq (d. 2000).28 Furthermore, QaraঌƗwƯ is founder, chairman or member of several Islamic organisations, including the European Council for Fatwa and Research based in Dublin.29 A decisive factor contributing to his popularity and reputation among the ordinary working class Muslims is his regular appearances on the satellite channel al-Jazeera since its establishment in 1996. There he discusses religious issues in his programme SharƯҵa and Life (al-SharƯҵa wa-l-ۊayƗt) reaching thereby millions of Arabic-speaking people all over the globe on a regular basis.30 QaraঌƗwƯ is very much aware of the importance of mass media and this is corroborated by the fact that he was the first Muslim scholar with a personal web site, launched in 1997.31 Despite QaraঌƗwƯ’s position as a global Islamic authority—or perhaps as a consequence of that—he is a controversial figure inside and outside the Islamic world. In the Western non-academic world, he is specifically known for his support of suicide attacks against the Israeli occupation,32 for which he was banned from entering the United States and also temporarily from entering the United Kingdom.33 From the Muslim side, he has been severely criticised (and also admired) inter alia for his unconditional support of the Muslim Brotherhood in the post-Mubarak era in Egypt and of the Syrian opposition forces against the current regime of BashshƗr al-Asad in Syria.
28
Ibid., 4:604–05. For a comprehensive list of these organisations, see Barbara F. Stowasser, “Ynjsuf al-QaraঌƗwƯ on Women,” in Gräf; Skovgaard-Petersen, Global Mufti, 191– 92. 30 At that time, he had already been lecturing on religious issues for more than two decades on the first television channel established in Qatar. See Ibn al-qarya, 3:239. 31 See Bettina Gräf, “Shaikh Ynjsuf al-QaraঌƗwƯ in Cyberspace,” Die Welt des Islams 47 (2007): 407. The address is: www.qaradawi.net. 32 On his elaboration on that, see Ynjsuf al-QaraঌƗwƯ, FatƗwƗ min ajl FilasܒƯn, Silsilat rasƗގil tarshƯd al-ৢaতwa 12 (Cairo: Maktabat Wahba, 2003). 33 See Bettina Gräf and Jakob Skovgaard-Petersen, “Introduction,” in Gräf; Skovgaard-Petersen, Global Mufti, 7. 29
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3. QaraঌƗwƯ’s views on the divine attributes As stated above, QaraঌƗwƯ is a highly prolific writer. Of his more than 150 books published so far, however, most address matters of jurisprudence (fiqh) and its theory, while only few cover issues that exclusively belong to the field of Islamic theology.34 It is therefore not surprising that in Western academic circles QaraঌƗwƯ is known first and foremost as a jurist (faqƯh). His concern for the juridical aspects of Muslim minorities in the non-Muslim majority countries, his advocacy of easement (taysƯr) and the middle-way approach (ܒarƯqat al-wasa )ܒin Islamic jurisprudence as well as his controversial religious decrees on political issues have received great attention from Western researchers. QaraঌƗwƯ’s utmost concern is the restoration and preservation of the religious unity of the Sunni Muslim community by formulating a framework that allows a wide range of different interpretations of the Islamic authoritative texts to coexist in harmony. In order to make his vision come true, QaraঌƗwƯ is aware of the fact that he needs to address not only disagreements on legal issues, but also those that are purely theological. This leads us to QaraঌƗwƯ’s treatment of one of the most heatedly debated questions in the history of early Islam and up to the present day: What is the appropriate understanding of the names and attributes of God? QaraঌƗwƯ’s stance is formulated in his book entitled: Fu܈njl fƯ-l-ҵaqƯda bayna l-salaf wa-l-khalaf (Issues of Theology between the First Three Generations of Islam and their Successors) which is the sixth part of the series: Towards Intellectual Unity among Campaigners for Islam (Naۊw waۊda fikriyya li-l-ҵƗmilƯn li-l-IslƗm).35 This was published in 2005 and expounds on four theological issues formulated by ণasan al-BannƗ in his work al-Fu܈njl al-ҵashrnjn li-fahm al-IslƗm (Twenty Issues for Understanding Islam). The four theological issues are the following: the names and attributes of God (pp. 13–179), the miracles of the friends (awliyƗҴ) of God (pp. 181–226), the visitation of graves (pp. 227–53) as well as the practice of tawassul (intercession; pp. 255–67). In the following, I provide 34
QaraঌƗwƯ has written on the existence of God [Wujnjd AllƗh, ޏAqƗގid al-IslƗm 1 (Cairo: Maktabat Wahba, 2001)], the reality of the oneness of God [ۉaqƯqat altawۊƯd, ޏAqƗގid al-IslƗm 2 (Cairo: Maktabat Wahba, 1979)] and having religious certainty in regard to predestination [al-ƮmƗn bi-l-qadar (Cairo: Muގassasat alRisƗla, 2001)]. 35 The full bibliographical reference is: Ynjsuf al-QaraঌƗwƯ, Fu܈njl fƯ-l-ҵaqƯda bayna al-salaf wa-l-khalaf: ƖyƗt wa-aۊƗdƯth al-܈ifƗt - al-awliyƗҴ wa-karƗmƗtuhum - alqubnjr wa-mubtadaҵƗtuhƗ - al-tawassul, Naতw waতdat fikriyya li-l-ޏƗmilƯn li-lIslƗm 6 (Cairo: Maktabat Wahba). Henceforth Fu܈njl.
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a summary of QaraঌƗwƯ’s elaborations on the first issue and thereby analyse his lines of argument and comment on his conclusions. In his introduction, QaraঌƗwƯ informs us that the necessity for writing this book stems from the fact that disagreement on the four theological issues has been a source of tension, discord and division in the Muslim community. After identifying his own stance as based on a middle-way approach, QaraঌƗwƯ warns his readers that his elaborations “might very well not please some of our SalafƯ brothers, who fanatically support only one view and neither make any concessions nor treat (opinions different from theirs) with ease.”36 Had the different groups pondered over the issue of the divine attributes, QaraঌƗwƯ argues, they would have found that they have much more in common than divides them. As will be shown below, QaraঌƗwƯ’s pattern of argumentation aims, even if only in a subtle way, primarily at convincing his SalafƯ readership of his middle way approach. This is because he considers them, as is clear from the quotation above, to have the most divisive attitude towards other Muslim groups. QaraঌƗwƯ then limits himself to the discussion of the ܈ifƗt khabariyya and leaves out the ܈ifƗt ҵaqliyya. The former consist of those attributes that are solely known through revelation (e.g. God’s hand, face, eyes, His sitting on His throne etc.), while the latter are considered to be supported by reason (ҵaql) as well.37 QaraঌƗwƯ introduces the fa܈l on the divine attributes by arguing that human history has witnessed a great range of different concepts of the essence and attributes of God, and that a complete denial of His existence has always been the exception. Hence, the prophets were not sent in order to convince their people of the existence of God, but to teach them the true conception of God and how to worship Him. QaraঌƗwƯ then mentions a Prophetic tradition (ۊadƯth) that states that God had been a hidden treasure and created mankind in order to become known. QaraঌƗwƯ, however, dismisses this Prophetic tradition as being fabricated (mawڲnjҵ) and it seems that he cites it only in order to criticise the well-known mystic Ibn ޏArabƯ (d. 638/1240) who considered it to be weak by way of transmission (ڲaҵƯf) and authentic (܈aۊƯ )ۊby way of the divine unveiling of the heart (kashf).38 What appears only as an aside may very well be interpreted as a direct attack on one of the great masters of the Sufi stream in order to win over those of his readership who lean towards the SalafƯ approach. 36
Fu܈njl, 8. Ibid., 21. This categorisation, widely supported by theologians of kalƗm, is itself disputed. Among the Ashޏarites, commonly seven attributes of God are considered to be supported by reason: life, power, will, knowledge, speech, sight and hearing. 38 Ibid., 14–15. 37
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QaraঌƗwƯ then divides his discussion of the divine names and attributes into five chapters: first, the different opinions in regard to God’s names and attributes (pp. 21–55); second, the determination of the position of the salaf (pp. 56–86); third, the position of the khalaf with regard to the divine attributes (pp. 87–117); fourth, QaraঌƗwƯ’s own stance with regard to the divine attributes (pp. 118–32); and fifth, on the reasons that make it necessary to favour the opinions of the salaf (pp. 133–55). These are followed by an appendix (tatimma), in which he explains to what extent laymen should be involved in such discussions, stressing the proximity between the positions of the salaf and the khalaf and further arguing that disagreement should not lead to declaring others to be sinners, let alone apostates. In the first chapter, QaraঌƗwƯ discusses how to interpret the QurގƗnic division of the revelation into clear (muۊkam) and ambiguous (mutashƗbih) speech.39 QaraঌƗwƯ’s elaborations, not only in this chapter, but also later on, consist of page-long citations from other works, especially from AqƗwƯl al-thiqƗt fƯ taҴwƯl al-asmƗҴ wa-l-܈ifƗt (Opinions of the Trustworthy Scholars in regard to the TaҴwƯl of the Divine Names and Attributes), written by the ণanbalƯ scholar Zayn al-DƯn MarޏƯ (d. 1033/1624).40 QaraঌƗwƯ claims that ণasan al-BannƗ considered the verses which address God’s attributes to be mutashƗbih and thereby went against the position of Ibn Taymiyya (d. 728/1328).41 QaraঌƗwƯ is, however, imprecise as Ibn Taymiyya indeed considered these verses to be mutashƗbih, albeit in a different sense from that held by al-BannƗ. To clarify this, it is helpful to take a look at the overview given by al-BannƗ, as cited by QaraঌƗwƯ, of the different groups that take part in the debate on understanding of the divine attributes. Al-BannƗ identifies four main positions. First, that of the corporealists/anthropomorphists (mujassima/mushabbiha),42 who adhere to the outer meaning (ܲƗhir) of the QurގƗnic verses and thereby do not differentiate between, for example, God’s face (wajh) and that of humans. On the other side of the spectrum, we find those who completely divest God of His attributes (muҵaܒܒila). They are also called al-Jahmiyya after 39
See QurގƗn 3:7. Because of his laxity in marking quotations as such, the reader might often erroneously believe parts of the text to be the words of QaraঌƗwƯ. 41 Fu܈njl, 34. 42 The semantic differentiation between the concepts of tajsƯm, tashbƯh and takyƯf, who are often translated as anthropomorphism, needs further scholarly investigation. See Wesley Williams, “A Body Unlike Bodies: Transcendent Anthropomorphism in Ancient Semitic Tradition and Early Islam,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 129, no. 1 (2009): esp. 30. 40
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their alleged founder Jahm Ibn al-ৡafwƗn (d. 128/746). The third position is that of the salaf and is described as tafwƯ( ڲrelegating matters to God). According to al-BannƗ, the early Muslims relegated the intended meaning of the verses that address the divine attributes to God alone and did not interpret them either on a semantic or an ontological level. The fourth position is held by the scholars of the later generations (khalaf) and can be identified as the method of taҴwƯl. In order to avoid the anthropomorphism of the first group, they dismissed the literal meaning (ۊaqƯqa) of these verses in favour of the metaphorical sense (majƗz), and hence understood, for instance, God’s face as His existence.43 As already mentioned, Ibn Taymiyya classified those verses which address the attributes of God as mutashƗbih, however, only in regard to the quiddity of these attributes, but not in regard to their meaning. Hence, Ibn Taymiyya understands the QurގƗnic expression yad AllƗh as the hand of God, and in that sense it is muۊkam. But he declares that God’s hand is different from those of humans and unknowable in regard to its how (bi-lƗ kayf), and in that sense it is mutashƗbih.44 Ibn Taymiyya’s position can therefore not be subsumed under any of those mentioned by al-BannƗ, and it is QaraঌƗwƯ himself who adds it later on under the name of ithbƗt.45 He then turns to the crux of the debate: Which method did the salaf pursue in regard to the interpretation of the divine attributes? QaraঌƗwƯ answers this question saying: In reality, whoever reads what has been transmitted by the salaf with regard to the narrated expressions concerning these verses (that speak of the divine attributes), it will be made plain for him by most (of the narrations) that they do not delve into the meanings (of the verses) nor do they impose upon themselves an interpretation (tafsƯr) of these by any kind of expression.46
According to QaraঌƗwƯ, this was the prevailing argument centuries before the contribution of Ibn Taymiyya. To back up his claim, QaraঌƗwƯ cites two pages from MarޏƯ’s AqƗwƯl who argues in a similar vein. Citing this famous ণanbalƯ scholar in support of a position contrary to that of Ibn 43
Ibid., 28–31. Ibn Taymiyya presents his views on that matter in different places in his writings. See especially his treatise al-IklƯl fƯ-l-mutashƗbih wa-l-taҴwƯl to be found in: TaqƯ l-DƯn Ibn Taymiyya, Majmnjҵ fatƗwƗ shaykh al-IslƗm Aۊmad ibn Taymiyya, 37 vols., ed. ޏAbd ar-RaতmƗn ibn Muতammad Ibn QƗsim and Muতammad Ibn ޏAbd al-RaতmƗn Ibn Muতammad (Riyadh, Mecca: Ma৬Ɨbi ޏalRiyƗঌ, n.d. [1962–67]), 13:270–313. 45 Fu܈njl, 40. 46 Ibid. 44
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Taymiyya may again be regarded as a ruse to win over the reader who sympathises with the SalafƯ position on the divine attributes. This is because MarޏƯ can definitely not be suspected of being sympathetic to kalƗm or Ashޏarite theology and moreover he produced an entire work in defence of the legacy of Ibn Taymiyya.47 In the second chapter, QaraঌƗwƯ modifies this claim so that it becomes more appropriate to the primary concern of the book, which is the unification of the Muslim community. He now argues that, as well as tafwƯڲ, the methods of ithbƗt and taҴwƯl have their roots—albeit to different degrees—in what has been narrated from the early Muslim generations.48 QaraঌƗwƯ then states: There is no surprise in that, as it is of the nature of the human beings to disagree and to have different levels of understanding of such issues. And from our juristic heritage since the time of the companions of the Prophet we know the method of strict adherence (to the norms) of Ibn ޏUmar and the method of easement of Ibn ޏAbbƗs. And we are aware of the disagreement of the companions in regard to the performance of the afternoon prayer by the tribe of Quraya. Some of them understood the order (of the Prophet in regard to that) literally and others interpreted it in accordance with its intended meaning. (Later on), the Prophet did not criticise either of the two parties (for their interpretation). And we are acquainted with the school of traditions and the school of reasoning and as well with the school of the Ɨhiriyya and the school of MaqƗ܈id (higher purposes). So it is no wonder that the people disagreed over some of the texts that speak of the divine attributes that are known by revelation (܈ifƗt khabariyya).49
QaraঌƗwƯ anticipates the counter-argument that on the one hand the companions of the Prophet may have differed over matters of practical law, while on the other hand they were united in regard to theological questions. He accepts this statement insofar as there is no substantial disagreement among the companions in the realm of theology. However, this unity does not apply to detailed questions such as whether the Prophet saw the Lord in his lifetime.50 As we have seen from the above, QaraঌƗwƯ considers disagreement and controversy to be natural and inevitable traits 47 This work has been edited and published: MarޏƯ l-KaramƯ, al-ShahƗda al-zakiyya fƯ thanƗҴ al-aҴimma ҵalƗ Ibn Taymiyya, ed. Najm Khalaf (Amman: DƗr al-FurqƗn, 1985). 48 Fu܈njl, 65. 49 Ibid., 66. 50 Ibid. QaraঌƗwƯ exemplifies this disagreement by a statement on this issue that is attributed to ޏƖގisha.
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of human discourse from which he concludes that they should be accepted as such and not lead to division in the Muslim community. Does this, however, mean that QaraঌƗwƯ approves of the whole range of different interpretations of the divine attributes? Certainly not. QaraঌƗwƯ indeed argues for broadening the realm of the acceptable, but he nevertheless also sets limits. According to him, the dividing line between a valid and a false opinion on the divine attributes is marked by the ascription to God of anything that appertains to His divine nature and as well denying Him any resemblance to anything of his creation (tanzƯh).51 Interestingly, QaraঌƗwƯ also holds that God is devoid of any quiddity, which means that His how is not only unknown, but He does not have any how in the first place. This, however, would go against the positions of some of the groups that QaraঌƗwƯ aims to reconcile with each other by declaring all of them to be within the general framework of the permissible.52 As he negates God’s quiddity only once and in passing, it is not clear whether QaraঌƗwƯ considers the acceptance of this as a conditio sine qua non of acceptable belief.53 In the following, QaraঌƗwƯ extensively relies on the book al-܇ifƗt alkhabariyya ҵinda ahl al-sunna wa-l-jamƗҵa (The Understanding of the Followers of the Prophetic Tradition and the Community in Regard to those of the Divine Attributes that are Solely Known through Revelation), written by the contemporary scholar Muতammad al-KabƯsƯ, in order to substantiate the claim that the position of tafwƯ ڲas well as ithbƗt and taҴwƯl can be traced back to the early generations.54 QaraঌƗwƯ seeks to convince the reader that from the bulk of the various narrations attributed to the salaf, three types of tafwƯ ڲare discernible: explicit or sheer tafwƯڲ, tafwƯ ڲthat comes near to ithbƗt and tafwi ڲthat comes near to taҴwƯl.55 The first type is exemplified, among others, by the following statement attributed to Ibn Surayj (d. 306/918): “The question in regard to the meaning of them [i.e. the verses on the divine attributes] is an impermissible innovation (bidҵa), while answering (such questions) is disbelief (kufr) and heresy (zandaqa).”56 Statements that belong to the second type contain expressions like without a how (bi-lƗ kayf), they [the 51
Ibid. These include the Salafiyya. 53 Ibid., 69. 54 See Muতammad ޏAyyƗsh al-KabƯsƯ, al-܇ifƗt al-khabariyya ҵinda ahl al-sunna wa-l-jamƗҵa (Cairo: al-Maktab al-miৢrƯ l-তadƯth, 2000), 89ff. QaraঌƗwƯ avails himself of this book with page-long quotes. 55 Fu܈njl, 72. 56 Ibid., 73. 52
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verses on the divine attributes] have to be taken in their plain sense (tujrƗ ҵalƗ ܲƗhirihƗ), or even explain the attributes semantically.57 Examples for the third and final type are sparse, but are to be found. For example, the prophetic tradition in which it is stated that God descends to the lowest heaven during the final third of each night to promise forgiveness to those who seek repentance during this time (ۊadƯth al-nuznjl) has been interpreted by most of the speculative theologians as well as a group from among the early Muslim generations (akthar al-mutakallimƯn wa-jamƗҵa min al-salaf) as the descending of God’s mercy, His orders and the angels.58 The goal of QaraঌƗwƯ’s third chapter is to elucidate the methodology of the successors (khalaf) in their way of interpreting the divine attributes. QaraঌƗwƯ’s elaborations seek to establish the ground for the next chapters, in which he presents what he conceives to be the middle way approach that neither falls into anthropomorphism (tajsƯm) nor makes use of excessive exegetical interpretation (taҴwƯl). First, QaraঌƗwƯ adduces the famous ণanbalƯ scholar Ibn al-JawzƯ (d. 597/1200), who authored his book Dafҵ shubah al-taҴwƯl in order to exculpate Aতmad Ibn ণanbal (d. 241/855) from the charges of having God likened to His creation. Ibn alJawzƯ admits that indeed some later scholars affiliated to the ণanbalƯ school described God inappropriately; however, these were shortcomings of individuals for which Ibn ণanbal cannot be held responsible.59 QaraঌƗwƯ then discusses several attributes of God, like His sitting on His throne (istiwƗ)ގ, His leg (rijl) and foot (qadam), as well as His being with His creation (maҵiyya) and shows how they have been understood differently by the scholars of the khalaf. By this, he is probably seeking to demonstrate to the reader the complexity of the debate that surrounds the divine attributes. In the following, the intricate character of the debate is illustrated by examining the various interpretations of the prophetic tradition that seemingly states that God has an image or form (܈njra). This is mentioned in the following prophetic tradition that the majority of the scholars consider to be authentic: “When one of you attacks his brother then avoid his face for God created Ɩdam in His image [or form; ܈njra].”60 QaraঌƗwƯ states that the renowned scholar Abnj ZakariyƗ l-NawawƯ (d. 676/1277) completely relegated the meaning of His image to God, sticking thereby to the method of pure tafwƯڲ. Without passing any comment, QaraঌƗwƯ also cites Abnj ޏAbd AllƗh al-MƗzirƯ (d. 536/1141) who 57
Ibid., 75 and 80. Ibid., 79–80. 59 Ibid., 89–90. 60 Ibid., 105. 58
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criticised Ibn Qutayba (d. 276/885) for his view that God has an image or form totally different from created images or forms. Such, al-MƗzirƯ argued, may be said in regard to other attributes but not in regard to that one, because the term ܈njra—by virtue of its meaning—entails bodily composition (tarkƯb), with which exclusively created objects are attributed. Hence, affirming the meaning of ܈njra while negating its necessary concomitant of composition is self-contradictory. Others argued that the pronoun in the expression His image may refer to the one who is attacked or to Ɩdam himself but not to God.61 The latter interpretation would mean that Ɩdam was created as an adult and never went through childhood. Yet others argued that the pronoun indeed refers back to God, but having an image is nevertheless not one of His traits. Like His house, which is the Kaޏba, His prophet, who is Muতammad or His spirit, which is the angel Gabriel, there is also God’s image, which is in reality the human one. He only attributed it to Himself for the sake of its exaltation. Other scholars argued that the term ܈njra has different meanings in the Arabic language. Besides the meaning of form or image, it may also be understood as the qualities of a thing. So when the Prophet said that God created Ɩdam in His image, it may mean that Ɩdam is similar to his Creator insofar as he, like Him, orders, forbids, plans, teaches and so on and so forth. Without passing a judgement, QaraঌƗwƯ merely cites different sources that either argue for or against the interpretations that have been mentioned above.62 As has been said, his major intent so far is—most probably—to reveal the complexity of this theological debate, thereby implicitly urging his readership to resist arriving at hasty judgements and premature conclusions. He expresses his own view in the subsequent chapter of his book, to which we will turn now. As we have seen from the above, QaraঌƗwƯ argues that the methods of tafwƯڲ, ithbƗt and taҴwƯl can all be traced back to the earliest Muslim generation. For QaraঌƗwƯ, they are all to be considered within the realm of the acceptable or permissible, which, however, does not mean that he considers them to be equally valid. Quite the opposite is true. In this chapter, QaraঌƗwƯ takes a clear stance regarding what he believes to be the most correct or appropriate interpretation of the divine attributes. QaraঌƗwƯ states that for many years he unconditionally favoured the method of tafwƯ ڲand thereby followed in the footsteps of ণasan al-BannƗ. However, after he contemplated and studied the subject for several years and delved deep into the issue of the divine attributes, he gained a clearer 61 62
Ibid., 106. Ibid., 107–09.
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understanding and began to revise his position. He came to the conclusion that the most appropriate method to interpret a text that addresses God’s attributes has to be determined on a case-by-case basis.63 QaraঌƗwƯ then categorises the attributes of God as being of three types: First, the attributes of infiҵƗlƗt (inner actions or emotional states) like loving, being angry, being compassionate, being pleased, laughing and rejoicing. In regard to these attributes, QaraঌƗwƯ neither follows the Ashޏarite position, which does not assign to them any meaning except of what follows from them (like God’s being pleased with a particular human being is tantamount to His will to bestow blessings on him or her) nor does he follow the way of completely relegating its interpretation to God (tafwƯ)ڲ. To substantiate his view, he uses the same pattern of argument that can be found in the works of Ibn Taymiyya without, however, making any reference to him. QaraঌƗwƯ argues that there is an agreement among the scholars that both God and human beings have a will (irƗda). However, God’s will and that of human beings are different from each other. The will of the latter is an expression of the inclination of the soul towards an action due to a motivating factor (bƗҵith), which is a definition that is unacceptable in regard to the divine. So if the different groups had no problem of accepting that God is attributed with a will and that this will is, however, different from that of created beings, then it should be likewise unproblematic to accept the attributes of the infiҵƗlƗt on the same grounds.64 Furthermore, both the Ashޏarites and the MƗturƯdites acknowledge that God is hearing and seeing. They consider this to be established by reason and confirmed by revelation. According to QaraঌƗwƯ, they have been unable to show how these two attributes differ from those like being compassionate, so that the latter cannot be likewise confirmed by reason and revelation.65 Then QaraঌƗwƯ turns to God’s altitude (fawqiyya), His elevation (ҵulnj) as well as His sitting (istiwƗҴ) on His throne, which is located above the seven created heavens. His interpretation, he says, avoids the cursory understanding of these attributes supported by the literalistic anthropomorphists (ۊashwiyya ܲƗhiriyya) and some of the extreme ণanbalites. Rather it follows the stance of those scholars of the method of the salaf, who have closely examined the issue and carved out the truth 63
Ibid., 118–19. Ibid., 119. For Ibn Taymiyya’s adduction of the same argument, see: Ibn Taymiyya, Majmnjҵ fatƗwƗ shaykh al-IslƗm Aۊmad ibn Taymiyya, 3:17–19. This passage is part of his treatise al-RisƗla al-tadmuriyya, 3:1–128. 65 Fu܈njl, 120. Later on, QaraঌƗwƯ quotes RashƯd RiঌƗ (d. 1935) who argues in a similar way, see 149–50. 64
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(muۊaqqiqnjn) and reached a conclusion that all groups involved in the debate should at least consider to be acceptable.66 The muۊaqqiqnjn include Shaykh Ibn al-ণazƗmiyƯn al-WƗsi৬Ư (d. 711/1311), a Sufi whom Ibn Taymiyya, according to QaraঌƗwƯ, called the Junayd67 of his time (Junayd zamƗnihi). Al-WƗsi৬Ư’s discussion of the attributes of fawqiyya, ҵulnj and istiwƗҴ is taken verbatim and covers the next three pages. It can be summarised as follows: All these attributes are part of God’s essence and do not imply any spatial or temporal states. God is described as having risen and being on high since eternity and therefore also prior to creation. Therefore, no change occurred within the divine after the world and its encompassing throne had been created. Human beings are requested to look towards heaven while addressing God in supplication. This is because from the human perspective the divine is above the creation. God’s being on high is nevertheless not comparable to that of any created entity. If that is taken into account, then there is no longer any reason for relegating the semantic meaning of these attributes to God (tafwƯ)ڲ. Neither is there any necessity for taҴwƯl, such as reinterpreting the God’s sitting on His throne (istiwƗҴ) as a metaphor for His ruling (istilƗҴ) over the affairs of the creation, which would in fact be a distortion of the text (taۊrƯf).68 The third type of attributes consist of those that imply bodily composition (tarkƯb) or corporealism (tajsƯm), like God’s face, hands, eyes and leg. Here, QaraঌƗwƯ favours the method of interpreting them metaphorically (taҴwƯl) instead of accepting them at face value, especially when it comes to translating the source texts from Arabic into other languages. QaraঌƗwƯ fears that the non-Muslim reader will only be confused if he or she reads that God has hands, fingers and legs, even if it is made clear to him or her that these attributes are totally different from those of created beings.69 However, he does not accept the method of taҴwƯl unconditionally and explains this by saying: That is the position that we have chosen in regard to the permissibility of taҴwƯl as long as it is (linguistically) plausible and acceptable […]. However, our choice will be the method of the salaf in the case of a metaphorical interpretation being far-fetched or not acceptable (ghayr
66
Ibid., 121–22. Junayd (d. 298/910) is an extremely important figure within the Sufi tradition. 68 Ibid., 122–25. For the original, see Ibn ণazƗmiyƯn al-WƗsi৬Ư, RisƗla fƯ ithbƗt alistiwƗҴ wa-l-fawqiya wa-tanzƯh al-BƗriҴ jalla wa-ҵalƗ ҵan al-ۊa܈r wa-l-tamthƯl wal-kayfiyya, ed. ޏAdnƗn Abnj Zayd (Cairo: Maktabat al-ThaqƗfa al-dƯniyya, 2004), 40–43. 69 Fu܈njl, 127. 67
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mustasƗgh). This is irrespective of whether we interpret the method of the salaf to be constituted by silence (over the interpretation) and relegating the meaning to God (tafwƯ )ڲor by assigning a meaning to (these attributes) without a how (ithbƗt bi-lƗ kayf). And this position has already been taken by the leading scholars who are moderate and have been well received (alaҴimma al-muҵtadilƯn al-marڲiyƯn) by the majority of the Muslim community, like Abnj SulaymƗn al-Kha৬৬ƗbƯ (d. 388/998), Abnj Bakr alBayhaqƯ (d. 458/1056), Abnj ZakariyƗ l-NawawƯ, Ibn KathƯr (d. 774/1373), and Ibn ণajar (d. 852/1449) inter alia.70
QaraঌƗwƯ then quotes from the tafsƯr collection of Ibn KathƯr, who interpreted the following QurގƗnic statements metaphorically: “The Jews said: ‘The hand of God is chained’”,71 “rather both His hands are extended”72 and “Verily, those who swear allegiance to you [i.e. the Prophet Muতammad], they are in fact swearing allegiance to God. The hand of God is over their hands.”73 According to Ibn KathƯr, having chained hands means being miserly (or closer to the original literal meaning: closefisted), while the expression extended hands denote the opposite. Similarly God’s hands, which at the time of swearing allegiance are above the human hands, are interpreted as His presence in that situation and His totally awareness of all that has happened including the inner feelings of the persons involved.74 Other examples that QaraঌƗwƯ adduces are Ibn KathƯr’s interpretations of God’s face75 as His essence (dhƗt) and His eyes76 as His provision and protection.77 According to QaraঌƗwƯ, all these interpretations are not only compatible with the Arabic language, but also “lead to tranquility in the heart and come [first] to mind” when hearing these verses.78 QaraঌƗwƯ is well aware that this position goes against what modern-day SalafƯ preachers (duҵƗt al-madhhab al-salafƯ) propagate.79 Therefore, he emphasises that even though the method of taҴwƯl has to be favoured when it comes to attributes that imply bodily composition
70
Ibid., 127. See QurގƗn 5:64. 72 See QurގƗn 5:64. 73 See QurގƗn 48:10. 74 Fuৢnjl, 129. 75 See QurގƗn 55:27. 76 See QurގƗn 54:14. 77 Fu܈njl, 129–31. 78 Ibid., 127. 79 Ibid., 132. 71
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(tarkƯb) or corporealism (tajsƯm), the methods of both tafwƯ ڲand ithbƗt are permissible and valid as well.80 QaraঌƗwƯ concludes this chapter by summarising his position and labelling himself a salafƯ. He then backs this up by saying: “My disagreement in regard to allowing taҴwƯl in specific instances does not prevent me from following the method of the salaf. This is because we have seen that some of the salaf have practiced taҴwƯl, others tafwƯڲ, and still others ithbƗt, as we have shown above.”81 In the fifth chapter, QaraঌƗwƯ reinforces his support for the position of the salaf and thereby argues against an excessive use of taҴwƯl. He poses the question that if human beings are not even able to grasp their own nature, how then will they ever grasp the nature of the divine? Furthermore, although a metaphorical interpretation of God’s attributes may be either correct or false, it is definitely not wrong to accept the attributes at face value on the condition of total dissimilarity to the attributes of created objects and hence is the safer (aslam) method.82 Moreover, great scholars of the past like al-JuwaynƯ (d. 478/1085), alGhazƗlƯ (d. 505/1111) and al-RƗzƯ (d. 606/1210) repented of their misuse of taҴwƯl and adopted the method of the salaf.83 The same goes for the eponymous founder of the Ashޏarite school, Abnj l-ণasan al-AshޏarƯ (d. 324/935-6), who vigorously supported the salafƯ way of interpreting the attributes of God in his book al-IbƗna ҵan u܈njl al-diyƗna, which QaraঌƗwƯ considers to be one of his late works.84 However, QaraঌƗwƯ’s vigorous support of the method of the early Muslim generations does not lead to him condemning those who generally favour the instrument of taҴwƯl in their interpretations of the divine attributes. He says: “Despite my preference for the school of the salaf in regard to God’s attributes, I do not declare the later scholars who adhere to the method of taҴwƯl (al-khalaf almuҴawwilƯn) to be apostates, nor do I consider them to have gone astray or to be sinners.”85 QaraঌƗwƯ also strongly criticises the contemporary SalafƯ scholar ޏUmar al-Ashqar (d. 2012), who argued in his book al-ҵAqƯda fƯ AllƗh that the disagreement between the salaf and the khalaf in regard to God’s attributes is severe and dangerous and that the latter have sinned by 80
Ibid., 125–26. Ibid., 132. 82 Ibid., 135. 83 Ibid., 138–43. According to QaraঌƗwƯ, al-GhazƗli’s revocation of former views has been less clear than in the case of his teacher al-JuwaynƯ or the later scholar alRƗzƯ; see ibid., 141. 84 Ibid., 137. 85 Ibid., 144. 81
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going against the salaf even if their intentions may have been pure and honest.86 QaraঌƗwƯ counters al-Ashqar’s argument by the verbatim quote of a passage in RashƯd RiঌƗ’s (d. 1935) TafsƯr al-manƗr in which the disagreements between the salaf and the khalaf are described as follows: This controversy is merely terminological (khilƗf ܈njrƯ), as there is disagreement neither in regard to the (necessity) of denying God any resemblance to anything of His creation (tanzƯh), nor in regard to accepting as true what has come to us from God. If the Muslims had not coalesced into different groups, so that the supporters of every group strived to substantiate and corroborate their respective school and to prove their opponents wrong and refute them, the controversy would have vanished. Then the majority would have realised the truth in form and meaning, so that an Ashޏarite would not have denounced a ণanbalite, and nor would a traditionalist have denounced a speculative theologian.87
This quote from TafsƯr al-manƗr provides the quintessence of QaraঌƗwƯ’s treatise on the divine attributes. His utmost wish is to settle the controversy, not by imposing his true opinion on others, but by declaring all the involved groups to be within the realm of the acceptable. In the appendix (tatimma), QaraঌƗwƯ clearly identifies modern-day SalafƯs as the greatest obstacle to a unification of the Muslim community in regard to this theological issue. He says that many of them believe they have all the answers and that their teaching alone represents the whole truth.88 It is this attitude that QaraঌƗwƯ fights in his book, which was written with the obvious purpose of overcoming old divisions and strengthening the unity of the umma.
4. Conclusion In his book, QaraঌƗwƯ builds up his arguments by stringing together citation after citation from various, especially pre-modern sources. By basing himself extensively on the works of widely acknowledged scholars he strengthens his own position. However, as this article argues, this method also has several disadvantages: first, the reader who is familiar with the works of the scholars upon which QaraঌƗwƯ relies heavily will be aware of the fact that most of them do not necessarily share QaraঌƗwƯ’s position of a nearly all-encompassing inclusiveness towards the different 86
Ibid., 153–55. Ibid., 149. 88 Ibid., 172. 87
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understandings of the divine attributes formulated in the Sunni tradition. Second, the page-long citations from different sources sometimes argue in favour of mutually contradictory positions, even if only in regard to minor issues. Those contradictions are ignored by QaraঌƗwƯ. Third, the citations adduced by QaraঌƗwƯ are sometimes not marked as such or clearly attributed to their source, which makes it difficult for the reader to differentiate between QaraঌƗwƯ’s own words and those of others. The main theme of the book is, however, totally clear: All three methods (tafwƯڲ, ithbƗt and taҴwƯl) that the different competing groups in Sunni Islam have adopted can be traced back to the authoritative early Muslim generations (salaf). Hence, they are, according to QaraঌƗwƯ, within the realm of the acceptable, which does not, however, imply that they are equally valid. As disagreement is one of the intrinsic attributes of human discourse, the key to the unification of the umma in regard to their position on the divine attributes is to tolerate all contemporary Sunni interpretations in this regard. This pragmatic approach is, as QaraঌƗwƯ argues, already exemplified in the Prophet’s famous approval of the mutually contradicting understandings held by his companions concerning his order not to pray the afternoon prayer until having reached the place of the tribe of Quraya. QaraঌƗwƯ also presents his own stance on how to understand God’s attributes; however, his genuine interest is to convince the reader from what has been said above. The book uses clear and contemporary language with the intention of addressing the general Muslim reader who is interested in the issue of the divine attributes and may have already been affected by the controversies surrounding it. The intricate questions on epistemology and ontology that are discussed at length by Muslim theologians are completely left out. In general, QaraঌƗwƯ uses unifying rhetoric but also does not hold back from criticising especially the modern-day SalafƯs. QaraঌƗwƯ bemoans the fact that some of them stubbornly believe they have an exclusive monopoly on religious truth. Nevertheless, QaraঌƗwƯ seeks to win over the reader who may have been affected by the SalafƯ teachings to his own more tolerant view on the disagreements between the different Sunni groups. Therefore, he calls them repeatedly “our brothers” and heavily relies on scholars whom the modern-day SalafƯs generally hold in high esteem like Ibn Taymiyya, Ibn al-JawzƯ, Ibn KathƯr, MarޏƯ and RashƯd RiঌƗ.89 89
This, however, cannot be reduced to a mere tactical move, as QaraঌƗwƯ also admires these scholars, especially Ibn Taymiyya. See Ibn al-qarya, 1:409 and Gudrun Krämer, “Drawing Boundaries: Ynjsuf al-QaraঌƗwƯ on Apostasy,” in Speaking for Islam: Religious Authorities in Muslim Societies, ed. G. Krämer and S. Schmidtke (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 194–95.
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References Binder, Leonard. Islamic Liberalism: A Critique of Development Ideologies. Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1988. Gräf, B. and J. Skovgaard-Petersen, eds. Global Mufti: The Phenomenon of Ynjsuf al-QaraڲƗwƯ. London: Hurst & Company, 2009. Gräf, Bettina. “Shaikh Ynjsuf al-QaraঌƗwƯ in Cyberspace.” Die Welt des Islams 47 (2007): 403–21. —. “The Concept of wasa৬iyya in the works of Ynjsuf al-QaraঌƗwƯ.” In Gräf; Skovgaard-Petersen, Global Mufti, 213–38. Gräf, Bettina, and Jakob Skovgaard-Petersen. “Introduction.” In Gräf; Skovgaard-Petersen, Global Mufti, 1–15. Ibn ণazƗmiyƯn al-WƗsi৬Ư. RisƗla fƯ ithbƗt al-istiwƗҴ wa-l-fawqiya watanzƯh al-BƗriҴ jalla wa-ҵalƗ ҵan al-ۊa܈r wa-l-tamthƯl wa-l-kayfiyya. Edited by ޏAdnƗn Abnj Zayd. Cairo: Maktabat al-ThaqƗfa al-dƯniyya, 2004. Ibn Taymiyya, TaqƯ l-DƯn. Majmnjҵ fatƗwƗ shaykh al-IslƗm Aۊmad ibn Taymiyya. Edited by ޏAbd ar-RaতmƗn ibn Muতammad Ibn QƗsim and Muতammad Ibn ޏAbd al-RaতmƗn ibn Muতammad. 37 vols. Riyadh, Mecca: Ma৬Ɨbi ޏal-RiyƗঌ, n.d. [1962-67]. KabƯsƯ, Muতammad ޏAyyƗsh al-. Al-܇ifƗt al-khabariyya ҵinda ahl al-sunna wa-l-jamƗҵa. Cairo: al-Maktab al-miৢrƯ l-তadƯth, 2000. Krämer, Gudrun. “Drawing Boundaries: Ynjsuf al-QaraঌƗwƯ on Apostasy.” In Speaking for Islam: Religious Authorities in Muslim Societies. Edited by G. Krämer and S. Schmidtke, 181–217. Leiden: Brill, 2006. MarޏƯ l-KaramƯ. Al-ShahƗda al-zakiyya fƯ thanƗҴ al-aҴimma ҵalƗ Ibn Taymiyya. Edited by Najm Khalaf. Amman: DƗr al-FurqƗn, 1985. QaraঌƗwƯ, Ynjsuf al-. Fu܈njl fƯ-l-ҵaqƯda bayna l-salaf wa-l-khalaf: ƖyƗt waaۊƗdƯth al-܈ifƗt - al-awliyƗҴ wa-karƗmƗtuhum - al-qubnjr wamubtadaҵƗtuhƗ - al-tawassul. Naতw waতdat fikriyya li-l-ޏƗmilƯn li-lIslƗm 6. Cairo: Maktabat Wahba. —. ۉaqƯqat al-tawۊƯd. ޏAqƗގid al-IslƗm 2. Cairo: Maktabat Wahba, 1979. —. al-ƮmƗn bi-l-qadar. Cairo: Muގassasat al-RisƗla, 2001. —. Wujnjd AllƗh. ޏAqƗގid al-IslƗm 1. Cairo: Maktabat Wahba, 2001. —. Ibn al-qarya wa-l-kuttƗb: MalƗmi ۊsƯra wa-masƯra. 4 vols. DƗr alShurnjq, 2002. —. FatƗwƗ min ajl FilasܒƯn. Silsilat rasƗގil tarshƯd al-ৢaতwa 12. Cairo: Maktabat Wahba, 2003. Stowasser, Barbara F. “Ynjsuf al-QaraঌƗwƯ on Women.” In Gräf; SkovgaardPetersen, Global Mufti, 181–212.
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Tammam, Husam. “Ynjsuf al-QaraঌƗwƯ and the Muslim Brotherhood: The Nature of a Special Relationship.” In Gräf; Skovgaard-Petersen, Global Mufti, 55–84. Wenzel-Teuber, Wendelin. Islamische Ethik und moderne Gesellschaft im Islamismus von Yusuf al-Qaradawi. Hamburg: Kovaþ, 2005. Williams, Wesley. “A Body Unlike Bodies: Transcendent Anthropomorphism in Ancient Semitic Tradition and Early Islam.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 129, no. 1 (2009): 19–44.
CHAPTER FOUR BETWEEN UNITY AND DIVERSITY: RƖSHID AL-GHANNOUCHI’S CONCEPT OF PLURALISM BENJAMIN JOKISCH
1. Introduction RƗshid al-Ghannouchi, born in 1941 in Tunisia, may be regarded as one of the leading representatives of modern Islamic thought. He not only played a central role in the Tunisian opposition against the regimes of Habib Bourguiba and Zein El Abidin Ben Ali, but he also became a highly influential figure in the Arab Spring, contributing to the establishment of a new political system in his home country. Familiar both with traditional concepts of Islam and Western philosophical thinking, he published a number of monographs and articles laying particular emphasis on political theory. His life and work have been elucidated by Azzam S. Tamimi in a detailed study published in 2001.1 Another more comprehensive study on Ghannouchi and his world view was presented by Menno Preuschaft in 2011.2 Although these studies doubtless provide a useful insight in the reformative conceptions of al-Ghannouchi, they either leave out the most recent development of the scholar’s intellectual and political activities or rather present a general survey of his opinions and arguments. The focus in the study at hand therefore will be on a particular aspect of his conceptions that is pluralism, mainly based on one of his most recent publications: al-DƯmnjqrƗܒiyya wa-ۊuqnjq al-insƗn fƯ-l-IslƗm (Democracy
1
Azzam Tamimi, Rachid Ghannouchi: A Democrat within Islamism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001). 2 Menno Preuschaft, Tunesien als islamische Demokratie? RƗšid al-ƤannnjšƯ und die Zeit nach der Revolution (Münster: Waxmann, 2011).
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and Human Rights in Islam).3 It will be shown the way in which alGhannouchi explains the tension between two principles, both strongly rooted in the history of ideas in the Islamic world: the dogma of unity (tawۊƯd) on one side, and the traditional concept of divergence (ikhtilƗf) on the other, the latter often being used to justify the modern concept of pluralism (taҵaddudiyya). But it will also be demonstrated that alGhannouchi in some cases diverges from relevant discourses of premodern Islam while emphasising and postulating the Islamic element in modern society. Once again this example reveals the ambivalence of reasoning, which takes tradition as the starting point, but nevertheless presents a number of innovations not explicitly contained in tradition.
2. Biography RƗshid al-Ghannouchi was born on 22 June 1941 in the province of Gabès in Tunisia. In his early years he was heavily influenced by his father Sheikh Muতammad, who was one of a very few literate people in the village and instructed his son in learning and memorising the QurގƗn. Undoubtedly it was his father’s critical attitude towards Sufism4 that explains al-Ghannouchi's diffidence towards this movement in his later intellectual development. At the same time, he adopted the anti-colonialist tendencies shown by Tunisians in general, and by his maternal uncle alBashƯr in particular, the latter being an admirer of President ޏAbd al-NƗৢir in Egypt and a member of the national liberation movement.5 When alGhannouchi was 7 years old he witnessed the first massive waves of antiIsraeli sentiment throughout the Arab world which made him, and still makes him, sympathetic to radical anti-Israeli movements such as Hamas. After finishing primary school, which had a Western orientation and followed the French concept of education, he received a religious education at the Zeytuna University (1959-62). But it was only later during his travels and studies in Egypt and Syria and above all in Germany the Netherlands, France and England that he developed positions which may be described as Islamist. In Europe, where he studied philosophy in Paris, he acquired a deeper knowledge of the Western way of thinking, but also had direct experience of the Western way of living, which he regarded as decadent and immoral. After his return to Tunisia he founded the Islamist 3
RƗshid al-Ghannouchi, Al-DƯmnjqrƗܒiyya wa-ۊuqnjq al-insƗn fƯ-l-IslƗm (Beirut: alDƗr al-ޏarabiyya li-l-ޏulnjm nƗshirnjn, 2012). 4 Tamimi, Rachid Ghannouchi, 5. 5 Ibid.
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movement al-JƗmi aն al-islƗmiyya which contributed to opposition to the growing process of Westernisation. What followed was a continuous and violent conflict between more or less dictatorial regimes and the Islamist movement.6 In 1973 Bourguiba banned al-JƗmiҵa al-islƗmiyya, but in 1981, inspired by the revolution in Iran, al-Ghannouchi re-founded his movement, now called Movement de la Tendence Islamique (MTI), with the consequence that he was jailed for three years and somewhat later, in 1987, even sentenced to death. In the same year, however, Zine El Abidine Ben Ali took power in Tunisia and released the Islamist leaders. Once more al-Ghannouchi revived his movement, this time called al-Nahda, but he went into exile when the movement proved too successful in parliamentary elections and was banned by the government. He spent more than twenty years in England, where his Islamist conception took on more radical traits, due to the first Gulf War and the American military presence in Saudi Arabia. According to al-Jazeera he even praised the mothers of suicide bombers. Finally, in 2011, the Arab Spring and the expulsion of Ben Ali paved the way for a second return to his home country. This time his movement, now formed into the Nahda Party, became the strongest political force in the new democratic system. Apart from his activities in the MTI and later the Nahda Party, he took on important functions in international Islamic associations such as the European Council for Fatwa and Research. Based on his image and high standing in Tunisian society he might easily assume further key positions in the political arena of Tunisia, but it has been recently declared that there will be no candidate from the Nahda Party in the presidential elections in November 2014.
3. Writings In the course of his intellectual life, which was clearly influenced by a series of quite different living conditions (jail, exile, political activities in his home country), he developed a more or less homogeneous ideology which as a whole or in parts found its expression in a large number of letters, lectures, articles and books, some of them published in English. In his writings7 al-Ghannouchi deals with a variety of interrelated aspects 6
As to this process see Lutz Rogler, “El Harakat al-Nahda y los movimientos islámicos en Túnez,” in Los movimientos islámicos transnacionales y la emergencia de un «islam europeo», ed. Frank Peter and Rafael Ortega (Barcelona: Bellaterra, 2012), 87–94. 7 For the most complete list of his writings see Tamimi, Rachid Ghannouchi, 247– 51. Further works of Ghannouchi published after 2001 are: al-DƯmnjqrƗܒiyya wa-
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reaching from philosophy, political theory, civil society, democracy, human rights, secularism and Islamic movements up to the role of women in modern society. Both in content and in form he seems to leave the traditional frame of writing characteristic of conservative Muslim scholars. Although he frequently refers to texts and authorities from the Muslim tradition, he nevertheless shows close familiarity with the writings of modern Muslim thinkers and reformers such as JamƗl al-DƯn al-AfghƗnƯ (d. 1897), Muতammad ޏAbduh (d. 1905), RashƯd RiঌƗ (d. 1935), Muতammad IqbƗl (d. 1928), Aতmad AmƯn (d. 1954), Abnj l-AޏlƗ MawdnjdƯ (d. 1979), ޏAllƗl al-FƗsƯ (d. 1974), ণasan al-TurƗbƯ and ণasan ণanafƯ. As can be seen from the titles of his publications, he lays particular emphasis on contemporary topics, which he discusses against the background—or even on the basis of—Western concepts and terms. One of the most comprehensive works by al-Ghannouchi is certainly his al-ۉurriyyƗt al-ޏƗmma fƯ-l-dawla al-islƗmiyya (General Freedoms in the Islamic State), published in 1993. It aims at giving an idea of a modern Islamic society in Tunisia,8 which in many points differs from the status quo of the Tunisian society, as becomes clear in another analysis of alGhannouchi.9 In his recent and no less comprehensive publication al-DƯmnjqrƗܒiyya wa-ۊuqnjq al-insƗn fƯ-l-IslƗm, he expounds on many aspects he had raised in earlier writings, though at some points he seems to diverge from his earlier positions. Al-DƯmnjqrƗܒiyya deals with the ideal political and legal structure of an Islamic state in the present Arab world and discusses central questions such as power, the relationship between politics and religion, freedom, human rights, the rule of law, the role of the sharƯࠣa, the relationship between Arab Muslims and non-Arab Muslims, and the permissibility of the use of violence against unjust rulers. Inspired by recent developments in other countries of the Muslim world he pays particular attention to the Turkish model, which according to him gives evidence of the ongoing vitality of Islamic movements and at the same
ۊuqnjq al-insƗn fi-l-IslƗm and “Hal mashrnj ޏal-তaraka al-islƗmiyya fƯ tarƗju?ޏ,” in al-ۉaraka al-islƗmiyya: ruҴya naqdiyya, ed. Muৢ৬afƗ l-ণabbƗb (Beirut: al-IntishƗr al-ޏarabƯ, 2011). 8 For more details of this book see Tamimi, Rachid Ghannouchi, 63–104. 9 RƗshid al-Ghannouchi, al-Mujtamaҵ al-tnjnisƯ: TaۊlƯl ۊaڲarƯ (unpublished treatise written by Ghannouchi while in prison in Tunisia, see Tamimi, Rachid Ghannouchi, 61).
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time disproves the Western hypothesis10 that political Islam has come to an end.11 It is against this political background that al-Ghannouchi's concept of pluralism will be analysed, but it has to be considered that it is nevertheless a holistic concept, which brings together Western philosophy, Muslim tradition, political theory and the practical experiences of Islamic states in the last decade.
4. The concept of pluralism 4.1. Premises Before entering into the details of al-Ghannouchi’s concept of pluralism some light must first be shed on the premises of his ideology, which in some points correlates with what may be called fundamentalist, but in others clearly differs from it. Apart from his general openness to Western concepts and the strongly political basis of his world view already mentioned, it is his closeness to reality that penetrates the whole of his ideology and in many cases has brought him in conflict with other Islamist groups and movements. He openly criticises the purely idealistic character of most of the contemporary fundamentalist concepts which in his opinion are out of touch with reality. Instead of repeating the questions posed in pre-modern Islam, he postulates the critical study of the real conditions of the present time.12 So long before the Arab Spring, and in contrast to most of his Muslim contemporaries, he supported the founding of Islamic political parties— alien to political theory in classical Islam—in order to make Islamic groups directly participate in the political process.13 Another premise, more or less resulting from the preceding one, is his critical attitude towards tradition in the broad sense. While he certainly pays much attention to the primary sources, the QurގƗn and the Sunna, and even is guided by the idea of the golden age of Medina in early Islam,14 he 10
As to this hypothesis, see, for instance, Gilles Kepel, Das Schwarzbuch des Dschihad: Aufstieg und Niedergang des Islamismus (Munich: Piper, 2002). 11 Ghannouchi, “Hal mashrnj ޏal-তaraka al-islƗmiyya fƯ tarƗju?ޏ,” 33–34. 12 RƗshid al-Ghannouchi, “Min tajribat al-তaraka al-islƗmiyya fƯ Tnjnis,” accessed April 2015, http://www.ikhwanwiki.com/index.php?title=βϧϮΗ_ϲϓ_ΔϴϣϼγϹ_ΔϛήΤϟ_ΔΑήΠΗ_Ϧϣ, chapter 8.4. 13 Tamimi, Rachid Ghannouchi, 60. 14 Preuschaft, Tunesien als islamische Demokratie?, 31.
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nevertheless is far from accepting many of the legal and theological concepts developed in early and classical Islam. He overtly questions the practical purpose of theological discussions on the relationship between substance and attributes, the createdness of the QurގƗn or whether God can be seen or not.15 KalƗm in his opinion served as an instrument of the despotic regimes of the time to divert people’s attention from the real problems. But as we will see,16 he nevertheless comes close at some points to the earliest theological doctrines of Islam. In the same way he rejects the supremacy of taqlƯd (siyƗdat al-taqlƯd), or in more general terms, the supremacy of the past, which throughout Islamic history helped to expose innovative ideas to violent attacks and to stigmatise innovators (mujaddidnjn) such as al-GhazƗlƯ (d. 505/1111) or Ibn Taymiyya (d. 728/1328). In fact all these positions show al-Ghannouchi's closeness to the reformative programme of the Salafiyya movement as represented by al-AfghƗnƯ, Muতammad ޏAbduh or RashƯd RiঌƗ and whose works al-Ghannouchi studied in prison.17
4.2. Al-Ghannouchi’s concept of pluralism (taҵaddudiyya) In the chapter “Jadaliyyat al-waۊda wa-l-ikhtilƗf wa-l-taҵaddudiyya fƯ-lIslƗm” (The dialectic between Unity and Diversity. Pluralism in Islam) in his most recent book,18 al-Ghannouchi gives a more detailed insight into what he understands by the term pluralism. He makes clear, that there still is some reluctance towards introducing innovative ideas into the field of Islamic political theory, although Islamic literature on this topic flourished in the first half of the twentieth century.19 Starting from the premise that historical development and change require the reinterpretation of scripture according to the context,20 he obviously turns to the modern concept of pluralism as practiced in the Western world and representing a necessary element of a modern state. On the other hand, he claims to have discovered the basic elements of pluralism in Muতammad’s first legal document, the Constitution of Medina.21 It was set down by the Prophet 15
Ghannouchi, “Min tajribat al-তaraka al-islƗmiyya fƯ Tnjnis,” chapter 8.1. See below. 17 Tamimi, Rachid Ghannouchi, 60 and 61. 18 Ghannouchi, Al-DƯmnjqrƗܒiyya wa-ۊuqnjq al-insƗn fƯ-l-IslƗm, 83–113. 19 Ibid., 83. 20 Ibid., 84. 21 As to text, English translation and analysis of this source, see Michael Lecker, The “Constitution of Medina”: Muۊammad’s First Legal Document (Princeton: The Darwin Press, 2004). 16
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for the founding of a state and a society which allow the coexistence of different races and religions. As is confirmed in the commentaries of RashƯd RiঌƗ and other scholars, the early Islamic state included all those who joined the community and took part in its activities. Although at the beginning the political system was based on consultation (mabdaҴ alshnjrƗ), it turned into a despotic regime (niܲƗm al-istibdƗd) in later times, inspired by the theocratic models of the Byzantine and Sasanian empires. Hence one must return to the sources and explain to what extent pluralism represents a legitimate concept of Islam. No doubt, the dogma of unity (ҵaqƯdat al-tawۊƯd) as opposed to polytheism played a central role in Islam, and certainly it contributed to the unity of both the society and the political system of the khilƗfa. On the other hand, this does not mean the exclusion of diversity, which is immanent in human nature as becomes clear in the QurގƗn: (Q. 11:116) Yet if only there had been, among the generations before you, people of lasting virtue and righteous works—forbidding corruption in the earth—other than the few among them who did so, and whom We, then, delivered from punishment! As for those who did wrong by worshipping false gods, they ungratefully followed what endued them with luxury and pleasure in life. For they were defiant unbelievers. (Q. 11:117) So beware! For never would your Lord destroy any such towns unjustly (bi-ܲulmin), while their people were doers of righteousness. (Q. 11:118) Yet, still, had your Lord so willed, He would most surely have made all people one faithcommunity. But He has endowed them with moral choice; thus there shall not cease being disputes regarding faith—(Q. 11:119) except for the firm believers among them, to whom your Lord shows mercy—and for this choice did He create them […].22
While the revelation text explicitly points to the advantages of unity and makes a clear distinction between those who do right and those who do wrong—and this is confirmed in the commentaries of RashƯd RiঌƗ and other scholars—there is still room for unbelievers in the community. Already al-RƗzƯ (d. 606/1210) interprets the term ܲulm as used in Q. 11:117 in the sense of “polytheism”, comparing it with Q. 31:13: “[...] Indeed, associating gods with God is, most surely, a great wrong (ܲulm).” According to al-Ghannouchi the divine punishment in this context does 22 In the following the QurގƗnic quotations will be based on the English translation of Ahmad Zaki Hammad, The Gracious Quran. A Modern-Phrased Interpretation in English, Lucent Interpretations (2007: Lisle, 2002). As will be seen, alGhannouchi’s interpretation of these verses in some points differs from that of Ahmad Hammad.
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not refer to unbelievers, but to those who treat each other unjustly.23 This is why the jurists explain the law of God as based on tolerance (musƗmaۊa) and indulgence (musƗhala), in contrast to that of mankind. When God created human beings, he gave them quite different attributes as to mental faculty, taste, temperament, color, physical force and skill, but what he gave them all is freedom and reason, which necessarily led to a multitude of convictions and orientations.24 In fact the passage (Q. 11:119): “[…] and for this choice did he create them [...]” points to diversity (ikhtilƗf) as the final cause (ҵilla ghƗҴiyya) of creation. It does not contradict another QurގƗnic verse (Q. 51:56): “And know that I have not created either jinn or human beings for any other end but to know and worship Me alone”, which has to be understood as only one of several causes. As long as divergence is not detrimental to truth and does not lead to injustice and hostility, it is a desirable element of society. Unlike the basics of religion (u܈njl), the details of daily life (furnjҵ) belong to the realm of ijtihƗd, which is incumbent on each individual according to his qualification.25 Mujtahids may be right or wrong in weighing and reconciling the conflicting interests of humans, but the fact that also the latter deserve reward shows the degree of tolerance (tasƗmu)ۊ characteristic of ikhtilƗf. This is why the QurގƗnic verses Q. 25.20: “[…] And We have appointed some of you a test for others: Will you be steadfast?” and Q. 67.2: “[…] Who had created life and death that He may try you which of you is best in conduct […]” point to the duty of each individual to be patient in solving societal conflicts (fitna) and to strive to be best in conduct. While al-Ghannouchi explicitly has recourse to the revelation text for emphasising the necessity of dealing with societal problems in a pluralistic and tolerant way, it is rather in passing that he takes up the concept of ijtihƗd, which indeed is used by Muslim scholars to justify the Islamic foundation of tolerance.26 He does not deal with the controversial question of the closure of the door of ijtihƗd (sadd bƗb alijtihƗd), an issue broadly discussed among Muslim scholars—both
23
Ghannouchi, al-DƯmnjqrƗܒiyya wa-ۊuqnjq al-insƗn fƯ-l-IslƗm, 86. Ibid., 87. This paragraph is reproduced in the same book on page 102 as part of the chapter „Political pluralism in Islam“, but here al-Ghannouchi refers to Sayyid Qu৬bૅs work FƯ ܲilƗl al-Qur߫Ɨn. 25 Ibid., 88. 26 On ijtihƗd and its elements of tolerance, see Abbas Poya, Anerkennung des IЂtihƗd: Legitimation der Toleranz: Möglichkeiten innerer und äußerer Toleranz im Islam am Beispiel der IЂtihƗd-Diskussion (Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Verlag, 2003). 24
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classical and modern.27 But unlike most contemporary reformers—though in conformity with the classical jurists—he makes a distinction between u܈njl and furnjҴ in the field of ijtihƗd, which in fact reduces the individual’s leeway of discretion. Remarkably enough, elsewhere he criticises kalƗm harshly, including fundamental theological doctrines, although just these —according to the majority of classical scholars—may not be the object of ijtihƗd.28 By conceding to the human being a free will as a central element of pluralism, al-Ghannouchi comes close to the theological doctrine of Qadarism,29 which emerged at the end of the 1st/7th century and was later taken over by the Muޏtazila. In his opinion, the principle of justice implies the interdependence of free will on one hand, and the responsibility for one’s deeds on the other. Divine punishment makes sense only if man has the possibility to choose between good and evil. It is just this argument that—highly elaborated—was adduced by the QadarƯs and that in some more detail goes as follows: 1) God creates only good.30 Some events, which man regards as evil, but for which he is not responsible (illness etc.) prove to be reactions of God to the sinfulness of man in order to lead him back to the right way and to prevent still more evil.31 2) Evil stems from man.32 In support of this statement, the QadarƯs refer to the destruction of Pharaoh in the Red Sea reported in Q. 20:79. 3) Man chooses freely between good and evil.33 He is capable of believing and disbelieving.34 God enabled him to distinguish between good and evil35 and delegated (tafwƯ )ڲto him the power to
27
Benjamin Jokisch, Islamisches Recht in Theorie und Praxis: Analyse einiger kaufrechtlicher Fatwas von TaqƯ‘d-DƯn Aۊmad b. Taymiyya (Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Verlag, 1996), 208–09. 28 Ibid. 29 Preuschaft, Tunesien als islamische Demokratie?, 49. 30 See al-ণasan al-BaৢrƯ, al-RisƗla, in ed. Hellmut Ritter; ‚Studien zur Geschichte der islamischen Frömmigkeit‘, Der Islam 21 (1933): 1–83, 69. 31 Ibid., 71. 32 Ibid., 69. 33 Ibid., 71 and 77. 34 Morris Seale, Muslim theology: A study of origins with reference to the Church Fathers (London: Luzac, 1964), 32. 35 BaৢrƯ, al-RisƗla, 71.
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will and act. Another term used in the sense of God’s leaving man free to act is takhliya.36 4) God only leads man into error if man has first given him occasion for this by sinning.37 He permits, but does not cause, the modification (tabdƯl) of his grace (niҵma) through man’s desire for sin. It is Satan, the enemy of man, who whispers to man and makes him lose his way.38 5) God knows from all eternity what man will choose.39 He even appoints for men their sustenance and how long they will live.40 This belief seems to contradict freedom of will, but God’s foreknowledge is a kind of assistance (tawfƯq).41 God knows what man will choose and He helps him to choose the good. But if man chooses evil, God cannot be held responsible for this. The QadarƯs were clearly opposed to the MurjiގƯs who adhered to the doctrine of predestination, but who—as may be shown—nevertheless have some points in common with al-Ghannouchi’s concept: 1) Man may not choose freely between good and evil because it is God who predetermines man’s will and deeds.42 2) God is an indivisible unity (tawۊƯd), which correlates with the indivisibility of faith.43 Both the MurjiގƯs and the early Shiites contributed to the doctrine of tawۊƯd, which is also central to alGhannouchi’s understanding. 3) The decisive criterion of adherence to the religious community is the general affirmation of God and not a specific interpretation of the divine message.44 This position implies a certain degree of tolerance and puts the unity of the religious community above stubborn dogmatism. 36
Ibid., 73. Ibid., 69 and 73. 38 A. Rippin, “Shay৬Ɨn,” in The Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition, Vol. IX, ed. C. E. Bosworth et al. (Leiden: Brill, 1997); BaৢrƯ, Al-RisƗla, 71. 39 Ibid., 77. 40 Ibid. 41 William M. Watt, Alfred T. Welch and Michael M. Marmura, Der Islam II: Politische Entwicklungen und theologische Konzepte (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1985), 2:97. 42 Ibid., 98–101. 43 Wilferd Madelung, “Murd j iގa,” in The Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition, Vol. VII, ed. C. E. Bosworth et al. (Leiden: Brill, 1993), 607. 44 Ibid. 37
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4) Faith is knowledge. According to the Jahmiyya, a later subgroup of the Murjiގa, faith only consists of knowledge in the heart and does not include affirmation with the tongue, submission and love.45 This concept reveals a kind of rationalism in which knowledge does not primarily emerge from the revelation text, but from ratio, which is more or less immanent in each individual. Since man to some extent takes part in the knowledge of God, he is not exclusively dependent on the revelation text, which like anything in this world was created in time. Both Qadarism and Murjiގism, the earliest theological movements in Islam, were later rejected as heresies and replaced by Ashޏarism and MƗturƯdism. So there is no reason for al-Ghannouchi to have recourse to these controversial doctrines. But in fact these doctrines contain a number of elements—free will, knowledge, rationalism, unity of God in particular —which seem indispensable to al-Ghannouchi’s concept.
5. Conclusion Familiar with both Muslim tradition and modern Western concepts— particularly in the field of political theory—al-Ghannouchi presents a syncretistic concept of pluralism, which, however, leaves much room for interpretation. In many points he comes close to the reformist approaches of the nineteenth/twentieth century Salafist movement in criticising or redefining tradition, rejecting theological speculation as practiced in kalƗm and reinterpreting the revelation text. On the other hand, he develops concepts of free will, knowledge and divine unity which had already been discussed in early Islam. By ignoring all these discourses al-Ghannouchi obviously tries to circumvent the controversial character of theological questions which, from the religious point of view, are immanent to the issue of pluralism. Nevertheless, his concept of pluralism does not cover the idea of pluralism as defined in modern Western states, which gives particular emphasis to the equality of opinions and convictions regardless of religion. By excluding the essentials of religion from open discussion, he narrows pluralism down to a decorative element of a civil society which, in fact, is dominated by Islam.
45
Ibid.
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References BaৢrƯ, al-ণasan al-. Al-RisƗla. Edited by Hellmut Ritter; In Studien zur Geschichte der islamischen Frömmigkeit, Der Islam 21 (1933): 1–83. Ceylan, Rauf and Benjamin Jokisch, eds. Salafismus in Deutschland: Entstehung, Radikalisierung und Prävention. Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 2014. Ghannouchi, RƗshid al-. al-Mujtamaҵ al-tnjnisƯ: TaۊlƯl ۊaڲarƯ. —. “Min tajribat al-তaraka al-islƗmiyya fƯ Tnjnis.” Accessed April 2015. http://www.ikhwanwiki.com/index.php?title= βϧϮΗ_ϲϓ_ΔϴϣϼγϹ_ΔϛήΤϟ_ΔΑήΠΗ_Ϧϣ. —. Al-ۉurriyyƗt al-ҵƗmma fƯ-l-dawla al-islƗmiyya. Beirut: Markaz DirƗsƗt al-waতda al-ޏarabƯya, 1993. —. MuqƗrabƗt fƯ-l-ҵalmƗnƯyya wa-l-mujtamaҵ al-madanƯ. London: alMarkaz al-maghƗribƯ li-l-buতnjth wa-l-tarjama, 1999. —. “Hal mashrnj ޏal-তaraka al-islƗmiyya fƯ tarƗju ”?ޏIn al-ۉaraka alislƗmiyya: ruҴya naqdiyya. Edited by Muৢ৬afƗ l-ণabbƗb, 23–47. Beirut: al-IntishƗr al-ޏarabƯ, 2011. —. Al-DƯmnjqrƗܒiyya wa-ۊuqnjq al-insƗn fƯ-l-IslƗm. Beirut: al-DƗr alޏarabƯya li-l-ޏulnjm nƗshirnjn, 2012. Hammad, Ahmad Zaki. The Gracious Quran. A Modern-Phrased Interpretation in English. Lucent Interpretations. 2007: Lisle, 2002. Jokisch, Benjamin. Islamisches Recht in Theorie und Praxis: Analyse einiger kaufrechtlicher Fatwas von TaqƯ‘d-DƯn Aۊmad b. Taymiyya. Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Verlag, 1996. —. Islamic Imperial law: HƗrnjn al-RashƯd’s Codification Project. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2007. —. “Salafistische Strömungen im vormodernen Islam.” In Ceylan; Jokisch, Salafismus in Deutschland, 15–36. Kepel, Gilles. Das Schwarzbuch des Dschihad: Aufstieg und Niedergang des Islamismus. Munich: Piper, 2002. Lecker, Michael. The “Constitution of Medina”: Muۊammad’s First Legal Document. Princeton: The Darwin Press, 2004. Madelung, Wilferd. “Murd j iގa.” In The Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition, Vol. VII. Edited by C. E. Bosworth et al., 605-07. Leiden: Brill, 1993. Poya, Abbas. Anerkennung des IЂtihƗd: Legitimation der Toleranz: Möglichkeiten innerer und äußerer Toleranz im Islam am Beispiel der IЂtihƗd-Diskussion. Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Verlag, 2003. Preuschaft, Menno. Tunesien als islamische Demokratie? RƗšid alƤannnjšƯ und die Zeit nach der Revolution. Münster: Waxmann, 2011.
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Reetz, Dietrich, ed. Sendungsbewusstsein oder Eigennutz: Zu Motivation und Selbstverständnis islamischer Mobilisierung. Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Verlag, 2001. Rippin, A. “Shay৬Ɨn.” In The Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition, Vol. IX. Edited by C. E. Bosworth et al., 409. Leiden: Brill, 1997. Rogler, Lutz. “Zur Erfahrung, Kritik und Selbstkritik im politischen Selbstverständnis tunesischer Islamisten.” In Sendungsbewusstsein oder Eigennutz: Zu Motivation und Selbstverständnis islamischer Mobilisierung. Edited by Dietrich Reetz, 199–223. Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Verlag, 2001. —. Suche nach einem ‚progressiven Islamverständnis‘: Untersuchungen zu Dis¬kurs und Praxis einer Gruppe islamischer Intellektueller in Tunesien. Leizipg University: Ph.D. dissertation, 2004. —. “El Harakat al-Nahda y los movimientos islámicos en Túnez.” In Los movimientos islámicos transnacionales y la emergencia de un «islam europeo». Edited by Frank Peter and Rafael Ortega, 87–94. Barcelona: Bellaterra, 2012. Saeed, Abdullah. “Rethinking citizenship rights of Non-Muslims in an Islamic state: RƗshid al-GhannnjshƯ’s contribution to the evolving debate.” Islam and Christian-Muslim Relations 10 (1999): 310–23. Seale, Morris. Muslim theology: A study of origins with reference to the Church Fathers. London: Luzac, 1964. Tamimi, Azzam. Rachid Ghannouchi: A Democrat within Islamism. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001. Watt, William M., Alfred T. Welch, and Michael M. Marmura. Der Islam II: Politische Entwicklungen und theologische Konzepte. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1985. Wöhler-Khalfallah, Khadija Katja. Der islamische Fundamentalismus, der Islam und die Demokratie: Algerien und Tunesien. Das Scheitern postkolonialer „Entwicklungsmodelle“ und das Streben nach einem ethischen Leitfaden für Politik und Gesellschaft. Wiesbaden: VS Verl. für Sozialwiss, 2004. Zemni, Sami. “Salafism and the Arab Revolutions: Analyzing some general trends.” In Ceylan; Jokisch, Salafismus in Deutschland, 153– 71.
CHAPTER FIVE THE THEORY OF IMƖMA ACCORDING TO SAޏƮD ণAWWƖ SAMIR SULEIMAN
1. ImƗma as an issue of Islamic theology As to whether imƗma, the political leadership of the Muslim community (umma), is a matter of theology (ҵaqƯda) or a matter of furnjҵ and thus of Islamic jurisprudence (fiqh), there are different views among the Muslims. From the perspective of ImƗmƯ Shiism the issue of al-imƗma is viewed as one of the theological fundamentals of Islam (u܈njl al-dƯn). Although this opinion is rejected in Sunni Islam, the topic of imƗma is also discussed by the Sunni scholars of theology (al-mutakallimnjn). The main reason for this rejection is likely to be the fact that the Sunni schools of theology, such as the Ashޏariyya, the MƗturƯdiyya and the Muޏtazila, saw it as their duty to counter the Shiite conceptions of the imƗma and to formulate their own conceptions of political theory.1 Against this background, it is understandable why a topic of Islamic jurisprudence should become an integral part of Sunni theological studies. Accordingly, this contribution to a book on Islamic theology gives an insight into the views of a Sunni Muslim scholar on imƗma.
2. SaޏƯd ণawwƗ 2.1. On the relevance of SaޏƯd ণawwƗގs political thought Studying the political thought of SaޏƯd ণawwƗ in general, and an examination of his reflections on the Islamic caliphate in particular, offer an insight into the approach to political theory of one of the most influential 1 See Muতammad ޏAmƗra, TayyarƗt al-fikr al-islƗmƯ, 2nd ed. (Cairo: DƗr alShurnjq, 1997), 194–95.
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Arab-Muslim scholars in the second half of the twentieth century. His works continue to exert an influence on the thinking of political activists in many Muslim countries, especially in Egypt and Algeria as well as in other parts of the Arab world such as Yemen and Palestine.2 In addition, the current civil war in Syria encouraged the author to choose SaޏƯd ণawwƗގs reflections for this study, as they represent the political thinking of one of the most prominent thinkers in the Syrian Muslim Brotherhood. From the 1950s, the Syrian Muslim Brotherhood began to form the main competition to the Baޏthist ideology that achieved a dominant position in Syria after the Arab-Socialist Baҵth Party came to power following a military coup in 1963.3 The outlawed Syrian Muslim Brotherhood is undeniably one of the most important forces in opposition to the ruling system in the ongoing conflict in Syria. For this reason, SaޏƯd ণawwƗ’s treatment of the theory of the caliphate opens the possibility for conclusions with regard to a post-revolution era should the Asad clan fall and should power be seized by the local Muslim Brotherhood, although it seems that BashshƗr al-Asad has succeeded in re-consolidating his power after it was temporarily believed to have been lost. Finally, the author’s special interest in contemporary political movements in the Arab-Islamic world led to the examination of ণawwƗގs approach, since it can be considered as representative of a gradual openness to modern political concepts on the part of the Muslim Brotherhood. Thus, on the one hand, in comparison with the convictions of the leading early thinkers of this largest, oldest and possibly most influential Islamic political organisation in the Arab world, ণawwƗގs political reflections can be considered to be developed. On the other hand, compared with the ideas of later representatives of the Muslim Brotherhood, ণawwƗގs approach can be classified in part as obsolete. However, such a comparison, which would illustrate the evolution and flexibility of Muslim thought in the field of political theory, is beyond the scope of this study.4 2
Interview with Dr Muতammad ণawwƗ on 07/06/2014 in Amman, Jordan. One of the most brutal incidents of the conflict with the secular system that was little noticed in the West and is treated as a taboo in Syria to this day—was the Syrian army’s bombardment of the besieged city of ۉamƗ, the hometown of SaޏƯd ণawwƗ, in February 1982. The death toll of the so-called ۉamƗ massacre is estimated at between 20,000 and 40,000 people. As ণawwƗ’s political ideas were consolidated long before this incident—during which moreover he was living in exile in Jordan for several years already—it can not be assumed that it had great impact on his thought. 4 For an introduction to the contemporary discussion on modern statehood in the Arab-Muslim world and for a comparison of SaޏƯd ণawwƗ’s approach with later 3
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2.2. Biographical overview5 SaޏƯd ণawwƗ was born in 1935 in the west Syrian city of ণamƗ. He was a descendant of a family that belongs to the ahl al-bayt, the lineage of the Prophet Muতammad (s.a.s.).6 He lost his mother while he was under two years old. Since his father Muতammad was active in the resistance against the former French occupation (1920–46) and was imprisoned many times, ণawwƗ was brought up mostly by his grandmother.7 In the political climate of Syria of that time, he was exposed to various political concepts, including those of Socialism and Baޏthism. Although still a student, in 1952 he decided to join the Syrian branch of the Muslim Brotherhood, where gradually he rose through the ranks from muntasib (ordinary member) to being a leading member of the Brotherhood. Later on, he became a member of the Maktab al-irshƗd al-ҵƗlamƯ (International Guidance Bureau). In this position he made numerous trips to Pakistan and various Arab states, as well as to Europe—including Germany—and to the United States. SaޏƯd ণawwƗ studied Islamic Law in the Faculty of SharƯޏa at the University of Damascus from 1956 to 1961. It was during that time, that in a matter of a few months he learned the QurގƗn by heart. However, he received his Islamic knowledge mostly through the traditional ways as a student of various scholars, such as the Damascene theologian Muতammad al-HƗshimƯ, the scholar Muৢ৬afƗ l-SibƗޏƯ and Shaykh ޏAbd al-KarƯm alRifƗޏƯ. Based on his education, SaޏƯd ণawwƗ can be considered close to concepts in the field of political theory—and for a comparison of the approach of secular thinkers with that of Ynjsuf al-QaraঌƗwƯ, for example—see Samir Suleiman, Islam, Demokratie und Moderne: Reflexionen muslimischer Denker und Gelehrter (Aachen: Shaker, 2013). For an excellent study that presents a larger range of different positions but is therefore less detailed, see Gudrun Krämer, Gottes Staat als Republik: Reflexionen zeitgenössischer Muslime zu Islam, Menschenrechten und Demokratie, Studien zu Ethnizität, Religion und Demokratie 1 (Baden-Baden: Nomos, 1999). 5 Where not explicitly stated otherwise, all information for this section has been taken from the official website on SaޏƯd ণawwƗ www.saidhawwa.com (last accessed on 07/05/2015), in addition to an interview with SaޏƯd ণawwƗ’s eldest son Dr Muতammad ণawwƗ on 07/06/2014 in Amman. 6 ܇allƗ AllƗhu ҵalayhi wa-sallam (peace and prayers of AllƗh be upon him). This phrase of respect that is said by Muslims after uttering the name of the Prophet Muতammad, is mentioned once for the entire paper. 7 For further information on ণawwƗ’s childhood, see SaޏƯd ণawwƗ, HƗdhihi tajribatƯ wa-hƗdhihi shahƗdatƯ: DirƗsƗt manhajiyya hƗdifa fƯ-l-binƗҴ (Cairo: Maktabat al-Wahba, 1987), 7–21.
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the Ashޏarite school in theology and with regard to Islamic jurisprudence close to the ণanafƯ school. However, according to his own understanding, he did not belong to any particular school, but always described himself as a mainstream Sunni Muslim of ahl al-sunna wa-l-jamƗҵa. ণawwƗ was always interested in having good relations with various schools of Islam and with other Islamic movements, including the Salafiyya in Saudi Arabia and even the Shia in Iran. However, his efforts at establishing a dialogue with the Shiites in Iran and his attempts to influence them, meeting several times with Ayatullah al-KhumaynƯ (d. 1989) and other leading figures were not successful.8 After his graduation in 1961, ণawwƗ did his military service and then worked as a religious education teacher. He was married in 1964. From 1966 to 1971 he worked as a religious education teacher and as an Arabic teacher in different cities in Saudi Arabia including Medina. After he returned to Syria in 1971, he was imprisoned from 1973 until 1978 for having placed his name on a public letter by Syrian scholars calling for the replacement of Syria’s secular constitution by an Islamic one.9 During these five years, he wrote his famous eleven-volume QurގƗnic commentary al-AsƗs fƯ-l-tafsƯr.10 After his release in 1978, he went into exile in Jordan with his family but remained a leading member of the Syrian Muslim Brotherhood for about four years. From 1982 to 1987, he was significantly involved in the activities of the international organisation of the Muslim Brotherhood, the above-mentioned Maktab al-irshƗd al-ҵƗlamƯ.11 In 1987, when he was 53 years old, SaޏƯd ণawwƗ fell seriously ill. He died on 9 March 1989 in the Islamic Hospital in Amman after having been in a coma for about three months. According to his son, Dr Muতammad ণawwƗ, SaޏƯd ণawwƗ believed that his main task was to serve the Muslim Brotherhood, and thus—in his view—to serve Islam by providing Muslims with the essential knowledge that they need to develop a strong Muslim personality. This has been one of the stated goals of the Brotherhood since its founding. Therefore, his works cover a wide range of different topics that he deals with in general terms.
8
For further information, see for example ibid., 131. For further information related to the letter and on ণawwƗ’s time in prison, see ibid., 104–29. 10 SaޏƯd ণawwƗ, al-AsƗs fƯ-l-tafsƯr, 2nd ed., 11 vols. (Cairo: DƗr al-SalƗm, 1989). 11 For further information on ণawwƗ’s life from 1978 until 1987, see ণawwƗ, HƗdhihi tajribatƯ wa-hƗdhihi shahƗdatƯ, 129–56. 9
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ণawwƗ wrote over thirty books, articles and monographs. The following books can be recommended for an introduction to his life and his thought: First of all his autobiography HƗdhihi tajribatƯ wa-hƗdhihi shahƗdatƯ that he finished about two years before his death; the above-mentioned QurގƗnic commentary al-AsƗs fƯ-l-tafsƯr, four volumes of al-AsƗs fƯ-lsunna wa-fiqhuhƗ;12 a book showing his deep connection to the Muslim Brotherhood, al-Madhkhal ilƗ daҵwat al-IkhwƗn al-MuslimƯn;13 on his political reflections, al-IslƗm;14 his Fu܈njl fƯ-l-imra wa-l-amƯr15 and Jund AllƗh takhܒƯܒan.16 Finally, for an introduction into his studies in the field of Tazkiyat al-nafs (purification of the self) one could recommend, for example, TarbiyatunƗ l-rnjۊiyya17 as well as MudhƗkarƗt fƯ manƗzil al܈iddƯqƯn wa-l-rabbƗniyƯn.18 Many of SaޏƯd ণawwƗ’s works have been translated into English, Urdu, Turkish and Malay. SaޏƯd ণawwƗ himself had no knowledge of foreign languages apart from a basic knowledge of English. ণawwƗ’s three sons, who live in Jordan, continue to spread their fatherގs thought and in some aspects of course they develop it further according to their own understanding. Each of his sons has his own area of expertise and all of them are writers themselves. His eldest son is Dr Muতammad ণawwƗ, who holds a PhD in the Science of ۉadƯth from the University of Baghdad and who currently works as a lecturer at Muގta University in Jordan at the same time as being an imƗm and preacher at a mosque in Amman. The second son is Dr Aতmad ণawwƗ who holds a PhD in Islamic Jurisprudence from the University of Jordan and has worked as a lecturer at Zarqa ގUniversity in Jordan. He regularly appears on television and radio as a scholar-preacher and Muslim jurist. The third son is Dr MuޏƗdh ণawwƗ, who holds a PhD in Islamic Jurisprudence and Theology from the University of Jordan. He works as an imƗm and
12
SaޏƯd ণawwƗ, al-ƖsƗs fƯ-l-sunna wa-fiqhuhƗ, 3rd ed., 4 vols. (Cairo: DƗr alSalƗm, 1995). 13 SaޏƯd ণawwƗ, al-Madhkhal ilƗ daҵwat al-IkhwƗn al-MuslimƯn, 7th ed. (Cairo: DƗr al-Wahba, 2006). 14 SaޏƯd ণawwƗ, al-IslƗm: Silsilat dirƗsƗt manhajiyya hƗdifa, AllƗh - al-Rasnjl - alIslƗm, 7th ed. (Cairo: DƗr al-SalƗm, 2011). 15 SaޏƯd ণawwƗ, Fu܈njl fƯ-l-imra wa-l-amƯr (Amman: Maktabat al-RisƗla alণadƯtha, 1982). 16 SaޏƯd ণawwƗ, Jund AllƗh takhܒƯܒan (Cairo: DƗr al-Wahba, 1995). 17 SaޏƯd ণawwƗ, TarbiyatunƗ al-rnjۊiyya: DirƗsƗt manhajiyya hƗdifa fƯ-l-tazkiya wa-l-tarbiya wa-l-sulnjk, 7th ed. (Cairo: DƗr al-SalƗm, 2007). 18 SaޏƯd ণawwƗ, MudhƗkarƗt fƯ manƗzil al-܈iddƯqƯn wa-l-rabbƗniyyƯn min khilƗl al-nu܈nj܈, 4th ed. (Cairo: DƗr al-SalƗm, 1999).
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preacher19 in a mosque in Amman. Dr Muতammad ণawwƗ may be considered the leading expert on the political thought of his father.
3. The theory of the state and imƗma according to SaޏƯd ণawwƗ From the large number of ণawwƗގs books, this article focuses mainly on his work al-IslƗm (800 pages) that forms the third and last volume of the series AllƗh—al-Rasul—al-IslƗm. It was first published in the early 1970s20 and later revised by ণawwƗ a couple of years before his death. In addition to al-IslƗm, though to a far less extent, this study also considers his work Fu܈njl fƯ-l-imra wa-l-amƯr (first published in 1982). As an introduction into ণawwƗގs thought, the author of this article also listened to various of his lectures. They are available on the official information website on him (www.saidhawwa.com), which is supervised by his sons. In addition, the author attended many lectures given by Dr MuޏƗdh ণawwƗ on tazkiya (self-purification) and fikr (thought) that were to some extent based on his fatherގs works. Finally, an interview with Dr Muতammad ণawwƗ was held specifically in order to discuss SaޏƯd ণawwƗގs political thought. Among the most important scholars whose works were used by ণawwƗ for his reflections on the caliphate are the founders of the four largest schools of Islamic jurisprudence in Sunni Islam. In addition, ণawwƗ referred to classic scholars of Islamic state theory such as Abnj lণasan al-MƗwardƯ (d. 450/1058), the Ashޏarite Abnj l-Fatত al-ShahrastƗnƯ (d. 548/1153), the mujtahid JalƗl al-DƯn al-Suynj৬Ư (d. 911/1505), the mufassir (commentator) ޏAbdullah al-NasafƯ (d. 710/1310), the Ɨhiri scholar ޏAlƯ ibn ণazm (d. 456/1064), the historian Ibn Khaldnjn (d. 808/1406), and the scholar of political sociology Muতammad Ibn al-Azraq (d. 896/1491). Among the twentieth century scholars that ণawwƗ referred to are ণasan al-BannƗ (d. 1949), the founder of the Muslim Brotherhood, and ޏAbd alQƗdir ޏAwda, an Egyptian judge and expert in constitutional law, who, along with other Muslim Brothers, was tried by a special military court in
19
According to an interview with Dr Muতammad ণawwƗ (07/06/2014), SaޏƯd ণawwƗ’s relatives feel safe in Jordan and are well treated by the local authorities. However, Dr MuޏƗdh ণawwƗ was (probably temporarily) prohibited from giving the Friday sermon by the Jordanian authorities at the time of writing this article. 20 The exact year could not be discovered and even ণawwƗ’s sons could only give an estimate.
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the context of an assassination attempt against JamƗl ޏAbd al-NƗৢir (d. 1970) and then was executed in 1954. The following sections illustrate some of SaޏƯd ণawwƗ’s basic reflections on the political system in general, and summarise his approach to the caliphate in particular.
3.1. The importance and character of an Islamic state In accordance with the formula that Islam is both religion and state (dƯn wa-dawla),21 SaޏƯd ণawwƗ opposed the secular dichotomous reading of religion and politics. He assumed that Muslims and by extension Muslim societies, in general, would like to live under Islamic rule.22 ণawwƗ held the view that an Islamic state or an Islamic government always needs to be accepted by the Muslims, using the words state and government in many cases synonymously.23 An Islamic state derives its legitimacy first of all from implementing Islam, meaning thereby Islam’s normative texts of the QurގƗn and the Prophet’s teachings.24 ণawwƗ considered the establishment of an Islamic state to be an urgent need (ڲarnjra). He argued that Islam needs a government or a state that puts Islam into practice and that protects and sponsors it.25 He wrote that the protection and realisation of the essential objectives (ڲarnjriyƗt) of the shariҵa26 can only be assured by an Islamic state. Only such a state could protect Islamic theology (ҵaqƯda) from being adulterated in, for example, applying the punishment of apostasy. It would enforce ҵibadƗt (acts of worship) by disciplining those too lazy to pray, it would those who avoid paying the zakat to pay it,27 would punish those who do not observe the obligatory fast during the month of RamaڲƗn, and threaten those who possess the physical and financial ability to perform the pilgrimage (ۊajj) 21
ণawwƗ, al-IslƗm, 373. This appears for example in ণawwƗ’s reflections on the human being and on the Islamic society. See ibid., for example ibid., 207–328. 23 See ibid., for example 291, 334. 24 See ibid., for example 291, 373. 25 See ibid., 331. 26 These are the protection of al-dƯn (religion), al-ҵaql (intellect), al-nafs (life), almƗl (property), al-nasl (posterity) and al-ҵir( ڲhonour/dignity). See ibid., for example 210–15. 27 The common translations of zakƗt as “alms-giving” (voluntary) or as poor rate (paid like a tax) must be considered inappropriate from a scholarly point of view. ZakƗt (literally pureness) actually is a religious duty and a right of the poor. ZakƗt is a consciously-practiced act of worship (ҵibƗda) and self-purification. 22
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but refuse to do so. An Islamic state would also protect life (al-nafs) by prosecuting unlawful killing, dignity by punishing libel and slander and property (al-mƗl) by prosecuting any form of illegal property acquisition. Moreover, an Islamic state would practice jihƗd by fending off external enemies. ণawwƗ also considered the Islamic state capable of paving the way for Muslims to have a solid education and for the promotion of learning. Only an Islamic state, he believed, has the ability to align politics, economy, and social and cultural life with Islam28 and to restrain people from acting out their affections and inclinations.29 It is obvious that the state ণawwƗ had in mind is one that regularly intervenes in the daily affairs of its citizens. Nevertheless, he apparently did not recognise any contradiction between this concept of state and his criticism—which follows a few paragraphs later—of contemporary unIslamic political systems for forcing their subjects to conform to the ruling ideology by controlling the minutest details of their lives. In such systems, he said, Islam would run the risk of dissolving. Examples of this phenomenon are the situation of Islam under the current rule of un-Islamic governments in the Islamic world, as well as the situation of Muslims in China and in the Soviet Union.30 According to ণawwƗ, an Islamic government has a positive impact not only on Muslims but on humanity as a whole. He tried to substantiate this claim by saying that there are two types of human development. The first is related to the endeavor to give humanity the power to control nature and to benefit from it. The second is related to ethics and morality and is the development of the human value system. Without Islam as a benchmark, humanity might develop in the sense of the first type but it would always remain unprogressive with regard to ethics and morality. Hence, an Islamic state becomes the conditio sine qua non for the realisation of both types of development.31 Against this background, the establishment and preservation of an Islamic state is an urgent duty, as it would carry Islam
28
See ibid., 331. See ibid., 332. 30 See ibid. 31 To get also a visual impression of SaޏƯd ণawwƗ, the following part of a lecture on “Islamic culture”, one of the rare video records of ণawwƗ, is recommended at this point. It can be downloaded from YouTube. See http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=APfng3dD4Fk (Last accessed on 07/05/2015). 29
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into the world, not by compulsion32 but by portraying Islam to humanity as the path towards salvation and justice. In addition to the above-mentioned reflections, ণawwƗ explained that the Islamic way of life is the way of life of the community (umma). This single aspect is enough to oblige Muslims to work for the establishment of an Islamic state.33 ণawwƗ held the view that the Muslim community is a single unit. All Muslims are obliged to consider themselves members of that one community, for God said in the QurގƗn34 that he created one Muslim community. The unity of the Muslim umma can be recognised in the following seven aspects: First, al-tawۊƯd (bearing witness to the oneness of God) is a unifying element in the theology of all Muslims. Second, the identical performance of the ҵibadƗt (acts of worship), for example performing prayer (al-܈alƗt) in the same direction (al-qibla), everyone fasting equally during the month of RamaঌƗn, and the standard performance of the ۊajj once in the life of every Muslim. Third, he described the element of unity that appears in Muslims’ daily lives and in their Islamic behaviour, as well as in the common ethical values and customs that were provided for them by the Sunna of the Prophet Muতammad. Fourth, he wrote that Muslims, in addition to their particular historical backgrounds, have a common history in the lives of the prophets in general, and in the sƯra, the life of the Prophet Muতammad, in particular. Fifth, he identified a unifying aspect in the Arabic language of the QurގƗn that every Muslim is recommended to learn. Sixth, all Muslims share a constitution and law that is based on the two main normative sources, the QurގƗn and Sunna, and no Muslim strives to establish a law that contradicts these two fundamental sources of his religion. Finally, a unifying element of the umma is its sole leadership by the Prophet Muতammad, and since his death, a caliph.35 Since the Muslim umma can only be one community, this umma needs one Islamic state, and this state has to be under the leadership of one caliph. In his book Fu܈njl fƯ-l-imra wa-l-amƯr, ণawwƗ therefore suggested 32
See ণawwƗ, al-IslƗm, 332–33. Concerning ণawwƗ’s rejection of the use of force to make non-Muslims convert to Islam, see also ibid., 210–11; see also QurގƗn 2:256. 33 See ণawwƗ, al-IslƗm, 333–34. 34 See also QurގƗn 21:92 and 23:52. 35 See ণawwƗ, al-IslƗm, 336–42.
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the creation of the United Islamic States (dawlat al-wilayƗt al-islƗmiyya al-muttaۊida).36 This kind of a federal state could be brought into being by including existing Muslim countries as its constituent states (wilayƗt).37 It is worth mentioning that ণawwƗ’s writings show a cautious openness to modern state structures. An example that might be mentioned here is a social contract that appears implicitly in his reflections on the bayҵa, the Muslims ގoath of allegiance to their leader. He also referred to the basic concepts of a state of law, such as the binding force of law for all Muslims regardless of their position, as well as the idea of a modern constitution in general. Such a constitution is necessary to place the rights and the duties of the institutions of the state, as well as their actions on a clear legal foundation. In this context, he also wrote of the possibility of establishing an Islamic constitutional court in modern times. ণawwƗގs writings show an openness to a multi-party as well as to a parliamentary system. Moreover, he stated that he was striving for a liberal state, while at the same time it is obvious that his concept of liberty only permits liberty within the parameters of Islam.38 According to ণawwƗ, Islamic statehood is different from any other type of government, because an Islamic state is neither a nation state and nor does it accept any form of racism or tribalism. Its leader acts as the representative of the Prophet Muতammad. Nevertheless, the Islamic state is similar in many ways to certain aspects of other political systems.39 Finally, it is worth mentioning that a comparison of some of ণawwƗ’s positions from different stages of his life show a gradual shift towards more liberal ideas.40 An example of this is his stance on the rights of nonMuslims in an Islamic state.41 36
ণawwƗ, Fu܈njl fƯ-l-imra, 195. See on this and for further information, ibid., 195–98. 38 See ণawwƗ, al-IslƗm, for example 334, 361 in addition to ণawwƗ, Fu܈njl fƯ-limra, 118–19, 140. See on ণawwƗ’s understanding of freedom, also ণawwƗ, alIslƗm, 288–89. 39 See ণawwƗ, al-IslƗm, 286–87, in addition to 360. 40 This also was one of the results of a discussion with Dr Muতammad ণawwƗ (interview with Dr Muতammad ণawwƗ on 07/06/2014 in Amman). 41 In ণawwƗ’s book al-IslƗm, first published in the beginning of the 1970s, nonMuslims are generally excluded from governmental positions in the state (see ণawwƗ, al-IslƗm, for example 223), while in 1980, ণawwƗ—at that time a leading member of the Syrian Muslim Brotherhood—signed an official statement published by the Brotherhood under the title BayƗn al-thawra al-islƗmiyya that seems to be much more liberal on this matter. See and compare ޏAdnƗn Saޏd alDƯn, al-IkhwƗn al-Muslimnjn fƯ Snjriya: Min ҵƗm 1977 wa-ۊattƗ ҵƗm 1983, 4 vols. (Amman: DƗr ޏAmmƗr, 2009), 203, 209, and for example 229. 37
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3.2. The caliphate / al-imƗma al-ҵuܲmƗ Having outlined so far the necessary foundations for understanding ণawwƗގs political thought, the following sections will give an insight into his theory of imƗma. The caliph, of which there can only be one at any one time, according to the vast majority of Muslim scholars,42 as ণawwƗ explained based on several statements by the first caliph of Islam Abnj Bakr, is the representative and the successor of the Prophet Muতammad, the successor of the Messenger of God (khalƯfat rasnjl AllƗh). ণawwƗ rejected the title Representative of God (khalƯfat AllƗh) for the caliph, because it was rejected by the first caliph of Islam Abnj Bakr. Other terms that he mentioned and that are used to describe the Islamic state include khilƗfa (caliphate), imƗma as well as al-imƗma al-ҵuܲmƗ (the great leadership led by al-imƗm al-aҵܲam to clarify its difference from the imƗma in the meaning of leadership in prayer). He also said that the caliph’s title amƯr al-muҴminƯn (Commander of the Faithful) originates, as is generally known, from the period when ޏUmar ibn al-Kha৬৬Ɨb held the office.43 He explained the point that the position of the caliph cannot be equated with the position of a monarch, referring thereby to sayings of the caliph ޏUmar.44 In addition, he considered the caliph to be the highest representative of the Muslim community (nƗҴib ҵan al-umma)45 and a symbol of its unity.46 The caliph is the head of the Islamic state (raҴƯs aldawla al-islƗmiyya)47 and at the same time the head of the Islamic government (raҴƯs al-ۊuknjma al-islƗmiyya)48. Like all other Muslims the caliph has to adhere to the law and he can be prosecuted in a case of transgression like any other Muslim.49
42
ণawwƗ argues against the admissiblility of multiple, simultaneous caliphs, see ণawwƗ, al-IslƗm, 367–68. 43 See ibid., 372–74. 44 See ibid., 363. 45 Ibid., 397. 46 See ibid., 342. 47 Ibid., 372. 48 Ibid., 373. 49 See ibid., 562–63. This means that the caliph has no immunity. This also is the case with regard to the members of the parliament in an Islamic state (see ibid., 566).
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3.2.1. The caliphate as a religious duty ণawwƗ held the view that as long as the caliphate does not exist, it is an obligation to every single Muslim (far ڲҵaynƯ) to contribute (as far as possible) to its establishment.50 Like the great schools of Islamic theology, he believed that the caliphate is a matter of duty (wujnjb al-imƗma). According to this position, it was the consensus (ijmƗҵ) among the companions of the Prophet Muতammad, their students and also the later generations of Islamic scholars that the Muslim community must be governed by a caliph. To back up this claim, ণawwƗ referred to, among others, the writings of Ibn Khaldnjn and al-NasafƯ and to the explanations given by Abnj l-Fatত al-ShahrastƗnƯ for textual evidence.51 In summary, ণawwƗ gave the following reasons for the imperative of the establishment of a caliphate by the Muslim umma:52 Firstly, the imƗma was a sunna fiҵliyya (non-verbal practical sunna) of the Prophet Muতammad and therefore it was a practical example for the whole Muslim community when he founded an Islamic polity under his leadership in Medina. In addition to the announcement of the message of Islam the Prophet’s tasks involved creating an Islamic state and then administering it within the limits of Islam. With the death of the Prophet, the message to mankind was completed, and what remained were the two other tasks that had to be continued by his successors. Secondly, ণawwƗ referred to the clear view of the ܈aۊƗba—and thus of those individuals who could learn about the religion directly from the Prophet—on the issue of the khilƗfa, that is their consensus concerning its obligatory character. He stated that even if later on there occurred a dispute with regard to who was the appropriate caliph, there was never any disagreement about the fundamental need for a caliphate. Thirdly, ণawwƗ explained that a large number of obligatory acts in Islam (wƗjib) require the existence of a caliphate and according to the well-known rule of jurisprudence (qƗҵida fiqhiyya) “mƗ lƗ yatim al-wƗjib illƗ bihi fa-huwa wƗjib”53 (all that is necessary for the performance of an obligatory action, is obligatory itself), hence the caliphate itself becomes wƗjib. So, for example it is an obligation to lead the umma to the good and to promote all that is useful for it. It is also a duty to keep any harm and all that is bad away from the umma. According to ণawwƗ, this can only be performed through the unity of the umma and by a strong leadership. In 50
See ibid., 333, 374. See ibid., 360. 52 See on the following ibid., 374–77. 53 Quoted from ibid., 375 (translated by the author). 51
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addition to that, the umma is in need of a body that acts as a mediator in case of dispute and that sets a legal standard for the resolution of disagreements. Otherwise, the Islamic umma could easily become enmeshed in internal conflict (fitna), chaos and weakness without any guidance to the point of the suspension of the practice of Islam. One of the consequences of such disorder is the vulnerability of the Islamic umma as it can be seen today. ণawwƗ cited verses of the QurގƗn and quoted prophetic teachings that show, according to him, the clear duty of following a caliph. He gave as an example a tradition in which the Prophet Muতammad stated, in an approximate translation: “There will not be a prophet after me, but there will be caliphs and they will become plenty. And they [the companions of the Prophet] said: So what do you order us to do? He said: Give to them your bayҵa and treat them according to their rights. AllƗh will judge them according to their ruling.”54 And in the QurގƗn one can read in approximate translation: “Oh you who believe! Obey God and obey the Apostle and those who conduct your affairs.”55 And in another tradition of the Prophet Muতammad cited by ণawwƗ, the Prophet said: “Who obeys me, has obeyed God. And who disobeys me, has disobeyed God. And who obeys the amƯr, has obeyed me. And who disobeys the amƯr, has disobeyed me.”56 Finally, according to another tradition the Prophet stated: “Whoever is disobedient and removes himself from the community will die the death of jƗhiliyya”,57 that is someone who dies in ignorance of divine guidance. In the same context ণawwƗ mentioned several other prophetic traditions to corroborate his position that Muslims are obliged to appoint an amƯr, even when they go on a journey and even if they are only a group of three. With an amƯr they are able not only determine their aims together but also help each other under his guidance to reach their common goals.58 All these above-mentioned aspects, according to ণawwƗ, furnish evidence for his opinion that it is not only the duty of the Muslim umma to be one community, but also to have an Islamic state and to elect a new leader, a caliph, as soon as this position becomes vacant. 54
Quoted from ibid., 376 (translated by the author). See ibid., 375 and QurގƗn 4:59. For further information on ণawwƗ’s understanding of this verse, see also ণawwƗ, al-AsƗs fƯ-l-tafsƯr, 2:1099–1105. Note: The English translation of QurҴƗn was taken from: Translation of the Meanings of the Glorious QurҴan, approved by the Ministry of Awqaf and Islamic Affairs, The Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan: Translated by RashƯd S. KassƗb (Amman: Ma৬Ɨbi ޏal-ƮmƗn, 1994). 56 Quoted from ণawwƗ, al-IslƗm, 376 (translated by the author). 57 Quoted from ibid., 375 (translated by the author). 58 See ibid., 377. 55
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3.2.2. The qualities of the imƗm Like other classic approaches on the theory of the khilƗfa, that of SaޏƯd ণawwƗ concentrates to a large extent on the personal qualities of the imƗm. Referring to the famous al-AۊkƗm al-sulܒƗniyya59 by al-MƗwardƯ among others, he gave eight conditions that a person has to meet in order to qualify for the position of the caliph.60 First of all, the imƗm has to be a Muslim (shar ܒal-islƗm). This can be understood both from clear texts in the QurގƗn61 where the believers are obliged to choose a walƯ (here: leader) from their own community and also from the clearly formulated ban (taۊrƯm) on Muslims giving authority over themselves to a non-Muslim.62 Secondly, the caliph has to be male (shar ܒal-dhuknjra), as this position is not compatible with the nature of a woman. In this context, ণawwƗ mentioned for example that the caliph has to lead the army. Besides, there are clear prophetic traditons saying that peoples led by a woman will not be successful in the long term.63 Thirdly, the imƗm has to be of sound mind (ҵƗqil) and mature (bƗligh) (shar ܒal-taklƯf), in other words and according to the terminology of Muslim jurists, he has to be mukallaf and thus have mastery over and awareness of his actions. Fourthly, the khalƯfa must have reached a certain level of knowledge (shar ܒal-ҵilm) both in Islam—as it is his most important task to implement Islam and to shape policy within the limits of Islam—and in a variety of other fields of knowledge that are essential to the leadership of a state, such as history and international law. ণawwƗ explained that scholars have different opinions as to whether the khalƯfa can be merely a muqallid (follower of others) or if he must have reached the level of a mujtahid, which is someone who is qualified to evaluate Islamic law by means of his own ijtihƗd. Fifthly, the imƗm must have a good reputation (shar ܒal-ҵadƗla). Al-ҵadƗla as defined by ণawwƗ, referring to the scholars of fiqh, entails carrying out all the religious duties (farƗҴi )ڲand abiding by the ethical and moral values of Islam (al-akhlƗq), as well as refraining from their opposite and from any acts inconsistent with what is regarded as decency or manly conduct (al-murnjҴa). Sixth, the imƗm has to have the necessary personal
59 See for example the following edition: ޏAlƯ Ibn Muতammad al-MƗwardƯ, KitƗb al-aۊkƗm al-sulܒƗniyya wa-l-wilƗyƗt al-dƯniyya, ed. Aতmad MubƗrak al-BaghdƗdƯ (Mansura: DƗr al-WafƗގ, 1981). 60 On the following, see ণawwƗ, al-IslƗm, 377–83. 61 See also QurҴƗn 3:28. 62 See also QurҴƗn 8:73. 63 See ণawwƗ, al-IslƗm, 378.
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skills to be a leader (shar ܒal-kifƗya). Seventh, he has to be of sound body (shar ܒal-salƗma) so as to be able to carry out his duties properly. Finally, ণawwƗ mentions that the majority of scholars (jumhnjr) consider it a further precondition that the caliph is from the tribe of Quraysh (shar ܒal-qurashiyya). Nevertheless, ণawwƗ seems not to be convinced of that position and therefore also presents the opinions of other scholars. Among others, ণawwƗ seems to subscribe to the view of Ibn Khaldnjn who limited the precondition of al-qurashiyya to the times of early Islam, when the tribe of Quraysh was predestinated to provide the leader of the Muslim umma due to its size and its strength in comparison with the other tribes of the Arabian Peninsula. However, the tribe of Quraysh lost these advantages when Islam spread to other parts of the world. Moreover, ণawwƗ cited other prophetic sayings that declare nonArabs can be leaders of the Muslim community. Furthermore, he said that some scholars even preferred the caliph to be from a small tribe, so that if he failed in the performance his duties, it would be easier to despose him. Finally, ণawwƗ emphasized the fact that all scholars who hold the view that al-qurashiyya is a precondition (shar )ܒfor being the imƗm considered this shar ܒto be abrogated in case of urgent need (ڲarnjra).64 At the end of this section it is worth mentioning that ণawwƗ presented the view that the list of the shurnj( ܒplural of shar )ܒcould also be extended if deemed necessary and of benefit for the umma in modern times. For example, he suggested a certain academic degree or a minimum age as a requirement for the caliphate. However, according to ণawwƗ, it is the umma itself or the ahl al-shnjrƗ (people of consultation) who have the right to discuss and ascertain whether it is necessary to establish such additional criteria. 3.2.3. The installation of the caliph ণawwƗ pointed out more than once that it is very important that the amƯr (here: leader) should be elected by the people and that he must be accepted by them, as Islam rejects any form of tyranny. Among others, he cited the ۊadƯth “Who leads the people in prayer as an imƗm without their acceptance, his prayer will not rise up higher than his ears.”65 He concluded that if the people’s acceptance is that important with regard to
64
For further reading on the issue of the condition of al-qurashiyya, see ibid., 364– 66. 65 Quoted from ibid., 361 (translated by the author), see also 291.
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an imƗm who leads them in prayer, how much more so is their acceptance with regard to the imƗm of the entire umma.66 In several places he explained that, according to Islam, someone who seeks the position of the caliph is not allowed to attain it, as this can be seen as a predictor of a later misuse of authority and a sign of the striving for self-interest by the candidate. ণawwƗ cited a couple of prophetic traditions in support of his position.67 He explains that there is only one legitimate procedure to install a caliph, and this consists of three steps: firstly, the nomination in the form of an offer (ƯjƗb) to a candidate by the so called ahl al-ۊall wa-l-ҵaqd (also called ahl al-raҴƯ), that is the scholars or the experts (this is not specified by ণawwƗ), as a result of their consultation (shnjrƗ); secondly, the subsequent acceptance (qabnjl) of this offer by the candidate, and; thirdly, the bayҵa to the candidate. Not till then, would the candidate become the caliph.68 In his study of the installation practice from the time of the four Rightly Guided Caliphs (al-khulafƗҴ al-rƗshidnjn), ণawwƗ again came to the above-mentioned conclusion. In all four cases, there was a consultation (by the ahl al-raҴƯ) followed by the nomination of the candidate, and finally the bayҵa. For example, Abnj Bakr was nominated as the ƯmƗm from among the an܈Ɨr (literally: helpers) who had gathered for consultation. Their nomination was accepted by other attendant companions of the Prophet, as well as by Abnj Bakr himself, and finally he was accepted by the community the next day when they convened in the mosque and pledged allegiance to Abnj Bakr. The installation of Abnj Bakrގs successor ޏUmar was also not a simple appointment by his predecessor in office. The nomination of ޏUmar by Abnj Bakr during the latter’s lifetime did not constitute more than a recommendation based on Abnj Bakr’s consultation with other companions of the Prophet. Furthermore, ޏUmar did not become the caliph until he had expressed his own consent and received the bayҵa of the assembled community. Had this been otherwise, he would not have had to ask the Muslims of Medina for their affirmation. ޏUmar, in turn, when he was dying recommended six candidates for the succession. There followed intense discussion by the assembled Muslims in the mosque that led to the nomination of ޏUthman as candidate and to the community giving him the bayҵa. Finally, an analysis of the installation of ޏAli led ণawwƗ to the conclusion that he was first recommended by several ܈aۊƗba from the an܈Ɨr as well as from the muhƗjirnjn (literally: 66
See ibid., 291, 361–62. See ibid., for example 362 and 394–95. 68 See on that and on the following ibid., 383–88. 67
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emigrants). ޏAlƯ, although at first reluctant, accepted his nomination, and then he was accepted by the assembled Muslims in the mosque who gave him their bayҵa. As a result, any appointment of a caliph without consultation (shnjrƗ) and without a free bayҵa must be considered illegitimate. ণawwƗ wrote that this opinion also correlates with that of the Umayyad caliph, ޏUmar Ibn ޏAbd al-ޏAzƯz (r. 99-101/717–20), who besides the four Rightly Guided Caliphs was one of the few, who adhered to the above-mentioned procedure.69 Finally, it is worth mentioning that ণawwƗ put forward the view that the above-mentioned procedure for the installation of the caliph could also be modified in modern times, for example by electing the candidate and then the umma giving the bayҵa to him or by a political party (ۊizb) nominating the candidate and then the umma giving him the bayҵa.70 3.2.4. The duties and the rights of the imƗm According to SaޏƯd ণawwƗ, the duties of the imƗm can be summed up under two headings: First of all, the implementation of Islam (iqƗmat alIslƗm)71 and, secondly, an Islamic governance (idƗrat shuҴnjn al-dawla fƯ ۊudnjd al-IslƗm).72 This also includes the caliph’s obligation to practice the shnjrƗ. Without any explanations or any reference to the debate among Muslim scholars concerning the question as to whether the results of the shnjrƗ are binding on the caliph or not, he considered its results to be so.73 This, in conjunction with other explanations presented by ণawwƗ, make it clear that the caliph’s obligation to practice the shnjrƗ does not play any role in issues that are anyway well-regulated by distinct texts (na ܈܈qaܒҵƯ lthubnjt) in the QurގƗn or in the Sunna.74 Referring to different writings, above all to al-AۊkƗm al-sulܒƗniyya by al-MƗwardƯ, ণawwƗ mentioned the following ten duties of the caliph:75 His first duty is the protection and the conservation of Islam according to its authentic understanding by the salaf (the righteous ancestors) of the 69
See ibid., 388. See ibid., 395, note 2. Without any further explanations or any reference to the debate among Muslim scholars concerning the permissibility of a party system, ণawwƗ apparently considered a multi-party system permissible in Islam. 71 Ibid., 395. 72 Ibid., 395. 73 See ibid., 395 and 372–73. 74 See ibid., for example 363. 75 On the following, see ibid., 395–96. 70
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umma. Second, ণawwƗ referred to the caliph’s duty to implement an Islamic judicial system. Third, it is the duty of the imƗm to assure the internal security of the state. Fourthly, the imƗm has to implement punishment for serious crimes (ۊudnjd). Fifth, the caliph has to assure the external security of the state, taking all measures necessary. Sixth, he has to practice jihƗd against those who do not wish to become Muslims and at the same time are not willing to live under an Islamic rule as its nonMuslim citizens (ahl al-dhimma).76 Seventh, he mentioned the fair collection and distribution of all goods taken from enemies without force (al-fayҴ). Eighth, he talked about equitable financial management, and ninthly, he pointed out that the caliph has to make sure that the Islamic state is run by qualified people. Tenth, it is a duty of the caliph to always attend to the affairs of the umma himself. In terms of the rights of the caliph, ণawwƗ explained his right to allegiance and obedience (al-samҵ wa-l-ܒƗҵa) with regard to any decisions that do not run contrary to Islam.77 Also such aspects that are classified as neutral (mubƗ )ۊin Islamic jurisprudence turn into obligations (wƗjib) if they have been ordered by an Islamic caliph. As an example of this ণawwƗ mentioned road traffic regulations.78 The second right of the caliph is an appropriate salary, paid from public funds, so that his own living and accommodation as well as that of his immediate family are assured.79 At the end of this section, it is worth mentioning that ণawwƗ considered it to be the right of the caliph, in cooperation with the consultative council (majlis al-shnjrƗ), to determine which laws are decisive in case of different opinions concerning an issue. He also held the view that it is possible to implement different laws in different places with consideration given to the predominant schools of fiqh or any other circumstances that exist in the various provinces of an Islamic state.80 3.2.5. Term of office and deposition of the imƗm Finally, the issues of the term of office and that of the deposition of the imƗm as they are presented by SaޏƯd ণawwƗ can be summarised as 76 The people of the dhimma have to pay the jizya if they do not serve in the army or belong to those who do not have to serve in the army (for example women, children, priests, sick or disabled persons etc.). See ibid., for example 223–24. 77 See ibid., 396–97 and 368–69. 78 See ibid., 312. 79 See ibid., 397. 80 See ibid., 341.
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follows: In conformity with the model of the Rightly Guided Caliphs, the caliphގs term of office should be for life. ণawwƗ wrote that history illustrates that the life-long rule of the caliph is of advantage, as it leads to stability by minimising competition and rivalry for his position. However, the caliph’ss term of office can be truncated if this is considered to be in the interest of the umma.81 Besides the death of the caliph, there are two other possibilities that lead to the end of his office. These are his withdrawal, as in the case of MuޏƗwiya II (r. 64/683–84), or his deposition.82 The caliph can call for a vote of confidence at any time, as was done by Abnj Bakr.83 As mentioned earlier, it is the obligation of every Muslim to give obedience to a righteous caliph who carries out his duty of implementing Islam. Any kind of uprising (khurnjj) against him must be considered prohibited (ۊarƗm).84 However, as also mentioned earlier, a caliph is only installed provided that he meets certain conditions and so it is within the rights of the umma to depose their caliph in the case of his no longer meeting them. Examples are the loss of his good reputation (ҵadƗla) or the caliph’s inability to perform his tasks for reasons of health. In this context, ণawwƗ explained the different positions regarding the loss of al-ҵadƗla consequent to violating the rules of Islam (fisq). He differentiated between two types of fisq. One is the result of lustfulness for example illegal sexual contact (zinƗ) or alcohol consumption, the other is a type of fisq that strikes the ҵaqƯda and thus the Islamic beliefs of the caliph. ণawwƗ pointed out that the majority of Muslim scholars (jumhnjr) have supported the notion of the deposition of a caliph should he forfeit his ҵadƗla. Some have even held the view that any form of fisq automatically85 leads to the loss of his position. However, there are different opinions on how to proceed if the caliph repents of his wrongdoing. Moreover, with regard to the fisq of alҵaqƯda, ণawwƗ pointed out that some scholars distinguish between whether it is tantamount to apostasy and thus a form of kufr (faithlessness) or not. ণawwƗ also referred to the debate among Islamic scholars on the question as to whether the deposition of a caliph is reasonable if it leads to conflict (fitna) within the Muslim umma.86 Another form of fisq that
81
See ibid., 362 and 389. See ibid., 389. 83 See ibid., 363. 84 See ibid., for example 368. 85 See ibid., 370. 86 See ibid., 389–91. 82
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justifies the deposition of the caliph is his disregard of the obligation to practice the shnjrƗ.87 ণawwƗ said that the Prophet Muতammad gave only two reasons that allow Muslims to oppose an imƗm. These are tark al-܈alƗt (the forsaking of prayer) and al-kufr (faithlessness or in this case apostasy from Islam).88 In another tradition from the Prophet this aspect is further clarified when he says that a Muslim is obliged to obey the caliph, unless he finds in his behaviour a “kufran bawƗۊan lakum min AllƗh fƯhi burhƗn”,89 meaning “a clear faithlessness for that you have clear evidence from AllƗh”. ণawwƗ explained kufr bawƗ( ۊclear faithlessness) as being any behaviour that runs contrary to the declaration of oneގs faith (mƗ yanqu ڲal-shahƗdatayn).90 However, he concluded that when the caliph suspends Islamic law (alsharƯҵa) or does not rule the state according to Islam, it becomes a duty for every Muslim to do his utmost to rebel against him.91 With regard to deposing of the caliph for reasons of health referring to al-MƗwardƯ, he gave the various opinions of Islamic scholars on the different degrees of severity of these and the debate as to when exactly his removal would be justified.92 Finally, it is worth mentioning that ণawwƗ encouraged the Muslim umma to learn from the experiences of non-Muslim political systems with regard to the matter of deposing the head of the Islamic state should he have forfeited his ҵadƗla. He mentioned the former president of the United States, Richard Nixon, who had to resign as a result of the Watergate scandal in the early 1970s and that his resignation and replacement took place smoothly due to the existence of an effective constitutional order.93
4. Conclusion Any description of the role of the head of a state will always stay fragmentary if it does not include an analysis of the role in the political system as a whole. However, the position of a caliph is presented largely in isolation in ণawwƗގs writings. His approach does not take in a political system as a whole.
87
See ibid., 363. See ibid., 369. 89 Quoted from ibid., 370 (translated by the author). 90 Ibid. 91 See ibid., 369–70. 92 See ibid., 391. 93 See ibid., 370. 88
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On the one hand, ণawwƗ obviously rejected tyranny and the use of force against non-Muslims to convert to Islam. On the other hand, his approach remained very theoretical and mostly imprecise. Moreover, he considered it to be reasonable and realistic to oblige Muslims to perform their individual duties to God94—to the point that the Islamic government should even discipline those who are too lazy to pray or do not wish to go to ۊajj.95 Therefore, there exists the danger that in reality his conception of the caliphate could effect a drift into an autocratic if not in some aspects a totalitarian type of goverment. A reader who expected to find in ণawwƗގs approach great innovations within the bounds of possibility—that is within the bounds of ijtihƗd— might be disappointed despite ণawwƗ’s intention to analyze modern political structures to learn from them. Too many aspects remain too theoretical in ণawwƗ’s works, too many questions remain unanswered, and too many important issues are postponed for later examination. However, it should be taken into consideration that SaޏƯd ণawwƗ wrote his works as someone who was politically persecuted, totally excluded from the political process in his home country, imprisoned for many years, forced to leave his homeland to go into exile, and who had to watch his home town being bombed by the Syrian airforce. According to ণawwƗ’s son—Muতammad ণawwƗ—his father’s reflections concerning the political system in general, and concerning the caliphate in particular might have shown a different dimension of the use of ijtihƗd if they had been written from inside the political process and thus as a result of free political activity, including a constructive discussion on how to handle the political, the economic and the social realities in the Muslim world, a phenomenon that can clearly be seen with regard to any ideological players that (more or less suddenly) have had to deal with political realities instead of simply theoretical conceptions. Moreover, it should not be forgotten that ণawwƗ naturally wrote his works as a man of his time, within the global context of the confrontation with Communism during the Cold War, and in an era which predated the expansion of the Internet and of satellite TV. For this reason, too, one could expect that were he alive today he would have revised some of his
94
Having brought up this aspect in an interview with SaޏƯd ণawwƗ’s son, Dr Muতammad ণawwƗ, he explained that he would prefer an Islamic state that creates and upholds the framework requirements for a practice of Islam, but that does not interfere in the people’s private lives as mentioned above (Interview with Dr Muতammad ণawwƗ on 07/06/2014 in Amman). 95 On this aspect, see again ণawwƗ, al-IslƗm, 331.
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positions—as he had already dome during his life96—and would have treated many topics differently.97 The aim of this study, which follows a descriptive method in the first place has not been to evaluate ণawwƗ’s thinking normatively. Its aim has been, first and foremost, to show how this influential Syrian scholar, and with him a large number of Muslims, see the position and the role of their imƗm. Against the background of a failed endeavor to export democracy to the Muslim world—if indeed this was ever a serious intention—and against the background of the so-called Arab Spring which must be considered to have failed in a most bloody manner, this article may encourage other researchers—especially young Muslim ones—to redirect their attention to studying all aspects of Muslim political thought as well as studying current realities in the Muslim world. Only then can they contribute not only to the academic but also to the practical debate on modern Islamic statehood. This form of state could benefit from all the possible instruments of checks and balances to set clear and effective boundaries for everyone who has power over other people. At the same time it would have to proceed in accordance with Islam and its values, and therefore it would have to protect the dignity of every individual.
References ޏAmƗra, Muতammad. TayyarƗt al-fikr al-islƗmƯ. 2nd ed. Cairo: DƗr alShurnjq, 1997. ণawwƗ, SaޏƯd. Fu܈njl fƯ-l-imra wa-l-amƯr. Amman: Maktabat al-RisƗla alতadƯtha, 1982. —. HƗdhihi tajribatƯ wa-hƗdhihi shahƗdatƯ: DirƗsƗt manhajiyya hƗdifa fƯl-binƗҴ. Cairo: Maktabat al-Wahba, 1987. —. al-AsƗs fƯ-l-tafsƯr. 2nd ed. 11 vols. Cairo: DƗr al-SalƗm, 1989. —. al-ƖsƗs fƯ-l-sunna wa-fiqhuhƗ. 3rd ed. 4 vols. Cairo: DƗr al-SalƗm, 1995. —. Jund AllƗh takhܒƯܒan. Cairo: DƗr al-Wahba, 1995. —. MudhƗkarƗt fƯ manƗzil al-܈iddƯqƯn wa-l-rabbƗniyƯn min khilƗl alnu܈nj܈. 4th ed. Cairo: DƗr al-SalƗm, 1999.
96
See again footnote 41. This estimation by the author is also in line with that of SaޏƯd ণawwƗ’s son, Dr Muতammad ণawwƗ, interviewed on 7/6/2014 in Amman. Regarding the role of the media in an Islamic state, see ণawwƗ, Fu܈njl fƯ-l-imra, 160–61.
97
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—. al-Madhkhal ilƗ daҵwat al-IkhwƗn al-MuslimƯn. 7th ed. Cairo: DƗr alWahba, 2006. —. TarbiyatunƗ l-rnjۊiyya: DirƗsƗt manhajiyya hƗdifa fƯ-l-tazkiya wa-ltarbiya wa-l-sulnjk. 7th ed. Cairo: DƗr al-SalƗm, 2007. —. al-IslƗm: Silsilat dirƗsƗt manhajiyya hƗdifa, AllƗh - al-Rasnjl - alIslƗm. 7th ed. Cairo: DƗr al-SalƗm, 2011. Krämer, Gudrun. Gottes Staat als Republik: Reflexionen zeitgenössischer Muslime zu Islam, Menschenrechten und Demokratie. Studien zu Ethnizität, Religion und Demokratie 1. Baden-Baden: Nomos, 1999. MƗwardƯ, ޏAlƯ Ibn Muতammad al-. KitƗb al-aۊkƗm al-sulܒƗniyya wa-lwilƗyƗt al-dƯniyya. Edited by Aতmad MubƗrak al-BaghdƗdƯ. Mansura: DƗr al-WafƗގ, 1981. Saޏd al-DƯn, ޏAdnƗn. Al-IkhwƗn al-Muslimnjn fƯ Snjriya: Min ҵƗm 1977 waۊattƗ ҵƗm 1983. 4 vols. Amman: DƗr ޏAmmƗr, 2009. Suleiman, Samir. Islam, Demokratie und Moderne: Reflexionen muslimischer Denker und Gelehrter. Aachen: Shaker, 2013. Translation of the Meanings of the Glorious QurҴan, approved by the Ministry of Awqaf and Islamic Affairs, The Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan: Translated by RashƯd S. KassƗb. Amman: Ma৬Ɨbi ޏal-ƮmƗn, 1994.
Internet www.saidhawwa.com (Last accessed on 07/05/2015). http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=APfng3dD4Fk (Last accessed on 07/05/2015).
Interview Interview with Dr Muতammad SaޏƯd ণawwƗ on 07/06/2014 in Amman.
CHAPTER SIX ৡ. MAণMAৡৡƖNƮ: THE PHILOSOPHY OF JURISPRUDENCE IN ISLAM. THE EVOLUTION OF LAWS RANA ALSOUFI
1. Introduction One of the salient features of the discourse on Islamic law (sharƯҵa) and the challenges of modernity is the question of whether or not Islamic law evolves to meet the pressing demands of today’s world. The crux of the issue, I argue here, pertains to the nature of Islamic law, especially considering the jurists’ claim of the divinity of the authoritative sources in Islam. The latter are regarded as “[…] a divine system of laws in its sources and primary rules.”1 This is what Hallaq reminds us of, that is to say the effect of the language of these two sources which is constructed to have a direct and a literal impact on legislation in Islamic law.2 If Islamic law is considered as a divine system of legislation, how can contemporary Muslim scholars claim the relevance of sharƯҵa to suit varying times and contexts? Does the legislation of Islamic law evolve with changing times and conditions? ৡubতƯ Rajab MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ in his monograph falsafat al-tashrƯҵ fƯ-lIslƗm says that the sharƯҵa, in all its historical phases, has been in harmony with the principles of evolution; and that it was and still is compatible with civilization in every time and place.3 Such a conviction, however, requires 1 ৡubতƯ MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ, Falsafat al-tashrƯҵ fƯ-l-IslƗm: The Philosophy of Jurisprudence in Islam (Leiden: Brill, 1961), translated by Farhat J. Ziadeh, 9. 2 Wael Hallaq, A History of Islamic Legal Theories: An Introduction to SunnƯ U܈njl al-Fiqh (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 207. 3 MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ, Falsafat al-tashrƯҵ fƯ-l-IslƗm, 119.
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a justification. MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ, like many other Muslim scholars,4 puts forward the claim that Islamic law necessarily evolves and calls for an evolving system of laws to suit varying times and contexts.5 However, he warns that in order to allow Islamic law to evolve, this necessitates caution and meticulous care, because we are dealing with the rules of the divine sources.6 MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ insists that the divine law evolves, however, he warns Muslim legislators not to lose sight of the genuine spirit of Islamic law while attempting to evolve its legislation. MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ maintains that in order to obtain an evolving law, the Muslim legislators need to consider other legislative sources alongside the divine texts. He justifies this need arguing that the divine sources fall short in answering many of the novel issues that befall Muslims (al-nawƗzil). He argues that reliance on extraneous sources is not foreign to Islam. On the contrary, these sources have been invariably present throughout the history of Islam. However, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ accuses the early jurists of having made no reference to the extraneous sources. What does MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ mean by ‘extraneous sources’? There are three sources of legislation that MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ refers to as the extraneous sources and those are: the direct legislation of the state, customs and usages, and legal fictions. MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ views the extraneous sources as a major legislative body that has contributed to the evolution of Islamic law. In the light of the principle of evolution in Islamic law, the attempt in the present article is to point out the influence of the extraneous sources upon Islamic law and the manner in which the Muslim scholars of the sources have tried to reconcile such influences with their special method in the study of sharƯҵa rules. In the present article I first introduce a brief summary of MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ’s biography. Next follows his views on the authoritative sources and their 4
Tariq Ramadan, Radical Reform Islamic Ethics and Liberation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009); Fazlur Rahman, Islamic Methodology in History (Karachi: Central Institute of Islamic Research, 1965); Fazlur Rahman, Islam and Modernity: Transformation of an Intellectual Tradition (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1982); Fazlur Rahman, Major Themes of the QurࢯƗn (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 2009) and Muhammad Shahrur, The QurࢯƗn, Morality and Critical Reason: The Essential Muhammad Shahrur, ed. Andreas Christmann (Leiden: Brill, 2009). 5 As Opwis writes that one should keep in mind that such calls are “[…] voiced in an environment in which significant transformations were occurring in areas directly relevant to religious scholars more generally and jurists in particular.” Felicitas Opwis, “Maৢlaতa in Contemporary Islamic Legal Theory,” Islamic Law and Society 12, no. 2 (2005): 184. 6 MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ, Falsafat al-tashrƯҵ fƯ-l-IslƗm, 105.
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hierarchal order in Islam. The final part of this article reflects on MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ’s views on the role and influence of the extraneous sources in Islamic law. In conclusion, I propound MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ’s stance on the inherent principle of evolution in Islamic law and the role of the extraneous sources in maintaining the flexibility and adaptability of sharƯҵa legislations to suit varying times and contexts is highlighted.
2. MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ’s biography ৡubতƯ Rajab MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ was a Lebanese jurist (lived 1909-1986). He was famous for his interest in combining Islamic jurisprudence (al-fiqh alislƗmƯ) and Western legal systems. He obtained his Doctoral degree in law from the University of Lyon and a LLB diploma from the University of London. He practiced law in Lebanon, served at the Court of Appeal, held a number of high political positions, and represented Beirut in the Lebanese parliament from 1964 to 1986.7 MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ’s contributions to the field of Islamic law reflect his profound concerns about how Islamic law is perceived, and thus, implemented in the Arabic world. He had a long record of publications, which are mostly written in Arabic.8 The present article, however, focuses on MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ’s falsafat al-tashrƯҵ fƯ-lIslƗm and his stance on the role of the extraneous sources in evolving Islamic law. The reason for this choice is because of the approach that MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ deploys in examining the legal literature of Islamic law as an intellectual process that has been affected by time, space and change.
3. Sources of authority MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ considers the QurގƗn as the first source of authority in Islamic jurisprudence. Second in importance stands the Prophetic tradition (ۊadƯth), which is considered of a supplementary and explanatory nature. Out of these two sources there emerged the derivative sources, namely, the 7
See Opwis, “Maৢlaতa in Contemporary Islamic Legal Theory,” 202. In addition to his Falsafat al-tashrƯҵ fƯ-l-IslƗm, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ has written many other works, for instance: al-AwڲƗҵ al-tashrƯҵiyya fƯ-l-duwal al-ҵarabiyya: MƗڲƯhƗ wa-ۊƗڲiruhƗ, 12th ed. (Beirut: DƗr al-ޏIlm li-l-malƗyƯn, 1980); Muqaddima fƯ iۊyƗҴ ҵulnjm al-SharƯҵa (Beirut: DƗr al-ޏIlm li-l-malƗyƯn, 1980); TurƗth al-khulafƗҴ arrƗshidƯn fƯ-l-fiqh wa-l-qaڲƗҴ (Beirut: DƗr al-ޏIlm li-l-malƗyƯn, 1980); ArkƗn ۊuqnjq al-insƗn: Baۊth muqƗran fƯ-l-sharƯҵa al-islƗmiyya wa-l-qawƗnƯn al-ۊadƯtha (Beirut: DƗr al-ޏIlm li-l-malƗyƯn, 1979); Les idées économiques d'Ibn Khaldoun: Essai historique, analytique et critique (Lyon: Bosc frères, 1932); Mujtahidnjn fƯ-lqaڲƗҴ: MukhtƗrƗt min aqڲiyat al-salaf (Beirut: DƗr al-ޏIlm li-l-malƗyƯn, 1980). 8
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consensus of the early community (ijmƗҵ) and analogy (qiyƗs). The early classical jurists expanded these sources in a special branch of learning known as the science of sources (ҵilm u܈njl al-fiqh). The latter deals with the sources of sharƯҵa rules and the ways of deducting rules therefrom.9 MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ speaks of other sources that have been known to early Muslim jurists and recognised as part of the derivative sharƯҵa sources: equity and the absolute good, preference (istiۊsƗn), the public interest (alma܈laۊa al-mursala) and deduction (istidlƗl and istiۊ܈Ɨb).10 What is apparent in the writings of MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ is his acknowledgment of the need to study the ancient laws in order to understand the development of the law and the reasons for its survival. He writes: “If we aim at studying the old, there is no escape from comparing it with the new and knowing the reasons for its development.”11 MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ suggests that change and adaptation in Islamic law can be viable only by considering the extraneous sources, namely, the direct legislation by the state, customs and usages, and legal fictions. While attempting to bring some light to these “buried treasures” and comparing the different opinions of Muslim and contemporary scholars, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ distances himself from adopting any particular stand.12 The following section provides an overview of MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ’s views on the use of extraneous sources and their effect on the evolution of Islamic law.
4. The evolution of laws Considering the title of his book Falsafat al-tashrƯҵ fƯ-l-IslƗm, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ proposes that in Islamic law there is a profound philosophy behind all legislation. First, a key element in MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ’s approach is the consideration of the philosophy of legislation in Islam (falsafat altashrƯҵ), that is, the promotion of the aims and purposes of the law (maqƗ܈id al-sharƯҵa). MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ does not hesitate to remind us that there were many jurists, and indeed from various schools of law, who wrote extensively on the aims of sharƯҵa.13 Throughout his monograph, he 9
Cf. Abnj ণƗmid al-GhazƗlƯ, al-Musta܈fƗ min ҵilm al-u܈njl, 2 vols. (BnjlƗq: alMa৬baޏat al-AmƯriyya, 1322–24 [=1904–07]), 1:7; MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ, Falsafat al-tashrƯҵ fƯ-l-IslƗm, 63. 10 Ibid., 83–90. 11 Ibid., x. 12 Ibid., xi. 13 MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ, in this context, refers to al-ޏIzz Ibn ޏAbd al-SalƗm (d. 660/1261– 62), Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya (d. 751/1350) and Abnj IsতƗq al-ShƗ৬ibƯ (d. 790/1388).
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consistently promotes a vision of Islamic law as founded in the first place for the sole benefit of human beings (li-ma܈laۊat al-nƗs). When the law is designed for the benefit of man, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ reiterates, the law ought to be in a constant state of flux. How can the law sustain flexibility despite its divine nature? That the law can sustain flexibility is achieved when Muslim legislators adopt the juristic legal concept of benefit (ma܈laۊa). On different occasions MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ makes references to the renowned MƗlikƯ jurist Abnj IsতƗq alShƗ৬ibƯ (d. 790/1388)14, whose classification of the law into immutable and changeable allows the legal system to flexibly incorporate new laws and to adapt old ones.15 For instance, it is established in Islamic law that the Islamic legislation that is related to rules governing transactions (muҵƗmalƗt) is intended to bring benefits to the believers and protect them from evil. MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ suggests that, by allowing human reason to penetrate the QurގƗnic rulings in matters related to human transactions, this clearly enhances the argument that these rules are based upon the principle of bringing benefit and preventing harm. Thus, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ maintains that, if promoting benefit and preventing harm are the necessary ingredients for success and happiness, then the rule ordains that the law remains evolving. However, claiming that the rules of the sharƯҵa are fixed would lead to the opposite of the fundamental foundation and the general principles of God’s law. It is important to note here that MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ does not reject the classical distinction made by Muslim scholars between the two different types of rules in Islamic law. The first type is related to the observance of religious duties (ҵibƗdƗt), which mainly deal with issues of worship and dogma (ҵaqƯda). His views on them are similar to those of the predominant Sunni view. The second type, however, is related to worldly transactions (muҵƗmalƗt), which mainly concern the worldly interests of mankind. It is in respect of the second type of legislation that the law is flexible. Furthermore, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ views the evolution of laws as an important factor in human life and regards the need for the recognition of social change, which undoubtedly results in constant changes in people’s interest as the social structure alters, as essential. In MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ’s view the interests of people should be the basis of all laws, thus, he writes: “[…] it is both necessary and reasonable that SharƯޏa rules undergo changes to suit the changing time; and that these rules are affected by the social organization 14
Cf. IbrƗhƯm al-ShƗ৬ibƯ, Al-MuwƗfaqƗt fƯ U܈njl al-SharƯҵa (Beirut: Muގassasat alKutub al-thaqƗfiyya, 1999). 15 Felicitas Opwis, Ma܈laۊa and the Purpose of the Law: Islamic Discourse on Legal Change (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 24.
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and the environment.”16 MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ insists on the need for change in the ways in which the Islamic legal interpretations are perceived, given the changes that take place in time and conditions. Failing to realize this fact, quoting Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya (d. 751/1350), leads to “[…] grievous injustices to the SharƯޏa, and thus caused many difficulties, hardships, and sheer impossibilities, although it is known that the noble SharƯޏa, which serves the highest interests of mankind, would not sanction such results.”17 Both the philosophy of Islamic legislation (falsafat al-tashrƯҵ) and the social facts of change have been MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ’s main arguments in calling for the need for an evolving law. The effect of the principle of the evolution of laws in Islam, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ argues, undoubtedly is rooted in the early days of the development of the various schools of law in Islam. Examples presented by MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ include the ImƗm al-ShƗfiޏƯ (d. 204/820), who discarded some of his laws in the old Iraqi school with new legal solutions (fatƗwƗ) in Egypt by considering the influence of social circumstances there. The remaining challenge, however, when the law requires changes is the question of the legality of modifying a divine rule in the text by something other than a text, that is to say by interpretation, man-made legislation, and custom. MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ holds that if the text is related to matters of religious observance and worship, then it is firmly fixed and unchangeable ‘so long as the earth remains earth and the sky remains sky’.18 This is so because the fundamentals of religion, like the principles of belief in the unity of God and faith, are eternal and demand submission and adherence to the authoritative sources.19 Changes in law, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ argues, are applicable only to matters concerning the transactions and worldly interests of people. However, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ is aware of the dominant view of Muslim jurists, which is a refusal to accept any violation against the rules of the QurގƗn or the Sunna on account of a change in time and circumstances. MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ attributes this view to the ণanafƯs, ShƗfiޏƯs and ƗhirƯs who rejected departure from the texts on a plea of change in time, place or condition. However, on a different point MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ contradicts himself 16
Resting on Ibn Khaldnjn’s Muqaddima “the conditions, customs and sects of the world and nations do not continue according to any specific pattern or stable program. There is always change from time to time and from one condition to another. Inasmuch as this applies to persons, times, and provinces, it applies likewise to countries, ages and states. Such is God’s order amongst his creatures”. MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ, Falsafat al-tashrƯҵ fƯ-l-IslƗm, 106–07. 17 Ibid., 107. 18 Ibid., 109. 19 Ibid.
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and argues that both the ণanafƯs and ShƗfiޏƯs changed the rules of interpretation when there was a need for a change. For instance, he employs the different religious solutions of al-ShƗfiޏƯ that he gave in Egypt in comparison to those he pronounced earlier in Iraq, referred to earlier.20 The principle of the evolution of law can be dated back to the early days of Islam. MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ presents a number of examples of the practices of the caliph ޏUmar ibn al-Kha৬৬Ɨb as a model of adaption to change. The practice of ޏUmar allows MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ to argue that the caliph reasoned all the time and that whenever the spirit of the divine text or the Prophetic tradition was not fulfilled ޏUmar waived the rule. MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ’s choice of ޏUmar, who was one of the founders of the Islamic state and indeed one of the major figures in the history of Islam and has been considered to be very strict, allows him to argue that even he was aware of this state of affairs and acted upon it. MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ lists seven examples where ޏUmar is believed to have adopted changes against the dictation of the revealed sources. For instance, he makes a reference to the decision of ޏUmar waiving the ۊadd punishment of theft in the year of famine because of necessity.21 MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ is aware of the limited nature of the divine sources in covering all the aspects of law that the Muslim society needs. For MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ, it is an undeniable fact that the rules of sharƯҵa vary with the change in time and environment. This change, however, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ argues necessitates an investigation of the interests upon which the regulations of the sharƯҵa are based. According to MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ, the interests of people are the cause and the basis of all rules. Furthermore, another principle follows, if the causes change or cease to exist, rules based on them ought to change or disappear. To support his claim, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ puts forward one of the maxims of Islamic law stating that “a SharƯޏa rule which is based upon a cause survives or ceases with it.”22 The following presents the views of MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ on the role of the extraneous sources and their influence in evolving Islamic law. First, the direct positive legislation emanating from the sovereign is considered, and then second, customs and usages and finally the legal fiction as possible legislative sources in Islamic law are explored.
20
Ibid., 107–09. Ibid., 112. 22 Ibid., 107. 21
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4.1 Direct positive legislation emanating from the sovereign MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ holds that, despite the divine nature of the sources of sharƯҵa, the history of Islam shows us that the caliphs and sultans did not hesitate to enact laws either directly or by way of interpretation whenever the public interest required it.23 The legality of such legislation and its binding effect derive their authority from the QurގƗn (Q. 4:59) and the Sunna of the Prophet. The consensus of the early Muslim community supported this view, and thus it became part of the sharƯҵa. MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ argued that the bulk of legislation laid down by the caliphs and sultans, especially in the absence of QurގƗnic and Prophetic provisions, dealt with novel cases arising mainly from social demands, particularly in questions related to administrative issues, for instance, the government regulations and the imposition of taxes. MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ points to the caliphs, who were in a position to decree adherence to one specific school of law or to a particular interpretation of the law. In this regard, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ refers also to the caliphs during the Umayyad and the ޏAbbƗsid eras, who were resisting all schools that opposed them or their policies.24 MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ refers to the point that in contemporary modern states the legislative bodies are the parliaments which have the authority to enact laws and that the head of state alone has no authority to enact or force legislation. However, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ still holds that the authority of the state is responsible for ensuring that there is “respect for and adherence to the rules of the SharƯޏa”. Obedience to those in power, however, can only be demanded if the state is just to its citizens.25
4.2 Customs and usages Custom is the second extraneous source that MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ considers to be a valid source of legislation. The noun ҵurf (custom) is derived from the Arabic root ҵarafa (to know) and denotes that which is known.26 MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ maintains that custom plays an important role in the growth of nations and in the progress of their social life. In the history of the Arabs before Islam, customs and traditions formed the basis of social and commercial life. With the rise of Islam, however, the divine texts became 23
Ibid., 126. Ibid., 128. 25 Ibid., 129. 26 Cf. Mohammad Hashim Kamali, Principles of Islamic Jurisprudence (Cambridge: The Islamic Texts Society, 1991), 283; MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ, Falsafat altashrƯҵ fƯ-l-IslƗm, 132. 24
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the source of all legislation and as a consequence custom gradually diminished in importance. MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ concurs that customs and traditions were not regarded as one of the sharƯҵa sources by the experts of the sources of law, however, they infiltrated the sharƯҵa.”27 MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ maintains that in order for customs to be binding as a legitimate source of authority certain conditions must be fulfilled. One of these is conformity with the spirit of Islamic law and hence, customs which conflict with the spirit of the sharƯҵa are unequivocally rejected by it.28 For instance, the Bedouin custom of disinheriting female heirs is totally rejected. MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ regards this custom as conflicting with the already established sources of Islamic law and violating the spirit of the sharƯҵa of Islam.29
4.3 Legal fictions Because social life necessitates modification of laws, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ argues, Muslim legislators need to find a balance between the theory of the law and the practice of the sharƯҵa. What MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ refers to as legal fictions is the process by which the old law remains ostensibly unaltered, while in reality it has undergone changes and modifications.30 MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ speaks of three methods by means of which modification and conciliation can take place, namely, direct state legislation, judicial preference and legal fiction. As to the latter, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ distinguishes between two types of legal fictions in Islamic law. One type is permissible while the other’s permissibility is disputable. As for the permissible type of legal fiction, the jurists attempted to utilize a legal device laid down for a specific purpose in order to achieve another purpose, for instance aiming at upholding a right, preventing an injury or the need to ease a situation. Such legal fictions, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ argues, do not destroy any of the precepts of the sharƯҵa and are therefore recognized and accepted by all the Islamic schools of law. As to the second type of legal fiction, it is intended to “change well-established sharҵƯ rules into other different rules through an action which is ostensibly correct but implicitly void”.31According to MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ, a controversy arose among the various schools concerning the legitimacy of this type of legal fiction. For instance, ণanafƯ jurists and the later generation of the ShƗfiޏƯ school of law sanctioned the use of legal 27
Ibid. Ibid., 134. 29 Ibid. 30 Ibid., 120. 31 Ibid., 121. 28
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fictions, however, the ণanbalƯs and MƗlikƯs rejected it all together. MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ argues that “it is incorrect to state that the sharƯҵa has approved of evasion and circumventions of the law without making qualifications and distinctions between the various schools of law.”32
5. Conclusion This article has sought to shed light on some of MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ’s views regarding the evolution of legislation in Islamic law and the nature of its sources. MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ lays a greater stress on the need to genuinely consider the extraneous sources, those which are not regarded as divine, yet can be regarded as authoritative. The consideration of extraneous sources, as MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ sees it, would facilitate the ability of Muslim legislators to adapt further rules that affect the Muslim community in relation to Islamic law. Muslim legislators will face many problems, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ warns, if they ignore the inherent nature of Islamic law which allows for change and evolution in legislation in order to accommodate the law to changing circumstances. Throughout his Falsafat al-tashrƯҵ fƯ-l-IslƗm, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ presents the sharƯҵa as a comprehensive system of law, which is established upon the public interest, public good and the facilitation of life in general.33 Speaking of change in Islamic law, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ holds that the principle of evolution and change in the regulations of the law does not mean changing the divine texts themselves. What he means by change is a change in the interpretation of these texts in the light of necessity and changes in custom or in the effective causes upon which they are based.34 Furthermore, MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ seeks to argue that the evolution of legislation and legal rulings in Islamic law is viable provided that it brings a successful synthesis of the basic religious principles of Islam, on the one hand, and a substantive corpus of the law that is suitable for the needs of modern issues and the demands of changing societies on the other hand. One legitimate question remains, however, which is whether the writings of MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ have remained a mere academic discourse, or have simply failed to affect the common views of sharƯҵa law as the immutable law of God in Islamic states.
32
Ibid., 126. MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ criticises Western writers for having failed to grasp the true meaning of the sharƯҵa, especially in their allegation that the sharƯҵa law was doomed to immutability, see ibid., 119. 34 Ibid., 118. 33
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References GhazƗlƯ, Abnj ণƗmid al-. al-Musta܈fƗ min ҵilm al-u܈njl. 2 vols. BnjlƗq: alMa৬baޏat al-AmƯriyya, 1322-24 [=1904-07]. Hallaq, Wael. A History of Islamic Legal Theories: An Introduction to SunnƯ U܈njl al-Fiqh. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997. Kamali, Mohammad H. Principles of Islamic Jurisprudence. Cambridge: The Islamic Texts Society, 1991. MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ, ৡubতƯ. Les idées économiques d‘Ibn Khaldoun: Essai historique, analytique et critique. Lyon: Bosc frères, 1932. —. Falsafat al-tashrƯҵ fƯ-l-IslƗm: The Philosophy of Jurisprudence in Islam. Leiden: Brill, 1961. translated by Farhat J. Ziadeh. —. ArkƗn ۊuqnjq al-insƗn: Baۊth muqƗran fƯ-l-sharƯҵa al-islƗmiyya wa-lqawƗnƯn al-ۊadƯtha. Beirut: DƗr al-ޏIlm li-l-malƗyƯn, 1979. —. al-AwڲƗҵ al-tashrƯҵiyya fƯ-l-duwal al-ҵarabiyya: MƗڲƯhƗ wa-ۊƗڲiruhƗ. 12th ed. Beirut: DƗr al-ޏIlm li-l-malƗyƯn, 1980. —. Mujtahidnjn fƯ-l-qaڲƗҴ: MukhtƗrƗt min aqڲiyat al-salaf. Beirut: DƗr alޏIlm li-l-malƗyƯn, 1980. —. Muqaddima fƯ iۊyƗҴ ҵulnjm al-SharƯҵa. Beirut: DƗr al-ޏIlm li-l-malƗyƯn, 1980. —. TurƗth al-khulafƗҴ ar-rƗshidƯn fƯ-l-fiqh wa-l-qaڲƗҴ. Beirut: DƗr al-ޏIlm li-l-malƗyƯn, 1980. Opwis, Felicitas. “Maৢlaতa in Contemporary Islamic Legal Theory.” Islamic Law and Society 12, no. 2 (2005): 182–223. —. Ma܈laۊa and the Purpose of the Law: Islamic Discourse on Legal Change. Leiden: Brill, 2010. Rahman, Fazlur. Islamic Methodology in History. Karachi: Central Institute of Islamic Research, 1965. —. Islam and Modernity: Transformation of an Intellectual Tradition. Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1982. —. Major Themes of the QurҴƗn. Chicago: Chicago University Press, 2009. Ramadan, Tariq. Radical Reform Islamic Ethics and Liberation. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009. Shahrur, Muhammad. The QurҴƗn, Morality and Critical Reason: The Essential Muhammad Shahrur. Edited by Andreas Christmann. Leiden: Brill, 2009. ShƗ৬ibƯ, IbrƗhƯm al-. Al-MuwƗfaqƗt fƯ U܈njl al-SharƯҵa. Beirut: Muގassasat al-Kutub al-thaqƗfiyya, 1999.
SECTION 2: CONCEPTS AND METHODS IN SHIITE THEOLOGY
CHAPTER SEVEN THE TWELVER SHIA: THEOLOGICAL CHARACTERISTICS REZA HAJATPOUR
One of the central distinguishing components of the Twelver Shia theology is the concept of the ImƗmate. Indeed, this concept lies at the heart of the split between Shiites and Sunnis. Apart from the three shared principles of belief (the oneness of God, prophecy and resurrection) Shiite theology differentiates itself from Sunni theology regarding the question of leadership, thereby building its own ideology of the ImƗmate. The core of ImƗmate ideology lies in the indispensability of spiritual and custodial governance (wilƗya) for human beings. Thus, as shown in several Shiite ۊadƯth, a true believer consists of someone who recognizes God, the prophets and the imƗm.1 The concept of the ImƗmate implies leadership. It is derived from the term imƗm, which was originally used in the sense of a leader or teacher in all political, religious and worldly concerns. Within Shiite theology it forms the basis of a special principle which goes beyond describing an administrative role. The term stands for the continual spiritual-religious governing of the Muslim community with special spiritual and worldly functions and characteristics. The imƗm serves as a deputy for the prophet and leads the community according to divine guidance. He is also an intermediary between the believers and the prophet. This role sets him apart and elevates him above all other believers. The underlying premises of this conception are as follows. On the one hand, God is righteous. On the other hand, a human being acts independently 1
Muতammad i. Y. KulaynƯ, al-KƗfƯ fƯ ҵilm al-dƯn: TaҴlƯfƗt AbƯ Jafar Muۊammad ibn Yaҵqnjb ibn IshƗq al-KulaynƯ al-RƗzƯ. Maҵa taҵlƯqƗt nƗfiҵa maҴkhnjdha min ҵiddat shurnjۊ, ed. ޏAlƯ Akbar al-GhaffƗrƯ (Tehran: DƗr al-Kutub al-IslƗmiyya, 1955–59), 180.
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because he has own free will. However, human beings can be misguided because of the make-up of their essential nature. Consequently, God can punish a human being only when that particular human being commits a sin out of his or her own free will. God’s just nature does not allow human beings to fall accidentally into perdition. He never deserts human beings. Therefore, from time immemorial, a concept of governing has existed which involves the task of declaring and indicating which is the righteous path. Despite the fact that the imƗm is an individual who is determined and instituted by God, the ImƗmate is discussed under the rubric of rationally argued theology. The concept of the ImƗmate can be traced back to a transcendental principle, on the basis of which theologians endeavour to rationally investigate the necessity of government. God’s mercy is the principle (qƗҵidat al-luܒf), according to which God’s essentially just nature obliges him to bestow guidance (hidƗya) upon human beings so that they can experience the divine order and its laws while displaying obedience (tƗҵa) towards Him. This ensures that human beings do not inadvertently commit a punishable sin (maҵ܈iya). Therefore, Twelver Shia consider the existence of an imƗm to be necessary at all times. The connection between the principle of mercy, the message of the prophet and the calling of the imƗm is evident in the roles of these two figures. The law of religion, which manifested itself with the prophet and which the imƗm is obliged to follow, is considered to be part of God’s mercy, as it brings human beings closer to obedience to God and prevents them from committing sin. This conception of the prophets and the imƗms functions therefore as a structure by means of which God and human beings are connected. Hence, the principle of mercy is regarded as normative and representative of an aspiration to a certain status quo because it relates to the principle of justice. This principle of mercy lies at the heart of the Shiite ideology of prophecy and the ImƗmate. First of all, the theological character of the ImƗmate can be traced back to the question of whether it is legitimate to interpret and derive law from QurގƗnic revelation only via analogy (qiyƗs) and/or one’s own opinion (raҴy). This theme was first elucidated at the beginning of the Abbasid era by Muতammad al-BƗqir (d. 126/743) and Jaޏfar al-ৡƗdiq (d. 148/765), both Shiite imƗms. They established the theological groundwork for the
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relationship between the rational mind, prophetic revelation, and the necessity for divine governing. They advanced the thesis that the human intellect alone is insufficient to recognize the divine order and understand matters of faith. Opinion and intellect alone would falsify God’s order (dƯn), which is commanded by his mercy. Thus the Shia argue that the fact that God sends a leader blessed with the knowledge of the divine order and therefore capable of proclaiming the true religion in his function as the righteous leader, is an essential (ڲarnjrat al-amr) element in the principle of mercy. By virtue of this knowledge, only an imƗm is capable of distinguishing2 between right and wrong and is able to differentiate and mediate between the external and the hidden message of prophetic revelation. Guidance and instruction by the imƗm enables believers to understand the divine order by employing their intellects.3 Therefore, the imƗm must be cognizant of mistakes (khaܒaҴ) and falsity (ڲalƗl), as HishƗm Ibn ণakam (d. 197/813) points out. Hence, the miraculous quality of the imƗm is, in effect, the mercy of God. The next question that arises is whether the necessity of an imƗm and the duty to obey him denies or negates the autonomy, and subsequently, the responsibility of human beings. In order to fully understand the theological principle of mercy, it must be noted that mercy is a principle belonging to the field of speculative theory and therefore is regarded as a rational principle. Philosophical works do not deal with this concept as a normative principle. Therefore, as the Iranian religious scholar and philosopher MahdƯ ণƗގirƯ YazdƯ (d. 1999) has pointed out, Islamic philosophers have allegedly not given this term much attention.4 To what extent, however, is this principle a norm? One might ask: How does Islamic speculative theology treat questions of an ethical nature? Furthermore, we have to consider the fact that if mercy is considered normative, in what way can it be reinterpreted to represent a rational principle? Furthermore, if it is a rational principle, how can it be reinterpreted to represent a normative principle? 2
Tilman Nagel, Staat und Glaubensgemeinschaft im Islam: Geschichte der politischen Ordnungsvorstellungen der Muslime, 2 vols. (Zurich, Munich: Artemis & Winkler, 1981), 1:192–93. 3 Syed Husain Jafri, The Origins and Early Development of Shi´a Islam (London: Oxford University Press, 1979), 293; Nagel, Staat und Glaubensgemeinschaft im Islam, 193. 4 MahdƯ ণƗގirƯ YazdƯ, ۉikma wa-ۉuknjma (London: Shadi Publishing, 1995), 136– 37.
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The central idea here is that mercy is regarded as a rational duty deriving from a rational principle. ণƗގirƯ interprets the term duty (wƗjib) as an affirmation (ƯjƗb, literally to make necessary). This principle is said to be based on God’s justice, which is regarded as a necessary attribute of God and therefore also a duty. If justice is considered rationally good and God is just, God is consequently obliged to act justly. Therefore, God sends the prophets to the believers in order to determine who will be the imƗms, thereby making sure that the believers are governed and guided by them. This fact also means that the sharƯҵa is descriptive rather than regulative. These God-given norms describe only conditions relating to how an action should be viewed and are therefore not considered as rules, per se. Since mercy is a normative action, ণƗގirƯ argues that neither empowerment (tamkƯn) nor enforcement (ilzƗm wa-ijbƗr) are central to it. In this respect ণƗގirƯ refers to the statements of a few seminal Shiite theologians such as Shaykh Abnj Jaޏfar Muতammad Ibn al-ণasan al-৫njsƯ (d. 460/1067), NaৢƯr al-DƯn al-৫njsƯ (d. 672/1274) and ޏAllƗma al-ণillƯ (d. 726/1326) to support his argument, thereby demonstrating that he is referring to the facilitation of action according to the concept of rational responsibility in line with the religious instructions of the holy imƗms. The aforementioned scholars would probably have understood this principle as more or less entirely normative (pers. arzishƯ). ণƗގirƯ regards the dynamic mentioned above as a coercion-free principle which exhorts human beings to take on responsibility for themselves and self-determination. He says: In a nutshell, theologians have basically been saying the following: religious-legal duties are encompassed within the actions required by mercy (or mercy as such), itself within the context of rational principles. The significance of this theological as well as dogmatic sentence lies in the fact that the primary human duties and responsibilities are inherently a matter of rationality. Thereby coercion is forbidden to be exerted on human beings by a legislator.5
The concept of ImƗmate, as it relates to the principle of mercy, raises a further vital question regarding the Shiite principles of faith: It is connected to the form of government provided by the prophet and the holy imƗms. This question is associated with the authority of religious law under the governance of the prophet as well as the imƗms.
5
Ibid., 138.
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If human action flows from personal responsibility and responds to the authority of moral and reasonable principles with regard to matters of the state as well as personal/interpersonal ones, one must conclude that the prophet and the twelve holy imƗms of the Twelver Shia have only been assigned the role of moral functionaries and providers of spiritual guidance. Compliance with the imƗm’s acts of governing and promulgation of laws should, according to this concept, be subject to the free decision of the community, and furthermore the right to political legislation and enforcement should be reserved for citizens alone. Accordingly, ণƗގirƯ concludes: The deployment of envoys only takes place so that they may teach the sublime justice (...). Thus they (human beings) are supposed to be advocates of justice and law themselves. Therefore, (...) the task of establishing a responsible leadership to govern the interests of the state has been transferred entirely to the people. The task which has to be fulfilled is not assigned in accordance with the dignity, position and rank of these divine leaders, since the stage of the implementation of the duties of justice—which are in fact politics, public management and state leadership—is clearly not a topic which can be understood through analysis (taۊlƯl wa-tajziҴa) of the nature of prophecy and the ImƗmate or be deduced in terms of their essential necessities.6
ণƗގirƯ is trying to point out that, according to the principle of mercy, the governance of the Shiite community is a subject of ethical philosophy because it is essentially normative. The mercy of God has determined the prophets and imƗms lead the community in order to ensure that the highest and most humane ideational values can be achieved. This can only be determined by reason as ণƗގirƯ explains: On the basis of this interpretation, the principle of mercy actually implies that religion (sharƯҵa, literally the law of religion) consists of a signpost of truth pointing towards rationality, success and bliss, according to the dictates of reason. Its main focus lies in leading human beings towards rational development and fulfilment through divine teachings in order to guarantee their ability to recognize a path towards integrity, thereby allowing them to embark upon the path of rationality on the basis of their own insight.7 6 7
Ibid., 140. Ibid.
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The aforementioned interpretation of mercy and its relationship with the governance of community is a modern interpretation which has found its way into the theological debate as a consequence of the events following the rise of clerical power in Iran since 1979. Historically, the Shia consisted of an alternative movement directed against the religious orthodoxy of Islam. It was a religiously as well as politically motivated movement. The beginning of the Shiite movement proves the fact that the Shiites followed an alternative path to that of the Sunnis as far as questions of leadership and theological ideology were concerned. The principle of the ImƗmate and the consequent theological particularities which emerged amongst the Shia are the result of the controversies which gradually developed during the reigns of the Abbasid and Umayyad dynasties. The dispute regarding the succession of Muতammad was initially focused on the question of who should lead the community after the death of the prophet. Soon it was evident that a substantive and programmatic divergence stood behind this debate about individuals. While the Sunnis preferred the caliphate to prophetic leadership as a form of government dealing with the interests and concerns of the community, the Shiites decided to adopt a different approach tof government, more spiritual than worldly. From the beginning it was the aim of the Shiites to instigate a division between a worldly and a spiritual reign. They viewed the caliphate as an entirely worldly reign that could not meet the spiritual and intellectual demands of prophecy. Most Shiites regarded leadership of the prophet primarily as religious rather than political. In this sense, Ibn ৫iq৬aqƗ (d. probably after 709/1309)—a historian with a proclivity towards the Shia—separated political rule from prophetic leadership. In his opinion the first Islamic state (pers. dawlat-i islƗmƯ) was founded after the death of the prophet and the elevation of Abnj Bakr as the first caliph. However, even the caliph Abnj Bakr and the three subsequent caliphs did not reign in a worldly manner. As Ibn ৫iq৬aqƗ explains: “One should also know that the aforementioned state was not a worldly state per se, but rather an entity connected to the prophets and the reality of an afterlife.”8
8
Ibn ৫iq৬aqƗ, Muতammad Ibn ޏAlƯ, TƗrƯkh-e fakhrƯ. Dar ƗdƗb-i mulkdƗrƯ wadawlathƗ-i islƗmƯ (Tehran: IntishƗrƗt ޏilmƯ wa-farhangƯ, 1989), trans. by Muতammad WaতƯd GulpƗyigƗnƯ, 99.
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It is only when describing the emergence of the Umayyad dynasty that he starts to speak of a worldly reign and employs the terms politics (siyƗsa) and reign (salܒana).9 Such attitudes towards sovereignty in Islam arose due to the fact that the question of “who is allowed to reign?” was always connected with the question of “who was appointed by God to reign?” The Shiites then characterized the relationship between divinity and sovereignty in a way that fits their theology. Soon after the idea of reign of the ImƗmate emerged among the Shiites, it was viewed as the appropriate and legitimate form of sovereignty, one that represented the spirit of prophetic leadership. One could think of it not only as a God-approved reign, but also determined according to divine creation. Therefore, it cannot be considered to be a tyrannical or, a totalitarian political system, but rather as a reign capable of guaranteeing social justice and spiritual bliss to all human beings. In this vein, the political revolts by the Shia often took a messianic form. One might ask how such an ideal dominion could be delineated. What is the nature of this dominion? Is it political or does it consider itself purely spiritual? In order to answer this question correctly one must first discuss what exactly is expected of the ImƗmate. The Shia assume it means the idea of an imƗm free from sin (maҵ܈njm) functioning as the head of the community. The imƗm holds divine knowledge and possesses the ability to govern human concerns and interests on the basis of his spiritual nature. When viewed in contradistinction to the Sunni caliphate, the ideal aim of his reign, leads to the idea that it is not of a random nature and cannot be practiced at all times, but only when the imƗm who is free of sin is present and appointed by God to take over power. (We can already detect this strain of thought in the theological arguments against the Shia in the works of Abnj ণƗmid al-GhazƗlƯ [d. 505/1111]). However, one cannot conclude from the aforementioned discussion if the reign of the ImƗmate includes both earthly and transcendental concerns, or is only restricted to spiritual matters.
9
FaঌlallƗh Ibn RnjzbihƗn KhunjƯ IৢfahƗnƯ (d. 927/1521) held the view that the prophetical caliphate (pers. khilƗfat-i nubuwwat) was finalized after the reign of the fifth caliph (he refers to ণasan ibn ޏAlƯ, the first son of the first Shiite imƗm) and thus delineates the beginning of the divine reign. Cf. FaঌlallƗh Ibn RnjzbihƗn KhunjƯ IৢfahƗnƯ, Sulnjk al-mulnjk (Tehran: KhwƗrizmƯ, 1983), improved by Muতammad ޏAlƯ Muwaততid, 82.
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But what is evident is the fact that specifiying the imƗm’s characteristics leads to a restriction of his power and reign. The only legitimate reign is that of a spiritual person appointed by God. In this sense his reign is not determined by the material world, but by God alone. A well-known consequence of this perception is the forswearing of political rule by religious scholars during the era of the imƗm’s absence. Despite this fact, these scholars have regarded themselves more or less as general representatives of the concealed imƗm. This perception was at first interpreted as foreswearing every kind of dependence on the state. Ever since the concealment (ghayba) of the Shiite imƗm (if we remain with the example of the Shiite imƗm) every attempt to claim the right to rule in the name of the concealed imƗm turned into a crisis of legitimacy. Therefore, everyone who has made such a claim has reversed this restriction. And thus, according to Shiite perceptions, the spirit and purpose of guardianshipare reversed. Masjid JƗmiޏƯ highlights the “continuity of the reign of prophecy” in his studies on the Shia-Sunni dispute about leadership and even emphasizes its “natural and logical consequence”. Nevertheless, he has to admit that the majority of Muslims who had pledged allegiance to ޏAlƯ ibn AbƯ ৫Ɨlib, son-in-law of the Prophet Muতammad, only regarded him as a caliph and not a legitimate leader appointed by the prophet.10 The principles of loyalty (tawallƗ wa-tabarrƗҴ, literally to make friends with someone [i.e. with the imƗm or his friends] along with the necessity of turning away from someone [i.e. the enemies of the imƗm]) and justice (ҵadl)—are among the most important articles of faith in Twelver Shia. They emerged out of the disputes with the Muޏtazilis during the reign of the Abbasid dynasty.11 Nevertheless, we have to point out that the Shiite doctrine of the ImƗmate was initially not a universal concept. Rather its concept was developed to fit the specific context of that time. This took place approximately in the middle of the 2nd/8th century and further developments occured later on.
10
Muতammad Masjid JƗmiޏƯ, ZamƯnahƗ-i tafakkur-i siyƗsƯ: Dar qalamru-i tashayyuҵ wa-tasannun (Tehran: IntishƗrƗt ণƗmid, 1990), 100. 11 If one claims that the twelve imƗms were deprived of the possibility of exercising power as a result of political oppression, one cannot clearly grasp why some of them distanced themselves from the idea of assuming political power, while some rejected it altogether, especially if such a takeover was obligatory (wƗjib sharҵƯ) with regard to religion. Cf. Heinz Halm, Die Schia (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1988), 34.
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It emerged with the feeling that all political revolts had failed, thereby leading to the takeover of the Abbasids, as van Ess emphasizes.12 The non-political imƗm Jaޏfar al-ৡƗdiq restricted the idea of the ImƗmate to its non-political dimensions in order to avoid confrontations with the ruling caliphate. Thus, the concept of the imƗm is a teacher rather than a charismatic leader of the community emerged.13 His duty is to proclaim divine governance in contradistinction to worldly powers. Indeed, it was only later, when the religious charisma of the Abbasids was fading, that the spiritual character of the imƗm was given this particular superior religious dimension. He stands above the worldly reign, as Jafri explains: “In his doctrine of the ImƗmate it was not at all necessary for a divinely appointed imƗm to rise in rebellion and try to become a ruler. His place was above that of a ruler, who should only carry out what an imƗm decides as a supreme authority of religion.”14 This concept varied from the political claim to leadership made by the third imƗm, al-ণusayn who was killed by the Umayyads. In order to explain the tragedy of his death, two of the subsequent imƗms, Muতammad al-BƗqir and Jaޏfar al-ৡƗdiq, claimed that it was necessary to appoint an imƗm as a spiritual leader. As a matter of fact, they impressed upon believers the obligation to recognize and accept the living imƗm of their immediate era. The idea of rajҵa was connected to this point in order to endow the idea of an imƗm with certain theoretical and practical dimensions irrespective of the personalities involved. Rajҵa refers to the idea that the imƗms would return and exert true power regardless of whether they were politically motivated or not. Furthermore, one cannot ignore the various disputes among different Shiite groups regarding the ImƗmate. The ghulƗt, namely the so called extremists among the followers of ޏAlƯ who constituted themselves from amongst the Kaysanites, made a vital contribution to the development of the Shiite ImƗmate theology. Indeed, they worshipped ޏAlƯ and his offspring. Most importantly Jewish, Gnostic and Babylonian worlds of thought entered into their concept of the imƗm. They fashioned an approach which stated that the imƗm was supposedly the light of God or the isolated shadow (ashbƗh) of the Divine Light before the creation of the
12
Josef van Ess, Theologie und Gesellschaft im 2. und 3. Jahrhundert Hidschra, 6 vols. (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1991–97), 1:274. 13 Ibid., 397. 14 Jafri, The Origins and Early Development of Shi´a Islam, 293.
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world.15 Hence, their primary aim was to create an analogy between the general guidance of the universe (hidƗya kawniyya), the cosmic reign (wilƗya kawniyya) and the particular reign (wilƗya khƗ܈܈a). However, the development of this concept also had controversial consequences. On the one hand it showed that the reign is supposedly a matter of God and is dispensed only by those who have been appointed by God. On the other hand, the question of worldly reign was not broached. This controversial and variegated concept of rulership, along with the delineation of the definition of the ImƗmate as regards political concerns, led to a new dispute which resulted in the ideological basis for clerical rulership. According to Muতammad ণusayn ৫abƗ৬abƗގƯ, the theology of the ImƗmate is based on three functional levels, which manifest themselves via the position of the imƗm within the community: 1- on the level of the ruling the community in terms of Islamic governance. 2- on the level of interpreting Islamic law and knowledge. 3- on the level of esotericism and spirituality. From the viewpoint of ৫abƗ৬abƗގƯ, these three aspects are necessary to the community of the Shiite faith. The governance of these three spheres must to be relinquished to God or his envoy, who, in turn, is dependent on God’s command.16 But ৫abƗ৬abƗގƯ undermines this claim by putting forward a philosophical dimension to wilƗya. He argues that Islam is based on two principles: natural predisposition (fiܒra) and the social order which determines human actions. Human nature demands governance as it is the natural bulwark against chaos and disorder. An argument in favour of this thesis states that the prophet made a contract with every community where Islam had vital influence and did not leave the area without appointing a representative. Therefore, ৫abƗ৬abƗގƯ claims that it is unthinkable to assume that the prophet left the material world without determining a successor beforehand or having given any clue regarding the governance of the Islamic community. The other argument in favour of this thesis is the fact that a community without laws and principles is generally unimaginable and that the maintenance of its laws and founding principles is simply impossible without any form of governance. As Islam is obliged to maintaining the 15
Ess, Theologie und Gesellschaft im 2. und 3. Jahrhundert Hidschra, 1:294–95. See Muতammad ণusayn ৫abƗ৬abƗގƯ, ShƯҵa dar IslƗm (Tehran: IntishƗrƗt Hijrat, 1982), introduced by ণusayn Naৢr, 109–10. 16
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well-being of humanity, it is absurd to neglect this dimension. The wellbeing of the community, as demanded by human nature, requires a government which acts righteously. Such a government cannot exist without righteous leadership. Therefore, such a leadership has to be appointed by the prophet on behalf of God. Governance must be endowed with characteristics which guarantee a righteous society. Therefore, this kind of leadership is required to be devoid of error. Otherwise, the realization of a righteous society would be impossible. An ideal society in terms of Islam is based on two pillars: a vision of the world as it actually exists, along with a state of bliss. Human beings should have the knowledge of the true nature of all things in order to obtain a real vision of the world. They also have the duty to act righteously in order to obtain bliss both as an individual and in terms of the society in which they live. Islam is a religion aimed at guaranteeing bliss. Therefore, it is vital that humans are given access to knowledge about themselves and their true nature. Thus, guidance is again required in order to teach society and make knowledge of divine intent accessible. Thus, ৫abƗ৬abƗގƯ points out that there always must be an infallible imƗm, in order to guarantee the aims of an ideal society. It is the duty of the imƗm to maintain the divine order proclaimed by the prophets. As a result, in the absence of the prophets the presence of a permanent imƗm in the community is essential. According to this concept in Shiite theology, one assumes that, if the imƗm is absent, he must be concealed. As far as the Twelver Shia is concerned, true Islamic governance can only be realized by the twelve imƗms in a line of descent from ޏAlƯ and FƗ৬ima, with the last of these twelve imƗms remaining concealed. Since the imƗms were prevented from realizing the aims of the prophecy during their lives, they will return after the reign of the twelfth imƗm in order to exert their power. The position and existence of the imƗm are therefore both indisputable within the Shia tradition as they function as instances of God’s permanent mercy (luܒf). The imƗm is a sublime being17 due to his miraculous qualities and is therefore devoid of sin and error as an infallible (maҵ܈njm) being. He
17
According to the principle of “rationally dismissing the leadership of the one, who is of a lower degree” (imƗmat al-mafܲnjl qabƯ ۊҵaqlan) in Shiite theology, a leadership without participation of the sublime (the imƗm) has proved to be despicable. Cf. JamƗl al-DƯn ণasan ibn Ynjsuf ibn Mu৬ahhar al-ণillƯ, Kashf almurƗd: Shar ۊtajrƯd al-iҵtiqƗd (Tehran: IntishƗrƗt IslƗmiyya, 1991), translation and comments by Abnj l-ণasan ShaޏrƗnƯ, 519.
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acts on behalf of God just like a prophet, yet does not receive revelation (waۊy). Consequently, the ImƗmate, as it has been defined by both Islamic political thinkers and philosophers, is a sublime reign (riҴƗsa fƗڲila)18 and its politics are noble. From the Shiite point of view, only the most sublime, holy, and infallible being can impose his reign. Hence, there is a binding relationship between the duties imposed on the imƗm and the notion of mercy. However, this mercy is not allowed to intervene over a human being’s own will, forcing him to obey. Divine guidance is therefore aimed at the rationality of the human being in order to bring him closer to God. Not all duties emerge from mercy, but simply those that engender well-being or discomfort perceivable to rationality. Prayer or fasting are, for example, not regarded as pertaining to mercy. Punishment and rebuke can, however, be regarded as part of mercy since they can function as reasons for not committing further sins. Mercy is considered neither under the rubric of natural power nor under the purview of an empowering authority. As a matter of fact, everything happens through a human being’s free will. Yet, in theological works, the kind of practical relationship free will has with the mercy of God is barely discussed. If mercy is one of those elements determined by God, then why are these elements invisible to most people? And if some do not accept these divine determinants as rationally recognizable, then why should they be regarded as a duty or even as mercy? Furthermore, if divine determinants are recognizable as rational anyway, why should the prophet and the imƗm embody mercy apart from those determinants, which in any case cannot be perceived rationally? This is, in fact, a contradiction. Furthermore, one has to consider what kind of significance mercy can actually have during the concealment of the imƗm. Are the prophets also regarded as instances of some kind of mercy? If not, what kind of responsibility and authority is legitimate for them? Finally, one would have to ask, whether the reign of ordinary human beings during the era of the concealment of the twelfth imƗm could be considered as mercy. The answers to these controversies have not yet been given by the Shiite theologians.19 18
NaৢƯr al-DƯn al-৫njsƯ adopted the utopian content of the ImƗm King outlined by al-FƗrƗbƯ, who occupies the part of a platonic philosopher-king in an ideal Islamic state. Cf. NaৢƯr al-DƯn al-৫njsƯ, AkhlƗq-i nƗ܈irƯ, ed. ޏAlƯ RiঌƗ ণaydarƯ and MujtabƗ MƯnuwƯ (Tehran: Kitabfurushi Ilmiyya Islamiyya, 1990), 252ff. 19 Abnj l-ণasan ShaޏrƗnƯ deals only insufficiently with some of these questions. Yet, he attempts to take a stand against the other theological schools. Apart from
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Within Shiite form of Islamic theology, the duties incumbent upon Muslims are also described as being positive in nature, as they aim at securing the well-being of mankind. Human beings can, it is held, attain both perfection and salvation from desire. God is regarded as the entity that gives mankind the ability to explore the world independently. In addition, rationality is regarded as the first subject God invented and presented to mankind. The aim of creation is traced back to this natural disposition in which the ability to perceive “the good” has been embedded. Therefore, theologians conclude that the manifestation of God and the attendant laws are to be regarded as the embodiment of mercy.20 The actual reign of the prophets in Medina and the imƗms’ claim to power pose further problems. This is especially true as it pertains to the reign of ޏAlƯ and the tragic fight for power between ImƗm ণusayn, the son of ޏAlƯ, and the Umayyad ruler. ণƗގirƯ is aware of this historic reality, yet still believes that the reign of these people has nothing to do with the ImƗmate. However, the fact that, apart from their function as teachers, the prophets must inevitably take up the tasks of ensuring justice and organizing governance and that these duties are in some degree part of the prophetic schema, can be deduced neither from the content of the principle of mercy nor from the adequate (taܒƗbuqƯ), inherent (iltizƗmƯ) and implicit (taܲammunƯ) signification (dalƗlat) of the remaining arguments pertaining to prophecy and the ImƗmate.21 According to ণƗގirƯ, the decision of the believers to utilize the political leadership of the prophet or ޏAlƯ during these times was voluntary since they were both regarded as the appropriate leaders for the implementing of justice in the society. In conclusion, we can determine the following: The theology of the ImƗmate is a result of the dispute regarding the leadership after the termination of prophecy and the death of the Prophet Muতammad. Apart from that, Shiite theology cannot be considered homogeneous. This theology has emerged in the context of diversity amongst the Shiite theological schools.
the principle of mercy, the theologians have presented other arguments that they referred to as rational, see ণillƯ, Kashf al-murƗd, 507ff. Muতsan ShifƗގƯ approached this issue most successfully in his book, see Muۊsan ShifƗҴƯ, ShuҴnjn-e vilƗyat (Tehran: KhurramƯ, 1978), 27–40. 20 ণillƯ, Kashf al-murƗd, 421–68. 21 ণƗގirƯ YazdƯ, ۉikma wa-ۉuknjma, 141.
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Leadership in the absence of the imƗm presents a gap as regards both the political and spiritual reign. As it pertains to the concept of the ImƗmate, one cannot perceive a clear distinction between the political and the spiritual reign. Even if this were the case, it is not a separation to be understood under the notion of Western secularism. Neither the quietist scholars amongst the Shia nor the followers of the doctrine of the clerical reign speak of the separation of religion and state. However, the quietist scholars would be theoretically capable to tolerate a political system regardless of its form during the absence of the imƗm, but only as long as the laws of Islam are not neglected. Their position stands in stark contrast to position of those that follow the doctrine of clerical rule. Simply put: theoretically, the quietist position of the Shia does not stand in the way of the creation of a secular or democratic state. Yet this does not rule out the fact that clerics will always retain a partial right to interfere with legislation and judicial concerns. This is so, because they believe that religious legal understanding is privileged above civil and political legislation. I would therefore like to point out that a claim which tries to find similarities between Islam and democratic secularism, or even tries to detect the possibility of Shiite scholars approving of a secular society, does not correspond with the traditional position of the Shia on these matters. They simply do not believe that religious jurisdiction should remain apart from political and civil life. The legal doctrine of Shiism is therefore characterized by the idea of legitimate rule by an imƗm. This rulership, when ascribed to the purview of the imƗm, leads however to a contradictory interpretation of rulership during his absence. On the one hand, authority is necessary, while on the other hand, it is in violation of the law. One can detect the attempt to rectify this contradiction in KhumaynƯ’s (d. 1989) doctrine of VilƗyat-i faqƯh, in his claim that the dominion of religious scholars is not only necessary, but also natural. Otherwise, as KhumaynƯ pointed out, religion and religious legislation would have to be terminated. In his view, this would not be in accordance with the meaning of religion and the ImƗmate. KhumaynƯ provided a few examples to explain why the determination of a successor of the prophet was regarded as both naturally and politically viable in order to ensure that the community did not remain ungoverned. However, the teaching of the ImƗmate, as well as the notion of the occultation and the eschatological return of the twelfth imƗm raised just such issues.
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On the one hand, a political and material reign has to be justified outside the purview of the imƗm. Since among the Shia rulership is viewed as a divine matter, it can only be approved by such an entity. The Shiite community—in strictest sense—cannot determine rulership without an explicit determination of its form by the imƗm. One is continuously searching for a new solution regarding rulership over the general population. With regard to the development of Shiite Islam, one can detect that the Shia comprised a religious movement despite that originally its actions were politically motivated. Although its original leading figure was not perceived as a religious saviour, in time the leadership of the imƗm developed as a form of religious and spiritual guidance. His reign could only derive validity through divine legislation and inspiration. Only the imƗm is capable of possessing true knowledge and is aware of the secrets of divine manifestation. He therefore becomes the gateway to divine manifestation and he alone is capable of infallibly leading and guiding the believers to salvation.
References Ess, Josef van. Theologie und Gesellschaft im 2. und 3. Jahrhundert Hidschra. 6 vols. Berlin: De Gruyter, 1991–97. ণƗގirƯ YazdƯ, MahdƯ. ۉikma wa-ۉuknjma. London: Shadi Publishing, 1995. Halm, Heinz. Die Schia. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1988. ণillƯ, JamƗl al-DƯn ণasan ibn Ynjsuf ibn Mu৬ahhar al-. Kashf al-murƗd: Shar ۊtajrƯd al-iҵtiqƗd. Tehran: IntishƗrƗt IslƗmiyya, 1991. translation and comments by Abnj l-ণasan ShaޏrƗnƯ. Ibn ৫iq৬aqƗ, Muতammad Ibn ޏAlƯ. TƗrƯkh-e fakhrƯ. Dar ƗdƗb-i mulkdƗrƯ wa-dawlathƗ-i islƗmƯ. Tehran: IntishƗrƗt ޏilmƯ wa-farhangƯ, 1989. trans. by Muতammad WaতƯd GulpƗyigƗnƯ. Jafri, Syed H. The Origins and Early Development of Shi´a Islam. London: Oxford University Press, 1979. KhunjƯ IৢfahƗnƯ, FaঌlallƗh Ibn RnjzbihƗn. Sulnjk al-mulnjk. Tehran: KhwƗrizmƯ, 1983. improved by Muতammad ޏAlƯ Muwaততid. KulaynƯ, Muতammad i. Y. Al-KƗfƯ fƯ ҵilm al-dƯn: TaҴlƯfƗt AbƯ Jafar Muۊammad ibn Yaҵqnjb ibn IshƗq al-KulaynƯ l-RƗzƯ. Maҵa taҵlƯqƗt nƗfiҵa maҴkhnjdha min ҵiddat shurnjۊ. Edited by ޏAlƯ Akbar al-GhaffƗrƯ. Tehran: DƗr al-Kutub al-IslƗmiyya, 1955-59.
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Masjid JƗmiޏƯ, Muতammad. ZamƯnahhƗ-i tafakkur-i siyƗsƯ: Dar qalamroui tashayyuҵ wa-tasannun. Tehran: IntishƗrƗt ণƗmid, 1990. Nagel, Tilman. Staat und Glaubensgemeinschaft im Islam: Geschichte der politischen Ordnungsvorstellungen der Muslime. 2 vols. Zurich, Munich: Artemis & Winkler, 1981. ShifƗގƯ, Muতsin. ShuҴnjn-e vilƗyat. Tehran: KhurramƯ, 1978. ৫abƗ৬abƗގƯ, Muতammad ণ. ShƯҵa dar IslƗm. Tehran: IntishƗrƗt Hijrat, 1982. Introduced by ণusayn Naৢr. ৫njsƯ, NaৢƯr al-DƯn al-. AkhlƗq-i nƗ܈irƯ. Edited by ޏAlƯ RiঌƗ ণaydarƯ and MujtabƗ MƯnuwƯ. Tehran: Kitabfurushi Ilmiyya Islamiyya, 1990.
CHAPTER EIGHT AUTHORITY AND RITUALS IN THE SHIA ISMAILI TRADITION: AN INTERPRETATIVE ANALYSIS YAHIA BAIZA
The discourse of religious authority and rituals in Islam, as well as in all other religions, is loaded with theological, political and ideological values. Over the course of history, different religious and cultural groups have developed different definitions, interpretations and understandings of these two concepts. Each group uses contemporary as well as historical collective (written and oral) memories, including the divine/sacred scripture, to justify and legitimise their definition and notion of authority and rituals. Generally, religious authority is associated with power, religious rituals, and community. Such a form of authority becomes meaningful when it exercises its power in a given community by way of religious rituals, consent, knowledge, and decision-making. In the context of this study, the notion of religious authority is strictly interwoven with the office of the Shia NizƗrƯ Ismaili (hereafter, Ismaili) ImƗmate, which is represented by a living and present imƗm of the time. The authority of the imƗm has a direct impact on the life of Ismaili communities around the world and on religious rituals they practice. Generally, the term ritual generally refers to fixed, repetitive, and meaningful actions, which could be both religious and non-religious, but not all fixed and repetitive actions are rituals. For instance, theatrical dramas are not rituals, but a type of performing art. In this study, religious rituals are understood to be those repetitive acts and ceremonies that invoke the concept of divine presence and divine influence, expecting to create a discernible and favourable change in a person’s or a community’s physical and/or spiritual life. The Ismaili community’s practice of religious rituals demonstrates their obedience to their imƗm of the time, whose authority, as they believe, is divinely ordained by the Prophet
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Muতammad’s designation. This form of authority influences the Ismaili community’s religious rituals, and strengthens connectedness among its members by way of shaping their identity. This paper shares the findings of an exploratory interpretative analysis of religious authority and rituals in the Ismaili context. It focuses on how authority influences religious rituals on the one hand; and how religious rituals routinize and internalise the notion of authority on the other hand. These two questions, which are the cornerstones of this investigation, assume that religious authority and rituals are mutually connected to one another in a circular structure and relationship. This assumption leads to the argument that religious authority generally guarantees the legitimacy of religious rituals, whereas the performance of religious rituals expresses the acceptance of authority without hesitation, hindrance or resistance. An investigation of the two has also lead this author to propose a second argument that religious rituals do not represent fixed actions, rather they are subject to change and evolution. Although the argument of change in relation to religious rituals appears contradictory at first glance, since rituals are popularly viewed as, and are traditionally understood to be static and unchanging, this paper demonstrates that they do change and evolve over the course of history. The articulated aims and arguments unfold first with a brief introduction to the NizƗrƯ Ismailis followed by an analysis of the Weberian notion of authority. There is then an analytical discussion of authority from the Shia, and specifically Ismaili perspective. This paper continues with a discussion on change and continuity in religious rituals, and concludes with an interpretative analysis of two concrete cases of shahƗda (testimony) and zakƗt (almsgiving) in the Ismaili context.
The NizƗrƯ Ismailis The phrase Shia ImƗmƯ Ismaili Muslims (commonly known as the Ismailis) designates one of the several Shia interpretations of Islam. The issue of authority or the rightful heir of ImƗmate, following the death of the fifth Shia imƗm, Jaޏfar al-ৡƗdiq (ImƗmate: 114–48/733–65),1 led to the 1
The Ismailis consider Jaޏfar al-ৡƗdiq their fifth, where as the IthnƗ ޏAsharƯs considers him as their sixth, imƗm. This difference is rooted in the doctrinal view of both Shiite groups. According to Ismaili doctrine, there are two types of imƗms: mustaqarr (established) and mustawdiҵ (entrusted). The former is an imƗm in whose progeny the line of ImƗmate will continue, whereas the latter is an imƗm upon whom the office of ImƗmate is entrusted temporarily. A clear example of the former is the ImƗmate of ণusayn b. AbƯ ৫Ɨlib, whereas and example of the latter is the ImƗmate of his brother ণasan b. AbƯ ৫Ɨlib. Since ণasan was a temporary
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emergence of several splinter groups. These groups eventually gathered around al-ৡƗdiq’s two sons, IsmƗޏƯl and MnjsƗ, whose followers came to be known as the Ismaili and IthnƗ ޏAsharƯ (hereafter, IthnƗ ޏAsharƯ) Muslims. Over the course of history, the Ismailis have also witnessed several schisms. A dispute over the succession to the eighth Fatimid imƗm-caliph, al-Mustanৢir bi-AllƗh (r. 427–487/1036–1094), divided the Ismailis into two groups. One group followed al-Mustanৢir’s younger son, al-MustaޏlƯ and formed what came to be known as the MustaޏlawƯ, whereas the other group followed the caliph-imƗm’s eldest son and the designated imƗm, NizƗr. Those who believed in the rightful succession of NizƗr, came to be known as the NizƗrƯ Ismailis. Currently, Aga Khan IV (hereafter, Aga Khan) is the 49th hereditary Shia NizƗrƯ Ismaili imƗm of the time having acceded to the ImƗmate on 11 July 1957. This study focuses on the concept of authority and religious rituals in the NizƗrƯ Ismaili tradition.
Authority: A Weberian debate There is a plethora of definitions and types of authority and power across different societies and cultures. Among a wide range of theories and definitions, Max Weber’s theory of authority and power is the most debated. In his Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft (Economy and Society), Weber (d. 1920) extensively deals with the issue of authority, power and its legitimacy. Weber’s notion of authority and power was influenced by his predecessor and German scholar and sociologist Georg Jellinek (d. 1911). In his Allgemeine Staatslehre (General Theory of the State), Jellinek describes the state in terms of the ‘relationships of will’ (Willensverhältnisse) between people who command (befehlen) and others who obey those commands (die diesen Befehlen Gehorsam zollen). The essence of this relationship is determined by a relationship of domination (Herrschaftsverhältnisse) between the ruling (die Herrschenden) and the ruled (die Beherrschten).2 For Jellinek this relationship between the ruling and the ruled is so important that without it the notion of the state is inconceivable. The state alone has sovereign power and is able to impose its will on others. This power of the unconditional enforcement of one’s will on others rests
imƗm, and the line of ImƗmate did not continue through his lineage, the Ismailis do not include him in their list of permanent or established imƗms and they deem Jaޏfar al-ৡƗdiq the fifth imƗm. In contrast, the IthnƗ ޏAsharƯs consider ণasan the second imƗm, and Jaޏfar al-ৡƗdiq their sixth imƗm. 2 Georg Jellinek, Allgemeine Staatslehre, 3rd ed. (Berlin: O. Haering, 1914), 176– 77.
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exclusively with the state.3 Jellinek’s theory of state and the concept of ‘rule,’ in the form of relationships of domination between people, provided an important basis for Weber’s theory of authority and power. Weber develops Jellinek’s concept of ‘rule’ (Herrschaft) further, and terms it as ‘power’ (Macht). In contrast to Jellinek, who focused on the role of the state in the relationship based on power between the ruling and the ruled people, Weber elaborates the concept of power as part of his study of people’s social relationship in society. This is a fundamental change and progression in the theory of authority and power. In explaining his view of ‘social relationship,’ Weber focuses on two points: people’s actions and behaviour in society, and the content of action itself. With regard to these two points, Weber states that a social action happens either in relation to, or when it takes into account, the action(s) of other person(s), regardless of the time of its occurrence.4 Based on this elaboration of the concept of the social relationship, Weber makes a fine distinction between ‘power’ (Macht) and ‘domination’ (Herrschaft). Weber defines power as “the probability that one actor within a social relationship will be in a position to carry out his own will despite resistance, regardless of the basis on which this probability rests”. In clear contrast to ‘power,’ Weber defines ‘domination’ as “the probability that a command with a given specific content will be obeyed by a given group of persons”. In addition, Weber’s definition of ‘domination’ also involves the concept of ‘discipline,’ which he defines as “the probability that by virtue of habituation a command will receive prompt and automatic obedience in stereotyped forms, on the part of a given group of persons”.5 In Weber’s concept of ‘power,’ mutual consensus and agreement between ‘ruler’ and ‘ruled’ could be, but not necessarily is, an essential part of the social action and/or relationship. Resistance against power could lead to uncomfortable consequences and threat of sanctions. In contrast, the concept of ‘domination’ does not assume a forced influence. There is an expectation that the command will be obeyed, but obedience to it is not sought, at least as a primary approach, through means of the threat of sanctions. Such an expectation is rather fulfilled through ‘discipline’ and habituation, which is a slow process and requires a long period of time. One of the key aspects of the concept of authority and power, which is relevant to the subject of this paper, is the question of legitimacy and 3
Ibid., 180. Max Weber, Economy and Society: An Outline of Interpretive Sociology, ed. Roth Guenther and Claus Wittich (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1978), 26–27. 5 Ibid., 53. 4
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legitimate order. Weber differentiates between two different forms of legitimacy. The first one is purely subjective, which is rooted and exists in the actors’ personal emotions, feelings and determination. These include affectual, value-rational and religious actions, each with a distinguishing quality. The validity of affectual action is guaranteed by and/or is primarily rooted in personal ethical emotions and commitments which may, but not always, be controlled by a rational consciousness. The validity of value-rational action is determined by a conscious belief in the absolute validity of an order which may, but not necessarily, be based on a religious thought. Religious action demonstrates the actor’s belief in personal and collective salvation that is achievable through obedience.6 Thus these three subjective actions and orders, each of which aims at achieving a certain (pre-)conceived goal, demonstrate a gradual change and progression from a pure personal emotion in affectual action at one end of the scale to a value-rational action in the middle, and a strong religious consciousness at the other end of the scale. The second source of the legitimacy of an action is derived from external factors. Here, Weber distinguishes two types of external effects: convention and law. Convention refers to accepted social norms, the validity of which is guaranteed by social norms and standards, regardless of the actor’s belief and conviction in those norms and practices. A violation of conventional rules, e.g., standards of “respectability” (Standessitte), often leads to uncomfortable consequences, which could include extremely severe and effective sanctions, such as an informal boycott on the part of members of one’s status group. Such unwanted consequences could, therefore, be uncomfortable and disturbing. Similarly, the validity of ‘law,’ as the second type of external factor, does not necessarily need a specific “judicial” authority. Here, it is worth highlighting that Weber’s notion of this particular external form of the validity of authority does not conform with current international laws and the bodies which implement them, and which have evolved and developed extensively since Weber wrote his Economy and Society, sometime during or after the First World War. Weber, for instance, states that the validity of international law is guaranteed by international organisations, despite the fact that there is no legal authority above the state capable of enforcing it.7 This situation was true during the lifetime of Weber, but it is no longer the case. For instance, the United Nations Security Council acts as a judicial as well as implementation body for international law. The five permanent 6 7
Ibid., 25, 33–34. Ibid., 34–35.
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Security Council members debate, judge, and decide upon major international courses of action. However, Weber is right in stating that in non-international settings, particularly in societies where the modern state is less powerful, the validity of social norms is guaranteed by clan, tribal, and community leaders.8 However, even in the context of international law, one may still give Weber credit for the fact that international laws operate informally, although the laws often receive support from a considerable number of international member states. Therefore, although their decisions are not always binding, and the affected person, group of people or a state may refuse to obey them, they cannot escape the threat of sanctions. Hence these forms of authority and power are very effective, and their legitimacy does not necessarily need a specific judicial authority. Authority and power in a religious context operate on a similar principle. They are not necessarily in need of judicial courts and decisions, but their verdicts or the validity of their orders and actions remain very powerful. However, one ought not to forget that religious institutions issue verdicts. People can refuse to obey them, but they must take into account the social consequences. Apparently, it is only in the case of prophets and radical reformers that a person or a group of people can depart from the established social norms and succeed in avoiding the consequences of the threat of sanctions. In the short-term, the prophets and reformers face and encounter the threat of sanctions. Although not all reformers may succeed in bringing about the changes desired, prophets do succeed over a longer period of time. Therefore, in the initial phase of their mission, prophets and radical reformers become subject to social and political sanctions, and are often excommunicated and isolated from the very community they want to reform. Their success is primarily the result of their charisma, their consciousness of their actions, the intrinsic value of their mission, and the fact that their objectives are clearly determined. In the case of the prophets, one may also add what is perceived to be, divine or sacred will and power to these. Weber states that “conscious departures from tradition in the establishment of a new order were originally almost entirely due to prophetic oracles or at least to pronouncements which were sanctioned as prophetic and thus were considered sacred”.9 The validity and legitimacy of a prophet’s orders and actions are guaranteed by a traditional belief in the divine order, but more importantly by the prophet’s personal charisma and ability to convince people to believe in his mission. This is why the prophets, whose names have endured, have all been able to leave behind 8 9
Ibid., 34–35. Ibid., 37.
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them a sacred tradition. In the context of Islam, the Prophet Muতammad carried out his prophetic mission over two decades (610-632), during which he established and left behind a sacred tradition, the validity of which has lasted till today. It is this sacred tradition which not only guarantees the legitimacy of the Prophet’s actions, but also the social and religious actions as well as religious rituals of millions of people who have followed and still follow him and his tradition. Similarly, religious authority and rituals in the Ismaili tradition, which will be discussed in the next sections, are rooted in, and gain their validity from, the sacred tradition of the Prophet Muতammad.
Authority: A Shia Ismaili perspective Shia Islam derives its concept of authority from the QurގƗn and the tradition of the Prophet Muতammad. The QurގƗn does not provide a specific definition, or any details, regarding the concept of authority. However, the QurގƗn makes it very clear that the absolute authority over the earth and heavens and everything between them rests with God Himself. God is the creator and originator of the universe, life, the human soul and everything in both the physical and spiritual worlds. He is also the sole authority on the subject of the judging of people’s actions in the Day of Judgment. Apparently, such references are fundamental to the notion of absolute authority and for a systemic concept of belief, because in the absence of an ultimate authority the question of authority itself remains open-ended, and the notion of authority would never find a solid and stable foundation if it constantly referred to something else. The QurގƗn presents the notion of authority by way of the term command (amr), and obedience (ܒƗҵa) is present throughout the sacred text. Said Amir Arjomand suggests that the QurގƗn implicitly provides a dual form of authority: dƯn (religion) and mulk (temporal rule).10 In the QurގƗn, God refers to Himself as the originator, the owner and the ruler of the heavens and the earth, and everything between them. Based on this description of the divine power and authority, it is logical that He is not interested in providing any specific definition of His authority. Equally, any such definition will neither capture nor do justice to His power and authority. Therefore, it is natural that He describes the notion of authority in the broadest possible terms: command and obedience.
10 S. Amir Arjomand, Authority and Political Culture in Shi‘ism (New York: State University of New York Press, 1988), 1.
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The notion of command and obedience also plays a crucial role in the relationship between God and the Prophet Muতammad. The QurގƗn repeatedly states that the Prophet is merely a messenger, whose job is to preach and deliver God’s message. This description of the Prophet’s role requires interpretative analysis and a careful reading. The QurގƗn does not undermine the Prophet’s authority, nor does it ascribe him a passive role. Rather it supports the Prophet’s authority by way of describing him as someone who does everything in accordance with the divine command. This elevates the Prophet’s authority to a level that makes his words and actions identical with the divine wish and will. Thus in this deity-prophet relationship, the conception of the authority of God and His Prophet respectively come so close to one another that they begin to mirror each other. In other words, the authority of the Prophet becomes an extension of divine authority, which is conferred, confirmed and witnessed by the QurގƗn. Consequently, disobeying the Prophet could, at least in theory, count as disobeying God Himself. The question of legitimate authority became a serious issue in the immediate aftermath of the Prophet’s death and the subject has been handled variously across the history of Muslim thought and Muslim polities. Generally, it is deeply intertwined with the politics of succession to the Prophet. The majority of the Muslims in Medina, including the Prophet’s close companions, three of whom (Abnj Bakr, ޏUmar and ޏUthmƗn) became the first three caliphs, convened a traditional Arab tribal council (an assembly of tribal chiefs and influential political and social figures) and elected Abnj Bakr as the Prophet’s successor. Abnj Bakr (caliphate: 632–34) was succeeded by ޏUmar b. al-Kha৬৬Ɨb (caliphate: 634–44) and ޏUthmƗn b. ޏAffƗn (caliphate: 644–56), before ޏAlƯ Ibn AbƯ ৫Ɨlib (caliphate: 656–61) was chosen as the fourth caliph. While these four caliphs were among the Prophet’s close companions, later Muslim generations came to regard them as the rightly-guided caliphs (al-khulafƗҴ al-rƗshidnjn). Each caliph had his own characteristic way of ruling, influencing the notion of authority and governing the Muslim communities. Throughout Muslim history, there has been a minority group that has given their support to the rights of the fourth caliph ޏAlƯ b. AbƯ ৫Ɨlib (hereafter, ޏAlƯ), whom they recognised as the only legitimate and rightful successor to the Prophet’s religious and temporal authority. This group came to be known as the ShƯҵat ҵAlƯ (the Party of ޏAlƯ, hereafter, the Shia), and laid the foundation for what centuries later became the Shia interpretation of Islam. Shiite Muslims trace the claim for the legitimacy of ޏAlƯ’s succession back to the Prophet’s speech at the event of GhadƯr Khumm, which they
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combine with certain QurގƗnic verses. The Shia employ historical, theological and political discourses to prove the validity of their claims. Sunni groups apply a similar approach to prove their respective notion of authority. However, it is beyond the scope of this paper to focus on the Sunni notion of authority. This paper primarily concentrates on the Shiite and by extension the Ismaili tradition. The event of GhadƯr Khumm took place in 632, when the Prophet Muতammad was returning to Medina from his final pilgrimage, known as the farewell pilgrimage (ۊajjat al-widƗҵ). According to both Sunni and Shia authoritative sources, the Prophet stopped at GhadƯr Khumm and delivered a speech in favour of ޏAlƯ. In his speech, the Prophet said, “Whoever I am the master of, then ޏAlƯ is also his master” (man kuntnj mawlƗhu, fa-ҵAlƯ mawlƗhu);11 and also, “[O ޏAlƯ!] You are to me as Aaron was to Moses, except that there is no prophet after me”.12 A number of contemporary scholars even go further and describe more details of the event. Jawad Muscati and Paula Sanders, for instance, state that after this pronouncement ޏUmar b. al-Kha৬৬Ɨb addressed ޏAlƯ, “Greeting to you, O son of Abnj ৫Ɨlib. You have become the mawlƗ of every believer, man and woman”.13 These sources not only confirm the event of GhadƯr Khumm, but they also highlight ޏAlƯ’s position in relation to the Prophet Muতammad as a wa܈Ư (legatee), one who succeeds the prophet once the prophetic mission is completed. The Shiite tradition considers the event of GhadƯr Khum as the beginning of ޏAlƯ’s walƗya (guardianship) of the Muslim community. In the Shia notion of authority, ޏAlƯ’s walƗya symbolises the beginning of the era of imƗmate and the culmination of the era of prophethood (nubuwwa). In the Shia religious calendar, the event of GhadƯr Khumm is celebrated as an important festive occasion (ҵƮd GhadƯr). Shiite historians and jurists discuss the Prophet’s speech in connection with divine revelations. AlKulaynƯ, a fourth/tenth century IthnƗ ޏAsharƯ (Twelver Shia) compiler of ۊadƯth (the Prophet’s speech), states that God revealed the following verse in relation to ޏAlƯ’s succession: “Today I have perfected your faith/religion
11
Aতmad Ibn ণanbal, Musnad al-ImƗm Aۊmad Ibn ۉanbal (Lahore: Maktaba-e Rehmania, 2011), 333. 12 M. ibn YazƯd ibn MƗjah, Sunan (Beirut: DƗr IতyƗ ގal-TurƗth al-ޏArabƯ, 1975), 1:43; Muslim, Al-JƗmiҵ al-܇aۊƯ( ۊLahore: Sh. Muতammad Ashraf, 1976); Trans. by Abdul Hamid Siddiqi, 2:1258–59. 13 Jawad Muscati, Life and Lectures of the Grand Missionary al-Muayyad-fid-Din al-Shirazi (Karachi: The Agakhan Shia Imami Ismailia Association for Canada, 1950), 145; Paula Sanders, “Claiming the past: GhadƯr Khumm and the Rise of ণƗfiƯ Historiography in Late FƗ৬imid Egypt,” Studia Islamica 75 (1992): 88.
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for you and completed my favour upon you and have chosen for you Islam as a faith/religion” (QurގƗn, 5:3). Al-KulaynƯ also narrates a hadƯth on the authority of ޏAlƯ himself, that says, “Thus my guardianship (walƗya) became the perfection of God’s religion and His favour.14 The Shia Ismaili sources also elaborate the event of GhadƯr Khumm in relation to ޏAlƯ’s walƗya. The renowned Fatimid jurist Abnj ণanƯfa al-NuޏmƗn Ibn Muতammad, better known as al-QƗঌƯ lNuޏmƗn, begins his DaҵƗҴim al-IslƗm (The Pillars of Islam) with the “Book of WalƗya”. It is clear that al-QƗঌƯ l-NuޏmƗn purposely opened his work with this topic as it signifies the importance of walƗya and ޏAlƯ’s authority in the Shiite tradition. Al-Qadi al-Nuޏman narrates a tradition on the authority of ImƗm Jaޏfar al-ৡƗdiq (d. 148/765), who stated that the messenger of God explained in detail the prescribed religious obligations, such as prayer, fasting and pilgrimage, until God ordered the walƗya of ޏAlƯ, when God said, “Your guardian (walƯ) can be only God; and His messenger and those who believe, who establish worship and pay the poor-due while bowing down (in prayer)” (QurގƗn, 5:55). Al-QƗঌƯ l-NuޏmƗn continues recounting this tradition, which goes on to say that God ordained the walƗya, but as people did not know what walƗya was, God ordered the prophet Muতammad to explain this in the same manner as he explained prayer, alms-giving, fasting and pilgrimage. However, this divine command greatly distressed the Prophet, who was afraid that the community would become disgruntled and declare him to be false. The Prophet turned to God, who revealed the following verse to him, “O Messenger, deliver [to the people] what has been revealed to you from your Lord; and if you do not do so then you have not delivered His message; and God will protect you from the people” (QurގƗn, 5:67). From the Shiite perspective, the Prophet complied with God’s command and proclaimed ޏAlƯ’s walƗya on the day of GhadƯr Khumm.15 AlMuގayyad fƯ-l-DƯn ShƯrƗzƯ, the chief dƗҵƯ (summoner) of the Fatimid caliph-imƗm al-Mustanৢir bi-AllƗh (r. 427–487/1036–1094), stated in support of al-QƗঌƯ l-NuޏmƗn’s elaboration of walƗya that no branch of Islam believes that the Prophet fell short of delivering the divine message in such matters as the performance of prayers, alms-giving, fasting and pilgrimage, or taking part in jihƗd. However, it was the question of
14 Muতammad Ibn Yaގqnjb al-KulaynƯ, al-KƗfƯ (Tehran: al-Maktaba al-IslƗmiyya, 1977), 1:42. 15 Abnj ণanƯfa al-QƗঌƯ l-NuޏmƗn, DaҵƗҴim al-IslƗm (Beirut: DƗr al-AঌwƗގ, 1995), 51–52; Abnj ণanƯfa al-QƗঌƯ l-NuޏmƗn, DaҵƗҴim al-IslƗm (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 18–20.
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walƗya—the allegiance to ޏAlƯ and the imƗms from among his descendants, which worried him the most. Al-Muގayyad further elaborated on the debates. He adds that because the Prophet found the people burning with hatred and jealousy, the Prophet Muতammad hesitated to deliver this ordinance to them and he was waiting for a favourable time. He pronounced ޏAlƯ’s walƗya immediately after the above verses (QurގƗn, 5:55 and 67) were revealed to clear his doubts.16 AlMuގayyad, like every other Ismaili dƗҵƯ and scholar of the Fatimid and succeeding periods, had no doubt that the above verses were revealed in direct connection with the ordinance of the walƗya of ޏAlƯ and the imƗms from his progeny. Locating the above verses within the context of the Prophet’s utterances at GhadƯr Khumm, he commented that if the ordinance of walƗya was not the core of the above verses, this would make the revelation of these verses meaningless and superfluous. Since the above verses lay emphasis on the delivery of the ordinance, it proves that believing in the walƗya is the cornerstone of religion.17 These Ismaili arguments suggest that because other religious duties and rituals required explanation, the Prophet’s speech in favour of ޏAlƯ at GhadƯr Khumm thus explained and demonstrated the ordinance of the walƗya of ޏAlƯ both in words and action. Al-QƗঌƯ l-NuޏmƗn explained that the Prophet did this by taking ޏAlƯ’s hand and bringing him close to himself. Then he said: “O people! ޏAlƯ’s relationship to me is that of Aaron to Moses with an exception that there is no prophet after me, and ޏAlƯ is your protecting friend (walƯ) after me. Whoever I am his master, then ޏAlƯ is his master.” Then, the Prophet uttered the following prayer for ޏAlƯ: O God! Love whoever loves him (wƗla man wƗlƗ-hu), and be enemy of whoever is his enemy (‘Ɨda man ‘ƗdƗ-hu), and support whoever supports him (an܈ur man na܈ara-hu), and abandon whoever abandons him (akhdhul man khadhala-hu), and turn the truth with him wherever he turns (adar alۊaqq maҵa-hu ۊaythu dƗr).18
Despite the fact that the Sunni sources accept the event of GhadƯr Khumm and the Prophet’s statements in favour of ޏAlƯ, the Sunni traditions do not view the above verses and the Prophet’s utterance as a declaration of ޏAlƯ’s succession to the Prophet. Similarly, the majority of 16
al-Muގayyad fƯ-l-DƯn al-ShirƗzƯ, Life and Lectures of the Grand Missionary AlMuayyad-fid-Din Al-Shirazi, ed. Jawad Muscati (Karachi: The Agakhan Shia Imami Ismailia Association for Canada, 1950), 2:142–43. 17 Ibid., 141–44. 18 QƗঌƯ l-NuޏmƗn, DaҵƗҴim al-IslƗm, 52–53.
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the Prophet’s companions did not accept ޏAlƯ as the only legitimate successor to the Prophet Muতammad. From the Shiite perspective, and as has already been mentioned in al-Muގayyad’s interpretation, the people’s and even the companions’ hatred and jealousy of ޏAlƯ were the Prophet Muতammad’s major concern, forcing him to delay the pronouncement of ޏAlƯ’s walƗya until a favourable time. In the Shiite tradition, the event of GhadƯr Khumm demonstrates the culmination of God’s message and the Prophet’s final mission, the declaration of which ended the era of prophethood and initiated the era of the imƗmate. Therefore, in the Shiite interpretation of Islam, the imƗmate is one of the key religious principles (u܈njl al-dƯn) and the highest post-prophetic authority without which faith in Islam is not complete. In his elaboration of the role and position of the Ismaili imƗmate, NaৢƯr al-DƯn ৫njsƯ (d. 672/1274), the prominent scholar and chief Ismaili dƗҵƯ of the Alamnjt period (483/1090-654/1256), states that the sharƯҵas of previous prophets become complete in the perfection of the Prophet Muতammad’s sharƯҵa, and that the Prophet stands at the commencement of the era of qiyƗma, which starts with the imƗmate of ޏAlƯ.19 In Ismaili tradition and history, the authority vested in ޏAlƯ has continued through the hereditary and uninterrupted line of the imƗmate over 1400 years. ޏAlƯ represents the first, and the current NizƗrƯ Ismaili imƗm of the time, Karim Aga Khan IV (acceded to the imƗmate: 11 July 1957), represents the 49th hereditary living, imƗm of the time. In the Ismaili context, the imƗm of the time is the absolute and sole authority on all matters of religion. From the Ismaili perspective, he alone can interpret the QurގƗn and religious rituals and traditions in accordance with the needs of the time. At the same time, he is primarily responsible for the guidance of those communities that obey his authority and turn to him for help and support.
Religious rituals: change and continuity Generally, the term ‘ritual’ indicates fixed acts and actions that take place at certain recurrent moments in which certain bodily gestures, words, music and material objects may play a role. Based on this notion, rituals tend to be highly conservative.20 Historically speaking, religious rituals are 19
NaৢƯr al-DƯn al-৫njsƯ, Paradise of Submission: A Medieval Treatise on Ismaili Thought (London: I.B. Tauris, 2005); A New Persian Edition and English Translation of ৫njsƯ’s Rawঌa-yi taslƯm by S. Jalal Badakhchani, 172–75. 20 Peter van der Veer, “Religion,” in Encyclopedia of Social and Cultural Anthropology, ed. Alan Barnard and Jonathan Spencer (London: Routledge, 2002), 726–33.
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subject to change and evolution. The debates of this section aim to demonstrate that rituals evolve over the course of history. This view makes the topic of change in religious ritual appear paradoxical at first glance, as religious rituals derive much of their authority, influence and power from presenting themselves as static, invariable and timeless.21 Therefore, change in religious rituals might be perceived as a negative element or even as a deviation from traditionally accepted principles and practices. However, this section is not concerned with negative or positive perceptions of change. Rather it demonstrates that religious rituals do change over the course of history; and that they may be inspired or caused by theological, social and political factors and discourses. The Muslim call to prayer (ƗdhƗn) provides a typical case study. A brief analysis of the historicity of the subject reveals that changes in the ritual of the call to prayer have taken place over the course of history. First, from the Shiite viewpoint, the dropping of the phrase ۊayya ҵalƗ khayr al-ҵamal (make haste to the best work) from the original call to prayer and adding the phrase al-܈alƗt khayr min al-nawm (prayer is better than sleep) for the morning call to prayer, in the Sunni tradition, reflects a change that occurred after the Prophet’s lifetime. Similarly, and selfcritically, most of the Shiite jurists (fuqahƗҴ) believe that adding the third testimony, concerning ޏAlƯ’s walƗya and authority (which is discussed in the next section) to the adhƗn is equally not in line with the Prophetic tradition. The explanation the Shiite IthnƗ ޏAsharƯ jurists and historians propose reflects the theological and political discourses that led to the declaration of the third testimony and its inclusion in the daily call to prayer. It is believed that the third testimony emerged during the Umayyad caliphate, when, after the martyrdom of the Prophet’s grandson ণusayn ibn ޏAlƯ, the Umayyad caliphs renounced and persecuted ޏAlƯ’s supporters and sympathisers, and began to destroy anything that was associated with ޏAlƯ and his household. As a political and theological response, and fearing that the Umayyads’ policy could erase the name of ޏAlƯ from history, but also to preserve their loyalty to ޏAlƯ and maintain their Shiite identity, ޏAlƯ’s supporters developed the third testimony. While this narrative refers to the political and theological discourses of the third testimony, it also demonstrates the historicity of religious rituals and the changes that happen over the course of history.
21
Jens Kreinath, “The Dynamics of Changing Rituals,” in The Dynamics of Changing Rituals: The Transformation of Religious Rituals within Their Social and Cultural Context, ed. Jens Kreinath, Constance Hartung and Annette Deschner (New York: Peter Lang, 2004), 267.
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Secondly, there is a debate among Sunni Muslims concerning the call to the Friday prayer. The question is why in most of the Muslim countries Friday mosques give two calls for the Friday prayer, while during the Prophet’s lifetime there was only one. Sunni jurists accept the point that two calls for Friday prayer came into being during the caliphate of ޏUthmƗn Ibn ޏAffƗn. The Prophet’s tradition refers to a single call to the Friday prayer, which was given just before or at the time when the Prophet would ascend the minbar (pulpit) to deliver his khuܒba (sermon), and an iqƗma (a call to start the prayer) was uttered right after the Prophet finished his sermon. The mainstream explanation for adding the second call to the Friday prayer is that it happened in accordance with the time and the need of the Muslim community in Medina and that the first two caliphs (Abnj Bakr and ޏUmar) followed the Prophet’s tradition, while the third caliph, ‘UthmƗn, changed the ritual of the adhƗn in order to adjust the ritual of the Friday prayer in accordance with the changing circumstances in Medina. The key change in Medina was believed to be the significant increase in the Muslim population, in response to which the caliph ‘UthmƗn introduced a second adhƗn, which came to be known as adhƗn awwal (the first call to prayer), in order to draw the attention of the people to the Friday prayer. This adjustment reflects the fact that the caliph’s decision was based on the needs of the time. Generally, these changes also reflect the flexibility of religious rituals in accommodating such changes. They also confirm the historical fact that religious rituals are not fixed or static. Rather they do change and evolve over the course of history and accommodate the needs of the time, regardless of whether such changes are caused by political, theological, social, economic, or any other factors. The debates in the next two sections further elaborate and demonstrate changes in religious rituals, and the diversity of interpretations.
The confession of faith The declaration of the shahƗda (testimony or confession of faith) is the first important pillar of Islam. The term is derived from the Arabic verb sha-hi-da meaning to witness, observe, or testify. In the form sha-hƗ-da, it means testifying, attesting, confirming, or bearing witness to something. The root also has a second meaning of martyrdom. In the context of religious rituals, it refers to the most important statement (kalima) of faith, through which Muslims testify that they believe and accept God’s oneness (tawۊƯd), and that the Prophet Muতammad is God’s messenger (rasnjl AllƗh). These two testimonies, or confessions of faith, are also known as the twin testimonies (shahƗdatayn): The first shahƗda declares the divine
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unity: LƗ ilƗha illƗ AllƗh (There is no God but the One God). The second shahƗda testifies that the Prophet Muতammad is the divine messenger: Muۊammad rasnjl AllƗh (Muতammad is the Messenger of the One God). These two testimonies are recited by all Muslims alike. The first confession of faith clearly expresses the divine authority that is ‘absolute’ without any spiritual or physical parallel. The second confession of faith declares the Prophet Muতammad’s authority. The first testimony also guarantees the legitimacy of the Prophet Muতammad’s authority and his prophetic mission, whereas the second testimony manifests an extension of the divine authority. As has already been noted, in the course of history, the Shiite interpretation of Islam developed a third confession of faith regarding the walƗya of ޏAlƯ, which represents the Shiite vision of post-prophetic authority: ҵAlƯyun walƯ AllƗh (ޏAlƯ is the vicegerent of the One God). This third testimony has become a form of identity, or at least an outward or external sign, of Shiite Islam. As has already been discussed, Shiite Muslims believe that the Prophet Muতammad designated ޏAlƯ as his successor (khalƯfa) and legatee (wa܈Ư). The Shiite theological argument for this belief is that humanity is always in need of a divinely appointed teacher to interpret and explain the divine messages in accordance with changing circumstances and the needs of the time. In the Shiite sense of authority, ޏAlƯ and the imƗms from his progeny are the divinely appointed teachers who, after the Prophet’s death, have complete authority to interpret the divine messages and guide the Muslim nation in each era. Therefore, in accordance with the Shiite tradition, professing ޏAlƯ’s walƗya and authority is as important as the confession of the twin testimonies. Consequently, the third testimony has become an integrated part of the Shiite call for prayer and the iqƗmat al-܈alƗt (standing ready for prayer). Even though some jurists view the inclusion of this testimony to the daily adhƗn and iqƗma permissible (mustaۊabb) as long as it is an expression of love for ޏAlƯ, other jurists view it as a matter of blessing, and yet others disagree with its inclusion in the adhƗn and iqƗma because it did not exist during the Prophet’s lifetime. The Fatimids (909-1171), a Shiite Ismaili caliphate, which made its capital at Cairo, also employed this third testimony as an expression of their external appearance. They bore this third testimony on their coins, which demonstrated their distinct ޏAlid/Shiite identity. Coins of the fourth Fatimid caliph al-Muޏizz (r. 341–365/953–975) bore the inscriptions: LƗ ilƗha illƗ AllƗh (there is no God but the One God), Muۊammad rasnjl AllƗh (Muতammad is the Messenger of the One God), and ޏAlƯ wa܈iyyu-hu (ޏAlƯ
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is his [the Prophet’s] legatee).22 These three testimonies demonstrate the Fatimid’s monotheist, Islamic and Shiite beliefs and principles. The last testimony in particular manifests their Shiite belief and identity. Later Fatimid coins, from the time of al-ণƗkim bi-Amr AllƗh (r. 386–411/996– 1021) to the fall of the Fatimid caliphate in 566/1171, also bore the first two shahƗdas, and the third shahƗda as ҵAliyun waliyyu-llƗh (ޏAlƯ is the vicegerent of the One God).23 Apparently, the Fatimids pursued a number of objectives in placing the third shahƗda on their coins. Politically, it represented their Shiite identity, which differed from that of their rivals the Abbasid caliphs, who were Sunnis. Historically, the Fatimids were tracing their genealogical link through ޏAlƯ and the Prophet’s daughter FƗ৬ima, to the Prophet Muতammad himself. Theologically, ޏAlƯ’s walƗya also served to guarantee the legitimacy of their rule and confirm them as the legitimate inheritors of the Prophet’s temporal and religious authorities. Their theological interests also mirrored their political purpose. The demonstration of their monotheist, Islamic and Shiite beliefs was an important expression of their faith, because as their rival, the Abbasid caliphate was actively disseminating propaganda against the Fatimids and accusing them of deviation from the Abrahamic faith and from Islam itself. These were the important external and internal factors that determined the Fatimid’s identity and a Shiite interpretation of governance within the broader Muslim polity. Thus the confession of faith does not merely express a Muslim’s belief, but it also represents a historical evolution, during which competing groups have struggled for their political, theological and intellectual survival. For the Shiite Muslims, uttering the testimonies, particularly the third one, is also a matter and an expression of community identity and conception of authority.
Alms The practice of giving alms (zakƗt) constitutes an important religious obligation, and a fundamental pillar in Islam. The noun zakƗt is derived from the Arabic root z-k-w (zakawa), which means ‘to grow, to increase’; and, in the moral sense, it also means to be pure, just, and honest in one’s heart. In Islam, the ritual of almsgiving represents a purpose-oriented ethical principle and social action that can be viewed from at least three different perspectives. First, giving away a portion of one’s wealth as part 22
Norman Nicol, A Corpus of FƗܒimid Coins (Trieste: Giulio Bernardi, 2006), 36– 41. 23 Ibid., 110–31.
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of one’s ethical belief, rather than being an act of charity in the modern secular sense of the word, is a personal subjective ethical action. It derives from a person’s emotion and state of feelings, regardless what the cause and motive of that emotion may be. Second, it is a value-oriented action that aims to support and takes into account the state of life and social condition of the poor and needy in society. Thirdly, and in this respect it differs from modern secular charity very clearly, it also represents a conscious religious action that expresses a belief in personal and collective salvation. The QurގƗn makes the payment of zakƗt obligatory, but does not specify its exact amount and detail. It says: “Perform prayer and give alms and bow down with those who bow down”,24 but it does not specify the exact amount of zakƗt to be given. Existing Muslim practices in relation to zakƗt reveal that while they derive their notion of this religious ritual from the QurގƗn, they specify the exact amount of their alms in accordance with their tradition. The Sunni Muslims consider the correct amount to be 2.5 per cent of one’s wealth, whereas the Shia IthnƗ ޏAsharƯs consider it to be one-fifth (khums, in Arabic) and the Shia Ismailis consider it to be onetenth (‘ushur in Arabic, dah yak or dah yakah in Persian, and dasond in Gujarati). These variations demonstrate the existing diversity in the interpretations of the QurގƗn and that the ritual of alms-giving has evolved differently in different traditions over the course of history. This diversity in the interpretation and practice of alms-giving is another example which demonstrates change and diversity in religious rituals. It is important to note that these changes and differences do not contradict the ethical value of alms. Rather, different communities express their devotion to the ritual of zakƗt differently. The ethical values of alms comprise both spiritual and material causes and benefits. Classic Ismaili teaching articulates the ritual of alms as a comprehensive concept that leads to the purification of a person’s spiritual and material life. According to the Ismaili tradition, true purification of soul is not achievable by simply separating a specific amount of one’s wealth once a year. Rather it requires a moral and ethical discipline by which man ought to live every day. In his Wajh-e DƯn (The Face of Religion), the eleventh-century Ismaili dƗҵƯ, poet and philosopher of Khurasan (modern-day Afghanistan), Nasir Khusraw (d. 481/1088) stated: We shall say, with divine success, that there is a purification (pƗkizah shodan) for believers in giving alms (dƗdan-e zakat), and there is an increase (ziyƗdat) for a believer’s soul (nafs), because his purity of soul is 24
Q. 2:43.
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in his purity of body (jesm), and his purity of body is in his purity of food, and the purity of food is in the legitimation (ۊalƗl kardan) of wealth (mƗl), and the legitimation of wealth is in separating (bƯrnjn kardan) the share (ۊaq) of God Almighty, whose share shall be taken (sutnjdan) from people by His messenger and those (imƗms of the time) who have His command (farmƗn) to stand in his (the Prophet’s) place.25
Nasir Khusraw further elaborates the above statement by referring to and quoting a verse from snjrat al-Tawba (Repentance), in which God commands the prophet to “take alms (܈adaqa) out of their [the Muslims’] wealth to cleanse and purify them, and pray for them, your prayer is comforting mercy for them”.26 Although this QurގƗnic verse commands the Prophet to take alms out of the wealth of the Muslims and makes the payment of zakƗt obligatory upon all Muslims, it does not specify the exact amount. Since, in the Ismaili notion of authority, the imƗm of the time stands in the place of the Prophet, the imƗm has the authority to collect alms. Therefore, Ismailis around the world submit their alms to the imƗm of the time. This is why the Ismailis also refer to their alms as mƗl-e imƗm (the imƗm’s property). This means that once the Ismaili Muslims apportion their alms and intend to submit them to their imƗm of the time, the allotted alms become the imƗm’s property. This means that the alms are no longer the property of the person himself. The imƗm then spends the collected alms for the well-being of his followers around the world. As previously discussed, in the Ismaili tradition the imƗm of the time alone has the sole and absolute authority to interpret the QurގƗn and all matters of faith. In recent time, the present living Ismaili imƗm, the Aga Khan, has provided his communities with a new contemporary interpretation of alms in order to meet the needs of Ismaili communities around the world. Over the past decades, Ismaili communities, in addition to submitting their traditional zakƗt, have also been offering a special nadhrƗna (alms or offering, also written as nazrana) to the imƗm of the time, particularly on the occasion of his imƗmate day and/or birthday. As a recent example, Ismaili communities worldwide offered material nadhrƗnas to commemorate the Aga Khan’s Silver Jubilee (11 July 1983). The imƗm invested his followers’ nadhrƗnas in establishing charitable and educational institutions, such as the Aga Khan University in Karachi, Pakistan in 1983, and many other social and economic development projects in remote areas, such as the expansion of girls’ schools in the
25 26
Nasir Khusraw, Wajh-e DƯn (Tehran: KitƗb-khƗnah-e ৫ahnjrƯ, 1969), 176–77. Q. 9:103.
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Hunza region of Gilgit-Baltistan in Pakistan, and the Aga Khan Rural Support Programme in Gujarat, India. In his Golden Jubilee celebration, which lasted for over a year (11 July 2007–December 2008), the Aga Khan introduced a new dimension to the Ismaili interpretation of nadhrƗna. When the Ismaili communities approached the imƗm to offer him their material nadhrƗna, he responded with a new vision. He identified the building of professional human resources and capacities in the Ismaili institutions, including the Aga Khan Development Network, as an urgent priority. Accordingly, he instructed the Ismaili communities globally to offer a nadhrƗna of their time (waqt) and knowledge (dƗnish), which came to be known as the Time and Knowledge Nazrana (TKN) in English and NazrƗna-e Waqt wa-DƗnish in Persian-Dari. One of the primary ideas behind establishing the TKN framework was to create a platform for Ismaili professionals and volunteers to share their knowledge and expertise in order to benefit communities and the imƗmate and the AKDN institutions. On the importance of sharing time and knowledge, as an ethical principle of the Ismaili faith, the imƗm addressed his Ismaili community (jamƗҵat), saying: We are living in a knowledge society... in order for the Jamaގat to continue to make progress, it is essential that knowledge and the sharing of knowledge should become, more and more, part of the philosophy and the way in which the Jama’at works. And this is why I have said to my Jama’at on the occasion of the Golden Jubilee: share time and knowledge. Sharing time and knowledge across frontiers, between communities, between professionals, in business activities—this sharing of knowledge is immensely important for the decades ahead.27
Following the imƗm’s instruction, the TKN framework was established in order to provide a structured process for utilising the immense pool of knowledge and expertise available in the global Ismaili community.28 As officially articulated, the TKN represents an established Ismaili tradition on the one hand, and the global Ismaili unconditional gift and expression of love, devotion and thankfulness to their imƗm for unwaveringly supporting the development and well-being of both Ismaili and non-
27
Karim Aga Khan IV, Farman Mubarak of Mawlana Hazar Imam: Golden Jubilee Darbar—Paris, France, 11 December, 2008 (2008), (Unpublished), 4. 28 See, Time and Knowledge Nazrana (Institution), “Introduction,” accessed April 2015, https://www.timeandknowledge.org/introduction.
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Ismaili communities around the world on the other hand. The TKN official webpage states that: The TKN endeavour represents a combination of two cherished Ismaili traditions—offering one’s intellectual capacity to assist the ImƗmat’s efforts for the progress of the Jamat, and submitting to the ImƗm of the time an unconditional Nazrana (gift) in commemorating epochal events, as a gesture of love and homage.29
In recent years, the TKN endeavour has placed a wide range of services and skills, including the highly specialised expertise of thousands of volunteers, at the disposal of imƗmate, the AKDN and other Ismaili institutions. The TKN has practical implications. On the one hand, it improves the quality of the services and output of Ismaili institutions. On the other hand, it benefits the volunteers themselves. In addition to gaining spiritual satisfaction, the volunteers, as the TKN official webpage reports, also gain “valuable work-experience, leading to their own personal and professional growth, in some cases in international environments”.30 During his address to the Parliament of Canada on 27 February 2014, the Aga Khan made the following comment on the ethics of the TKN initiative: During my Golden Jubilee—and this is important—six years ago Ismailis from around the world volunteered their gifts, not only of wealth, but most notably of time and knowledge, in support of our work. We established a Time and Knowledge framework, a structured process for engaging an immense pool of expertise involving tens of thousands of volunteers.31
The TKN, which derives its ethical principles from the Islamic concept and ethics of almsgiving, reflects how the function of authority and rituals change in accordance with the need of the time. Over the past seven years, thousands of Ismailis voluntarily registered their name, skills and the duration of time for which they would voluntarily serve Ismaili institutions around the world. This particular form of alms-giving has helped Ismaili institutions to strengthen their capacities and to serve the Ismaili and non29
Ibid. See, ibid. 31 Karim Aga Khan IV, “Address of His Highness the Aga Khan to both Houses of the Parliament of Canada in the House of Commons Chamber, Ottawa, 27 February 2014,” accessed April 2015, http://www.akdn.org/Content/1253/Addressof-His-Highness-the-Aga-Khan-to-both-Houses-of-the-Parliament-of-Canada-inthe-House-of-Commons-Chamber-Ottawa. 30
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Ismaili communities around the world more effectively, particular during the years of economic recession. Although it is a temporary form of almsgiving, while Ismailis continue the ritual of zakƗt, it further strengthens the Islamic concept and ritual of almsgiving and the tradition of volunteering in the Ismaili community. The authority of the Ismaili imƗm of the time guarantees the validity of the TKN framework and programme, and the individual nadhƗrana actions of Ismaili volunteers, while the voluntary services of members of the Ismaili communities demonstrate their acceptance and obedience of the imƗm’s authority and instruction without resistance or hindrance. The TKN also reflects how religious authority can take a different form, without altering the core principle of authority and the ritual of almsgiving. In his study of The Plurality of SharƯҵah Interpretations and the ShƯҵa Ismailis of Afghanistan, this author analysed different dimensions of the Ismaili imƗm’s authority and his relationship with his followers. In addition to his traditional imƗm-murƯd relationship, which is based on a pure spiritual relationship between the imƗm and his followers, there is also the imƗm-institution-murƯd relationship framework in place.32 The latter represents a mediated authority, meaning that the imƗm communicates with his followers, and exercises his authority, through his institutions. In this form of authority, obedience to the institutions becomes as important as obedience to the imƗm himself. Although these institutions never fully represent nor replace the imƗm’s authority, the role and influence of institutions, such as the AKDN, the JamƗtƯ institutions, and the TKN framework, increasingly become important in the life of the Ismaili communities. The TKN represents the latest institution which embeds the imƗm’s authority in a very specific religious ritual, i.e., nadhrƗna of time and knowledge. Thus one could, at least on the basis of the Ismaili experience and within the Ismaili context, conclude that religious authority and rituals may take different forms in different moments of time, without altering the core principle of the authority and ritual concerned.
Conclusion This paper has underlined and demonstrated that authority and rituals are mutually connected and interdependent in a circular relationship. The former legitimises the latter, whereas the latter routinises and internalises the acceptance and obedience of the former. This pattern of interdependency 32 Yahia Baiza, The Plurality of Shariҵah Interpretations and the Shiҵa Ismailis of Afghanistan (London: The Institute of Ismaili Studies, 2014), 68–70.
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and circular relationship is also visible at the level of the relationship between the Divine and the Prophet, through whom it extends to the Ismaili imƗm of the time. In order to deliver His message to, and establish His authority over mankind, God appointed His Prophet to undertake this task for Him. He makes this happen by guaranteeing the legitimacy of His Prophet’s authority, which is witnessed by the gradual revelation of the QurގƗn over a two-decade period. At the same time, He governs this pattern of mutual relationship and interdependency by the rule of obedience, in which God commands and the Prophet complies with the divine order. While there is no room for disobedience, there is plenty of space for the Prophet to use his authority to explain, interpret and demonstrate the divine message by words and actions, the totality of which is known as the sunna (tradition). Despite the relationship of obedience and authority, the Prophet is not a passive bearer of divine commands. Rather he is a loyal and a trustworthy partner in the divine project. From the Ismaili perspective, the divine mission and project has not come to its end yet. The mission continues through the Ismaili imƗms of the time, who until the Day of Judgment, bear the responsibility of interpreting the QurގƗn and continuing the divine mission by way of leading and influencing the communities that acknowledge their authority. The Ismaili imƗms exercise their authority through influencing religious rituals, consensus, knowledge, and making decisions that are believed to be good for the community at a given moment in time. To conclude, this study has shown that authority and religious rituals are evolving concepts. They evolve over the course of history, and in relation and in response to other socio-historical events. They have been developed and have evolved over a long period of time, during which political, historical, theological and socio-economic factors and discourses have played decisive roles. These factors and discourses always emerged as a response or in relation to similar or other discourses in other communities, regardless of time and geographical space. For instance, a specific discourse may address a specific event within the same geographical space and chronological timeline, or may respond to an event or a discourse that took place a thousand years ago in a completely different cultural, geographical, political or socio-economic setting. Therefore, socio-political events have an enormous effect on the way each community develops its notion of authority and performs its religious rituals. This means that the concepts of authority and religious rituals do not represent a single historical event, nor a fixed and eternally unchanging concept. On the contrary, this study has shown that changes in understanding and interpretation of the notion of authority, and in the practices of religious rituals are inevitable. It has also
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demonstrated that authority and religious rituals do not represent fixed concepts and ideas in history; rather they are living social realities that influence the life of people and that do evolve over the course of history.
References Aga Khan IV, Karim. Farman Mubarak of Mawlana Hazar Imam: Golden Jubilee Darbar - Paris, France, 11 December, 2008. 2008. (Unpublished). —. “Address of His Highness the Aga Khan to both Houses of the Parliament of Canada in the House of Commons Chamber, Ottawa, 27 February 2014.” Accessed April 2015. http://www.akdn.org/Content/1253/Address-of-His-Highness-the-AgaKhan-to-both-Houses-of-the-Parliament-of-Canada-in-the-House-ofCommons-Chamber-Ottawa. Arjomand, S. Amir. Authority and Political Culture in Shi‘ism. New York: State University of New York Press, 1988. Baiza, Yahia. The Plurality of Shariҵah Interpretations and the Shi‘a Ismailis of Afghanistan. London: The Institute of Ismaili Studies, 2014. Barnard, Alan and Jonathan Spencer, eds. Encyclopedia of Social and Cultural Anthropology. London: Routledge, 2002. Daftary, Farhad. “Ismailis.” In Medieval Islamic Civilization: An Encyclopedia. Vol. 1. Edited by Josef W. Meri. 2 vols., 403-06. Abingdon: Routledge, 2006. Frischauer, Willi. The Aga Khans. London: The Bodley Head. Halm, Heinz. The Fatimids and their Traditions of Learning. London: I.B. Tauris. Ibn ণanbal, Aতmad. Musnad al-ImƗm Aۊmad ibn ۉanbal. Lahore: Maktaba-e Rehmania, 2011. Ibn MƗjah, M. ibn YazƯd. Sunan. Beirut: DƗr IতyƗ ގal-TurƗth al-ޏArabƯ, 1975. Jellinek, Georg. Allgemeine Staatslehre. 3rd ed. Berlin: O. Haering, 1914. Kreinath, Jens. “The Dynamics of Changing Rituals.” In The Dynamics of Changing Rituals: The Transformation of Religious Rituals within Their Social and Cultural Context. Edited by Jens Kreinath, Constance Hartung and Annette Deschner, 267–82. New York: Peter Lang, 2004. Kreinath, Jens, Constance Hartung, and Annette Deschner, eds. The Dynamics of Changing Rituals: The Transformation of Religious Rituals within Their Social and Cultural Context. New York: Peter Lang, 2004.
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KulaynƯ, Muতammad b. Yaގqnjb al-. al-KƗfƯ. Tehran: al-Maktaba alIslƗmiyya, 1977. Meri, Josef W., ed. Medieval Islamic Civilization: An Encyclopedia. 2 vols. Abingdon: Routledge, 2006. Muscati, Jawad. Life and Lectures of the Grand Missionary al-Muayyadfid-Din al-Shirazi. Karachi: The Agakhan Shia Imami Ismailia Association for Canada, 1950. Muslim. Al-JƗmi‘-us-܇aۊƯۊ. Lahore: Sh. Muতammad Ashraf, 1976; Trans. by Abdul Hamid Siddiqi. Nasir Khusraw. Wajh-e DƯn. Tehran: KitƗb-khƗnah-e ৫ahnjrƯ, 1969. Nicol, Norman. A Corpus of FƗܒimid Coins. Trieste: Giulio Bernardi, 2006. QƗঌƯ l-NuޏmƗn, Abnj ণanƯfa al-. DaҵƗҴim al-IslƗm. Beirut: DƗr al-AঌwƗގ, 1995. —. DaҵƗҴim al-IslƗm. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002. Sanders, Paula. “Claiming the past: GhadƯr Khumm and the Rise of ণƗfiƯ Historiography in Late FƗ৬imid Egypt.” Studia Islamica 75 (1992): 81– 104. ShirƗzƯ, al-Muގayyad fƯ-l-DƯn al-. Life and Lectures of the Grand Missionary Al-Muayyad-fid-Din Al-Shirazi. Edited by Jawad Muscati. Karachi: The Agakhan Shia Imami Ismailia Association for Canada, 1950. Time and Knowledge Nazrana (Institution). “Introduction.” Accessed April 2015. https://www.timeandknowledge.org/introduction. ৫njsƯ, NaৢƯr al-DƯn al-. Paradise of Submission: A Medieval Treatise on Ismaili Thought. London: I.B. Tauris, 2005; A New Persian Edition and English Translation of ৫njsƯ’s Rawঌa-yi taslƯm by S. Jalal Badakhchani. Veer, Peter van der. “Religion.” In Encyclopedia of Social and Cultural Anthropology. Edited by Alan Barnard and Jonathan Spencer, 726–33. London: Routledge, 2002. Weber, Max. Economy and Society: An Outline of Interpretive Sociology. Edited by Roth Guenther and Claus Wittich. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1978.
CHAPTER NINE PROPHETIC PHILOSOPHY AND THE RENEWAL OF ISLAMIC INTELLECTUALITY IN THE THOUGHT OF SEYYED HOSSEIN NASR RUGGERO VIMERCATI SANSEVERINO
There are few contemporary Islamic thinkers whose biography and thought reflect so deeply the crucial issues of contemporary Islam as does the life and thinking of the Iranian scholar and philosopher Seyyed Hossein Nasr (b. 1933). His academic education in the natural sciences and his scholarship in Islamic studies, his intense academic activity in the Persian, Arabic and Western worlds, his personal experience in both the Sunni and the Shiite intellectuality, in Islamic spirituality and philosophy as well as his personal engagement in interreligious dialogue, make him a noteworthy and controversial figure in contemporary Muslim scholarship. Likewise, his thought distinguishes itself from the ideas of other contemporary Islamic thinkers in its attempt to defuse the opposition between tradition and renewal, unity and diversity or historical reality and theological ideality in contemporary Islam with the help of the very resources of what he considers to be Islamic tradition.1 Nasr postulates the existence of an alternative way which enables Islam to escape the dilemma of having to choose between what he considers an uncritical imitation of the modern West and a succumbing to fundamentalism. This third way has to be nourished by what he identifies as the spiritual substance of Islam: The vitality of Islam, that is the very principle of its continuity and capacity for renewal throughout history, does reside for him neither in its theological teaching, nor in its cultural achievements or even its ethical 1
Nasr’s understanding and use of the terms tradition and Islamic tradition will be discussed below. However, it may already be noted that it differs considerably from the notion of tradition as is intended in the social sciences. The same applies to the terms of modern, progressism and fundamentalism.
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standards; what makes the uniqueness and strength of Islam as a world religion, is, according to him, the creative power of its spiritual tradition embodied principally in Sufism. Only if contemporary Islam is able to reconnect itself to its spiritual core, will it be able to cope with the challenges of modernity and globalisation. This is the background of Nasr’s considerations about the Islamic philosophical tradition which, following some medieval Muslim philosophers, he calls ۊikma, referring thereby to the notion of wisdom mentioned in the QurގƗn. Islamic philosophical thinking, especially the tradition which sought to harmonize discursive and mystical knowledge, has, according to him, an essential role to play in contemporary Islam: Deprived of its vital principle and of the intellectual tradition nourished by it, Muslim theological thinking seems incapable of responding to the anti-metaphysical thinking of modernity and instead either escapes into a hollow progressivism or withdraws into an aggressive and sterile formalism. Nasr argues that this fatal dilemma, reinforced by the dramatically problematic political, cultural and social situation of Muslim populations throughout the world, can only be solved by a renewal of Islamic intellectuality through the revivification of Islamic philosophical thinking. Despite the criticism it provoked from both academic and religious milieus, Nasr’s thought is indeed interesting from at least two points of view, namely his commitment to a critical reflection about contemporary Islamic thought and the potential role of falsafa2 or Islamic philosophy in this thought. Having both a personal experience of modern Western and of traditional Islamic culture, he is in a particularly interesting position from which to analyze the situation in modern Islam, while seeking to differentiate between modernity and modernism on the one hand, and tradition and fundamentalism on the other. Furthermore, he puts the 2
The term falsafa, the Arabic translation of the Greek term philosophia, denotes a very specific tradition of philosophical thinking in the Islamic world and is not to be taken as a synonym of philosophical thinking in its most general meaning. In fact, philosophical thinking in Islam is not limited to falsafa, but is very much present in other religious disciplines such as naۊw (grammar), kalƗm (dialectic theology), adab (cultural education), ta܈awwuf (Sufism) and u܈njl al-fiqh (juridical theory), especially in the Sunni world where falsafa eventually became absorbed by these disciplines. In the Persian world, the term falsafa gained a somewhat negative connotation in some milieus where it finally became substituted by the term ۊikma (wisdom). In order to avoid equivocation, we will use the term Nasr himself uses, namely Islamic philosophy, meaning thereby philosophy as it was practiced as an independent discipline in the context of Islamic learning. For a discussion of Nasr’s concept of Islamic philosophy and the problems it raises, see infra.
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question of spirituality at the core of any attempt at an Islamic renewal and criticises the various reformist projects by postulating their ideologising or rationalising of Islam. Despite the fact that Nasr emerges as significant intellectual figure in the contemporary Islamic world, anthologies about modern Muslim thinkers rarely include him.3 Nonetheless, his academic and intellectual standing has been recognised in various ways. For instance, he was the first Muslim and Middle Easterner to be given the honour of delivering the renowned Gifford Lectures in Edinburgh. Moreover, his thought has been the object of several books and studies, such as the twenty-eighth volume of the prestigious Library of Living Philosophers4 and The Essential Seyyed Hossein Nasr.5 He has exerted a direct influence upon scholars and thinkers in Iran, Turkey, Pakistan and the West, as well as upon intellectuals such as Ramin Jahanbegloo, Muzaffar Iqbal, William Chittick and Martin Lings. The challenge that Nasr attempts to face is the definition of Islam in the modern world, beginning from its own intellectual resources and with its own categories and rationality, while referring to concepts of various movements of traditionalist revival, and it is in these terms that he considers the current relevance of Islamic philosophy. We will now try to analyze more closely what makes Nasr’s thinking original and pertinent for contemporary Islamic theology and we will use in particular his later writings. For his biography, we refer mostly to an interview about his life and thought which was published under the title In Search of the Sacred (2010). For his vision of the history of philosophy in Islam and the concept of prophetic philosophy, we use his Islamic Philosophy from its Origin to the Present—Philosophy in the Land of Prophecy (2006) and for his reflections about contemporary Islam his Traditional Islam in the Modern World (1990).
3
However, there are exceptions like Massimo Campanini, Il pensiero islamico contemporaneo (Bologna: Il mulino, 2005); Jacques Waardenburg, Muslims as Actors: Islamic Meanings and Muslim Interpretations in the Perspective of the Study of Religions (New York: De Gruyter, 2007) and Hamid R. Yousefi, Einführung in die islamische Philosophie: Die Geschichte des Denkens von den Anfängen bis zur Gegenwart (Stuttgart: UTB, 2014). 4 Lewis E. Hahn, Randall E. Auxier and Lucian W. Stone, eds., The philosophy of Seyyed Hossein Nasr, The library of living philosophers 28 (Chicago, IL: Open Court, 2001). 5 Seyyed Hossein Nasr, The Essential Seyyed Hossein Nasr, ed. William C. Chittick (Bloomington, IN: World Wisdom, 2007).
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I. Life and works Born in 1933 in Tehran to an upper-class family, Seyyed Hossein Nasr received an intensive education in both French and Iranian culture, especially in Persian poetry. His father Seyyed Valiallah, a professor at Tehran University, was himself involved in the modernisation of the Iranian educational system during the Pahlavi era. As a result of his family background, the young Nasr was thoroughly acquainted with the literary elite of twentieth century Iran. At a very early age, he was able to listen to the most important Iranian scholars of his day. As was typical of the Middle Eastern upper classes involved in the process of modernisation, Nasr grew up in a household where the practice of religion was rather liberal.6 He describes in his biographical interview how modern technology was introduced into Iranian households during his childhood and the fascination it provoked. In fact, he was a direct witness of contact of the Islamic world with twentieth century Western modernity. Later in his life, he was also one of those who felt deceived by the promise of modern science to explain reality and to ensure the welfare of humanity. This experience undoubtedly influenced his later critical analysis of the impact of this phenomenon on traditional culture7.
1. Modern physics and the history of science When Nasr was thirteen, his father suffered a debilitating injury. The decision was made to send the boy to relatives in New York in 1945. The long trip to the USA was marked by the eerie atmosphere of the end of World War II. A new world order was about to be born and for Nasr, too, a new world was to be discovered. The skyscrapers of New York City, where he was to live for some time, gave him his first image of a Western lifestyle and of its contrast with the Persian culture in which he grew up.8 Indeed, Nasr seems to always have been very susceptible to the power of architecture. He sees it as a phenomenon that not only reflects the mentality and spiritual state of the people creating it, but also as profoundly influential in terms of daily life and how a society considers its
6
Seyyed Hossein Nasr and Ramin Jahanbegloo, In Search of the Sacred: A Conversation with Seyyed Hossein Nasr on his Life and Thought (Santa Barbara, CA: Praeger, 2010), 13. 7 Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Traditional Islam in the Modern World, 2nd ed. (New York, London: Kegan Paul International, 1990), 115–18. 8 Nasr and Jahanbegloo, In Search of the Sacred, 31.
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relationship with nature, existence and transcendence.9 This is why throughout his life he has been involved in numerous projects aimed at preserving traditional architecture and infrastructure, especially in Iran. After his arrival in the USA, Nasr entered the Peddie School (New Jersey) and was there graduated as valedictorian of the class of 1950. Due to his exceptional gifts in the natural sciences, he was admitted to the prestigious Massachusetts Institute of Technology (M.I.T.) to study physics. As he himself explains, at that time his ambition was to study the nature of things.10 He seems to have been a very successful student and was expected to be one of the most promising scientists of the next generation. But despite his success in his new environment, he was very ware of the problematic side of his situation, too. He recalls feeling in the years from 1946 to 1950 very isolated from his Persian background. He shared the experience of Muslims living in a non-Islamic environment and thus became well aware of the problems involved in preserving an Islamic identity in such an environment.11 On the other hand, this situation of cultural alienation also contained positive aspects for a curious mind like Nasr. During his school years in the USA he was required to attend church services regularly. This enabled him to have a direct experience of Christian practice and life, something unusual amongst Muslim scholars of that time. In later years, he was in close contact with important Protestant theologians such as Paul Tillich and John Hick, although his intellectual encounter with Christianity was rather with Catholic and Orthodox Christian writers.12 His interest in, and open-mindedness towards other religious traditions would indeed be one of the characteristic features of his intellectual commitment. As his numerous writings show, Nasr is not only a scholar of Islam, but also an important figure in the movement of comparative religious thought in the twentieth century.13 The Italian philosopher Giorgio De Santillana (d. 1974), an expert in the history of science and Western philosophy,14 introduced Nasr to a critical view of modern Western philosophy, “the anti-history of antiphilosophy in the West”.15 Nasr began to doubt his own dedication to 9
Nasr, Traditional Islam in the Modern World, 227–37. Ibid., 19. 11 Ibid., 32. 12 Ibid., 35. 13 Adnan Aslan, Religious pluralism in Christian and Islamic philosophy: The Thought of John Hick and Seyyed Hossein Nasr (Richmond: Curzon, 1998). 14 He is the author of The Origins of Scientific Thought: From Anaximander to Proclus; 600 B.C. to 300 A.D. (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1961). 15 Nasr and Jahanbegloo, In Search of the Sacred, 39. 10
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physics. He describes his decision to abandon a promising scientific career as the outcome of his own internal struggle against his sense of pride.16 Having listened to a lecture by Bertrand Russell (d. 1970) and his criticism of the ontological realism on which physics is based, Nasr turned his attention to the humanities. After his lecture at the M.I.T., Russell affirmed in a private meeting with students, who included Nasr himself, that modern physics is not an explanation of the nature of things, but a science that provides only mathematical structures which allow us to achieve certain results by experimentation. This meeting only strengthened Nasr’s conviction that physics could not provide the answers he was looking for. He describes this change as an existential crisis which deeply troubled him for a period of several months.17 In 1956, after receiving his Master’s degree in Geophysics, Nasr moved over to the history of science which he studied with authorities in this field. Intending to combine the study of Western science with the study of the Islamic philosophy of science, Nasr took courses on Islamic studies with Sir Hamilton Gibb who was also his doctoral adviser.18 As well as Gibb, he worked with important scholars in the field such as George Sarton, Harry Wolfson and Bernard Cohen. During this time, Nasr occupied himself with an intense study of Western medieval philosophy, especially the thought of Boethius (d. ca. 526), St. Augustine (d. 430), St. Thomas Aquinas (d. 1274) and St. Bonaventure (d. 1274), as well as the Renaissance Platonists. His study of modern philosophy was already marked by a highly critical approach, the exception being some German philosophers such as Schelling and in particular Leibniz whom he considered one of the rare serious meta-physicians in modern European thought.19 At the time in Harvard, Nasr was able to meet some of the most important intellectual figures of his day including the afore-mentioned Protestant theologian Paul Tillich. Nasr recalls having a long and interesting discussion with him on comparative religion and the ChristianIslamic dialogue, even if they did not agree with one another on certain points.20 It was during this period that, along with his PhD on Islamic cosmological doctrines, he wrote Science and Civilisation in Islam,21 and 16
Ibid., 40. Ibid., 40–41. 18 Ibid., 46–47. 19 Ibid., 56. 20 Ibid., 51–52. 21 Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Science and Civilization in Islam (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1968). 17
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Introduction to Islamic Cosmological Doctrines, which was published in 1964. In both works, Nasr explores the Islamic view of natural science and highlights its metaphysical foundation as well as its ethical scope. At the same time, he severely criticises those contemporary Muslim thinkers who, due to their fascination for Western empirical science and technology, adopt the modern ideology of progress. He tries to overcome what he considers to be a psychological inferiority complex by questioning in a very radical way the superiority of this progress from a spiritual and intellectual point of view. Nasr’s explanation for the technological, economic and military backwardness of the Islamic world differs therefore significantly from the usual explanations. Broadly speaking, fundamentalists tend to consider deviation from an essentialized true Islam to be the real cause of Western domination, whereas modernists hold the victory of dogmatism over rationalism in Islamic thought as being responsible for the current situation of the Islamic world. For Nasr, traditional Islamic science, cosmology and civilisation, such as has developed over centuries, essentially had the function of providing the intellectual and cultural infrastructure which promotes man’s transcendent possibilities. This is why, according to Nasr, Islamic science neglected all matters it considered irrelevant to the spiritual well-being of man. The West, losing sight gradually of this dimension of man, dedicated all its forces to the development of a materialistic and mechanistic science.
2. Rediscovering of tradition and criticism of modernism While in Harvard, it was Santillana who introduced Nasr to the works of the so-called traditionalist authors. The awareness that studying modern physics does not lead to an understanding of reality22 steered Nasr towards pre-modern conceptions of science and knowledge. As he studied Guénon's (d. 1951) Introduction to the study of the Hindu doctrines23 with Santillana, Nasr realised that the teachings of tradition were what he was looking for.24 He recalls overcoming his intellectual crisis by reading Guénon and other traditionalist authors, especially Ananda Coomaraswamy25 and Frithjof Schuon (d. 1998). The intellectual 22
Nasr and Jahanbegloo, In Search of the Sacred, 38. René Guénon, Introduction générale à l'étude des doctrines hindoues (Paris: M. Rivière, 1921). 24 Nasr and Jahanbegloo, In Search of the Sacred, 42. 25 Born in Sri Lanka, Ananda Kentish Coomaraswamy (d. 1949) was a philosopher of art and religion, especially regarding Hinduism and Buddhism. See Ananda K. Coomaraswamy, The essential Ananda K. Coomaraswamy, ed. Rama P. 23
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movement usually designated as traditionalist had been initiated by the French intellectual René Guénon, also known as Shaykh ޏAbd al-WƗতid YaতyƗ. In his numerous writings, which have been translated into more than twenty languages, Guénon seeks to expose in a language comprehensible to the modern West the traditional teachings that according to him underpin any authentic religious and spiritual tradition. In Guénon’s view, the West forgot this teaching after the rise of rationalism and humanism after the Middle Ages. Thus, he developed an acute criticism of modernism, especially the various forms of rationalist, materialist, progressist and anti-metaphysical thinking. Moreover, Guénon denounces any form of syncretism, occultism and neo-esoterism as well as any pretension to spirituality outside the scope of regular orthodoxy. His writings and his personal correspondence had an important influence amongst European intellectuals who were critical of modernism and who were in search of spirituality in the world religions. The Swiss writer, Frithjof Schuon, was one of Guénon’s most influential followers and was himself a very productive author.26 Like Guénon, Schuon converted to Islam and adopted Sufism. Through these authors, Nasr finally discovered a worldview about which he felt complete certitude. The way he describes this experience says much about the role of his Islamic background and his outsider years in the USA: “I began to be myself again.”27 His own narrative of his spiritual upheaval recalls the famous crisis which led the great Sunni scholar and mystic al-GhazƗlƯ (d. 505/1111) to abandon his prestigious position at the Nishapur madrasa in order to devote himself to a spiritual search. Like al-GhazƗlƯ, Nasr suffered an existential shock when he realised that experimental observance of natural phenomena does not provide any certainty about the nature of reality. And like the medieval Muslim scholar, Nasr hesitated before leaving a promising academic position to find certainty in the spiritual epistemology of Sufism. By 1958, Nasr had met Schuon and Titus Burckhardt (d. 1984), a specialist of sacred art and Islamic spirituality,28 and had been initiated into an Algerian Coomaraswamy, The perennial philosophy series (Bloomington, IN: World Wisdom, 2004). 26 Nasr himself edited Frithjof Schuon, The Essential Frithjof Schuon: The writings of Frithjof Schuon, ed. Seyyed Hossein Nasr (Bloomington, IN: World Wisdom, 2005). See also Harry Oldmeadow, Frithjof Schuon and the perennial philosophy, The perennial philosophy series (Bloomington, IN: World Wisdom, 2010). 27 Nasr and Jahanbegloo, In Search of the Sacred, 43. 28 See in particular Titus Burkhardt, Sacred Art in East and West: Its Principles and Methods (London: Perennial Books, 1967).
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branch of the ShƗdhilƯ Sufi Order founded by Shaykh Aতmad al-ޏAlawƯ (d. 1932). The latter is considered a renewer of Sunni Sufism in the twentieth century and had several disciples amongst European intellectuals29 besides his numerous disciples in North Africa and the Arab Middle East where the Order has a significant presence up to this day.30 The discovery of traditionalism went in tandem with a critical attitude towards modernism which Nasr himself defines thus: “For us, ‘modern’ means that which is cut off from the transcendent, from the immutable principles that in reality govern all things and that are made known to man through revelation in its most universal sense and also through the Intellect […].”31 Nasr distinguishes further between modernism as “a particular way of looking at the world” which is the “very negation of a traditional religious worldview”, and modernity which is simply a historical period or the fact of something being new and innovative.32 Guénon’s criticism of the modern West seemed to Nasr to be a clear confirmation of his personal experiences of modernism, especially its political aspect in the form of European, American and Russian imperialism of which he became aware as a boy. He recalls having being brought up in suspicion of the Russians and the British, the two colonial powers that dominated Iran in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. During a short stay in Cairo when still a boy he witnessed the contradictions of King Farouk, trapped between a Western form of modernity and lifestyle on the one hand, and Egyptian cultural and religious identity on the other.33 It was after his spiritual crisis that these earlier experiences seemed to Nasr to reveal their true meaning. The very idea of progress appeared to be questionable: “What are the principles by which change in society should
29
See Martin Lings, A Moslem Saint of the Twentieth Century: Shaikh Ahmad alұAlawƯ, his Spiritual Heritage and Legacy, Ethical and religious classics of East and West 23 (London: Allen & Unwin, 1961). Martin Lings (d. 2005) was a disciple of F. Schuon who occupied the function of representative of the Order in Europe. Lings is known in particular for his biography of the Prophet Muতammad (Martin Lings, Muhammad: His Life Based on the Earliest Sources (New York: Inner Traditions International, 1983)). 30 Itzchak Weismann, “The Shâdhiliyya-Darqâwiyya in the Arab East,” in Une voie soufie dans le monde: La Shâdhiliyya, ed. Geoffroy Éric (Paris: Maisonneuve et Larose, 2005). 31 Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Islamic Philosophy from its Origin to the Present: Philosophy in the Land of Prophecy (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2006), 260. 32 Nasr and Jahanbegloo, In Search of the Sacred, 209–10. 33 Ibid., 25 and 29.
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take place?”34 Consequently, he criticises in particular the claim that religion should necessarily accommodate itself to the worldview of modernism in order to respond to the requirements of a form of progress defined on purely materialistic and secular terms.
3. Islamic philosophy and Persian culture: Academic responsibilities in Iran In 1958, Nasr was finally able to to return to Iran, which for him represented a return to tradition. At Tehran University he found a position as an associate professor of philosophy and the history of science. He seemed to face serious difficulties due to his traditionalist orientation and the strong influence of French positivism on Iranian academia at the time.35 Still a young man, Nasr struggled very hard against the intellectual establishment in order to introduce Islamic and Oriental philosophy into the university curriculum. Nevertheless, due to his mastery of European languages and thought, though only 30 years old, he became the youngest academic to hold a chair at Tehran University, and five years later, the youngest dean of a faculty.36 Nasr was able to exercise a great deal of influence on the intellectual and cultural life of the country. He became a member of the national councils concerned with culture and education. As he says of himself, his aim was “to make Iranian society more aware of its own heritage [and] to create a bridge between [its] traditional and the modern elements”.37 Several Iranian students who later became important intellectuals attended Nasr’s courses on philosophy at that time. But there were also a number of foreign students who today are major scholars in Islamic Studies, notably William Chittick, Jean During and Sachiko Murata.38 Nasr actively avoided political appointments, such as that of minister of state, in order to stay in the domain of academic research. He recalls his father’s experiences and his boyhood admiration for Gandhi as being decisive factors in his attitude towards politics.39 In Iran, Nasr attended the oral teaching of traditional masters. He experienced this as a confirmation of everything he had read before in the 34
Ibid., 212. For a general overview of the modernization debate amongst intellectuals in Iran, see Maryam Shamsaei, “Iranian Religious Intellectuals and the Modernization Debate,” Journal of Humanities and Social Science 1 (2012). 36 Nasr and Jahanbegloo, In Search of the Sacred, 61–68. 37 Ibid., 68. 38 Ibid., 69. 39 Ibid., 22–24. 35
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books of authors like Guénon. Moreover, it was a confirmation of Henry Corbin’s thesis that philosophy in Islam did not die out with Ibn Rushd (d. 595/1198), but that it is still a living reality in the Oriental regions of the Islamic world.40 The French Orientalist and philosopher Henry Corbin41 (d. 1978) had revolutionised the study of medieval Islamic philosophy by refuting the widespread opinion of Western orientalists that philosophy ended with Ibn Rushd’s reply to al-GhazƗlƯ’s attack against falsafa, that is, the Peripatetic philosophy of al-FƗrƗbƯ (d. 339/950) and Ibn SƯnƗ (d. 427/1037). The implicit thesis as expressed in a famous speech by the French intellectual Ernest Renan (d. 1892) at the Sorbonne in 1883 was that the alleged conservatism and primitivism of Islam prevented philosophy from flourishing under Muslim dominion in the way that it did in the Western world.42 As Corbin has shown, this judgement is false for many reasons, the most obvious one being that philosophy continued to flourish and to develop in the Persian world, reaching a unique degree of complexity and creativity. Actually, according to Corbin, it was only after al-GhazƗlƯ’s criticism that falsafa emancipated itself from its Greek model. This was the very reason why it was so ignored by Western orientalism. For Nasr, Corbin’s most important achievement was to draw the attention of Western scholarship “to the philosophical significance of Islamic philosophy on its own terms”. The resistance he was confronted with was, according to Nasr, due to the fact that taking post-Averroesian Islamic philosophy seriously would mean challenging the Western view of the history of philosophy which he qualifies as Eurocentric.43 Although Nasr greatly admired the academic activity of Corbin, he disagreed with him on some matters, in particular the question of orthodoxy. As a Catholic who had converted to Protestantism as a result of some negative experiences with ecclesiastical authorities, Corbin dismissed any idea of orthodoxy and hermeneutic authority.44 40
Ibid., 80. Nasr wrote a short biography of Corbin. See the chapter “Henri Corbin: The Life and Works of the Occidental Exile in Quest of the Orient of Light” in Nasr, Traditional Islam in the Modern World, 273–91. 42 In fact, the idea that Ibn Rushd was the last great philosopher of Islam, and well as that of the rationalistic interpretation of Andalusian philosophy, goes back to Ernest Renan, too (see Ernest Renan, Averroës et l’averroïsme: Essai Historique (Paris: Durand, 1852)). His views about the decline of “progress” and philosophy in Islam had a profound influence upon Islamic reformism and modernism, especially on the ideas of JamƗl al-DƯn al-AfghƗnƯ (d. 1897) who produced a response to Renan’s speech at the Sorbonne. 43 Nasr and Jahanbegloo, In Search of the Sacred, 100–101. 44 Ibid., 93. 41
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From 1958 up to the eve of the Iranian Revolution in 1978, Nasr attended the classes of Muতammad ণusayn ৫abƗ৬abƗގƯ45 (d. 1981), whom he considers a “rejuvenator of Islamic philosophy” comparing him to the French Neo-Thomist Etienne Gilson,46 and Nasr’s studies with him included the writings of MullƗ ৡadrƗ (d. 979/1571–72). Nasr recalls how the circle that formed around the Iranian scholar, and in which H. Corbin participated for a certain time, discussed matters of comparative philosophy, including traditional Taoist and Hindu metaphysics. He termed this traditional teaching as one of his most “unique experience[s]”.47 As he himself says, from the dialogue between ৫abƗ৬abƗގƯ and Corbin he learned how to “bring back to life our own philosophical tradition” by conceptualising and formulating it “in a contemporary language” and by rendering it able “to face issues that challenge it from outside”.48 One of the other traditional teachers that Nasr mentions is Ayatollah Sayyid Abnj l-ণasan RafƯޏƯ l-QazwƯnƯ (d. 1976), a known Shiite authority on jurisprudence and philosophy who was also one of the teachers of KhumaynƯ (d. 1989).49 Nasr’s study of philosophy and religious sciences in a Shiite context raises the question of the relationship between his engagement with Shia Islam and Sunnism. Nasr grew up in a Shiite environment and there he received his first religious education, as well as his later training in Islamic philosophy and metaphysics. Besides his personal Shiite family background and education, one of Nasr’s specialties as a scholar of Islamic Studies is that of Shiism.50 At the same time, Nasr became initiated into Sunni Sufism through his contacts with the traditionalist movement. So, it 45
He is considered one of the major figures of contemporary Shiiite thought and learning, especially in the fields of exegesis, philosophy and mysticism. Moreover, he was a very productive author. His works include the U܈njl-i falsafeh va raveshe-realism (The Principles of Philosophy and the Method of Realism) published in five volumes, and a highly considered commentary on MullƗ ৡadrƗ’s magnum opus, al-AsfƗr al-arbaҵa. See Hamid Algar, “ޏAllƗma Sayyid Muতammad ণusayn ৫abƗ৬abƗގƯ: Philosopher, Exegete, and Gnostic,” Journal of Islamic Studies 17, no. 3 (2006). 46 The famous historian of medieval Latin philosophy established the idea of a form of Christian philosophy and was one of the main figures in the revival of the teaching of St Thomas Aquinas in the twentieth century (see Étienne Gilson, Christianisme et philosophie (Paris: J. Vrin, 1949)). 47 Nasr and Jahanbegloo, In Search of the Sacred, 83. 48 Ibid., 108–09. 49 Ibid., 89. 50 Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Hamid Dabashi and Seyyed Vali Reza Nasr, eds., Shiҵism: Doctrines, Thought, and Spirituality (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1988).
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is only consistent that for him Islamic orthodoxy includes both Shiism and Sunnism. However, this view is not only due to the circumstances of his personal development, but is also a consequence of his conception of traditional Islam. At the same time, he sees in the cultural history and psychology of the Persian people an explanation for the emergence of Shiism. This form of Islam, with its emphasis on ۊuzn (melancholy) is a response, according to him, to a characteristic feature of the Persian mentality.51 In short, he sees Sunnism and Shiism as expressions of the diversity engendered by the fundamental unity of Islam in various cultural and historical contexts. Nasr’s time in Iran was a very productive period during which he wrote various books in English, including his famous Man and Nature— The Spiritual Crisis of Modern Man. This work, based on his Rockefeller Lecture in 1966 at the University of Chicago, argues that the environmental crisis is in fact the consequence of modern man’s loss of a spiritual relationship with nature such as is encouraged in the traditional teachings of the world religions. Nasr tries to retrace the emergence of this fatal loss in the history of modern natural science and the mechanistic conception of nature it is based on. In fact, pollution and the devastation of natural environments are for him a reflection of the spiritual state of contemporary humanity. This is why purely ecological engagements alone will not suffice to overcome the environmental crisis; only a restoration of a spiritual vision of nature through the renewal of traditional cosmological doctrines will enable mankind to avoid self-destruction. One of his most widely read books, Ideas and Realities of Islam, is from this period too. Based on lectures which he delivered at the American University in Beirut as the first Aga Khan Professor of Islamic studies in 1964-65, the book tries to disclose the intrinsic harmony between the different polarities of Islam, such as unity and diversity, normativity and spirituality, theory and practice or theology and philosophy. Other wellknown writings of this period covering subjects such as Islamic philosophy, Sufism and traditionalist issues include Three Muslim Sages,52
51
Nasr and Jahanbegloo, In Search of the Sacred, 149–52. Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Three Muslim Sages: Avicenna, SuhrawardƯ, Ibn ҵArabƯ (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1964). 52
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Sufi Essays,53 Islam and the Plight of Modern Man54 and ܇adr al-DƯn ShƯrƗzƯ and his Transcendent Theosophy .55 Besides writing books about Islamic philosophy and general issues such as spirituality, the modern world and comparative religion, Nasr is equally engaged in scholarly research. Amongst other things, he is responsible for the critical edition of the Persian works of major Muslim philosophers such as Ibn SƯnƗ and MullƗ ৡadrƗ. Nasr’s commitment to restoring Islamic intellectual life was already highly visible at this period. All his academic activities, whether his historical research or his philosophical writings, clearly aim at rendering traditional teachings accessible to a modern audience. But this traditionalist commitment did not remain confined to the purely intellectual domain. After he had declined ministerial or diplomatic posts several times, in 1978 the Empress Farah Pahlavi (b. 1938), who knew his commitment to the preservation of Persian culture and who had supported many of Nasr’s projects, asked Nasr to become the head of her Special Bureau. Before this engagement, Nasr had acted as a trusted link between the court and the traditional Shii scholars, especially because he was regarded by both sides as politically disinterested. Some intellectuals, such as Abdolkarim Soroush,56 criticised Nasr severely for his closeness to the court, especially in view of the anti-Islamic tendencies of the Pahlavi-regime. Nasr’s plan, as he himself describes it, was to contribute to an atmosphere which permitted the return of KhumaynƯ and a mutual compromise between the ulamƗҴ and the court. This political engagement was viewed very negatively by the revolutionaries and as a consequence Nasr had to leave the country, losing everything he owned.57
53
Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Sufi Essays (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1973). 54 Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Islam and the Plight of Modern Man. London (London, New York: Longman, 1975); Nasr, Three Muslim Sages. 55 Seyyed Hossein Nasr, ܇adr al-DƯn ShƯrƗzƯ and his Transcendent Theosophy: Background, Life and Works (Tehran: Imperial Iranian Academy of Philosophy, 1978). 56 Soroush, occasionally called “the Luther of Islam” for his reform programme, had studied the philosophy of science with a pupil of Karl Popper and had read Guénon. In Iran he became attracted to Nasr, but soon turned away from him and became a follower of the liberation theology of Shariati (d. 1977). On Soroush’s criticism of traditionalism, see Ali A. Seyyedabadi and Soroush Abdulkarim, “The Muddled Dream of Returning to Tradition: An Interview with Abdulkarim Soroush,” accessed August 2014, http://www.drsoroush.com/English/Interviews/EINT-The%20Muddled%20Dream%20of%20Returning%20to%20Tradition.html. 57 Nasr and Jahanbegloo, In Search of the Sacred, 128–31.
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4. Professor of Islamic Studies—back in the USA Having to start a new life, Nasr and his family faced a very difficult financial situation until he finally succeeded in establishing himself as a professor of Islamic studies in the United States.58 He was able to pursue his academic activity at Temple University in Philadelphia and was invited in 1981 to give a Gifford Lecture in Edinburgh. The title of the lecture he gave was Knowledge and the Sacred, and the text was published in 1989. Nasr himself considers this work one of his most important academic achievements. Indeed, the work addresses issues which are at the core of his thinking: Beginning with an analysis of the desacralisation of knowledge as a consequence of modernism, Nasr develops the concept of sacred science which, being based on the view that nature is essentially a theophany, pursues a soteriological and spiritual aim. In order to illustrate his argument, he draws many examples from the great religions and premodern cultures. The work combines the philosophy of religion with epistemology, metaphysics, cosmology, the history of cultures and the history of science. In 1982, Nasr worked on the the Encyclopedia of World Spirituality together with Ewert Cousins, professor of Medieval philosophy at Fordham University. In the section on Islamic spirituality, published in two volumes, Nasr invited several traditionalist personalities to contribute entries on various topics. In 1984, Nasr was made a professor at Washington University, a position he still holds today. This position has allowed him to dedicate himself to teaching, writing and holding lectures all over the world.59 Besides his numerous writings, conferences and academic projects, Nasr was greatly involved in interfaith dialogue, attending the famous 1993 Parliament of World Religions and meeting important personalities in this field like the Catholic theologian Hans Küng and the Rabbi Izmar Schorch. He was further involved in institutional initiatives like the founding of the Center for MuslimChristian Understanding at Georgetown University in Washington, DC. However, at the heart of his activity stands his traditionalist commitment. In 1984, he initiated a foundation for Traditional Studies, intended to support the spread of the ideas of traditional teachings as formulated by René Guénon, Ananda Coomaraswamy, Frithjof Schuon, Titus Burckhardt
58
On Nasr’s role for the academic study of Sufism in America, see Marcia Hermansen, “The Academic Study of Sufism at American Universities,” American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 24, no. 3 (2007): 34–36. 61 Nasr and Jahanbegloo, In Search of the Sacred, 138–40.
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and others. It is this foundation that published his biographical interview In Search of the Sacred.
II. Prophetic philosophy and the revivification of Islamic intellectuality As Nasr’s biography shows, he holds that a meaningful contemporary Islamic theology cannot exist without the involvement of the Islamic philosophical tradition. His engagement as a Muslim scholar seems indeed most creative and significant in this domain. Philosophy, or al-ۊikma as he likes to call it, happens to be the point of convergence for his commitment to Sunni Sufism and to Shiism, to Islamic education and to the Muslim natural sciences and arts. Likewise, Nasr’s criticism of modernism and his plea for tradition find their concrete application in his deliberations on Islamic philosophy. Finally, it is in this domain that his personal cultural background finds its clearest expression. For all these reasons, we will devote the analysis of Nasr’s thought to his view of Islamic philosophy and the role that he assigns to it regarding contemporary Islamic thought, that is, Islamic theology in the widest sense of the term. Nasr’s most signicant contributions to the study of Muslim philosophy include the two volumes on The History of Islamic Philosophy which he edited in 1986 with Henri Corbin and in 1996 with Oliver Leaman respectively. These volumes constitute, he believes, the first works in a Western language in which the history of Islamic philosophy “is seen from the point of view of the tradition of Islamic philosophy itself, and not from the Western way of looking at Islamic philosophy”.60 The philosophical tradition in Islam is thus essentially a philosophy determined by the prophetic fact; it is therefore a prophetic philosophy,61 hence the subtitle of Nasr’s historical and systematic overview of the history of philosophy, Philosophy in the Land of Prophecy. The term prophetic philosophy is in fact borrowed from Henry Corbin62 for whom it implied the Shii doctrine of walƗya.63 For Nasr, however, the term prophetic philosophy denotes the very essential characteristic of Muslim philosophy and the reason why it has to be considered an Islamic philosophy in the literal meaning of the term. This prophetic quality is precisely what distinguishes it from other 62
Ibid., 220. Nasr, Islamic Philosophy from its Origin to the Present. 64 Henry Corbin, Histoire de la philosophie islamique (Paris: Gallimard, 1986). 65 Daryush Shayegan, Henry Corbin: Penseur de l'islam spirituel (Paris: Albin Michel, 2011). 63
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philosophical traditions, such as, for example, Christian philosophy which is based on the concept of divine incarnation.64
1. Philosophy in Islam or Islamic philosophy? The question of how to qualify the tradition of philosophical thinking, which emerged and developed in countries where Islam was the dominant religion, has given rise to one of the principal debates amongst contemporary academic experts of the field. Recent scholarship argues that a history of falsafa cannot anymore be written with an essentialist and culturalist understanding of the concept of philosophy. In other words, falsafa is not determined by a supposed Islamic quality, but either by its linguistic expression as Arabic philosophy, or by its historical and cultural context as a philosophy which emerged and evolved in the Islamic world. As for Nasr, he argues that this problem of definition is actually a question of research interest and of the point of view one wishes to take: if one wishes to study every kind of philosophical thinking that was practiced in the Islamic world, that is, including that of Christian and Jewish philosophers as well, one has to the speak of philosophy in the Islamic world. But if one is interested in the Islamic elements of this philosophical activity, it is not inconvenient to call it Islamic philosophy. With regard to the concept of Arabic philosophy, this implies that the philosophy developed by Muslims is no more than a continuation of Greek philosophy in medieval Arabic culture. Furthermore, it throws up the problem of excluding the Persian works of major philosophers such as Ibn SƯnƗ or SuhrawardƯ. Nasr insists that it is necessary to distinguish between Islam as religion and Islam as a civilisation or culture: To discuss Islam in the present-day Islamic world means already to distinguish between Islam as a religious and spiritual reality and the manifestation of this reality in a particular social order or historic context. Such a distinction, although not even accepted by many modern interpreters and students of religion, lies at the heart of the traditional perspective, which always distinguishes between levels of reality and also between the archetype in relation to its spatial-temporal manifestations. From that point of view, it is therefore not only possible to make such a distinction but even necessary to do so in order not to confuse everything that is called Islamic by this or that group with traditional Islam as it has manifested itself over the centuries in accordance with the essential reality
66
Nasr, Islamic Philosophy from its Origin to the Present, 7–8.
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of Islam, and which has also displayed various modes of development but always within the possibilities inherent in that reality.65
This quotation demonstrates comprehensively a conception of Islam which distinguishes Nasr from the main tendency in contemporary Islamic Studies in which the religion of Islam is essentially a cultural and social phenomenon which cannot be abstracted from history. Whereas in today’s post-modern scholarship the essentialist concept of an Islamic philosophy is considered with suspicion, Nasr holds that the principles and interrogations of falsafa, ishrƗq and ۊikma are derived from or at least inspired by the Islamic revelation. The QurގƗn and the ۊadƯth are the definite reference points of the most influential tendencies of this philosophy which is, in fact, a hermeneutics of the prophetic revelation the method of which is taken from ancient Greek philosophy. The prophetic element implies basically the idea of divine revelation received and transmitted by a providential figure. The latter, although representing human perfection at its peak, is not by any means a divine being and is in fact totally dependent on God. Prophetic philosophy, therefore, on the one hand safeguards God’s absolute transcendence and unity, as expressed by the concept of tawۊƯd, and on the other, regards the prophet, and the fact of divine revelation which he embodies, as the ultimate and authoritative criterion of truth.66 Accordingly, the perfection of man lies in his assimilation of the prophetic being by receiving—through the actualisation of his intellect—divine knowledge from God. This last point in particular, i.e. the acceptance of the prophetic authority and exemplarity, marks the dividing line between the philosophy that Nasr qualifies as authentically Islamic and the rest. This is why certain figures of the history of falsafa, such as Abnj Bakr al-RƗzƯ (d. 313/925) who rejected the need for prophecy, and Muতammad al-WarrƗq (fl. 3th/9th century), remain as far as he is concerned marginal; they are in fact independent of the reality of prophecy taking thus a position which separates them from prophetic philosophy. Nasr adds that most of al-WarrƗq’s and al-RƗzƯ’s works have been lost, which leads him to conclude that “this means that this kind of thought could not flourish in the climate where prophecy remained a central reality”.67 Nasr is well aware that this prophetic philosophy did not exist all at once; in fact, he explains it as a dynamic process which traversed several stages of development in different historical and cultural contexts. 65
Nasr, Traditional Islam in the Modern World, 75. Nasr, Islamic Philosophy from its Origin to the Present, 5–6. 67 Ibid., 143–45. 66
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Accordingly, Nasr distinguishes between three principal traditions of Islamic philosophy, corresponding respectively to three specific epistemologies: the Peripatetic (mashshƗҴƯ), the illuminationist (ishrƗqƯ) and the tradition of transcendent theosophy (al-ۊikma al-ilƗhiyya).68 In each tradition, certain specific aspects of prophetic philosophy were developed. Therefore, the Peripatetic tradition and its Aristotelian outlook, far from exhausting the activity of philosophy in Islam, is only a preparatory and necessary stage in the gradual development and formation of the prophetic philosophy. As Nasr emphasis frequently, the historical climax of this process was reached with the transcendental theosophy of the Safavid philosopher and theologian MullƗ ৡadrƗ l-ShirƗzƯ on whom Nasr has written a monograph.69 What leads Nasr to such a statement is most probably the fact that MullƗ ৡadrƗ created a very sophisticated synthesis of various schools of thought and their major representatives, such as Ashޏarite theology, Sunni Sufism and al-GhazƗlƯ, Sufi metaphysics and Ibn alޏArabƯ, Peripatetic philosophy and Ibn SƯnƗ, illuminationist philosophy and SuhrawardƯ, various Shiiite theologians and the members of the socalled School of Isfahan. It should also be mentioned that Nasr integrates into his vision of the history of Islamic philosophy the various historical controversies that set theologians and Sufis in opposition to philosophers. For Nasr, these controversies do not indicate the incompatibility of falsafa with Islam and he offers various arguments in order to undermine this idea of incompatibility. One of these consists in distinguishing between various dimensions of the Islamic tradition: Philosophy does not contradict theology, jurisprudence or Sufism, simply because it is concerned with a different domain of Islamic thought and consequently has a different scope; accordingly, the historical tension between the various disciplines are to be considered as the debates which naturally accompanied the process of determining the borderlines between the different domains of the Islamic intellectual disciplines.70 Indeed, far from occupying a marginal space, Islamic philosophy has played an indispensable role in the history of Islam: In conclusion and in summary it can be said that falsafa in Islam satisfied a certain need for causality that exists everywhere among certain human types, provided the necessary logical and rational tools for the cultivation and development of many of the arts and sciences, enabled Muslims to 68
Ibid., 97. Ibid. 70 Ibid., 38–41. 69
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encounter and assimilate the learning of many other cultures, in its reactions with kalƗm left a deep effect upon the latter’s future course, and finally became wed to illumination and gnosis, thus creating a bridge between the rigor of logic and the ecstasy of spiritual union, while influencing in some cases the expression of gnostic teachings themselves.71
2. The sapiential nature of Islamic philosophy The prophetic philosophy outlined above corresponds according to Nasr to the wisdom, ۊikma, mentioned in the QurގƗn as being complementary to al-kitƗb, i.e. the revealed scripture.72 In Islamic thought, the question of how to understand the meaning of this wisdom complementary to the divine book has been the object of a significant debate: which discipline has the authority to establish how the divine revelation has to be understood and concretely applied? It is well known that for the famous jurist al-ShƗfiޏƯ (d. 204/820), ۊikma means essentially the sunna, that is, the normative model of the Prophet Muতammad while for a theologian like Fakhr al-DƯn al-RƗzƯ (d. 606/1210), ۊikma means kalƗm, i.e. rational theology. As Nasr points out, the various adherents of falsafa interpreted it quite naturally to mean their own discipline.73 However, this identification of philosophy with the QurގƗnic ۊikma has significant implications about how the philosophers themselves conceived of their activity. Nasr argues that it means principally that Islamic philosophy is a sapiential tradition, which combines philosophical activity with a spiritual practice: Henceforth in the Islamic world, wherever philosophy survived, it was seen as lived wisdom. The philosopher or ۊakƯm was expected to be not only a person possessing cerebral knowledge, but a saintly person transformed by his knowledge. Philosophy as a mental activity divorced from spiritual realization and the inner life became marginalized as a legitimate intellectual category, and Islamic philosophy became henceforth what sophia always has been in Oriental traditions, namely, a wisdom lived and experienced as well as thought and reasoned.74
In arguing for the sapiential nature of Islamic philosophy, it is worth reiterating that Nasr is far from being alone. As both the renowned French 71
Ibid., 46. “[…] And God revealed to you the scripture and wisdom and He taught you what you did not know, and God’s favor upon you is truly immense.” QurގƗn 4:113. 73 Ibid., 35–38. 74 Ibid., 160. 72
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specialist in Greek philosophy Pierre Hadot75 and the scholar of Islamic philosophy Christian Jambet76 argue, as far the philosophers themselves were concerned, their work was inconceivable without a practical dimension which included a certain kind of conduct—a way of life founded on and aiming at wisdom. However, for Nasr the sapiential nature of Islamic philosophy has a much wider scope than this mere practical and spiritual component. Being a sapiential form of knowledge implies for Nasr a continuity with preIslamic, and in fact, primordial traditions of spiritual knowledge. He identifies SuhrawardƯ, who ascribes the origin of his ۊikma to figures such as Hermes, as the mystical figure who reconnected Islamic philosophy to its primordial source: “SuhrawardƯ established a new and at the same time primordial intellectual dimension in Islam, which became a permanent aspect of the Islamic intellectual science and survives to this day.”77 Here, the traditionalist notion of primordial religion expounded by René Guénon and adopted by Nasr,78 and at the same time transposed by him79 into the notion of philosophia perennis or perennial philosophy,80 seems to correspond to Nasr’s concept of prophetic philosophy. In his view, it is the very sapiential character of Islamic philosophy which enables it to expound and translate the universal aspects of Islam in a transculturally communicable manner.
3. The meaning of ҵaql (intellect) One of the central issues that Nasr treats regularly in his writings is the meaning of the Arabic term ҵaql used by the Muslim philosophers to denote the cognitive faculty of man.81 Does it denote reason or intellect, that is, a rational or a transcendental capacity of knowledge, or both? This question is very significant because the response to it determines how one 75 See Sajjad H. Rizvi, “Philosophy as a way of life in the world of Islam: Applying Hadot to the study of MullƗ ৡadrƗ ShƯrƗzƯ (d. 1635),” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 75, no. 1 (2012). 76 Christian Jambet, Qu'est-ce que la philosophie islamique? (Paris: Folio essais, 2011). 77 Nasr, Islamic Philosophy from its Origin to the Present, 60. 78 Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Knowledge and the Sacred (New York: State University of New York Press, 1989), 65. 79 As Nasr himself points out, it was A. Coomaraswamy who suggested to use this notion (see ibid). 80 Ibid. 81 Nasr, Islamic Philosophy from its Origin to the Present, 93–103.
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interprets the nature of philosophical knowledge, its limits, its relationship with divine revelation and its soteriological implications. Rather than engaging in purely historical research into the different interpretations of the term ҵaql in Islamic philosophy, Nasr’s aim in discussing this issue is to “show how the discourse of various schools on the epistemology was affected in one way or another by the sapiential dimension of prophecy and means of knowing made available by the prophetic agency.”82 As a consequence, his prophetic agency, and the concept of revelation it implies, meant that the intellect referred to by the ancient Greek philosophers was interpreted by Muslim philosophers as being essentially a supra-rational faculty which perceives metaphysical realities. Reason, then, is only a shadow or a servant of this superior intellect; its function consists simply in applying the latter’s cognition to the domain of contingency and duality. Nasr argues that the crucial notion of taҵaqqul (the activity of knowing)—or more precisely, the actualizing of intelligible realities in the soul—should be translated as intellectual intuition rather than as ratiocination; he adds that the term intuition should not be confused with natural instinct, which is of an inferior degree, but that it means “a power that illuminates and removes the boundaries of reason and the limitations of individualistic existence.”83 So, the aim of the philosophical activity is to orientate the human mind through discursive knowledge towards the supra-discursive intellect, that is, to the faculty which is able to apprehend a superior, and in fact, an illuminative and spiritual form of knowledge. This constitutes what Nasr calls the hierarchy of knowledge: In the Islamic perspective, therefore, one can speak of a hierarchy of knowledge ranging from the sensual, through the imaginary and the rational, to the intellectual, which is also intuitive and identified with the heart. But just as the rational faculty of knowledge is not opposed to the sensual, the intellectual and intuitive are not opposed to the rational. Rather, the mind is a reflection of the heart, the center of the microcosm. The Islamic doctrine of Unity (al-tawۊƯd) has been able to embrace all modes of knowing into complementary and not contending stages of a hierarchy leading to that supreme form of knowledge, that gnosis of the purified heart that is ultimately none other than the unitive and unifying knowledge of the One and the most profound realization of the Unity (attawۊƯd) that is the Alpha and Omega of the Islamic revelation.84
82
Ibid., 93. Ibid., 99. 84 Ibid., 103. 83
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Nasr applies this way of understanding Islamic philosophy to specific historical cases too. For instance, He holds that regarding the Andalusian tradition of falsafa as particularly rationalist in comparison to oriental traditions, as is usually the case with academic scholarship, constitutes an incorrect understanding of it: The West may have seen in the Islamic philosophy of Spain a pure Aristotelian rationalism with which it was fascinated but which it feared. In the light of the integral tradition of Islamic philosophy, however, it is this synthesis between practical Sufism and philosophy as metaphysics and gnosis that represents the central message of this school.85
4. The experience of existence Defining the ҵaql of the philosophers as a transcendental faculty, at least in its superior reality, turns philosophy into an essentially spiritual enterprise. Consequently, the object of philosophical activity is for Nasr the experience of divine and necessary Being (wƗjib al-wujnjd). This is why, following directly the issue of epistemology, he emphasizes the fundamental importance of the ontology elaborated by Islamic philosophers.86 In particular the distinction between essence (mƗhiyya) and existence (wujnjd), as conceptualised by Ibn SƯnƗ, not only represents a genuine Islamic contribution to universal human thought, but is also central to the prophetic character and scope of Islamic philosophy. It is this distinction which conceptualises the monotheistic idea of creation and of God’s absolute transcendence into a philosophical reasoning. But Nasr insists that the actual scope of this distinction goes further: The study of existence in later Islamic philosophy is […] only outwardly concerned with the analysis of concepts of ‘existence’, ‘quiddity’, ‘necessity’, ‘contingency’ and the like. Beneath this rigorous logical analysis there stands the invisible presence of the profound spiritual experience of pure existence and ultimately of Being itself.87
Whereas in Islam the study of ontology directed its focus to the experience of the divine source of being, Nasr believes that the West deviated gradually from this original aim of the study of being: “Western Scholasticism was gradually led to the study, not of being itself, but of that 85
Ibid., 154–57. Ibid., 63–91. 87 Ibid., 90. 86
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which exists and, therefore, of things […]”; thus, the history of modern Western thought is marked by “the gradual forgetting of the reality of Being in favor of the concept of being and then the disintegration of even this concept in the mainstream of Western philosophy […].”88 As the distinction between reason and intellect, the distinction between essence and existence has for Nasr a crucial importance for contemporary Islamic thought and theology: The message of Islamic philosophy, as it concerns the study of wujnjd and mƗhiyya, is therefore of great significance for the contemporary world, which is suffocating in an environment of material things and objects that have overwhelmed the human spirit. That philosophy is of great significance for a world that lives intensely on the mental plane at the expense of other dimensions of human existence, for although this philosophy speaks to the mind, it draws the mind once again towards the heart. The heart is the center of the human being, the locus of inner illumination and seat of the intellect, through which man is able to know experientially that Reality of wujnjd that determines what and who we are, from where we issue, and to whose embrace we finally turn.89
III. The contemporary situation of Islamic thought It is now clear that Nasr does not content himself with retracing the history of Islamic philosophy. He explicitly lays claim to understanding this philosophical tradition and to comprehending the spirit that animates it, a spirit that he seeks to render fertile for today’s Islam. Thus, his considerations about the history of Islamic philosophy must be incorporated into the background of two debates that mark modern Muslim thought.90 Firstly, the debate concerning the notion of turƗth,91 i.e. the problem of the religious and cultural patrimony of Islamic civilisations: How should this patrimony be treated in a modern context? Ought it to be overcome, adopted or adapted? Secondly, Nasr’s considerations are to be situated within the debate concerning the 88
Ibid., 89. Ibid., 83–84. 90 Muhammad K. Masud, Armando Salvatore and Martin van Bruinessen, eds., Islam and modernity: Key issues and debates (Edinburgh: Edinburgh Univ. Press, 2009) offers an analytic outline of the various aspects concerning the issue of modernity in contemporary Islamic thought. 91 For a general overview of the historical background and the principal tendencies of this debate see Geert Hendrich, Arabisch-islamische Philosophie: Geschichte und Gegenwart (Frankfurt, New York: Campus, 2005), 138–51. 89
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relationship of Islam with the modern West. The first debate sets Islam against itself and the second debate sets Islam against the other, but both are naturally intrinsically interconnected. Nasr maintains that the Islamic philosophical tradition has an essential role to play in both debates. This view is perhaps due to the influence of one of his teachers of Shiite philosophy, ޏAllƗma ৫abƗ৬abƗޏƯ. The latter believed that the Islamic philosophical tradition provides the means to answer the challenges of modern Western philosophy and thought.92
1. The turƗth debate Nasr himself situates his intellectual activity explicitly within the scope of the turƗth debate and the renewal of Islamic thought while focusing on certain elements, namely “three of the most important aspects of the Islamic intellectual tradition, that is, philosophy with all its different schools, doctrinal Sufism, and the sciences”.93 At the same time, he criticises both progressive Muslim thinkers and any form of fundamentalism, be it of reformist-rationalist or Salafist-pietistic tendency. On the one hand, Nasr criticises contemporary Muslim thinkers such as Mohammed Arkoun whom he calls “a friend”. His thought, according to Nasr, does not speak from within the tradition of Islamic intellectuality or philosophy, especially if one considers his theory of higher criticism that he wants to apply to Islamic texts. Arkoun rather seems to be a modern French philosopher “who happens to be a Muslim”.94 He criticises Islamic liberation theology and such thinkers as Ali Shariati (1933-1977), too, for interpreting Islam as an ideology.95 On the other hand, Nasr distinguishes sharply between traditional Islam and fundamentalism,96 the latter’s current success being for him merely a by-product of modernity. What both the progressist and the various fundamentalist thinkers have in common is, according to Nasr, their rejection of tradition, especially as far as this term implies the continuity of the transmission of the corpus of science and arts which developed throughout the fourteen centuries of Islamic history. Here we quote a relatively long passage of his Gifford Lecture where Nasr defines this term which is so crucial to his thinking:
92
Nasr and Jahanbegloo, In Search of the Sacred, 106–07. Ibid., 109. 94 Ibid., 225–26. 95 Ibid., 178. 96 Nasr, Traditional Islam in the Modern World, 11–25. 93
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Tradition as used in its technical sense in this work, as in all our other writings, means truths or principles of a divine origin revealed or unveiled to mankind and, in fact, a whole cosmic sector through various figures envisaged as messengers, prophets, avataras, the Logos or other transmitting agencies, along with all the ramifications and applications of these principles in different realms including law and social structure, art, symbolism, the sciences, and embracing of course Supreme Knowledge along with the means for its attainment. […] From another point of view religion can be considered in its essential sense as those principles which are revealed by Heaven and which bind man to his Origin. In this case, tradition can be considered in a more restricted sense as the application of these principles. Tradition implies truths of a supra-individual character rooted in the nature of reality […]. Tradition is inextricably related to revelation and religion, to the sacred, to the notion of orthodoxy, to authority, to the continuity and regularity of transmission of the truth, to the exoteric and the esoteric as well as to the spiritual life, science and the arts.97
Although Nasr admits that there is no exact translation for this term in Arabic, he argues that the phrase Islamic tradition corresponds “[…] that single tree of Divine Origin whose roots are the Koran and the ۊadƯth, and whose trunk and branches constitute that body of tradition that has grown from those roots over some fourteen centuries in nearly every inhabited quarter of the globe”.98 Here it becomes clear that he considers the term tradition to be a dynamic reality whose principles are supra-historical, while its applications in the social, cultural and political realm depend on and are adapted to historical circumstances. Nasr’s maintains it is in this sense, i.e. in this permanent process of application of the principles of Islam, that Islamic philosophy had a crucial function in Islamic history. Firstly, falsafa has had the function of integrating sapiential and scientific traditions from non-Muslim cultures and of harmonizing them with the Islamic revelation. Further, Islamic philosophy had elaborated a metaphysics founded upon tawۊƯd, the Islamic doctrine of unity, which unites both rational and intuitive or spiritual knowledge, especially from SuhrawardƯ onwards. This metaphysics has thus served as a basis for the development of other non-theological sciences as physics, psychology, political philosophy, etc. In modern times, Nasr argues, this double function of Islamic Philosophy needs to be restored, particularly in order to enable the renewal of Islamic intellectual life on its own terms. He does not think that kalƗm theology is 97 98
Nasr, Knowledge and the Sacred, 64. Nasr, Traditional Islam in the Modern World, 11–12.
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able to fulfil this task, since its nature and scope is confined to a defensive apology of the articles of faith, especially the absolute liberty and power of the divine will, and this scope should be understood in terms of certain historical situations only. Despite having assimilated philosophical elements in its later forms, kalƗm does not have the philosophical, explanatory and creative possibilities necessary for a credible intellectual response to modernism.99
2. The debate concerning the modern West “Few subjects arouse more passion and debate among Muslims today than the encounter between Islam and modern thought”.100 The issue of modernism is certainly the most significant challenge to contemporary Islamic thought. The anti-metaphysical elements of modern thought represent for Nasr a serious threat to Islamic thought and to the spiritual well-being of the Muslim community, especially what he calls scientism, meaning thereby the reduction of scientific truth and certainty to quantifiable phenomena. Thus, he holds that adopting these antimetaphysical elements without a profound criticism founded on Islamic principles is the real cause of the current cultural situation of the Islamic world, which he generally describes in negative terms, and only by referring to the philosophical tradition of Islam can this challenge be overcome. In fact, if falsafa constitutes an essential element of turƗth, it is because it offers Muslim elites the means of confronting Western modernity with the intellectual resources of the Islamic tradition. Only a renewal of prophetic philosophy will permit the Muslim elites to effect such a criticism and to formulate both authentic and credible responses to modern problems. He refers to the example of the metaphysical existentialism of MullƗ ৡadrƗ as the basis for an Islamic response to modern anti-metaphysical existentialism. Nasr criticises the Fundamentalontologie of Heidegger as being an attempt to reach Being without God. Nevertheless, he considers the issues which Heidegger brought up as very significant and a justification of the importance of his thinking from a traditional perspective. His position is similar in this regard to that of the late Corbin who, although early on attracted to the German Existentialist, considered the latter’s ontology as being incomplete once he encountered SuhrawardƯ and MullƗ ৡadrƗ. 99
On Nasr’s view on kalƗm, especially Ashޏarism, see Nasr, Islamic Philosophy from its Origin to the Present, 49–60. 100 Nasr, Traditional Islam in the Modern World, 97.
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Moreover, Nasr disagrees with Heidegger who traces the misunderstanding of Being in Western philosophy back to Aristotle. For Nasr, this misunderstanding began in the Renaissance, that is, at the very beginning of modernism when, as he explains, ontology became gradually reduced to epistemology, epistemology to logic and finally logic to irrationality.101 Accordingly, “one of the greatest mistakes that modernised Muslims make today is that they think that Islam brought about the European Renaissance, and that the Renaissance is proof of how wonderful Islamic civilisation was. In fact, during the Renaissance, Arabs and Muslims were hated more than in any other period of European history [...]”.102 Not surprisingly, Nasr is opposed to the phenomena of globalisation which for him is really an occidentalisation effected by the spread of the Western consumerist lifestyle; it is further a process through which the economic disequilibrium between the rich and the poor is becoming even more marked. He says today, on a global level, Islam and the other authentic religions must “prevent the homogenization of humanity and destruction of local religions, cultures, and traditions in the name of global economic welfare”.103
3. The education of today’s Muslim elites An important aspect of Nasr’s considerations about the actuality of Islamic philosophy is its role in the education of contemporary Muslim elites. Nasr is highly critical of modern education, particularly that it is based on mental instruction only. Consequently, it tends to neglect the moral and spiritual dimension, while at the same time, unlike Oriental disciplines such as Yoga, it also disconnects physical education from the interior reality of the human being. Nasr describes the phenomenon of teenagers shooting in schools and committing suicide as a consequence of the disastrous evolution of modern education. Education, according to Nasr has to involve all the aspects of human existence and lead to a certain way of living.104 The separation of science from morals in the modern educational and academic system is, Nasr argues, very dangerous as it risks leaving science in the hands of people without any moral conscience and “with a thirst for greater power, selfishness and greed”. He mentions in particular the example of nuclear physics and the invention of the atomic bomb to which it led. Nasr met Oppenheimer during his time at 101
Nasr and Jahanbegloo, In Search of the Sacred, 58–59. Ibid., 229. 103 Ibid., 220–21. 104 Ibid., 75–80. 102
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M.I.T. and saw how the latter suffered severely from the results of his invention of the atomic bomb until his death.105 Besides criticising the modern system of education, he draws attention to the serious problems that the importation of this system to Islamic countries has caused. The separation of religious learning and academic learning created two distinct intellectual milieus which are not able to communicate one with another or to understand each other’s standpoint. Besides the intellectual discrepancy it represents, this situation causes social and cultural tensions.106 Nasr argues that for education, learning and knowledge to be authentic, they must seek only the perfection of the human being. Therefore, education should concern all aspects of one’s being and aim at the cultivation of wisdom. Repeating the maxims of ancient philosophers, for Nasr life itself should be viewed as an educational process which means that education is not something added to life, but its very substance. His commitment to the education issue led him to play an important role in the organisation of the World Congress of Islamic Education held in Mecca in 1977.107 However, it is in relation to education that the role of Islamic philosophy should be the most significant. This tradition has elaborated conceptions of education which harmonise the requirements of spirituality with those of philosophical rationality. According to Nasr, it is this system of education that permitted the emergence of Muslim scientists-philosophers who were both great philosophers and masters in the natural sciences. In his book Traditional Islam in the Modern World (1990),2 Nasr gives an overview of the concepts of education in Islamic philosophy basing his considerations on the thought of the IkhwƗn al-ৢafƗގ, Ibn SƯnƗ, SuhrawardƯ and MullƗ ৡadrƗ. In brief, the aim of education as he describes it, is in the first place to render the human soul capable of actualising its superior potentialities and in this way of realising true existence through the experience of God. This process of actualisation consists of several phases. However, above all it necessitates the combination of the acquisition of theoretical knowledge and the purification of the soul. The actualisation thus achieved leads to the illumination of the intellect by the divine light. This is a conception of education based on a holistic and spiritual vision of the human being. Besides this spiritual purpose, the educational programme expounded by Nasr posits the teaching of the Islamic philosophical patrimony before approaching modern thought. Only after assimilating the prophetic philosophy, Nasr insists, will the Muslim 105
Ibid., 77. Ibid., 78–79. 107 Ibid., 78. 106
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student be able to engage with the modern disciplines, ideologies and different points of view, without losing his spiritual orientation.
IV. Conclusion What is the relevance of Nasr’s concept of prophetic philosophy and of his considerations about the renewal of Muslim intellectual life for contemporary Islamic thought and theology? Firstly, it is true that Nasr’s views of the nature and the history of the philosophical tradition in Islam, and of its pertinence for the contemporary context, have encountered various criticisms from very disparate milieus. Some elements in reformist or even traditional Muslim milieus have criticised Nasr for his doctrine of the transcendent unity of religions, of primordial tradition and perennialism, and because he distinguishes between exoterism and esoterism, all central conceptions of traditionalist thought discussed by Guénon. Academic scholarship has generally recognised Nasr’s profound and extensive expertise in the domain of Islamic Studies, especially in Shiism, Sufism, comparative religion, the Muslim natural sciences and philosophy, but seems rather suspicious of Nasr’s inclination to attribute an Islamic and especially a spiritual and not to say esoteric scope to pre-modern art, philosophy and science in the Muslim world. This integrative approach to falsafa, rooted in Corbin’s idea that it is an aspect of Islamic thought, is held to be outdated by recent tendencies in scholarship.108 Besides these epistemological issues, there is the reproach of a certain terminological vagueness and historical superficiality which overemphasises harmony and continuity, while overlooking significant controversies, ruptures and conflicts in the history of Islam.109 For Mehzard Boroujerdi, author of the book Iranian Intellectuals and the West, “Nasr is too willing to ignore and forgive the abominations and splits that have occurred in the history of Islamic societies”.110 Furthermore, Nasr’s critique of modernity is qualified as being “quite subjective and ahistorical”.111 Referring to the German philosopher Jürgen Habermas, Boroujerdi holds that Nasr tends to
108
Ulrich Rudolph, ed., Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophie: Philosophie in der islamischen Welt 1 (Basel: Schwabe Verlag, 2012), xxi. 109 For an overview of Nasr’s position in the academic study of falsafa and the critique it raises see ibid., xviii–xix. 110 Mehrzad Boroujerdi, Iranian Intellectuals and the West: The Tormented Triumph of Nativism (New York: Syracuse University Press, 1996), 128. 111 Ibid.
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“underestimate the complexity of modernity”, especially the fact that modernity is not a “failed”, but merely an “unfinished project”.112 However, one has to ask whether such systematic criticism does justice to Nasr’s scholarship once its explicit scope and purpose have been noted. He has never tried to conceal his personal engagement as a Muslim intellectual and, one could argue, it is within this context that his ideas should be evaluated. In the current post-modern paradigm of the social sciences and its denial of any essentialist view of history, Nasr’s profile and thought raise the question of the relationship between the Muslim intellectual as a historian and his activity as a philosopher. If a historian is somebody who analyses discourses without any personal judgement, while the philosopher is somebody who creates discourses by using his personal judgement, it is nonetheless true that the analysis of a discourse becomes itself a discourse by the mere fact of being conditioned by a determined cultural and social context and by certain codes framing the production of information. But more concretely, from the point of view of Islamic theology, Nasr’s intellectual commitment also raises the question of how to conceive of a philosophical activity in the current context and the role of the university in this regard. Although with a quite different purpose, the problem was in fact raised earlier by Heidegger: is philosophical activity confined to philosophy as taught in universities? As to the question of what philosophy actually means, philosophy as practiced in the university environment is obviously not be confined to retracing its history or to using it as a tool for societal self-reflection, but implies an existential hermeneutics of reality and the commitment to a certain way of life. Seen from this perspective, Nasr’s concept of prophetic philosophy might reveal a useful impetus for a philosophical and rational approach to issues of contemporary Islam that takes into account the need to integrate the notion of tradition. Nasr’s academic thought and life as well as the success of his writing show that there is, in contemporary Islam, the room and demand for a certain type of traditionalist discourse. This discourse addresses issues such as the significance of spiritual experience in epistemology and in ontology; a credible philosophy of religion integrating the historical contributions of both Sufism and Islamic philosophy; a constructive and serene approach to the issue of orthodoxy and normative authority, especially in view of an internal Islamic ecumenism; the existential foundations and trans-historical concerns of interreligious dialogue; the conditions for a critical reflection on modernism; the ethical dimension of knowledge; the way to conceive the education of contemporary 112
Ibid., 129.
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Muslim intellectuals in the modern university system. Nasr’s ideas might be valued differently, nevertheless, it is undeniable that he raises some crucial questions with which a contemporary Islamic theology will have to deal.
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CHAPTER TEN HOW THE PROPHET SAW THE WORLD: ON THE QURގƖNIC EXEGESIS OF MOHAMMAD MOJTAHED SHABESTARI ABBAS POYA
Introduction Mohammad Mojtahed Shabestari (b. 1936) is the most renowned contemporary Iranian scholar to have developed new methodological approaches to QurގƗnic exegesis. This paper discusses the development of his approaches to exegesis, as well as the elaboration of his theories to other areas. To situate his work within the field, however, this section will first briefly discuss comparable works of QurގƗnic exegesis published in Iran over several recent decades. There is the well-known and widely circulated al-MizƗn fi tafsir al-QurҴƗn1 (The Benchmark in QurގƗnic Exegesis), by the philosopher and legal scholar Sayyid ণusayn ৫abƗ৬abƗގi (1892-1981). His work is classified as being in the so-called progressive camp, along with that of two others whose work however remains incomplete. These are, Mahmud TƗleqƗni (1914-1979), a reform scholar and advocate of a strand of Islamic Socialism, who wrote Partouvi az QurҴƗn (A Ray of Light from the QurގƗn); and the activist scholar, politico-religious intellectual Mohammad Taqi Shariޏati (1907-1987), who compiled the Tafsir-e navin (Modern Exegesis). More traditional works in the field are the Tafsir-e namune (Chosen Exegesis), by the grand AyatollƗh MakƗrem ShirƗzi (b. 1924) and the MafƗhim al-QurҴƗn (Meanings of the QurގƗn) by the grand AyatollƗh Jaޏfar SobhƗni (b. 1930). 1
Contrary to the other articles in this volume, the non-European sources consulted in this article are mainly in Persian. Therefore, a different transliteration system was used (esp.: ‘i’ for the long vowel instead of ‘Ư’ and ‘e’ for the short vowel instead of ‘i’).
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The two works of TƗleqƗni and Shariޏati are generally characterized as scientific, socially critical, and reform-oriented. The works of the latter two scholars, ShirƗzi and SobhƗni, on the other hand, follow more conventional methodologies of exegesis. Shabestari has not produced a tafsir work of his own, but is nonetheless concerned with promoting a new approach to understanding the QurގƗn. He challenges the conventional readings that take place in traditional educational institutions. At the same time, he considers the attempts made by TƗleqƗni and Shariޏati insufficient for an adequate understanding of the QurގƗn, and by extension, of Islam. He sees the official reading (qerƗҴat-e rasmi) of religion and the QurގƗn as too strongly oriented towards fiqh (jurisprudence). As far as he is concerned, the current state of affairs in the field is one of crisis. Within this context, he pleads for an interpretive opening up in our approach to religion and to the QurގƗn. He believes that religious texts can be read and understood in different ways, and that they may all be criticized, and that through reflecting on different readings, one may arrive at a suitable interpretation of the religion or its sacred texts.2 At the same time, these concerns of his touch on a field that hardly any other religious intellectual (rushanfekrƗn-e dini) has approached. Socalled religious intellectuals3 tend to be those post-revolutionary Iranian scholars who argue against the official readings of Islam and advocate formulating a religious understanding in harmony with human rights, affirming democratic forms of government, and individual and social freedoms. In addition to Shabestari, this group also includes the prerevolutionary intellectual ޏAli Shariޏati, as well ޏAbdolkarim Soroush and MostafƗ MalekyƗn; the latter two became better known after the founding of the Islamic republic. Whilst Shariޏati has written about the ideologisation of Islam, MalekyƗn has been mostly concerned with questions of ethics, and Soroush with epistemological themes, Shabestari has made his primary field of inquiry the discussion surrounding new methodological approaches to interpreting the QurގƗn. The point of departure for all these thinkers is the relation between religious prescriptions and the challenges of modernity.
2 M. Mojtahed Shabestari, Naqdi bar qerƗҴat-e rasmi az din (Tehran: Tarh-e Nou, 2000a), 7. 3 For more on this phenomenon, see Abbas Poya, Denken jenseits von Dichotomien. Iranisch-religiöse Diskurse im postkolonialen Kontext (Bielefeld: transcript, 2014), 136–42.
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Biography4 Mohammad Mojtahed Shabestari was born in 1936 in Shabestar, in the Iranian province of East Azerbaijan. In 1951 he went to Qom to study the classical Islamic sciences. Over eighteen years he studied Arabic language, Islamic philosophy, theology, jurisprudence and juridical methodology. He traveled to Hamburg in 1969 to manage the local Islamic centre in the Imam Ali mosque. Throughout his nine-year stay in Germany he grappled with different religious outlooks, especially those of Christianity, Judaism, and Buddhism. The inter-faith dialogues in which he participated distinguished him from other scholars in the field. He returned to Iran in 1978, during the social and political turbulence following the founding of the Islamic republic. He founded his own magazine, Andishe-e eslƗmi (Islamic Thought), though it was forced to close after only a few issues due to financial constraints. He appeared as a guest speaker and guest expert on numerous radio and television shows. Following the first elections after the Islamic Revolution he became a member of parliament. The increasingly rigorous official politics of the country however caused him to distance himself gradually from the political arena. He later accepted an offer from the Ministry of Education (vezƗret-e ҵolum) to lecture at the University of Tehran in the fields of philosophy and Islamic theology but after a while he shifted to the fields of religion and mysticism. In 2006, along with many other non-conformist lecturers and thinkers, Shabestari was forced into early retirement. He maintained contact with European academic institutions however, and was regularly invited as a visiting professor and guest speaker to scholarly institutions in Austria and Germany. Today, he is counted among the bestknown intellectual critics of the official policies of his country and of Islamic rigorism in general. Shabestari was also intellectually active before the founding of the Islamic republic, especially during his years of study in Qom. He was counted as one of the few progressive scholars at the time and contributed 4
On Shabestari’s life, see the short autobiography on his website: http://mohammadmojtahedshabestari.com/biography.php (last accessed: Feb. 20, 2016); as well as, S. Mahmoud Sadri, “Sacral Defense of Secularism: The Political Theologies of Soroush, Shabestari, and Kadivar,” International Journal of Politics, Culture and Society 15, no. 2 (2001): esp. 260–61; Farzin Vahdat, “Postrevolutionary Islamic modernity in Iran: The intersubjective hermeneutics of Mohamad Mojtahed Shabestari,” in Modern Muslim intellectuals and the QurҴan, ed. Suha Taji-Farouki, Reprinted., Qur'anic studies series 1 (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 2010), esp. 198–201.
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regularly to the well-known and handsomely endowed magazine Maktab-e eslƗm (The School of Islam).5 Along with many other academics, he shared the dream of an ideal Islamic order. His ambitions at the time were geared towards new interpretations of traditional religious views, and finding a way to reconcile them with the revolutionary ideas of the young generation in order to guarantee freedom and justice.6 This phase in his intellectual oeuvre, however, is not the focus of this paper. After breaking away from the official politics of his country, Shabestari concerned himself primarily with the elaboration of new theories of QurގƗnic exegesis. His main concern has been to show that no QurގƗnic exegesis, no Islamic understanding, and generally, no insight or realization is wrought out of thin air. Rather, any production of knowledge is always rooted in an individual’s own personal and socio-political context and interests.7 This assumption must also, necessarily, count for Shabestari himself and his insights. His thoughts on QurގƗnic exegesis indeed stand in clear and direct relation to his views on political and ethical matters.8 For this reason, the next section will briefly elaborate his position vis-à-vis democracy, freedom and the plurality of religious interpretation, before elaborating on the methodological aspects of his exegetical approach.
Democracy: the best possible form of government According to Shabestari, religion/Islam is primarily concerned with freedom and justice. It does not prescribe a particular form of government. Rather, it supports that system of rule which is most likely to guarantee freedom and justice. And in today’s world, democracy is the only form of government that guarantees freedom and justice and thus, it should be supported.9 Shabestari is well aware, however, that even in democracies, 5
Ibid., 199. Mohammad Mansur HƗshemi, Din andishƗn-e motajadded. Rushanfekri-e dini az shariҵati tƗ malekyƗn (Tehran: s.n., 2006), 235. 7 M. Mojtahed Shabestari, Hermeneutik, ketƗb, sonnat (Tehran: Tarh-e Nou, 2000b), 7–9. 8 Sarkohi makes this connection in reverse, stating that Shabestari’s position on democracy and human rights is firmly rooted in his understanding of religion and its interpretation, see Arash Sarkohi, Der Demkoratie- und Menschenrechtsdiskurs der religiösen Reformer in Iran und die Universalität der Menschenrechte (Würzburg: Ergon, 2014), 72. 9 M. Mojtahed Shabestari, TaҴammolƗti dar qerƗҴat-e ensƗni az din (Tehran: Tarhe Nou, 2004), 147–48. 6
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the rules of the governance can be manipulated in non-democratic ways to maintain a given status-quo and to avoid being forced to relinquish power. For this reason, he declares that on the one hand, believers can/should support democratic rule out of religious conviction. On the other hand, he emphasizes the point that, just because they might form the majority, this does not grant them permission to insist on the maintenance of established Shariޏa rules.10 His argumentation is that majoritarian decision-making is no justification for implementing discriminatory regulations that go against human rights.11 He goes a step further, stating that respect for the will of the majority is not in itself a guarantor of democratic rule; first and foremost, freedom and equality must be guaranteed to all members of society as basic human rights.12 In order to do away with any possibility of the abuse of democracy, he questions concepts such as religious democracy or democratic religious state.13 It is with these kinds of expressions that ޏAbdolkarim Soroush tried to oppose the official political system of the velƗyet-e faqih (rule of the juridical scholar) in Iran. At the same time, Soroush, who was voted one of the 100 most influential people in the world by Time magazine in 2004, was trying to formulate a specifically democratic concept for a religious society such as that of Iran.14 Shabestari is not generally opposed to adding the word religious (dini), if it is intended to indicate that someone supports democracy out of his/her religious convictions. But one may not do away with the essential preconditions of a democratic society, namely freedom, justice and equality for all its citizens.15 This is why he is in favour of separating the political sphere from matters of religion. In an interview for the online magazine Qantara.de in 2012, he summarized his views on the matter of the separation of religion and the state as follows: I am of the opinion that religious and political institutions are different institutions with different functions. That is the reason for their separation. But it does not follow that the religiosity of people cannot be the moral or ethical impulse for politics. This is entirely possible. This is why I do not say that politics and religion are separate from one another. Instead, I
10
Ibid., and Shabestari, Naqdi bar qerƗҴat-e rasmi az din, 116–17. Shabestari, TaҴammolƗti dar qerƗҴat-e ensƗni az din, 150–51 and 179. 12 Ibid., 179. 13 Ibid., 180. 14 Abbas Poya, Denken jenseits von Dichotomien. Iranisch-religiöse Diskurse im postkolonialen Kontext, 153–63. 15 Shabestari, TaҴammolƗti dar qerƗҴat-e ensƗni az din, 145–52. 11
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always say: political and religious institutions should be separate. But of course there can and should exist forms of cooperation between them.16
Shabestari believes there is no specifically Islamic form of government. In his view, it was not the task of the Prophet Muতammad to introduce or implement a particular political system. Rather, he was a prophet, like all the others, and his goal was to save human beings from harm and to teach them how to conduct their lives in a spiritual manner.17 The political practice of the Prophet and of the first generation of Muslims was not determined by God and thus, was not holy, but human (ensƗni), and worldly/secular (ҵurfi) and historically/geographically limited, so contestable and not valid for all times and places.18 The Prophet moved in the contemporary social structures of his time, and tried, within this framework, to realize his moral and legal conceptions. Thus, by way of example, Islam contributed to improving the situation of women at the time, but did not do away with the structures of patriarchy. By the same token, in the political realm the Prophet did not develop his own mode of government, but contributed to improving the existing political relations of power. He was, primarily, a moral authority.19 Shabestari does not locate opposition to democracy in Islam.20 On the contrary, Islam is passionately in favour of democratic principles, since it sees freedom and equality as fundamental religious values that are best guaranteed in a democratic form of government.21 However, Shabestari makes it clear that favouring democracy or otherwise is not a question of epistemology, but rather a concrete decision. It is a matter of positioning oneself, as a Muslim, in relation to favouring or opposing democracy. He writes:
16 http://de.qantara.de/content/interview-mit-mohammad-mojtahed-shabestariwarum-islam-und-demokratie-zusammen-passen?qt-nodes_popularity=2 (last accessed: March 25, 2016). 17 Shabestari, TaҴammolƗti dar qerƗҴat-e ensƗni az din, 155–56. 18 Ibid., 156–57. 19 Ibid., 167–68; see also http://de.qantara.de/content/interview-mit-mohammadmojtahed-shabestari-warum-islam-und-demokratie-zusammen-passen?qtnodes_popularity=2. For Shabestari‘s views on democracy and how it relates to Islam in Iran, see Katajun Amirpur, “Islam und Demokratie – Die Geschichte einer Aneignung,” Blätter für deutsche und internationale Politik 56, no. 11 (2011). 20 On Shabestari’s analysis of the relationship between religion/Islam and democracy, see M. Mojtahed Shabestari, “Demokratie und Religiösität [transl. by Katajun Amirpur],” in Katajun Amirpur, Unterwegs zu einem anderen Islam. 21 Shabestari, TaҴammolƗti dar qerƗҴat-e ensƗni az din, 147.
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Chapter Ten The question is not whether or not Islam and democracy are compatible. I have always said so. The correct formulation of the question is, do Muslims want democracy or not? My answer is, if Muslims want democracy, then they will find an interpretation of Islam that is compatible with it. If they do not want democracy, then they will not find such an interpretation.22
Freedom and Plurality of Religious Readings One of Shabestari’s primary concerns is the defence of civil liberties, of human rights, and of freedom of belief.23 He feels that it is important that scholars in a community of believers should have no fear of any red lines. On the contrary, he says one must accord critics enough space to express their opinions freely. It is then up to the believer to work out how to suitably state and represent their convictions, in light of the critique that has been advanced.24 Shabestari’s understanding of religious devotion is one of ongoing discussion, a constant exchange between human beings and God. Consequently, religious scripture will always be ambivalent and should always be read, re-read, understood, and interpreted anew. If the religious writings were definitive, then, according to Shabestari, the conversation between God and human beings would have no meaning. He adds that some people, in refusing to tread the path of exegesis and of modern understandings of religious writings, are keen to declare that the communication between God and human beings has already been terminated.25 In another of his writings, Shabestari arrives at the following conclusion: since religious belief can only develop in conditions of freedom, external [political] freedom is a necessary precondition to internal [mental] freedom. So, beliefs can develop differently under varying forms of government; but their unfolding is generally not compatible with an understanding of religion that is exclusive and totalitarian. If such conditions prevail, belief will decay.26 22
http://de.qantara.de/content/interview-mit-mohammad-mojtahed-shabestari-warumislam-und-demokratie-zusammen-passen?qt-nodes_popularity=2. 23 On Shabestari’s conceptualization of the relationship between religion/Islam and human rights, see M. Mojtahed Shabestari, “Die Menschenrechte und das Verständnis der Religion [transl. by Katajun Amirpur],” in Katajun Amirpur, Unterwegs zu einem anderen Islam. 24 Shabestari, Hermeneutik, ketƗb, sonnat, 203. 25 Ibid., 302. 26 M. Mojtahed Shabestari, ImƗn wa ƗzƗdi (Tehran: Tarh-e Nou, 2000c), 64–89.
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Shabestari basically sees thinking as a never-ending process: “Thought comes from thinking, and wherever thinking is restricted, this characteristic is lost. Thinking generally means that thoughts may never be restricted. Thinking can thus be equated with freedom.”27 Elsewhere, he writes: If we say that knowledge about God and the characteristics that we have ascribed to Him represent the definitive definition of God and that nobody has the right to say anything different about God, then we are basically claiming that God is at our disposal. When we confine God, then God denies the human and takes away the freedom of human beings.28
According to Shabestari, revelation is addressed to the free individual. The philosophy of the revelation is that God acknowledges the human as a free being. For if God did not recognize human beings as free, He would not speak to them, but would coerce them instead.29 Shabestari refuses to look at belief as something rigid or fixed. His argument is that, since human beings live in multi-faceted social structures and institutions, their beliefs can also become institutionalized. But with the institutionalization of religion there is the risk that human beings themselves will be rejected by the institution; this happens when God, with whom human beings can communicate freely, is replaced by the institution of the religion.30 Shabestari argues also for a dynamic and comprehensive form of ejtehƗd, in order to do justice to the different forms of spirituality. He finds the conventional form of ejtehƗd insufficient and ultimately doomed to fail. The decision to join a religion, according to Shabestari, must be completely voluntary. To impose a religion via propaganda or even the use of force is to betray that religion: If some people believe that belief is a commodity that can be forced onto people with propaganda, on television or through the radio, or that it is a law that can be imposed through the use of force, or that it is an ideology with which to infiltrate the young generation of a society, or that it is nothing more than a science about which books can be compiled, comparable to other disciplines, and necessitating the training of teachers for its transmission, then they are truly wrong. Rather, adopting a belief is the freest, most important and most dignified decision a human being makes. Every word and every deed that subverts this free decision and 27
Ibid., 23. Ibid., 26. 29 Ibid., 28. 30 Ibid., 29. 28
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Hermeneutics of Scripture Guided by his understanding of freedom and politics, Shabestari endeavours to explain in his book, Hermeneutik, KetƗb, Sonnat (Hermeneutics, QurގƗn, and Sunna), why a modern hermeneutic approach to the QurގƗn is important. The predominant mode of thought in intellectual-religious circles in Iran, Shabestari finds, is that one can, or must interpret the QurގƗn and the traditions without prior knowledge, without particular interests, and free of expectations.32 And this is why, according to Shabestari, no one has really set out to explain the prior knowledge, interests, and expectations of individual scholars of exegesis or law.33 It is simply assumed that with knowledge of the language and the corresponding methodology, one automatically reaches the right conclusions.34 This, however, does not take into account, the philosophical, theological, anthropological, sociological, or psychological backgrounds of exegetic or legal assumptions.35 Shabestari wants to draw attention to precisely this point; that the pre-conceptions, interests, and expectations of any individual exegete will affect his perspective, and consequently, his interpretation of the QurގƗn.36 For Shabestari, the starting point in analyzing this problem lies in establishing where the encounter of religious conviction with modernity takes place and with modernity’s conceptualizations of progress. Shabestari confirms the point that there is a relationship of tension between existing religious imaginings and modern life. He presents three possible solutions to the question of the relationship between modernity and the Shariޏa.37 One group contends, according to Shabestari, that the Shariޏa is complete and that it answers all possible questions. Accordingly, the ejtehƗd of times past is wholly sufficient, the Shariޏa is in no need of renewal, and the gate of ejtehƗd must remain firmly closed.38 Consequently, possible 31
Ibid., 42. Shabestari, Hermeneutik, ketƗb, sonnat, 7. 33 Ibid. 34 Ibid. 35 Ibid., 8. 36 Ibid., 9. 37 Ibid., 92. 38 When speaking of closing the door/gate of ejtehƗd (ensedƗd bƗb al-ejtehƗd), the main concern is with the question of whether or not scholars, even after the establishment of the four Sunni legal schools, should continue to practice ejtehƗd 32
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reinterpretations of the Shariޏa are viewed as dubious and destructive.39 The second group, whose view Shabestari describes as efrƗti (unsuitable), has nothing against Islamic belief, but fundamentally rejects the normative prescriptions of Islam and advocates the adoption of other ways of life.40 Shabestari is clearly alluding to the left and Western-liberal positions in internal Iranian discourse, which he adamantly rejects. He also considers reformists and modernists as a third group, which he appears to support. According to this group, the normative is an important part of Islam, but it must be subjected to continuous ejtehƗd, which Shabestari regards as examining one’s theological and anthropological conceptualizations in light of continually evolving scientific knowledge.41 When it comes to questioning the relationship between religion and scientific or philosophical assumptions, Shabestari finds that traditional scholars tend to have a distorted perception. For when there is talk of a contradiction between scientific and philosophical assumptions on the one hand, and religious convictions on the other, then there are scholars who view this as a contradiction between what a human being may comprehend via his capacity for rational thought and what God has decreed. As a consequence, according to Shabestari, these scholars claim that in the case of a contradiction between human assumption and divine utterance, one must subordinate oneself to God. Shabestari finds both the question and answer misleading. As he sees it, there is no contradiction between the human and God, only between the assumptions of some human beings and those of others. For it is human beings who concern themselves with religious texts and announce their conclusions as so-called religious truths. Ultimately, as far as Shabestari is concerned, the contradiction lies between religious assumptions on the one hand, and scientific/philosophical assumptions on the other, whilst in both cases it is a matter of human endeavour.42 Shabestari himself is concerned with finding a hermeneutic means of resolving this contradiction. He sees the proper function of a modern as an independent methodology for legal/judicial inquiries. Scholars of Islamic studies and Muslim intellectuals hold differing opinions on this matter, although recently the question has tended to be answered in the positive. For more on this, see Abbas Poya, Anerkennung des I÷tihƗd – Legitimation der Toleranz. Möglichkeiten Innerer und außerer Toleranz im Islam am Beispiel der I÷tihƗd Diskussion (Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Verlag, 2003), 67–69. 39 Shabestari, Hermeneutik, ketƗb, sonnat, 92. 40 Ibid. 41 Ibid. 42 Ibid., 232–33.
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exegetical scholar as working out the connections between religious convictions, assumptions, and the interests and expectations of interpreters. For this is the meaning of hermeneutics. In his theory, the foundational assumption is that, as a Muslim in today’s world, one is always inevitably influenced by transmitted knowledge and the findings of science, and by every religious finding, through the recognition of God and his Prophet, in the structuring of one’s own life according to the words of the Prophet. And consequently, it is not possible to look at the religious conviction or practice of Muslims independently of their embeddedness in contemporary structures of knowledge.43 As a qualified legal scholar, Shabestari attempts to show, through his work, that a scholar today must have knowledge of a great deal more than the conventions of the traditional discipline of osul (juridical methodology), in order to apply ejtehƗd. The modern intellectual’s knowledge base must extend beyond legal traditions and methodology; it must engage with hermeneutics, and take such a position into account in ejtehƗd, in order to present a form of Islam that is suited to our times. A scholar must be aware of the developments and changes in the world and of the historicity of religious concepts. He cannot assume that previous Shariޏa rulings will be eternally valid. He underpins his theories by basing them on the classical assumptions of the scholarly discipline of osul, pointing out that classical scholars were already engaged in discussions surrounding these assumptions and the importance of taking them into account. They had, for example, determined that a verbal sign (dalƗlat-e lafzi) is an indistinctsign (dalƗlat-e zanni).44 Shabestari is clearly alluding to the fact that every understanding of the QurގƗn—even a legal interpretation of QurގƗnic statements—can be short-lived, and that no reading of textual sources can claim to be definitive. This hermeneutic approach guides Shabestari’s approach to political questions as well; his theory is that the QurގƗn does not prescribe any clearly defined method of exercising authority or any particular form of government, but instead advocates a just way of governing. The role of religion is not to prescribe certain methods or forms of government, but more importantly to determine the general values according to which people ought to be governed.45 For this reason, the methods and forms of governance may change. What must remain constant, however, is the maxim of ruling justly to which all rulers must adhere.46 43
Ibid., 34–43. Ibid., 32. 45 Ibid., 60. 46 Ibid. 44
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The Human Reading of Religion/QurގƗn Shabestari attempts to integrate hermeneutic approaches to religious understanding or QurގƗnic exegesis, whilst taking into account the role of the prior knowledge, interests and the expectations of the subject. This invariably feeds into his theory of a human reading of religion (qerƗҴat-e ensƗni az din). QurގƗnic exegetes have long been concerned with finding the most reliable ways to comprehend God’s intentions in scripture, be it through philological, historical, literary or other means. These attempts are based on the assumption that God purposefully created an order of things that encompasses all aspects of life. They also assume that this intention was announced via the Prophet in the QurގƗn and that consequently, believers are obliged to understand and put into practice the meaning of these words as manifested in the QurގƗn. Shabestari inverts this thought process and completely reformulates the question of exegesis. He differentiates between two exegetic perspectives: God’s perspective of human beings, and the human perspective of God. The former assumes that God wants human beings to be religious and that He has determined and set down what He asks of them. In contrast, the latter assumes that human beings may decide to pursue the path of faith of their own volition and that as part of this process they turn to God. Ultimately, they define the parameters and content of a religious life for themselves. Shabestari himself adheres to the second perspective and defines it as the human way of reading religion.47 He elaborates his theory, explaining that this human reading of religion does not reduce the individual to his religious dimension, but considers all the other aspects of being: philosophical, legal, and other. It is about a spiritual positioning that a human being decides to adopt of his or her own accord, even if in monotheistic religions the exemplary guide is to be found in the lives of the prophets. In this approach the human being is placed at the centre of religious understanding; they are not defined as something abstract, but are seen as historical beings, taking into account all their experiences and impressions. In this reading, then, religion belongs to the human and not the other way round. In the more traditional readings of religion, the individual is often reduced to a bundle of findings and regulations that are holy, transcendental and far removed from human experience. In such a perspective, there is a clear separation between God and human beings. And accordingly, the revelation (waۊy) is an 47
Shabestari, TaҴammolƗti dar qerƗҴat-e ensƗni az din, 7.
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extrasensory, sacred phenomenon, which penetrates the human world and changes the individual, and his universe, and overturns it. No realization is acknowledged, unless it originates from a transcendental space.48 Overall, Shabestari contrasts his human reading of religion (qerƗҴat-e ensƗni az din) with the official reading of religion (qerƗҴat-i rasmi az din), to which he has dedicated an entire work.49 By the official reading of religion he means that interpretation of religion and scripture that is heavily bounded by the Shariޏa and fixated on the state (feqhi/hokumati); it is simply a support system for official Iranian politics, which in turn, support it as well.50 This reading makes use of a language of duties (zabƗn-e taklif) and is always concerned with prescribing to others what is permitted or prohibited. This language is employed not only in the realm of rites, but also in connection with other themes, and in political and social interpersonal questions.51 In contrast, Shabestari addresses the need for a language of rights (zabƗn-e haqq). He believes that in today’s world one should no longer speak of political, social, or economic questions in the language of duties. For today, one has the possibility of selecting alternatives. Here, it is not a matter of choice between the right (ۊaqq) and the wrong (bƗtel), but about the choice between various options, each of which has its own justifications.52 In this day and age, there are different answers to question in all realms of life, from how to enter into marriage or how to bring up children, all the way to ethical and political questions, such as the definition of justice, and how to translate this understanding into practice. Nobody can claim that one answer is definitively correct and that all the others are wrong. And thus, according to Shabestari, a human reading of religion or scripture must take into account this multiplicity of possibilities and this must be acknowledged and taken into consideration for religious and exegetic questions as well.53 In addition, Shabestari is convinced that every text can be read and interpreted in different ways. Since access to religion/Islam is exclusively via scripture, then religion/Islam can also be read and interpreted in different ways. Historical experience supports this position. In every age, depending on prior knowledge, interests and the contemporary context, differing perceptions of religion and religious texts have been produced. Shabestari then comes to the following conclusion: 48
Ibid., 81–85. Shabestari, Naqdi bar qerƗҴat-e rasmi az din. 50 Shabestari, TaҴammolƗti dar qerƗҴat-e ensƗni az din, 60. 51 Ibid., 60–61. 52 Ibid., 61–62. 53 Shabestari, Naqdi bar qerƗҴat-e rasmi az din, 7. 49
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The reading of religion is the reading of religious texts and these can be read, understood, and interpreted in different ways. For this reason, there are multiple readings of religion. The history of religion is a clear testament to this fact.54
In consequence, Shabestari finds it inadequate, given modern hermeneutic analyses, to declare one particular interpretation of a text as the only one that is possible and correct. No text can be limited to only one reading. Islam, in all its possible formations, is an interpretation of the QurގƗn and the Sunna, and every understanding of the QurގƗn and Sunna, so long as it does not repudiate the Prophet, can be justified.55 Shabestari is not trying to defend a form of epistemological relativism by means of this theory. Without engaging in an epistemological discussion, he clarifies the point that correct interpretations are possible, and that they have particular characteristics: The assumption that there exist different readings of religious texts does not mean that the readings and interpretations of religion may proceed under anarchic conditions, or that all readings are correct and that no discussion is necessary. [...] A reading is only acceptable if it is coherent and probable, but these can be numerous.56
The QurގƗn: How the Prophet saw the world In his thoughts on human readings of religion or religious texts, Shabestari is consequential in his elaboration of a further theory; namely, that the QurގƗn is to be seen as an Arabic text, which everybody, religious or not, can comprehend, and which is only referable to one individual, the Prophet of Islam, and which is thus to be understood as the speech of one human being.57 In this sense, the QurގƗn represents a monotheistic reading of the world, that is based on the hermeneutic experiences of the Prophet.58 Shabestari calls this theoretical analysis the prophetic reading of the world (qerƗҴat-e nabawi az jahƗn).59
54
Ibid. Ibid., 114. 56 Ibid., 7 and 151. 57 http://mohammadmojtahedshabestari.com/articles.php?id=229&title. 58 Ibid. 59 Ibid. 55
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His starting point is that the QurގƗn is in essence a human oration (kalƗm ensƗni), although its origin is godly (manshaҴ-e elƗhi); it is ultimately to be referred back to the human being who was Muতammad. Shabestari thus sees the QurގƗn, or the QurގƗnic verses, as historical testaments (shawƗhed-e tƗrikhi), and the Prophet as a human being who has brought forth this text. He emphasizes the point that the text of the QurގƗn, in words and in content, are to be referred back to Muতammad, the individual.60 At the same time, he makes it clear that, unlike many other scholars, he does not see the Prophet as the mouthpiece (kƗnƗl-e souti), who merely transmitted and disseminated words that were supplied to him without actively taking part in the literal production and content of the text. He emphasizes the way in which, on the contrary, one can only speak of human oration (kalƗm-e ensƗni) if the words and content are in fact the product of a human being. The QurގƗn is a text that came into existence over a period of more than twenty years, and in continuous dialogue with humans and historical events.61 In reference to the German theologian and philosopher Albert Keller (1932-2010), Shabestari defines language as a means of expression and a system of signs (shaklhƗ-e ezhƗrƗt), consisting of five elements: speakers, listeners/addressees, context, the community into which the language is spoken, and the meaning that is being conveyed. These five elements must all be present in order to have a discussion about language. In the context of the QurގƗn, then, if we say that Muতammad spoke and that he was taken seriously in doing so, then he must necessarily have been a participant in the coming into being of the spoken word.62 If the Prophet functioned merely as a mouthpiece or reciter, then one could not meaningfully comprehend the efforts of scholars of QurގƗnic exegesis to understand the text.63 As regards the question of what revelation (waۊy) means, Shabestari writes that it is to be understood in the sense of giving the ability to speak the word (tawƗnƗsƗzi be sokhan goftan). To confirm this theory, he refers to the use of the expression in other contexts. Verse 16:68 speaks about a revelation to the bees. What is meant by this is that God gave the bees the ability and competence to make abodes for themselves in mountains, in trees, and in trellises.64 In another work, Shabestari asserts
60
Ibid. Ibid. 62 Ibid. 63 Ibid. 64 Ibid. 61
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that the descent of the book/QurގƗn (enzƗl al-ketƗb),65 does not mean, as is generally assumed, that God sent down the QurގƗn as it is known today to the Prophet. The QurގƗnic expression enzƗl al-ketƗb refers rather to an ongoing process of the discovering and revealing (enkeshƗf) of the world, through the Prophet. In this process, the world was opened to him, like a book in which he could read.66 If we then take as a given, Shabestari concludes, that the QurގƗn is made up of the words of the Prophet, and that the text of the QurގƗn mirrors a linguistic, human relationship between the Prophet and his listeners/readers, then every scientific method that is applied in analysing other linguistic productions may be applied to the analysis of the QurގƗn as well. QurގƗnic exegesis can thus make use of approaches employed in the philosophy of language, linguistics, hermeneutics, critical history, and so on. Shabestari emphasizes the point that not only is such a methodological opening permissible, it is necessary.67 In accordance with his theory that the QurގƗn is the speech of the Prophet and that it conveys the manner in which he saw and read the world,68 Shabestari’s most recent works describe the QurގƗn as the narrating of a religious interpretation of the world.69 The QurގƗn in general conveys how the Prophet saw the world, and not how the world actually was. It comprises Muতammad’s views, his readings of natural phenomena, his understanding of history, and his thoughts on human beings.70 It largely contains accounts that seek to deliver a message; they do not furnish a coherent report about the world as it is (jahƗn-e wƗqeҵ).71 In order to confirm this theory, Shabestari discusses the story of creation as it is told in the QurގƗn (7:11–30). These verses narrate the creation of Adam, Satan’s view of the event, the inveiglement of Adam and his wife by Satan, and the banning of the human couple from Paradise, in order, in the end, to prompt human beings to turn to the One God. 65
The expression is a recurrent one in the QurގƗn; e.g., in the following verses: 4:105 and 5:48. 66 http://mohammadmojtahedshabestari.com/articles.php?id=369&title (last accessed: March, 30th, 2016). 67 http://mohammadmojtahedshabestari.com/articles.php?id=229&title. 68 These assumptions are confirmed in a further contribution of Shabestari, see ibid. 69 On the topic of the QurގƗn as narrative, in Shabestari’s work, ibid and http://mohammadmojtahedshabestari.com/articles.php?id=300&title (last accessed: March, 30th, 2016). 70 See ibid. 71 http://mohammadmojtahedshabestari.com/articles.php?id=299&title (last accessed: March, 30th, 2016).
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According to Shabestari, the entirety of the text exhibits an inner coherence, in that it conveys a particular message and stimulates thought. The separate events that are narrated in this section, however, are set next to one another with no particular context to bind them together. In these terms, then, this is a narrative text that seeks to generate an effect, and it is not a report about the world, either as it is or may have been.72 Shabestari’s approach to understanding Religion or religious texts is a clear plea for the renunciation of the conventional and dominant QurގƗnic exegesis. It is, at the same time, a critique of some modern approaches, such as the so-called scientific exegesis (tafsir ҵilmi). This approach is used by some scholars in an attempt to prove that the QurގƗn antedates all possible scientific knowledge.73 Shabestari clearly rejects this position as is evident in his theory (which assumes the QurގƗn is a reflection of the state of knowledge at the time of the Prophet). His perspective also calls into question the belief of certain scholars that the QurގƗn answers all possible normative questions, and that all those normative instructions contained in the QurގƗn are also valid for current times. He argues against this, stating that the normative concerns addressed in the QurގƗn have to do with the particular experiences of the Prophet and with his specific historical and social context. Shabestari thinks that the normative determinants in the QurގƗn—and he means both the ҵebƗdƗt (actions within the framework of the God-human relationship) as well as the moҵƗmalƗt (actions in the framework of relationships between human beings)—are the result of a contextually specific interpretation of contemporary social realities in the HejƗz that was aimed at bringing those social realities into a harmonious equilibrium with the will of God. They should not be understood as the normative dictates for all societies and all times.74
Summary Shabestari’s thoughts on the QurގƗn and its interpretation ask us to understand the QurގƗn as the speech of the human being, viz., Muতammad; as a text, in which he imparts his experiences with, and his perceptions of 72
Ibid. Generally, on modern QurގƗnic exegesis, and specifically to scientific QurގƗnic exegesis, see Rotraud Wielandt, “Exegesis of the QurގƗn: Early Modern and Contemporary,” in Encyclopaedia of the QurҴƗn, vol. 2, ed. Jane D. McAuliffe, 5 vols. plus Index (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 2:123ff. 74 http://mohammadmojtahedshabestari.com/articles.php?id=159&title (last accessed: March, 20th, 2016). 73
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the world he inhabited. In this one central and immanent message of the QurގƗn, that simultaneously explains its divine origin, is the belief in the one God (payƗm-e touۊidi). Guided by this message, the Prophet perceived the world, history, and humans, in the way set down in the QurގƗn. In this framework and in the context of his immediate social surroundings, he also developed normative provisions. Today’s scholars can and must interpret the QurގƗn anew, in tune with a contemporary time and space, and with regard to its central message. A particular form of government is not to be inferred from the QurގƗn or from the actions of the Prophet or those of his companions. The main concern of a religion, and thus of Islam, is the safeguarding of freedom, justice, and human rights. Since democratic rule is likely to protect these values, it can only be favoured by Islam. What is particularly striking in Shabestari’s work is the coherence of his thought. His work on freedom and politics is in alignment with his open QurގƗnic exegetical approach. His more recent view of the QurގƗn as a contextually-bound narrative is the logical extension of his thesis that the QurގƗn is the speech of Muতammad. This assumption, in turn, stands in direct relation to his hermeneutic convictions that every text/oration is influenced by prior knowledge, interests, and expectations of the author/speaker. Furthermore, Shabestari’s explanations on the interpretation of religion and religious texts should be understood as supra-confessional. Even if his starting point is Islam, his thoughts are applicable to religion in a general sense, and as a reader, one can translate these thoughts into one’s own cultural and religious context.
References Amirpur, Katajun, ed. Unterwegs zu einem anderen Islam: Texte iranischer Denker. Buchreihe der Georges-Anawati-Stiftung Religion und Gesellschaft 4. Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 2009. —. “Islam und Demokratie – Die Geschichte einer Aneignung.” Blätter für deutsche und internationale Politik 56, no. 11 (2011): 87–95. HƗshemi, Mohammad M. Din andishƗn-e motajadded. Rushanfekri-e dini az shariҵati tƗ malekyƗn. Tehran: s.n., 2006. Poya, Abbas. Anerkennung des I÷tihƗd – Legitimation der Toleranz. Möglichkeiten Innerer und außerer Toleranz im Islam am Beispiel der I÷tihƗd Diskussion. Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Verlag, 2003. —. Denken jenseits von Dichotomien. Iranisch-religiöse Diskurse im postkolonialen Kontext. Bielefeld: transcript, 2014.
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Sadri, S. Mahmoud. “Sacral Defense of Secularism: The Political Theologies of Soroush, Shabestari, and Kadivar.” International Journal of Politics, Culture and Society 15, no. 2 (2001): 257–70. Sarkohi, Arash. Der Demkoratie- und Menschenrechtsdiskurs der religiösen Reformer in Iran und die Universalität der Menschenrechte. Würzburg: Ergon, 2014. Shabestari, M. Mojtahed. Naqdi bar qerƗҴat-e rasmi az din. Tehran: Tarhe Nou, 2000a. —. Hermeneutik, ketƗb, sonnat. Tehran: Tarh-e Nou, 2000b. —. ImƗn wa ƗzƗdi. Tehran: Tarh-e Nou, 2000c. —. TaҴammolƗti dar qerƗҴat-e ensƗni az din. Tehran: Tarh-e Nou, 2004. —. “Demokratie und Religiösität [transl. by Katajun Amirpur].” In Katajun Amirpur, Unterwegs zu einem anderen Islam, 25–36. —. “Die Menschenrechte und das Verständnis der Religion [transl. by Katajun Amirpur].” In Katajun Amirpur, Unterwegs zu einem anderen Islam, 37–44. Vahdat, Farzin. “Post-revolutionary Islamic modernity in Iran: The intersubjective hermeneutics of Mohamad Mojtahed Shabestari.” In Modern Muslim intellectuals and the Qurގan. Edited by Suha TajiFarouki. Reprinted., 193–224. Qurގanic studies series 1. Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 2010. Wielandt, Rotraud. “Exegesis of the QurގƗn: Early Modern and Contemporary.” In Encyclopaedia of the QurҴƗn. Vol. 2. Edited by Jane D. McAuliffe. 5 vols. plus Index, 124–42. Leiden: Brill, 2001.
Internet http://de.qantara.de/content/interview-mit-mohammad-mojtahedshabestari-warum-islam-und-demokratie-zusammen-passen?qtnodes_popularity=2 (last accessed: March 25, 2016). http://mohammadmojtahedshabestari.com/biography.php (last accessed: Feb. 20, 2016). http://mohammadmojtahedshabestari.com/articles.php?id=159&title (last accessed: March, 20th, 2016). http://mohammadmojtahedshabestari.com/articles.php?id=229&title (last accessed, March 20, 2016). http://mohammadmojtahedshabestari.com/articles.php?id=299&title (last accessed: March, 30th, 2016). http://mohammadmojtahedshabestari.com/articles.php?id=300&title (last accessed: March, 30th, 2016).
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CONTRIBUTORS
Rana Alsoufi received her PhD in Islamic Law “Islamic Criminal Law” in 2012 from the University of Edinburgh. Currently, she is a post-doctoral researcher at the Department of Islamic-Religious-Studies at the FriedrichAlexander-Universität in Erlangen-Nuremberg, working on the use of qiyƗs as a legal method in Sunni Law. Yahia Baiza is a research associate in the Central Asian Studies Unit of the Institute of Ismaili Studies, London. He specialises in Afghan studies, especially education, religion and history. He received his doctorate (2010) and Master’s degree (2003) from the Department of Education, Oxford University. He also completed a two-year post-graduate programme in Islamic Studies and Humanities at the Institute of Ismaili Studies and School of Oriental and African Studies, London (1999–2001). He is the author of Education in Afghanistan: Developments, Influences and Legacies since 1901. Reza Hajatpour studied Islamic theology in Qom, Iran, as well as Islamic sciences, philosophy and political science in Heidelberg/Bonn, Germany, and Cairo, Egypt. In 2009 he completed his Habilitation entitled “From Divine-Conception to Self-Conception. The Idea of Perfectibility in Islamic Existential Philosophy”. After teaching as a substitute professor at the Eberhard Karls University in Tübingen for six months, Professor Hajatpour was appointed to the Chair of Islamic-Religious Studies at the Friedrich-Alexander-Universität in Erlangen-Nuremberg in October 2012. Benjamin Jokisch received his PhD in the field of Islamic Studies from the University of Hamburg (1994), where he also presented his Habilitation thesis (2005). Since 2012 he has been working as an academic assistant in the collaborative research area “Episteme in motion” at the Free University of Berlin. His research focuses on law, political theory and theology in early and classical Islam. Abbas Poya received his PhD in 2002 from the University of Hamburg and completed his Habilitation in 2014 at the University of Freiburg. Currently, he heads the Junior Research Group (Nachwuchsforschergruppe) “Norm, normativity and norm changes” at the Department of Islamic
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Religious Studies at the University of Erlangen-Nuremberg. Dr Poya has been a research associate at the Department of Islamic Studies at the University of Freiburg (2004-2010) and a Junior Fellow at the Freiburg Institute for Advanced Studies (2011-2012). He held a visiting professorship at the University of Freiburg (summer 2011) and at the University of Zurich (winter 2015-2016). Ruggero Vimercati Sanseverino obtained his PhD in 2012 from the University of Aix-Marseille in France. Since 2013 he has been employed at the Centre for Islamic Theology at the University of Tübingen as a lecturer and researcher, and since 2016 he holds a junior professorship in the sciences of ণadƯth at the same university. In 2014 he published the monograph Fès et sainteté, which presents the history of sainthood in the Moroccan religious capital of Fez based on a wide range of hagiographical sources. His research and teaching encompass Islamic prophetology in its theological, spiritual and philosophical dimensions, as well as the prophetic tradition related to the problem of tradition and hermeneutics in the (post-) modern context. Farid Suleiman received his Master’s degree in Islamic Studies with honours from Leiden University. Since 2013, he has been a PhD candidate and member of the Junior Research Group (Nachwuchsforschergruppe) “Norm, normativity and norm changes” at the Friedrich-AlexanderUniversität in Erlangen-Nuremberg. His dissertation is titled Die Attributenlehre des Ibn Taymiyya (Ibn Taymiyya’s Concept of the Divine Attributes). Samir Suleiman received his PhD in Political Science from the LudwigMaximilians-Universität Munich. He is the author of several books and a lecturer at Hebron University, West Bank. His research interests include the political and economic structures of states in the MENA region as well as modern and contemporary political thought. Abdullah Takim, born 1972 in Istanbul, has been Professor for Islamic Religion at the Institute for the Study of Islamic Culture and Religion at the Johann Wolfgang Goethe-Universität, Frankfurt am Main, since 2007. His dissertation was entitled Koranexegese im 20. Jahrhundert: islamische Tradition und neue Ansätze in Süleyman Ateú’s “Zeitgenössischem Korankommentar”. His research is dedicated to classic and modern QurގƗnic exegesis (tafsƯr), Islamic mysticism (ta܈awwuf), philosophy (falsafa) and ethics (akhlƗq). He also created the website http://www.kultur-
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gesundheit.de, which covers issues of medical ethics and bioethics in the context of the Islamic faith and pluralistic societies.
INDEX ޏAbd al-JabbƗr, al-QƗঌƯ 54 ޏAbd al-NƗৢir, JamƗl 65, 67, 86, 104 ޏAbduh, Muতammad 14, 29, 34, 56, 88, 90 Abnj Ghudda, ޏAbd al-FattƗত 67 Abnj ণanƯfa al-NuޏmƗn Ibn Muতammad (Fatimid jurist) See QƗڲƯ l-NuҵmƗn, alAbnj Zayd, Naৢr ণƗmid 5, 14, 19, 29 AfghƗnƯ, JamƗl ad-DƯn al- 29, 88, 90, 184 Aga Khan IV 152, 161, 167, 168, 169, 186 ޏAlawƯ, Shaykh Aতmad al- 182 AlbƗnƯ, NƗৢir al-DƯn al- 67 AmƯn, Aতmad 88 AmritsarƯ, ThanƗ ގAllƗh 35 Anbarco÷lu, Meliha 16 Arkoun, Mohammed 5, 29, 60, 198 ArslƗn, ShakƯb 14 Asad, BashshƗr al- 47, 58, 68, 99 Asad, ণƗfi al- 58 AshޏarƯ, Abnj l-ণasan al- 52, 53, 57, 80 Ashqar, ޏUmar al- 80, 81 Ateú, Süleyman 4, 5, 12, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 39, 40, 41, 42 Augustine 179 ޏAwda, ޏAbd al-QƗdir 103 Azraq, Muতammad Ibn al- 103 BannƗ, ণasan al- 64, 69, 71, 72, 76, 103 BƗqir, Muতammad al- 135, 142 BayhaqƯ, Abnj Bakr al- 79 Ben Ali, Zein El Abidin 85, 87 Bonaventure 179
Bourguiba, Habib 85, 87 Burckhardt, Titus 181, 188 Bnj৬Ư, Muতammad SaޏƯd RamaঌƗn al- 5, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60 Ça÷atay, Nihat 16 Chittick, William 176, 183 Cohen, Bernard 179 Coomaraswamy, Ananda 180, 188, 194 Corbin, Henry 184, 185, 189, 200, 203 DihlawƯ, ShƗh WalƯ AllƗh al- 19 During, Jean 183 FƗrƗbƯ, Abnj Naৢr Muতammad al145, 184 Farouk (King of Egypt) 182 FƗsƯ, ޏAllƗl al- 88 Gandhi, Mahatma 183 Ghannouchi, RƗchid al- 6, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95 GhazƗlƯ, Abnj ণƗmid al- 3, 54, 57, 58, 80, 90, 140, 181, 184, 192 GhazƗlƯ, Muতammad al- 60 Gibb, Sir Hamilton 179 Gilson, Etienne 185 Guénon, René 180, 181, 182, 184, 187, 188, 194, 203 Habermas, Jürgen 203 Hadot, Pierre 194 ণƗގirƯ YazdƯ, MahdƯ 136, 137, 138, 146 ণajjƗj Ibn Ynjsuf 65 ণƗkim bi-Amr AllƗh, al- 165 ণanafƯ, ণasan 88 HƗshimƯ, Muতammad al- 100 ণassnjn, Badr al-DƯn 52, 59 HawwƗ, Aতmad 102 ণawwƗ, MuޏƗdh 102, 103
232 ণawwƗ, Muতammad 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 107, 118, 119 HawwƗ, SaޏƯd 6, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 119 Heidegger, Martin 200, 201, 204 Hick, John 178 Hilmî Efendi, Hac Muharrem Srr 15 Ibn ޏAbd al-ޏAzƯz, ޏUmar 114 Ibn ޏAbd al-SalƗm, al-ޏIzz 124 Ibn al-ণazƗmiyƯn al-WƗsi৬Ư 78 Ibn al-JawzƯ 3, 75, 82 Ibn al-Jubayr, SaޏƯd 65 Ibn ޏArabƯ, Muতy l-DƯn 70 Ibn ণajar 79 Ibn ণakam, HishƗm 136 Ibn ণanbal, Aতmad 75 Ibn ণazm, Abnj Muতammad 3, 103 Ibn KathƯr 79, 82 Ibn Khaldnjn 103, 109, 112, 126 Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya 124, 126 Ibn Qutayba 76 Ibn Rushd, Abnj l-WalƯd 184 Ibn RnjzbihƗn KhunjƯ IৢfahƗnƯ, FaঌlallƗh 140 Ibn SƯnƗ, Abnj ޏAlƯ 184, 187, 190, 192, 196, 202 Ibn Surayj 74 Ibn Taymiyya 71, 72, 77, 78, 82, 90 Ibn ৫iq৬aqƗ 139 IqbƗl, Muতammad 88 Iqbal, Muzaffar 20, 176 Jahanbegloo, Ramin 176, 177 Jambet, Christian 194 Jellinek, Georg 152, 153 Junayd 78 JundƯ, Anwar al- 60 JuwaynƯ, Abnj l-MaޏƗlƯ al- 80 KabƯsƯ, Muতammad al- 74 Keklik, Nihat 16 Keller, Albert 222 Kha৬৬ƗbƯ, Abnj SulaymƗn al- 79 Khoury, Adel Theodor 34, 35, 41 KhnjlƯ, al-BahƯ al- 66
Index KhumaynƯ 101, 147, 185, 187 Khusraw, Nasir 166, 167 Krbaúo÷lu, Hayri 24 KuftƗrnj, Aতmad 52, 58 KulaynƯ, Muতammad al- 158, 159 Leaman, Oliver 189 Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm 179 Lings, Martin 176, 182 MaতmaৢৢƗnƯ, ৡubতƯ Rajab 6, 7, 121, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 130 MalekyƗn, MostafƗ 209 MarޏƯ, Zayn al-DƯn 71, 72, 73, 82 MƗturƯdƯ, Abnj Manৢnjr Muতammad al- 53 MƗwardƯ, Abnj l-ণasan al- 103, 111, 114, 117 MawdnjdƯ, Abnj l-AޏlƗ 88 MƗzirƯ, Abnj ޏAbd AllƗh al- 75, 76 MuޏƗwiya II 116 Muޏizz, al- 164 MullƗ ৡadrƗ 185, 187, 192, 194, 200, 202 Murata, Sachiko 183 Mustanৢir bi-AllƗh, al- 152, 159 Naqshband, BahƗ ގad-DƯn 15 NasafƯ, ޏAbdullah al- 103, 109 Nasr, Seyyed Hossein 7, 8, 174, 175, 176, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 186, 187, 188, 189, 190, 191, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 198, 199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205 NawawƯ, Abnj ZakariyƗ al- 75, 79 Nixon, Richard 117 Okiç, Tayyib 15, 16 Oppenheimer, Julius 201 Pahlavi, Farah (Empress) 187 Popper, Karl 187 QƗঌƯ l-NuޏmƗn, al- 159, 160 QaraঌƗwƯ, Ynjsuf al- 3, 5, 6, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 100
Unity and Diversity in Contemporary Muslim Thought QazwƯnƯ, Sayyid Abnj l-ণasan RafƯޏƯ al- 185 Qu৬b, Sayyid 64, 92 Rahman, Fazlur 5, 29, 34 RƗzƯ, Abnj Bakr al- 191 RƗzƯ, Fakhr al-DƯn al- 3, 80, 91, 193 Renan, Ernest 29, 184 RiঌƗ, RashƯd 14, 77, 81, 82, 88, 90, 91 RifƗޏƯ, ޏAbd al-KarƯm al- 100 Russell, Bertrand 14, 179 SƗbiq, al-Sayyid 68 SƗdƗt, Anwar al- 67 ৡƗdiq, Jaޏfar al- 135, 142, 151, 152, 159 ৡafwƗn, Jahm Ibn al- 72 Santillana, Giorgio De 178, 180 Sarton, George 179 Schelling, Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph 179 Schorch, Rabbi Izmar 188 Schuon, Frithjof 180, 181, 182, 188 Shabestari, Mohammad Mojtahed 8, 208, 209, 210, 211, 212, 213, 214, 215, 216, 217, 218, 219, 220, 221, 222, 223, 224, 225 ShƗfiޏƯ, Muতammad Ibn IdrƯs al126, 127, 193 ShahrastƗnƯ, Abnj l-Fatত al- 103, 109 Shaltnjt, Maতmud 55, 56, 66
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ShanqƯ৬Ư, Muতammad ibn al-ণasan al- 3 ShaޏrƗnƯ, Abnj l-ণasan 144, 145 Shariati, Ali 187, 198, 209 Shariޏati, Mohammad Taqi 208, 209 ShƗ৬ibƯ, Abnj IsতƗq al- 2, 124, 125 ShirƗzi, AyatollƗh MakƗrem 208, 209 ShƯrƗzƯ, Muގayyad fƯ-l-DƯn 159, 160, 161 SibƗޏƯ, Muৢ৬afƗ al- 50, 100 SobhƗni, AyatollƗh Jaޏfar 208, 209 Soroush, Abdolkarim 187, 209, 210, 212 SuhrawardƯ, ShihƗb al-DƯn 190, 192, 194, 199, 200, 202 Suynj৬Ư, JalƗl al-DƯn al- 103 ৫abarƗnƯ, Abnj l-QƗsim al- 2 ৫abƗ৬abƗގƯ, Muতammad ণusayn 143, 144, 185, 208 TƗleqƗni, Mahmud 208, 209 Thomas Aquinas 3, 179, 185 Tillich, Paul 178, 179 TurƗbƯ, ণasan al- 88 TurkƯ, ޏAbd AllƗh al- 67 ৫njsƯ, Abnj Jaޏfar Muতammad Ibn alণasan al- 137 ৫njsƯ, NaৢƯr al-DƯn al- 137, 145, 161 Ülken, Hilmi Ziya 15 WarrƗq, Muতammad al- 191 Weber, Max 152, 153, 154, 155 Wolfson, Harry 179