The Architects of Islamic Civilization

THE
ARCHITECTS
OF ISLAMIC
CIVILISATION
PELANDUK PUBLICATIONS (M) SDN BHD (113307-W)
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Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
ISLAM AND DIPLOMACY : THE QUEST FOR HUMAN SECURITY / Editors

Mohammad Hashim Kamali, Karim Douglas Crow, Elmira Akhmetova
Includes index
ISBN 978-967-978-990-4
1. Diplomacy—Religious aspects—Islam. 2. International Relations.
I. Mohammad Hashim Kamali. II. Crow, Karim Douglas.
III. Akhmetova, Elmira.
327.2
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THE
ARCHITECTS
OF ISLAMIC
CIVILISATION
Edited by
ALEXANDER WAIN
MOHAMMAD HASHIM KAMALI
CONTENTS
Introduction xi
Alexander Wain and Mohammad Hashim Kamali
Part One: The Formative Period
1. ‘Umar bin al-Khaṭṭāb (583CE-23AH/644CE)

Tawfique al-Mubarak 3
2. ‘Alī ibn Abī Ṭālib (599CE-40AH/661CE)

Apnizan Abdullah 10
3. ‘Ā’isha bint Abī Bakr (ca.613CE-58AH/678CE)

Eric Winkel 19
Part Two: The Classical Period
4. Ja‘far al-Ṣādiq (83-148AH/702-765CE)

Karim D. Crow 27
5. Abū Ḥanīfa Nu‘mān ibn Thābit (80–150AH/699–767CE)

Karim D. Crow 39
6. Mālik bin Anas al-Aṣbaḥī (ca.93-179AH/711-795CE)

vi THE ARCHITECTS OF ISLAMIC CIVILISATION
7. Muḥammad ibn Idrīs al-Shāfi‘ī (150-204AH/767-820CE)

Karim D. Crow and Mahbubi Ali 51
8. Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal (164-241AH/780-855CE)

Karim D. Crow and Mohd Fariz Zainal Abdullah 58
9. Muḥammad ibn Ismā‘īl al-Bukhārī (194-256AH/808-

870CE) 69
Karim D. Crow and Wan Naim Wan Mansor
10. Abū Yūsuf Ya‘qūb ibn Isḥāq al-Kindī (196-256AH/800-
870CE) 74
Karim D. Crow
11. Muslim ibn al-Ḥajjāj al-Nīsāpūrī (ca. 202-261AH/817-
875CE) 79
Ahmad Badri Abdullah
12. Muḥammad ibn Jarīr al-Ṭabarī (224-310AH/839-923CE)
Apnizan Abdullah 84
13. Abū Naṣr al-Fārābī (257-339AH/870-950CE)

Tengku Ahmad Hazri 95
14. Abū al-Ḥasan al-Mas‘ūdī (ca.282-345AH/896-956CE)

Karim D. Crow 101
15. Abū ‘Alī ibn Sīnā (369-429AH/980-1037CE)

Elmira Akhmetova 108
16. Abū al-Rayhān al-Bīrūnī (362-440AH/973-1048CE)

Daud Abdul-Fattah Batchelor 116
17. Abū Ḥasan al-Māwardī (364-450AH/974-1058CE)

Wan Naim Wan Mansor 131
18. Abū Muḥammad ‘Alī ibn Ḥazm (384-456AH/994-1064CE)

Wan Naim Wan Mansor and Eric Winkel 139
CONTENTS vii
19. Abū Ḥāmid al-Ghazālī (450-505AH/1058-1111CE)

Karim D. Crow 148
20. Abū al-Walīd ibn Rushd al-Qurtubī (520-596AH/1126-

1198CE) 157
Tengku Ahmad Hazri
21. Muḥy al-Dīn ibn ‘Arabī (560-638AH/1165-1240CE)
Ahmad Badri Abdullah 164
22. ‘Izz al-Dīn ibn ‘Abd al-Salām al-Sulāmī (578-660AH/1182-

1263CE) 170
23. Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī (603-672AH/1207-1273CE)

Abdul Karim Abdullah 179
24. Taqī al-Dīn ibn Taymiyyah (661-728AH/1263-1328CE)

Mohd Fariz Zainal Abdullah 187
25. Ibn Qaiyyim al-Jawziyya (691-751AH/1292-1350CE)

26. Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm al-Shāṭibī (ca.720-790AH/1320-1388CE)

27. ‘Abd al-Raḥmān ibn Khaldūn (732-808AH/1332-1406CE)

Part Three: From Early Modernity

to the Twentieth Century
28. Hamzah al-Fansuri (d.ca.1602CE)

Alexander Wain 219
viii THE ARCHITECTS OF ISLAMIC CIVILISATION
29. Liu Zhi (ca.1670-1739CE)

Alexander Wain 227
30. Shāh Walī Allāh al-Dihlawī (1703-1762CE)

Tengku Ahmad Hazri 234
31. Muḥammad Amīn ibn ‘Ābidīn (1784-1836CE)

Muhammad Farid ‘Ali 240
32. Muḥammad b. ‘Alī al-Shawkānī (1759-1839CE)

Mohammed Farid Ali 246
33. Muḥammad ‘Abduh (ca.1849-1905CE)

Alexander Wain 252
34. Tok Kenali (Muhammad Yusof ) (1868-1933CE)

Hakimah Yacoob and M. Fakhrurrazi Ahmad 264
35. Musa Jarullah Bigiyev (1875-1949CE)

36. Bediüzzaman Said Nursi (1877-1960CE)

Karim D. Crow 277
37. Muḥammad al-Ṭāhir ibn ‘Āshūr (1879-1973CE) 283

Eric Winkel
38. Malek Bennabi (1905-1973CE)

Mohamed Azam Mohamed Adil 288
39. Muḥammad Abū Zahra (1898-1974CE)

Mohammad Hashim Kamali 297
40. ‘Ali Shariati (1933-1977CE)

Alexander Wain 304
CONTENTS ix
41. Sayyid Abul A’la al-Mawdudi (1903-1979CE)

Wan Naim Wan Mansor 312
42. Hamka (Haji Abdul Malik Karim Amrullah)

(1908-1981CE)
M. Fakhrurrazi Ahmad 321
43. Fazlur Rahman (1919-1988CE)

Abdul Karim Abdullah 328
Index 336
INTRODUCTION
In Ramadān 610CE, a solitary figure ascended the side of Jabal al-Nūr
(The Mountain of Light) near Makkah. Leaving the dusty city far behind,
the figure weaved through the many rocks and boulders strewn across the
mountainside, picking out a familiar path to a cave called Ḥirā. For some
time, this man, a Qurayshī merchant from the city below,1 had taken to
secluding himself in this remote spot, far away from prying eyes. Disgusted
by the injustices and immorality of the world below,2 he frequently
sought solitude, sometimes for days at a time and without rest, in order
to contemplate God and ask for guidance. On this particular occasion,
however, his contemplations would result in something unexpected.
After taking himself to Ḥirā, this lone individual began his customary
meditations until, in the early hours, he fell asleep.3 As he slept, he
experienced a vision: on the highest part of the horizon, the angel Jibrīl
(Gabriel in English) appeared and began to approach him, stopping
within a distance of just two bow lengths or less.4 Towering over the prone
figure, Jibrīl commanded him to “Read!” When the terrified man replied
that he was unable to read, Jibrīl seized him and pressed him very hard,
until he could no longer bear it.5 This happened twice more, after which
Jibrīl commanded the man to recite the following:
Read! In the name of your Lord who created, created man from a
clot (of blood). Read! And your Lord is the most bounteous, who
taught by the pen, taught man that which he knew not!6
As all Muslims know, this event changed history. The Makkan
merchant who encountered Jibrīl that night in 610 was, of course, the
Prophet Muḥammad (pbuh) and the words he repeated were the first
of a series of revelations (waḥy) from God (Allāh) that would ultimately
become the text of the Qur’ān (lit. ‘recitation’) and the basis of the religion
of al-Islām (lit. ‘the way of submission’). From the point of this first
visitation onwards, Muḥammad propagated his new religion ceaselessly,
calling on the people of Makkah to pray only to God, to return evil only
with good, to sacrifice for others, and to never comprise on what they
knew to be right and just. The Makkans, however, and although they
xii THE ARCHITECTS OF ISLAMIC CIVILISATION
had previously considered Muḥammad to be a man of impeccable moral

character, even giving him the nickname al-Amīn (the trustworthy), could
not accept his new religion or its break with tradition.7 Instead, they began
to persecute both him and those few Makkans who followed him, finally
compelling these first Muslims to leave Makkah altogether in 622. This
event, known as the Hijra (‘migration’), marked the Prophet’s departure
for Madinah some 418km to the north. It also marked the beginning
of a great transformation in the life of the nascent Muslim community;
no longer a minority group subject to a hostile majority, they became a
distinct community of their own. For that reason, the Hijra traditionally
marks the beginning of the Islamic calendar.
Throughout the subsequent years of his ministry, the Prophet
continued to preach Islam to all the peoples of Arabia, as well as to those
from further afield. Islam, he said, was a universal message that upheld
the equality of all peoples (cf. 17:70 and 49:13), a stance that he would
maintain throughout his life-time, most notably during his renowned
Farewell Sermon, delivered at Arafat (near Makkah) in 632:
O People! Verily your Lord is one, and your ancestor is one. You
all come from Adam and Adam was created from the earth. The
most noble of you in the sight of God is one who is the most pious
among you. No Arab has any superiority over a non-Arab, nor a red
over a black, except through piety...The distinctions of the Days of
Ignorance are abolished.8
Perhaps in line with the universality of his message, Muḥammad never
claimed a monopoly over prophecy. On the contrary, he maintained that
God had previously sent messengers to all the peoples of the earth, citing
as examples figures like ’Ādam, Nūḥ (Noah), Idrīs (Enoch), Ibrāhīm
(Abraham), Mūsā (Moses), Dā’ūd (David), and ‘Īsā (Jesus), amongst
others. In the context of these earlier messengers, Muḥammad saw himself
as a ‘restorer’ or ‘reviver’ of an Eternal Truth that had since suffered either
oblivion or distortion. Certainly, the Prophet did not consider himself above
the laws that he conveyed to his followers. On the contrary, he practiced
Islam more rigorously than anyone else, praying and fasting regularly,
giving more in charity than was exacted from others, and generally leading
an ascetic life. Nevertheless, he also emphasised that a believer’s state of
mind and heart were more important than the externalities of his conduct.
Thus, he reportedly said of one of his closest Companions, Abū Bakr, that:
“He surpasses you [other Companions] not through much fasting and
prayer but…in virtue of something that is fixed in his heart.”
INTRODUCTION xiii
Although the Prophet argued that the truth underlying earlier religious
messages had been lost, he showed profound respect for the followers of
earlier revelations, particularly the Jews and Christians (known in Islam as
the Ahl al-Kitāb, or ‘People of the Book’). When, for example, a delegation
of sixty Nestorian Christians from the Yemeni town of Najran visited
Madinah to make a pact with the Prophet, he entertained them at his
mosque and freely listened to their arguments and doctrinal views. On one
occasion, when the time for their prayer arrived, he even allowed them to
pray in the mosque – which they did, facing towards the east. At the end
of their stay, the Prophet made a favourable treaty with them according to
which, and in return for the payment of taxes, they were to have the full
protection of the Islamic state.9
The Prophet was even-tempered and compassionate, even with
his enemies, frequently praying that God would forgive them for their
misdeeds. Hence, the Qur’an described him as a noble messenger,
endowed with a sublime character, faithful to his promises and loyal to
his Companions and friends. Indeed, the Prophet developed a particularly
close relationship with his Companions, enjoying exceptional loyalty and
support. The voluntary conversion of ‘Umar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb, for example,
one of the most gifted of the Qurayshī youth and initially a fierce opponent
of Muḥammad’s, speaks volumes about the Prophet’s abilities of persuasion
and appeal. The respect the Prophet commanded also manifested itself in
a tendency amongst his Companions to imitate the details of his daily life,
such as his choice of clothing, manner of eating, sitting, grooming, and
so forth. This was despite a Qur’anic injunction limiting the Prophet’s
mission to conveying God’s message alone and not burdening the people
with an insistence that they follow his personal mannerisms. The Prophet
often spoke highly of his Companions: after his return to Makkah, he
heard Khālid ibn Walīd, an eminent army commander, argue angrily with
‘Abd al-Raḥmān ibn ‘Awf. The Prophet said: “Gently Khalid; let be [one
of ] my Companions. For if you had Mount Uhud all in gold and spent
it in the way of God, you would not attain the merit of any man of my
Companions.”10
Although forgiving towards his enemies, the Prophet could also be
exceptionally brave and resolute in the face of danger. Martin Lings, author
of a widely-recognised book on the Prophet’s life, recounts an episode at
the Battle of Uhud, a conflict between the Muslims and Makkans that took
place outside Madinah during the second year of the Hijra (624). During
the battle, a Makkan called Ubayy, whose brother Umayya had just been
killed, swore from the back of his horse that he would kill the Prophet
xiv THE ARCHITECTS OF ISLAMIC CIVILISATION
in retaliation. Upon hearing this, some of the Companions made ready

to attack Ubayy. The Prophet, however, ordered them not to. Instead, he
took a spear from Ḥārith ibn al-Ṣimma and stepped in front of them all.
Not daring to move, they looked on in awe at his grim and deadly earnest
countenance. As one of them said: “When the Messenger of God made
a deliberate effort toward some end, there was no earnestness that could
compare with his.”11 Ubayy approached with drawn sword but, before he
could strike, the Prophet thrust the spear into his neck: “[Ubayy] bellowed
like a bull, then swayed and almost fell from his horse but, recovering his
balance he galloped...until he reached the Meccan camp. ‘Muhammad has
slain me,’ he said. They looked at his wound and made light of it, but he
was convinced that it was mortal, as indeed it soon proved to be.”12
By the end of the Prophet’s lifetime, Islam had grown from strength to
strength. Just eight years after being forced to flee Makkah, the Prophet
and his followers triumphantly retook their hometown and forgave their
former enemies. When the Prophet died in 632, Islam had spread across the
Arabian Peninsula, uniting previously warring tribes into a single ummah
(or ‘community’). Under his first four successors, known collectively as
the Rightly Guided Caliphs (al-Khulafā, al-Rāshidūn), Islam spread across
the Middle East, subduing the Persian Empire in the east and dismantling
the Byzantine Empire in the west. From that point on, Islam became not
only one of the world’s major religious traditions, but also one of its great
civilisations. With few means, a humble Makkan merchant who had suffered
in countless ways laid the foundations for a new chapter in human history.
Over the succeeding one thousand years, Islam continued to expand.
Spreading throughout the known world, by the seventeenth century
Muslim rule extended over not just the Middle East, but also large
swathes of Europe, Africa, Central Asia, India, and Southeast Asia. Even
in remotest China, Muslims had come to constitute a powerful and well-
respected minority, capable of exerting significant political, cultural and
economic influence during the Song (960-1279), Yuan (1271-1368) and
Ming (1368-1644) dynasties.
Moreover, this global pre-eminence was accompanied by a flowering
of Muslim culture. In tune with the first revelation received by the
Prophet Muḥammad, which stressed the scholarly activities of reading
and writing, Islam used the wealth and power it accumulated over its first
millennium of existence to facilitate religious, philosophical, scientific, and
artistic enquiry. In short, at its height Islam became the most culturally
advanced civilisation in the world. Only Imperial China (and then only
intermittently) could claim to rival it.
INTRODUCTION xv
Consequently, when Portugal and Spain initiated Europe’s ‘Age of

Discovery’ in the late fifteenth century, the world they sailed into was
Muslim dominated. While Christian culture found itself largely confined
to a relatively impoverished and intellectually backward Europe, Muslims
could travel from Morocco in the west to Indonesia in the east without
leaving a prosperous and intellectually dynamic world in which people
based their lives around the teachings of the Prophet Muḥammad. The
book you are about to read, entitled The Architects of Islamic Civilisation,
seeks to outline the life, thought and significance of some of the most
important figures to help define that world. Additionally, it also considers
a number of more contemporary thinkers who, in the wake of Islam’s
decline over the past four centuries, have sought to recapture something
of the intellectual vigour of earlier times. In total, therefore, our volume
contains the biographies of forty-three prominent Muslim intellectuals,
the first of whom died in 644 (just twelve years after the Prophet) and
the last in 1988. Each played (and, in most instances, continues to play) a
pivotal role in the construction, definition and (latterly) reform of Islamic
civilisation. Together, they provide a comprehensive picture of Islam’s
intellectual history, collectively charting how this civilisation developed
over time, from its earliest days of expansion to the current period of
Western-driven globalisation.
Arranged chronologically, our volume is divided into three sections.
The first deals with three key figures from the formative period of Islamic
civilisation: the two Rightly Guided Caliphs, ‘Umar al-Khaṭṭāb and ‘Alī
ibn Abī Ṭālib, and the wife of the Prophet, ‘Ā’isha bint Abī Bakr. Perhaps
more than any of their contemporaries, these three figures helped shape
the immediate legacy of the Prophet. By embodying his example in their
own actions, they preserved and passed down his teachings. Equally, by
helping to drive forward the territorial expansion of Islam, they also laid
the foundations of Islam as a world power.
Our second (and largest) section deals with the one thousand years
immediately following the death of the Prophet, when Islam remained the
world’s dominant cultural, political and economic force. This period saw the
development of a vibrant intellectual tradition. In particular, it witnessed
the consolidation of Sunni and Shia Islam as distinct sectarian entities,
the formation of the major Islamic law schools, and the development
of Islam’s rich mystical tradition. It also saw the creation of a range of
secular scholarly traditions, in fields as varied as philosophy, science,
geography, medicine and history. To encompass this extremely diverse and
wide-ranging intellectual legacy, this section contains entries on twenty-
xvi THE ARCHITECTS OF ISLAMIC CIVILISATION
four separate individuals, including all four founders of the major Sunni
law schools (Abū Ḥanīfa Nu‘mān ibn Thābit, Mālik bin Anas al-Aṣbaḥī,
Muḥammad ibn Idrīs al-Shāfi‘ī and Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal), the period’s key
traditionalists (Muḥammad ibn Ismā‘īl al-Bukhārī and Muslim ibn Ḥajjāj
al-Nīshāpūrī), historians (Muḥammad ibn Jarīr al-Ṭabarī, Abū al-Ḥasan
al-Mas‘ūdī, and ‘Abd al-Raḥmān ibn Khaldūn), philosophers (Abū Yūsuf
Ya‘qūb ibn Isḥāq al-Kindī, Abū Naṣr al-Fārābī, Abū ‘Alī ibn Sīnā and Abū
al-Walīd ibn Rushd al-Qurtubī)13 and mystics (Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī and
Muḥy al-Dīn ibn ‘Arabī). In order to present a balanced view, we also
include an entry on the key Shia figure and Imam, Ja‘far al-Ṣādiq.
In our third and final section, we deal with some of Islam’s most
prominent post-eighteenth-century scholars. As mentioned, this period
coincides with Islam’s decline. Perhaps because of this, many of the
intellectuals covered in this final section are concerned with renewal
(tajdīd) and reform (islāh).
. . From Shāh Walī Allāh al-Dihlawī to Fazlur
Rahman, they evince a common concern: the rejuvenation of Islamic
civilisation. Perhaps more than the other two sections, therefore, this final
one presents modern-day Muslims with substantial food for thought.
In an era when non-Muslims perceive Islam as being synonymous with
bloodshed, oppression and extremism, this section provides a range of
important insights into how this religion can regain its former glory.
Although each thinker differs on the specifics of their vision for a reformed
Islam, they share a common demand: the rejection of blind obedience
to past tradition (taqlīd) in favour of embracing independent reasoning
(ijtihād). Often this plea is combined with an emphasis on moderation
(wasaṭiyya) as the true and most comprehensive cornerstone of Islam.14
The attentive reader cannot fail to appreciate how this scheme constitutes
a far more accurate reflection of the Islamic tradition as embodied in
the thought and values of its earliest figures than the deeds of the many
terrorists who today claim to act in the name of Islam while perpetrating
unspeakable acts of barbarism worldwide.
Throughout this volume, every effort has been made to transliterate
Arabic terms and personal names accurately. Where an Arabic word has
become commonly used in the English language, however, the English
form of that word has been utilised instead (i.e. fatwa not fatwā, ulama
not ‘ulamā’, imam not imām etc.). Similarly, the internationally recognised
spellings of Arabic place names are used in preference to their transliterated
forms. It should also be noted that non-Arabic languages written in the
Arabic script (i.e. Persian, Urdu and Classical Malay) have not been
transliterated. Concerning dating formats, for the formative and classical
INTRODUCTION xvii
periods of Islamic history both the Hijra and Common Era (CE) dates are
provided. Following modern scholarly conventions, however, the modern
period (defined as the eighteenth century onwards) is represented by
only CE dates. Finally, the traditional salutations of “peace be upon him”
(ṣallallāhu ‘alayhi wa sallam) for the Prophet and “may God be please with
them” (raḍiyallāhu ‘anhu) for his Companions have been omitted. This is
to accommodate the use of the English language, which is burdened by
repetitions of this sort. Nevertheless, the reader should understand the
relevant phrases as being present in all cases.
As a last word, we would like to extend our hearty congratulations and
thanks to all those who kindly took the time to contribute to this volume.
Most of our contributors are either past or present research fellows of the
International Institute for Advanced Islamic Studies (IAIS) Malaysia. In
particular, we would like to thank former IAIS Principal Fellow, Dr. Karim
D. Crow, who was the initial coordinator of this project. He has also
personally contributed a large number of the most important entries. It
should be noted, however, that this work was completed over a long period
of time, during which many contributors left IAIS Malaysia for career or
personal reasons. In the later stages of the project, it was therefore difficult
to enlist their continued involvement in reviewing and adjusting certain
aspects of their contributions. Nevertheless, and although some variations
in size, style and format may still be noticeable between entries, we hope
they are satisfied with the result.
As large as this project is, and despite the best efforts of our contributors,
the range and scope of Islam’s intellectual history means that, ultimately,
the entries provided cannot be an exhaustive list. To a large extent, our
selection was determined by the contributions that were made available
to us. We do plan, however, to work on a follow-up volume designed to
supplement our existing selection.
Once again, we would like to record a note of appreciation to all the
scholars and support staff of IAIS Malaysia, without whom this project
could not have been completed. We hope that the efforts of all those
involved will assist in conveying something of the richness and variety of
Islamic civilisation, both to Muslims and non-Muslims alike.
Alexander Wain
Mohammad Hashim Kamali
Editors
xiv THE ARCHITECTS OF ISLAMIC CIVILISATION
Notes:
1. To quote from the Qur’an, during this period Makkah was “a valley without
agriculture” (14:37). Most of its inhabitants were therefore engaged in commerce.
Indeed, during the seventh century, trade between Europe, India and China passed
through Arabia, with the tribe of the Quraysh playing a significant role in its
transhipment. They concluded commercial treaties with, among others, the Negus
of Abyssinia and the Kindi ruler of Yemen. Each year they would also travel to Syria,
Egypt, and Iraq. See, Muhammad Hamidullah, The Life and Work of the Prophet of
Islam, vol. 1, ed. and trans. Mahmood Ahmad Ghazi (Islamabad: Islamic Research
Institute, 1998), 5 and 17.
2. During this period the Arabian Peninsula was rife with corruption and lawlessness,
marked by such barbarities as infanticide, live burial of female infants, unlimited
polygamy and a total disregard for women’s rights.
3. The account given by Ibn Isḥāq claims the Prophet was asleep when he received his
vision of Jibrīl, see Ibn Isḥāq, The Life of Muhammad (Sīrat Rasūl Allāh), trans. A.
Guillaume (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1967), 96.
4. Qur’an 53:4-6.
5. Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī, Book 1, Hadith 3.
6. Qur’an 96:1-5.
7. Muhammad Yunus and Ashfaque Ullah Syed, Essential Message of Islam, ed. Afra Jalabi
(Beltsville, MD: Amana Publications, 2009), 45-7. Although the Islamic sources
suggest the people of Makkah, in addition to those inhabiting the surrounding
Hijaz region of Western Arabia, preserved some memory of their connection to
monotheism via the prophet Ismā’īl, son of Ibrāhīm and brother to Isḥāq (Isaac, from
whom the Jews claim descent), by the seventh century they had become polytheists.
Moreover, the Hijaz had never been conquered by a foreign force, leaving it relatively
untouched by the religious upheavals of surrounding regions, the energies and talent
of its inhabitants untapped.
8. For the full text of this Farewell Sermon, see Hamidullah, Life and Work of the Prophet,
vol. 1, 202-5.
9. Martin Lings, Muhammad: His Life Based on the Earliest Sources, rev. ed. (Cambridge:
The Islamic Text Society, 1991), 326.
10. Cited in Ibid, 329.
11. Ibid, 187.
12. Ibid.
13. In the Western tradition, the last two of these figures are known as Avicenna and
Averroes respectively.
14. Concerning this particular theme, see Mohammad Hashim Kamali’s seminal
contribution, The Middle Path of Moderation in Islam: The Qur’anic Principle of
Wasatiyyah (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 328. Also see Kamali’s writings
on the schools of Islamic law, taqlīd and ijtihād, particularly Shari’ah Law: An
Introduction (Oxford: Oneworld, 2008), 3.
Part One
The Formative Period

1
‘Umar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb
(583CE-23AH/644CE)
Tawfique al-Mubarak
‘Umar’s full name was ‘Umar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb ibn Nufayl ibn ‘Abdul ‘Uzzā.
He was born into the Adi clan of the Makkan Quraysh tribe thirteen
years after the Year of the Elephant, or in around 583CE. The Prophet
Muḥammad was born in the Year of the Elephant itself, therefore making
‘Umar thirteen years younger than him. Their lineages converge with
each other at ‘Umar’s ninth ancestor, Ka’b ibn Lu‘ayy ibn Ghālib. When
his daughter, Ḥafsa, married the Prophet, ‘Umar also became the latter’s
father-in-law. His agnomen was Abū Ḥafs, probably from his first child
Ḥafsa’s name. His mother, Hantama bint Hāshim, was the paternal cousin
of Abū Jahl ibn Hishām, who was amongst the staunchest enemies of Islam
and the Prophet.
Nufayl ibn ‘Abdul ‘Uzzā, ‘Umar’s grandfather, was a reputable
personality and was often referred to for judgments and consultations.
‘Umar was therefore brought up in a prominent family, in an environment
of knowledge and learning. This might have influenced ‘Umar in his own
quest for knowledge. Certainly, he was amongst the very few people in
pre-Islamic Arabia who could read and write. He also had a great passion
for poetry – he memorised a great number of poems, both by the poets
of ancient times and his contemporaries, and would often quote them
spontaneously. This indicates that he was a sharp man, with a brilliant
memory. He was very eloquent, clear in his speech, persuasive, wise
and forbearing. For these reasons, the Quraysh nominated him as their
ambassador, marking his eminence and supremacy within the tribe.
His father, Khaṭṭāb, was a very harsh man, which ‘Umar remembered
throughout his life. He also remembered how he used to tend his father’s
livestock and gather firewood for him – tasks he also carried out for his
4 THE ARCHITECTS OF ISLAMIC CIVILISATION
maternal aunts. After he became caliph, ‘Umar once told the people about
this earlier occupation and how, after tending the flocks for his aunt from
the Banū Makhzūm, he would receive just a handful of dates and raisins
as payment – that, he said, was all he had to eat for the whole day! When
‘Abd al-Raḥmān ibn ‘Awf asked him why he denigrated himself in front
of the people by telling them this, ‘Umar told him that it was meant to
remind him about his past, to kill the pride and haughtiness popping up in
his heart. Such was the strength of personality of the caliph ‘Umar.
During the early days of Islam, ‘Umar was a stern opponent of the
Prophet. Along with the other Quraysh leaders, he would mercilessly
persecute those people who accepted Islam. Umm ‘Abd Allāh bint
Hantama described how, while she was migrating to Ethiopia, ‘Umar
went to her and asked her why she was leaving Makkah. She replied that
it was due to the unbearable treatment he was doling out to both her and
the other Muslims. Although ‘Umar was touched by her words, he did not
modify his behaviour: soon afterwards he decided to kill the Prophet and
the latter’s close companions at a meeting with the Quraysh leaders. For
this purpose, he headed towards Dār al-Arqam, beside Mount Ṣafā, where
the Prophet and his companions were in hiding. On his way, however, he
met Nu’aim ibn ‘Abd Allāh, who tried to stop him. They both argued and,
while trying to stop ‘Umar, Nu’aim informed him that his sister, brother-
in-law, and cousins had all accepted Islam. Upon hearing this, ‘Umar ran
to his sister’s house and burst in while she and her husband were reciting
parts of sūra al-Ṭā Hā (chapter 20). He attacked them, hitting his sister
in the face and making her bleed. ‘Umar immediately regretted this and,
after calming down, asked them to give him what they were reading. His
sister, however, refused to hand the Qur’anic fragment over to him unless
he purified himself. After he had done so, he read the sūra and was so
deeply moved by its message that he promptly went to the Prophet and
declared his faith in Islam. He was the fortieth person to accept Islam.
Traditionally, his conversion has been seen as a response to the Prophet’s
supplication to Allah that Islam be supported by either Abū Jahl ibn
Hishām or ‘Umar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb. Upon accepting Islam, ‘Umar decided
to preach the message of truth openly and in public. For his courage
and boldness, the Prophet gave him the title al-Fārūq (the differentiator
between truth and falsehood).
‘Umar’s Islamic education was earned at the hands of the Prophet. He
was amongst the Prophet’s closest companions and would often enquire
about Islam, later transmitting the knowledge he gained to others.
In particular, ‘Umar would often ask the Prophet about his opinions
‘UMAR IBN AL-KHAṬṬĀB 5
regarding certain Qur’anic verses. Moreover, ‘Umar frequently offered

his own personal reasoning (ijtihād). In fact, there are several instances of
Qur’anic verses revealed in confirmation of ‘Umar’s opinions: Ṣaḥīḥ al-
Bukhārī reports a tradition from ‘Umar in which he said that:
My opinion coincided with that of my Lord (Allah) in three matters.
I said ‘O Messenger of Allah, why don’t you take maqām Ibrāhīm
[the station of Ibrahim, located near the Ka’ba in Makkah] as a place
for prayer?’ Then Allah revealed that. And I said ‘O Messenger of
Allah, both righteous and immoral people visit you, why don’t you
tell the Mothers of the believers to observe ḥijāb? And Allah revealed
the verse of ḥijāb. And I heard that the Messenger of Allah had
rebuked some of his wives, so I went to them and said ‘either you
stop, or Allah will give His Messenger wives better than you…then
Allah revealed the verse of sūra al-Tahrīm (66:5).1
In addition to these examples, when the Prophet was asked to offer a
funeral prayer for ‘Abd Allāh ibn Ubay, one of the munāfiqūn (hypocrites),
‘Umar went to him to try and prevent him from doing so. The Prophet,
however, simply smiled before proceeding with the funeral. But later, the
Qur’anic verse 9:84 was revealed, prohibiting the Prophet from joining
the funeral prayer of any of the hypocrites or of standing by their graves
to pray for them.
These points of agreement reflect the Prophetic statement: “Among the
nations before you were some people who were inspired [muhaddathūn].
If anyone among my ummah [people] were to be inspired, it would be
‘Umar.”2 The scholar Ibn Hajar al-Asqalānī (d.852/1448) considers the
word muhaddath to imply any of four things: a. someone who is inspired,
b. someone who speaks the truth spontaneously, c. someone to whom
angels speak without him being a prophet, or d. someone with intuition.3
The correspondence between ‘Umar’s opinions and the Qur’an’s indicates
that ‘Umar was a possessor of muhaddath. This rare characteristic closely
affiliated him with the Prophet and – given that none of the other
companions received it – rendered ‘Umar an unmatchable honour.
Upon consultation with the prominent companions, Abū Bakr (Islam’s
first caliph, d.13/634) appointed ‘Umar to succeed him. Indeed, ‘Umar’s
leadership of the Muslim community had been predicted by the Prophet,
and is described in several narrations. One, recorded in Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim,
reports that the Prophet said: “While I was sleeping, I saw myself drawing
water from a well with a bucket. Abū Bakr came and drew a bucket or
two…Then ‘Umar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb came and the bucket in his hands
turned into a very large one. I had never seen anyone so strong…all the
people drank their fill and watered their camels that knelt down there.”4
This hadith foretold the rule of the two prominent companions of the
Prophet and implied that ‘Umar, by serving people with a large bucket of
water, would strengthen Islam more than any of his predecessors. Indeed,
it is undoubtedly true that ‘Umar’s rule saw Islam expand right across the
Middle East. He also ushered in a period of governance based upon virtue,
piety and wisdom. He was the first Muslim ruler to bear the title Amīr al-
Mu’minīn (Commander of the Faithful).
As a leading companion, ‘Umar’s contributions to Islamic civilisation
remain unsurpassed. His wisdom and foresight, his guidance and just
rule, his integrity and sincerity render him one of the most prominent
architects of Islamic civilisation. To give some examples of his specific
contributions, it was upon his suggestion (and in consultation with the
caliph Abū Bakr) that the Qur’an was first compiled into a complete
volume; ‘Umar saw the necessity of such a compilation after many
the Companions who had memorised the Qur’an died in the battle of
Yamāma (11/632). During his own rule, ‘Umar established the city of
the Prophet, Madinah, as the centre of fatwa (legal verdicts and opinions)
and fiqh (Islamic jurisprudence). He kept those Companions who were
known for their knowledge and legal opinions close to him in Madinah.
Leading scholars from amongst the Companions were also dispatched to
other cities, in order to teach the people about Islam. For example, ‘Umar
sent ‘Abd Allāh ibn Mas’ud, Hudhayfa ibn al-Yamān, ‘Ammār ibn Yāsir,
‘Imrān ibn Ḥusayn and Salmān al-Fārsī to Iraq. Likewise, Mu‘ādh ibn
Jabal, ‘Ubāda ibn al-Ṣāmit, Abū al-Dardā’, Bilāl ibn Rabāḥ and others
went to Syria, where they established Homs, Damascus and Palestine as
top centres of learning. ‘Umar would often communicate with them and
supervise their legal opinions. For their part, they would refer issues back
to him if they found them difficult to resolve.
‘Umar b. al-Khaṭṭāb also had direct influence over the establishment of
the first prominent schools of fiqh in Makkah, Basra, Kufa, and Syria. For
example, he personally chose and trained ‘Abd Allāh ibn ‘Abbās, the future
leader of the Makkan School, keeping him in his consultative circle and
grooming him as a leading mufassir (exegete of the Qur’an). Likewise, Abū
Mūsā al-Ash‘arī and Anas bin Mālik, the forerunners of the Basran School,
were both close companions of ‘Umar during their stay in Madinah.
Additionally, ‘Amr ibn al-‘Āṣ, along with his sons, ‘Abd Allāh and ‘Uqba,
were sent by ‘Umar to Egypt, where they became influential scholars in the
formation of the Egyptian School. ‘Umar would also often send scholars to
the army before it was dispatched in order to teach the soldiers about Islam
and guide them according to the Prophetic method. He was influential
in formulating the concept of qiyās (legal analogy), often writing to his
governors and judges to recommend the implementation of this legal
principle in cases where there were no precedents in either the Qur’an or
Sunna (Prophetic example). Caliph’s ‘Umar’s own legal opinions became
so popular that they were compiled into two volumes, including Rawās
Qal‘ajī’s Mawsū‘at fiqh ‘Umar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb (The Encyclopaedia of ‘Umar
ibn al-Khaṭṭāb’s Jurisprudence). In addition to these points, ‘Umar was
the first person to formally organise the night prayers (tarāwīh) during the
month of Ramaḍān (the month of fasting).
During his long tenure as caliph, ‘Umar al-Khaṭṭāb also successfully
introduced many administrative innovations. He was, for example, the
first person to introduce an Islamic calendar based on the Arabic months
and beginning with the Prophet’s migration from Makkah to Madinah.
He also introduced the bayt al-māl (public treasury), from which public
welfare funds, stipends for the poor, and government salaries were paid.
During the era of his predecessors, there had been no need for a bayt al-māl,
as the Islamic state had been very small and wealth could be distributed
immediately. As the territorial domains of Islam spread, however, the need
for a more systematic method of payment developed. Notably, ‘Umar gave
government stipends to poor non-Muslim citizens.
Caliph ‘Umar also established judicial courts, learning centres, and a
government department tasked with controlling markets. He introduced
appropriate salaries for judges, teachers, soldiers, public servants and
governors. His fear of misappropriation and corruption motivated him to
open a public department for dealing with complaints against government
officials. He was the first to introduce land taxation (kharaj) in Islamic
territories. As the borders of the Islamic world spread further, he also
sought to organise it more efficiently, dividing the new empire into
administrative divisions based around cities. He also established new cities
and provided incentives for cultivating barren land. This facilitated the
rebuilding of societies beyond the major cities and enhanced the state’s
general economic condition.
Caliph ‘Umar was also the first Muslim ruler to dig canals, notably
between the Tigris River and the city of Basra. These were designed to
provide cities with water, both for drinking and irrigation. Bridges, roads
and highways were likewise constructed under ‘Umar. He also introduced
the concept of way-stations (dār al-daqīq – lit. ‘house of floor’, implying
food for travellers) and established a postal service, a police force, a
department of records (where detailed records of public servants and

soldiers were kept), and a public census.
One of the fundamental rights ‘Umar al-Khaṭṭāb ensured for his
subjects was freedom of expression. In his first address as caliph, he
stressed the right of the people to criticise him and, if necessary, unseat
him should he deviate from the right path. Indeed, he was once questioned
by a layman about a piece of cloth he had used to stitch his dress; the
layman had noticed that it was longer than the shares of cloth received by
other people. ‘Umar’s son, Abd Allāh, had then stood up and informed the
group that he had added his share to his father’s because, as ‘Umar was a
tall man, he required extra cloth to make his dress. On another occasion,
‘Umar expressed his interest in fixing the dower for women at the time of
their marriages. In response, a lady stood up and raised her voice against
‘Umar’s concern, reminding him that Allah had not fixed the dower, even
if it be given in bulk. ‘Umar accepted the lady’s opinion, thanking her for
correcting him.
After returning from the Hajj in the year 23/644, caliph ‘Umar was
stabbed by a Magian named Abū Lū‘lū‘ah during the dawn (fajr) prayers.
Abū Lū‘lū‘ah stabbed ‘Umar in the back, until the latter fell down bleeding.
As he began to lose conscience, ‘Umar al-Khaṭṭāb called for ‘Uthmān,
‘Alī, Ṭalha, Zubayr, ‘Abd al-Raḥmān bin ‘Awf and Sa’d ibn Abī Waqqās.
He granted them the authority to consult the Muslims and nominate a
ruler from amongst themselves. This outstanding man and caliph of Islam
breathed his last on Wednesday 26 Dhu al-Hijja 644. On that day, the world
lost one of its great rulers and a leading architect of civilisational reform.
Note
1. Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī, hadith no. 4213
2. Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī, hadith no. 3689; Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim, hadith no. 2398.
3. Ibn Hajar al-Asqalānī, Fatḥ al-bārī sharḥ Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī, vol. 7 (Beirut:
Dār al-Ma’rifa, 1977), 50.
4. Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim, hadith no. 2393.
Further Reading
Al-Sallabi, Ali M. ‘Umar ibn al-Khattab: His Life and Times. Translated by
Nasiruddin al-Khattab. Riyadh: International Islamic Publishing House, 2007.
Al-Suyuti, Jalal al-Din. The History of the Khalifahs Who Took the Right Way.
Translated by Abdussamad Clarke. London: Ta-Ha Publishers, 1995.
Ibn Hajar al-Asqalānī. Fatḥ al-bārī sharḥ Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī. Beirut: Dār al-Ma’rifa,
1977.
Khan, Majid Ali. The Pious Caliphs. Kuala Lumpur: Islamic Book Trust, 1998.
Qal‘ajī, Rawās. Mawsū‘at fiqh ‘Umar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb. Kuwait: Maktabah al-Falāh,
1981.
2
‘Alī ibn Abī Ṭālib
(599CE-40AH/661CE)
Apnizan Abdullah
The full name and lineage of Sayyidina ‘Alī (599CE-40AH/661CE) was ‘Alī
ibn Abī Ṭālib (‘Abd al-Manāf ) ibn ‘Abd al-Muṭṭalib ibn Hāshim ibn ‘Abd
al-Manāf ibn Quṣai ibn Kilāb.1 First cousin to the Prophet Muḥammad, he
also married Fāṭima, the Prophet’s daughter, and fathered the latter’s two
beloved grandsons, al-Ḥasan and al-Ḥusayn.2 He is therefore the forefather
of the Prophet’s descendants, known collectively as the ahl al-bayt.3 For Shi’a
Muslims he is also the first Imam, while for Sunnis he is the fourth of the
Rightly Guided Caliphs, having ruled the Islamic caliphate from 35/656
to 40/661. ‘Alī is seen, both by Sunni and Shi’a, as a heroic warrior and
eloquent saint. He has even been divinised by some of his Shi’a followers.4
The Life of Sayyidina ‘Alī ibn Abī Ṭālib

To understand ‘Alī’s life, it is convenient to divide it into three distinct
phases: from his birth until the death of the Prophet (599-10/632), from
the Prophet’s demise until the murder of caliph ‘Uthmān ibn ‘Affān (10-
35/632-656) and, lastly, from the beginning of his own caliphate until his
martyrdom (35-40/656-661).5 We will now discuss each of these phases
in turn.
From His Birth until the Demise of the Prophet

‘Alī was the son of Abū Ṭālib ibn ‘Abd al-Muṭṭalib, a leading member
of the Hāshimite clan, and Fāṭima bint Asad, also of the Hāshimite
clan. Although disputed, it has been narrated that ‘Alī was (uniquely)
born inside the ka‘aba in Makkah, the holiest and the most sacred site
‘ALĪ IBN ABĪ ṬĀLIB 11
in Islam.6 Whatever the truth of this claim, Abū Ṭālib was the keeper of
the Ka‘ba during this period.
When Abū Ṭālib’s father, ‘Abd al-Muṭṭalib, died in 578, the Prophet,
who was the orphaned son of ‘Abd al-Muṭṭalib’s younger son, ‘Abd Allāh,
found himself without a home. Abū Ṭālib therefore took him in, treating
him like his own son. From that point on, the Prophet became very close
to his uncle and, when the latter fell on hard times during a famine in 604,
the Prophet, wishing to alleviate his suffering, adopted ‘Alī. From that day
onwards, ‘Alī became the Prophet’s constant companion, trusted friend
and confidant.
It has been narrated that ‘Alī was the first male to accept Islam, doing
so in 610, at the age of ten. Some, however, have argued that, since ‘Alī
was not an adult at that point, he cannot truly be considered to have
embraced the faith until later. Nevertheless, ‘Alī’s readiness to execute
whatever instruction the Prophet issued has never been questioned. For
example, when the Prophet invited the leading members of his clan to a
feast in relation to the revelation of the Quranic verse 26:214, ‘Alī, then
only thirteen, was the only one to respond. Upon seeing this, the Prophet
said “hearken to him and obey him.”7
When the Prophet was threatened with assassination and decided to
migrate from Makkah to Madinah, ‘Alī offered to facilitate his escape
by taking his place in his bed, where the assassination attempt was to
occur.8 Moreover, prior to joining the Prophet in Madinah, and despite
the danger involved, ‘Alī remained in Makkah while he ensured the
correct distribution of all the valuables that had been entrusted under the
Prophet’s name.9 After migrating to Madinah, ‘Alī was honoured with
the hand of the Prophet’s beloved daughter, Fāṭima, in marriage.10 After
instituting a pact of brotherhood between the muhājirūn (emigrants from
Makkah) and the anṣār (helpers in Madinah), the Prophet adopted ‘Alī as
his brother.
While in Madinah, ‘Alī participated in nearly all the major battles
of Islam, always emerging victorious, even in single combat. He was a
legendary, skilful warrior. His most prominent military victory was in the
battle of Khaybar. In was narrated by Salama that: “‘Alī remained behind
the Prophet during the Ghazwa of Khaybar as he was suffering from eye
trouble. He then said, ‘(How can) I remain behind the Prophet,’ and
followed him. So when he (‘Alī) slept on the night of the conquest of
Khaybar, the Prophet said, ‘I will give the flag tomorrow, or tomorrow the
flag will be taken by a man who is loved by Allah and His Apostle, and
(Khaybar) will be conquered through him, (with Allah's help).’ While
every one of us was hopeful to have the flag, it was said, ‘Here is ‘Alī’ and
the Prophet gave him the flag and Khaybar was conquered through him
(with Allah's Help).”11
After the conquest of Makkah in 7/629, the Prophet gave ‘Alī the
responsibility of destroying all the idols in the Ka’aba. ‘Alī was also
instructed to recite sūra al-Tawba during the pilgrimage to Makkah in
9/631, even though Abū Bakr was the official leader of that event. When
the Prophet died in 10/632, it was ‘Alī who washed his body and lowered
him into his grave.12
From the Prophet’s Demise until the Murder of ‘Uthmān ibn ‘Affān
The death of the Prophet precipitated a religious and political crisis in
Islam.13 When the Prophet died, there was commotion amongst the people
of the muhājirūn and anṣār about who should succeed him. While the
Prophet’s body was still being washed for burial, both sides met at the saqīfa
(meeting place) of the Banī Sā’ida and argued for the right of succession.14
The arguments ended with the ascension of Abū Bakr as caliph.15
According to the Shi’a, however, ‘Alī disputed this claim and refrained
from recognising Abū Bakr until after the death of Fāṭima in 11/633.16
The Shi’a claim that ‘Alī was in fact the rightful successor to the Prophet,
having been nominated by the Prophet himself at Ghadir Khum after both
men had returned from the ‘farewell pilgrimage’ in 10/632. The Prophet
had reputedly announced ‘Alī’s appointment after a congregational prayer,
when he took ‘Alī by the arm and made him stand next to him, saying:
“O people, know that what Aaron was to Moses, ‘Ali is to me, except that
there shall be no prophet after me, and he is my wali to you after me.
Therefore, he whose master (mawla) I am, ‘Ali is his master.” Then he
lifted ‘Ali’s arm and said: “O God, be affectionate to him who is devoted
to ‘Ali, show enmity to him who is his enemy, give victory to him who
helps ‘Ali and forsake him who forsakes ‘Ali. May the truth encompass
‘Ali to the end of his life.”17 According to the Shi’a, this hadith represents
the clear designation of ‘Alī as successor to the Prophet. Sunnis, however,
dispute this.18 While some have interpreted it as merely an indication of
the Prophet’s high esteem for ‘Alī, others have suggested it is a fraudulent
tradition because other evidence puts ‘Alī in Yemen when this declaration
was supposedly made. Although the famed Muslim historian, Abū Ja’far
al-Ṭabarī (d.ca.310/923), disputed this evidence in his Ahādīth. Ghadir
Khum (Traditions of Ghadir Khum), the later Ibn Kathīr (d.774/1373)
upheld it, arguing that al-Ṭabarī’s argument, despite being extensive (two
volumes), failed to distinguish sound information from weak.19
Given this dispute over the succession to the Prophet, it is unsurprising

that the relationship between ‘Alī and the first three caliphs has been a
sensitive subject in Islamic history. Many Sunni writers, for example, have
tended to downplay the disagreements between ‘Alī and the first three
caliphs in order to present a more harmonious picture of the early Islamic
caliphate. It is claimed that ‘Alī adopted a passive acceptance of the first
two caliphs, only voicing disagreement over certain policies and decisions.
All sources agree, however, that this began to change with the demise of
the second caliph, ‘Umar al-Khaṭṭāb (d.23/644). Shortly before his death,
‘Umar appointed a shūrā (collective consultation) council tasked with
appointing his successor. ‘Alī was both a member of this council and a
leading contender to succeed ‘Umar. But, when the head of the council,
‘Abd al-Raḥmān ibn ‘Awf, offered the role to him on the condition that
he rule according to the Qur’an, the Sunna, and the precedent of the first
two caliphs, ‘Alī replied that he would only rule according to the Qur’an
and Sunna. As a result, ‘Abd al-Raḥmān was forced to offer the caliphate to
‘Uthmān ibn ‘Affān instead, who readily agreed to the set conditions. ‘Alī
reluctantly accepted this outcome.
Many historians have described ‘Uthmān’s caliphate as corrupt and
nepotistic.20 Despite his great achievements in expanding the Islamic
empire,21 his rule was criticised by many, including ‘Alī and other
prominent Companions (like Ṭalḥa ibn Ubaydillāh, Zubayr ibn al-Awām
and ‘Ā’isha, the widow of the Prophet). Ultimately, this opposition resulted
in ‘Uthmān’s assassination in 35/656, and despite the best efforts of ‘Alī
to both restrain ‘Uthmān’s behaviour through warnings and to mediate
between him and those aggrieved by his rule.22 After ‘Uthmān’s death, ‘Alī
was elected as the fourth caliph of Islam.
From His Caliphate until His Martyrdom

Although ‘Alī’s caliphate proved short-lived, ending after just five years in
40/661, it had momentous consequences. ‘Alī began his reign by dismissing
several of the governors appointed by his predecessor, replacing them with his
own allies. He then set about recovering land and other properties granted
to elites by ‘Uthmān, favouring their more equal distribution amongst the
Muslim community at large. These actions were probably designed to correct
the perceived excesses of his predecessor. His efforts did not, however, prevent
the calls for him to punish those responsible for ‘Uthmān’s death. It was his
failure to do so within a reasonable time that precipitated the eruption of the
first Muslim civil war, known as the first fitna (trial, strife).
The first sign of serious opposition to ‘Alī came when Mu’awiya ibn
Abī Sufyān, the governor of Syria and kinsman of ‘Uthmān, who had
been incensed by the latter’s assassination, refused to obey ‘Alī’s orders,
effectively rebelling. Concurrently, those amongst the Companions who
demanded that the murderers of ‘Uthmān be brought to justice began to
force the issue; led by the aforementioned Ṭalḥa ibn Ubaydillāh, Zubayr
ibn al-Awām and ‘Ā’isha, they met ‘Alī at Basra in 36/656 and insisted that
he arrest those responsible. ‘Alī, however, proved reluctant. As a result, the
Battle of the Camel ensued. This ended with the death of both Ṭalḥa and
Zubayr, and the surrender of ‘Ā’isha. ‘Alī’s victory, however, proved short
lived; the powerful Mu’awiya continued to oppose him and began to amass
his own army in the Levant. Although ‘Alī attempted to come to terms
with Mu’awiya, the latter proved intractable and finally ‘Alī was forced to
confront him at Siffin (near modern-day Raqqa, Syria). There the armies
of the two men assembled; after negotiations again failed, fighting broke
out in 37/657, in what has become known as the Battle of Siffin.23
The Battle of Siffin proved bloody for both sides, but eventually
Mu’awiya’s forces began to lose ground. In an attempt to stem ‘Alī’s advance,
Mu’awiya’s general, ‘Amr ibn al-‘Āṣ, suggested that their troops hoist copies
of the Qur’an onto the tops of their spears. This had the desired effect,
with many of ‘Alī’s soldiers refusing to fight anyone holding the Qur’an.
In the ensuing stalemate, ‘Alī agreed to settle the conflict between himself
and Mu’awiya by arbitration. A protracted process of negotiation ensued,
during which ‘Alī was represented by Abū Mūsā al-Asharī and Mu’awiya
by ‘Amr ibn al-‘Āṣ. Finally, in 38/659 the process ended: ‘Amr ibn al-‘Āṣ
persuaded Abū Mūsā al-Asharī to agree that both ‘Alī and Mu’awiya should
be deposed and a shūrā council formed to elect a new caliph.
When ‘Alī learnt of this decision, he was dismayed that he, as caliph,
had been reduced to the same status as the rebellious Mu’awiya. Moreover,
in the public announcement that followed, ‘Amr ibn al-‘Āṣ broke the
agreement he had reached with Abū Mūsā al-Asharī and announced that
‘Alī had been deposed and Mu’awiya was caliph. ‘Alī therefore refused to
accept the result of the process. This, however, proved costly: by refusing to
accept the outcome of the arbitration process that he had originally agreed
to, many Muslims accused ‘Alī of breaking his oath. As a result, the majority
of his supporters deserted him, leaving him in a weakened position. Most
notably, a sect called the Kharijites separated themselves from him. They
had strongly opposed arbitration from the beginning, believing that God
alone was fit to arbitrate (i.e. that ‘Alī should have continued fighting until
a winner emerged by God’s will). Also holding that anyone who disagreed
with them was an unbeliever, they denounced ‘Alī and began killing his
supporters. This conflict culminated in 38/659, when ‘Alī’s forces met
and defeated the Kharijites at the Battle of Nahrawan.24 This did not,
however, mark the end of their threat to his person: during the fajr prayer
on 19 Ramaḍān 40/27 January 661, a Kharijite called ‘Abd al-Raḥmān ibn
Muljam struck ‘Alī down with a poisoned sword. As a result, ‘Alī died two
days later.25
‘Alī’s Spiritual and Intellectual Legacy

‘Alī was a pious leader and a person of integrity, who steadfastly held to
his principles. Several hadith record the Prophet’s high esteem for him. As
mentioned above, the Prophet reputedly said that ‘Alī was to him as Hārūn
was to Mūsā (with the exception that ‘Alī was not a prophet).26 It was also
narrated that the Prophet said, “‘Alī is with Qur’an and the Qur’an is with
‘Alī.”27 It was reported in al-Mustadrak that the Prophet said “I am a city of
knowledge and Alī is the gate.”28
Since the ‘Abbāsid period, Sunni Islam has recognised ‘Alī as a respected
spiritual leader and the fourth of the Rightly Guided Caliphs. The Shi’a,
on the other hand, consider ‘Alī to be the first of their imams (or spiritual
leaders); according to Shi’ism, an imam functions as the only legitimate
spiritual guide for all Muslims, being the sole interpreter of revelation and
Sharia and the only legitimate political authority.
During the ‘Abbāsid period, the Shi’a scholar, al-Sharif al-Raḍī
(d.406/1015), compiled ‘Alī’s sermons, letters and aphorisms into a single
volume, called Nahj al-Balāgha. This text presented ‘Alī’s theological
elaboration on such crucial issues as the transcendence and oneness of
Allah and the importance of intellect in rational and legal debate. Through
it, ‘Alī’s thought influenced the development of Muslim scholarship,
providing the stimulus and content for a large number of intellectual and
spiritual disciplines, including Qur’anic exegesis, theology, jurisprudence,
rhetoric, grammar, calligraphy, numerology and alchemy. Moreover, ‘Alī’s
letter to the Companion, Mālik al-Ashtar, written when the latter was
appointed to the governorship of Egypt, has been seen to embody all the
ideals of Islamic governance.29
As a person who was committed to the principles of Islamic religion
and educated by the Prophet himself, ‘Alī was a man of humanity and
integrity. During the Battle of Siffin, he ordered his men not to kill anyone
who surrendered or fled the battle, not to finish off wounded men, not to
uncover a pudendum, not to mutilate any dead bodies, not to rip open
a curtain or enter a house without permission, not to take the rebels’

property and not to harm women. These rules have since formed the basis
of Islamic humanitarian law. That he allowed the army of Mu’awiya to
access the watering places controlled by his army during the Battle of Siffin
also proves his merciful nature and religious integrity – especially given
that his own army was denied such access when the watering places were
controlled by his opponents.30 For these reasons and others, ‘Alī continues
to hold a special position in both Sunni and Shi’a branches of Islam as an
exemplary Muslim.
Notes
1. Ali M. Sallabi, Ali bin Abi Talib, vol. 1, trans. Nasiruddin al-Khattab (Riyadh:
International Islamic Publishing House, 2008), 51-2.
2. There are many narrations stating the virtues of al-Hasan. and al-Husayn.
. For
example, it was narrated from Abū Huraira that: “The Messenger of Allah
said: ‘Whoever loves Hasan and Husain, loves me; and whoever hates them,
hates me.’” See Ibn Majah, Sunan Ibn Majah, vol. 1, book 1, hadith 143.
3. The Shi’a and the Sunnis differ regarding the definition of ahl al-bayt.
According to the Shi’a, the term is limited to the Prophet, his daughter
Fāṭima, ‘Alī, and al-Hasan
. and al-Husayn.
. This interpretation is supposedly
supported by sūra al-Ahzāb
. āya 33 and the hadith known as al-Kisā’ (the
cloak), see Abū ‘Īsā Muhammad
. al-Tirmidhī, Jāmi’ al-Tirmidhī, vol. 1,
book 46, hadith 3787. By contrast, the Sunnis believe that ahl al-bayt refers
to both the aforementioned individuals and all the wives of Prophet, see
Abdullah Yusuf Ali, The Meaning of The Holy Quran (Beltsville, MD: Amana
Publications, 1997), 1066.
4. Encyclopaedia of Religion, s.v. ‘‘Ali ibn Abi Talib,’ 256.
5. Ibid.
6. Sallabi, Ali, 53.
7. Ibid. See also Ibn Ishaq, The Life of Muhammad, ed. Alfred Guilaume
(London: Oxford University Press, 1968), 117-8.
8. Encyclopaedia of Religion, s.v. ‘‘Ali ibn Abi Talib,’ 256.
9. Sami Hassan Homoud, Islamic Banking: The Adaptation of Banking Practice
to Conform With Islamic Law (London: Arabian Information Ltd, 1985), 19-
20.
10. Fred M. Donner, Muhammad and the Believers: At the Origins of Islam
(London: Harvard University Press, 2010), 43.
11. Al-Bukhārī, Ṣaḥīḥ Bukhārī, vol. 5, hadith 3702.
12. Encyclopaedia of Religion, s.v. ‘‘Ali ibn Abi Talib,’ 256-7.
13. Mahmoud M. Ayoub, The Crisis of Muslim History (Manchester: Oneworld
Publications, 2006), 7-8.
14. Karen Armstrong, Islam: A Short History (New York: Modern Library Edition,
2000), 24-5.
15. Ibid, 9-11.
16. Ibid, n. 12.

17. Encyclopaedia Iranica, 2nd ed., s.v. ‘Ali b. Abi Taleb’s Life.’
18. Ibid. See also, Muslim ibn al-Ḥajjāj, Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim, vol. 6, hadith 6220-
6221; al-Bukhārī, Ṣaḥīḥ Bukhārī, vol. 5, hadith 3706; Franz Rosenthal, The
History of al-Tabari, vol. 1 (Albany: University of New York Press, 1989),
91-3.
19. Rosenthal, History of al-Tabari, vol. 1, 91-3.
20. Ibid.
21. Donner, Muhammad and the Believers, 147.
22. Encyclopaedia Iranica, 2nd ed., s.v. ‘Ali b. Abi Taleb’s Life,’ 257.
23. Armstrong, Islam, 33-4.
24. See Encyclopaedia Iranica, 2nd ed., s.v. ‘Ali b. Abi Taleb’s Life,’ 258-9;
Armstrong, Islam, 34-7; and Rosenthal, History of al-Tabari, vol. 16.
25. Encyclopaedia Iranica, 2nd ed., s.v. ‘Ali b. Abi Taleb’s Life,’ 259.
26. Muslim, Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim, vol. 6, hadith 6217, 6218, 6219, 6220, 6221; al-
Bukhārī, Ṣaḥīḥ Bukhārī, vol. 5, hadith 3706.
27. Cited in Encyclopaedia Iranica, 2nd ed., s.v. ‘Ali b. Abi Taleb’s Life,’ 257.
28. Ibid.
29. Ibid, 259-60.
30. Mohd Hisham Mohd Kamal, ‘International Humanitarian Law From
Islamic Perspective,’ paper presented at Seminar on Law and Society III: Recent
Development on International Humanitarian Law, AIKOL, International
Islamic University Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur, 24 April 2014.
Further Reading
Al-Bukhārī, Muḥammad ibn Ismā’īl. Ṣaḥīḥ Bukhārī. Translated by Muhammad
Muhsin Khan. Riyadh: Darussalam, 1997.
Al-Ḥajjāj, Muslim ibn. Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim. Translated by Nasiruddin al-Khattab.

Riyadh: Darussalam, 2007.
Al-Ṭabarī, Abū Ja’far. The History of al-Tabari. Translated by Adrian Brockett.

New York: State University of New York Press, 1996.
Al-Tirmidhī, Abū ‘Īsā Muḥammad. Jāmi’ al-Tirmidhī. Available at: http://

sunnah.com/urn/636700.
Ali, A. Y. The Meaning of the Holy Quran. Beltsville, MD: Amana Publications,
1997.
Armstrong, K. Islam: A Short History. New York: Modern Library Edition, 2000.
Ayoub, M. M. The Crisis of Muslim History. Manchester: Oneworld Publications,

2006.
Donner, F. M. Muhammad and the Believers: At the Origin of Islam. London:

Harvard University Press, 2010.
Homoud, S. H. Islamic Banking: The Adaptation of Banking Practice to Conform

with Islamic Law. London: Arabian Information Ltd, 1985.
Ibn Ishaq. The Life of Muhammad. Translated and edited by Alfred Guilaume.
London: Oxford University Press, 1968.
Ibn Majah. Sunan Ibn Majah. Available at: http://sunnah.com/urn/1251430.
Mohd Kamal, M. K. ‘International Humanitarian Law From Islamic Perspective.’

Paper presented at Seminar on Law and Society III: Recent Development on
International Humanitarian Law, AIKOL, International Islamic University
Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur, 24 April 2014.
Rosenthal, F. The History of Al-Tabari. Albany, NY: University of New York Press,
1989.
Sallabi, A. M. Ali bin Abi Talib. Translated by Nasiruddin al-Khattab. Riyadh:

International Islamic Publishing House, 2008.
3
‘Ā’isha Bint Abī Bakr
(CA.613CE-58AH/678CE)
Eric Winkel
‘Ā’isha bint Abī Bakr (ca.613/614CE-17 Ramaḍān 58AH/13 July 678CE)

was the younger daughter of the first caliph, Abū Bakr (d.13/634), and a
wife of the Prophet Muḥammad. Both her teachings and hadith testimony
have become crucial for understanding lived Islam – especially regarding
intimate and private matters. In the huge hadith collection known as
Musnad Aḥmad, there is a section devoted exclusively to her traditions
(technically known as Musnad ‘Ā’isha). In this remarkable collection,
spanning hadith nos. 23892-26292 – that is, two thousand four hundred
individual hadith (including repetitions) – we hear the voice of an Arabian
woman from almost a millennium and a half ago. Historically, patriarchal
societies have muted female voices; to read this section, however, is to hear
more than two thousand times – ‘Ā’isha said…
Perhaps the most oft-transmitted and well-known statement from
‘Ā’isha is that the Prophet was an exemplar (the uṣwata ḥasana described
in the Qur‘an) and someone of tremendous character (khuluq ‛aẓīm). One
of the Companions, for example, al-Ḥasan al-Baṣrī, is reported to have
said: “I asked ‘Ā’isha about the character of the Messenger, peace be upon
him, and she replied, ‘His character was the Qur‘ān’.” The following record
shows how she absorbed the wisdom she saw modelled in her husband:
Aḥmad bin Sulaymān said: Ḥusayn from Zā‘ida from al-‘Amash
from ‘Umara from Abū ‘Atīya who said: I came, myself and Masrūq,
to ‘Ā’isha, and Masrūq asked her: “There are two men from the
Companions of the Messenger, peace be upon him, both of whom
strive for the good. One of them delays the prayer and the fiṭr
[breaking the fast]. The other hastens the prayer and the fiṭr [that
is, hastens to eat the iftār just after sunset and then quickly starts the
maghrib prayer].” ‘Ā’isha asked: “Who is the one who hastens the
prayer and the fiṭr?” Masrūq replied: “It is ‘Abd Allāh bin Mas‘ūd.”
She said, “That is the way Messenger of God, peace be upon him,
used to do it.”
Thus, instead of singling out the wrong, ‘Ā’isha focused only on the
right. She provided her opinion in such a manner that neither person would
feel put down by her response. This shows her sensitivity and wisdom.
‘Ā’isha would spend most of her life transmitting the Sunna of the
Messenger. This role was extremely important, with there being much to
pull the early Muslim community away from the heart of the Prophet’s
message. In the following record, for example, ‘Ā’isha corrects a cultural
(male) assumption about women that the Messenger had sought to dispel,
but which had nonetheless persisted after his death:
Abū Mu‘āwiya, al-‘Amash, Ibrāhīm, al-Aswad, from ‘Ā’isha: that it
reached her that people were saying that the prayer was broken by
the dog, the donkey, and the woman. She said, “Do they not see that
they have equated us [women] to dogs and donkeys? Sometimes I
saw the Messenger, peace be upon him, praying at night while I was
on the bed between him and the qibla [the direction of prayer]. I
had to go, so I slipped down in front of the legs of the bed, disliking
that I should face him in front of his qibla.”
‘Ā’isha frequently demonstrated a tendency to be outspoken, feeling
uninhibited about talking back to anyone, including her husband and
father. When, for example, she learned that a verse had been revealed
vindicating her in the affair of the necklace (when she was accused of
adultery, see sūra 24, al-Nūr), she nevertheless turned away from her
parents and husband, both of whom had doubted her. In her own words:
When my vindication came down from heaven, the Prophet, peace
be upon him, came to me and announced it to me. I said, “We
praise God, but we do not praise you.”
As Mohammad Akram Nadwi has argued, this and other similar
incidents indicate that ‘Ā’isha considered any obedience that was not, first
and foremost, to God as a burden to the self. Her duty was always to obey
God.
‘Ā’isha was also very outspoken when correcting wrong ideas about the
Prophetic Sunna, as we see here:
‘Ā’ISHA BINT ABĪ BAKR 21
Yazīd, Hammām ibn Yahyā, . Qatāda, Abū Ḥassān, who said: Two
men from Banū ‘Āmir came to ‘Ā’isha and told her that Abū Hurayra
was repeating a hadith from the Prophet, peace upon him, wherein
he said that the [evil] omen may be in the house, the woman, and
the horse. [At hearing this] She [‘Ā’isha] got angry and threw a torn
piece of her clothing up to the sky and a piece down to the ground,
and she said, “By the One who sent the Criterion to Muhammad,
.
the Messenger, peace be upon him, did not say that at all. Instead,
he said that the people in the time of Ignorance considered those
evil omens.” Then she recited, Nothing bad comes to the Earth or to
any of you except in a record-book [Ḥadīd 57:21].
In another instance, we find it related that:
The companion, ‘Urwa bin Zubayr [‘Ā’isha’s nephew], reported
that it had come to ‘Ā’isha’s attention that Abū Hurayra was saying
that the Messenger, peace be upon him, had said, “The offspring
of adulterers is the worst of the three, and that the dead person
is tormented by the crying of the living.” In response, ‘Ā’isha said,
“God bless Abū Hurayra, but he heard incorrectly and he was wrong
about the response.” She explained that there was a hyprocrite
[munāfiq] who had bothered the Messenger, peace be upon him,
and taunted him, saying that he was an illegitimate offspring. ‘Ā’isha
said, “The Messenger said, ‘He is the worst of the three!’” And then
she cited the Qur‘an, The bearer of a load does not bear the load of
another [al-An‘ām 6:164]. She continued by stating, “As for Abū
Hurayra’s statement that the dead are tormented by the crying of
the living, the hadith is not like that. The Messenger, peace be upon
him, passed by the house of a Jewish man who had died and his
family was crying for him. He said, ‘They may cry for him and God
may punish him.’ God says, God does not demand of any soul but
what it is able to bear [al-Baqara 2:286].”
The traditions relating to ‘Ā’isha also give a rare glimpse into her inner
life. Fiercely jealous, she freely admitted that she was never more envious
of someone than of the Prophet’s first wife, Khadīja. At various times,
she also became jealous of Māriya (mother of the Prophet’s son, Ibrāhīm)
and the beautiful Jewish captive, Ṣafiya. ‘Ā’isha also related how she once
became jealous of the amount of time the Prophet was spending with
another of his wives, Zaynab bint Jahsh. This led to a domestic quarrel
which ultimately resulted in the Messenger staying away from his wives
for a period of a month (this situation is considered to be the occasion of
revelation for the first part of sūra 66, al-Taḥrīm). It was also reported that
one day the Prophet said to her:
“I know when you are angry with me and I know when you are
happy with me.” She said, “How do you know that, O Messenger?”
He said, “When you are angry you say, ‘O Muḥammad,’ and when
you are happy you say, ‘O Messenger.’”
In modern times, perhaps the most controversial aspect of ‘Ā’isha’s
biography revolves around the age at which she supposedly married the
Prophet: did she, as some hadith and commentators maintain, marry at
nine years old, or at nineteen? Certainly, if her older sister, Asmā‘ bint Abī
Bakr, was her senior by ten years and died at the age of one hundred in
73/692, then ‘Ā’isha must have married at age nineteen.
Later in life, ‘Ā’isha played a highly visible role in the political life of the
early Muslim community. After the assassination in 35/656 of the third
Rightly Guided Caliph, ‘Uthmān ibn ‘Affān, she actively took sides against
the fourth caliph, ‘Alī ibn Abī Ṭālib, in protest against his failure to punish
those responsible for the death of his predecessor. She was much criticised
for inciting this opposition, which culminated in the Battle of the Camel
at Basra. Her role in this conflict subsequently damaged her authority
within some sections of the Muslim community; although she herself
characterised it as nothing more than the type of dispute that may occur
in extended families, her opposition to ‘Alī subsequently led to Shi’a efforts
to de-legitimise her. These efforts may even have extended to tampering
with hadith evidence. Nevertheless, the sincerity of her subsequent regret
and penance over the incident has been universally recognised.
The authority ‘Ā’isha wielded throughout her lifetime was not easily
accepted by some of her contemporaries, even during the lifetime of the
Prophet. For example, one hadith recounts that, when a Companion
invited the Prophet to dinner, the Prophet said: “I and this one,” pointing
to ‘Ā’isha. The Companion, however, declined to extend his invitation to
‘Ā’isha and so the Prophet refused to go. A solution was only reached when
the Companion relented and invited both of them. The favour the Prophet
showed to ‘Ā’isha was also questioned in later times, prompting the famed
mystic, Ibn ‘Arabī (d.638/1240), to state in his Futūḥāt:
And God says, “You have in the Messenger of God a fine exemplar.”
Where is your faith, if you would see today a person of elevated rank,
like a judge or a lecturer, or a vizier, or a sultan, doing something like
this [i.e. favouring a woman], following the model of the Prophet,
‘Ā’ISHA BINT ABĪ BAKR 23
wouldn’t you describe him as having inferior character? But if this

quality were not one of the praiseworthy virtues, the Messenger of
God would not have done it, he “who was sent to perfectly complete
the praiseworthy virtues.”
In sum, we are fortunate indeed to have extensive records of ‘Ā’isha’s
teachings, thoughts, and experiences. She was perhaps the most notable
and influential of the Prophet’s wives, who are collectively known as the
‘Mothers of the Believers’ (ummuhāt al-mu’minīn). She has become highly
revered by Sunni Muslims worldwide, for whom her reports constitute
a valuable legal and moral resource. Her life and teachings represent the
important contribution of a Muslim woman to the birth of Islam and
provide a valued insight into the character and conduct of her husband,
the Prophet Muhammad. A signal mark of her unique position is the fact
that the Prophet died and was buried in her house, which today lies in the
vicinity of the column before the qibla in the Mosque of Madinah. Her
passionate convictions, distinctive personality and strong-willed presence
left a definite imprint upon Islam. This Mother of the Believers reminds
us that, without the sincere and informed participation of women, our
community will not conform to the revered model of pristine Islam.
Further Reading
Al-Nasā’ī, Sunan. Kitāb al-sawm.
. Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-‘Ilmīyah, 1426/2005.
Al-Zarkashī, Muhammad
. ibn Bahadūr. Al-Ijābah li-īrād mā istadrakat-hu ‘Ā’ishah
‘alā l-sahābah.
. . Available at: http://shamela.ws/index.php/book/12703.
Ibn Hanbal,
. Imām Ahmad
. bin Muhammad.
. Al-Musnad Aḥmad. Cairo: Dār al-
Hadīth, 1995.
Ibn Kathīr. Al-Bidāyah wa ‘l-Nihāyah. Cairo: Dār al-Ḥadīth, 1426/2005.
Nadwi, Mohammad Akram. Al-Muḥaddithāt: The women scholars in Islam. Oxford:

Interface Publications, 2007.
Part Two
The Classical Period

4
Ja‘far al-Ṣādiq
(83-148AH/702-765CE)
Karim D. Crow
Ja‘far al-Ṣādiq (83-148AH/702-765CE) was a direct descendent of the

Prophet Muḥammad. After his death, he became venerated as the sixth
imam (or spiritual leader) of Imāmiyya Shi‘ism (also known as Twelver
Shi‘ism) and the fifth imam of Ismā‘īliyya Shi‘ism, both of whose
doctrines he clearly helped establish (the Imāmiyya’s Ja‘farī legal school,
for example, is named after him). In addition to being a member of the ahl
al-bayt (‘The People of the House’, referring to the family of Muḥammad),
al-Ṣādiq also boasted maternal descent from the first caliph, Abū Bakr
al-Ṣiddīq. Thus, al-Ṣādiq’s mother, Umm Farwa bint al-Qāsim, was the
great-granddaughter of Abū Bakr. Ja‘far reportedly declared: “I am not
hoping for anything through the intercession of ‘Alī (on Judgement
Day) save that I hope the same through the intercession of Abū Bakr.” In
addition to being revered by the Shi’a, al-Ṣādiq is also highly esteemed
by Sunni Muslims, for whom he is a paragon of exemplary wisdom. The
Sufis also revere him for his spiritual initiation and esoteric elucidation
(ta ′wīl) of the Qur’an.
Living through the tumultuous Umayyad-‘Abbāsid transition, al-
Ṣādiq became intimately involved in the rival religious, intellectual and
political factions of his era, interacting directly with leading figures from
a wide spectrum of political and intellectual perspectives. Politically,
for example, al-Ṣādiq was summoned to Iraq for several audiences with
the first two ‘Abbāsid caliphs, Abū al-‘Abbās al-Saffāḥ (r.132-136/750-
754) and Abū Ja‘far al-Manṣūr (r.136-158/754-775), the latter of
whom suspected al-Ṣādiq of harbouring political ambitions of his own.
Intellectually, al-Ṣādiq was visited in his home by the great Kufan faqīh,
Abū Ḥanīfa, and by the leading Madinan scholar, Mālik b. Anas. The
latter praised him for his religious probity. Aside from these orthodox
scholars, al-Ṣādiq has been further linked with the occult disciplines of
letter-number sciences (‘ilm al-ḥurūf or jafr), prognostication (fāl), and
alchemy (he was reputedly the master of the famed early chemist, Jābir
b. Ḥayyān, d.ca.200/815).
Many controversial questions obstruct a proper understanding of al-
Ṣādiq’s historical person, serving to obscure his position on important
issues. Conflicting images have been built up over the centuries, each
offering a selective portrait of of al-Ṣādiq’s activities and teachings. Robert
Gleaves observes:
The variety of uses to which Ja‘far al-Ṣādeq’s name has been put,
and the ideas and teachings which have been attributed to him,
are significant not only because they establish him as an important
figure in the history of early Islamic thought, but also because they
demonstrate the malleability of his legacy...It is the manner in
which his contribution has been recast and, at times, re-invented
that enables him to be employed by writers in the different Islamic
sciences as integral to their development.1
But, if al-Ṣādiq later became the object of sectarian appropriation and
polemical debate, it was because of an acrimonious dispute between the
senior Companions of the Prophet.2
The Ahl al-Bayt

From the beginning of Islamic history, certain descendants of the Prophet
Muḥammad’s Family (the āl Muḥammad or ahl al-bayt) have played
a significant role in the elaboration of Islamic religious disciplines and
spirituality. To better apprehend al-Ṣādiq’s position in the early Muslim
community, the history of this Family must be borne in mind.
In 40/661, the Prophet’s first cousin and son-in-law, the fourth caliph,
‘Alī ibn Abū Ṭālib, was assassinated in Kufa following a five-year civil war.
Initially, ‘Alī was succeeded by his eldest son, al-Ḥasan. In 41/662, however,
al-Ḥasan was forced to abdicate in favour of Mu‘āwiya b. Abū Sufyān (r.40-
60/661-680), the second Umayyad caliph (after the third caliph, ‘Uthmān
ibn al-‘Affān, d.35/656). During Mu‘āwiya’s reign, supporters of ‘Alī were
hunted down and persecuted; Mu‘āwiya even instituted the public cursing
of ‘Alī from the pulpits of all mosques throughout the empire. Amid this
oppression, al-Ḥasan adopted a policy of accommodation. Nevertheless, in
50/670 he was poisoned by his wife, apparently at the behest of Mu‘āwiya,
JA‘FAR AL-ṢĀDIQ 29
who wished his son, Yazīd (d.64/683), to succeed him as caliph (something
the terms of al-Ḥasan’s abdication would not allow).
When Yazīd eventually succeeded his father in 60/680, ‘Alī’s younger
son, al-Ḥusayn, abandoned his late brother’s policy of accommodation
and rebelled. His small band, however, was massacred at Karbalā’ (near
Kufa) in 61/680. Al-Ḥusayn’s only surviving son, ‘Alī Zayn al-‘Ābidīn (38-
94/658-712), then became leader of those who still believed that political
authority should rest in the hands of the ahl al-bayt. He was al-Ṣādiq’s
grandfather. Unlike al-Ḥusayn, however, al-‘Ābidīn returned to al-Ḥasan’s
policy of accommodation towards Umayyad power. This was continued by
al-Ṣādiq’s father, Muḥammad al-Bāqir (58-115/677-733), who attracted a
circle of devoted pupils and began to elaborate the legal and theological
basis for a distinct school of Islamic practice.
Following al-Bāqir’s death in Madinah, however, support for
accommodation again began to flag. Al-Ṣādiq’s younger brother, ‘Abd
Allāh Duqduq, was accused by Madinah’s Umayyad governor, Khālid
b. ‘Abd al-Mālik b. al-Ḥārith (served 114-118/732-736), of inciting the
people to follow al-Ṣādiq as imam. This led to Duqduq’s assassination by
poison.3 More prominently, Muḥammad al-Bāqir’s younger half-brother
(i.e. al-Ṣādiq’s paternal uncle), Zayd b. ‘Alī, led (and died during) a poorly
coordinated uprising in Iraq in 122/740. Although this rebellion garnered
widespread public sympathy, it was ruthlessly crushed, prompting a
second unsuccessful revolt by Zayd’s son, Yaḥyā (lasting from 122/740
to 126/744). Shortly after this, the Ṭālibite contender, ‘Abd Allāh b.
Mu‘āwiya, attained temporary success (127-130/744-747) in Iraq and
Fars.
From elsewhere within the Banū Hāshim, al-Ṣādiq’s paternal cousins,
the Ḥasanid ‘Alids, also attempted to gain power by harnessing the
Hāshimite legitimacy in combination with the powerful appeal of
apocalyptic propaganda. Thus, ‘Abd Allāh al-Maḥḍ (grandson of al-
Ḥasan) groomed his eldest son, Muḥammad, to serve as the mahdī, or
the legendary al-nafs al-zakiyya (pure soul) destined to inaugurate just
rule. Although al-Maḥḍ was able to elicit support for his son’s leadership
from many key Banū Hāshim figures, including the future ‘Abbāsid
caliph, Abū Ja‘far al-Manṣūr, al-Ṣādiq refused to render his allegiance.
Evidently aware that the ‘Abbāsid family had also begun its own quest for
leadership, patiently engineering an underground revolution in the name
of the Prophet’s Family, al-Ṣādiq foresaw the approaching failure of his
Ḥasanid cousins. Indeed, al-Ṣādiq reputedly uttered a prediction that the
self-proclaimed mahdī would be “slain at the oiled stones” at the behest
of al-Manṣūr – a prediction which came to pass in 145/762 when the

former was executed at the shiny lava outcropping near Madinah that is
commonly called the ‘oiled stones’.
During these tumultuous events, al-Ṣādiq managed to avoid
controversy, being neither arrested nor imprisoned. Indeed, after the rise
of the ‘Abbāsid dynasty in 132/750, he was free to expand his teaching
activities amongst his growing circles of pupils. In the context of the
aforementioned ‘Alid pretensions to power, however, the crucial question
which has since been asked by Sunni thinkers is whether al-Ṣādiq upheld
the view that ‘Alī was explicitly designated as successor to the Prophet (a
succession allegedly thwarted by senior Companions). Moreover, did al-
Ṣādiq also hold that the ahl al-bayt (confined to the Ḥusaynid hereditary
line) were alone authorised to exercise legitimate temporal and spiritual
authority over Muslims (i.e. the Shi’a doctrine of the imamate). Sunni
Islam has traditionally understood community guidance to be vouchsafed
in the Qur’an and the religio-legal consensus of religious experts (ulama).
By contrast, the Shi‘a have generally held that valid guidance requires
the presence of a divinely appointed and infallible chief from among the
Prophet’s Family, who then authoritatively interprets the Qur’an for his
followers. The controversy over whether al-Ṣādiq supported the Shi’a
position has resulted in a tendency amongst Sunni authorities to reject
almost all narrations assigned to him, essentially disqualifying him as a
religious authority. The question of the true status of Ja‘far’s narrations
should therefore be considered, both with regard to their literary recording
and transmission over the generations.
Transmission
On the whole, canonical Sunni hadith collections rarely cite al-Ṣādiq’s
narrations, reflecting the aforementioned cautious attitude to his
testimony.4 For example, the staunch Sunni traditionalist, al-Bukhārī
(d.256/870), excluded all of al-Ṣādiq’s narrations from his Ṣaḥīḥ (although
al-Ṣādiq is occasionally cited in al-Bukhārī’s ethical compilation, al-Adab
al-mufrad). The Ṣaḥīḥ of Muslim (d.261/875), on the other hand, cites
twenty-six isnāds (or fourteen separate hadith) narrated through al-Ṣādiq.5
Early Mālikī and Ḥanafī jurisprudential works also contained occasional
narrations transmitted on the authority of al-Ṣādiq. Throughout the
writings of al-Shāfi‘ī (d.204/820), and more generally in the early Shāfi‘ī
School as a whole, al-Ṣādiq is also sometimes cited as an authority on
matters pertaining to the early history of Madinah or to a variety of
legal topics. The best example of the Shāfi‘ī School admitting narrations
from al-Ṣādiq (and also al-Bāqir) is the Sunan of al-Ḥāfiẓ al-Bayhaqī
(d.458/1066).6
Nevertheless, the majority of Sunni critics have stipulated that narrations
received through al-Ṣādiq’s family isnād are defective and therefore to
be avoided. Their objections appear to have been intended to discredit
and dispense with the mass of Shi‘a hadith attributed to al-Ṣādiq, whose
doctrinal principles concerning the imamate, coupled with their pejorative
portrayal of the motives and deeds of certain leading Companions
regarding the succession to the Prophet, were anathema to Sunni Muslims.
A revealing statement explaining Sunni traditionalism’s antipathy towards
narrations from al-Ṣādiq is reported by the Kufan traditionalist, Yaḥyā b.
‘Abd al-Ḥamīd al-Ḥimmānī (d.228/843). Yaḥyā questioned his teacher
and mentor, the Kufan qāḍī, Sharīk b. ‘Abd Allāh al-Nakha‘ī (d.177/793),
about unspecified groups (aqwām) who considered al-Ṣādiq ‘weak’ in his
narrations. Sharīk, an accomplished traditionalist and faqīh, who served as
judge under the ‘Abbāsids, first in Wāsiṭ (from 150/767) and then in Kufa
(158-169/768-779), is reported to have said:
I will tell you the situation. Ja‘far b. Muḥammad was a righteous
man and a God-fearing Muslim. Then a group of foolish ignorant
persons [qawm juhhāl] surrounded him, frequenting his home and
leaving his presence while saying “Ja‘far b. Muḥammad informed
us.” They narrated traditions, all of them objectionable [munkarāt]
– lies, forgeries imputed to Ja‘far! – in order to exploit people to
their own advantage and take their dirhams, and to this end they
brought forth all kinds of objectionable traditions. Thereupon the
public [al-‘awām] heard these from them, and some were brought
to ruin (by accepting them), while others disclaimed them. These
(ignorami) were the likes of al-Mufaddal. . b. ‘Umar and Bayān [b.
Sam‘ān] and ‘Amr al-Nabaṭī [sic., correctly ‘Ammār al-Sābāṭī] and
others. They stated that Ja‘far narrated to them that recognition of
the imām suffices to spare one from fasting and prayer; and that he
narrated to them from his father [al-Bāqir], from his grandfather
[i.e. ‘Alī] who informed them about (events that will occur) before
the Resurrection; and that ‘Alī is in the clouds flying with the wind,
and that he used to speak after death, and moved as he was being
washed (for burial); and that [‘Alī] is God in heaven while God on
earth is the imam – so these errant fools appointed a partner for
God! By God, Ja‘far never said anything like this at all! Ja‘far was
more mindful of God and God-revering than that. So when the
people [narrating traditions] heard these things, they deemed him

‘weak’ [and forsook transmitting his narrations]. If you had seen
Ja‘far, you would have known that he was truly unparalleled among
his peers [wāḥid al-nās].7
Sharīk’s explanation for the mistrust shown al-Ṣādiq is persuasive on
one level: it points to the well-attested role of ‘exaggerators’ in al-Ṣādiq’s
entourage (notably al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ju‘fī), who ascribed all manner of
supernatural abilities and superior knowledge to him. However, Sharīk’s
explicit insistence that Ja‘far himself had nothing whatsoever to do
with the objectionable teachings that were so often associated with him
is not supported by all. Did al-Ṣādiq therefore help evolve mainstream
Imāmiyya Shi‘a doctrine (including their legal ideas and practices), or are
the narrations the Shi’a assign to him simply ‘lies and forgeries’?
His Teachings
During al-Ṣādiq’s lifetime, Islamic society experienced a great proliferation
and creative elaboration of the major knowledge disciplines, including
hadith studies, jurisprudence, grammar and linguistics, Qur’anic
exegesis, ethical-spiritual teachings, asceticism, and creedal/theological
speculation. Initially, however, these disciplines were not seen as distinct;
it was possible to combine them in various ways, within the expertise
of a single individual. Al-Ṣādiq’s intellectual activity was no exception
to this rule, integrating as it did legal instruction, ethical praxis,
theological principles, and individual spiritual guidance. Building upon
his father’s work (he inherited a number of al-Bāqir’s senior disciples),
al-Ṣādiq projected his legal, theological, and spiritual teachings amongst
his circle of students. The latter were overwhelmingly Iraqi partisans,
many of whom later attached themselves to al-Ṣādiq’s younger son and
designated legatee, Mūsā al-Kāz. im (d.183/799). Al-Ṣādiq sought out
and recruited specific individuals who he thought would help fortify and
extend his circle of associates and advance the cause of the ahl al-bayt.
He also, however, attracted a number of proto-Sunni traditionalists,
jurists, grammarian-linguists and poets, in addition to several ‘Abbāsid
government officials. Amongst the most prominent of his many close
associates were: Zurāra b. A‘yan (d.150/767), a rationalist faqīh and
theologian from Kufa; Hishām b. Sālim al-Jawālīqī, who combined
theological and legal competency; and ‘Ammār b. Mūsā al-Sābāṭī, an
esoteric initiate with legal and theological interests. Perhaps the most
outstanding of all his students, however, was the theological genius,

Hishām b. al-Ḥakam (d.179/795-6) who would later spearhead the
rationalist defence of imāmate doctrine in a series of famous disputations
with Mu‘tazilite opponents held in the presence of caliph Hārūn al-
Rashīd (r.170-193/786-809).8
When teaching his students, al-Ṣādiq made a definite distinction
between an ideal ‘true polity’ (dawlat al-ḥaqq) and the reigning ‘false polity’
(dawlat al-bāṭil) of his own time – that is, between a hoped for ‘just order’
(dawlat al-‘adl) and a prevailing condition of ‘temporary-truce’ (dawlat
al-hudnā). For his followers, he deemed the reigning false polity to be
‘the abode of precaution’ (dār al-taqiyya); al-Ṣādiq strongly emphasised the
need to exercise caution when dealing with the prevailing expectations and
attitudes of the dominant sections of society and of the powerful ruling
class. This insistence had a double motive: to safeguard his followers from
censure and punitive measures while also deflecting suspicion and baneful
consequences from al-Ṣādiq and the ahl al-bayt. Al-Ṣādiq counselled his
associates to:
Conduct yourselves with the people in accordance with their
characters, while differing from them in their deeds [khālaqū l-nāsa
bi-akhlāqihim wa khālafūhum bi-a‘mālihim]; for truly each man gets
what he earns, and on Resurrection Day he shall be in the company
of the one he loved. Do not induce people against yourselves nor
against us, and join in with the populace. Truly, we [the ahl al-bayt]
have a time and a rule which God shall bring about when He wills.9
This conceptualisation of a sought-for – and ultimately inevitable,
because it is divinely ordained – ‘true polity’ that, led by the ahl al-bayt,
sits in contrast to a prevailing ‘false polity’ conforms to the essentials of
Shi’a ideology. Moreover, according to al-Ṣādiq’s well-known instructions
to the reputable Kufan traditionalist, Sulaymān b. Mihrān al-A‘mash
(d.148/765), which listed the fundamental ritual and creedal obligations of
religion (sharā’i‘ al-dīn, or wājibāt),10 he also strongly emphasised walāya,
or love and devotion to the ahl al-bayt, matched by active dissociation
(al-bara’a) from their opponents. Repeated mention is also made of the
‘abode of taqiyya’, in addition to the impeccability of the prophets and
their legatees (i.e. the Shi’a imams). This again conforms to Shi’a doctrine.
In other respects, however, al-Ṣādiq carves out a position that differs
little with what is now majority Sunni opinion. For example, he upheld
the Qur’an as God’s speech, being “neither the Creator nor created,”
and argued that human deeds were accomplished through divine fore-
ordainment (khalq taqdīr). He also argued that faith (īmān) was superior
to simple obedience (islām), and could increase or diminish by means of
good or bad deeds. For him, faith stemmed from the acknowledgement of
the heart, the confession of the tongue, and the deeds of the limbs. Sinners,
however, remained muslim, even if immoral (fāsiq), but were not ‘people
of faith’ (mu’min). Those with a preponderance of sin (termed mustaḍ‘if)
might still find salvation, but dependent on God’s wish or by intercession.
Al-Ṣādiq completed this creedal affirmation by listing the major and minor
sins. The seven major sins were: idolatry (shirk), slaying the innocent soul,
breaking bonds of blood/kinship, fleeing after the advance of one’s army,
sequestering the property of orphans, consuming interest in financial
transactions, and falsely slandering married women. Included amongst
the minor sins were adultery, pederasty, consuming prohibited food, and
various blameworthy deeds, like extravagant indulgence and wasteful
consumption (al-isrāf wa l-tabdhīr). In general terms, these all conform to
the Sunni position.
Al-Ṣādiq also devoted considerable attention to explicating the role
of faith in human experience, including its multiple degrees and subtle
functions in higher human cognition. A significant aspect of his thought
centred on the role of intelligence (‘aql) in faith. On the inner dynamics
of prophecy and revelation, al-Ṣādiq specified a hierarchy of inspiration,
ranging from veridical dreams to clairvoyant audition to conscious eye-
witnessing (only by the Prophet). The purified consciousness of God’s
Intimate (walī, pl. awliyā’) would be receptive to inner promptings
vouchsafed through the auditory disclosures of angelic inspiration
(muḥaddath), but without eye-witnessing. This scheme evidently reflects
his own experience and was subsequently very influential in shaping the
emerging mystical doctrines of both Sunni and Shi’a Islam (for example,
see al-Ḥakīm al-Tirmidhī’s teaching on the ‘seal of sainthood’, later
expanded by Ibn al-‘Arabī).
All of al-Ṣādiq’s utterances invoked passages from the Qur’an in order
to explain his meaning and intent. These abundant explanatory citations
constitute the closest expression we have of his own inner-elucidation
(ta’wīl) of the Qur’an. Although several strands of tafsīr later appeared which
were (especially within Iraqi Sufi circles) attributed to him, the reality of
these connections remains uncertain.11 But whether they actually derived
from his work or not, this body of teachings retains great significance
for the mystical appropriation of the Qur’an amongst all sections of the
Muslim community.
Conclusion
The legacy of Ja‘far al-Ṣādiq is multi-levelled and extensive, touching on
many domains of thought and experience. His teachings were pressed
into service by a variety of doctrinal schools and intellectual disciplines,
both Sunni and Shi’a, all of whom sought to profit from his reputation
for wise guidance, religious acumen and shrewd insight. This association
with such an astonishing breadth of Islamic disciplines has rarely been
matched and is testimony to his relevance for our era. Regarding the
challenge of comprehending his ideas, al-Ṣādiq reputedly stated: “Our
discourse is difficult and painful to comprehend; none may endure it save
for a dispatched prophet, or an angel brought nigh, or a believer whose
heart God has tested for true-faith.” Despite the extensive literary records
we have preserving his teachings, the legendary accretions which still cloud
his historical actuality lend an irreducible aura of elusiveness to al-Ṣādiq.
Notes
1. Encyclopedia Iranica, s.v. ‘Ja‘far al-Ṣādeq.’
2. Consult Wilferd Madelung, The Succession to Muhammad: A Study of the
Early Caliphate (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997). This text
contains a detailed account, based on a judicious handling of the sources,
of the first four Caliphs and the first Muslim civil war. Most Muslims today
remain unaware of these events.
3. ‘Abd Allāh ibn Muslim ibn Qutayba, al-Ma‘ārif, ed. Tharwat ‘Ukāshah
(al-Qāhira: Dār al-Maʻārif, 1981), 215; Abū l-Faraj al-Isbahānī,
. Maqātil
al-Ṭālibiyīn, ed. A. Ṣaqr (Qum: Manshūrāt al-Sharīf al-Raḍī, 1995), 159.
Taking all data into consideration, one might place Duqduq’s death in
ca.116/733-4. It was also at around this time that al-Ṣādiq married his eldest
son, Ismā‘īl (d.ca.136/755), to Umm Ibrāhīm al-Makhzūmī, daughter of the
next Umayyad governor of Madinah, Ibrāhīm b. Hishām al-Makhzūmī (the
maternal uncle of Umayyad caliph, Hishām b. ‘Abd al-Mālik, r.106-125/724-
743). This marriage was probably arranged in order to help improve relations
with the ruling powers, see Mus‘ab . al-Zubayrī, Kitāb nasab Quraysh, ed. E.
Lévi-Provençal (al-Qāhira: Dār al-Maʻārif lil-Ṭibāʻa wa-al-Nashr, 1953), 63.
4. The obvious exception, however, is the oft-cited prophetic hadith known as the
“long narration of the Pilgrimage” (ḥadīth al-ḥajj al-ṭawīl). This is included
in five of the six Sunni canonical hadith collections and excerpted by Mālik b.
Anas (d.179/795) in his al-Muwaṭṭa’. The leading Sunni traditionalist, Yaḥyā
b. Sa‘īd al-Qattān
.. (d.198/813), also transmitted it directly from al-Ṣādiq,
whom he personally deemed reliable.
5. Consult the detailed study on al-Ṣādiq’s Sunni riwāyāt, Yasir Battikh, al-
Imām Ja‘far al-Ṣādiq wa Marwīyatuhu al-Ḥadīthiyya (Alexandria: Dār al-‘Ilm
wa l-īmān, 2008).
6. Al-Shāfi‘ī, in his Kitāb al-Umm, cited a number of narrations from al-Ṣādiq.
He also appealed to him for his qadīm corpus – the citations from which are
partly recoverable from al-Hāfiz
. . al-Bayhaqī’s massive al-Sunan al-Kubrā (see
the indices to the old Haydarābād
. edition of 1936, s.v. Ja‘far b. Muḥammad).
7. This conversation is preserved by Abū ʻAmr Muhammad . ibn ʻUmar al-Kashshī,
Ikhtiyār maʻrifat al-rijāl, al-maʻrūf bi-Rijāl al-Kashshī, ed. Muhammad. ibn
al-Hasan
. Tūsī
. and Hassan
. Mostafavi (Mashhad: Danishgah, 1970), §588,
324-5.
8. Al-Ṣādiq reputedly held disputations of his own with exponents of non-
Muslim traditions, including Daysānī . Gnostics, Manichaeans, natural
scientists and pagan philosophers. These disputations were later preserved
in the form of literary dialogues. They show al-Ṣādiq successfully defending
Islamic doctrine against subtle rationalist criticisms.
9. Muhammad
. ibn Muhammad
. al-Mufīd, Amālī al-Shaykh al-Mufīd: fīhi ithnān
wa-arbaʻūn majlisan taḥtawī ʻalá maʻtī maṭlab nafīs fī shatī al-buḥūth maʻa
isnādihā al-mawthūq bi-ṣudūrihā ʻan al-Nabī wa-āl baytihi al-aṭhar (al-Najaf:
al-Maṭbaʻa al-Ḥaydariyya, 1947), 15-7; §3 17.
10. These detailed instructions are found in Muhammad . ibn ʻAlī ibn Bābawayh,
Kitāb al-Khisāl,
. ed. ‘Alī Akbar al-Ghaffārī (Tihrān: Maktabat al-Ṣadūq,
1969), 603-10. According to al-Ṣādiq, there are six primary components
of faith: purity (e.g. ablution, properly repeated once or twice, not thrice),
prayer, zakāt, fasting, pilgrimage, and jihād.
11. A notable instance are the exegetical remarks ascribed to al-Ṣādiq in the
major Ḥaqā’iq al-tafsīr of ‘Abd al-Rahmān. al-Sulamī (d.412/1021).
Further Reading
Abū Zahrā, Muḥammad. Al-Imām al-Ṣādīq: ḥayātuh wa-‘aṣruh, ārā′uh wa-

fiqhuh. Al-Qāhira: Dār al-Fikr al-ʻArabī, 1964.
Al-Iṣbahānī, Abū l-Faraj. Maqātil al-Ṭālibiyīn. Edited by A. Ṣaqr. Qum:

Manshūrāt al-Sharīf al-Raḍī, 1995.
Al-Kashshī, Abū ʻAmr Muḥammad ibn ʻUmar. Ikhtiyār maʻrifat al-rijāl, al-maʻrūf
bi-Rijāl al-Kashshī. Edited by Muḥammad ibn al-Ḥasan Ṭūsī and Ḥassan
Mostafavi. Mashhad: Danishgah, 1970.
Al-Kulaynī, Muḥammad b. Ya‘qūb. Al-Kāfī fī ‘Ilm al-Dīn, 8 vols., 3rd edition.

Edited by ‘Alī Akbar al-Ghaffārī. Tihrān: Dār al- Kutub al-islāmiyat, 1953.
Al-Mufīd, Muḥammad ibn Muḥammad. Amālī al-Shaykh al-Mufīd: fīhi ithnān

wa-arbaʻūn majlisan taḥtawī ʻalá maʻtī maṭlab nafīs fī shatī al-buḥūth maʻa
isnādihā al-mawthūq bi-ṣudūrihā ʻan al-Nabī wa-āl baytihi al-aṭhar. Al-Najaf:
al-Maṭbaʻa al-Ḥaydariyya, 1947.
Al-Ṣādiq, Ja’far. The Lantern of the Path. Translated by Muna Bilgrami.

Shaftesbury: Element Books, 1989.
______________. Tawheed al-Mufadhdhal: As Dictated by Imam Ja‘far As-

Sadiq. Translated by Muhammad Ibrahim and Abdullah Shahin. Qumm,
Ansariyan, 2004.
Al-Zubayrī, Mus‘ab. Kitāb nasab Quraysh. Edited by E. Lévi-Provençal. Al-

Qāhira: Dār al-Maʻārif lil-Ṭibāʻa wa-al-Nashr, 1953.
Battikh, Yasir. Al-Imām Ja‘far al-Ṣādiq wa Marwīyatuhu al-Ḥadīthiyya.

Alexandria: Dār al-‘Ilm wa l-īmān, 2008.
Böwering, Gerhard. ‘Isnād, Ambiguity and the Qur’ān Commentary of Ja‘far al-
Ṣādiq.’ In Shi‘ite Heritage: Essays on Classical and Modern Traditions, edited
by Lynda Clarke, 63-74. Binghampton, NY: Global Publications, 2001.
Buckley, Ronald Paul. ‘Ja‘far al-Ṣādiq as a Source of Šhi‘i Traditions.’ Islamic

Quarterly 43, no. 1 (1999): 37-58.
______________. ‘The Imam Ja‘far al-Ṣādiq, Abū’l-Khaṭṭāb and the Abbasids.’

Der Islam 79, no. 1 (2002): 118-140.
Fahd, Toufic. La divination arabe: Etudes religieuses, sociologiques et folkloriques

sur le milieu natif de l’islam. Leiden: Brill, 1966.
Gleaves, Robert. ‘Between Hadith and Fiqh: The ‘Canonical’ Imāmī Collections
of Akhbār.’ Islamic Law and Society 8, no. 3 (2001): 350-382.
Haydar, Asad. Al-Imām al-Ṣādīq wa l-Madhāhib al-Arba‘ah, 3 vols., 2nd edition.

Bayrūt: Dār al-Kitāb al-ʻArabī, 1969.
Ibn Bābawayh, Muḥammad ibn ʻAlī. Kitāb al-Khiṣāl. Edited by ‘Alī Akbar al-
Ghaffārī. Tihrān: Maktabat al-Ṣadūq, 1969.
Ibn Qutayba, ‘Abd Allāh ibn Muslim. Al-Ma‘ārif. Edited by Tharwat ‘Ukāshah,
Al-Qāhira: Dār al-Maʻārif, 1981.
Kraus, Paul. Jābir Ibn Ḥayyān: Contribution à l’historie des idées scientifiques
dans l’islam, Mémoires de l’Institut d’Égypte no. 44. Hildesheim: Georg Olms
Verlag, 1989.
Loebenstein, Judith. ‘Miracles in Ši‘i Thought: A Case Study of the Miracles

Attributed to Imām Ja‘far al-Ṣādiq.’ Arabica 50, no. 2 (2003): 199-244.
Madelung, Wilferd. The Succession to Muhammad: A Study of the Early Caliphate.

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997.
Muzaffar,
. Muhammed
. Ḥusayn. al-Imām al-Ṣādiq. Translated by Jasim al-
Rasheed. Qumm: Ansariyan Publications, 1998.
Nwyia, Paul. ‘Le Tafsir mystique attribué à Ğa‘far Ṣādiq: edition critique.’
Mélanges de l’Université St.-Joseph no. 43 (1967): 179-230.
Zadeh, Ensieh Nasrollahi. ‘The Qur’an Commentary Attributed to Imam Ja‘far

Sadiq (a.s.): A Study of its Dating and Interpretive Method.’ Unpublished PhD
Thesis, University of Birmingham, 2003.
5
Abū Ḥanīfa Nu‘mān ibn Thābit
(80–150AH/699–767CE)
Karim D. Crow
Nu‘mān ibn Thābit ibn Zūṭā (80–150AH/699–767CE), better known

as either Abū Ḥanīfa or as ‘the Grand Imam’ (al-Imām al-A‛ẓam), is one
of early Islam’s most important intellectual figures. Through him, the
foundations of a rational legal methodology were laid, thereby promoting
the conceptualisation of normative universal legal principles via both
rational methods and consideration of social utility and benefit. His
advocacy of rationalist procedures for deducing case law, however, meant
that Abū Ḥanīfa aroused much controversy amongst his contemporary
Muslim jurists – especially from certain proponents of hadith-based
jurisprudence (ahl al-ḥadīth). Traditionalist-orientated jurists viewed
his methods, based on independent reasoning (ijtihād), especially with
regard to analogical reasoning (qiyās) and juristic preference (istiḥsān),
as a threat to the legal validity of the Prophetic traditions. Abū Ḥanīfa’s
theological views were also a matter of controversy, leading his critics to
label him a Murji’ite – although he himself disavowed this term.1
In all, Abū Ḥanīfa lived for seventy lunar years – fifty-two under
the Umayyad caliphs (whose decline and fall he witnessed) and eighteen
years under the first two ‛Abbāsid caliphs, Abū al-‘Abbās al-Saffāḥ
(r.132-136/750-754) and Abū Ja’far al-Manṣūr (r.136-158/754-775).
He was a man of deep social conscience whose political sympathies and
conspicuous opposition to ruling regimes brought him into conflict, first
with the Umayyads, and then the ‛Abbāsids. Abū Ḥanīfa was also an
outspoken critic of errors commitment by his contemporary judges and
legal scholars.
A Very Short Biography

Born in the thriving city of Kufa, in lower Iraq, then a major centre of legal
learning, Abū Ḥanīfa grew up under the rule of the powerful Umayyad
governor, al-Ḥajjāj b. Yūsuf (d.95/714). Abū Ḥanīfa’s father, Thābit, was
probably a Kabul merchant of Persian ancestry whose father, Zūṭā, had
become a Muslim client. Other reports, however, assert that one of Abū
Ḥanīfa’s forefathers was a Sassanian provincial military warden who had
been stationed in Anbar (central Mesopotamia).
When Abū Ḥanīfa reached maturity, he became an independently
wealthy silk merchant (khazzāz); he owned a large building for silk
manufacture and employed a number of workers and artisans. He therefore
had extensive practical experience of business, commerce and finance –
something most jurists lacked. Throughout his life, he became noted for
liberally bestowing his wealth upon his students and other impoverished
religious scholars.
Abū Ḥanīfa began his ambitious intellectual career by applying himself
to dialectical theology (kalām). Quickly rising to prominence in this field,
he became highly regarded throughout Kufa for his disputations against
sectarians. In this regard, he made more than twenty trips to Basra to
engage in debates with the Khārijites. Eventually, however, Abū Ḥanīfa
became disillusioned with the polemical intent of the disputations, viewing
them as a source of division and, therefore, as something contrary to the
Sunna of the Prophet and his Companions. Convinced of the superiority
of legal knowledge, Abū Ḥanīfa therefore devoted himself to the study of
Islamic law, taking as his mentor the prominent Kufan faqīh, Ḥammād
ibn Abī Sulaymān (d.120/737), a former student of the renowned Ibrāhīm
al-Nakha‛ī (d.96/715). Abū Ḥanīfa remained under Ḥammād’s tutelage for
eighteen years, later assuming the leadership of his juridical circle after his
death. Ultimately, Abū Ḥanīfa studied under a wide range of authorities,
both Sunni and Shi‛a. Amongst the latter were the leading ‛Alids, Zayd
b. ‛Alī (d.122/740), Muḥammad al-Bāqir (d.114/732) and Ja‛far al-Ṣādiq
(d.148/765), all of whom Abū Ḥanīfa deemed qualified to exercise ijtihād
(independent legal reasoning).2
In ca.120/738, Zayd b. ‛Alī mounted an anti-Umayyad revolt. Abū
Ḥanīfa provided his moral and financial support to this (ultimately
unsuccessful) movement, issuing fatwas in support of Zayd’s cause. After
the movement’s defeat, however, these resulted in the Umayyad governor
of Kufa and Basra, Yazīd ibn Hubayrah (d.132/750), sentencing Abū
Ḥanīfa to a severe flogging. Abū Ḥanīfa subsequently sought political
ABŪ ḤANĪFA NU‘MĀN IBN THĀBIT 41
refuge in Makkah, where he remained for over ten years. Indeed, he

only returned to Kufa after the ‘Abbāsids came to power in 132/750.
Nevertheless, the Islamic principle of ‘enjoining right and forbidding
wrong’ meant that Abū Ḥanīfa never remained silent in the face of an
oppressive ruler; more than twenty years later, in 145/762–3, he openly
supported another two uprisings, this time against the ‘Abbāsids. Led by
two Ḥasanid descendants of the Banū Hāshim, Muḥammad and Ibrāhīm
ibnay ‛Abd Allāh, although they came close to defeating the ‛Abbāsid
caliph, al-Manṣūr, their revolt was crushed. Afterwards, al-Manṣūr
sought to co-opt Abū Ḥanīfa by appointing him to a high-ranking
administrative position in the newly built ‘Abbāsid capital, Baghdad. But,
out of a scrupulous integrity, Abū Ḥanīfa repeatedly refused this mandated
position – in effect rejecting al-Manṣūr’s legitimacy and authority. Abū
Ḥanīfa therefore spent the final two years of his life in prison. When he
died, six funeral prayers had to be conducted in succession because of the
massive crowds.
The Ḥanafī Law School

There are three fundamental principles underlying the Hanafī
. legal school.
The first is the pre-eminent position it accords analogical reasoning (qiyās), a
rational method of legal generalisation. Certainly, this principle is awarded
greater authority amongst the Ḥanafīs than amongst the other Islamic
legal schools. The second fundamental principle is ta‛mīm al-adilla, or the
fullest logical (or rational) generalisation of established legal precepts. By
this principle, the legal statements of the Qur’an and principal legal hadith
are given the broadest reasonable authority according to their general
implications, being treated as universal legal decrees. The third distinctive
feature of Abū Ḥanīfa’s legal thought is its reliance upon the ‘hypothetical
method’, or legal speculation. This method, frowned upon by most of
Abū Ḥanīfa’s contemporaries, who felt it should be restricted to actual
problems as they occurred, was justified by Abū Ḥanīfa as a suitable means
of preparing for calamities before they happened – i.e. of knowing how
to extricate oneself from a problem before it appeared. This hypothetical
method was well suited to Abū Ḥanīfa’s reliance on qiyās, enabling both
him and his students to group a wide variety of legal questions together
in accordance with a single effective cause (‛illah) applicable to them all.
This greatly facilitated the first systematic compilation of a Ḥanafī legal
compendia, which in turn provoked the compilation of similar legal
collections in the other schools.
Abū Ḥanīfa’s method of qiyās involved making distinctions between

normative (i.e. universal) and non-normative (i.e. exceptional) aspects
of the law. He deemed it valid to use qiyās only on the basis of what is
normative. Therefore, for every fundamental aspect of the law, Abū Ḥanīfa
identified those Qur’anic verses, hadith, and teachings of the Companions
which best exemplified the relevant underlying precept – and employed
them as principal ratio legis when solving unprecedented legal questions.
The disputes between Abū Ḥanīfa and the advocates of hadith therefore
revolved primarily around his rejection of those isolated hadith whose
apparent legal implications contradicted his conception of the normative
principles of the law.
Abū Ḥanīfa is also known for his reliance on ‘preferred exceptional
rulings’ (istiḥsān). Forming a counterpart to qiyās, this principle aims
to make reasonable modifications to inferential precepts when strict
application of the general precept is no longer appropriate due to special
circumstances. In the Mālikī School, istiḥsān is based primarily upon a
consideration of the principle of maṣlaḥa (individual and social benefit).
Ḥanafī istiḥsān, however, is more frequently employed by referring the
solution to the relevant problem to a less obvious cause with a more
favourable social benefit, thereby reflecting the primacy of qiyās in the
Ḥanafī School.3
Concerning the commonly-held view associating Abū Ḥanīfa with
both ijtihād and the minimising of hadith in the creation of legal rulings,
Umar Abd-Allah states that:
…although the use of [ijtihād al-]ra’y is an essential part of Hanafite
legal theory, it was always combined with the systematic use of
Hadith but in accord with special stipulations. Furthermore the
use of [ijtihād al-]ra’y is no more prominent in the Hanafite school
than it was in the Malikite, which seems…to have given greater
scope to its use than Abū Ḥanīfah. [The Hanafites later] rejected the
Malikite principles of sadd al-dharā’i‛ (obstruction of legal fictions),
and [their] concept of istiḥsān al-ḍarūrah (preferred exceptional
rulings based on absolute necessity) does not appear to be as broad
as the Malikite principle of al-maṣāliḥ al-mursalah (unprecedented
rulings based on social need), which in many ways is the pinnacle of
Malikite legal thought.4
ABŪ ḤANĪFA NU‘MĀN IBN THĀBIT 43
Legacy
Immediately after his death, Abū Ḥanīfa’s legal teachings were gathered
together and transmitted by his two pupils, Abū Yūsuf (d.182/798) and
Muḥammad b. al-Ḥasan al-Shaybānī (d.189/805), both of whom served
as official ‛Abbāsid qāḍīs (judges). The qāḍī of Balkh, Abū Muṭī‛ al-Ḥakam
b. ‘Abd Allāh (d.183/799), also helped transmit Abū Ḥanīfa’s teachings.
The legal compilations each of these authors assembled (and which also
included their own independent legal opinions) came to constitute the
primary documents of the Ḥanafī juridical school. The writings of al-
Shaybānī in particular aided in the theoretical development of Ḥanafī legal
thought, and evidenced both a more rigorous and systematic application
of judicial reasoning and a deeper concern for hadith – features reflected
in the work of one of al-Shaybānī’s last pupils, the famed jurist al-Shāfi‛ī
(d.204/819).
Through the labours of Abū Ḥanīfa, the Kufan legal school reached its
apogee. As the great modern Egyptian scholar, Jalāl al-Dīn al-Suyūṭī, has
pointed out:
[Abū Ḥanīfa] was the first to record the science of the Sharia and to
arrange it in chapters; afterwards Mālik b. Anas followed him in the
arrangement of his Muwaṭṭa’ – and no one preceded Abū Ḥanīfa in
this.5
The selection and arrangement of legal questions and topics under
definite rubrics (abwāb) represented an original and important contribution
to Islamic legal discussions generally. This astute silk merchant, legal
mentor and brilliant jurist elevated the method of generalisation,
allowing his school to extrapolate from Qur’an and hadith a set of general
normative legal principles. Abū Ḥanīfa’s emphasis on qiyās gave Hanafī
thought its tendency towards systemisation and theoretical elaboration;
his intense concern for maintaining flexibility in legal applications via
istiḥsān represented a triumph for rational legal methods informed by keen
social sensitivity. All this set a lofty tone for later Islamic legal practice and
theory.
By the late second/eighth century, a Ḥanafī presence had taken root
amongst both the Turks of eastern Khurasan (in Central Asia) and the
ruling dynasties based in the east (such as the Samanids). By the fifth/
eleventh century, the Seljuq Turks had also became champions of the law
school, coupling it with the Māturidī theology (formed in the Hanafī
circles of Transoxiana). Later, the Ottoman Turks would also adhere
to Hanafī jurisprudence, while today the Hanafī School represents the

Islamic world’s most numerous madhhab: from Eastern Europe to India to
China, close to thirty percent of the world’s Muslims adhere to it.
Notes
1. The negative connotations surrounding the term ‘Murji’ite’ stem from its
early usage as a label for those deemed to be excessively lenient towards sins
thought not to impair one’s faith (īmān) as a Muslim. It may have been the
Khārijites who first accused Abū Ḥanīfa of this, see M. Abū Zahra, Abū
Ḥanīfa: ḥayātuhu wa ‛aṣruhu, ārā’uhu wa fiqhuhu, 2nd ed. (Cairo: Dār al-
Fikr al-ʻArabī, 1965), 161–76.
2. See Abū Zahra, Abū Ḥanīfa, 66–72. Madelung observed considerable
similarity between Zaydī and Ḥanafī law, see Wilferd Madelung, Der Imām
al-Qāsim ibn Ibrāhīm und die Glaubenslehre der Zaiditen (Berlin: de Gruyter,
1965), 54.
3. See the detailed overview by Abū Zahra, Abū Ḥanīfah, 234–434. Also, see
Saim Kayadibi, Istihsan: The Doctrine of Juristic Preference in Islamic Law (Kuala
Lumpur: Islamic Book Trust, 2010), 115–33. For the English-rendering of
legal terminology, we rely on Umar Abd-Allah’s succinct treatment in his
Encyclopaedia Iranica article.
4. Encyclopaedia Iranica, s.v. ‘Abū Ḥanīfah.’
5. Mahmūd
. . Tabyīḍ al-ṣaḥīfa bi-manāqib Abī Ḥanīfa (Beirut: Dār al-
Suyūtī,
Kutub al-ʻIlmīya, 1990), 129.
Further Reading
Abū Zahra, M. Abū Ḥanīfa: ḥayātuhu wa ‛aṣruhu, ārā’uhu wa fiqhuhu, 2nd ed.
Cairo: Dār al-Fikr al-ʻArabī, 1965.
Kayadibi, Saim. Istihsan: The Doctrine of Juristic Preference in Islamic Law. Kuala
Lumpur: Islamic Book Trust, 2010.
Madelung, Wilferd. Der Imām al-Qāsim ibn Ibrāhīm und die Glaubenslehre der
Zaiditen. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1965.
Ṣuyūṭī, Maḥmūd. Tabyīḍ al-ṣaḥīfa bi-manāqib Abī Ḥanīfa. Beirut: Dār al-Kutub
al-ʻIlmīya, 1990.
6
-
Mālik Bin Anas al-Asbahi
. .
(93-179AH/711-795CE)
Tawfique al-Mubarak
Imam Mālik’s full name was Mālik ibn Anas ibn Mālik ibn Abī ‘Āmir
al-Ḥimyarī al-Aṣbaḥī al-Madanī. His ancestors originated from Aṣbaḥ in
Yemen, later settling in Madinah – the city of the Prophet. Although most
sources date Imam Mālik’s birth to 93AH/711CE, Abū Isḥāq al-Shīrāzī
(d.476/1083), in his Ṭabaqāt al-fuqahā’, has it in 95/713.
Imam Mālik was raised in a family widely known for its scholarly
contributions. Al-Dhahabī (d.748/1348), in his Siyar a‘lām al-nubalā’,
mentions that the great-grandfather of Imam Mālik, Abū ‘Āmir, was a
Companion of the Prophet who participated in all of the major early
Islamic battles, except the battle of Badr. Imam Mālik’s grandfather, on
the other hand, also called Mālik, was a Successor (tābi‘ī) who narrated
hadith from the venerable Companions of the Prophet, including the third
Caliph, ‘Uthmān ibn ‘Affān. He also reputedly joined the group of people
who transcribed the Qur’an into the Qurayshī style of recitation during
the reign of ‘Uthmān. This signifies the social position Imam Mālik’s
family occupied, including their long relationship with Islam and its ‘ilm
(knowledge).1
The young Imam Mālik reportedly liked to play with pigeons and
to sing. His brother, Naḍr, on the other hand, was well-known for his
wisdom. Once, their father asked them both a question, which only Naḍr
was able to answer. As a result, Imam Mālik was scolded by his father, who
told him that his pigeons were keeping him away from seeking knowledge.
Soon afterwards, Imam Mālik went to his mother, ‘Āliya bint Sharīk, and
told her that he would like to take up singing as a profession. In response,
she gave him a very intelligent answer: instead of refuting his interests,
she told him that he would also need to be good looking to be a good
singer. This crushed his interest. These two incidents, however, changed
Imam Mālik’s aspirations and attitude; they prompted him to study more
earnestly with his shaykh, Ibn Hurmuz. Indeed, he soon began to excel in
knowledge until, instead of being known as ‘the brother of Naḍr’, Naḍr
became known as ‘Mālik’s brother’.2
Imam Mālik was blessed to have been born in the holy city of Madinah,
then Islam’s seat of learning. Imam Yaḥyā Sharaf al-Nawawī claims
Imam Mālik had nine hundred teachers in Madinah, three hundred of
whom were from the ranks of the Successors (tābi‘ūn), and the other six
hundred from among the Successors of the Successors (tābi‘ al-tābi‘ūn).
From amongst the Successors, the most prominent of his teachers were
Ibn Hurmuz, Rabī‘a al-Raý, Ibn Shihāb al-Zuhrī, Nāfi‘ (the freedman of
‘Abd Allāh ibn ‘Umar), Ayyūb al-Sakhtiyānī, Sa‘īd al-Maqburī, ‘Āmir ibn
‘Abd Allāh ibn Zubayr, Ibn al-Munkadir, ‘Abd Allāh ibn Dīnār, Ja‘far al-
Ṣādiq, Abū Ḥanīfa, al-Awzā‘ī, Sufyān al-Thawrī, Shu‘ba, Zayd ibn Aslam,
‘Alqama and his uncle Uwais, and Rabī‘. In addition to these figures, al-
Dhahabī mentions another ninety-five shaykhs from whom Imam Mālik
narrated the hadith reports in his magnum opus, the Muwaṭṭa’.3
Unlike the other great Imams of the Sunni Schools of fiqh, Imam
Mālik never set foot outside Madinah. Intriguingly, a saying from the
Holy Prophet, narrated by Abū Mūsā al-Ash‘arī, states that: “People from
the East and the West will spread out in search of knowledge, and they
shall find none more knowledgeable than the knowledgeable scholar
of Madinah.” The majority of scholars favour the opinion that the
“knowledgeable scholar” mentioned in this hadith is none other than Imam
Mālik. Certainly, the Successor of the Successors, Ibn ‘Uyayna, and despite
originally considering the great Successor Sa‘īd ibn al-Musayyab to be the
most knowledgeable of Madinan scholars, finally became convinced that it
was indeed none other than Mālik ibn Anas.4 Undoubtedly, Imam Mālik
was appreciated for his dedication to knowledge. Certainly, his teacher,
Ibn Hurmuz, permitted him free access to his house for the purpose of
study, a privilege not extended to others. Imam Mālik studied under Ibn
Hurmuz continuously, from morning to night, for eight years. Ibn Shihāb
al-Zuhrī, another of Imam Mālik’s famous teachers, described him as the
best vessel for knowledge.5
Qāḍī ‘Iyāḍ mentions in his Tartīb al-madārik fī taqrīb al-masālik that
Imam Mālik began teaching during the lifetime of his teacher, Nāfi‘, or at
about age seventeen. His classroom (ḥalaqa) was supposedly larger than
Nāfi‘’s, reflecting his credentials as a learned scholar. According to one
report, his students numbered more than thirteen hundred. Al-Ḥāfiẓ Abū
MĀLIK BIN ANAS AL-ASBAHI
. .¯ 47
Bakr al-Khaṭīb al-Baghdādī reported that about nine-hundred and ninety-

three of Imam Mālik’s pupils narrated the Muwaṭṭa’ from him. The most
prominent amongst his students were Imam al-Shāfi‘ī, Imam Abū Yūsuf
and Imam Muḥammad ibn al-Ḥasan al-Shaybānī.6
Out of a love and respect for the Holy Prophet, Imam Mālik was
very meticulous when recording hadith, observing great caution in their
collection. He would never narrate any hadith unless sure of its accuracy.
He would also dress in the best of clothes, wear the best of perfumes, and
burn incense (bukhūr) while delivering his hadith lectures.7 Certainly, his
respect and love for the Prophet and his sayings were beyond description.
Another of his students, ‘Abd Allāh ibn al-Mubārak, describes how one
day Imam Mālik was narrating a hadith during a class when his face
suddenly turned yellow. After everyone had left, Ibn al-Mubārak asked
the Imam about this unusual event. The Imam replied that he had been
stung sixteen times by a scorpion during the class. He had not, however,
wished to interrupt the discourse in order to show honour to the hadith
of the Prophet!8
Imam Mālik was once asked why he did not accept hadith from ‘Amr
ibn Dīnār. He replied that he had once gone to him and found him
narrating hadith while standing; Imam Mālik considered the sayings of the
Prophet to be too honourable and majestic to be narrated while standing.9
Mus‘ab ibn ‘Abd Allāh claimed that whenever the Prophet was mentioned,
the Imam’s colour would change and he would bow. He also never rode
along the roads of Madinah out of respect for the Prophet, even when he
was old and weak. When asked about this, he replied: “I will not ride in a
city in which is buried the body of the Prophet.”10
Like all other Imams, Imam Mālik was persecuted, flogged and
imprisoned. Thus, during the Imam’s lifetime the governor of Madinah
was a cousin of the then caliph, Abū Ja‘far al-Manṣūr (r.136-158/754-
775), and demanded that all citizens swear an oath of allegiance to the
caliph. Imam Mālik, however, stated that such an oath, obtained under
coercion, was invalid and nullified. Upon hearing this, the governor
arrested Imam Mālik and had him flogged and imprisoned.11 However,
the caliph subsequently came to Imam Mālik in person, apologised for his
governor’s conduct and punished the latter accordingly.
The Muwaṭṭa’
Imam Mālik’s greatest contribution to Islamic civilisation was undoubtedly
his Muwaṭṭa’, the first compilation of authentic hadith, all categorised
under different chapters and themes of fiqh. This text also carries the
unique attribution of being the first complete Islamic work after the Holy
Qur’an. Imam Mālik chose less than a thousand authentic hadith for the
Muwaṭṭa’ , out of close to a hundred thousand he had collected.
The Muwaṭṭa’ was compiled over the course of forty years, after which
Imam Mālik presented it to seventy great scholars of Madinah, all of whom
approved of it (waṭṭa’ ‘alaihi).12 Indeed, it was on the basis of their approval
that the name Muwaṭṭa’ was adopted (although this word also means
‘something made easy’, reflecting the fact that the book was compiled to
make the teachings of Islam easy for laymen to follow).
Imam al-Shāfi‘ī testified that the Muwaṭṭa’ was the most authentic
Islamic book after the Qur’an (Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī, to which this term is
usually applied, was not compiled until after the demise of Imam al-
Shāfi‘ī). Certainly, the Muwaṭṭa’ is our connecting bridge to the world of
authentic hadith, as all later compilations are founded upon it. Perhaps for
this reason, the narrators of the Muwaṭṭa’ have been quite numerous. In his
Tanwīr al-ḥawālik, Imam al-Suyūṭī mentions about fourteen narrations.
Other reports, however, confirm the existence of more than sixty. Among
these, that of Yaḥyā ibn Yaḥyā ibn Kathīr ibn Waslās al-Laithī al-Andalusī
(d.234/848), the religious scholar who spread the Mālikī madhhab to Spain,
is the most well-known and widely accepted. However, his version misses
out three chapters of the Book of I‘tikāf because he came to Madinah in
the year 179/795-6, before Imam Mālik had completed these sections.13
The narration of Imam Muḥammad ibn al-Ḥasan al-Shaybānī is also well-
known, and often differentiated as ‘The Muwaṭṭa’ of Imām Muḥammad’
because it contains the latter’s commentary on the Muwaṭṭa’ itself.14
It is reported that the caliph once approached Imam Mālik and
proposed that the Muwaṭṭa’ be adopted as the official guide for Islamic
practice across the ‘Abbāsid Empire. Imam Mālik, however, refused,
saying that the Companions had differed among themselves and tolerated
disagreement, and this practice should continue.
Imam Mālik’s Contributions to Uṣūl al-Fiqh

Although Imām Mālik’s outstanding contributions to the field of hadith
studies have resulted in him being known as the Imām ahl al-ḥadīth
(Leader of the People of Hadith), the most well-known of his doctrines
of uṣūl al-fiqh – namely, ‘aml ahl al-Madīnah (common practices of the
people of Madinah), istiṣlāḥ (public interest) and sadd al-dharā’i‘ (blocking
of the means) – are actually based on his personal reasoning (ra’y). It is
MĀLIK BIN ANAS AL-ASBAHI
. .¯ 49
therefore not surprising to find Imam Abū Zahra assert that Imam Mālik
was not only the leading figure of the ahl al-ḥadīth, but also of the ahl al-
ra’y.15 Concerning the details of Imam Mālik’s doctrines of usūl. al-fiqh, the
following summarises the most important points.
‘Aml ahl al-Madīnah: Imam Mālik reasoned that the people of Madinah
had witnessed the practices of both the Prophet and the Companions
first-hand, later passing that information on to subsequent generations,
making those practices common in Madinah. He therefore felt that any
undisputed Madinan practices which did not contradict the Qur’an and
Sunna should be accepted as a valid source of fiqh.
Istiṣlāḥ: literally meaning ‘in search of benefit or welfare’, this doctrine
was aimed at securing benefit for the people and protecting them from
harm – which is, in fact, the purpose of the Sharia. Imam Mālik used this
doctrine to validate levying additional taxes on the wealthy whenever the
public treasury ran out, in order to protect the lives and properties of the
general populace.16
Sadd al-dharā’i‘: this doctrine of ‘blocking the means’ entailed that any
means towards an end which is ḥarām is also ḥarām itself. Similarly, any
means towards something wājib is also to be considered wājib. As a result,
however, the means to anything ḥarām should be blocked in order not
to indulge in the ḥarām act itself. Based on this doctrine, Mālikī fiqh has
forbidden the sale of grapes to wine-makers and the sale of arms during
times of conflict and chaos.
Imam Mālik’s many marvellous contributions to Islamic civilisation
will ensure that he is never forgotten. A life-long resident of Madinah, he
is rightly remembered as the ‘Imam of the Abode of Emigration (hijra)’.
Although he did not migrate himself, people certainly migrated to him in
search of knowledge.
Notes
1. Hesham al-Awadi, ‘The Four Great Imams,’ Kalamullah. Available at: http://
www.kalamullah.com/hesham-alawadi.html. (Accessed on: 14th June 2016).
2. Ibid.
3. See Mālik bin Anas, Muwaṭṭa’ al-Imām Mālik (riwāyatan: Yaḥyā ibn Yaḥyā
al-Laithī) (Beirut: Dār al-Nafā’is, 2001).
4. G. F. Haddad, ‘Imam Malik,’ As-Sunnah Foundation of America. Available
at: http://www.sunnah.org/publication/khulafa_rashideen/malik.htm.
(Accessed on 14th June 2016).
5. Al-Awadi, ‘The Four Great Imams.’
6. See Muhammad ibn al-Hasan al-Shaybani, The Muwatta of Imam Muhammad
(London: Turath Publishing, 2004).
7. Islamic Encyclopedia, s.v. ‘Malik Ibn Anas.’

8. Al-Shaybani, Muwatta of Imam Muhammad.
9. Islamic Encyclopedia, ‘Malik Ibn Anas.’
11. Ibid.
12. Mālik, Muwaṭṭa’.
13. Ibid.
15. Mohammad Hashim Kamali, Shari’ah Law: An Introduction (Oxford:
Oneworld, 2008).
16. Ibid.
Further Reading
Al-Awadi, Hesham. ‘The Four Great Imams.’ Kalamullah. Available at: http://
www.kalamullah.com/hesham-alawadi.html
Haddad, G. F. ‘Imam Malik.’ As-Sunnah Foundation of America. Available at:

http://www.sunnah.org/publication/khulafa_rashideen/malik.htm.
Ibn al-Hasan al-Shaybani, Muhammad. The Muwatta of Imam Muhammad.

London: Turath Publishing, 2004.
Kamali, Mohammad Hashim. Shari’ah Law: An Introduction. Oxford: Oneworld,

2008.
Mālik bin Anas. Muwaṭṭa’ al-Imām Mālik (riwāyatan: Yaḥyā ibn Yaḥyā al-Laithī).
Beirut: Dār al-Nafā’is, 2001.
7
Muhammad
. ibn Idrīs al-Shāfi‘ī
(150-204AH/767-820CE)
Karim D. Crow and Mahbubi Ali
Muḥammad ibn Idrīs al-Shāfi‘ī (d. 30 Rajab 204AH/20 January 820CE)

had a profound impact on the foundation of Islamic legal theory during
the late second/eighth century. He was the first leading jurist to pioneer
the formulation of Islamic legal theory, for which reason he is often
referred to as the father of uṣūl fiqh. Even until today, many Muslims
continue to revere him as the nāṣir al-sunna (defender of the Sunna) who
established one of Islam’s foremost legal schools and reconciled hadith-
based jurisprudence with ijtihād-based fiqh. This integration of received
tradition and rationalism still offers an important model for Muslims
today. Indeed, his school of thought is the second most popular, after the
Ḥanafī madhhab.
Early Career and Training

Born near the town of Asqalan in 150/767, Imam al-Shāfi‘ī was an eighth–
generation descendant of the Quraysh nobleman, Hāshim b. al-Muṭṭalib
b. Abd Manāf, a first cousin of the Prophet Muhammad’s grandfather,
‘Abd al-Muṭṭalib b. Hāshim b. ‘Abd Manāf of the Banū Hāshim. Al-Shāfi‘ī
would later take great pride in his descent from the Prophet’s family, feeling
that it imposed upon him a special responsibility to look after the welfare
of the Muslim community.
Imam al-Shāfi‘ī came from a poor family. His father passed away in
Syria when he was about two years old, after which his mother took him
back to Makkah to be with his paternal relatives. Although his mother
raised him alone and in poverty, she insisted he embark on the pursuit of
knowledge and scholarship. While in Makkah, therefore, al-Shāfi‘ī managed
to memorise the Qur’an by age seven, after which he devoted himself to

legal studies under the guidance of his first teacher, the Makkan Mufti
Muslim b. Khālid al-Zanjī (d.179/795). He also benefited from contact
with Makkah’s leading hadith authorities, including Sufyān b. ‘Uyaynah
(d.199/815), and studied al-Muwaṭṭa’, the important collection of legal
precedents compiled by Mālik b. Anas (d.179/795), the outstanding legal
expert of Madinah. Indeed, he managed to memorise al-Muwaṭṭa’ by age
ten, three years before he went to Madinah to study this book with Mālik
himself. When al-Shāfi‘ī proved himself capable of reciting sections of
the al-Muwaṭṭa’ from memory, Imam Mālik became so impressed that he
advised his earnest young pupil to “be conscious of God and steer clear
of deeds of disobedience, for you are destined to achieve great things;
God the Exalted has cast a light on your heart, so do not extinguish it by
disobedience!” (The phrase ‘a light in the heart’ denotes abundant insight
and penetrating intelligence).
By age fifteen, al-Shāfi‘ī was back in Makkah and deemed competent
enough to issue his own fatwas (legal opinions). He was thus trained in
both the Makkan and the Madinan Sharia schools of the Hijaz (west-
central Arabia). When Imam Mālik passed away in 179/795, al-Shāfi’ī
was already regarded as a leading and brilliant jurist. Though he ultimately
disagreed with Imam Mālik on several issues, he nevertheless continued to
respect his old mentor, referring to him as “the teacher (al-ustadh)”. His
respect for Imam Mālik is also reflected in his famous statement: “If it were
not for Malik and Sufyan [b. ‘Uyaynah], the knowledge of the people of
Hijaz would have gone.”
As a young man, al-Shāfi‘ī also took a keen interest in linguistics and
poetry, taking Ibn Abī Ruwād and ‘Abd Allāh al-Makhzūmī as his teachers
and memorising almost ten thousand lines of poetry. He also spent over
ten years residing with the northern branch of the Hijazi Hudhayl tribe;
exposure to the pure speech of this Bedouin group honed his expertise
in Arabic. With this experience behind him, he sought and gained
employment with the Governor of northern Yemen, who appointed him
to administer the city of Najran. Al-Shāfi‘ī soon found, however, that his
innate sense of integrity and justice clashed with the self-interested agenda
of the Governor. Certainly, al-Shāfi‘ī’s moral counsel was not appreciated,
the Governor viewing him as a thorn in his side. As such, the Governor
took advantage of al-Shāfi‘ī’s noble heritage to falsely accuse him (along
with eight others) of conspiring with pro-‘Alid groups to overthrow the
central ‘Abbāsid authorities in Baghdad. Because the ‘Abbāsid caliphs were
wary of revolutionary challenges from the Banū Hāshim, they readily gave
MUḤAMMAD IBN IDRĪS AL-SHĀFI‘Ī 53
credence to the unfounded charges; in 184/801, caliph Hārūn al-Rashīd

had al-Shāfi‘ī taken to Baghdad and interviewed at court. Fortunately,
however, Muḥammad b. al-Ḥasan al-Shaybānī (d.189/805), a former
disciple of the great Kufan jurist, Abū Ḥanīfa (d.150/767), and a leading
Iraqi scholar and judge, was also present at court that day. He immediately
realised al-Shāfi‘ī’s unique qualities and intervened with the caliph to secure
his release. By this twist of fate, at the age of thirty-four al-Shāfi‘ī became
attached to al-Shaybānī and, forsaking government service altogether,
plunged himself back into the pursuit of Islamic legal practice. With al-
Shaybānī, al-Shāfi‘ī acquired experience of the rationalist procedures of
the Iraqi jurists, cultivating his ‘inferential reasoning’ (qiyās) and learning
to apply ‘independent rational effort’ (ijtihād and ra’y) when solving new
cases and determining legal rulings.
Tradition and Reason
Second/eighth century Islamic legal thought was characterised by a strong
tension between strict traditionalists (the ahl al-ḥadīth, or ‘people of
the hadith’) who, based mainly in the Hijaz, confined legal knowledge
solely to the sacred texts, and the rationalising jurists (ahl al-ra’y) based
in Iraq. The latter viewed religious knowledge as a body of legal rulings
that, although ultimately derived from the sacred texts, only emerged with
the intervention of individual reasoning (ijtihād al-ra’y). During most of
Islam’s second century, the ahl al-ra’y dominated legal thought; by the close
of that century, however, the ahl al-ḥadīth were emerging as a powerful
countervailing force, leading to the rationalists’ decline.
After the lifetime of al-Shāfi‘ī, the traditionalist orientation continued
to gain significant strength, attracting many prominent jurists, including
Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal (d.241/855) and Dāwūd al-Zāhirī (d.270/883). Yet
by the end of the third/ninth century, a purely traditionalist approach was
also falling out of favour. Instead, the majority of jurists began to combine
traditionalism with rationalism, acknowledging that, while human reason
could not stand on its own as a central method of interpretation for
legal practice (i.e. that reason was essentially in the service of revelation),
transmitted religious knowledge nonetheless benefited from critical
rational methods. This bridging of the contrasting approaches fertilised
the classic elaboration of Islamic legal theory (or usūl
. al-fiqh).
This successful, and eventually triumphant, integration of revelation
and reason was spearheaded by the creative work of al-Shāfi‘ī. After
completing his training in Iraq, al-Shāfi‘ī validated rational procedures for
deducing legal rulings while confining personal reason (qiyās) to inferences
based on the Qur’an and Sunna. It was this midpoint between the two
trends that eventually came to constitute the normative position for the
majority. From this centrist position, the religious ideology and legal
practice of the Muslim majority emerged.1
All-in-all, Imam Shāfi‘ī based his Islamic legal theory on four basic
principles: the Qur’an, the Prophetic traditions (Sunna), the consensus
of Muslim juristic opinion (ijmā’), and inferential reasoning (qiyās).
Concerning the applicability of ijmā’, he confined this to obligatory duties
(i.e. the five pillars of Islam and other matters upon which the Qur’an and
the Sunna are decisive, or qath’i). He did this on the basis that achieving
a consensus of juristic opinion on more controversial issues (i.e. on which
there is not such clear guidance) is impossible. He also argued that analogy
can only be a logical extension of the Qur’an and Sunna; in no way can it
conflict with them.
It is also worth noting that, and except in certain matters of belief,
al-Shāfi‘ī gave equal authority to both the Qur’an and Sunna, arguing
that Sunna served as an explanatory guide to the Qur’an. The Sunna, he
argued, was transmitted to detail and operationalise the general message
of the Qur’an. Rejecting the Sunna therefore meant rejecting the Qur’an
itself. Via this argument, he refuted those who recognised the Qur’an
as the only valid and legitimate source of Sharia, to the exclusion of the
Sunna. He similarly rejected the argument of those who only accepted
hadiths narrated by many people (mutawātir) while rejecting solitary
hadiths (ahād), arguing that the Prophet did not necessarily call the entire
Madinan community to witness his message. He also annulled Imam
Mālik’s requirements that hadith not contravene the practice of the people
of Madinah and that the opinions and practices of both the latter and the
Companions be given preference over the Sunna. Instead, al-Shāfi’ī argued
that a hadith – even a solitary one – must take priority over the practice
of any given community, including the Companions and Successors. Al-
Shāfi‘ī also emphasised that ijtihād should make reference to the Qur’an
and Sunna; it cannot be based solely on inferential reasoning. Thus, al-
Shāfi’ī contested Ḥanafī’s extensive reliance on personal opinion and
analogy (ra’y and qiyās), as well as the frequent concessions he made to
general principle (istihsān). In this context, he also disapproved of Imam
Mālik’s validation of unrestricted maṣlaha . and sadd al-dzarī’a.
In light of al-Shāfi‘ī’s strong defense of and support for the Sunna, it
is easy to appreciate why he has been called the Champion of the Sunna
(nāṣir al-sunna). The legal doctrine of al-Shāfi‘ī is indeed the doctrine of
ahl al-ḥadīth. This is further reflected in his prominent statement: “If a
hadith is authentic, it is my doctrine.” On another occasion, he said: “If

you see my words are in conflict with the hadith, apply the hadith and
disregard my words.”
Mature Work
In 186/802, al-Shāfi‘ī returned to Makkah, where he taught in the sacred
Masjid al-Ḥaram for nine years, elaborating on his new traditionalist-
rationalist mode of legal doctrine. He now defined ‘religious knowledge’ as:
the Sacred Texts of God’s revealed Book and the Prophet’s Sunnah,
and what is sought of their meaning through consensus [ijmā‘] and
reasoned inference [qiyās].2
His recognition that critical rational methods formed a necessary tool
for understanding Sunna encouraged the development of a sophisticated
Islamic legal methodology. This began to come to fruition when al-Shāfi‘ī
made his second stay in Baghdad, beginning in 195/810. Lasting two years,
during this stay al-Shāfi‘ī taught both rational jurists and traditionalists
and wrote his famous al-Risāla in response to a request from the prominent
Basran traditionalist, ‘Abd al-Raḥmān b. Mahdī (d.198/813). This set out
the basis for a new mode of legal practice. It was subsequently superseded,
however, by his Cairene work (hence it is often termed his ‘old [al-qadīm]
teachings’).
As such, in 199/814 al-Shāfi‘ī moved to Fustat (in old Cairo), where
he spent the last five years of his life producing several major new works.
During this period, he revised his legal opinions and propounded fresh
positions on critical topics, all of which came to be known as his ‘new
teachings’ (qaul jadīd). Notable amongst his works during this period
were his Kitāb al-umm and Ikhtilāf al-ḥadīth, both of which continue
to be studied by Shāfi‘ī jurists today. As before, these texts encouraged
the re-grounding of positive legal doctrine in a legal methodology that
embraced both the corpus of hadith and individual reasoning. This meant
that traditionalists had to meet rationalism halfway by accommodating
its creative rational approach to meet human needs. This grew into the
balanced integration of traditionalism and rationalism, resulting in thinkers
who were simultaneously traditionalist jurists and rationalist theologians,
competent in conceptualising legal theory in terms of tradition and
rationality – a veritable harmony of revelation and reason.
Muslim thinkers – and, indeed, all thinking Muslims – can learn a
valuable lesson from al-Shāfi‘ī’s life and work. The midpoint between
extremes (wasaṭiyya) is Islam’s ideal position for fostering harmony and

balanced integration. Revealed truth and scientific advance should be
harmonised into a higher synthesis – just as the ‘ahl al-Hijaz’ and ‘ahl
al-Iraq’ had to harmonise their conceptions of knowledge. This ideal
may guide us in the challenging task of preserving the precious legacy of
tradition while constructing more adequate responses to our present and
future needs.
Notes
1. On the controversy between traditionalists and rationalists, see Wael Hallaq,
Origins and Evolution of Islamic Law (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2005), 52–4, 74–6, 113–9, 122–8, 140–6.
2. Cited in Ibn ‘Abd al-Barr, Jāmi‘ bayān al-‘ilm wa fadlih,
. vol. 2 (Bayrūt: Dār al-
Nafāʼis lil-Ṭibāʻah wa-al-Nashr wa-al-Tawzīʻ, 2006), 26. See also Abū Aḥmad
‘Abd Allāh ibn al-Qattān,
.. al-Kāmil fī ḍu‘afā’ al-Rijāl, 2nd ed., vol. 1 (Bayrūt:
Dār al-Fikr, 1985), 125, where al-Shāfi‘ī is cited: “The basis [for legal rulings]
is the Qur’an and Sunnah, and if these do not provide [explicit rulings] then
it is ‘reasoned-inference’ [qiyās] upon these two…” Further to this, on qiyās
and ijtihād consult al-Shāfi‘ī, al-Risālah (Treatise on the Foundations of Islamic
Jurisprudence), 2nd ed., trans. Majid Khadduri (London: The Islamic Texts
Society, 1961), 288–303.
Further Reading
Abū Zahrah, Muḥammad. Al-Shāfiʿī: Ḥayātuhu wa ‘aṣruhu, ārāuhu wa fiqhuhu.
Bayrūt: Dār al-Fikr, 1978.
Al-Rāzī, Faḥr al-Dīn. Manāqib al-Imām al-Shāfiʿī. Cairo: Maktaba al-Kulliyāt al-
Azhariyya, 1986.
Al-Shāfiʿī. Al-Risālah (Treatise on the Foundations of Islamic Jurisprudence), 2nd

edition. Translated by Majid Khadduri. London: The Islamic Texts Society,
1961.
________. Al-Umm. Bayrūt: Dār al-Fikr, 1990.
Hallaq, Wael. Origins and Evolution of Islamic Law. Cambridge: Cambridge

University Press, 2005.
Ibn ‘Abd al-Barr. Jāmiʿ bayān al-ʿilm wa faḍlih, 2 vols. Bayrūt: Dār al-Nafāʼis lil-
Ṭibāʻah wa-al-Nashr wa-al-Tawzīʻ, 2006.
Ibn al-Qattān,
.. Abū Ahmad. ‘Abd Allāh. Al-Kāmil fī ḍuʿafā’ al-Rijāl, 2nd edition, 2
vols. Bayrūt: Dār al-Fikr, 1985.
Kamali, Mohammad Hashim. Shari’ah Law: An Introduction. Oxford: Oneworld

Publication, 2008.
8
Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal
(164-241AH/780-855CE)
Karim D. Crow and Mohd Fariz Zainal Abdullah
For centuries, Ḥanbalī jurisprudence – or the fiqh attributed to Aḥmad ibn

Ḥanbal – has constituted the fourth school of Sunni jurisprudence. Yet
during his lifetime, Ibn Ḥanbal was recognised as a foremost traditionalist
rather than a faqīh. The traditionalists (or asḥāb al-ḥadīth) were ultimately
responsible for collecting and purifying the hadith of the Prophet. They
compiled the vast amounts of narrated reports transmitted over generations
on the authority of the ‘Successors’ of the Companions – reports that
would form the basis of the Prophetic Sunna, the religious law, and the
basic creedal doctrines on the fundamentals of faith (usūl . al-dīn). Ibn
Ḥanbal stood at the forefront of this process, as one of the most significant
of the traditionalists.
Life and Work

Abū ‘Abd Allāh Aḥmad ibn Muḥammad ibn Ḥanbal al-Marwazī al-
Shaybānī was born in Baghdad in 164AH/780CE. He is commonly
known simply as ‘Ibn Ḥanbal’, after his illustrious grandfather, Ḥanbal, a
supporter of the ‘Abbāsid revolution and governor of Sarakhs (Northwest
Iran). Originally his family came from Marw in Northwest Iran and were
of the Arab Shaybān tribe.
Fluent in both Arabic and Persian, Ibn Ḥanbal received a traditional
Islamic education in the mosque study circles of Baghdad, being strongly
encouraged in this direction by his mother. During Ibn Ḥanbal’s lifetime,
the substance of classical Islamic civilisation was still taking shape; Baghdad
was the centre of, not just Islam’s political and commercial circles, but
also of its intense religious and intellectual developments, all of which
AḤMAD IBN ḤANBAL 59
were receptive to Greek, Persian and Indian thought. Ibn Ḥanbal’s early
studies, however, concentrated on just two major religious disciplines:
jurisprudence (fiqh) and the Prophetic Traditions (ahādīth).
. In the realm
of fiqh, he began his studies under the leading qāḍī (judge), Abū Yūsuf
(a disciple of Abū Ḥanīfa, d.182/798), who taught him rationalist legal
techniques (ra’y and qiyās) and the application of istihsān
. (legal preference)1
when deriving legal rulings. In the context of hadith studies, Ibn Ḥanbal
studied under the traditionalist scholar, Hushaym ibn Bashīr (d.183/799).
It was to this field that Ibn Ḥanbal would become increasingly committed:
from 179/795 onwards, Ibn Ḥanbal spent twenty-five years travelling
extensively throughout Iraq, Khurasan, Syria, the Hijaz, and Yemen,
looking for Prophetic traditions to record. In each place, he studied
under leading traditionalist scholars, copying down whatever hadiths
they dictated. In Kufa, for example, he worked closely with al-Wakī‘ b.
al-Jarrāḥ (d.196/811). In Basra, he encountered the leading critic, Yaḥyā
b. Sa‘īd al-Qaṭṭān (d.198/813), and in Makkah he worked with the
great traditionalist, Sufyān b. ‘Uyayna (d.198/814). His ten months in
Yemen, on the other hand, were spent with ‘Abd al-Razzāq b. Hammām
(d.211/827). Throughout his twenty-five years of travelling, however, Ibn
Ḥanbal’s closest companion was Yaḥyā ibn Ma‘īn (d.233/847), famed for
his expertise in the transmission-chains (rijāl) of hadith reports.
In 205/820, Ibn Ḥanbal abandoned travelling and returned to
Baghdad, where he began to teach. Very quickly, he gained a reputation as
the most celebrated traditionalist of his time, his circle of pupils growing
rapidly. Certainly, he had a phenomenal memory and was never seen
without a reed pen between his ink-stained fingers, busy copying and
correcting hadith. Normally, the collection of hadith would be a two-fold
process, comprising samā‘ (auditing) and ‘arḍ (reading back, for textual
confirmation). In other words, a teacher would dictate narrations he had
audited from earlier authorities and his pupils would record them in
their personal notebooks (kutub al-uṣūl), only to then read them back to
their teacher to check for accuracy and prevent errors. By Ibn Ḥanbal’s
time, however, collectors of hadith had begun copying narrations from
the notebooks of their colleagues, without the preferred samā‘, and only
then checking them with their teachers. Indeed, this process was rapidly
becoming normal practice during the second/ninth century, particularly
amongst Madinan scholars like al-Zuhrī (d.124/741-2), Ja‘far al-Ṣādiq
(d.148/765), and Mālik b. Anas (d.179/795). However, the Iraqi
traditionalists represented by Ibn Ḥanbal insisted on the necessity of
oral–aural (mouth-to-ear) transmission, rather than reliance on book
transmission. As much as possible, therefore, Ibn Ḥanbal sought to retain

the two-fold process of hadith transmission.
Ibn Ḥanbal also exemplified those traditionalist scholars who sought to
minimise the use of rational legal procedures (like ra’y and qiyās). Instead,
he favoured basing legal opinions, juridical rulings, and creedal doctrine
directly on received hadith. In order to be able to perform this function,
however, Ibn Ḥanbal believed that a competent scholar should have at
his command – whether recorded in notebooks or (preferably) alive in
his memory – at least five hundred thousand hadith. Ibn Ḥanbal’s pupil,
the reputable traditionalist, Abū Zur‘a al-Rāzī (d.264/878), estimated that
Ibn Ḥanbal himself had memorised one million hadith – both isnād and
matn. In this regard, Abū Zur‘a recorded that, when Ibn Ḥanbal’s original
hadith notebooks and other manuscripts were catalogued after his death in
241/855, their total volume came to twelve and one-half camel loads (or
twenty-five bales/wasaq).2
Ibn Ḥanbal’s greatest achievement in the field of hadith was the
compilation of his famous Musnad. Consisting of about 30,000 hadith
arranged under the names of the Companions who transmitted them, this
text was drawn from approximately 750,000 hadith personally recorded
by Ibn Ḥanbal during his twenty-five years of travel. As such, for his
Musnad, Ibn Ḥanbal selected only about four per cent of the total material
at his disposal. Notably, the order in which he lists the Companions in
his Musnad – beginning with the first Four Rightly Guided Caliphs,
followed by the shūra council, then the ‘ten promised paradise’, and finally
the Family of the Prophet – begins to suggest the emergence of Sunni
orthodoxy. As with several other of his writings, his second son, ‘Abd Allāh
(d.290/903), assisted with the compilation of the Musnad, even adding
some of his own material (ziyādāt).
The Inquisition
During Ibn Ḥanbal’s lifetime, the ‘Abbāsid caliph, al-Ma’mūn (r.198–
218/814–833), entertained ambitions of uniting the Islamic world around
his person, as the final authority in doctrinal matters. Encouraged by the
rationalist thinkers in his entourage, the caliph enforced his new doctrinal
conformity through an Inquisition (or Miḥna). In large part, this was
aimed at stamping out traditionalist dogmas – in particular, the idea that
the Qur’an was uncreated, as the pre-existing Word of God (or His Speech,
kalām Allāh). In 218/833, or during his last year as caliph, al-Ma’mūn
arrested a number of prominent traditionalists and forced them to publicly
recant this view by affirming the Qur’an to be created-in-time and not

part of the Divine Essence. Unlike many other traditionalists (including
Yaḥyā ibn Ma‘īn and Ibn Sa‘d), Ibn Ḥanbal refused; quickly singled out,
he spent the next twenty-eight months in prison. He did not, however,
renounce his beliefs, despite repeated interrogations and even a severe
flogging conducted in Ramaḍān 219/September 834 in the presence of
al-Ma’mūn’s successor, al-Mu‘taṣim (r.218–227/833–842). Afterwards, as
he lay nursing his wounds, his old travelling companion, Ibn Ma‘īn, paid
him a visit; Ibn Ḥanbal, however, turned his face to the wall, refusing to
speak to someone who had compromised his faith.
Ibn Ḥanbal’s persistence and willingness to suffer persecution for the
sake of his beliefs caught the imagination of the masses, who magnified
him into a hero. This gave a powerful boost to the traditionalist cause,
contributing to its eventual success. Certainly, caliph al-Mu‘taṣim finally
released Ibn Ḥanbal, although he remained under house arrest and unable
to teach. This last limitation remained in force until the reign of the
subsequent caliph, al-Wāthiq (r.227–232/842–847). The prestige attached
to Ibn Ḥanbal’s person, however, helped facilitate the emergence of a
body of legal precedents based on his work, ultimately culminating in the
formation of the Ḥanbalī madhhab. Although this School only emerged
with the generations after Ibn Ḥanbal, it systematised a body of teachings
in his name.
The Triumph of Traditionalism

In the course of the second/eighth century, a keen tension arose between
jurists who focused on the hadith (known as the ahl al-ḥadīth), and thereby
confined legal knowledge to the sacred texts, and rationalist jurists (ahl
al-ra’y) who, based mainly in Iraq, appealed primarily to a body of legal
rulings attained by individual reasoning (ijtihād al-ra’y), and sometimes
without explicit reference to the sacred texts.3 Initially, the ahl al-ra’y
were undoubtedly in the ascent, dominating all legal reasoning. By the
last quarter of the century, however, the ahl al-ḥadīth were experiencing
a strong upsurge, exerting powerful pressure upon the rationalists and
leading to their partial decline. During the subsequent third/ninth
century, conversions from the rationalist to the traditionalist camp became
frequent, with the traditionalist movement eventually taking a sharp turn
towards total opposition to rationalism, including its use of qiyās. By the
middle of the century, partisans of hadith had seemingly triumphed over
ra’y, with most jurists favouring the traditionalist methodology.
The triumph of the traditionalists was ultimately due to the withdrawal

of political support from the increasingly unpopular rationalist position.
Caliph al-Ma’mūn’s Inquisition, largely directed against the traditionalists,
ended in 218/814, with its victims quickly becoming heroes – and with
Ibn Ḥanbal at their forefront. From this point on, independent human
reason was perceived as incapable of forming the central method of
legal interpretation, a position instead given to revelation. Caliphs and
governors began increasingly to turn toward this popular religious idea,
both for legitimation and support. For their part, the Ḥanbalīs quickly
emerged as adept at exercising people-power on the streets of Baghdad,
with unruly crowds of their supporters asserting their doctrinal preferences
and intimidating their opponents. Characterised by an austere piety
and unshakeable conviction in the sacred importance of their task, the
traditionalists associated themselves with a famous utterance of the
Prophet:
A band from my community shall not cease to establish the truth,
while those who forsake and oppose them harm them not, until
God’s affair is accomplished and they achieve mastery over the
people.4
With this development, the primacy of the hadith over and above any
linguistic, rational or symbolic attempts to explicate meaning was asserted.
The transmitted narratives were to be accepted, word for word, just as they
had been passed down and without inquiring into how or why. Certain
anthropomorphic and spatial expressions used in the Qur’an to describe
God were to be handled by leaving knowledge of their real meaning to
God – a position known as tafwīḍ (entrusting). Regarding the contested
doctrines of divine pre-ordainment (qadar), of God being an eyewitness,
and of the Qur’an being uncreated, Ibn Ḥanbal explicitly affirmed that
one must:
give assent to narrated-traditions regarding [these doctrines] and
believe them – Why? is not to be said, nor How? – rather it is a
matter of assenting and believing in these traditions. Whomever did
not know the explanation of the specific ḥadīth, and his intelligence
informs him [of the meaning], then that suffices and is proper
for him; so belief in it and consent is incumbent upon him…
[But] he is not to reject a single letter of these traditions nor other
narrations transmitted through reliable authorities. Nor should [he]
dispute or debate with anyone over their meaning, nor teach others
disputation…so that he abandons disputation and gives consent and
believes in the transmitted reports…For we deem [that a] ḥadīth

must be accepted in its literal-external form [‘alā ẓāhirihi], just as it
has come down to us from the Prophet, and theological debate over
it is a reprehensible innovation. Indeed, we believe in it literally and
do not dispute rationally over its import with anyone!5
Ibn Ḥanbal discouraged his traditionalist associates from studying
the writings of prominent rationalist juristic authorities, including
the important Kufan, Sufyān al-Thawrī (d.161/778), and the great
Madinan jurist, Mālik b. Anas. The jurist Muḥammad b. Idrīs al-Shāfi‘ī
(d.204/820), the Iraqi philologist-traditionalist, Abū ‘Ubayd al-Qāsim b.
Sallām (d.224/838), and the Iraqi jurist, Abū Thawr Ibrāhīm b. Khālid
(d.240/854), were likewise condemned as kutub al-ra’y and, therefore,
as improperly rationalist. When reminded that the staunch Sunni
traditionalist, ‘Abd Allāh b. al-Mubārak (d.181/797), had himself studied
such ra’y writings, Ibn Ḥanbal reportedly scoffed: “Ibn al-Mubārak didn’t
descend from heaven! We are bidden [only] to take knowledge from
above [min fawq, i.e. through the Prophet of God]6.” However, some have
affirmed that Ibn Ḥanbal did permit the copying of both al-Thawrī’s early
hadith compilation, al-Jāmi‘, and Mālik’s al-Muwaṭṭa’.
The assiduous collector of Ibn Ḥanbal’s own legal responses, Abū Bakr
al-Khallāl (d.311/923), stated that in his early days Ibn Ḥanbal did study
the writings of rationalist jurists, even making copies of their texts. He
later disregarded these, however, in favour of the hadith themselves.7 It
would be a mistake, however, to think that Ibn Ḥanbal entirely rejected
the tools of legal rationalism, and as the traditionalist, Dāwūd al-Zāhirī
.
(d.270/883), founder of the Ẓāhirī School, would do one generation later.
Yet Ibn Ḥanbal only accepted qiyās when absolutely necessary, placing
far more restriction on its use than al-Shāfi‘ī (for example) ever did. Ibn
Ḥanbal generally preferred to accept unsound or ‘weak’ (ḍa‘īf) traditions as
the basis for legal rulings, rather than have recourse to analogic reasoning
lacking in any reference to the sacred texts.
Hadith Religion
The champions of hadith insisted upon the primacy of their narrated
traditions, placing them at the centre of all religious and devotional
activities. These sacred texts, the Kitāb wa l-Sunna, were seen as an
unrivalled wellspring of truth, serving as the criterion for examining
the results of human reason. After the obligatory ritual requirements of
faith – such as prayer, fasting and pilgrimage – the greatest devotional

act was deemed to be the study and teaching of those hadith which had
been narrated through well-connected chains of transmitters (musnad)
and from reliable authorities (thiqāt). This is because the idea of ‘Sunna’
requires holding fast to what the Companions of the Prophet and the
early pious authorities (or salaf) practiced. This is achieved by following
the guidance of these individuals as found in the hadith, and by rejecting
all reprehensible innovations and polemical disputations over divisive
doctrinal matters. The hadith therefore form the juridical substance of
the Sharia, helping to regulate all aspects of individual and communal
life. In this context, the very act of writing down hadith was preferred to
supererogatory prayers or fasts.
This type of scriptural hadith-based thinking ultimately proved
important for the elaboration of normative Sunni doctrine. Traditionalists
generally avoided speculative reasoning and did not rationally compare
Qur’anic verses or hadith narratives in order to draw juridical and doctrinal
conclusions. They taught that, when the Qur’an, Sunna and scholarly
consensus (ijmā’) unite, the result is a certain and true perception, which
no interpretation can oppose.8
Sunni traditionalism also idealised the foundational basis of the Islamic
polity, centred on the Prophet Muḥammad and the heroic figures of his
Companions. Above all, the traditionalists dwelt upon the early politico-
religious disputes concerning the succession to the Prophet – although
bitter polemics about who amongst the first four caliphs possessed
surpassing merit, or who may have committed errors, was to be absolutely
avoided. This was because these issues opened the door to the reprehensible
innovations of the theologians and rationalists, as well as the subversive
doctrines espoused by the Shi‘a and Sufi esotericists. In his letter to the
Basran traditionalist, Musaddad b. Musarhad al-Asadī (d.228/843), Ibn
Ḥanbal warned him: “beware disputation with those holding errant
doctrines, and refrain from discussing the shortcomings of the Companions
of the Prophet. Rather, narrate their surpassing merits (fadā’il) and
. abstain
from discussing what broke out between them (al-imsāk ‘an mā shajara
baynahum)9.” He therefore insisted upon uniform conformity to the
Jamā‘a (Majority Assembly), as opposed to splintering into disputing
sects. Disputation (jadal) and divisive intellectual speculations were to
be rejected – especially the controversial doctrines taught by rationalist
theologians (ahl al-kalām).
Traditionalists attributed some amongst themselves with the saintly
abdāl, a mysterious caste of ‘inner humanity’ believed to exercise spiritual
control over this world. For this reason, Ibn Ḥanbal had a soft spot for
pious renunciants (zuhhād) and self-mortifiers, even compiling a valuable
collection of their utterances, his Kitāb al-Zuhd (Book on Asceticism). Yet
he opposed those proto-Sufi devotees who taught qadarī doctrine on the
efficacy of human deeds and transmitted narratives about the religious
value of human intelligence (al-‘aql). Many of these were associated with
the colony of Basran renunciants at ‘Abbādān island, off the coast of the
Shaṭṭ al-‘Arab, who had thrown away their hadith notebooks as a mark of
their dedication to a higher mode of ‘experiential knowledge’ (ma‘rifa).
This was the earliest Sufi convent and was led by ‘Abd al-Wāḥid b. Zayd
(d.150/767), a disciple of al-Ḥasan al-Basrī . (d.109/728). It included as a
resident the devotee Dāwūd b. al-Muḥabbar (d.206/822), who compiled
the notorious Kitāb al-‘Aql (Book on Intelligence), and whom Ibn Ḥanbal
condemned as a liar.
Ibn Ḥanbal also strongly discouraged his followers from attending
the circle of the prominent Baghdadi scholar, al-Ḥārith al-Muḥāsibī
(d.243/857), a Sunni theologian and Sufi theoretician whose seminal work,
The Essential Nature of Intelligence, influenced later Ash‘arite thinkers like
al-Juwaynī (d.478/1085) and al-Ghazālī (d.505/1111). Nevertheless, it is
reported that Ibn Ḥanbal once requested that one of al-Muḥāsibī’s pupils
hide him somewhere in the vicinity of al-Muḥāsibī’s private nightly class.
There he listened to the shaykh guide the inner workings of his disciples,
becoming so deeply affected that he wept.10 Nevertheless, this Sufi master
lived the final years of his life closeted in his home, fearing mistreatment
at the hands of those radical traditionalists who followed Ibn Ḥanbal.
Upon al-Muḥāsibī’s death, only four of his associates dared to attend his
funeral; others were absent out of fear of public harassment at the hands of
intolerant traditionalists.
The Ḥanbalī School

Ibn Ḥanbal’s conceptual indebtedness to al-Shāfi‘ī is clear from his attitude
towards fiqh. This attitude, which would later be responsible for the
emergence of a new legal approach among the traditionalists, emphasised
adherence to transmitted āthār and Sunna, while marginalising the use of
qiyās and ra’y. Ibn Ḥanbal thereby developed the approach of ‘following
authority’ (ittibā’) for legal questions and rulings, privileging transmitted
proofs over rational proofs.
At the start of the fourth/tenth century, Abū Bakr al-Khallāl systematised
Ibn Ḥanbal’s teachings as they had been preserved in various Masā’il
Aḥmad writings (responsa by Ibn Ḥanbal to different pupils). Eventually,

al-Khallāl reshaped these into a coherent legal doctrine, which he then
put down in his own text, al-Jāmi‘ li-‘ulūm Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal.11 At the
same time, other jurists, such as Abū al-Qāsim al-Khiraqī (d.299/912),
advanced the development of Ḥanbalī fiqh through classification and
independent juridical works. By the late fourth/tenth century, Muslim
juridical literature began to recognise the Ḥanbalī School as a distinct
legal presence. The growing integration of Ḥanbalīs into mainstream
intellectual currents induced a pronounced trend towards moderation
and more sophisticated intellectual approaches, leading to the disavowal
of anthropomophoric literalism and narrow-minded dogmatism. This
was especially evident in the careers of ‘Alī ibn ‘Aqīl (d.513/1119), the
influential Ḥanbalī preacher ‘Abd al-Raḥmān ibn al-Jawzī (d.597/1201),
and Najm al-Dīn al-Ṭūfī (d.716/1316). Even in aspects of the thought of
Ibn Taymiyyah (d.728/1328) we see Ibn Ḥanbal’s influence. However, the
die-hard Ḥanbalī wing labelled ḥashwiyya maintained an uncompromising
doctrinal literalism and strong hostility towards rationalism.
Ḥanbalī jurisprudence initially dominated in Baghdad, the Caspian
Sea area, and Arabia. By the sixth/twelfth century, however, it had been
eclipsed in the central Islamic lands, maintaining a significant presence
only in Arabia and Syria. Indeed, the Ḥanbalīs remained the smallest
Sunni legal school, both numerically and geographically, until the
eighteenth-century ascendency of the Wahhābī movement, which spread
from Central Arabia in symbiosis with the ruling family of Sa‘ūd. Ḥanbalī
purist convictions were subsequently upheld by the Kingdom of Saudi
Arabia, allowing them to gain a foothold across the Islamic world from
the late twentieth century onwards. Today, Ḥanbalī doctrinal preferences
are affecting wide sectors of the Muslim world, where they act as a Sunni
bulwark against Westernisation, but while also driving sectarian conflict
and jihadist ideology.
Notes
1. In juristic terminology, istiḥsān refers to a ruling which goes against a relevant
inferential analogy, normally on the preponderance of counter-evidence
from the revealed sources. It therefore forms a component of ijtihād, see
Mohammad Hashim Kamali, Principles of Islamic Jurisprudence (Petaling
Jaya: Pelanduk Publications, 1989), 245–66. Ibn Ḥanbal is reported to have
applied istiḥsān in certain cases (e.g. ownership of the produce of usurped
land) and in favour of the indicant from the hadith, which contradicted the
seemingly correct qiyās.
2. ‘Abd al-Raḥmān Ibn al-Jawzī, Manāqib al-Imām Aḥmad Ibn Ḥanbal, 3rd ed.
(Beirut: Dār al-Afāq al-Jadīdah, 1982), 59–60.
3. On this controversy, see the balanced appraisal by Wael Hallaq, The Origins
and Evolution of Islamic Law (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004),
52–4, 74–6, 113–9, 122–8, 140–6. Also, Kamali, Islamic Jurisprudence,
provides details on juristic reasoning techniques.
4. Preserved in the collections of al-Bukhārī, Muslim, and Ibn Mājah, in
addition to Ibn Ḥanbal’s own Musnad. This utterance was often taken to
refer to the Abdāl (Saintly ‘Substitutes’), so named because, whenever one
of them expires, another takes his place to fulfil his mission. These itinerant
hermits sought out uninhabited areas to pursue intense devotions and
practice self-mortification. Certainly, Ibn Ḥanbal favoured them, see Ibn al-
Jawzī, Manāqib al-Imām, 147, 180–1, 196.
5. Ibn al-Jawzī, Manāqib al-Imām, 172. A leading theologian, al-Ash‘arī, stated
that ahl al-ḥadīth wa l-sunna “disapprove of disputation and ostentatious
display in contention regarding doctrine or arguing over qadar…and in
defending their doctrines they contend by assenting to sound transmissions…
nor do they say ‘how’? or ‘why’?, for that is a reprehensible innovation”
(Maqālāt, 294).
6. Ibn al-Jawzī, Manāqib al-Imām, 192–3. Also, consult Christoph Melchert,
‘The Adversaries of Aḥmad Ibn Ḥanbal,’ Arabica 44 (1997): 234–53.
7. Ibn al-Jawzī, Manāqib al-Imām, 63–4. Khallāl’s statement might have
been intended to defend his master from the charge of having been a mere
muḥaddith (traditionalist), rather than a true faqīh (jurist), and as certain
scholars, including Ibn Jarīr al-Ṭabarī, asserted.
8. Thus, on whether humans will physically see God in the Hereafter, the
reputable Central Asian traditionalist, al-Dārimī (d.255/869), asserted
that: “If the Qur’ān, the Messenger’s utterance and the consensus of the
community conjoin – there is no other interpretation!”
9. Cited by Ibn al-Jawzī, Manāqib al-Imām, 166-71. Musaddad was among the
first to compile a musnad, see Ibn Ḥajar al-‘Asqalānī, Tahdhīb al-Tahdhīb, vol.
10 (Ḥaydarābād Dāʼīraẗ al-Maʻārif al-Nizāmiyyaẗ, 1968), 202.
10. Ibn al-Jawzī, Manāqib al-Imām, 186-7.
11. See Christopher Melchert, Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal (Oxford: Oneworld, 2006).
Further Reading
‘Abd al-Rahmān
. ibn al-Jawzī. Manāqib al-Imām Aḥmad Ibn Ḥanbal, 3rd ed. Beirut:
Dār al-Afāq al-Jadīdah, 1982.
Hallaq, Wael. The Origins and Evolution of Islamic Law. Cambridge: Cambridge
Hurvitz, Nimrod. The Formation of Ḥanbalism: Piety into Power. London:

Routledge Curzon, 2002.
Ibn Ḥajar al-‘Asqalānī. Tahdhīb al-Tahdhīb, in 12 vols. Ḥaydarābād Dāʼīraẗ al-

Maʻārif al-Nizāmiyyaẗ, 1968.
Ibn Ḥanbal. Musnad, edited by Aḥmad Muḥammad Shākir, in 15 vols. Beirut:

Shu‘ayb al-Arna’ūt, 1993.
Kamili, Mohammad Hashim. Principles of Islamic Jurisprudence. Petaling Jaya:

Pelanduk Publications, 1989.
Melchert, Christopher. Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal. Oxford: Oneworld, 2006.
__________________. ‘The Adversaries of Aḥmad Ibn Ḥanbal.’ Arabica 44

(1997): 234–53.
9
Muḥammad Ibn Ismāʿīl al-Bukhārī
(194-256AH/808-870CE)
Karim D. Crow and Wan Naim Wan Mansor
Muḥammad ibn Ismāʿīl al-Bukhārī (194-256AH/808-870CE) is famed

for consolidating the foundational Islamic discipline of Prophetic hadith
(traditions). In particular, he attempted to purify the Prophetic Sunna via
the creation of his Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī, commonly recognised as Islam’s most
authoritative compilation of sound hadith. This collection has served as
an indispensable source of hadith-based jurisprudence for the last one
thousand years. Imam al-Bukhārī’s critical work recording authenticated,
well-transmitted traditions is seen as the most influential of several
compilations by his contemporary traditionalists (known collectively as
the al-ṣiḥāḥ al-sitta, or ‘Six Sound Collections’). The critical labours of
these ‘Guardians of Tradition’ (aṣḥāb al-ḥadīth) remind Muslims today to
properly evaluate and treasure the Sunna of God’s Messenger, Muḥammad.
Born in the Central Asian city of Bukhara (now in Uzbekistan),
Muḥammad b. Ismāʿīl b. Ibrāhīm al-Juʿfī al-Bukhārī spent his early years
studying hadith in Khurasan. His father had also been a scholar and had
studied under leading faqīh-traditionalists in both Iraq and the Hijaz,
including Mālik b. Anas (d.179/795), Ḥammād b. Zayd (d.179/795), and
ʿAbd Allāh b. al-Mubārak (d.181/797). Al-Bukhārī himself first visited the
Hijaz with his mother in 210/825, at the age of sixteen. In the sanctuary at
Makkah, he reputedly had a dream in which he fanned the Prophet, both
to cool him and keep away the flies; al-Bukhārī understood this as a signal
to work on purifying the Prophetic hadith. He therefore began travelling
widely throughout Iraq, searching for knowledge and studying under
such eminent hadith experts as ʿAlī b. al-Madīnī (d.234/849) and Isḥāq
b. Rāhawayh (d.238/853). He first arranged the format of his Ṣaḥīḥ in
Makkah in ca.217/832 and, working on it over the next sixteen years (i.e.
until ca.233/847), finally completed it at the Prophet’s tomb in Madinah.

He entitled it: al-Jāmiʿ al-ṣaḥīḥ al-musnad min ḥadīth Rasūlillāhi wa
sunanihi wa ayyāmihi (The Sound Comprehensive Collection of Well-
Connected Narratives from God’s Messenger and of his Sunan1 and his
Historical Events). In this title, al-Bukhārī used the term al-ṣaḥīḥ al-
musnad to indicate those traditions which had been properly transmitted
through a continuous ‘chain of transmission’ (or isnād) by reliable and
trustworthy traditionalists (thiqāt) who upheld sound Sunni doctrine.
His pupil, Muhammad
. ibn Yūsuf al-Firabrī (d.320/932), described
how al-Bukhārī would perform ghusl (an ablution of ritual purity) and
pray two rakʿa before recording each hadith in his book. The hadiths al-
Bukhārī selected for inclusion in his al-Jāmiʿ al-ṣaḥīḥ were sifted from
a mass of over 600,000 narratives, transmitted (with varying degrees
of accuracy and reliability) from the first generations of Muslims (the
Prophet’s Companions) to their successors, before passing to the latter’s
pupils and then al-Bukhārī’s own teachers. In total, 7,397 hadith made
it into al-Bukhārī’s Ṣaḥīḥ. Considering the 1,341 ‘annotations’ (taʿālīq)
in his original texts, however, and the 344 confirmatory supporting
narrations (mutābiʿāt) transmitted through variant riwāyāt, he actually
preserved 9,082 Prophetic hadith. Additionally, in his tafsīr (Qur’anic
exegesis), al-Bukhārī cites some additional utterances (aqwāl) from both
the Companions and Successors on the legal implications of certain
Qur’anic verses, adding still further to this number.
Al-Bukhārī’s emphasis on selecting primarily ṣaḥīḥ reports marked a
fresh stage in both the literary recording of hadith and in the perfecting of
the isnād-based methodology that would become central to the knowledge
cultivated by both traditionalists and jurists. Prior to al-Bukhārī, the mid-
second/eighth century had seen a literary tradition develop called jāmi’.
This comprised all-inclusive collections of hadith, such as those compiled
by the Kufan Sufyān al-Thawrī (d.161/777) and the Egyptian ʿAbd Allāh
b. Wahb (d.196/812). These texts did not differentiate between reliable and
unreliable hadith. By the turn of the century, they were replaced by a series
of encyclopaedic works entitled muṣannaf and written by traditionalists
like the Yamani ʿAbd al-Razzāq al-Ṣanʿānī (d.211/826) and the Kufan
Ibn Abī Shaybah (d.ca.235/849). These muṣannaf were arranged into
chapters (or books, mubawwab), each of which treated a separate topic.
Again, however, they did not always effectively evaluate traditions. Indeed,
they not only included Prophetic narrations, but also the utterances of
the Companions and Successors, statements by Muslim mystics, and even
those of earlier prophets. Turning to the generation of scholars immediately
MUḤAMMAD IBN ISMĀʿĪL AL-BUKHĀRĪ 71
prior to al-Bukhārī, they compiled massive collections of traditions entitled

musnad. The traditions contained in these texts would also be of varying
soundness and probity. They were arranged in sections under the names
of the Companions who reputedly transmitted them. The most famous
of these texts was the musnad of Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal (d.241/855), which
included approximately 30,000 traditions. Given the potential unreliability
of these musnads, however, al-Bukhārī’s text and methodology represented
an important improvement, finally placing quality above quantity. Al-
Bukhārī’s promotion of the sahih. . . class of traditions no doubt reflected
al-Shāfiʿī’s (d.204/819) insistence that Prophetic narrations form the basis
of decisions in case law (ahkām).
. This may explain why al-Bukhārī is often
said to have been an adherent of the Shāfiʿī legal school.2
Al-Bukhārī organised his Ṣaḥīḥ into more than one hundred ‘books’,
containing about 3,450 sub-sections (tarjama, pl. tarājim). This feature
gives his text significant utility as a source of jurisprudence. Al-Bukhārī’s
inclusion of detailed ‘prefatory section headings’ to introduce and explain
hadiths also facilitated the use of his work as source material for rationally
deduced legal rulings (instinbāṭ al-fiqh) and ijtihād. This may reflect indirect
influence from the legal school founded by Abū Ḥanīfa (d.150/767), since
that great Iraqi rationalist popularised the use of topical arrangements
(mubawwab) in legal discussions. However, al-Bukhārī nowhere explicitly
cites any tradition on the authority of Abū Ḥanīfa.
Al-Bukhārī frequently summarises the texts and isnāds of his hadith, in
effect extracting small parts of longer narrations to create shorter narrations
that fit into specific topics. As a result, al-Bukhārī often scatters a single
hadith across several section headings. His pupil, Muslim b. al-Ḥajjāj
(d.261/875), in his own hadith collection, al-Musnad al-ṣaḥīḥ (completed
in 250/864 in Nisapur), followed a different method of citation, involving
a more systematic arrangement that avoided frequent repetition of hadith
across many chapters. Because of this, Sahih. . . Muslim has been deemed
easier to employ for juridical purposes – and even though Muslim did not
use section headings.3
Nevertheless, al-Bukhārī’s ‘scattered hadith’ methodology had a
purpose: the repetition of different hadith in different chapters served to
highlight their diverse aspects and applications.4 An illustrative example is
al-Bukhārī’s use of the hadith stating that “Deeds rely on intentions.” This
first appears in the first book and chapter of Sahih. . . al-Bukhārī, entitled
“How the Revelation to the Apostle of God Began.” At first glance,
however, it seems ill-suited to a discussion of revelation. Nevertheless, al-
Bukhārī augmented his understanding of this hadith by relating it to the
Qur’anic verse, “We revealed unto thee as We revealed unto Noah and the
Prophets after him” (4:163). This allowed him to argue that this hadith
established a normative purpose and sense of continuity between all the
revelations to all the prophets.5
In terms of text, al-Bukhārī’s Ṣaḥīḥ exists in several ‘lines-of-narration’
(riwāyāt). The one transmitted by Abū al-Haytham al-Kushmayhānī
(d.389/999) on the authority of al-Bukhārī’s pupil, al-Firabrī, remains the
most widely accepted.6 At least seventy full commentaries have been written
on al-Bukhārī’s great Ṣaḥīḥ. The best known and most oft-cited is that of
renowned Egyptian savant, al-Ḥāfiẓ ibn Hajar al-ʿAsqalānī (d.852/1448),
known as Fath. al-bārī sharḥ ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī.
In sum, al-Bukhārī’s decision to collect only authentic hadith marked
a watershed in Islamic scholarship. This revolutionary approach “broke
stridently with the practices of the transmission-based school.”7 This sahīh-
. . .
movement, as one might call it, was very much a product of its time.
While the earliest Muslims had been first-hand witnesses to revelation,
watching it unfold before their eyes, the passage of time had increased
the distance between the adherents of Islam and that religion’s origins.
What had previously been common knowledge now became obscure and
uncertain. It was within this context that al-Bukhārī’s magisterial work
emerged, to provide a new measure of certainty for those wishing to
emulate the example of the Prophet Muḥammad.
Undoubtedly, al-Bukhārī’s exceptional feat of scholarship constitutes
a magnificent contribution to Islam, qualifying him as an ‘architect of
Islamic civilisation’. Muhammad Asad, in his preface to his translation
of Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī, argued that the authenticated hadiths compiled by
al-Bukhārī remain an invaluable source of information, both for scholars
and laymen alike.8 In the contemporary period, however, many Muslims
have unfortunately turned their back on the hadith literature. Whether
infected by an ill-founded scepticism, or misled by the mistaken idea that
the Qur’an alone can be the one source of guidance for Muslims, they
labour under the misguided impression that the reliability and relevance
of the Prophetic traditions is suspect. This attitude, however, does a great
disservice to the keen critical intelligence and thorough analytical method
taught by al-Bukhārī and the other great hadith scholars who laboured to
preserve the Sunna of God’s Messenger.
MUḤAMMAD IBN ISMĀʿĪL AL-BUKHĀRĪ 73
Notes
1. The term sunan (pl. sunna) denotes the Prophet’s utterances, deeds and
decisions.
2. Ibn Taymiyyah was asked whether al-Bukhārī was qualified to deduce his
own conditions in jurisprudence. He replied that al-Bukhārī was “an imām
in jurisprudence, a scholar capable of deducing his own rulings [min ahl al-
ijtihād].” See Majmūʿ al-Fatāwā v. 20, 25.
3. Section headings were inserted into Muslim’s Ṣaḥīḥ later, all with varying
degrees of success. Like al-Bukhārī’s text, Muslim’s work is also known as
al-Jāmiʿ al-ṣaḥīḥ.
4. Ghassan Abdul Jabbar, Bukhari (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2007),
25.
5. Ibid, 26.
6. See the recent definitive edition of the Ṣaḥīḥ by the eminent Shaykh ʿAbd
Allāh b. al-Ṣiddīq al-Ghimārī, which relies on Firabrī’s version: www.
thesaurus- islamicus.li. For more details, also consult Jabbar, Bukhari.
7. Jonathan Brown, The Canonization of al-Bukhari and Muslim: The Formation
and Function of the Sunni Hadith Canon (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 6.
8. Muḥammad ibn Ismāʻīl Bukhārī, Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī: The Early Years of Islam,
being the Historical Chapters of the Kitāb al-jāmiʻ aṣ-ṣaḥīḥ, trans. Muhammad
Asad (Kuala Lumpur: Islamic Book Trust, 2002), vii.
Further Reading
Al-Bukhārī, Muḥammad ibn Ismāʻīl. Al-Jāmiʿ al-Ṣaḥīḥ al-Musnad min Ḥadīth
Rasūlillāhi wa Sunanihi wa Ayāmihi, edited by Shaykh ʿAbdallāh b. al-Ṣiddīq
al-Ghimārī. Available at: www.thesaurus- islamicus.li.
____________________________. Ṣaḥīḥ Al-Bukhārī: The Early Years of Islam,

being the Historical Chapters of the Kitāb al-jāmiʻ aṣ-ṣaḥīḥ, translated by
Muhammad Asad. Kuala Lumpur: Islamic Book Trust, 2002.
Jabbar, Ghassan Abdul. Bukhari. New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2007.
Brown, Jonathan. The Canonization of al-Bukhari and Muslim: The Formation and
Function of the Sunni Hadith Canon. Leiden: Brill, 2007.
10
Abū Yūsuf Ya‘qūb ibn Ishāq
. Al-Kindī
(196-256AH/800-870CE)
Karim D. Crow
Abū Yūsuf Yaʿqūb ibn Isḥāq al-Kindī was an Arab aristocrat from the tribe
of Kinda. Born in Basra in ca.196AH/800CE, he passed away in Baghdad
in ca.256/870. A remarkable polymath, he promoted the collection of
Hellenic scientific knowledge and its translation into Arabic. Al-Kindī
worked for most of his life in Baghdad, where he benefitted from the
patronage of three powerful ʿAbbāsid caliphs, al-Ma’mūn (r.197-218/813–
833), al-Muʿtaṣim (r.218-227/833–842) and al-Wāthiq (r.227-232/842–
847), all of whom were keenly interested in harmonising the Hellenic
scientific legacy with Islamic revelation. Caliph al-Ma’mūn, for example,
expanded his palace library into the major intellectual institution, Bayt
al-Hikmah
. (House of Wisdom), where Arabic translations from Pahlavi,
Syriac, Greek and Sanskrit originals were made by a team of dedicated
scholars that included al-Kindī.
Al-Kindī was a pioneer in many subjects, including mathematics,
chemistry, physics, psycho-somatic therapeutics, geometry, optics,
musical theory, and philosophy of science. His mathematical writings, for
example, greatly facilitated the diffusion of Indian numerals (today called
‘Arabic numerals’) throughout Southwest Asia and North Africa. He also
invented specific laboratory apparatus to help implement experiments, a
mathematical scale to quantify the strength of drugs, and a system that,
linked to the phases of the moon, permitted a doctor to determine in
advance the most critical days of a patient’s illness. He also provided the
first scientific diagnosis and treatment for epilepsy and developed psycho-
cognitive techniques to combat depression.
The tenth-century scholar, Ibn al-Nadim (d.385 or 388/995 or
998), claimed that al-Kindī wrote over two hundred and fifty books.
ABŪ YŪSUF YA‘QŪB IBN ISḤĀQ AL-KINDĪ 75
Regrettably, however, less than one-sixth are still extant, and some of those
only in Medieval Latin translations. Nevertheless, in the mid-twentieth
century, a manuscript was found in Turkey containing twenty-four short
philosophical treatises by al-Kindī. These were subsequently published
in Cairo, in 1950. This and other fresh discoveries over the past several
decades have made it easier to appreciate al-Kindī’s seminal contribution to
both Islamic and world civilisation. Indeed, recent research shows that, in
addition to the aforementioned subjects, al-Kindī also made fundamental
contributions to cryptography, weather forecasting, botany, the study of
environmental pollution, pharmacology, cosmetics and the manufacture
of perfume.
During the first half of the third/ninth century, al-Kindī also gathered
together an outstanding group of scholars, drawn from several religious
backgrounds. Known today as the ‘Kindī Circle’, their influence persisted
over several centuries, until the era of al-Ghazālī (d.505/1111). Al-Kindī
directed this circle in their study of Greek, Persian and Indian wisdom,
helping them to organise the production of a vast body of work on all
aspects of natural science. In his text, On First Philosophy, al-Kindī specified
the guiding principle behind this great effort:
We must not be ashamed to admire the truth or to acquire it, from
wherever it comes. Even if it should come from far-flung nations
and foreign peoples, there is for the student of truth nothing more
important than the truth…Study the books of wisdom! For that is
the feast of the rational souls.
Perhaps al-Kindī’s most important achievement, however, was the
formation of an Arabic philosophical vocabulary, which he systematised
in his glossary of terms and definitions, entitled Kitāb al-ḥudūd, (Book of
Definitions). In the long run, this signaled the rise of a rational discourse
beyond that of the traditionalist ulama or speculative theologians. Al-Kindī
intended to combine Islam with Hellenic thought; philosophy and science
were understood to vindicate the pursuit of rational scientific activity in
the service of Islam. In his Book of Definitions, al-Kindī gave six definitions
of philosophy:
1. Love of wisdom. 2. To make oneself resemble divine actions
to the extent possible for humans (i.e. to perfect virtue). 3. To be
concerned with death – with the soul abandoning preoccupation
with the body, and the death of the passions. 4. The ‘Art of arts’
and the ‘Wisdom of wisdoms’. 5. Human knowledge of oneself [al-
Kindī preferred this definition, as it led to knowledge of man as a

microcosm]. 6. Knowledge of eternal and universal things to the
extent possible for humans (i.e. the essence of philosophy).1
Al-Kindī’s teachings on the mind (al-ʿaql) stressed the immaterial
substance of intelligible realities, including the rational soul. He also taught
that human knowledge (ʿilm insānī) was derive from various sources and
should be expected to develop, increase and be perfected over time. He
and his circle took this duty very seriously; he emphasised the value of
gaining scientific knowledge as a religious enterprise for all intellectuals.
Al-Kindī was committed to formulating a synthesis between certain
philosophical ideas and specific articles of Islamic faith. He hoped, for
example, to elaborate a mode of philosophic tawḥīd, where Allah would
be described as ‘The One First Real’ (al-Wāḥid al-Ḥaqq al-Awwal). He also
defended the Qur’anic doctrines of creation from nothing and that the
universe will come to an end. This last point, which contradicts Aristotle,
was affirmed in his On the Unity of God and the Limitation of the Body of the
World. In his cosmologic work, On the Prostration of the Outermost Sphere,
al-Kindī also explained that the heavens are possessed of souls and freely
follow God’s command, moving in such a way that the providentially
intended sublunary events can occur. According to al-Kindī, this is what
the Qur’an refers to when stating that the stars ‘prostrate’ themselves
before God (cf Q55:6). He viewed philosophy as the contents of “the
science of things and their true nature,” and so identical to the message
of the Prophets. Al-Kindī thus prayed for God’s assistance in pursuit of
knowledge and venerated the Prophet’s message.
Among the many important writings produced by the Kindī Circle, we
should mention an extensive commentary/paraphrase of the Enneads (Books
IV–VI) of Plotinus (d.270 or 271), the great Neoplatonic philosopher of
Alexandria. This was translated by the Christian philosopher, ʿAbd al-
Masīḥ ibn Nā‘imah, with al-Kindī editing its Arabic terminology. This
highly influential text was later transmitted as the Theology [uthūlūjiyyah]
of Aristotle. Its teachings on the soul and self-knowledge were amongst the
fundamental themes of al-Kindī’s rational research.
Closely related to the Theology of Aristotle were another set of
translations, this time from the Elements of Theology by the major
Neoplatonic thinker, Proclus (d.485). These conveyed a monotheistic
creationist interpretation of the soul and served al-Kindī’s circle with a
philosophical model for Islamic tawḥīd. Later, a translation was also made
of Nichomachus’s Introduction to Arithmetic, a Neo-Pythagorean guide to
ABŪ YŪSUF YA‘QŪB IBN ISḤĀQ AL-KINDĪ 77
number theory that was reworked by al-Kindī from a version by Ḥabīb b.

Bihrīz. The distinctive literary style and consistent technical vocabulary of
these translations confirmed that a group of multireligious collaborators,
united by a common purpose (to promote Hellenic thought in Arabic),
could transcend factional dogmas.
Despite his achievements, al-Kindī spent the last twenty years of
his life suffering humiliation and censure. When caliph al-Mutawakkil
(r.232-247/847–861) took power, he chose to win popular support by
championing the cause of Ḥanbalī traditionalism. This put an end to the
Miḥnah (inquisition) which had enforced rationalist Muʿtazilite doctrine
during the previous reign. It also led to al-Kindī’s arrest, the confiscation
of his personal library and the suppression of his work. Ultimately, al-
Mutawakkil’s brand of orthodoxy could not tolerate the marriage of
revelation and scientific rationalism.
Nevertheless, al-Kindī’s legacy persisted as a distinct school, highly
esteemed by professional scholars, including those within the secretarial
class of the government administration. Over time, his work became a
foundational part of the Islamic-Hellenic synthesis that proved central
to the classical canon of adab (medieval Islamic literature), helping to
furnish the basis for a rationalist approach to ethics, knowledge and virtue.
Even today, al-Kindī’s scientific studies provide an argument in favour
of the harmonious co-existence of rationality and religion – not only in
the context of Islam, but for all divinely revealed faiths. D. Gutas has
stated that the Kindī Circle “developed an overarching vision of the unity
and interrelatedness of all knowledge and its research along verifiable
and rational lines.” Without the achievements of this ‘philosopher of the
Arabs’, who brought reason into the orbit of revelation and systematised
the Arabisation of philosophic language, later thinkers like al-Fārābī
(d.339/950) and Ibn Sīnā (d.429/1037) would not have been able to
express their ideas so effectively. Moreover, if the Kindī Circle had not
created the language of Arabic–Islamic rationalism, then Europe and the
Muslim world, from the Middle Ages until today, would not have found a
common language with which to assign names to the principles of Being
and understand humanity’s epistemic faculties. In this sense, al-Kindī
spearheaded history’s first truly international ecumenist movement.
Notes
1. Al-Kindī, Rasā’il al-Kindī al-Falsafiyah, vol. 1, edited by Abu Ridah (Cairo:
Al-Qāhirah Dār al-fikr al-'Arabī 1950), 172–4.
Further Reading
Adamson, Peter. Al-Kindi. New York: Oxford University Press, 2007.
Al-Kindī. Rasā’il al-Kindī al-Falsafiyah, 2 vols., edited by Abu Ridah. (Cairo: Al-
Qāhirah Dār al-fikr al-'Arabī 1950 & 1953).

Endress, Gerhard. ‘The Circle of al-Kindi: Early Arabic Translations from the
Greek and the Rise of Islamic Philosophy.’ In The Ancient Tradition in Christian
and Islamic Hellenism, edited by G. Endress and R. Kruk, 43-76. Leiden:
Research School CNWS, 1997.

Gari, L. ‘Arabic Treatises on Environmental Pollution up to the End of the
Thirteenth Century.’ Environment and History 8, no. 4 (2002): 475–488.
Zimmermann, F. W. ‘The Origins of the So-Called Theology of Aristotle.’ In

Pseudo-Aristotle in the Middle Ages, edited by J. Kraye et al., 110-240. London:
Warburg Institute, 1986.

11
-
Muslim Ibn al-Ḥajjāj al-Nīsāpuri
(ca. 202-261AH/817-875CE)
Born in ca.202AH/817CE in Nisaphur, a Persian city in the ‘Abbāsid

province of Khurasan, Muslim ibn al-Ḥajjāj al-Qushayrī studied the hadith
from an early age. After becoming the student of many prominent scholars
from his own hometown – including Isḥāq ibn Rāhawayh (d.238/853) and
Yaḥyā ibn Yaḥyā al-Tamīmī (d.226/841) – Muslim became well-known in
his own right as a muḥaddith (scholar of hadith), with his own hadith
compendium, known as Ṣaḥīḥ al-Muslim, gaining recognition as one of
Islam’s two most authentic hadith collections (alongside Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī).
Muslim was indeed an excellent example of an active and itinerant
savant in the pursuit of studying hadith throughout the Muslim world.
At the age of just twelve (i.e. in 220/835) he travelled to Makkah for
pilgrimage and grabbed the opportunity to study under ‘Abd Allāh ibn
Maslana al-Qa’anabī (d.221/836), a renowned Hijazi hadith scholar.
Later, he visited Baghdad to study with Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal (d.241/855),
also travelling to Basra, Syria, Egypt, and Rayy to study with such noted
hadith scholars as Abū Zur’a al-Rāzī (d.264/878) and Abū Ḥātim al-Rāzī
(d.277/890). Indeed, he only finally returned to settle in Nishapur a few
years before his death.
Muslim left behind a significant number of scholarly works, greater
in number than those produced by his contemporaries. His most famous
work is his Ṣaḥīḥ (also known as Musnad al-Ṣaḥīḥ), a collection of
approximately 4000 authentic hadith extracted from a body of 300,000
narrations using a stringent selection criteria. Muslim preserved the larger
body of hadith in two additional collections – namely, a muṣannaf and a
musnad. He also produced some large biographical inventories, such as
his al-Ṭabaqāt, in which he provided the names of hadith transmitters
from the generation after the Prophet. Amongst his smaller works, the al-
Munfaridāt wal-waḥdān records people from whom hadith were quoted
by only one transmitter. He also wrote a book of criticised narrations,
called Kitāb al-tamyīz (The Book of Discernment), which only partially
survives as the introduction to his Ṣaḥīḥ.
Muslim was a close companion and student of the great hadith scholar
and teacher, Muḥammad ibn Ismā‘īl al-Bukhārī (d.256/870). Indeed, so
close were they that there is considerable overlap between their hadith
collections. Abū Bakr al-Jawzaqī (d.388/988) reports in his book, al-
Muttafaq, that there are 2326 traditions common to both works, with
the two scholars sharing approximately 2400 transmitters. Moreover,
it is reported that one day Muslim stood up and left the study circle of
Muḥammad ibn Yaḥyā al-Dhuhlī (d.258/872), another formidable hadith
scholar from Naysabur, when the latter forbade his students from attending
al-Bukhārī’s lessons due to a controversy over the creation of the Qur’an
(Khalq al-Qur’ān). Muslim even sent a porter to al-Dhuhlī, carrying all
the written materials Muslim had collected from al-Dhuhlī’s lectures.
This course of action, however, resulted in many criticisms of Muslim;
other scholars accused him of being disrespectful to his own teacher.
Nonetheless, most hadith scholars, especially in the decades after the
demise of al-Bukhārī and Muslim, have come to regard both individuals
as the most accomplished scholars in their field. Together, they functioned
as a catalyst for hadith transmission, with both of their Ṣaḥīḥ eventually
becoming their lasting legacies.
Despite his close association with al-Bukhārī, Muslim differed
from him on some technical issues. An elementary instance of this relates
to the issue of ascertaining a link in a chain of transmitters (isnād) using
the word ‘from’ (‘an). Al-Bukhārī set the requirement that two transmitters
in an isnād could not be said to have met unless there was evidence of the
meeting. Muslim, on the other hand, maintained that when ’an was used,
no affirmative evidence of an actual meeting was required. In addition to
this, Muslim also differed from al-Bukhārī in excluding any hadith from
the Companions that did not have a full isnād. Also unlike al-Bukhārī,
Muslim devoted less attention to legal discussions – although when he
did, and also unlike al-Bukhārī, he would offer supporting statements
for both sides. Regarding the controversy pertaining to the creation of
the Qur’an (above), and which plagued al-Bukhārī’s intellectual career,
Muslim managed to avoid this issue. In terms of form, Muslim’s Ṣaḥīḥ
contains fewer chapters than al-Bukhārī’s and, unlike al-Bukhārī, Muslim
keeps all the narrations of a particular hadith in the same section.
MUSLIM IBN AL-ḤAJJĀJ AL-NĪSĀPŨRI 81
As mentioned, since his death Muslim has been widely recognised

for his talent and authority in hadith studies. For instance, Muḥammad
b. Bashār Bundār (d.252/866) expressed his admiration for Muslim by
saying that “the ḥadīth masters of the world are four: Abū Zur’a al-Rāzī
in Rayy, Muslim in Naysabur, al-Darimī in Samarqand, and al-Bukhārī in
Bukhara.”1 Nevertheless, it took some time for this recognition to become
widespread; it is essential to note that the earliest assessments of the hadith
scholars often ignore Muslim (and, indeed, al-Bukhārī). Muslim, it seems,
did not merit any special attention from his teachers’ generation. The
earliest mention of him, therefore, comes from Ibn Abī Ḥātim (d.327/938),
whose monumental work on hadith criticism, entitled al-Jarḥ wa al-ta’dīl,
provides a brief account of his life with the rather modest compliment
that he was “trustworthy, one of the ḥadīth masters, with knowledge of
ḥadīth.”2
This faint praise, may have resulted from the fact that Muslim
received some strong criticism from his contemporary hadith specialists.
The influential bloc of Rāzī scholars in Rayy, for example, and which
included both Abū Zur’a al-Rāzī and Ibn Wāra al-Rāzī (d.270/884), saw
Muslim’s work as an attempt to undermine the legal methodology of the
transmission-based scholars. In particular, they highlighted three primary
criticisms of Muslim’s work. Firstly, they regarded it as an insolent measure,
as little more than glory seeking. Abū Zur’a, for example, reputedly said
of Muslim’s work:
These are people who wanted prominence before their time, so they
did something for which they show off; they wrote books the likes
of which none had written before to gain for themselves precedence
before their time…3
Secondly, they rejected Muslim’s judgement concerning the reliability
of some transmitters, deeming his evaluation criteria flawed and subjective.
Finally, they claimed that the measure taken by Muslim to produce a
compilation of definitive and authentic hadith was laden with risk, as it
could impede the use of other hadith which were consequently presumed
to be inferior. Regarding this third accusation, however, Muslim provided
an answer:
Indeed I produced this book and declared it authentic, but I did not
say that aḥādīth I did not include in this book are weak. Rather, I
produced this from authentic aḥādīth to be a collection for me and
those who transmit from me without its authenticity being doubted.
I did not say that everything else is weak…4

Even though the work of Muslim met with resistance during his own
lifetime, in the wake of his death it gained much wider recognition,
emerging as a formative Islamic text. This process began in big cities
like Naysabur, Jurjan, and Baghdad, and denoted a new tendency
among scholars to regard the Ṣaḥīḥ genre as, not a threat to the living
transmission of Prophetic traditions, but as an avenue for expressing a
personal connection to the authority of the Prophet. From this point
on, scholars started using Muslim’s Ṣaḥīḥ and methodologies in order
to compile their own collections of hadith. This approach generated the
mustakhraj movement, which in Naysabur became centred on Muslim’s
Ṣaḥīḥ (at Jurjan, al-Bukhārī’s Ṣaḥīḥ was key, while in Baghdad other works
were used). Producing a mustakhraj involved using a Ṣaḥīḥ as a template,
with another author then providing his own narrations for each of the
hadith in the template, along with his own isnād extending to the Prophet.
Immediately after the demise of Muslim, and until the end of the fourth/
tenth century, scholars in Naysabur produced many mustakhraj from his
Ṣaḥīḥ. Among those who took such an initiative were Abū Bakr Faḍl al-
Ṣā’igh (d.270/883), Abū Bakr Muḥammad ibn Rajā’ (d.286/899), and
Aḥmad ibn Salama al-Bazzār (d.286/899). By the end of the fourth/tenth
century, it was reported that no less than ten mustakhraj of Muslim’s Ṣaḥīḥ
existed in Naysabur. Subsequently, several important commentaries were
also written on it. The best-known of these are Muḥyī al-Dīn al-Nawawī’s
(d.676/1277) al-Minhāj bi sharḥ Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim and Ibn al-Ṣalāḥ’s
(d.643/1245) Ṣiyānah Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim.
Muslim breathed his last in 261/875, at the age of fifty-five. His life
came to epitomise scholarly devotion to the guardianship of the prophetic
traditions. Certainly, his was a laborious and challenging endeavour,
involving both the painstaking collection and evaluation of a large number
of narrations and the development of a tenable assessment method for
the reliability of their transmitters. Some contemporary Muslims fail to
fully comprehend the importance of this complex task. Instead, they turn
their back on the hadith due to a simplistic and ill-founded belief that the
Qur’an alone is sufficient as a primary religious reference for Muslims. To
take account of the life of hadith masters like Imam Muslim, however, is
to inculcate a sense of urgency amongst those Muslims who wish to benefit
from his monumental work.
MUSLIM IBN AL-ḤAJJĀJ AL-NĪSĀPŨRI 83
Notes
1. Yāqūt ibn Abdallāh al-Hamawī, Mu’jam al-Buldān, vol. 1 (Tehran: Maktabah
al-Asadī, 1965), 174.
2. Ibn Abī Ḥātim, al-Jarḥ wa al-Ta’dīl, vol. 4 (Hyderabad: Dā’irat al-Ma’ārif,
1953), 182-3.
3. Al-Khaṭīb al-Baghdādī, Tārīkh Baghdād, ed. Mustafā
.. ‘Abd al-Qādir, vol. 12
(Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyyah, 1997), 363.
4. Al-Nawawī, Sharḥ Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim, vol. 1 (Beirut: Dār al-Qalam, 1987), 135-
6.
Further Reading
Abdul Mawjood, Salahuddin ‘Ali. The Biography of Imam Muslim bin al-Hajjaj,
translated by Abu Bakr Ibn Nasir. Riyadh: Darussalam, 2007.
Ali, Syed Bashir. Scholars of Hadith: The Makers of Islamic Civilisation Series.
Malaysia: IQRAʼ International Educational Foundation, 2003.
Azami, Muhammad Mustafa. Studies in Hadith Methodology and Literature. Kuala

Lumpur: Islamic Book Trust, 1995.
Brown, Jonathan. The Canonisation of al-Bukhārī and Muslim: The Formation and
Function of The Sunnī Ḥadīth Canon. Leiden: Brill, 2011.
12
Muhammad
. Ibn Jarīr al-Ṭabarī
(ca.224-310AH/839-923CE)
Apnizan Abdullah
Abū Ja’far Muḥammad ibn Jarīr al-Ṭabarī (ca.224-310AH/839-923CE)

was a great Sharia scholar and historian who produced a prodigious
chain of history concerning the rise and fall of various Muslim sects.1
His outstanding work, Tārīkh al-Ṭabarī (The History of al-Ṭabarī),2 has
become a pivotal source of information for many generations of historians
interested in Islamic history and civilisation. His work started to gain its
remarkable popularity upon its translation into Persian in the year 351/963
upon the order of the Samanid Prince, Manṣūr ibn Nūḥ. Al-Ṭabarī’s
historical data derived from numerous sources, including classical poetry,
genealogy and tribal customs. These were all collected during his travels.
The sources range in date from the Hijra to the year 302/915.3 Miskawaya
(d.421/1030), Ibn Athīr (d.630/1233) and Abū al-Fidā’ (d.731/1331) are
amongst the early Islamic historians who have referred to the historical
works of al-Ṭabarī.4
Apart from history, al-Ṭabarī is also well-known for his notable
contributions to the field of Qur’an and hadith studies. His most influential
and best-known work in this area is the Qur’anic commentary, Tafsīr al-
Ṭabarī (The Commentary of al-Ṭabarī). This explains the Qur’anic text
(sometimes word-by-word) based on its historical, lexicographic and
juridical explanations. For every single hadith al-Ṭabarī worked on, the
chain of isnāds (narrators) is sound and complete. He learnt fiqh (Islamic
jurisprudence) from various schools of thought, including Ḥanafī, Mālikī,
Shāfi‘ī, Ḥanbalī and Ẓāhirī. He also founded his own school of thought,
known as Jarīrī.5
MUḤAMMAD IBN JARĪR AL-ṬABARĪ 85
His Early Days

Abū Ja’far al-Ṭabarī was born in Amul,6 Tabiristan (Iran), during the
winter of 224-5/839 in the reign of the ‘Abbāsid caliph, al-Mu’tasim.7
After starting his religious education early, by age seven he had memorised
the entire Qur’an. He served as a prayer leader from the age of eight and
began to study the prophetic traditions at age nine. It was narrated that his
father had a dream concerning him: his father saw him standing before the
Prophet, holding a bag filled with stones which he then spread in front of
the Prophet. On the basis of this, a dream interpreter told al-Ṭabarī’s father
that al-Ṭabarī would grow up as a good Muslim and become a defender of
its Sharia.8 Because of this, al-Ṭabarī’s father agreed to support his studies,
eventually encouraging him to leave home in his quest for knowledge.9
His Quest for Knowledge

Al-Ṭabarī left home in 236/850, when he was just twelve. He retained
close ties to his home town, however, returning at least twice (although, on
the final occasion in 290/901, his outspokenness caused some uneasiness
and led to his quick departure).10 His studies took him first to al-Ray, on
the site of present-day Tehran. He remained there for about five years.
The most prominent figures amongst his teachers at al-Ray were: al-
Muthannā ibn Ibrāhīm al-Āmulī (d.ca.240/854), Salama ibn al-Faḍl al-
Maghāzī (d.191/806) and Aḥmad ibn Ḥammād al-Dawlābī. Perhaps his
most notable teacher at al-Ray, however, was Ibn Ḥumayd (or Abū ‘Abd
Allāh Muḥammad ibn Ḥumayd al-Rāzī, d.248/862), who was then in his
seventies. Ibn Ḥumayd had previously lectured in Baghdad, but had been
invited to al-Ray by the noted jurist, Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal. Ibn Ḥumayd
became one of al-Ṭabarī’s most frequently cited authorities.11 Both with
him and his other teachers, al-Ṭabarī studied Ḥanafī jurisprudence and
the historical works of Ibn Isḥāq (a well-known author of al-Sīra, or the life
of the Prophet Muhammad). Indeed, al-Ṭabarī’s own historical approach
would be substantially influenced by his study of Ibn Isḥāq’s Mubtada’ and
Maghāzī. Al-Ṭabarī was also introduced to pre-Islamic and early Islamic
history during this period.12
After al-Ray, al-Ṭabarī’s quest for knowledge took him to Baghdad.
Arriving there when he was not yet seventeen, he went with an expectation
of studying under Ibn Ḥanbal. The latter, however, had died in either
late 241/855 or early 242/856, i.e. shortly before al-Ṭabarī’s arrival.
Nevertheless, al-Ṭabarī stayed in Baghdad until 242/859, after which he
journeyed to other important places, including Basra, Kufa and probably

Wasit. In Basra, he met and studied under many eminent scholars,
including Ḥumayd ibn Mas’ada (who he frequently quotes in his Tafsīr)
and Muḥammad ibn Bashshār, also known as Bundār. Indeed, he frequently
cites Bundār as a transmitter in his works.13
In Kufa, on the other hand, al-Ṭabarī met Hannād ibn al-Sarī
(d.243/857), who reputedly provided him with much information for
his Tafsīr. In addition, al-Ṭabarī also encountered Ismā’īl ibn Mūsā al-
Fazārī (d.245/859), Sulaymān ibn ‘Abd al-Raḥmān ibn Ḥammād al-
Ṭalḥī (d.252/866, an expert in reciting the Qur’an) and Abū Kurayb
Muḥammad ibn al-A’lā (d.247-8/861-2). The latter in particular exercised
great influence on al-Ṭabarī; although Abū Kurayb was a difficult scholar,
al-Ṭabarī managed to mollify him, appeasing him with his extraordinary
ability. In particular, Abū Kurayb was amazed with al-Ṭabarī’s ability to
memorise hadith.14
After spending about two years in southern Iraq, in 244/858 al-Ṭabarī
returned to Baghdad. There he was invited by the vizier, Ubaydallāh ibn
Yaḥyā ibn Khāqān (al-Khāqānī), to teach his son, Abū Yaḥyā. He held this
tutorial position for four years (244AH-248AH), with the vizier paying him
ten dinar per month (reportedly al-Ṭabarī refused any extra remuneration
or gifts on top of the agreed pay).15 In Baghdad, al-Ṭabarī also reportedly
met and studied with Aḥmad ibn Yūsuf al-Taghlibī, before learning Shāfi‘ī
jurisprudence under the supervision of Abū Sa’īd al-Iṣṭakhrī.16
Later, in 253/867, al-Ṭabarī visited Egypt, reportedly stopping in Syria
and Palestine on the way. Although unclear, he probably also studied in the
latter two locations: his writings include references to scholars from Hims
(or Homs),17 al-Ramla18 and Asqalan.19 In Beirut, he also studied under
al-‘Abbās ibn al-Walīd ibn Mazyad al-‘Udhrī al-Bayrūtī (d.270/883), who
instructed him in variant readings (ḥurūf) of the Qur’an according to
the Syrian School. Al-Bayrūtī was also instrumental in conveying to al-
Ṭabarī the legal views of the important scholar ‘Abd al-Raḥmān al-Awzā’ī
(d.156/773-4). With al-Bayrūtī, al-Ṭabarī also completed his study of the
Qur’an based on the narrations of the people of Syam.20
When al-Ṭabarī finally arrived in Egypt, he studied under Abū al-Ḥasan
‘Alī ibn Sirāj and Yūnus ibn ‘Abd al-‘A’lā, both leading Egyptian scholars in
hadith and Qur’anic recitation. Since Egypt also hosted a great number of
Shāfi‘ī and Mālikī scholars, al-Ṭabarī gained an understanding of these legal
systems during this period, too. From the Shāfi‘ī side, he studied with al-
Rabī’ ibn Sulaymān and Muḥammad ibn al-Ḥakam, while from the Mālikī
side he encountered Muḥammad ibn ‘Abd Allāh ibn ‘Abd al-Ḥakam.21
After his time in Egypt, al-Ṭabarī returned to Baghdad. There he began

identifying himself as a Shāfi‘ī scholar. He continued in this mould for
the next ten years (i.e. until 267/880), after which he concentrated on
teaching and publishing his own works on legal theory and practice, in
addition to Qur’anic commentary and history. This development placed
him at the forefront of scholars. Indeed, many students came to study with
him, eventually constituting themselves as a special madhhab, known as
Jarīrī.22
Al-Ṭabarī: A Scholar
Like other scholars from the period, al-Ṭabarī mastered three fields
of learning: legal theory, Qur’anic science and history. His enormous
contributions to these three areas are attributable to his exceptional
learning in a variety of other disciplines. In particular, his work on
tafsīr demonstrates his outstanding capability in Arabic grammar and
lexicography. Indeed, he was famous for his interest in foreign languages:
his tafsīr discusses the relationship between Persian, Arabic and Ethiopic
loan words in the Qur’an. He also knew the language of ‘Uman in addition
to Coptic.23
Apart from the above, al-Ṭabarī also studied poetry with the great
philologist, Thallab. In this respect, Ghulam Thallab (another of Thallab’s
students) praised the accuracy of grammar and language used by al-Ṭabarī
in his tafsīr. The science of prosody (the patterns of rhyme and sound
in poetry, urud) was also known to al-Ṭabarī through his reading of al-
Khalīl’s fundamental work on the matter.
In addition, al-Ṭabarī also excelled in arithmetic, algebra, logic,
dialectics and falsafa (philosophy), the last of which he utilised to refute
Mu’tazila views. It was reported that medicine was also one of al-Ṭabarī’s
great interests, which he pursued with his acquaintance, ‘Alī ibn Rabbān,
author of the great medical encyclopaedia, Firdaws al-ḥikma.24
His Prominent Attributes

Al-Ṭabarī was well-known for being both humble and ethical. These
attributes are particularly evident in the context of his attitudes towards
gifts, which he would always reject. For example, he rejected the gifts
offered by the aforementioned vizier, al-Khāqānī, when appointed to teach
his son. Al-Ṭabarī likewise refused a magnificent gift of three thousand
dinars from the politician Ḥamdān ibn Ḥamdūn (d.282/895), the eventual
founder of the Ḥamdānid Dynasty) on the pretext that he could not afford
to return a gift of similar value. Indeed, throughout his lifetime al-Ṭabarī
tried his very best to disassociate himself from all gifts, particularly those
extended by people in positions of power (including the caliph). He always
shied away from them as so as to avoid allying himself with the political
agendas of the donors. For him, a gift could become an embarrassment at
some future time. This demonstrates his high integrity and dignity.
Al-Ṭabarī was an easy going person who had a very good relationship
with his neighbours, be they scholars or ordinary people. He attended
picnics with them and gave advice to their children. In terms of physical
appearance, al-Ṭabarī was tall and lean, had a dark-brown complexion,
large eyes and a long beard. He reportedly kept his black hair and beard
until he was in his eighties. The leanness of his figure was not heredity, but
attributable to his attitude towards diet: he avoided fat and made full use
of raisins, fresh dates, herbal leaves (such as thyme and habbatussawda),
unripe fruits, refined wheat flour and olive oil. There is an anecdote that
he insisted on both cleanliness and good table manners, all in accordance
with the traditions of the Prophet.
All-in-all, al-Ṭabarī was a religious scholar whose life was occupied
with reading and teaching the Qur’an, observing prayers, and writing.25
His Moderate Stance and Accusations of Shi’a-leanings

Al-Ṭabarī was an honest scholar whose approach to writing was rooted in
his constant and courageous expression of ijtihād (independent judgment).
Overall, his views always leaned towards moderation and compromise.
This attitude is proven by his interpretation of a Qur’anic verse pertaining
to the practice of wiping the boot or washing the foot (5:6). While Sunni
scholars interpreted this verse as necessitating the washing of the whole
foot (i.e. not a mere act of wiping) Shi’a jurists insisted on interpreting it
as just wiping the boot or foot. Al-Ṭabarī combined both views and stated
that washing and wiping with one’s foot are equivalent processes.26
His moderation was further evidenced by the fact that he allowed
women to hold the post of judge (including in ḥudūd and qiṣāṣ cases), a
post many scholars limited to men. Overall, he held the view that male
and female judges were on an equal footing.27
Al-Ṭabarī’s admiration of ‘Alī led some to accuse him of being a Shiite.
Certainly, al-Ṭabarī made it clear that he viewed ‘Alī as the superior Imam
after the demise of the Prophet. Although this allegation may have caused
some difficulties with the Ḥanbalī School, it ultimately seems to have been
baseless; al-Ṭabarī stood as the defender of the first four caliphs, especially
Abū Bakr al-Ṣiddīq and ‘Umar al-Khaṭṭāb. It was reported that al-Ṭabarī
did not regard Ibn Ḥanbal’s dissenting opinion as having any weight; he
opined that Ibn Ḥanbal was not even a jurist, merely a recorder of hadith.28
His Works
Al-Ṭabarī’s major works are verbatim records of lectures he delivered to
students. Some of his surviving works are regarded as incomplete.29 They
include the following:30
1. Adab al-manāsik (The Proper Ways of Performing the Pilgrimage). This
work deals with the proper procedure for performing the pilgrimage.
Other authors have sometimes referred to it as Mukhtaṣar manāsik al-
Ḥaj, such as in Ibn ‘Asākir’s Irshād (also known as Kitāb al-manāsik).31
2. Adab al-nufūs (The Proper Ways of Spiritual Behaviour). This text
explains man’s religious duties in relation to all the parts of the human
body, beginning with the heart, tongue, eyes, ears and so on. It bases
itself on the traditions of the Prophet, the practice of the Companions
and their followers, as well as the deeds of the Sufis and other pious
men. This work remains incomplete.32
3. Kitāb ikhtilāf ‘ulamā’ al-amṣār fī aḥkām sharā‘i’ al-Islām (The
Disagreements of the Scholars in the Major Centres with Respect
to the Laws of Islam). Also referred to as either Ikhtilāf al-fuqahā’
(sometimes reduced to just Ikhtilāf) or al-I’tidhār, this text comprises
three thousand folios. In it, al-Ṭabarī discusses the substance of the
disagreements between scholars like Mālik bin Anas, ‘Abd al-Raḥmān
ibn ‘Amr al-Awzā’ī and Sufyān al-Thawrī. This work also contains al-
Ṭabarī’s defence of the Ḥanbalīs. The book remained unpublished
when al-Ṭabarī died, having been buried in the ground. It was finally
made public by the Ḥanbalīs. Al-Ṭabarī reportedly stated that: “I
have written two books that are indispensable for jurists, Ikhtilaf and
Latif.”33
4. Aḥāḍīth Ghadīr Khumm (Traditions of Ghadir Khum). This work has
been utilised by many (particularly Shia) scholars to justify the existence
of the event known as Ghadir Khum, when the Prophet reportedly
declared ‘Alī ibn Abī Ṭālib as his successor. This work was published
by al-Ṭabarī in order to refute a statement made by a Baghdadi scholar
that the Ghadir Khum episode could not be true because ‘Alī was in
Yemen at the time the declaration was supposedly made. Ibn Kathīr,
however, another great Muslim historian, was uncomfortable with this
work by al-Ṭabarī, claiming that, even though it was two volumes
long, al-Ṭabarī failed to distinguish sound information from weak.34
5. Fadā’il
. (Virtues). When working on his Ghadir Khum text, al-
Ṭabarī began praising and highlighting the many virtues of ‘Alī. As
a result, many Shi’a Muslims flocked to listen to his lectures on the
subject. When some extremist Shi’a, however, began slandering other
Companions of the Prophet, al-Ṭabarī started to write this text about
the virtues of Abū Bakr and ‘Umar. It also reportedly highlights the
virtues of ‘Abbās of the ‘Abbāsid dynasty.35
6. Basīṭ al-qawl fī aḥkām sharā‘i’ al-Islām (A Plain and Simple Exposition
of the Laws of Islam). Contained in 1500 folios, each chapter deals
with the legal agreements of the Companions and their followers. Al-
Ṭabarī also mentions his preferred view on each subject raised. The
work contains information about document forms (shurūṭ), records
and documents (al-mahādir . wa al-sijillāt), last wills (al-wasāyā),
.
characters of the judges (adab al-qādī),
. ritual purity, prayers, charity,
taxes and classification of scholars (tartīb al-‘ulamā’). This work is
incomplete.
7. Tabṣīr ulī al-nuhā wa ma’ālim al-hudā (An Instruction for the
Intelligent and Directions towards Right Guidance). Also known as
just al-Tabsīr,
. this completed book was addressed to the people of
Tabaristan and concerns the disagreements which had arisen amongst
them about the identity or non-identity of names and things named
and the doctrines of innovators. This book contains thirty folios.36
8. Ta’rīkh al-rusul wa al-mulūk (History of the Prophets and Kings)
or Ta’rīkh al-Ṭabarī. This text remains the major primary source for
historians of Islam. In it, al-Ṭabarī references numerous sources to
produce a comprehensive narrative of past events, as recorded by the
traditions he refers to. Ibn al-Mughallis stated that: “Nobody has
ever done what Abu Ja’far did in respect to writing and giving full
presentation of history.”37
9. Tahdhīb al-āthār wa tafṣīl ma’ānī al-thābit ‘an Rasul Allāh min al-akhbār
(An Improved Treatment and detailed Discussion of the Traditions
established as going back to the Prophet). This work deals with the
traditions transmitted from the Companions of the Prophet. The work
was probably meant to rival Ibn Ḥanbal’s Musnad. It is not, however,

a mere collection of traditions. Rather, it provides an exhaustive and
penetrating analysis of the philological and legal implications of each
hadith it contains. The text, however, remains unfinished.38
10. Jāmi‘ al-bayān ‘an ta’wīl āy al-Qur’ān (A Commentary on the Qur’an).
More commonly known as Tafsīr al-Ṭabarī, this is al-Ṭabarī’s second
great work. It has retained its outstanding importance to this day.
Taking him seven years to finish (namely, from 283AH to 290AH),
it extended his commentaries on the Qur’an. He used it to explain
his tafsīr, the legal data derived from the Qur’an, its abrogating
and abrogated verses, its difficult passages, its rare words and its
interpretation via the proper vocalization (i‘rāb ḥurūfihī). He did all
this word-by-word.39
11. Al-Jāmi’ fī al-qirā’āt (The Complete Collection of Variant Readings of
the Qur’an). Also known as al-Faṣl bayn al-qirā’a or Kitāb al-qirā’āt wa
al-tanzīl wa al-‘adad, this text is amongst al-Ṭabarī’s completed works.
It records the variant readings of the Qur’an and specifies the names
of the Qur’anic readers in Madinah, Makkah, Kufa, Basra, Syria and
elsewhere. When referring to the readings, al-Ṭabarī states his own
preference for what is correct and provides proofs to support his case.
He also gives his tafsīr for certain verses and establishes their correct
linguistic form (i’rāb).40
12. Laṭīf al-qawl fī aḥkām sharā’i‘ al-Islām (A Light Discussion on the
Muslim Laws). This text contains the sum total of his legal school
and became key for his followers. A completed text, it is valuable for
understanding his madhhab. It is also referred to as just Laṭīf.41
13. Al-Khafīf fī aḥkām sharā’i‘ al-Islām (The Light Work on the Laws of
Islam). Also known as al-Khafīf fī al-fiqh, this is an abridged version of
Kitāb al-latīf.
. Likewise meant to facilitate an understanding of Islamic
law, it contains four hundred folios.42
14. Dhayl al-Mudhayyal (The Historical Information on Religious Scholars
needed in Connection with History). Also known as Tārīkh al-rijāl,
this completed text discusses the history of the Companions of the
Prophet. It has one thousand folios.43
Notes
1. M. Nauman Khan and Ghulam Mohiuddin, ‘Abu Jaffar Tabari,’ available
at: http://www.salaam.co.uk/knowledge/biography/viewentry.php?id=114
(Accessed on 27th July 2015).
2. This book is also known as Tārīkh al-Rusul wa al-Mulūk (History of the
Prophets and Kings). See Al-Ṭabarī, Tārīkh al-Ṭabarī, vol. 1 (Beirut: Dar
Sader, 2008), iii.
3. Ibid.
4. Chase F. Robinson, ‘A Local Historian’s Debt to al-Ṭabarī: The Case of al-
Azdī’s Ta'rīkh al-Mawṣil,’ Journal of the American Oriental Society 126, no. 4
(2006): 521-535.
5. Al-Tabari, The History of al-Tabari, trans. Franz Rosenthal, vol. 1 (Albany:
University of New York Press, 1989), 64.
6. Amul is the capital city of Tabaristan, located in the lowlands of the region and
at a distance of about 20 kilometres from the southern shore of the Caspian Sea.
7. Al-Tabari himself was not really sure whether his birth fell near the end of
224AH, or the beginning of 225AH. See Al-Tabari, The History of Al-Tabari,
10-1; Al-Tabarī,
. Tārīkh Al-Tabarī,
. vol. 1 (Beirut: Dar Sader, 2008), iii-iv.
8. Ibid.
9. Ibid, n.7, 15.
10. Ibid, 6. See also, Al-Tabarī,
. vol. 1, iv.
11. Ibid, n.7, 17.
12. See Al-Tabari, The History of Al-Tabari, vol. 1, 17; Al-Tabarī, . Tārīkh Al-
Tabarī,
. vol. 1, iv.
13. Ibid, 20-1.
14. Ibid.
15. Ibid, 22.
16. Al-Tabarī,
. vol. 1, iv.
17. Hims (or Homs) is in Syria. From Hims, al-Tabarī . quoted ‘Imran Ibn Bakkār
al-Kalā’ī, Abū al-Jamāhir Muhammad . Ibn ‘Abd Rahmān, Sulaymān Ibn
Muhammad
. Ibn Ma’dīkarib al-Ru’aynī, Muhammad . Ibn Hafs
. . al-Wassābī,
..
Sa‘īd Ibn Uthman al-Tanūkhī, Muhammad . Ibn ‘A’wf al-Ta’ī,
. Baqiyyah Ibn
al-Walīd and Sa‘īd Ibn ‘Amr al-Sakūnī.
18. Al-Ramla is located in Palestine. From there, al-Tabarī . referred to Mūsā Ibn
Sahl, ‘Alī Ibn Sahl, ‘Īsā Ibn ‘Uthmān Ibn ‘Īsā, Ismā‘il Ibn Isrā’īl al-Sallāl, al-
Hasan
. Ibn Bilāl, ‘Abd al-Jabbār Ibn Yahyā . and Ayyūb Ibn Ishāq . Ibn Ibrāhīm.
19. Asqalan is a village in Kunduz Province, northern Afghanistan. From there,
al-Tabarī
. cited Muhammad
. Ibn Khalaf, ‘Ubayd Ibn Ādam Ibn Abī Iyās,
‘Isām Ibn Rawwād Ibn al-Jarrāh, . ‘Ubaydallāh Ibn Muhammad . al-Firyābī and
Ibrāhīm Ibn Ya‘qūb al-Jūzajānī. Al-Tabarī, . The History of Al-Tabari, vol. 1,
23-7.
20. Ibid, 23. See also Al-Tabarī,. Tārīkh Al-Tabarī,
. vol. 1, iv.
21. Al-Tabarī,
. The History of Al-Tabari, vol. 1, 27-8. See also Al-Tabarī,
. Tārīkh
Al-Tabarī,
. vol. 1, iv.
22. Ibid, n.22, 64.

23. Ibid, 45-6.
24. Ibid, 46-51.
25. Ibid, 38-43.
26. Ibid, 56-7.
27. Mohammad Hashim Kamali, Freedom, Equality and Justice in Islam (Petaling
Jaya: Ilmiah Publishers, 2002), 69.70.
28. Al-Tabari, The History of Al-Tabari, vol. 1, 31.
29. Al-Tabari, The History of Al-Tabari, vol. 1, 80.
30. Apart from the list of major books given here, the following are also
attributed to al-Tabarī:
. Al-Radd ‘alā al-Hurqūsiyya
. . (A Refutation of the
Hurqusiyya); Al-Radd ‘alā dhī al-asfār (A Refutation of the One with Tomes);
Al-Radd ‘alā Ibn ‘Abd al-Hakam ‘alā Malik (A Refutation of Ibn Abd al-
Hakam’s statements on Malik); Turuq . al-hadīth
. (Methodology of Hadith);
Al-Ramy bi al-nushshāb (On Arrow Shooting); Sarīh. . al-sunna (The Essence of
Orthodox Muslim Belief ); Al-Dalālah ‘alā nubuwwat (Rasulullah) (Evidence
for the Prophethood of the Messenger of God); Ibārat al-ru’yā (On Dream
Interpretation); Al-Mujaz fī al-usūl
. (A Concise Treatment of Legal Principles);
Mukhtasar al-farā’id. (A Short Work on Religious Duties); Al-Mustarshid (The
Seeker of Guidance); Al-Musnad al-mukharraj (The Prophetical Traditions
made Public); Al-Waqf (Endowment). See, Ibid, n.45.
31. Ibid, 81-2. See also Al-Tabarī,
. vol. 1, vi.
32. Ibid, 82-3
33. Ibid, 104-5.
34. Ibid, 91-3.
35. Ibid, 90-2.
36. Ibid, 126-7.
37. Ibid, n.31, 132.
38. Ibid, 128-9.
39. Ibid, 105-6.
40. Ibid, 94-5.
. vol. 1, viii.
. vol. 1, vii.
. vol. 1, vii.
Further Reading
Al-Ṭabarī. Tārīkh Al-Ṭabarī. Beirut: Dar Sader, 2008.
________. The History of Al-Tabari, translated by Franz Rosenthal. Albany:

University of New York Press, 1989.
Kamali, Mohammad Hashim. Freedom, Equality and Justice in Islam. Petaling

Jaya: Ilmiah Publishers, 2002.
Khan, M. Nauman, and Ghulam Mohiuddin. ‘Abu Jaffar Ṭabarī.’ Available at:
http://www.salaam.co.uk/knowledge/biography/viewentry.php?id=114.
Robinson, Chase F. ‘A Local Historian's Debt to al-Ṭabarī: The Case of al-Azdī’s

Ta'rīkh al-Mawṣil.’ Journal of the American Oriental Society 126, no. 4 (2006):
521-535.
13
Abū Naṣr al-Fārābī
(257-339AH/870-950CE)
Tengku Ahmad Hazri
Abū Naṣr al-Fārābī was an early Muslim philosopher who, amongst other
things, is considered both the founder of Islamic political philosophy and a
principal agent in the transmission of Greek thought (particularly the Neo-
Platonic tradition) into Islamic civilisation. For these reasons, Majid Fakhry
has styled him the founder of “Islamic Neo-Platonism.”1 Yet, far from a
passive receptor of the Hellenistic tradition, al-Fārābī evinced remarkable
originality throughout his work, departing from previous philosophical
traditions when he found it necessary to do so. Notably, he defended logic
as a distinct and autonomous science at a time when there was debate about
the respective domains of logic and grammar. He was also the first Muslim
thinker to systematically classify the various branches of knowledge. What
is perhaps most intriguing about his work, however, is his delineation
of the relationship between philosophy and religion. In plain terms, his
examination – even synthesis – of their relationship is really a commentary
on a single belief: that “religion is philosophy by other means.” According to
Osman Bakar, al-Fārābī’s approach to the sciences was in fact a commentary
on his own intellectual and educational background.2
Al-Fārābī (known in the Latin West as Avennasar or Alfarabius) was
born Abū Naṣr Muhammad . ibn Muhammad
. ibn Ṭarkhān ibn Awzalagh
al-Fārābī (257-339AH/870-950CE). Not much is known about his
background. By some accounts, he was ascetically inclined, living a frugal
life and indulging in Sufi mystical practices. He appears to have been born
in Fārāb, Transoxiana (modern-day Turkestan), to a respectable family: his
father came from a family tradition of distinguished military service and
was himself a military officer (qā’id jaysh) who “served in the army of [the]
Samanid rulers who were then governing much of Transoxiana.” Al-Fārābī,
however, chose a different path, opting for a scholarly life.3
In his childhood, al-Fārābī was exposed to a traditional education

typical for children of his time. He received instruction in all the religious
sciences – including exegesis of the Qur’an (tafsīr) and hadith studies – in
addition to elementary arithmetic. He was also knowledgeable in many
languages, including Turkish, Arabic, Persian, Syriac and Greek.4
Later in life, al-Fārābī went to Baghdad, where he would subsequently
spend most of his life. While there, he became a student of many
leading scholars, including the Christian logician, Yūhannā . ibn Ḥaylān
(d.ca.320/932), and the Nestorian philosopher, Abū Bishr Mattā ibn Yūnus
(d.328/940). The latter had earlier helped translate Aristotle into Arabic.
It was with Yūhannā
. that al-Fārābī studied Aristotle’s system of logic up
until the Posterior Analytics. Later, al-Fārābī would also take students of
his own, including the famed Syriac Jacobite Christian philosopher, Yahyā .
ibn ‘Adī (d.363/974).5
After he reached the age of 70 (i.e. in ca. 329/940), al-Fārābī left
Baghdad for Syria, staying first in Aleppo and then in Damascus. In
Aleppo, he gained the patronage of the Hamdanid Shi’a ruler, Sayf al-
Dawla. He then travelled to Egypt, after which he returned to Damascus,
where he died in ca. 339/950. His intellectual legacy, however, would live
on in the considerable body of work he left behind, including:
• Iḥṣā’ al-‘ulūm (Enumeration of the Sciences) – on the classification
of the sciences, including the various branches of knowledge. Al-
Fārābī arranged all the sciences in a hierarchical order and explained
which was needed to study which. He categorised them broadly,
under rational, linguistic, theological and juridical headings.
• Mabādi’ ārā’ ahl al-madīna al-fāḍila (The Principles of the Opinions
of the People of the Virtuous City) – on what may be roughly called
political philosophy, which al-Fārābī divides into metaphysics
(ilāhiyyāt), physics (ṭabī’īyāt) and ethics (irādiyāt, lit. ‘voluntaries’).
• Al-Siyāsa al-madaniyya (Civil Polity, also known as Mabādi’ al-
mawjūdāt, or Principles of Beings) – also on political philosophy.
• Kitāb al-mūsīqā (Book of Music) – on music.
• Kitāb al-ḥurūf (Book of Letters) – on the philosophy of language.
• Kitāb al-alfāẓ al-musta‘mala fi’l-manṭiq (Book of Utterances
Employed in Logic).
• Taḥṣīl al-sa‘āda (The Attainment of Happiness).
• Kitāb al-jadal (The Book of Dialectics).
• Risāla fi’l-‘aql (Letters Concerning the Intellect).
ABŪ NAṢR AL-FĀRĀBĪ 97
• Falsafa
. Arisṭuṭālīs (Philosophy of Aristotle).
• Kitāb al-jam’ bayn ra’yay al-ḥakīmayn Aflāṭūn al-ilāhī wa Arisṭuṭālīs
(Book on the Harmonisation of the Views of the Two Sages, Plato
the Metaphysician and Aristotle) – a reconciliation of Plato and
Aristotle.
This list suggests the breadth of topics al-Fārābī ventured into. Despite
its diversity, however, some common and recurrent themes pervade most
(if not all) of his writings. These will now be discussed.
Religion and Philosophy
In al-Fārābī’s writings, the distinction between philosophy and religion is a
recurrent leitmotif. These words, however, need to be clarified. By ‘religion’,
al-Farabi meant milla, not dīn. Milla here refers to the institutionalised
aspects of religion, as distinct from the exoteric dimensions of revelation,
comprising the rituals, rites and articles of faith represented by dīn. By
‘philosophy’, al-Fārābī (and although he uses the term falsafa)
. has in mind the
idea of ḥikma (wisdom). As such, in many instances he refers to philosophers
as ḥukamā’ (sages).6 In this respect, philosophy goes beyond mere discursive
argumentation to embrace knowledge of esoteric realities, which the Sufis
identify via ma‘rifa (gnosis). Both religion and philosophy are therefore
concerned with the same reality, although their manner of exposition differs.
Both are meant to impart knowledge to humanity so that the latter can
attain happiness and perfection. But, whereas in religion such knowledge
is taken at the level of faith, in philosophy the same truth can be shown
only by demonstration. In simple terms, whereas religion conveys such truth
by means of imitation, symbols and allusion (mithālāt), philosophy conveys
them ‘as they really are’. Although it is difficult for any one man to have both
types of knowledge, there are nevertheless rare individuals who appear from
time to time and in whom such knowledge is vested in both ways. Such
distinctive individuals are philosophers and, in religious terms, prophets
(although admittedly, not all philosophers are prophets).7
But how exactly do they receive such knowledge? From a religious
point of view, the process is explicable through mythopoiesis, i.e. the angel
of revelation, Jibrīl, comes to the prophets and brings the message. In
philosophical terms, however, al-Fārābī explains the process of acquiring
such knowledge by appeal to a comprehensive theory of intellect. For him,
there are several types of intellect, of which only three are relevant here: the
Active Intellect (al-‘aql al-fa‘il), Passive Intellect (al-‘aql al-munfa‘il) and
Acquired Intellect (al-‘aql al-mustafād). Revelation (waḥy) is the “emanation
that proceeds from the Active Intellect to the Passive through the mediation
of the Acquired Intellect.” In other words, the Active Intellect is the
intermediary between the First Cause (i.e. God), in which all knowledge
resides, and the human world. Not all humans, however, have access to their
Active Intellect; to utilise this part of the mind, several preconditions must
be met. In particular, the person’s faculties must be so well-developed that
they can receive information about intelligible objects in one form and then
transmute that information into another form. In the case of the prophets,
when they receive information about the intelligible through the Active
Intellect, the information first passes through their rational-deliberative
faculty and then their representative faculty. Out of the former emerges the
wisdom which explicates truth in philosophic terms, while out of the latter
emerges ‘imitations’ of the said truth – namely, representations that are then
conveyed as religion. Prophets are able to do this because their imaginative
faculty has mimesis (muḥākāh) as one of its functions. Revelation is superior
to intellection because it can be represented by these images. That religion
conveys such truth through representation (i.e. metaphorically) also
explains why different nations have different religious symbols, insofar as
the symbols used are those familiar to the community in question.8
Prophets thus have a dual role: as sage-philosopher who inform
humanity about the literal truth, and as visionary prophets of religion who
call humanity to the same message by means of symbols and persuasion. In
the latter category, prophets also function as lawgivers, rulers and statesmen.
Prophets convey to the people the kind of knowledge necessary for their
well-being, both in this life and the next. Indeed, for al-Fārābī the latter
two realities are closely intertwined – so much so that, in his typology of the
cities humanity can live in, he even explains the possible fate in the afterlife
that the inhabitants of each city can expect.
Ethics, Politics and Society
Al-Fārābī’s political thought brings together a series of his insights from
metaphysics, psychology, epistemology, ethics and his own religion-
philosophy synthesis. This shows how central politics is to his thought
– perhaps even constituting a central core around which other concerns
revolve. If this interpretation is correct, then this centrality can be justified
on the grounds that, according to al-Fārābī, humanity’s perfection can only
be attained in a city, not in any lesser form of social order. Political regimes
can therefore be seen as the external unfolding of humanity’s psycho-
spiritual state, with the formation of different types of cities reflecting the
factors which brought the people in them together – such as the pursuit
ABŪ NAṢR AL-FĀRĀBĪ 99
of wealth (resulting in an oligarchy), honour (timocracy), or freedom

(democracy).9
In the broadest sense, al-Fārābī divides the different types of political
organisation into two groups: Virtuous Cities and Non-Virtuous Cities. A
Virtuous City is “the city … in which people aim through association at
cooperating for the things by which felicity in its real and true sense can be
attained.” The Virtuous City is therefore a city in which man’s true nature
finds its fullest expression. Whether or not such a city is real or merely
hypothetical – a kind of ‘ideal standard’ – is debatable; Ibn Khaldūn
(d.808/1406) observed that it was merely a theoretical postulate, not to
be confused with what is realistically attainable. Still, there is evidence
that this model, however theoretical, does offer rational and philosophical
justification for a prophetic regime.
Falling short of the Virtuous City is the Non-Virtuous City, itself
divisible into four types: the ignorant city (al-madīna al-jāhiliyya), the
wicked city (al-madīna al-fāsiqa), the errant city (al-madīna al-ḍālla),
and the city which has deliberately changed its character (al-madīna al-
mubaddala). All of these types represent a departure from the ideals of the
Virtuous City and the true aims of human nature. Instead, they favour
less noble aspirations.10 For example, the ignorant cities can be further
categorised in accordance with the base objective(s) which led to their
creation: the pursuit of basic necessity results in ‘the city of necessity’
(al-madīna al-ḍarūra); the pursuit of wealth and riches in ‘the city of
meanness’ (al-madīna al-nadhāla); the pursuit of carnal pleasures in ‘the
city of depravity and baseness’ (al-madīna al-khissa wa al-suqūṭ); the
pursuit of honour and glory in ‘the city of honour’ (al-madīna al-karāma);
the pursuit of domination over others in ‘the city of power’ (al-madīna
al-taghallub); and the pursuit of freedom to do everything “without
restraining [their] passions in the least,” in ‘the democratic city’ (al-madīna
al-jamā’iyya). Each of these objectives ultimately leads to a Non-Virtuous
City, inconsistent with the attainment of happiness.
Turning to the other forms of Non-Virtuous City, the wicked city
demonstrates a mismatch between knowledge and deeds – while the former
continues to reflect the knowledge possessed by those who reside in the
Virtuous City, the latter resembles the actions of those who reside in the
ignorant city. Regarding the errant city, inhabitants of this prioritise only
worldly happiness while eschewing all forms of religious and metaphysical
belief as pernicious (although typically its first ruler falsely claims to have
received revelation). Finally, the city which deliberately changed its character
is the one which started out as virtuous but subsequently fell into error.
Conclusion
In conclusion, al-Fārābī was one of classical Islam’s leading philosophers and
arguably the founder of Islamic Neo-Platonism. But, he never acted as a mere
passive receptor of Greek thought. Rather, he consistently adapted and re-
formed Greek philosophy in accordance with his own needs – in particular, a
desire to bridge the gap between religion and philosophy, between faith and
reason. Perhaps because of his originality in this regard, he continues to be
read and studied today, by both Muslims and non-Muslims alike.
Notes
1. Majid Fakhry, Al-Farabi, Founder of Islamic Neoplatonism: His Life, Works and
Influence (Oxford: Oneworld, 2002).
2. Osman Bakar, Classification of Knowledge in Islam: A Study in Islamic
Philosophies of Science (Kuala Lumpur: ISTAC, 2006)
3. Ibid.
4. Ibid.
5. Ibid.
6. Ibid, 81
7. Ibid.
8. Ibid.
9. Abu Nasr al-Farabi, On the Perfect State (Mabadi’ Ara’ Ahl al-Madinah al-Fadilah),
trans. Richard Walzer (Chicago: Great Books of the Islamic World, 1985).
10. Ibid.
Further Reading
Al-Farabi, Abu Nasr. On the Perfect State (Mabadi’ Ara’ Ahl al-Madinah al-Fadilah).
Translated by Richard Walzer. Chicago: Great Books of the Islamic World, 1985.
__________________. Philosophy of Plato and Aristotle (Revised Ed.). Translated

by Muhsin Mahdi. New York: Cornell University Press, 1962.
__________________. The Political Writings: Selected Aphorisms and Other Texts.

Translated by Charles Butterworth. New York: Cornell University Press, 2001.
Bakar, Osman. Classification of Knowledge in Islam: A Study in Islamic Philosophies

of Science. Kuala Lumpur: ISTAC, 2006.
Black, Deborah. ‘Al-Farabi.’ In History of Islamic Philosophy, edited by Seyyed

Hossein Nasr and Oliver Leaman, 178-195. London: Routledge, 1996.
Fakhry, Majid. A History of Islamic Philosophy. New York: Columbia University

Press, 2004.
Reisman, David C. ‘Al-Farabi and the Philosophical Curriculum.’ In The

Cambridge Companion to Arabic Philosophy, edited by Peter Adamson and
Richard Taylor, 52-71. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005.
14
Abū al-H. asan Al-Mas‛ūdī
(ca.282-345AH/896-956CE)
Karim D. Crow
Abū al-Ḥasan ‛Alī b. al-Ḥusayn al-Mas‛ūdī (ca.282-345AH/896-956CE)

was a descendent of the Prophet’s Companion, ‛Abd Allāh ibn Mas‛ūd.
A native of Baghdad, al-Mas‘ūdī became a merchant and missionary,
roaming the world and amassing vast historical, geographic and religious
knowledge. Although only four of his extremely valuable writings still
survive, they display an extremely impressive global understanding of
human cultural and religious knowledge. Al-Mas‘ūdī tried to objectively
describe the civilisations he encountered, whether past or present, relating
them to Islam’s pluralistic vision of human experience and the unitary
nature of its universal worldview.1
Historical writing has always been an important part of the Islamic
tradition. With the rise of historians like Muḥammad ibn Isḥāq
(d.150/767), Ibn Wadīh al-Ya‛qūbī (d.284/897), Ibn Jarīr al-Ṭabarī
(d.310/923), and the great eighth/fifteenth-century Andalusian scholar,
‛Abd al-Raḥmān ibn Khaldūn (d.808/1406), Muslim historiography began
to offer a comprehensive account of human existence within the universal
perspective of the Qur‘an. By reflecting upon human history, with its
diverse ethnicities, languages and religions, these writers hoped to yield
moral lessons and guiding admonitions for their attentive readers. ‘History’
became a literary means of instruction as well as an accurate portrayal
of the forces shaping human experience. ‛Alī b. al-Ḥusayn al-Mas‛ūdī
helped perfect this ‘educational’ function of history, combining it with
wide intellectual sophistication to set a standard for future historians. His
hard, lonely work collecting and packaging historical data about preceding
civilisations and religions better enabled the Muslim intelligentsia, both of
his period and after, understand the world they inhabited.
Journeys and Method

From at least 303/915 onwards, travel occupied most of al-Mas‛ūdī’s life,
exemplifying the Prophet’s counsel: “Seek knowledge, even unto China.” In
a poem describing his extensive journeys to remote corners of the earth, al-
Mas‘ūdī said of himself: “Time did not cease to fling [me] cross far horizons
– beyond the reach of caravans.” His extensive voyages took him to Persia
and Central Asia (including Armenia, Azerbaijan and the Caspian Sea), as
well as to Arabia, Syria, Egypt and North Africa. He voyaged several times
to East Africa and travelled to the Indus Valley and other parts of (especially
western) India. There may also be good reason to suppose he visited Sri
Lanka, the Malay Peninsula, the islands of modern-day Indonesia and even
mainland China. Certainly, in the early third/ninth century he would have
found Muslim communities in all these places. He knew about Paris and
Korea, and discussed the Khazars, the Bulgars, and the Rus (Norsemen of
the Volga). He was particularly well-informed about the Rus, describing
both their trade with the Byzantines and their competence as sailors.
An indefatigable observer of people, al-Mas‛ūdī collected accounts from
ancient records and inscriptions, dynastic and administrative archives,
temples and ruins. He spoke to local religious communities and scholars,
as well as to traders, sailors, and military men, whether Muslim or non-
Muslim. Al-Mas‛ūdī received important information about China from
the historian-traveller, Abū Zayd Ḥasan al-Sīrafī, whom he met on the
coast of the Persian Gulf. In Syria, al-Mas‛ūdī met the renowned Leo of
Tripoli (also known as Ghulām Zurāfa), the early-tenth-century Byzantine
renegade-turned-Muslim admiral whose fleet threatened Constantinople
in 291/907. From Leo, al-Mas‛ūdī received up-to-date information about
Byzantium; A. Shboul has observed that al-Mas‘ūdī is the only known
classical Muslim author to deal systematically with Byzantine history after
the rise of Islam.
Al-Mas‘ūdī’s study of ancient nations and peoples was assisted by his
competency in Himyaritic (S. Arabian), Coptic, Aramaic, Syriac, Greek
(both ancient and Byzantine), Latin, Pahlavi, Soghdian, Sanskrit, and
possibly Malayalam. He was also accomplished in all the known sciences
(including astrology, medicine, theurgic magic, alchemy, mathematics,
geography, philosophy and cosmology) and possessed expertise in the
manifold intellectual and religious disciplines of Islamic civilisation,
including adab (belles letters), genealogy, hadith, the Prophetic sīra, legal
theory, and theology. He manifested a particular interest in comparative
religion and intra-Muslim religious/ideological debate.2
ABŪ AL-ḤASAN AL-MAS‛ŪDĪ 103
Writings
Al-Mas‛ūdī’s magnum opus, his Akhbār al-zamān (The Annals of Time),
reportedly ran to thirty volumes, of which only one now survives. Embracing
an encyclopaedic vision of human civilisation, this text stretched from the
moment of creation to the ancient antediluvian past to the civilisations of
Egypt, India, China, Africa, the Biblical lands, pre-Islamic Arabia, Persia,
Greece, Rome, Europe, and Byzantium. It also treated the history of the
Prophet Muḥammad and his successors, taking Islamic history up to the
Shi’ite rebellions against the ‛Abbāsid caliphs.3
After completing his Akhbār al-zamān, al-Mas‘ūdī produced an abridged
version, called Kitāb al-awsaṭ (Book of the Middle). Essentially a detailed
chronology of historical events up until al-Mas‘ūdī’s own time, it took the
important step of trying to separate real events from myth.4 Neither it nor
the Akhbār al-zamān, however, impacted upon contemporary scholarship,
perhaps because of their daunting lengths. Al-Mas‘ūdī therefore followed
them up with another, more accessible summary, his well-known work,
Murūj al-dhahab wa ma ‘ādin al-jawhar (Meadows of Gold and Mines of
Gems).5 This ‘world history’ secured his reputation. In its introduction,
he lists more than eighty historical texts as his source material and stresses
the importance of his travels, to “learn the peculiarities of various nations
and parts of the world.” After the Murūj al-dhahab, however, al-Mas‘ūdī
continued to refine his materials with an eye to educational utility and
moral edification. This process culminated in his extremely concise, single
volume text, al-Tanbīh wa-l-‘ishrāf (Admonition and Revision), a kind of
executive summary of his original Akhbār al-zamān.6
Al-Mas‛ūdī’s approach to history was highly original, utilising social,
economic, religious, and cultural perspectives when formulating an
understanding of historical events. His detailed geographic expertise,
coupled with an awareness of ethnology and environmental factors, led to
some quite insightful observations. For example, he attributed the linguistic
diversity and political fragmentation of the Caucasus to its mountainous
terrain. The political power of Byzantium, on the other hand, he accredited
to the strategic location of its capital, Constantinople. He offered details
about Khālid b. al-Walīd’s first/seventh-century campaigns in southern Iraq
to explain the recession of the Gulf of Basra in his own time. Via these
examples and others, he displayed a deep understanding of historical change,
tracing current conditions to events that unfolded over generations. Later
thinkers, including the scientist al-Birūnī (d.440/1048) and Ibn Khaldūn,
took lessons from this approach, replicating it in their own work.
Al-Mas‛ūdī was also notable for the precision and detail of his citations.
He would often provide the full name of an author and of the title of
his source, discussing variants and alternative interpretations of terms and
concepts, and always recording dates with great accuracy. His historical
works also cross-referenced each other, drawing readers to where they
could find more comprehensive treatments of specific events or issues.7
Religion and Civilisation

Al-Mas‛ūdī’s highly inquisitive scholarship displayed a continual
fascination with religion. Many passages in both the Murūj al-dhahab and
al-Tanbīh treat philosophical and/or religious teachings and inter-religious
controversies, exhibiting marked objectivity and a dispassionate fair-
mindedness. Clearly al-Mas‘ūdī debated with, not only various Muslim
doctrinal groups, but also with the adherents of rival faiths, eagerly
probing their beliefs. His work show signs of contact with Zoroastrians,
Manichaeans, Mazdakites, Qarmaṭis, Samaritans, Christians, Karaite
and Rabbinic Jews, as well as Hindu Brahmins. Likewise, although it is
known that al-Mas‛ūdī studied Shāfi‘ī jurisprudence and was influenced
by leading Mu‛tazilite masters like al-Jubbā‘ī (d.303/915), al-Nawbakhtī
(d.311/924) and Abū al-Qāsim al-Balkhī al-Ka‛bī (d.319/931), a number
of his writings point to an adherence to Imāmī Shi’ism.8
Al-Mas‛ūdī was always ready to set aside religious dogma in the light of
reason and experience. For example, when he struggled to fit the nations he
encountered into the biblical scheme of the ‘seven nations’ descended from
Noah, he drew on Persian, Indian and Chinese traditions (none of which
supported a universal Flood) to question traditional biblical cosmology.
Al-Mas‛ūdī’s questioning of conventional wisdom was prompted by his
adherence to scientific cosmology, wedded to empirical geography and
supported by his experiential anthropology and ethnography, all nurtured
by his wide acquaintance with the tremendous variety in human languages
and culture.
Al-Mas‘ūdī would often use instructive anecdotes and striking incidents
to impart moral wisdom and capture the spirit of an age, dynasty, or
people. In particular, al-Mas‛ūdī attempted to sum up the contributions
of great civilisations in terms of a particular ‘national genius’: Indians
possessed wisdom and virtue; Greeks (including Romans, Byzantines, and
Europeans) wisdom and philosophy; the Persians and Chinese superior
statecraft, as idealised in their administrative orders and commercial
astuteness; the Turks warfare; and the Chaldaeans (i.e. old Syriac speakers
of Syria and Iraq) agricultural expertise and refined urban development.

Indeed, for al-Mas‛ūdī, the Chaldaeans harboured the ancient cradle of
civilisation.
Above all, al-Mas‘ūdī valued technical modes of verifying and
corroborating historical testimony, preferring empirical inquiry (baḥth)
over appeals to the ‘obvious’. He favoured inductive reasoning when
checking reports, using the natural sciences and his own experience to
confirm, discredit or suspend judgment about received accounts, seeking
to always understand and rationalise unusual or mythic phenomena. This
critical-rational spirit, however, existed in tension with his love of telling a
good story and facility for repeating fabulous legends.
While not unique to his era, al-Mas‘ūdī’s impressive breadth of learning
and depth of cultural interest and inter-civilisational vision stands out.
He consistently advanced a global perspective, striving to make his
cosmopolitan historical project an attempt at preserving the memory of
human culture. Al-Mas‘ūdī inhabited a rich intellectual environment in
which Islam’s revealed disciplines were blended with Persian literature,
Hellenistic science, and Indian mathematics. This rich heritage helps
explain al-Mas‛ūdī’s achievements. This environment enabled the Islamic
society of his day to manifest a knowledge-seeking perceptive and analytical
attitude – and in marked contrast to Muslim societies of our time. Until
Muslims learn to re-energise their civilisational legacy, thinkers like al-
Mas‛ūdī will remain remote and incomprehensible. Indeed, al-Mas‘ūdī
would not have been surprised by this; as he wrote in his introduction to
Murūj al-dhahab:
We had intercourse with kings of different usages and politics,
and by comparing them we have come to the result that illustrious
actions have faded in this world, and its luminaries are extinguished.
There is a great deal of wealth but little intellect. You will find the
self-sufficient and ignorant, the illiterate and defective, contented
with opinions and blind to what is near them.9
Notes
1. Ahmad S. Maqbul, ‘Mas‛ūdī, Abū ul-Ḥasan,’ in Dictionary of Scientific
Biography, ed. Charles C. Gillispie (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons,
1981), 171-2.
2. See Ahmad A. M. Shboul, Al-Mas‛udi and His World (London: Ithaca Press,
1979).
3. ‘Alī ibn al-Ḥusayn al-Mas‘ūdī, Akhbār al-zamān wa man abādahu l-ḥidthān,
ed. ‛Abdallāh al-Sāwī (Beirut: Dār al-Andalus, 1980). This published edition
comprises the only surviving volume of the text, covering the dynastic history
of the ancient Egyptian pharaohs. Persistent rumours that a complete copy is
held by a Berber family in Shanqīṭ remain unsubstantiated.
4. The claim that a manuscript volume from al-Awsaṭ exists in Oxford
University’s Bodleian Library has not yet been confirmed.
5. ‘Alī ibn al-Ḥusayn al-Mas‘ūdī, Murūj al-dhahab wa ma‘ādin al-jawhar, 4
vols, ed. Muḥammad Muḥyī l-Dīn ‘Abd al-Ḥamīd (Beirut: Dār al-Ma‘rifah,
n.d.). See also The Meadows of Gold: The Abbasids, ed. and trans. Paul Lunde
and Caroline Stone (London: Kegan Paul, 1989).
6. ‘Alī ibn al-Ḥusayn al-Mas‘ūdī, al-Tanbīh wa-l-‘ishrāf, ed. ‛Abdallāh I. al-Sāwī
(Baghdad: al-Muthannā, n.d.).
7. Tarif Khalidi, Islamic Historiography: The Histories of Mas‛udi (Albany, NY:
SUNY Press, 1975).
8. Maqbul, ‘Mas‛ūdī, Abū ul-Ḥasan,’ 171-2.
9. ‘Alī ibn al-Ḥusayn al-Mas‘ūdī, El Masúdi's Historical Encyclopædia, entitled,
‘Meadows of Gold and Mines of Gems,’ vol. 1, trans. A. Sprenger (London:
Oriental Translation Fund, 1841), 4-5.
Further Reading
Al-Mas‘ūdī, ‘Alī ibn al-Ḥusayn. Akhbār al-zamān wa man abādahu l-ḥidthān.
Edited by ‛Abdallāh al-Sāwī. Beirut: Dār al-Andalus, 1980.
_________________________. al-Tanbīh wa-l-‘ishrāf. Edited by ‛Abdallāh I. al-

Sāwī. Baghdad: al-Muthannā, n.d.
_________________________. El Masúdi's Historical Encyclopædia, entitled,

‘Meadows of Gold and Mines of Gems,’ 1 vol. Translated by A. Sprenger. London:
Oriental Translation Fund, 1841.
_________________________. Ithbāt al-waṣiyya li-l-imām ‛Alī b. Abī Ṭālib.

Najaf: Ḥaydariyyah, 1955.
_________________________. The Meadows of Gold: The Abbasids. Edited and

translated by Paul Lunde and Caroline Stone. London: Kegan Paul, 1989.
_________________________. Murūj al-dhahab wa ma‘ādin al-jawhar. Edited

by Muḥammad Muḥyī l-Dīn ‘Abd al-Ḥamīd. 4 vols. Beirut: Dār al-Ma‘rifah,
n.d.
Horne, Charles F., ed. The Sacred Books and Early Literature of the East: with
Historical Surveys of the Chief Writings of Each Nation, Vol. 6: Medieval Arabia.
New York: Parke, Austin and Lipscomb, 1917.
Khalidi, Tarif. Islamic Historiography: The Histories of Mas‛udi. Albany, NY: SUNY
Press, 1975.
Maqbul, Ahmad S. ‘Mas‛ūdī, Abū ul-Ḥasan.’ In Dictionary of Scientific Biography.

Edited by Charles C. Gillispie, 171-2. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons,
1981.
Shboul, Ahmad A. M. Al-Mas‛udi and His World. London: Ithaca Press, 1979.
15
Abū ‛Alī Ibn Sīnā
(369-429AH/980-1037CE)
Elmira Akhmetova
Ibn Sīnā was one the great minds of medieval Islam, whose multifaceted
studies encompassed such diverse scholarly fields as exegesis, law, logic,
metaphysics, mathematics, astronomy, and medicine. He played a
considerable role in the development of not only science, but also of both
Islamic and Western philosophy. George Sarton, author of The History of
Science, described Ibn Sīnā as “one of the greatest thinkers and medical
scholars in history,” and called him, “the most famous scientist of Islam
and one of the most famous of all races, places, and times.” For the British
philosopher, Antony Flew, Ibn Sīnā was “one of the greatest thinkers ever
to write in Arabic,” while William Osler called him “the author of the most
famous medical textbook ever written.” Osler also added that, as a medical
practitioner, Ibn Sīnā was “the prototype of the successful physician who
was at the same time statesman, teacher, philosopher and literary man.”
Life and Career

Abū ʿAlī al-Ḥusayn ibn ʿAbd Allāh ibn Sīnā, commonly known as just
Ibn Sīnā (Latinised name, Avicenna), was born in ca.369AH/980CE in
Afshana, a village near Bukhara, in modern-day Uzbekistan (historical
Khurasan). His father, ʿAbd Allāh, was a local Samanid official from Balkh,
while his mother, Setareh, was from Bukhara.
While he was still young, Ibn Sīnā’s family moved to Bukhara, the capital
and intellectual centre of the Samanid dynasty. Thanks to his father's position
as governor, Ibn Sīnā was able to access an excellent education with the best
teachers. According to his autobiography, however, he first began learning
arithmetic with an Indian greengrocer, while his medical training began
ABŪ ‛ALĪ IBN SĪNĀ 109
with a wandering scholar who gained a livelihood from curing the sick and
teaching the young. Later, he studied jurisprudence (fiqh) under the famous
Ḥanafī scholar, Ismāʿīl ibn al-Ḥusayn al-Bukhārī al-Zāhid (d.402/1012).
By the age of eighteen, Ibn Sīnā had mastered most of the sciences and
entered the service of the Samanid court as physician to the Emir, Nūḥ ibn
Mansūr. (r.365-387/976–997). This position gave him access to the royal
library, as well as to the renowned scholars of the court, and it was during this
period that Ibn Sīnā began writing his own works.1 Soon after the death of
his father, Ibn Sīnā was promoted to an administrative post. This new role,
however, proved short-lived: soon after Ibn Sīnā received it, the Samanid
dynasty was destroyed by a Ghaznavid and Qarakhanid invasion. Moreover,
Maḥmūd of Ghazni (d.421/1030), the prominent ruler of the Ghaznavid
state, burning the famed Samanid library of Bukhara. Under these conditions,
Ibn Sīnā proceeded west, to Urgench (modern-day Uzbekistan), where the
local vizier was generally regarded as a friend to scholars. In line with this
reputation, the vizier gave Ibn Sīnā a small monthly stipend. Subsequently,
Ibn Sīnā wandered from place to place, through the districts of Nishapur
and Marv, to the borders of Khurasan, seeking an opening for his talents.
Eventually, he settled in Rayy, in the vicinity of modern-day Tehran, where
he entered the service of the Buwayhid Sultans. Initially acting as a physician,
during the reign of Sultan Majd al-Dawla (d.420/1029) – a nominal ruler
under the regency of his mother, Sayyida Shirin (d.419/1028) – Ibn Sīnā
became vizier. About thirty of Ibn Sīnā’s shorter works were composed in
Rayy while he worked in this role.
The constant feuds between Sayyida Shirin and her second son, Shams al-
Dawla, eventually compelled Ibn Sīnā to leave Rayy. After a brief sojourn in
Qazvin (Northwest Iran), Ibn Sīnā headed south, to Hamadan, where Shams
al-Dawla had recently established himself as a Buwayhid Emir. In 405/1015,
Ibn Sīnā became Shams al-Dawla’s vizier, continuing in this role until the
latter’s death in 412/1021. At that point, Ibn Sīnā moved on to Isfahan,
where he served as vizier to the Kakuyid Emir, ‘Alā’ al-Dawla (d.432/1041),
and for whom he wrote an important Persian summa of philosophy, entitled
Danishnama-yi ‘Ala’i (Book of Knowledge for ‘Alā’ [al-Dawla]).
It was in Isfahan that Ibn Sīnā became widely recognised as a great
philosopher and physician. All-in-all, he led a very stirring life, travelling
from one place to another and yet still finding time to teach, think and
write. A very gifted individual, he busied himself as a physician and
administrator, while also demonstrating himself to be an outstanding
philosopher, capable of advancing many innovative ideas.2 In total, his
works numbered almost four hundred and fifty volumes, of which only
around two hundred and forty have survived. Of these, one hundred and
fifty concentrate on philosophy and forty on medicine. Ibn Sīnā died in
Hamadan in Ramaḍān 429/June 1037 of colic. He was aged fifty-eight.
His tomb at Hamadan is still famous today.
The ‘Prince of Physicians’

Along with al-‘Ibādī (Johannitius in Latin, d.259/873), al-Rāzī (Rhazes,
d.312/925), al-Zahrāwī (Abulcasis, d.403/1013) and Ibn al-Nafīs
(d.687/1288), Ibn Sīnā was one of medieval Islam’s greatest physicians.
As mentioned, of his surviving works, forty are concerned with medical
subjects, including anatomy and pharmacology. The most important of
these medical texts was his gigantic medical encyclopaedia, entitled al-
Qanūn fī al-ṭibb (The Canon of Medicine), which was translated into
Latin in ca.545/1150 and subsequently became Europe’s standard medical
textbook between the fifteenth and seventeenth centuries.3 Due to its
influence, Europeans ranked Ibn Sīnā alongside Hippocrates and Galen as
an acknowledged authority on medicine – a princeps medicorum or ‘Prince
of Physicians’.
In outline, Ibn Sīnā’s medical encyclopaedia consists of five books,
each subdivided into subjects, subsidiary subjects, summaries, and
sections. The first book, called al-Kulliyyāt (The Universals), discusses the
scientific background to medicine and anatomy, including physiology,
symptomatology, and the principles of therapy. The second book gives an
account of the therapeutic properties of those substances used in medicine,
while the third is devoted to pathology and specific/localised ailments. The
fourth book then elaborates on general diseases which affect the whole
body (such as fever) and the final volume is on pharmacology.
In this encyclopaedia, Ibn Sīnā derived his system of medicine
from the work of prominent Graeco-Roman physician, surgeon and
philosopher, Aelius Galenus (better known as ‘Galen of Pergamon’,
d.200CE). In places, he also benefited from the methodologies of earlier
Muslim physicians, like al-Rāzī and al-Majūsī (Haly Abbas in Latin,
died ca.379/990). All-in-all, Ibn Sīnā presented a systematised and
comprehensive overview of the medical sciences of his time. Yet, and
as noticed by the Greco-Arabist Jon McGinnis, when it came to the
philosophical underpinnings of medicine, Ibn Sīnā would always defer
to Aristotle, rather than another physician.4
Ibn Sīnā’s encyclopaedia met the needs of medieval Europe’s new brand
of scholastic medicine in three respects. Firstly, with its immense wealth of
information, it provided European physicians with a synopsis of virtually

all the medical knowledge amassed during the preceding 1,500 years.
Secondly, with its systematic delineation of subjects within a well-ordered
theoretical framework, it not only facilitated the use of the text for teaching
purposes, but also satisfied the scholastic desire for logical classification.
Lastly, Ibn Sīnā linked the medicine of Galen with Aristotle’s natural
philosophy and theory of science, both of which dominated European
intellectual life from the thirteenth century onwards.
For Ibn Sīnā, medicine was a mixed science, with both practical and
theoretical components. At the opening of his encyclopaedia, he identified
medicine as “the science from which one comes to recognise the states of
the body on the part of health and the loss thereof in order to preserve the
health as something realised as well as recovering it when lost5.” For him,
living in a healthy climate, positive thinking, and getting proper amounts
of sleep accompanied by exercise and a well-balanced diet were the most
important ways of preserving one’s health.
Ibn Sīnā’s Philosophy

Ibn Sīnā wrote extensively on logic, metaphysics and ethics. For the most
part, his thought in these areas was influenced by the ancient Greek
philosophers, Aristotle, Plato, and Ptolemy (d.168CE). He also drew,
however, on earlier and contemporary Muslim scientist–philosophers,
including al-Kindī (d.259/873), al-Fārābī (d.339/950) and al-Bīrūnī
(Alberonius, d.440/1048). Overall, therefore, Ibn Sīnā’s philosophical
investigations combined Aristotelian and Platonic perspectives with
Muslim theology (kalām), developing a sophisticated paradigm that
divided all knowledge into either the theoretical (mathematics, physics,
chemistry, astronomy and metaphysics) or the practical (philosophy,
ethics, economics and politics). Over time, Ibn Sīnā came to be regarded
as the leading authority in Islamic philosophy. His synthesis of ancient
Greek thought and revealed theology even found its way into the work of
medieval Christian philosophers, significantly influencing the development
of Western thought. Via the Latin translations of his works, Ibn Sīnā’s
metaphysics and philosophy of knowledge impacted on those thinkers
in the Latin West who were engaged in studying natural philosophy and
metaphysics – people like William of Auvergne (d.1249CE), who served
as the Bishop of Paris for twenty-one years, and the German Dominican
friar and Catholic bishop, Albertus Magnus (d.1280CE). Thomas Aquinas
(d.1274CE) was likewise influenced by Ibn Sīnā.
Overall, Ibn Sīnā’s philosophy deals with the origins of the cosmos,
the nature of the soul, and the role of God in human affairs. His greatest
contribution to the development of both Muslim and Western thought lies
in his attempt to reconcile Hellenic philosophy with the Islamic doctrine
of God as the Creator of all things. Fundamentally, Ibn Sīnā’s conception
of reality and reason revolved around the existence of God; for him, God
was the principle of all existence, a pure form of intellect from which all
created things emerged via a Neo-Platonic system of emanation (a scheme
Ibn Sīnā modified from the earlier systematised work of al-Fārābī). For Ibn
Sīnā, however, there was a distinction between this pure form of intellect, or
‘essence’ (māhiya), and physical existence (wujūd); he argued that physical
existence must be due to an agent or cause capable of imparting it to essence
via emanation. To do this, the agent/cause must be an existing thing, which
later co-exists with its effect. For him, this was God.
Ibn Sīnā also wrote a number of treatises on Islamic theology. These
included texts on various scientific and philosophical interpretations of the
Qur’an (showing how Qur’anic cosmology corresponds to philosophy) and
books on prophecy. In the latter regard, and in common with other Muslim
philosophers, Ibn Sīnā viewed the prophets as ‘inspired philosophers’. In
his Kitāb al-shifā’ (The Book of Healing), for example, Ibn Sīnā recognised
that philosophers could reach the Universal Single Truth by means of their
rational efforts, yet only prophecy (as inspiration from God) could provide
the law for the good society in the ideal state. Prophecy and Sharia were
therefore indispensable for the preservation of humanity, with the divinely
revealed law also containing truth about God, His universe, the angels, the
Hereafter, reward and punishment, and Providence.6 In this way, Ibn Sīnā
clearly established the significance of the Prophet Muḥammad as both a
law-giver and the first ruler of the ideal (i.e. early Muslim) state.7
During the 410s/1020s, Ibn Sīnā completed his major work on the
philosophy of science – the aforementioned Kitāb al-shifā’. He divided
this work into four parts: logic, natural sciences, mathematical sciences
(the famous classical quadrivium of arithmetic, geometry, astronomy and
music), and metaphysics (denoting that which lies beyond – or underlies
– natural physical phenomena). In the section on al-burhān (logical
demonstration), Ibn Sīnā assessed earlier scientific methods of inquiry
and proof. In this context, he reviewed Aristotle’s Posterior Analytics and
chose to significantly diverge from it on several issues. In this manner, Ibn
Sīnā developed a new method of scientific experimentation informed by
Muslim rational thought, as developed by the major rational theologians –
namely, the Ash‘arites and Mu‘tazilites.
Legacy to Civilisation
Ibn Sīnā’s works were amongst the first Arabic texts to be translated into
Latin and, with their handy compendium format, became immensely
popular in Europe. Perhaps as a result of this, and as early as the fourteenth
century CE, Dante Alighieri (d.1321CE), in his Divine Comedy, portrayed
Ibn Sīnā as a ‘favoured’ heretic; rather than being sentenced to Hell, Ibn
Sīnā was put in Limbo alongside other virtuous non-Christian thinkers,
like Virgil, Ibn Rushd, Homer, Horace, Ovid, Lucan, Socrates, and Plato.
This underlies how Ibn Sīnā had become recognised, both in the East and
the West, as a major force in intellectual history.
Certainly, Ibn Sīnā’s Graeco-Arabic philosophy, dealing with concerns
central to all three Abrahamic religions, helped facilitate and prepare
Latin Europe for the reintroduction of the Aristotelian scientific tradition.
Consequently, Ibn Sīnā’s thought played an important role in the intellectual
reinvigoration of Europe8. Ibn Sīnā, along with other brilliant Islamic
scientists and philosophers, like al-Khwārizmī (Algoritmi, d.ca.236/850),
al-Fārābī, al-Kindī, ‘Umar Khayyām (d.526/1131), Ibn Rushd (Averroes,
d.595/1198) and a host of others, established the foundations of modern
science, art and philosophy, thereby enabling Europe to emerge from the
Dark Ages into the Renaissance.
During the medieval period, to understand Ibn Sīnā was to understand
philosophy. While writing his own contribution to this discipline,
the leading Ash‘arite theologian and mystic, Abū Ḥāmid al-Ghazālī
(d.505/1111), admitted that Ibn Sīnā was his major source of inspiration
– and despite the fact that he disagreed with many aspects of Ibn Sīnā’s
natural philosophy and cosmology. Similarly, Ibn Sīnā’s philosophical
system exerted considerable influence over the thought of the prominent
mystic, al-Suhrawardī (d.ca.587/1191), founder of the influential
Illuminationist (ishrāqiyya) brand of Sufism.9
Ultimately, Ibn Sīnā was not only able to address issues of concern to
earlier philosophers, both in the Hellenic and Islamic traditions, but also
to fundamentally change the direction of philosophy in both the Islamic
east and Judaeo-Christian west. Even today, Ibn Sīnā’s work on logic,
natural philosophy and metaphysics is taught across the Muslim world,
in places like Iran, Turkey, and Indonesia. Many contemporary Catholic
Christian philosophers also continue to encounter his ideas through the
works of Aquinas. In Iran, Ibn Sīnā is considered a national icon and often
identified as one of the greatest Iranian thinkers of all time. Further afield,
an impressive monument to the life and work of this ‘doctor of doctors’
stands outside the Bukhara museum in Uzbekistan. There is also a crater

on the Moon named ‘Avicenna’, in addition to a plant genus. Amongst
the many institutions named in his honour are Bu-Alī Sīnā University in
Hamadan (Iran), the Ibn Sīnā Tajik State Medical University in Dushanbe
(capital of the Republic of Tajikistan), the Ibn Sīnā Academy of Medieval
Medicine and Sciences (Aligarh, India), the Avicenna Medical College
(Lahore, Pakistan), the Ibn Sīnā Balkh Medical School (in his native
province of Balkh, Afghanistan), and the Ibn Sīnā Faculty of Medicine at
Ankara University (Turkey).
Notes
1. I. Zakaria, The Political Aspects of Avicenna’s General Theory of Cosmology and
the Human Soul (Kuala Lumpur: Penerbit Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia,
2002), 15.
2. Jules Janssens, Ibn Sīnā and his Influence on the Arabic and Latin World
(Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing Limited, 2006), 1.
3. Ihsan Ali and Ahmet Guclu, ‘Ibn Sina: An Exemplary Scientist,’ Onislam.
Net. Available at: http://www.onislam.net/english/health-and-science/
science/463382-ibn-sina-an-exemplary-scientist.html.
4. Jon McGinnis, Avicenna (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010), 227.
5. Ibid, 230.
6. Erwin Rosenthal, Political Thought in Medieval Islam: An Introductory Outline
(Westport, CT: Greenwood Press Publishers, 1985), 147.
7. Ibid, 143.
8. McGinnis, Avicenna, 244.
9. Ibid, 245–50 and Janssens, Ibn Sīnā, 36–49.
Further Reading
Ali, Ihsan and Ahmet Guclu. ‘Ibn Sina: An Exemplary Scientist.’ Onislam.Net.
Available at: http://www.onislam.net/english/health-and-science/science/463382-
ibn-sina-an-exemplary-scientist.html.
Janssens, Jules. Ibn Sīnā and His Influence on the Arabic and Latin World. Vermont:
Ashgate Publishing, 2006.
McGinnis, Jon. Avicenna. New York: Oxford University Press, 2010.
Rahman, Fazlur. Prophecy in Islam: Philosophy and Orthodoxy. London: George

Allen & Unwin Ltd, 1958.
Rosenthal, Erwin I. J. Political Thought in Medieval Islam: An Introductory Outline.

Westport, CT: Greenwood Press Publishers, 1985.
Siraisi, Nancy. Medicine and the Italian Universities, 1250–1600. Leiden: Brill,
2001.
Ullman, Manfred. Islamic Medicine. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press,

1978.
Zakaria, I. The Political Aspects of Avicenna’s General Theory of Cosmology and the
Human Soul. Kuala Lumpur: Penerbit Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia, 2002.
16
Abū al-Rayhān al-Bīrūnī
(362-440AH/973-1048CE)
Daud Abdul-Fattah Batchelor
The great polymath, Abū al-Rayhān Muḥammad ibn Aḥmad al-Bīrūnī

(362-440AH/973-1048CE), generally known as just al-Bīrūnī, was one
of the first scholars to demonstrate a modern scientific outlook. He lived
a full life of seventy-five years and undertook ground-breaking research
into almost all the natural science fields. George Sarton described him
as “one of the greatest scientists in Islam, and, all considered, one of the
greatest of all time.”1 Al-Bīrūnī was an early exponent of the experimental
scientific method2 and also a pioneer of comparative sociology.3 Arthur
Pope gave him his highest accolade when he wrote: “Alberuni must rank
high in any list of the world’s great scholars. No history of mathematics,
astronomy, geography, anthropology, or history of religion is complete
without acknowledgment of his immense contribution. One of the
outstanding minds of all time, distinguished to a remarkable degree by
the essential qualities which have made possible both science and social
studies, Alberuni is the demonstration of the universality and timelessness
of a great mind. One could compile a long series of quotations from
Alberuni written a thousand years ago that anticipate supposedly modern
intellectual attitudes and methods.”4
His Life
Al-Bīrūnī was born in 362/973 in Kath, now called Beruniy. A Persian
word, bīrūnī means ‘from the outer district’ and reflects Kath’s remote
location on the southern shores of the Aral Sea, in what is now Uzbekistan.
In al-Bīrūnī’s time, Kath was Persia’s easternmost province and part of the
Samanid Empire, ruled from Bukhara.
ABŪ AL-RAYHĀN AL-BĪRŪNĪ 117
Al-Bīrūnī came from a modest family of Tajik origin and spent most
of his life in Central Asia and India. He learned the scholarly languages of
Arabic and Persian, in addition to the regional language of Khwarizmian.
His studies began at an early age, under the famous astronomer-
mathematician, Abū Nasr . Mansūr
. (d.427/1036), a prince of the ruling
Banū Irāq. At the age of seventeen, al-Bīrūnī demonstrated his aptitude
by using his observations of the maximum altitude of the sun to calculate
the latitude of Kath. He also began collecting similar coordinates for other
localities and knew from his additional observations that the earth was
round. By the age of twenty-two, he exhibited considerable skill when he
published his Cartography, a work on map projections.5
Al-Bīrūnī’s early peaceful life ended abruptly with the overthrow of
the Banū Irāq in around 385/995. Fleeing to Rayy (near modern-day
Tehran), al-Bīrūnī sought shelter there from between ca.385/995 and
387/997.6 Living in poverty and without a patron, he met the astronomer,
al-Khujandī (d.390/1000), who was engaged in trying to observe the
meridian transits of the sun during the solstices.7 By Jumāda al-awwal
387/May 997, al-Bīrūnī returned to Kath, where he observed an eclipse
of the moon. The following year, he settled in the northern Persian town
of Jurjan (near the Caspian Sea) where he worked for the local ruler,
Shams al-Ma’ālī Qābūs (d.402/1012). Here, in around 390/1000, he
wrote his extensive work, Al-āthār al-bāqiyya ‘an al-qurūn al-khāliyya (The
Remaining Signs of Past Centuries),8 which he dedicated to Qābūs. This
text was a comparative study of different calendrical systems, together with
historical, astronomical, ethnological and religious information about the
people who created them.
By 394/1004, al-Bīrūnī returned to his homeland, where he became
part of the Khwarizm court, first under ‘Alī ibn Ma’mum (r.387-398/997-
1008) and then under the latter’s brother, Abu’l ‘Abbās (r.398-407/1008-
1017). Both proved to be generous patrons. Abu’l ‘Abbās, for example,
sponsored al-Bīrūnī’s construction of an astronomical instrument to
observe solar meridian transits. However, the famous warrior-Sultan,
Maḥmūd Subüktegīn (r.392-421/1002-1030), ruling from Ghazni in
eastern Afghanistan, attacked and annexed Kath in 407/1017. Al-Bīrūnī
accompanied the victorious army back to Ghazni, probably under duress.
There he conducted astronomical observations and joined Maḥmūd
in his military excursions into India during the period 407-421/1017-
1030. By 412/1022, Maḥmūd controlled the northern parts of India,
enabling al-Bīrūnī to conduct extensive observations to determine the
latitudes of towns in the Punjab and Kashmiri border regions. To distance
himself from Maḥmūd, however, al-Bīrūnī soon removed himself to

Lahore, where he wrote “the world’s first book on comparative religion,
focusing on Hinduism and Islam.” He then moved to Nandana, near
modern Islamabad, where he devised a new, highly accurate technique for
measuring the earth’s circumference using spherical trigonometry and the
law of sines.9
On Sultan Maḥmūd’s death in 421/1030, the latter’s eldest son,
Mas‘ūd (r.421-431/1030-1040), took power and began treating al-Bīrūnī
much more kindly than his father had. As a result, al-Bīrūnī returned to
Ghazni, where he finally died in ca.442/1050-1. Throughout his life, al-
Bīrūnī consistently demonstrated himself to be “an indefatigable seeker
of knowledge with no love for sensuous pursuits.”10 Certainly, it seems he
never married, instead being a man fully devoted to science.11 Although
he lived during a period of great political instability, he still managed to
conduct innovative research. He was a devout Muslim who displayed no
prejudice towards different religious sects or races.12
His Works
Al-Bīrūnī wrote mostly in Arabic, producing more than one hundred
and forty-six titles in a multitude of disciplines, including: astronomy
(35), astrolabes (4), astrology (23), chronology (5), time measurement
(2), geography (9), geodesy and mapping theory (10), mathematics
(15), mechanics (2), medicine and pharmacology (2), meteorology (1),
mineralogy and gems (2), history (2), India (2), religion and philosophy
(3), literary works (16), and magic (2). Currently, however, only twenty-
two of these works are known to still exist, of which only thirteen have
been published.13 The most important of al-Bīrūnī’s ideas as expressed in
these texts will now be discussed.
His Scientific Outlook Contrasted with Philosophical Approaches

As a pioneer of the scientific method, al-Bīrūnī was clearly attracted to the
study of observable phenomena, both in nature and man. He therefore
applied himself to, not only qualitatively describing phenomena, but also
to quantifying his observations, wherever possible using mathematics.14
His was therefore a surprisingly modern outlook, characteristic of the
dispassionate researcher, and as evidenced by his following insight:
[In] an absolute sense, science is good in itself, apart from its

knowledge [content]; its lure is everlasting and unbroken…[The
servant of science] should praise the assiduous whenever their efforts
[arise from] delight [in science itself ] rather than from [hope of
achieving] victory in argument.15
In his al-Āthār, al-Bīrūnī likewise wrote, “We must clear our minds…
from all causes that blind people to the truth – old custom, party spirit,
personal rivalry or passion, the desire for influence.”16 In light of these
statements, William Durant has described al-Bīrūnī as “an objective
scholar, assiduous in research, critical in scrutiny of traditions and texts
(including the Gospels), precise and conscientious in statement, frequently
admitting his ignorance, and promising to pursue his inquiries till the
truth should emerge.”17
Zia Shah has also contributed an assessment of al-Bīrūnī’s great
diligence in achieving accuracy: “Biruni’s scientific method was similar to
the modern scientific method in many ways, particularly his emphasis on
repeated experimentation. Biruni was concerned with how to conceptualise
and prevent both systematic and random errors, such as ‘errors caused
by the use of small instruments and errors made by human observers.’
He argued that if instruments produce random errors because of their
imperfections or idiosyncratic qualities, then multiple observations must
be taken, analyzed qualitatively, and on this basis, arrive at a ‘common-
sense single value for the constant sought’, whether an arithmetic mean or
a ‘reliable estimate’.”18 In addition, J. O’Connor and E. Robertson note
that al-Bīrūnī “treats errors…scientifically and when he does chose some
[observations] to be more reliable than others, he also gives the discarded
observations. He was very conscious of rounding errors in calculations,
and always attempted to observe quantities which required minimal
manipulation to produce answers.”19
Al-Bīrūnī also held an admirable approach regarding the development
of ideas via discussion with other scholars. For example, he had a long-
standing collaboration with his teacher, Abū Nasr . Mansūr,
. with each
asking the other to undertake specific pieces of work to help support their
own studies. He also corresponded in a challenging manner with Abū Sa‘īd
al-Sijzī (d.ca.410/1020) about the sine theorem20 and exchanged letters
with another towering intellect of the age, Ibn Sīnā (d.429/1037). This last
debate is first mentioned in al-Bīrūnī’s al-Āthār, but only detailed in his later
book, al-As’ila wal-ajwiba (Questions and Answers). Al-Bīrūnī apparently
asked Ibn Sīnā eighteen questions, ten of them criticisms of Aristotle’s On
the Heavens.21 After receiving a reply, al-Bīrūnī was dissatisfied with some
of Ibn Sīnā’s answers and wrote back, commenting on them.22 Ziauddin
Sardar nicely compares the two different approaches used by Ibn Sīnā and al-
Bīrūnī as they emerge in these letters: “Unlike his contemporary Avicenna’s
[deductive] scientific method where ‘general and universal questions came
first and led to experimental work’, Bīrūnī developed [inductive] scientific
methods where ‘universals came out of practical experimental work’ and
‘theories are formulated after discoveries.’”23 Moreover, American scholar,
Ahmad Dallal, has reasoned that in his debate with Ibn Sīnā, al-Bīrūnī
“made the first real distinction between a scientist and a philosopher,
referring to Avicenna as a philosopher and considering himself to be a
mathematical scientist.”24
Al-Bīrūnī criticised Aristotle’s followers for their blind adherence to
Aristotelian physics and natural philosophy: “The trouble with most people
is their extravagance in respect of Aristotle’s opinions; they believe that there
is no possibility of mistakes in his views, though they know that he was
only theorizing to the best of his capacity.” In contrast to the philosophers,
al-Bīrūnī only accepted mathematical or empirical evidence as reliable.25
The Scientific Discoveries of al-Bīrūnī

Astronomy, Geodesy and Geography
Al-Bīrūnī made many important contributions to the fields of astronomy,
geodesy and geography. Most notably, by age thirty he had successfully
calculated the earth’s radius to be 6339.6 km, a degree of accuracy not
exceeded in the West until 500 year later.26
Al-Bīrūnī’s al-Qānūn al-Mas‘ūdī (The Mas‘udic Canon), a vast
astronomical encyclopaedia almost 1,500 pages in length, has been
described as the “greatest work on astronomy from the period between
late antiquity and the modern era.”27 In it, al-Bīrūnī summarised all
contemporary astronomical and related knowledge. He also included
a table containing the coordinates of six hundred different localities.
George Saliba has described this text as having “the general outline of a
zij (astronomical handbook) but [while being] much more detailed and
analytical in its approach to observations and numerical tables.” He
commiserated, however, that “it is unfortunate that this text has not yet
been translated and studied by modern scholars, for it not only promises
to be of great importance to historians of Islamic history but also may
change our accepted ideas about the general history of mathematics.”28
The authors of Muslim Heritage wrote concerning the contents of the

al-Qānūn that: “In it he [al-Bīrūnī] determines the motion of the solar
apogee, corrects Ptolemy’s findings, and is able to state for the first time
that the motion is not identical to that of the precession, but comes very
close to it. In this book, too, al-Bīrūnī employs mathematical techniques
unknown to his predecessors that involve [an] analysis of instantaneous
motion and acceleration, described in terminology that can best be
understood if we assume that he had ‘mathematical functions’ in mind.”29
Frederick Starr has praised al-Bīrūnī for his “constant urge to quantify
whatever he observed [and for] his enquiring mind.” Indeed, Starr has
even argued that:
In his Codex, Biruni also hypothesized about the existence of [the
Americas]. Biruni began by presenting the research on the earth’s
circumference that he had carried out at Nandana. He then set about
fixing all known geographical locations onto his new, more accurate
map of the globe…When Biruni transposed these data onto his map
of the earth he noticed at once that the entire breadth of Eurasia…
spanned only about two fifths of the globe. This left three fifths of
the Earth’s surface unaccounted for.30
Based on logic, al-Bīrūnī rejected the possibility that the missing area
was all ocean and asked, “why would the forces that had given rise to land
on two fifths of the earth’s belt not also have had a similar effect on the
other three fifths?” He concluded that, within the vast expanse of ocean
between Europe and Asia, unknown land masses must be present. As a
result, Starr has stated that:
If ‘discovery’ includes the unreflective processes of Norse seafaring,
then the prize must go to the Vikings. Yet Biruni is at least [as]
deserving of the title of North America’s discoverer as any
Norseman. Moreover, the intellectual process by which he reached
his conclusions is no less stunning than the conclusions themselves.
His tools were not the hit-or-miss methods of Venetian seamen
or Norse sailors but an adroit combination of carefully controlled
observation, meticulously assembled quantitative data and rigorous
logic. Only after a further half-millennium did anyone else apply such
rigorous analysis to global exploration…Biruni devised completely
new methods and technologies to generate his voluminous and
precise data and processed it with the latest tools of mathematics,
trigonometry and spherical geometry as well as the austere methods
of Aristotelian logic. He was careful to present his conclusions in
the form of hypotheses, on the understanding that other researchers

would want to test and refine his findings. This did not happen for
another five centuries.31
Starr believed that al-Bīrūnī’s role was all the more impressive given that
“he achieved what he did...unconstrained by religious or secular dogmas,
folklore or anecdotes,” and that “he carried out his breathtaking intellectual
exploration while living far from the sea in a landlocked region…which, in
most respects put Columbus, Cabot and the Vikings in the shade.”32
Al-Bīrūnī also invented a number of astronomical instruments, writing
treatises on the astrolabe, the planisphere, and the armillary sphere.33 In
his astrolabe treatise, al-Bīrūnī provided a comprehensive treatment of the
history and construction principles behind various types of contemporary
astrolabes.34 Notably, he referred to the astrolabe of Sizjī which had been
constructed on the basis that, rather than the heavens moving, it was the
earth that moved. This presaged an important development amongst
Muslim astronomers: the elucidation of a heliocentric concept of the solar
system. This would only be finally confirmed six hundred years later by
Galileo, following the invention of the telescope.
Al-Bīrūnī also wrote the first treatise on the sextant35 and invented
both an early hodometer36 and the first mechanical lunisolar calendar. The
latter device employed a gear train and eight gear wheels37 and has been
characterised as an early example of a fixed-wired knowledge processing
machine.38 In another pioneering effort – one which would not be matched
in Europe until the Renaissance – al-Bīrūnī constructed a globe 5.8m in
height, showing the earth’s terrestrial features.39 He also discovered that
the distance between the earth and the Sun was larger than Ptolemy had
estimated.40
Shah has highlighted several other geodetic accomplishments made
by al-Bīrūnī:41 “In mathematical geography, Biruni, around 1025, was
the first to describe a polar equi-azimuthal equidistant projection of the
celestial sphere.42 He was also regarded as the most skilled in…measuring
the distance between cities, which he did for many cities in the Middle
East and western Indian subcontinent. He often combined astronomical
readings and mathematical equation, in order to develop methods of pin-
pointing locations by recording degrees of latitude and longitude. He also
developed similar techniques when it came to measuring the heights of
mountains, depths of valleys, and expanse of the horizon.”43 Al-Bīrūnī’s
ability to accurately determine the distances between cities was of great
political and economic value.44
Al-Bīrūnī also conducted research in support of the Muslim

obligation to pray towards Makkah: his Taḥdid nihāyāt al-amākin li-
taṣḥīḥ masāfāt al-masākin (Determination of the Coordinates of Places
for the Correction of Distances between Cities) was written to enable
determination of the qibla (direction of prayer). He described how one
should first know with some precision the longitude and latitude of
Makkah. These values could then be applied to a spherical triangle, after
which the angle from the local meridian to the required direction of
Makkah could be determined.45
Al-Bīrūnī also developed an important new method for astronomical
observation called the ‘three points observation’. This method was still
being used six centuries later by both Muslim and non-Muslim astronomers
(including Copernicus, d.1543) to calculate the eccentricity of the Sun’s
orbit and the annual motion of the apogee. The sixteenth-century Muslim
polymath, Taqī al-Dīn al-Asadī (d.993/1585), described the three points
as being arranged so that “two of them [are] in opposition [to] the elliptic
and the third in any desired place.”46
Geology and Mineralogy
In his book on coordinates, al-Bīrūnī also pioneered the science of
palaeontology: he proposed that the presence of fossil shells similar to
those found in modern seas proved that present-day mountains and dry
lands had once been beneath the sea. From such discoveries, he realised
that the earth is constantly evolving and, in essence, a living entity. This
was in agreement with his Islamic belief that nothing is eternal.47
At the age of eighty, al-Bīrūnī published another book, entitled
Kitāb al-jamāhir fī ma’rifat al-jawāhir (Ethical Reflections and Moral
Philosophy).48 Although primarily concerned with ethical principles,
this work also included the most extensive mineralogy text of its time,
in which al-Bīrūnī made many advances in knowledge. For example,
and in common with al-Kindī (d.256/870) and Ibn Sīnā, he rejected the
transmutation of base metals into gold, as proposed by the alchemists of
his time.49 Through numerous experiments, al-Bīrūnī also laid down the
principle that the specific gravity of an object corresponds to the volume
of water it displaces per unit weight. Using this concept, he was able to
take very accurate measurements of the densities of various elements,
including gold, mercury, lead, silver, bronze, copper, brass, iron and tin.
He also determined the specific gravity of eighteen precious stones.50 His
measurements correspond almost exactly to what we have today.51
Anthropology, History and Comparative Religion

Al-Bīrūnī not only wrote about the natural sciences, but also delved
into the realm of the human sciences – into the disciplines now known
as anthropology, history and comparative religion. By doing so, and by
applying his scientific method to everything he studied, he contributed
valuable new insights into these fields of study – to the extent that he has
been called “the first anthropologist.”52
For example, al-Bīrūnī used Maḥmūd of Ghazni’s military expeditions
as an opportunity to explore Indian Hindu-Buddhist civilisation. This
not only included its scientific knowledge, but also its language, religion,
philosophy, geography, culture, and customs. His examination of these
issues would eventually become the substance of his most famous work,
Kitāb fī taḥqīq mā li-‘l-Hind (Book of Inquiry into India),53 published
around 421/1030.
As Shah has highlighted, until the tenth century ‘history’ most often
meant political and military history. However, in his Taḥqīq, al-Bīrūnī
wrote primarily about India’s cultural, social and religious history.54 He even
learnt Sanskrit so that he could translate several Sanskrit texts into Arabic.
Moreover, at the very outset al-Bīrūnī sought to assess the authenticity of
the historical accounts he used, sharply distinguishing between hearsay
and eyewitness reports.55 In this manner, he demonstrated a very modern
historical methodology – although overall Shah has characterised al-
Bīrūnī’s study of India as the beginning of anthropology:56
Like modern anthropologists, he engaged in extensive participant
observation with a given group of people, learnt their language
and studied their primary texts, and presented his findings with
objectivity and neutrality using cross-cultural comparisons…
Al-Bīrūnī used his interdisciplinary interests from an anthropological

perspective before anthropology existed as a discipline…Through
this modern practice, al-Bīrūnī used the concepts of cross cultural
comparison, inter-cultural dialogue and phenomenological
observation which have become commonplace within anthropology
today.57 Within al-Hind, al-Bīrūnī does not pass judgment on the
Indian culture or the Hindu faith, but rather speaks through them.
Not only did al-Bīrūnī conduct what has been recognized as the first
ethnographic fieldwork, he was also the first Muslim to study the
Hindu tradition, developing an interest in religious coexistence…
Indeed, it is evident from al-Bīrūnī’s writings that he believed there is “a

common human element that makes all cultures distant relatives.”58
Al-Bīrūnī was also a pioneer in the field of comparative religion. He
endeavoured to attain a comprehensive understanding of foreign societies,
to identify “a social pattern of similarities across cultural and religious
lines.”59 Arthur Jeffrey believed that “it is rare until modern times to find
so fair and unprejudiced a statement of the views of other religions, so
earnest an attempt to study them in the best sources, and such care to
find a method which for this branch of study would be both rigorous and
just.”60 Jeffrey believed that “in this field of the sciences of the spirit, al-
Bīrūnī’s contribution to learning was possibly greater than in the field of
the more exact senses.” For his part, al-Bīrūnī stated, in his introduction to
the Taḥqīq, that his intention was to facilitate dialogue between Islam and
the Indian religions:
Abu Sahl at-Tiflisi incited me to write down what I know about the
Hindus as a help to those who want to discuss religious questions
with them, and a repertory of information to those who want to
associate with them. We think now that what we have related in this
book will be sufficient for anyone who wants to converse with the
Hindus, and to discuss with them questions of religion, science or
literature, on the very basis of their own civilization.61
Montgomery Watt believed that, on the basis of al-Bīrūnī’s insistence
on applying “a strict scientific method,” it could be claimed that he went
beyond even the comparative religion of the late nineteenth century.
Watt further elaborated that al-Bīrūnī “selects facts in such a way that he
makes a strong case for holding that there is a certain unity in the religious
experience of the people he considers.” Certainly, in his Taḥqīq al-Bīrūnī
argued that Hinduism was a monotheistic faith like Islam, justifying this
assertion by quoting the Hindu texts. He argued that the worship of idols
was a characteristic of the common people, with which the educated had
nothing to do:62
The educated among the Hindus abhor anthromorphisms of this
kind, but the crowd and the members of the single sects use them
most extensively…The [true] Hindus believe [that] God is one
eternal, without beginning and end, acting by free-will, almighty,
all-wise, living, giving life, ruling, preserving; one who in his
sovereignty is unique, beyond all likeness and unlikeness, and that
he does not resemble anything nor does anything resemble him.63
Conclusion
Undoubtedly a highly gifted scholar, al-Bīrūnī exemplifies the great advances
possible in human knowledge and understanding, whether with regard to
the natural or human worlds. Al-Bīrūnī’s work is also proof that Islam
(and religion in general) can inspire great advances in scientific knowledge.
Although many of his extant books have not yet been (fully) translated,
those which have demonstrate the huge debt humanity owes him.
Notes
1. G. Sarton, Introduction to the History of Science, vol. 1 (Baltimore: Williams
and Wilkins, 1931), 707.
2. J. J. O’Connor and E. F. Robertson, ‘Abu Arrayhan Muhammad Ibn
Ahmad al-Biruni,’ MacTutor History of Mathematics Archive, University of
St Andrews. Available at: http://www-history.mcs.st-and.ac.uk/Biographies/
Al-Biruni.html (Accessed on: 3rd August 2015).
3. Ziauddin Sardar, ‘Science in Islamic philosophy,’ s.v. Routledge Encyclopedia
of Philosophy. Available at: https://www.rep.routledge.com/articles/science-
in-islamic-philosophy/v-1/. (Accessed on: 9th March 2016).
4. Arthur Upham Pope, ‘Al-Biruni as a Thinker,’ in Al-Biruni Commemoration
Volume A.H.362-A.H.1362 (Calcutta: Iran Society, 1951), 281.
5. O’Connor and Robertson, ‘Al-Biruni.’
6. Ibid.
7. Ibid.
8. Muhammad ibn Ahmad al-Biruni, The Chronology of Ancient Nations: An
English version of the Arabic text of the Athār-ul-bāqiya of Albīrūnī, or “Vestiges
of the Past,” trans. E. Sachau (London: W.H. Allen and Co., 1879).
9. S. Frederick Starr, ‘So, Who Did Discover America?’ History Today 63, Is. 12
(2013). Available at: http://www.historytoday.com/s-frederick-starr/so-who-
did-discover-america. (Accessed on: 5th August 2015).
10. Hakim Mohammed Said and Ansar Zahid Khan, Al-Biruni: His Times, Life
and Works (Karachi: Hamdard Academy, 1981).
11. Zia Shah, ‘Al Biruni: One of the Greatest Pioneers of Science,’ The Muslim
Times, 1st January 2012. Available at: http://www.themuslimtimes.
org/2012/01/science-and-technology/al-biruni-the-great-pioneer-of-science.
(Accessed on: 5th August 2015).
13. E. S. Kennedy, ‘Biruni, Abu Rayhan al-,’ in Dictionary of Scientific Biography,
vol. 2, ed. Charles Coulston Gillispie (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons,
1970), 152.
14. Ibid.
15. Starr, ‘Who Did Discover America?’
16. W. Durant, The Age of Faith (New York: Simon and Shuster, 1950), 243.
17. Ibid, 243.
18. Shah, ‘Al-Biruni.’

20. Ibid.
21. Said and Khan, Al-Biruni, 105-6. Some of these questions included:
• Aristotle has no sound reason for his supposition that the heavens are
neither heavy nor light.
• Aristotle’s method of seeking support for his theories in the opinions
of former thinkers (in respect of the idea that the universe has no
beginning) is improper.
• Aristotle’s reasons for rejecting atomic theory are unsound and his own
theory of the infinite divisibility of matter is no less open to objection.
• Aristotle is not justified in denying the possibility of the existence of
other universes besides our own.
• Aristotle is not justified in saying that the Heavens move from the east,
as the east is the right side. Right and left are merely relative terms.
22. Rafik Berjak and Muzaffar Iqbal, ‘Ibn Sina-Al-Biruni Correspondence,’ Islam
& Science, June 2003.
23. Sardar, ‘Science in Islamic Philosophy.’
24. Ahmad Dallal, ‘The Interplay of Science and Theology in the Fourtheenth-
century Kalam,’ (paper presented at the Sawyer Seminar - From Medieval to
Modern in the Islamic World, 2001).
25. See Abdus Salam, H. R. Dalafi, and Mohamed Hassan, Renaissance of Sciences
in Islamic Countries (Singapore: River Edge, 1994), 96.
26. O’Connor and Robertson, ‘Al-Biruni.’ NASA records the earth’s equatorial
radius as 6378.0km and its polar radius as 6356.8km.
27. Starr, ‘Who Discovered America?’
28. G. Saliba, ‘Al-Biruni,’ in Dictionary of Middle Ages, vol. 2, ed. Joseph Strayer
(New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1982), 249. See also ‘Al-Biruni,’ Muslim
Heritage. Available at: http://www.muslimheritage.com/article/al-biruni.
(Accessed on: 9th March 2016).
29. ‘Al-Biruni,’ Muslim Heritage.
31. Ibid.
32. Ibid.
33. Durant, Age of Faith, 244.
34. Saliba, ‘Al-Biruni,’ 250; ‘Al-Biruni,’ Muslim Heritage.
35. Jean Claude Pecker. Understanding the Heavens: Thirty Centuries of
Astronomical Ideas from Ancient Thinking to Modern Cosmology (New York:
Springer, 2001), 311. Britain has also claimed the invention of the sextant.
This, however, was the navigator’s sextant, discovered 700 years after al-
Khujandi. See J. Gregory Dill, ‘Who Really Invented the Sextant?’ Ocean
Navigator: Marine Navigation and Ocean Voyaging. Available at: http://www.
oceannavigator.com/January-February-2003/Who-really-invented-the-
sextant/. (Accessed on: 7th August 2015).
36. D. De S. Price, ‘A History of Calculating Machines,’ IEEE Micro 4, no. 1
(1984): 22-52.
37. Donald Routledge Hill, ‘Al-Biruni’s Mechanical Calendar,’ Annals of Science
42 (1985): 139-163.
38. Tuncer Oren, ‘Advances in Computer and Information Sciences: From

Abacus to Holonic Agents,’ Turk J Elec Engin 9, no. 1 (2001): 63-70. See also
Shah, ‘Al-Biruni.’
40. Saliba, ‘Al-Biruni,’ 249.
42. David A. King, ‘Astronomy and Islamic Society: Qibla, Gnomics and
Timekeeping,’ s.v. Encyclopedia of the History of Arabic Science.
43. W. Scheppler, Al-Biruni: Master Astronomer and Influential Muslim Scholar of
the Eleventh Century (New York: The Rosen Publishing Group, 2006).
46. Sevim Tekeli, ‘Taqi al-Din,’ s.v. Encyclopaedia of the History of Science,
Technology and Medicine in Non-Western Cultures; Shah, ‘Al-Biruni.’
47. Durant, Age of Faith, 243-4.
48. Translated by Hakim Mohammad Said.
49. Michael E. Marmura, ‘An Introduction to Islamic Cosmological Doctrines,
Conceptions of Nature and Methods Used for Its Study by the Ikhwan Al-
Safa, Biruni, and Ibn Sina, by Seyyed Hossein Nasr,’ Speculum 40, no. 4
(1965): 744-6.
51. Scheppler, Al-Biruni, 42-3.
52. Mohammed Yahia, ‘Remembering al-Biruni – The First Anthropologist,’ House
of Wisdom. Available at: http://blogs.nature.com/houseofwisdom/2012/09/
remembering-al-biruni-the-first-anthropologist.html. (Accessed on: 9th
March 2016).
53. Saliba, ‘Al-Biruni,’ 248.
57. Kemal Ataman, Re-Reading al-Biruni’s India: a Case for Intercultural
Understanding: Islam and Christian-Muslim Relations (London: Routledge,
2005).
58. Ibid.
60. William Montgomery Watt, ‘Bīrūnī and the study of non-Islamic Religions,’
Fravahr. Available at: http://www.fravahr.org/spip.php?article31. (Accessed
on: 12th August 2015).
61. Ibid.
62. Ibid.
63. Cited in Ibid.
Further Reading
Al-Biruni, Muhammad ibn Ahmad. The Chronology of Ancient Nations: An English
version of the Arabic text of the Athār-ul-bāqiya of Albīrūnī, or “Vestiges of the
Past,” translated by E. Sachau. London: W.H. Allen and Co., 1879.
Ataman, Kemal. Re-Reading al-Biruni’s India: a Case for Intercultural Understanding:

Islam and Christian-Muslim Relations. London: Routledge, 2005.
Berjak, Rafik, and Muzaffar Iqbal. ‘Ibn Sina-Al-Biruni Correspondence.’ Islam &
Science, June 2003.
Dallal, Ahmad. ‘The Interplay of Science and Theology in the Fourtheenth-

century Kalam.’ Paper presented at the Sawyer Seminar - From Medieval to
Modern in the Islamic World, 2001.
Dill, J. Gregory. ‘Who Really Invented the Sextant?’ Ocean Navigator: Marine
Navigation and Ocean Voyaging. Available at: http://www.oceannavigator.com/
January-February-2003/Who-really-invented-the-sextant/.
Durant, W. The Age of Faith. New York: Simon and Shuster, 1950.
Hill, Donald Routledge. ‘Al-Biruni’s Mechanical Calendar.’ Annals of Science 42

(1985): 139-163.
Kennedy, E. S. ‘Biruni, Abu Rayhan al-.’ In Dictionary of Scientific Biography, vol.

2, edited by Charles Coulston Gillispie, 152. New York: Charles Scribner’s
Sons, 1970.
Marmura, Michael E. ‘An Introduction to Islamic Cosmological Doctrines,

Conceptions of Nature and Methods Used for Its Study by the Ikhwan Al-Safa,
Biruni, and Ibn Sina, by Seyyed Hossein Nasr.’ Speculum 40, no. 4 (1965):
744-6.
O’Connor, J. J., and E. F. Robertson. ‘Abu Arrayhan Muhammad Ibn Ahmad

al-Biruni.’ MacTutor History of Mathematics Archive, University of St Andrews.
Available at: http://www-history.mcs.st-and.ac.uk/Biographies/Al-Biruni.
html.
Oren, Tuncer. ‘Advances in Computer and Information Sciences: From Abacus to

Holonic Agents.’ Turk J Elec Engin 9, no. 1 (2001): 63-70.
Pecker, Jean Claude. Understanding the Heavens: Thirty Centuries of Astronomical

Ideas from Ancient Thinking to Modern Cosmology. New York: Springer, 2001.
Pope, Arthur Upham. ‘Al-Biruni as a Thinker.’ In Al-Biruni Commemoration

Volume A.H.362-A.H.1362. Calcutta: Iran Society, 1951.
Price, D. De S. ‘A History of Calculating Machines.’ IEEE Micro 4, no. 1 (1984):

22-52.
Said, Hakim Mohammed, and Ansar Zahid Khan. Al-Biruni: His Times, Life and
Works. Karachi: Hamdard Academy, 1981.
Salam, Abdus, H. R. Dalafi, and Mohamed Hassan. Renaissance of Sciences in

Islamic Countries. Singapore: River Edge, 1994.
Saliba, G. ‘Al-Biruni.’ In Dictionary of Middle Ages, vol. 2, edited by Joseph Strayer,

249-50. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1982.
Sarton, G. Introduction to the History of Science, vol. 1. Baltimore: Williams and

Wilkins, 1931.
Scheppler, W. Al-Biruni: Master Astronomer and Influential Muslim Scholar of the

Eleventh Century. New York: The Rosen Publishing Group, 2006.
Shah, Zia. ‘Al Biruni: One of the Greatest Pioneers of Science.’ The Muslim Times,
1st January 2012. Available at: http://www.themuslimtimes.org/2012/01/
science-and-technology/al-biruni-the-great-pioneer-of-science.
Starr, S. Frederick. ‘So, Who Did Discover America?’ History Today 63, Is. 12
(2013). Available at: http://www.historytoday.com/s-frederick-starr/so-who-
did-discover-america.
Watt, William Montgomery. ‘Bīrūnī and the study of non-Islamic Religions.’

Fravahr. Available at: http://www.fravahr.org/spip.php?article31.
Yahia, Mohammed. ‘Remembering al-Biruni – The First Anthropologist.’ House

of Wisdom. Available at: http://blogs.nature.com/houseofwisdom/2012/09/
remembering-al-biruni-the-first-anthropologist.html.
17
Abū Ḥasan al-Māwardī
(364-450AH/974-1058CE)
Wan Naim Wan Mansor
Thus in response to the person to whom my obedience is due in this

affair, I have made known to him the madhhabs of the fuqaha' so
that he sees both that his rights are respected and that his duties are
fulfilled and that he honours the dictates of justice in their execution
and aspires to equity in establishing his claims and in the fulfilment
of others’ claims.
Al-Māwardī, referring to the caliph
in the preface of his al-Ahkām al-ṣulṭāniyya
Abū al-Ḥasan ‘Alī b. Muḥammad b. Ḥabīb al-Māwardī was a distinguished

fifth/eleventh-century jurist who operated in Baghdad, then capital of
the ‘Abbāsid caliphate. His famous political handbook, al-Aḥkām al-
sulṭāniyya wal-wilāyāt al-dīniyya (The Ordinance of Government and
Religious Positions), continues to be a standard reference document in
Sunni Islamic political thought. Al-Māwardī was an Islamic jurist and
judge by profession, trained in the Shāfi‘ī School, but while also being
well-versed in the other major madhāhib (schools of thought). He held
the prestigious position of qāḍī al-quḍāt (head judge) in both Ustawa and
Baghdad, and received from the caliph al-Qā’im Bi-Amr Allāh (r.1031-
74) the unprecedented honorific title of aqḍa al-quḍāt (best of judges).
As a scholar, al-Māwardī has been variously described as a philosopher,
a political theorist, and a social analyst. He was also a skilful mediator,
diplomat and, most importantly, political advisor to two ‘Abbāsid caliphs:
Qādir Bi-llāh (r.991-1031) and the aforementioned al-Qā’im.1 This article
will briefly attempt to describe his life and thought.
Life and Career

Al-Māwardī was born in 364/974, in Basra, then considered a centre of
Islamic education and scholarship.2 His family was involved in the selling
and manufacturing of rosewater (which translates as ‘al-Māwardī’).3 In
Basra, al-Māwardī first studied Islamic jurisprudence and literature under
Abū al-Qāsim al-Saimarī (d.386/996),4 before later continuing his studies
in Baghdad under the supervision of Shaykh ‘Abd al-Ḥamīd and Shaykh
‘Abd Allāh al-Baqī.5 This early education in Islamic jurisprudence and
literature prepared al-Māwardī for his later judicial profession.
Al-Māwardī lived during a period of decline in ‘Abbāsid political
authority, when challenges to caliphal power were emerging from several
quarters. In particular, the aspiring Būyid Emirs (333-447/945-1055) had
taken control of large swathes of ‘Abbāsid territory, including Baghdad.
In practice, therefore, the ‘Abbāsid caliphs were merely Būyid puppets.6
During the reign of the caliph al-Qādir, however, the ‘Abbāsids sought to
regain some of their lost prestige, drawing a “line between a subservient
caliph and an assertive one.”7 This reassertion of ‘Abbāsid authority was
founded on an allegiance with Sultan Maḥmūd of Ghaznī (r.388-392/998-
1002) who, in 388/998, conquered Khurasan and put an end to Sāmānid
rule there.8 This success, coupled with civil unrest in Būyid territory
(including widespread raiding, robbery and Sunni-Shi’a strife), allowed
the ‘Abbāsids to pressure the Būyids into accepting a rapprochement: by
paying official ‘homage’ to the caliphs of Baghdad, the Būyids could gain
legitimacy and reassert their authority over their territories.9 It was in this
specific and complex context that al-Māwardī’s work (including the well-
known Al-Ahkām handbook) emerged.10
A tipping point in al-Māwardī’s career came in 429/1037, when his
Shāfi‘ī-based legal text, Kitāb al-iqnā‘ (The Book of Conviction), was
selected as best amongst four texts commissioned by caliph al-Qā’im
from scholars representing all four of the madhāhib.11 Al-Māwardī’s al-
Iqnā‘ was highly praised and, in all probability, contributed towards his
receiving the honourific title, aqḍa al-quḍāt.12 Another opinion, however,
attributes the conferment of this title to al-Māwardī’s decision to abstain
from approving Būyid Sultan Jalāl al-Daula’s wish to use the title Mālik
al-Mulūk (or Shahinshah, ‘King of Kings’). Although others from amongst
al-Māwardī’s contemporaries, such as the qāḍīs Abū al-Ṭayyib al-Ṭabarī
(d.450/1058) and al-Saimarī, had already approved this title,13 al-Māwardī
felt it only befitted God.14 The title aqda al-quḍāt may therefore have been
intended by the caliph as a reward for al-Māwardī’s courage, academic
ABŪ ḤASAN AL-MĀWARDĪ 133
integrity and spiritual sincerity. Indeed, a relationship of admiration and

respect typically characterised al-Māwardī’s interactions with rulers.
Introduction to His Works

Stylistically, al-Māwardī’s political writings fall into two categories: the
‘Mirrors of Princes’ format, focusing on a ruler’s social responsibilities and
ideal conduct, and the more structured, government-oriented format that
typically expounds on the theory of imāma (the caliphate).15 Works by
al-Māwardī belonging to the first group include Naṣīḥat al-mulūk (Advice
to Kings), Tashil al-naẓar wa ta’jīl al-ẓafar (Facilitating Judgement and
Hastening Victory), and Kitāb al-wizāra’ (Book of the Vizierate). Works in
the second category include Kitāb adab al-dunya wa al-dīn (Ethics of this
World and in Religion) and the aforementioned al-Aḥkām al-sulṭāniyya.
Al-Aḥkām al-sulṭāniyya is the first fiqh (Islamic jurisprudence)
text dedicated exclusively to matters of political implementation and
governance.16 Although earlier Islamic scholars had touched on these
matters, al-Māwardī was “the first Muslim scholar to…collect all the
ordinances relating to public law and arrange them in one volume.”17
Probably produced during the reign of al-Qā’im, al-Aḥkām is still regarded
as a key document, having been little improved on throughout the
centuries.18 It remains the standard reference for both traditional Sunni
political thought and the modern study of Islamic medieval political
thought. However, it is important to note that al-Aḥkām was written
specifically as a handbook for the caliphs and busy government officials. In
the preface, it is clear that al-Māwardī did not intend to provide a detailed
exposition of Islamic law and ethics, but rather a brief guide to the core
components of Islam’s political structure:
As the laws of governance are more applicable to those in authority but
because these latter, being occupied with politics and management,
are prevented from examining these laws as they are mixed with all
the other laws, I have devoted a special book to them.19
In al-Aḥkām, al-Māwardī constructed a set of ground-breaking legal
guidelines that positioned the caliph within Islam’s legal framework.
He sought to outline a contract (‘aqd) of imāma that would detail the
caliphate’s necessity, the delimitations of its power, and the process of a
caliph’s appointment. This formalisation based on Islamic theology was
the first of its kind. In effect, al-Aḥkām placed the caliph “under the law,”
stressing that “his authority [was] subordinate to that of the law.”20 This
constituted a serious reform of Islamic political thought. Al-Māwardī began

his chapter on imāma by describing the caliph as a vicegerent of the Prophet
Muḥammad, not God.21 This ran contrary to the generally accepted norm
and was likely intended to discourage the period’s inclination towards
absolute monarchy, as influenced by pre-Islamic Arabian, Byzantine,
Persian and Roman practices.22 In terms of the appointment of the caliph,
al-Māwardī favoured election and outlined several requirements for both
the electors (ahl al-ikhtiyār) and the potential candidates for the caliphate
(ahl al-imāma). The criteria for electors included: a just disposition; good
knowledge of the Sharia; and “insight and wisdom” into who would be
suitable as leader given the situation of the Ummah at the time of election.23
Regarding the candidates for the caliphate itself, al-Māwardī outlined
seven requirements: a just disposition; good knowledge of the Sharia
(for the purpose of conducting ijtihād, or independent legal reasoning);
overall good health (including hearing, sight, speech and mobility); good
administrative capabilities; courage in war; and (controversially) direct
descent from the Quraysh (the tribe of the Prophet).
This theoretical outline became central to all subsequent Islamic political
concepts of the imāma. Even the eminent Ibn Khaldūn (d.808/1406)
utilised it in his own theory of state.24 Certainly, it is not difficult to
appreciate why al-Māwardī became so well-respected; throughout his
work, he consistently exhibits a high level of academic rigour, including an
openness to opposing views. This inspired confidence in both his honesty
and depth of knowledge.
Several Perspectives on al-Māwardī

Al-Māwardī’s high rank and close relationship with the ‘Abbāsids has
drawn much speculation. Numerous writers have remarked that his
political theories, although based on the Islamic corpus, conveniently
serve ‘Abbāsid interests, especially against the Būyid Emirs. As a result, E.
A. Hamid has described al-Māwardī as a “conformist, Abbasid-patronized
writer.”25 Certainly, this claim is not totally unfounded – below is J. Auda’s
summary of how al-Māwardī ‘harmonised’ existing ‘Abbāsid political
culture with his interpretation of the Islamic sources:
Al-Mawardi legitimized the Abbasid tribal and monarchic
system, which he found most excellent at his time….Al-Mawardi
‘interpreted’ the script[ure]s to imply ‘protecting people with noble
lineage’ [such as Abbasids] from having a governor over them unless
he comes from more noble roots, ‘legitimizing a caliph who is

appointed by another of his own’, ‘giving people money from the
trust according to their tribal lineages’, and giving the caliph the
right to ‘have a monopoly over decision making’ (al-istibdād bi al-
amr).26
Also, in the event that a caliph failed to meet the basic requirements of
his office as outlined in al-Ahkām, there is no mention of any ‘impeachment’
procedures by which he could be removed. This again suggests a desire
to protect ‘Abbāsid interests.27 Al-Ahkām also preserves the status quo
regarding Būyid dominance; according to the text, as long as the Būyid
Emirs continue to show some sort of ‘loyalty’ (e.g. mentioning the name
of the caliph in Friday prayers, sending official letters and envoys, etc.),
their independent political powers are fully legitimate.
Overall, al-Māwardī’s analysis is perhaps too intimately linked to the
historical-political context of the fifth/eleventh century. The main weakness
of his theory is arguably its failure to touch upon a caliph’s accountability;
an absence of legal checks and balances has led to accusations of him
being constrained by “necessity and expediency,” of merely conducting
a justification of political reality, perhaps to the point of disregarding the
Sharia.28 But his ‘harmonisation’ of existing historical-political realities
with the Islamic corpus need not be viewed as evidence of intellectual
dishonesty. For al-Māwardī, the caliphal system was already many
centuries old and deeply rooted in the psychology of the period. Although
many of al-Aḥkām’s political theories seem unacceptable by contemporary
standards, al-Māwardī may simply have been reacting to what was, for
him, the only foreseeable political system. It would have been ‘instinctive’
for him to interpret the Islamic corpus within that model, in the absence
of viable alternatives.
Conclusion: Al-Māwardī as an Architect of Islamic Civilisation

Although it is clear that the fifth/eleventh century caliphal system heavily
influenced al-Māwardī, he did make important and original contributions
to Islamic political theory. Al-Māwardī was the first scholar to compile all
governance-related fiqh into a single volume. This treatment reinforced the
subject’s identity as a separate discipline, greatly influencing later scholars’
perceptions of it. Moreover, al-Aḥkām managed to theoretically and legally
reposition the imāma and the status of the caliph within the boundaries of
Sharia. It formally delimited the powers of the caliph while also introducing
strict requirements for those who wished to hold that office. To a lesser
extent, it also demanded religious and secular accountability.
Within the complex nexus of the ‘Abbāsid-Būyid power relationship,
al-Māwardī’s work also represents an important re-interpretation of
scriptural sources in order to extract original political theories suitable
to contemporary needs. It signals the start of a process whereby concrete
policies and laws could be formulated from the broad and relatively
vague constitutional framework of Sharia. In that context, al-Māwardī
provides many useful insights into the reinterpretation of historical events
surrounding the ṣaḥāba (Companions of the Prophet) and the Rightfully
Guided Caliphs (Khulafā’ al-Rāshidīn), allowing the examples of those
key Islamic figures to be successfully applied to the more complex and
expanded political system of the ‘Abbāsid caliphate.
In sum, al-Māwardī’s acute awareness of his contemporary political
circumstances and his ability to make practical, academically rigorous and
creative legal suggestions on the basis of those circumstances, is something
contemporary Islamic thinkers should strive to emulate. This truly makes
al-Māwardī an ‘Architect of Islamic Civilisation’.
Notes
1. The Princeton Encyclopedia of Islamic Political Thought, s.v. ‘Al-Mawardi.’
2. Muhammad Qamaruddin Khan, ‘Al-Mawardi,’ in A History of Muslim
Philosophy, with Short Accounts of Other Disciplines and the Modern Renaissance
in Muslim Lands, vol. 3, ed. M. M. Sharif (Delhi: Low Price Publications,
1961).
3. Ahmad Mubarak al-Baghdadi, ‘The Political Thought of Abu Hasan al-
Mawardi,’ unpublished PhD Thesis, University of Edinburgh (1981).
4. Ibid.
5. ‘Philosophers: Abu al-Hasan al-Mawardi,’ Trinity College, Hartford
Conneticut. Available at: http://www.trincoll.edu/depts/phil/philo/phils/
muslim/mawardi.html. (Accessed on: 21 October 2015).
6. A. K. S. Lambton, State and Government in Medieval Islam: An Introduction
to the Study of Islamic Political Theory: the Jurists (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1981).
7. Al-Baghdadi, ‘Political Thought of al-Mawardi.’
8. Ibid.
9. Ibid. Gaining support by recognising the caliph was not, however, the
only option: Mu’izz al-Daula (r.945-967), a Shi’a-inclining Būyid Emir,
considered overthrowing the Sunni ‘Abbāsids in favour of a Shi’a ‘Alid (those
claiming descendant from ‘Alī and Faṭīma). However, this move was halted
after consultation with advisors. It was felt that acknowledging ‘Alid power
would give credence to the latter’s supposedly divine right to rule, thereby
potentially destroying Būyid power in the long term.

10. Abū al-Ḥasan ‘Alī al-Māwardī, al-Ahkam as-Sultaniyah: The Laws of Islamic
Governance, trans. Asadullah Yate (London: Ta-Ha Publishers, 1996), 7.
12. Khan, ‘al-Mawardi.’
14. According to al-Māwardī, “Verily, the worst title is ‘King of Kings'.”
15. Ibid, 68.
16. D. P. Little, ‘A New Look at Al-Ahkam Al-Sultaniyya,’ The Muslim World 64,
no. 1 (1974): 1–15.
17. Al-Baghdadi, ‘Political Thought of al-Mawardi,’ 21.
18. Ibid, 137.
19. Al-Māwardī, al-Ahkam as-Sultaniyah, 7.
20. Lambton, State and Government, 34.
21. E. I. J. Rosenthal, Political Thought in Medieval Islam: An Introductory Outline
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1958).
22. Ibid, 31.
23. Al-Māwardī, al-Ahkam as-Sultaniyah, 11.
24. For example, Ibn Khaldūn upheld al-Māwardī’s prerequisite that the caliph
belong to the Quraysh, although modifying it to mean ‘having strong
asabiyah’. Ibn Khaldūn’s concept of the ‘cyclical state’ shows clear similarities
with al-Māwardī’s theory on government lifespan. See al-Baghdadi, ‘Political
Thought of al-Mawardi.’
25. Eltigani Abdul Hamid, ‘Al-Mawardi’s Theory of State: Some Ignored
Dimensions,’ American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 18, no. 4 (2001):
1–18.
26. Jasser Auda, Maqasid al-Shariah as Philosophy of Islamic Law: A Systems
Approach (London: The International Institute of Islamic Thought, 2007),
176.
27. Rosenthal, Political Thought in Medieval Islam, 32.
28. Lambton, State and Government, 102.
Further Reading
Al-Baghdadi, Ahmad Mubarak. ‘The Political Thought of Abu Hasan al-Mawardi.’
Unpublished PhD Thesis, University of Edinburgh, 1981.
Al-Māwardī, Abū al-Ḥasan ‘Alī. Al-Ahkām As-Sultaniyah: The Laws of Islamic

Governance. Translated by Asadullah Yate. London: Ta-Ha Publishers, 1996.
Auda, Jasser. Maqasid al-Shariah as Philosophy of Islamic Law: A Systems Approach.

London: The International Institute of Islamic Thought, 2007.
Hamid, E. A. ‘Al-Mawardi’s Theory of State-Some Ignored Dimensions.’ American

Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 18, no 4 (2001): 1–18.
Khan, Muhammad Qamaruddin. ‘Al-Mawardi.’ In A History of Muslim Philosophy,

with Short Accounts of Other Disciplines and the Modern Renaissance in Muslim
Lands, vol. 3, edited by M. M. Sharif. Delhi: Low Price Publications, 1961.
Lambton, A. K. S. State and Government in Medieval Islam: An Introduction to the

Study of Islamic Political Theory: the Jurists. Oxford: Oxford University Press,
1981.
Little, D. P. ‘A New Look at Al-Ahkam Al-Sultaniyya.’ The Muslim World 64, no.
1 (1974): 1–15.
‘Philosophers: Abu al-Hasan al-Mawardi.’ Trinity College, Hartford Conneticut.

Available at: http://www.trincoll.edu/depts/phil/philo/phils/muslim/mawardi.
html.
Rosenthal, E. I. J. Political Thought in Medieval Islam: An Introductory Outline.

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1958.
18
Abū Muḥammad ‘Alī ibn Ḥazm
(384-456AH/994-1064CE)
Wan Naim Wan Mansor and Eric Winkel
His speech had an elegance that took hold of the hearts of the people.
He had a way of moving freely in disciplines which the jurists of al-
Andalus could not match at that time – due to their inadequacy in the
use of philosophical speculation.1
. Iyāḍ ibn Mūsā describing Ibn Ḥazm

Qādī
Abū Muḥammad ‘Alī ibn Aḥmad ibn Saʿīd ibn Ḥazm (384-456AH/994-
1064CE) was a key Cordobian scholar whose work helped define and
codify the textualist-oriented Ẓāhirī madhhab. A confident, competent
and unflinching Islamic intellectual, Ibn Ḥazm’s views were always put
forth with a characteristic tenacity and forthrightness; he had no qualms
about making scathing remarks about those who opposed his views.2 A
polymath, he remains one of the most prolific scholars in Muslim history:
according to his son, Ibn Ḥazm wrote four hundred books, covering
80,000 pages. Very few of these, however, have survived.3 Nevertheless,
Ibn Ḥazm’s impact on Islamic thought has been both varied and multi-
disciplinary. He has been described as a traditionalist, a genealogist, a
religious historian, a philosopher, a physicist, a grammarian, and a pioneer
of comparative religion.
The Aristocrat Turned Scholar

Ibn Ḥazm was born and raised in Cordoba (Qurtuba), the then cultural
centre of al-Andalus (Spain) and capital of the Umayyad caliphate. Born
into a wealthy and influential family, his father, Abū ‘Umar b. Sa’īd b.
Ḥazm b. Ghalib, had been a minister in the court of the Umayyad child-
caliph, Hishām II (r.976-1009 and 1010-1013). An early biographer

described Ibn Ḥazm’s father as “a learned, cultured and honest man,” who
had a passion for linguistic clarity and a strong sense of justice.4
Coming from a privileged family, Ibn Ḥazm had a comfortable
childhood, surrounded by the women of his father’s harem, who taught
him the basics of reading and writing.5 Later, he would receive an excellent
education at the feet of many leading scholars, in subjects like Qur’anic
studies, grammar, poetry, hadith, essential fiqh, and various other subjects
considered standard for a boy of Ibn Ḥazm’s aristocratic background.6 This
privileged environment, however, served to separate the young Ibn Ḥazm
from the company of other children. It also insulated him from the decline
of al-Andalus, marked by increasing political instability and the emergence
of competing local states.7 It could not, however, shield him from these
changes forever.
Thus, Ibn Ḥazm was not always an ‘ālim (scholar). Only in his early thirties
did he begin to settle down to a life of scholarship.8 Prior to that, he occupied
a number of prestigious and powerful political positions (including that of
vizier), experiencing many tribulations as a result, including imprisonment
and exile.9 As a government officer and member of the political elite, Ibn
Ḥazm involved himself in the deepest complexities of Andalusian politics;
the weakening power of the Umayyad caliphate meant Ibn Ḥazm spent his
twenties negotiating various political factions, their military skirmishes and
power plays. Generally, however, he was an Umayyad loyalist with a “fervent
partisanship for the Emirs of Banu Umayya, the early ones as well as the
ones surviving in the Mashriq and in al-Andalus, his faith in the perfect
legitimacy of their imamate [never faltering], his refusal to acknowledge the
rights [to the imamate] of whomever owned the same prerequisites among
the Qurayshites [unwavering].”10 Ibn Ḥazm nevertheless became involved
in the various intricate power plays surrounding the elite brotherhood of
government elites, known as mawali amiriyya (Amirid clients), who vied
for control with newly-emerging states and the creeping Berber forces from
North Africa.11
When Ibn Ḥazm finally tired of politics and turned to scholarship,
he quickly became well known for arguing that the interpretation of
Islam’s primary sources should be limited to only what is openly apparent
(ẓāhir). Thus, Ibn Ḥazm abhorred excessive use of speculative linguistics,
preferring instead to limit interpretation to surface meaning alone.12 This
position, associated with the Ẓāhirī madhhab, ran contrary to the period’s
prevailing intellectual currents, in which speculative Arabic grammar and
linguistics occupied a central position.13 Arnaldez differentiates between
ABŪ MUḤAMMAD ‘ALĪ IBN ḤAZM 141
Ibn Ḥazm’s and (for example) al-Shāfi’ī’s theory of language by stating

that the former was static (i.e. relying only on what is evident) while
the latter was dynamic, or prepared to reach beneath the surface to find
new, not necessarily immediately apparent meanings.14 Ibn Ḥazm found
this latter position unacceptable. By extension, he also rejected the legal
methods of qiyās (analogy), istiḥsān (juristic preference) and ra’y (personal
opinion), considering them “too arbitrary…and leav[ing] too much room
for human, and therefore fallible, speculation.”15 He did, however, accept
logical demonstration (burhān) as a rational means of proof.
During the reign of the ‘Abbādid ruler, al-Muʿtadid. (r.433-461/1042-
1069), who was based in Seville, Ibn Ḥazm’s ‘unorthodox’ writings brought
him into opposition with Mālikī doctrine, the then prevalent legal school
in al-Andalus.16 This, however, did not impede Ibn Ḥazm; it is recorded
that he eagerly participated in debates with Mālikī scholars, refusing to shy
away from conflicts with them.17 This courage resulted in much rebuke
and censure; at one stage during al-Mu‘tad. id’s reign, Ibn Ḥazm was even
imprisoned and his books burnt. He responded to this repression with
poems like this:
They said, be mindful! For people talk
A lot, and the declarations of enemies are ordeals.
Thus I asked: is it me they censure although I do
not express personal opinions, when in their opinion is temptation?
I am devoted to the text. I do not turn to
Anything else, nor find contempt in supporting it.
I do not incline toward opinions that are taught
About religion. Rather, my sufficiency is the Qurʾān and the Sunnas!18
Over time, however, several drawbacks to Ibn Ḥazm’s Ẓāhirī position

began to emerge. For example, some commented that Ibn Ḥazm’s
approach stripped Islam of its ability to adapt and evolve over time, or
“tout instrument d’adaptation et toute possibilité d’évolution,”19 and that it
would “forfeit any chance of harmonizing the contradictory rulings of
the Shariah.”20 According one perspective, his linguistic methods might
even go against the intentions (maqāṣid) of the Sharia.21 However, despite
ultimately falling outside the mainstream of Islamic scholarship on these
issues, Ibn Ḥazm undeniably played a huge role in shaping mainstream
Sunni thought, both during his lifetime and afterwards.22 His intellectual
courage, his willingness to remain true to his methodologies regardless of
their consequences, and his certainty are all worthy of emulation.
Work and Contribution

As briefly mentioned, Ibn Ḥazm was an extremely prolific writer. Aside
from the famed historian, Abū Ja’far Muḥammad ibn Jarīr al-Ṭabarī
(d.310/923), no other Muslim writer is known to have produced so
many texts. Amongst his most significant work is the eight-volume, al-
Kitāb al-muhallā bi‘l athār (The Book Ornamented with Traditions).23
This is a comprehensive examination of legal issues from a comparative,
yet literalist, perspective. Partly due to its exceedingly critical tone, it has
traditionally invoked hostility, a response which masks the many otherwise
valuable contributions it makes, including many refreshingly original
interpretations of the Qur’an and hadith.
Another important text by Ibn Ḥazm is his book on the sources of
law, entitled al-Iḥkām fī uṣūl al-aḥkām.24 He also wrote books on science
and medicine, in addition to a text which some consider to be the first
comparative study of Islam, Judaism, and Christianity, entitled Kitāb al-
fiṣal fī al-milal wa al-ahwā’ wa al-niḥal (The Book Separating Religions,
Heresies and Sects).25 His book on love, Ṭawq al-hamāma (The Ring of
the Dove), has also garnered considerable attention, including from noted
Orientalists like Ignaz Goldziher and C. Brockelmann. A. J. Arberry also
translated it into English, with the subtitle A Treatise on the Art and Practice
of Arab Love.26 Spanish scholars see the Ṭawq al-hamāma as an important
basis for later Hispano-Arab poetry and literature, and possibly a crucial
stage in the development of the troubadour tradition.
To give a sense of Ibn Ḥazm’s writing style and approach, below are two
extended passages from his works, one on comparative religion and the
other on legal issues. The first extract, taken from Kitāb al-fiṣal, sees Ibn
Ḥazm take up the issue of female prophecy, which was highly contentious
during his time:
The Qur’an says that God sent angels to women and informed them
with true revelation from God. The mother of Ishaq was given good
news of Ishaq from God. He [God] said, “His wife was standing
there and laughed when We gave the good news to her of [the birth
of ] Ishaq, and after Ishaq, Yaʿqub. She said, Woe is me, shall I bear
a child when I am an old woman and this old man is my husband?
This is surely a strange thing. They said, Are you wondering at a
command of God? God’s mercy and blessing on you, people of the
House [Qur’an 11:71-3].”
This address of the angels to the mother of Ishaq from God of good
news for her of Ishaq and then Yaʿqub, then of their statement to
her, “Are you wondering at a command of God,”…could [not] be to
any but a prophet of some kind. And we find that God sent Gabriel
to Mary mother of Jesus (on them be peace) with an address. He
[Gabriel] said to her, “I am a messenger of your Lord, to give a gift
to you of a pure son” [19:19]. This is true prophethood, with a true
revelation and message from God to her, and Zakariyah found her
having from God daily sustenance arriving to bless him with her as
a virtuous daughter.
And we find with the mother of Moses, on them be peace, that God
gave revelation to her to cast her child into the Nile. He informed
her that the child would return to her. So He made her a prophet,
and this is prophethood, there is no doubt of it.
Thus, Ibn Ḥazm appealed directly to the Qur’anic text for evidence
supporting female prophecy. By contrast, he never referred to scholastic
opinion, preferring instead to rely entirely on the sacred text. This pattern
of enquiry is also apparent in the following passage from al-Muhallā,
concerning abandoned babies:
Issue: That a small [child] is found, cast off. It is obligatory that
the one in its presence pick him up, and necessarily so, as God said,
“Help each other in goodness and piety, and do not help each other
in offence and enmity” [5:2], and as God said, “Who saves the life,
it is as if he saved the people altogether” [5:32]. There is no offense
greater than the perishing of a child’s soul born in Islam, small,
having no fault, and then dying hungry, cold, or eaten by wild dogs.
It is authenticated from the Messenger, peace be on him, that “Who
is not kind to people, God will not be kind to him.”
In another section of al-Muhallā, Ibn Ḥazm discusses the financial
support (nafaqa) due to a wife from her husband. After expounding on
the position of the four leading madhāhib – namely, that a husband’s
obligation to support his wife remains undiminished, regardless of his
own financial status or whether his wife is independently wealthy – Ibn
Ḥazm writes that “all of them have fallen into error.” He then proceeds to
encapsulate what he sees as the true spirit of the marital tie, as crystalised in
the Qur’an’s characterisation of marriage as “friendship and compassion”
(30:21). On this basis, Ibn Ḥazm concludes that it is the duty of a wealthy
wife to support her husband when the latter is poor and in need of
support, for friendship and compassion cannot be one-sided. This (and
other) refreshingly original contributions from Ibn Ḥazm have, however,

remained sadly neglected, lost under the weight of a generally hostile
reception to his work as a whole.
Conclusion: Ibn Ḥazm as an Architect of Islamic Civilisation
Ibn Ḥazm’s illustrious life frequently alternated between fortune and
tribulation. Being from a privileged family gave Ibn Ḥazm access to an
excellent education (i.e. Qur’an, fiqh, poetry, language) and gave him
the opportunity to ‘rub shoulders’ with people of power and influence.
His political exploits during his twenties, however, although entailing
periods of prestige and power, also led to hardship. These crucial formative
experiences perhaps helped shape Ibn Ḥazm’s disputative manner, his
critical thinking and ingenious originality.
Ibn Ḥazm’s intellectual ingenuity and originality, although
controversial, have ultimately been beneficial for Islamic jurisprudence.
Despite falling outside the fold of mainstream Islamic legal thought, Ibn
Ḥazm’s methodological criticism and original analysis greatly improved the
development of Islamic legal thought in its entirety. Regarding Ibn Ḥazm’s
criticisms of qiyās, for example, Talbot has concluded the following:
[His] challenges were part of the process by which the legal theory
was perfected. Thus, it is from the challenges posed by Ibn Hazm
and [other] groups whose theories fell outside the mainstream legal
theory that one can understand better the weaknesses, strength and
gaps in the existing theories and methodologies.27
Such intellectual courage and clarity in the face of opposition exemplified
Ibn Ḥazm’s struggle and, in the end, proved vital to the development and
systemisation of mainstream Islamic legal thought, qualifying Ibn Ḥazm
as an ‘architect’ of Islamic civilisation.
Note
1. Samir Kaddouri, ‘Refutations of Ibn Hazm by Maliki Authors from Al-
Andalus and North Africa,’ in Ibn Hazm of Cordoba, ed. Camilla Adang,
Maribel Fierro and Sabine Schmidtke (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 561.
2. There is a famous saying that, “the tongue of Ibn Ḥazm was a twin brother
to the sword of al-Ḥajjāj [the infamous 1st/7th century general and governor
of Iraq]” (Ibn Khallikān, Wafayāt, vol. 3, 328; al-Yāfiʿī, Mirʾa, vol. 3, 62).
3. Jose Miguel Puerta Vilchez, ‘Inventory of Ibn Hazm’s Works,’ in Ibn Hazm of
Cordoba, ed. Camilla Adang, Maribel Fierro and Sabine Schmidtke (Leiden:
Brill, 2013), 683.
4. Jose Miguel Puerta Vilchez, ‘Abu Muhammad Ali Ibn Hazm: A Biographical
Sketch,’ in Ibn Hazm of Cordoba, ed. Camilla Adang, Maribel Fierro and
Sabine Schmidtke (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 4.
5. Ibid, 4.
6. Camilla Adang, ‘From Malikism to Shafiism to Zahirism: the “conversions”
of Ibn Hazm,’ in Islamic Conversions: Religious Identities in Mediterranean
Islam, ed. Mercedes Garcia-Arsenal (Paris: Maisonneuve et Larose, European
Science Foundation, 2001), 75.
7. Salim al-Hassani and Salah Zaimeche, ‘Ibn Hazm’s Philosophy and Thoughts
on Science,’ Foundation for Science, Technology and Civilization (2003).
Available at: http://muslimheritage.com/uploads/Main%20-%20Ibn%20
Hazm.pdf. (Accessed on: 12/07/2016).
8. Bruna Soravia, ‘A Portrait of the Alim as a Young Man: The Formative Years
of Ibn Hazm, 404/1013-420/1029,’ in Ibn Hazm of Cordoba, ed. Camilla
Adang, Maribel Fierro and Sabine Schmidtke (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 35.
9. Vilchez, ‘Ibn Hazm,’ 10.
10. Soravia ‘Portrait of the Alim,’ 38.
11. Cf. Ibid.
12. Salvador Pena, ‘Which Curiosity? Ibn Hazm’s Suspicion of Grammarians,’
in Ibn Hazm of Cordoba, ed. Camilla Adang, Maribel Fierro and Sabine
Schmidtke (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 233.
13. Ibid, 235.
14. Adam Sabra, ‘Ibn Hazm’s Literalism: A Critique of Islamic Legal Theory,’
in Ibn Hazm of Cordoba, ed. Camilla Adang, Maribel Fierro and Sabine
Schmidtke (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 98.
15. Adang, ‘From Malikism to Shafiism to Zahirism,’ 76.
16. Kaddouri, ‘Refutations of Ibn Hazm,’ 542.
17. Ibid, 550.
18. Ibid, 553.
19. R. Arnaldez, ‘Grammaire et théologie chez Ibn Hazm de Cordoue,’ Vrin
(2002), 248. Available at: http://philpapers.org/rec/ARNGET. (Accessed on:
13/07/2016).
20. Sabra, ‘Ibn Hazm’s Literalism,’ 100.
21. See Jasser Auda, Maqasid al-Shariah as Philosophy of Islamic Law: A Systems
Approach (London: The International Institute of Islamic Thought, 2007).
Auda argues that Ibn Ḥazm disagreed that the Prophet conducted ijtihād
(independent reasoning). Rather, he held that the Prophet was always under
the guidance of waḥy (revelation). Al-Ghazālī (d.505/1111), however, counter-
argued that the Prophet’s contact with revelation was only ever occasional, not
upon request, thereby necessitating recourse to reason when appropriate. A
demonstrative example of this is the Prophet’s misapplication of ‘pollenating
palm dates’, in which he used his reason and later acknowledged his error.
22. Karmen E. Talbot, ‘Arguments Against the Sunni Legal Methodology: Ibn
Hazm and His Refutation of Qiyas,’ unpublished Masters of Arts thesis,
McGill University (1987), 8.
23. ʻAlī ibn Aḥmad ibn Ḥazm, al-Muhalla, ed. and trans. Fouad Muhammad
Ayad (Sherman, TX: Islamic Mosque at Texoma, 1985).
24. ʻAlī ibn Aḥmad ibn Ḥazm, al-Iḥkām fī uṣūl al-aḥkām (Cairo: Maṭbaʻat al-
imām, 1945).
25. ʻAlī ibn Aḥmad ibn Ḥazm, Kitāb al-Fiṣal fī al-milal wa-al-ahwāʼ wa-al-
niḥal, ed. Muḥammad ibn ʻAbd al-Karīm Shahrastānī (Cairo: al-Maṭbaʻah
al-adabīyah, 1899).
26. ʻAlī ibn Aḥmad ibn Ḥazm, The Ring of the Dove: A Treatise on the Art and
Practice of Arab Love, trans. A. J. Arberry (London: Luzac, 1953).
27. Talbot, ‘Arguments Against the Sunni Legal Methodology,’ 8.
Further Reading
Adang, Camilla. ‘From Malikism to Shafiism to Zahirism: the “conversions” of
Ibn Hazm.’ In Islamic Conversions: Religious Identities in Mediterranean Islam,
edited by Mercedes Garcia-Arsenal. Paris: Maisonneuve et Larose, European
Science Foundation, 2001.
Al-Hassani, Salim, and Salah Zaimeche. ‘Ibn Hazm’s Philosophy and Thoughts on
Science.’ Foundation for Science, Technology and Civilization, 2003. Available
at: http://muslimheritage.com/uploads/Main%20-%20Ibn%20Hazm.pdf.
Arnaldez, R. ‘Grammaire et théologie chez Ibn Hazm de Cordoue.’ Vrin, 2002.

Available at: http://philpapers.org/rec/ARNGET.
Auda, Jasser. Maqasid al-Shariah as Philosophy of Islamic Law: A Systems Approach.

London: The International Institute of Islamic Thought, 2007.
Ibn Ḥazm, ʻAlī ibn Aḥmad. Al-Iḥkām fī uṣūl al-aḥkām. Cairo: Matbaʻat
. al-imām,
1945.
_____________________. Al-Muhalla. Edited and translated by Fouad
Muhammad Ayad. Sherman, TX: Islamic Mosque at Texoma, 1985.
_____________________. Kitāb al-Fisal

. fī al-milal wa-al-ahwāʼ wa-al-nihal.
.
Edited by Muhammad
. ibn ʻAbd al-Karīm Shahrastānī. Cairo: al-Maṭbaʻah al-
adabīyah, 1899.
_____________________. The Ring of the Dove: A Treatise on the Art and Practice
of Arab Love. Translated by A. J. Arberry. London: Luzac, 1953.
Kaddouri, Samir. ‘Refutations of Ibn Hazm by Maliki Authors from Al-Andalus

and North Africa.’ In Ibn Hazm of Cordoba, edited by Camilla Adang, Maribel
Fierro and Sabine Schmidtke, 539-600. Leiden: Brill, 2013.
Pena, Salvador. ‘Which Curiosity? Ibn Hazm’s Suspicion of Grammarians.’ In

Ibn Hazm of Cordoba, edited by Camilla Adang, Maribel Fierro and Sabine
Schmidtke, 233-251. Leiden: Brill, 2013.
Sabra, Adam. ‘Ibn Hazm’s Literalism: A Critique of Islamic Legal Theory.’ In

Ibn Hazm of Cordoba, edited by Camilla Adang, Maribel Fierro and Sabine
Schmidtke, 3-24. Leiden: Brill, 2013.
Soravia, Bruna. ‘A Portrait of the Alim as a Young Man: The Formative Years of
Ibn Hazm, 404/1013-420/1029.’ In Ibn Hazm of Cordoba, edited by Camilla
Adang, Maribel Fierro and Sabine Schmidtke, 25–50. Leiden: Brill, 2013.
Talbot, Karmen E. ‘Arguments Against the Sunni Legal Methodology: Ibn Hazm
and His Refutation of Qiyas.’ Unpublished Masters of Arts thesis, McGill
University, 1987.
Vilchez, Jose Miguel Puerta. ‘Abu Muhammad Ali Ibn Hazm: A Biographical
Sketch.’ In Ibn Hazm of Cordoba, edited by Camilla Adang, Maribel Fierro and
Sabine Schmidtke, 3-24. Leiden: Brill, 2013.
______________________. ‘Inventory of Ibn Hazm’s Works.’ In Ibn Hazm of

Cordoba, edited by Camilla Adang, Maribel Fierro and Sabine Schmidtke,
683-760. Leiden: Brill, 2013.
19
Abū Ḥāmid al-Ghazālī
(450-505AH/1058-1111CE)
Karim D. Crow
Although Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad al-Ghazālī (450-505AH/1058-

1111CE) died over nine hundred years ago, his teachings continue to
provide a model for contemporary humanity. His life and thought still
pose challenges for us, particularly on how to integrate intellectual/rational
activity with an inner mystical realisation of truth.
Orphaned at an early age, Abū Ḥāmid and his younger brother, Abū
l-Futūḥ Aḥmad, were raised by a Sufi-orientated family friend. In their
youth, they were trained in the traditional Islamic religious sciences,
including jurisprudence (fiqh) and hadith studies. They also travelled to
Nishapur, the then provincial capital of Khurasan, to become pupils to the
distinguished Ash‘arī theologian and Shāfi‘ī jurist, Imām al-Ḥaramayn al-
Juwaynī (d.478/1085). Al-Ghazālī would remain committed to both the
Ash‘arī theological creed (kalām) and to Shāfi‘ī principles of jurisprudence
(usūl al-fiqh) throughout his life, making this form of Sunni orthodoxy the
doctrinal basis for his intellectual and spiritual work.
But rather than his early contact with al-Juwaynī, it was quite a
different event that ultimately proved definitive in al-Ghazālī’s quest
for knowledge. Like many students, al-Ghazālī travelled far and wide
looking for knowledge. On one occasion, while crossing the high peaks,
his donkey laden with study notes, his caravan was robbed by brigands.1
As the bandits prepared to make off with their loot, al-Ghazālī pleaded
with their chief to leave him the notes containing all the knowledge he
had painstakingly gathered over the years. Mockingly, the brigand replied:
“Knowledge lies not on the back of a donkey; knowledge lies within
the Heart of man!” From this point on, al-Ghazālī sought for certainty
(yaqin) only within the human heart. This quest would take him along the
ABŪ ḤĀMID AL-GHAZĀLĪ 149
well-traveled byways of legal methodology, up the steep paths of rational

theological and philosophical investigation, and finally to the lofty peaks
of trans-rational spiritual realisation (kashf).
Politics and Public Office

In 478/1085, al-Ghazālī left his hometown of Tus, Khurasan, for the Seljuq
court at Isfahan, where he would enjoy the patronage of the powerful
Persian statesman, Nizām al-Mulk (d.485/1092).2 In 484/1091, Nizām
al-Mulk appointed al-Ghazālī to the Madrasa Nizāmiyya in Baghdad, the
central college of the ‘Abbāsid empire. There al-Ghazālī taught Shāfi‘ī
jurisprudence for over four years and was present during the accession
ceremony of the seventeen year-old caliph, al-Mustazir . Bi-llāh (r.487-
512/1094-1118). Soon after ascending, al-Mustazir . commissioned al-
Ghazālī to write a refutation of the ideological claims of the Shi’a Nizārī
Ismā‘īlī movement, which was then the chief religious and political threat
to ‘Abbāsid authority. The leader of this movement, al-Ḥasan al-Ṣabbāḥ
(d.518/1124), had recently seized the mountain fortress of Alamut in
Northeastern Iran and was busy conducting an intensive campaign to
assert the rights of the Ismā‘īlī Imam to the leadership of all Muslims.
Rejecting the legitimacy of the ‘Abbāsid caliphs, al-Ḥasan called for all
Muslims to submit to the unimpeachable teachings (ta‘līm) of the Nizārī
Ismā‘īlī Imam. In response, al-Ghazālī wrote his Fadā’iḥ al-bātaniyya wa
fadā’il al-mustazhiriyya (The Infamies of the Bātinites and the Excellencies
of the Mustazharites), which denounced Nizārī Ismā‘īlī teachings for
encouraging the reprehensible innovation of blind submission (taqlīd).
Instead, al-Ghazālī emphasised the greater authority of reason (‘aql). In
total, al-Ghazālī would write four more works refuting Ismā‘īlī claims to
the exclusive possession of true knowledge, all of which promoted logic
and reason as a surer guide to truth.
Al-Ghazālī’s close association with the ‘Abbāsid court allowed him to
observe the corruption and immorality of power, as well as the self-serving
compromises of religious scholars infatuated by fame and fortune. Al-
Ghazālī’s own political ideas matured from such experiences; he formulated
a pragmatic position that, while defending both the religious authority
of the caliph and the autocratic central powers of the Sultans and Amirs
as necessary bulwarks against disorder, insisted on the reform of those in
power via ethical and spiritual education. In both his letters to leading
office holders and his famed political manual, Nasīḥat al-mulūk (Advice
to Kings), al-Ghazālī sought to moderate and temper the brutal excesses
and injustices commonly seen during his era. Nevertheless, because of the
importance of social harmony for the well-being of Muslim realms, al-
Ghazālī denounced all revolt as illegitimate, even against an oppressive
and evil ruler.
The Seeker of Truth

In his remarkable autobiography, al-Munqidh min al-dalāl (Deliverance
from Error), al-Ghazālī describes his painfully sincere search for true
knowledge. He describes how, in 488/1095, while at the peak of
discharging his duties at the Madrassa Nizāmiyya, he experienced a
profound cognitive-spiritual crisis characterised by an inability to speak,
forcing him to abandon his eminent public position. This crisis was the
culmination of the severe doubts he had been entertaining for some time
about the truth of sense perception. Initially, and while still at the Madrassa,
these doubts had motivated him to study philosophy. After his final crisis,
however, he turned to the spiritual discipline of experiential cognition (or
taḥqīq ‘inner-verification’). But, before describing this mystical activity,
it is worth briefly looking at al-Ghazālī’s earlier, but equally influential,
treatment of philosophy.
It is hard to accept al-Ghazālī’s assertion that he mastered the subtleties
of Islamic philosophy in less than two years and while still engaged in
the burdens of teaching and writing at the Madrasa Nizāmiyya. Rather,
it is probable that he began his study of falsafa six years earlier, when
he first joined the entourage of Nizām al-Mulk, who actively promoted
literary and intellectual pursuits amongst his followers. But regardless of
when he began studying the subject, al-Ghazālī soon sought to establish
a clear and distinct separation between religion and philosophy, working
to reverse the integration of revealed law (sharī‘a) and philosophy (ḥikma)
initiated by the Arab scientist-philosopher al-Kindī (d.256/870), and then
consummated by the brilliant Iranian thinker, Abū ‘Alī ibn Sīnā (known in
the West as Avicenna, d.429/1037).
Ibn Sīnā’s philosophical system in particular had attempted to present
Muslim intellectuals with a rational explanation for various religious
truths, couching them in the latest scientific findings. Dubbed al-Ra’īs (the
Chief ) in recognition of this impressive intellectual achievement, Ibn Sīnā
succeeded in rationally explaining the validity of spiritual experiences, the
nature of love, the operation of prophecy, and even the visiting of the tombs
of saints. Although many aspects of Ibn Sīnā’s work attracted al-Ghazālī,
including his influential doctrine of the higher faculties of the human soul,
al-Ghazālī ultimately dismissed those of Ibn Sīnā’s metaphysical doctrines

which he believed contradicted essential religious dogmas. In his Tahāfut
al-falāsifa (The Incoherence of the Philosophers), for example, al-Ghazālī
argued that Ibn Sīnā could demonstrate neither God’s creation of the world
nor the spiritual substance of the human soul. He also condemned Ibn
Sīnā’s adherence to the philosophical doctrines of the eternity of the world
(first taught by Aristotle) and the impossibility of God having knowledge
of particular things or events. He also challenged Ibn Sīnā’s denial of the
physical resurrection in favour of a spiritual resurrection. Al-Ghazālī felt
these doctrines could lead many people “to refuse the details of religions
and creeds, and to believe that there are human constructed laws and
artifices” (from Tahāfut). Nevertheless, al-Ghazālī’s reservations about Ibn
Sīnā’s work did not prevent him from authoring the philosophy primer,
Maqāṣid al-falāsifa (The Aims of the Philosophers), essentially an Arabic
paraphrasing and clarification of Ibn Sīnā’s Persian-language handbook,
Dānish Nameh. Ironically, the Maqāṣid later became a basic text for the
study of philosophy in medieval Europe, where ‘al-Gazal’ was viewed as a
leading eastern philosopher.
In several other philosophical works composed during his time teaching
in Baghdad, al-Ghazālī summarised the science of formal logic (manṭiq),
stressing the importance of demonstrative proof for both theology and
jurisprudence. He also produced his classic manual of Ash‘arī theological
doctrine, entitled al-Iqtisād fī l-i‘tiqād (The Middle-Way in Sound
Doctrine), which sought to strike a balance between simply accepting
the pillars of Islamic faith and trusting to rational methods to prove
their validity. In one of his last works, Iljam al-‘awāmm ‘an ‘ilm al-kalām
(Restraining the Masses from the Science of Theology), al-Ghazālī pointed
out that deep intellectual insight into the mysteries of doctrine (i.e.
philosophy) will not help ordinary people of faith rectify their being and
obtain salvation. He also wrote a significant work on ethical philosophy,
entitled Mīzān al-‘amal (The Balance-Scale of Action), which integrated
philosophical opinion concerning the psychology of the soul with al-
Ghazālī’s own rational spirituality. In this text, al-Ghazālī outlined three
levels of belief that a teacher must attain before accepting students: 1)
the level of the general people (i.e. those who cannot comprehend higher
rational and spiritual teachings); 2) the level of a select circle of pupils
who have the potential to grasp higher teachings; and 3) a level which
the teacher privately knows to be true but which he guards from those
incapable of understanding it. This last level demonstrated al-Ghazālī’s
recognition of the philosophical principle of ‘withholding knowledge’
from those who lack the aptitude and/or preparation to receive it, thereby
cautioning against the uncontrolled circulation of metaphysical and
cognitive teachings without proper training and safeguards. Without these
limitations, knowledge could become destructive, impairing rather than
encouraging spiritual aspiration.
Turning to al-Ghazālī’s later experiences with Sufism, after leaving his
teaching position in Baghdad, he performed the pilgrimage to Makkah.
He then spent almost three years (the traditional 1001 days) in Palestine
and Syria as a wandering dervish.3 Although little is known about this
period of his life, it is clear from al-Ghazālī's autobiography that he was
driven by the inner logic of his own intellectual and spiritual search for
‘certainty’ (yaqin). This search, he felt, could only be completed through
the Sufi path:
I apprehended clearly that Sufis are men who had real experiences,
not men of words, and that I had already progressed as far as possible
by way of intellectual apprehension. What remained for me was not
to be attained by oral instruction and study – but only by immediate
experience and treading the Sufi Way.4
As al-Ghazālī knew, the practice of Sufism supposedly enables an
individual to purify their physical and psychic functions until their
perceptive and rational faculties attain such clarity and intensity that
reality can be grasped directly – that is, the state of kashf (or 'unveiling'
of truth) is achieved, utterly transforms one’s being. It was his hunger for
inner certainty and a deeper cognition that propelled al-Ghazālī onto this
path – the path of the Heart.
During the next sixteen years, or from the beginning of his
withdrawal into Sufism until his death, al-Ghazālī produced some
of his most significant work, all of it aimed at renewing the relevance
and application of Islamic religious praxis via a mature synthesis of the
traditional religious disciplines with the Islamic rational sciences and an
original spiritual metaphysic. This task was accomplished in his famed
four-volume masterpiece, Iḥyā’ ‘ulūm al-dīn (Revivifying the Religious
Sciences). Although primarily limited to the sciences of religious praxis
(mu‘āmala), this text also provided glimpses into the science of experiential
cognition (mukāshafa), especially in its treatment of spiritual virtues and
the “wonders of the Heart.” Al-Ghazālī later abridged the Iḥyā’ in the
form of his al-Arba‘īn fī uṣūl al-dīn (Forty Principles of the Foundations
of Religion), as well as in his more revealing Persian summary, Kīmiyā'
al-Sa‘ādah (The Alchemy of Happiness).
The basic structure of al-Ghazālī’s thought as presented in the Iḥyā’

places God and His essential attributes of Will and Knowledge at the
centre of all phenomena. The universe, al-Ghazālī holds, has two aspects:
the natural physical world (mulk) and a heavenly realm (malakūt). Of
these, al-Ghazālī states: “the bodily world has no real existence, but is in
relation to the ‘World of Divine-Order’ (‘ālam al-amr) like the shadow of
a body; the shadow of a man is not the real substance of that man, and
so the individual being is not really existent but is a shadow of the real
substance.”5 Likewise, humanity is basically composed of two aspects: the
body and the spirit (rūḥ), each interpenetrating the other. The body is the
‘riding-animal’ for the spirit (also termed nafs ‘soul’, qalb ‘heart’, or ‘aql
‘mind-intelligence’), in which the essential reality of humanity truly lies.
Al-Ghazālī portrays intelligence as both the noblest human attribute
and the key to ultimate felicity. He views it as a privileged tool for receiving
divine illumination, of opening the heart to an experiential knowledge
of God.6 For al-Ghazālī, the highest, most authentic form of knowledge
is knowledge of God and His actions, for the world is only valuable as
a means of understanding God’s ceaseless Will. This does not, however,
cancel the value of demonstrative reason, as this is required to defend
religion against polemical attacks. Yet, exercising this form of reason is
not incumbent upon all; it need only be undertaken by those equipped
for it, since it is never a substitute for the workings of the heart. God’s
creation and providential ‘generosity’ (jūd) conceal a mystery that can only
be grasped by the heart.
Despite taking this view, al-Ghazālī adapted aspects of Ibn Sīnā’s
teachings on the rational soul in order to provide a more thoroughly
consistent portrayal of human ‘knowing’ and spiritual advancement.
He placed special emphasis on the possibility of increasing the intensity
and purity of human awareness and understanding, culminating in the
level of the sacred ‘prophetic mind’ – the highest attainment of human
intelligence, achieved only by prophets and, to a lesser degree, the saints.
Al-Ghazālī understood that God arranges His creation perfectly.7 His
omnipotence has established a cosmos in keeping with the most perfect
form of regulation: “it [the universe] is according to the necessarily right
order, in accord with what must be and as it must be and in the measure
in which it must be; and there is not potentially anything whatever more
excellent and more complete than it.”8 In his brief but seminal work,
Mishkāt al-anwār (Niche for Lights), al-Ghazālī provided a profound
interpretation (ta’wīl) of the famous Light verse in the Qur’an (“God is
the Light of the Heavens and the Earth...”), linking it with the Prophetic
tradition of the “seventy thousand veils of light and darkness” separating

creation from the Creator. He begins with the observation that the only
true light in the universe is God in His eternal existence. All the beings
in the world receive their borrowed illumination from God, the absolute
Being and total Light. Al-Ghazālī writes that: “All the beings of this world
are the effects of God’s omnipotence and lights of His Essence. There is no
darkness more obscure than non-existence and there is no light brighter
than existence. The existence of all things is a light of the Essence of God
Most High.”9 God is completely manifest in the world, but the divine
Light is so blinding that it conceals its original source. But, just as the light
of the sun, which shines over the entire world, cannot be perceived by an
observer who looks only at the objects around him and does not face up
at the sky, humanity must contemplate God in order to truly understand
Him.
Final Years and Death

Al-Ghazālī ceased his wanderings and returned to Iraq in ca.493/1099,
before finally going back to his native Khurasan, where he remained in
seclusion until 1106. In that year, Fakhr al-Mulk, the son of Nizām al-
Mulk and vizier to the Seljuq Sultan, Aḥmad Sanjar (r.491-512/1097-
1118), coaxed him into resuming his legal teachings at the Madrassa
Nizāmiyya. After a little more than two years, however, al-Ghazālī retired
again, this time for good. Taking up residence in his hometown of Tus, he
began directing a preparatory school for Sufi novices while also privately
teaching a select circle of disciples. He passed away in Tus in the presence
of his brother and sisters in 505/1111.
Al-Ghazālī’s contribution to Islamic thought helped shape a growing
synthesis between theology, philosophy, and Sufism. He was the first to
elaborate a genuinely metaphysical basis for spiritual teachings in Islam. By
joining the mind with the heart, al-Ghazālī helped guide many subsequent
generations of Muslims in their worldly affairs, personal devotions and
intellectual efforts. Even today, al-Ghazālī continues to pose a significant
challenge for us – namely, how to harmoniously integrate rational thought
with an inner experience of God.
Notes
1. Frank Griffel, Al-Ghazali’s Theological Philosophy (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2009), 28.
2. Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, s.v. ‘Al-Ghazali.’ Available at: http://plato.

stanford.edu/entries/al-ghazali/. (Accessed on: 26 August 2016) The Seljuqs
were Turkish military warlords who, under the nominal authority of the
‘Abbāsids in Baghdad, ruled over the central Islamic lands of Iraq, Iran and
Central Asia.
3. Some have claimed that al-Ghazālī left his position at the Madrassa Nizāmiyya
not because of a spiritual crisis but because he had received threats from the
Ismā‘īlīs. Certainly, the Ismā‘īlīs did issue death threats during this period,
typically by leaving a warning note attached to a dagger driven into the pillow
of their intended victims.
4. Abū Ḥāmid al-Ghazālī, The Faith and Practice of al-Ghazali, trans. W. M.
Watt (Oxford: One World, 1998), 11.
5. Abū Ḥāmid al-Ghazālī, Kitāb al-arba’īn fī uṣūl al-dīn, ed. M. Mustafā .. Abū
al-‘Ilā (Cairo: Maktabat al-Jundi, 1970), 62.
6. Abū Ḥāmid al-Ghazālī, Iḥyā' ‘ulūm al-dīn, vol. 1, ed. ʻAbd al-Sabūr . Shāhīn
(Beirut: Markaz al-Ahrām lil-tarjamah wa-al-nashir, 1988), 25.
7. See al-Maqsad al-Asnā, al-Ghazālī’s commentary on God’s Most Beautiful
Names.
8. Al-Ghazālī, Iḥyā', vol. 4, 229-30.
9. Ibid, vol. 4, 398.
Further Reading
Al-Ghazālī, Abū Hāmid.
. ‘Al-Risalat al-Laduniyya (On the True Meaning of
Esoteric Knowledge).’ Translated by M. Smith. Journal of the Royal Asiatic
Society 70 (1938): 177-200, 353-374.
___________________. Council for Kings. Translated by F. Bagley. London:

Durham University Press, 1964.
___________________. Iḥyā' ‘Ulūm al-Dīn, 4 vols. Edited by ʻAbd al-Sabūr

.
Shāhīn. Beirut: Markaz al-Ahrām lil-tarjamah wa-al-nashir, 1988.
___________________. Kitāb al-arba’īn fī uṣūl al-dīn. Edited by M. Mustafā

..
Abū al-‘Ilā. Cairo: Maktabat al-Jundi, 1970.
___________________. On Disciplining the Soul and Breaking the Two Desires.

Translated by T. J. Winter. Cambridge: Islamic Texts Society, 1995.
___________________. The Faith and Practice of al-Ghazali. Translated by W.

M. Watt. Oxford: One World, 1998.
___________________. The Remembrance of Death and the Afterlife. Translated

by T. J. Winter. Cambridge: Islamic Texts Society, 1989.
Binder, L. ‘Al-Ghazali’s Theory of Islamic Government.’ The Muslim World 45

(1955): 229-241.
Griffel, Frank. Al-Ghazali’s Theological Philosophy. Oxford: Oxford University

Press, 2009.
Ormsby, E. Theodicy in Islamic Thought. Princeton: Princeton University Press,

1984.
Sherif, M. A. Al-Ghazali’s Theory of Virtue. Albany, NY: SUNY, 1975.
Watt, W. M. Muslim Intellectual: A Study of al-Ghazzali. Edinburgh: Edinburgh

20
Abū al-Walīd ibn Rushd al-Qurtubī 1
(520-596AH/1126-1198CE)
Tengku Ahmad Hazri
Ibn Rushd of Cordoba was a leading fifth-century AH/twelfth-century

CE philosopher and jurist from al-Andalus, Spain. Famed from his
knowledge and wisdom, his fellow al-Andalusian, the Sufi master Ibn
‘Arabī (d.638/1240), once described him as “a great master of reflection
and philosophic meditation.” Even in the West, where he was known as
Averroes, he gained a considerable reputation, the Christian theologian
Thomas Aquinas (d.1274) saying of him that, if Aristotle was ‘the
Philosopher’, Ibn Rushd was ‘the Commentator’.2
Born in Cordoba in 520/1126, Ibn Rushd came from a family of
renowned Mālikī scholars. His grandfather in particular, Ibn Rushd al-
Jadd (d.520/1126), had been a respected Mālikī jurist and “played an
important role in the opposition of his city to Almoravid power.” Indeed,
Ibn Rushd was born just as Cordoba began to undergo a transition from
Almoravid (Ar. al-Murābiṭūn) power, with its strictly legalistic approach to
Islam, to the more esoterically-orientated Almohads (Ar. al-Muwahhidūn),
. .
led by one Ibn Tumart (d.ca.522-525/1128-30). Ibn Tumart himself was
a reformist of sorts: he stressed tawḥīd (the Oneness and Unity of God)
coupled with personal piety and purification of the soul. This theological-
philosophical backdrop had a profound influence on Ibn Rushd, as one
notices in the connections he makes between legal and philosophical/
theological views.3
Ibn Rushd’s family background ensured that he received an intensive
education in the traditional religious sciences, conducted at the feet of
al-Andalus’s leading jurists. One of Ibn Rushd’s later biographers, Ibn
‘Abbār (d.658/1260), noted that even as a child Ibn Rushd demonstrated
a predilection towards diraya (opinion-orientated tafsīr based on ijtihād,
or independent legal reasoning) rather than riwaya (tafsīr derived from

traditional sources). During this period, Ibn Rushd also studied medicine,
later composing the medical treatise, Kitāb al-kullīyyāt fī al-ṭibb (General
Studies on Medicine), which was influential in both the Arabic and Latin-
speaking worlds.4
Little is known about Ibn Rushd’s education in philosophy, the
discipline at which he would eventually excel. All we can say with
certainty is that he admired the Andalusian philosopher, Abū Bakr ibn
Bājja (d.532/1138), and maintained a close friendship with the latter’s
student, Ibn Ṭufayl (d.581/1185). It was Ibn Ṭufayl who introduced
Ibn Rushd to the Almohad caliph, Abū Ya’qūb Yūsuf (r.558-580/1163-
1184), as a learned and knowledgeable philosopher. After this flattering
introduction, the caliph reputedly asked Ibn Rushd to clarify the position
of the philosophers concerning the world – namely, whether it was eternal
or created in time. The shy Ibn Rushd, however, offered no answer,
whereupon the caliph turned to Ibn Ṭufayl and began discussing the
matter in abstruse and profound language. This impressed Ibn Rushd,
finally encouraging him to participate in the discourse. The caliph struck
Ibn Rushd as someone well-versed in Greek philosophy, especially the
works of Aristotle. Ibn Rushd soon realized that despite the caliph’s own
erudition, the latter found it lamentable that no qualified person had
yet translated the complex works of the philosophers into simple, plain
language. Two fruitful outcomes therefore came from this historic meeting:
Ibn Rushd was made a judge (qāḍī) in Seville while simultaneously being
commissioned to write commentaries on Aristotle, to make the latter’s
work easier to understand.
Ibn Rushd left behind a vast corpus of learning, ranging from his
commentaries on Aristotle to texts on language, politics and jurisprudence.
Most notable amongst his works are the Kitāb al-kashf ‘an manāhij al-adilla
and the Kitāb faṣl al-maqāl (which includes an important appendix, entitled
al-Ḍamīma). The first of these texts delved into various philosophical-
theological questions pertaining to God, the world and knowledge, while
the second dealt with the status of philosophy from the standpoint of
the Sharia. In this regard, Ibn Rushd defined philosophy as “the study
of existing entities insofar as they reveal the Maker.” This allowed him
to argue that philosophy is not only permissible in Islam, but obligatory.
Crucially, he developed a unique interpretation of sūra 3 āyat 5-7 of the
Qur’an. These verses concern the ‘ambiguous’ (mutashābihāt) passages of
the Qur’an, stating: “None knows their meaning except God. And those
who are firmly rooted in knowledge say…” Ibn Rushd postponed the stop
ABŪ AL-WALĪD IBN RUSHD AL-QURTUBĪ 159
in this extract to produce: “None knows their meaning except God and
those who are firmly rooted in knowledge. Say…” This permitted him to
frame human knowledge as an interpreter of the ambiguous verses – albeit
only for “those who are firmly rooted in knowledge” (rāsikhūn fī’l-‘ilm),
which he understood to refer to the philosophers (ḥukamā).
Ibn Rushd also sought to legitimise philosophy by establishing parallels
and analogies with the science of law (fiqh). Obedience to God, he stated,
should be both practical (i.e. legal) and intellectual (i.e. philosophical).
The latter, however, carried more importance than the former because
action should be guided by knowledge. For Ibn Rushd, jurists laid a
methodological foundation for judging human action according to Sharia,
while the philosophers sought to achieve the same in the domain of
thought and intellect. But while correct legal meaning could be divulged
to all, philosophical knowledge could only be disclosed to those qualified
to understand it. For the vast majority of mankind, the external meaning
of religion elucidated by the law should be sufficient.
Although Ibn Rushd ranked jurisprudence below philosophy, he did
not neglect it. Indeed, his ultimate (unfulfilled) aim was to compose a
work on uṣūl al-fiqh for the Mālikī School comparable to the definitive
Mudawwana of Ibn al-Qāsim (d.191/806). But despite failing to achieve
this, Ibn Rushd did manage to compose the Bidāyat al-mujtahid wa nihāyat
al-muqtaṣid (finished in 584/1188). Written over a period of twenty years,
Ibn Rushd used this text to critique an apparent over-reliance on taqlīd
(imitation) amongst jurists:
We find the so-called jurist of our time believing that the one who
has memorized the most opinions has the greatest legal acumen.
Their view is like the view of one who thought that a cobbler is he
who possesses a large number of shoes and not one who has the
ability to make them. It is obvious that the person who has a large
number of shoes will someday be visited by one whose feet the shoes
do not fit. He will then go back to the cobbler who will make shoes
that are suitable for his feet. This is the position of most of the faqihs
of these times.
Through the Bidāyat, therefore, Ibn Rushd intended to highlight the
importance of ijtihād. He did so by discussing scholarly disagreement
(ikhtilāf) – that is, diversity of opinion. In the introduction to the
Bidāyat, he explained that his purpose was to “give an inventory of the
juridical decisions on which scholars are in agreement, and those on
which they [have] disagreed, by recourse to those principles and rules
which are regarded as fundamental.” This process culminated in the text’s

concluding chapter, where Ibn Rushd argued that the various rulings of
Sharia – or more specifically, of the legal sunan (norms) – were designed
to serve specific end-goals, such as respect, gratitude, temperance, justice,
balance and individual integrity. Thus, by taking diversity of opinion as his
subject matter, Ibn Rushd was able to evolve a method of extracting the
underlying principles of the law in order to ascertain the reasoning process
underlying those rulings – an approach not unlike that of the maqāṣid al-
sharī’a (higher objectives of Sharia).
According to Yasin Dutton, the Bidāyat is Ibn Rushd’s attempt “to
impose a rational structure” on the discipline of fiqh, which by his time
had developed into a confusing mass of linguistic detail, concerned
with endlessly discussing the meaning of words. Dutton noted that the
text demonstrates Ibn Rushd’s conviction that “difference of opinion is
inevitable when dealing with the interpretation of language.”5 The Bidāyat
also shows that Ibn Rushd considered conscious thought (naẓar) as
necessary, not only for a complete understanding of Islam’s tenets, but also
for its practical application. Despite his proclivity for general principles,
however, Ibn Rushd stressed the inviolability and integrity of the Qur’an
and Sunna, merely arguing that they should be viewed holistically.
Returning to Ibn Rushd’s work on philosophy, his well-known
commentaries helped develop new and novel interpretations of Greek
philosophy, shaping both Arab and (particularly) European perceptions
of the subject. Concerning political order, for example, Ibn Rushd utilised
both Aristotle’s Nichomachean Ethics and Plato’s Republic to locate the
origins of political order in human nature, i.e. in man who, as a “political
animal,” is only capable of realising his true nature in a political setting,
specifically the city (madīna).6 Following Plato, Ibn Rushd argued that
there are many different types of city, the arrangement of each following
the arrangement of the soul – that is, divided into rational, volitional and
appetitive faculties. According to Ibn Rushd, the best type of city is the
democratic city (al-madīna al-jamā’iyya): “All the arts and dispositions
emerge in this city, and it is so disposed that from it may emerge the
virtuous city and every one of the other cities.”7 The democratic city is
“the one of which most of the multitude hold…is the city to be admired,
for every man asserts on the basis of unexamined opinion that he deserves
to be free.”8 Cities only become democratic, however, after their basic
needs have been fulfilled, essentially emerging from the ‘city of necessity’.
Concerning the ‘virtuous city’ (that is, the supreme form of the democratic
city), Ibn Rushd compared it to the regimes of the Rightly Guided Caliphs
(al-Khulafā al-Rāshidūn). He challenged the rulers of his own time, the

Almoravids and Almohads, to live up to their example.
Ibn Rushd died in 596/1198 in Marrakesh. Ibn ‘Arabī described how
“while his coffin which contained his remains had been loaded on the
side of a beast of burden, his works had been placed on the other side in
order to counterbalance it.”9 Since his death, many tributes have been paid
to him throughout the Islamic world. Ibn Abī Uṣaybi‘a (d.668/1270),
for example, in his Ṭabaqāt al-aṭṭibā’ wa tārīkh al-ḥukamā’, said, “He was
the peerless authority of his time in the Law and knowledge of juristic
differences, and he excelled in medicine...speculative theology, and
philosophy.”10 Al-Dhahabī (d.748/1348), the Shāfi’ī jurist and historian,
in his Siyar a’lām al-nubalā’ remarked that, “No one of his scholarly
perfection, his erudition, or his high manners was ever raised [again] in
Andalus.”11 The famous biographer, Ibn Farhūn . (d.799/1397), in his al-
Dībāj al-mudhahhab fī ma’rifa a‘yān ‘ulamā’ al-madhhab remarked that,
“He was of exemplary modesty...he gained eminence in his life through
the office of judge in Cordoba, and although kings held him in great awe
and respect he never sought after honour or material gain,”12 while Ibn
al-‘Imād (d.1089/1679), in his Shadharāt al-dhahab, states, “He excelled
in the Law, heard hadith, mastered medicine, and embraced speculative
theology and philosophy until his erudition became proverbial in the
latter.”13
These accolades notwithstanding, Seyyed Hossein Nasr has highlighted
how Ibn Rushd’s fidelity to the Aristotelian corpus, combined with his
critique of al-Ghazālī’s famed Tahāfut al-falāsifa, served to weaken his
influence in the Islamic world. As a consequence, he was probably more
influential in Christian Europe, where his ideas were popularised by many
leading figures, including Thomas Aquinas, Siger of Brabant (d.ca.1284)
and Dante Alighieri (d.1321). Indeed, Dante was so fond of Ibn Rushd
that, in his Divine Comedy, he excused him from the depths of Hellfire,
placing him in Limbo alongside other “righteous pagans.”
But ‘Latin Averroism’ was not always faithful to the original intention of
Ibn Rushd. Most notably, whereas Ibn Rushd advocated harmony between
philosophy and religion, holding that one truth could be explicable in
many ways, Latin Averroists adopted a theory of ‘double truth’, separating
the two disciplines and ultimately facilitating the secularisation of the
West. Nevertheless, and whether in its intended form or not, his influence
remained. Even in the modern world, Ibn Rushd is still paraded as a figure
of enlightenment. For example, the former United Nations Secretary-
General, Boutros Boutros-Ghali (d.2016), observed that Ibn Rushd speaks
directly to the present when writing about the importance of the masses in
politics, the need to address their problems and their happiness, and the
necessity of organising the state along the principles of reason.14
Notes
1. I would like to acknowledge and thank Mohd Fariz Zainal Abdullah and
Ahmad Badri Abdullah for their help in preparing this article. May Allah
reward them with the best of rewards!
2. Henri Lauziere, The Making of Salafism: Islamic Reform in the Twentieth
Century (New York: Columbia University Press, 2015).
3. Dominique Urvoy, ‘Ibn Rushd,’ in History of Islamic Philosophy, ed. Seyyed
Hossein Nasr and Oliver Leaman (London: Routledge, 1995), 331.
4. Antony Black, The History of Islamic Political Thought (Edinburgh: Edinburgh
University Press, 2010), 120.
5. Yasin Dutton, ‘The Introduction to Ibn Rushd’s Bidayat al-Mujtahid,’ Islamic
Law and Society 1, no. 2 (1994): 188-205.
6. Black, History of Islamic Political Thought, 122-4. Ibn Rushd claims to have
been unable to capitalise on Aristotle’s Politics (a more practically-minded
extension of the Nichomachean Ethics) because he could not obtain a copy
of it. His use of Plato’s Republic was therefore designed to compensate for
its absence; it also discusses the various types of political regimes and the
constitutional transformations of one polity into another.
7. Ibn Rushd, Averroes on Plato’s Republic, trans. Ralph Lerner (New York:
Cornell University Press, 1974), 110.
8. Ibid, 111.
9. Cited in Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Three Muslim Sages (New York: Caravan
Books, 1964), 94.
10. Ibn Abī ‘Usaybi‘a,
. ‘Uyūn al-anbā’ fi ṭabaqāt al-aṭṭibā’, vol. 2 (Frankfurt:
Ma‘had Tārīkh al-‘Ulūm al-‘Arabiyya al-Islāmiyya, 1990), 75.
11. Al-Dhahabī, Siyar a‘lām al-nubalā’, vol. 21 (Beirut: Mawsu’ah al-Risālah,
1974), 307. The full list of these testimonies is available at http://kitaabun.
com/shopping3/article_info.php?articles_id=7. We thank Mohd Fariz Zainal
Abdullah for his help in verifying the sources.
12. Ibn Farhūn
. al-Mālikī, al-Dībāj al-mudhahhab fī ma’rifa a‘yān ‘ulamā’ al-
madhhab, vol. 2 (Cairo: Dār al-Turāt, 1976), 258.
13. Ibn al-‘Imād, Sharadhāt al-dhahab fī akhbar min Dhahab li-Ibn al-‘Imād, vol.
6 (Damascus: Dār Ibn Kathīr, 1976), 522-3.
14. Boutros Boutros-Ghali, ‘Foreword,’ in Averroes and the Enlightenment, ed.
Murad Wahbah and Mona Abousenna (Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books,
1996), 9.
Further Reading
Al-Dhahabī. Siyar a‘lām al-nubalā’. Beirut: Mawsu’ah al-Risālah, 1974.
Black, Antony. The History of Islamic Political Thought. Edinburgh: Edinburgh

Boutros-Ghali, Boutros. ‘Foreword.’ In Averroes and the Enlightenment, edited

by Murad Wahbah and Mona Abousenna. Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books,
1996.
Dutton, Yasin. ‘The Introduction to Ibn Rushd’s Bidayat al-Mujtahid.’ Islamic

Law and Society 1, no. 2 (1994): 188-205.
Ibn Abī ‘Usaybi‘a.

. ‘Uyūn al-anbā’ fi ṭabaqāt al-aṭṭibā’. Frankfurt: Ma‘had Tārīkh
al-‘Ulūm al-‘Arabiyya al-Islāmiyya, 1990.
Ibn al-‘Imād. Sharadhāt al-dhahab fī akhbar min Dhahab li-Ibn al-‘Imād.

Damascus: Dār Ibn Kathīr, 1976.
Ibn Farhūn
. al-Mālikī. al-Dībāj al-mudhahhab fī ma’rifa a‘yān ‘ulamā’ al-madhhab.
Cairo: Dār al-Turāt, 1976.
Ibn Rushd. Averroes on Plato’s Republic. Translated by Ralph Lerner. New York:
Cornell University Press, 1974.
Lauziere, Henri. The Making of Salafism: Islamic Reform in the Twentieth Century.
New York: Columbia University Press, 2015.
Nasr, Seyyed Hossein. Three Muslim Sages. New York: Caravan Books, 1964.
Urvoy, Dominique. ‘Ibn Rushd.’ In History of Islamic Philosophy, edited by Seyyed

Hossein Nasr and Oliver Leaman, 330-345. London: Routledge, 1995.
21
Muḥy al-Dīn Ibn ʿArabī
(560-638AH/1165-1240CE)
The great Andalusian scholar, Abū ʿAbd Allāh Muḥammad ibn ʿAlī al-
Ḥātimī al-Ṭā’ī, otherwise known by his honourific title Shaykh al-Akhbar
Muḥy al-Dīn ibn ʿArabī, is commonly remembered as a great Sufi master.
For centuries, his teachings have had a special attraction for those who
consciously enjoy the mysterious dimensions of God’s presence in human
experience. Seyyed Hossein Nasr has maintained that with the works of
Ibn ʿArabī the Muslim Ummah encountered a complete metaphysical,
cosmological, psychological, anthropological and doctrinal expression
of the Sufi tradition. Prior to Ibn ʿArabī, Sufi doctrines derived from
the saying of the Sufi masters, offering little theoretical metaphysical
exposition. Through Ibn ʿArabī’s work, however, the esoteric dimension
of Islam became explicitly formulated and expressed, enabling anyone to
contemplate it.1 This brief article aims to outline the life and thought of
this important thinker.
Ibn ʿArabī’s Early Life, Teachers and Spiritual Adventure

Born on 17 Ramaḍān 560AH/25 July 1165CE in the beautiful town of
Murcia, set inland from the Mediterranean Costa Blanca, between Valencia
and Almeria, Ibn ʿArabī’s spent his early life under the Almohad dynasty
(515-668/1121-1269). Ibn ʿArabī’s family was amongst the oldest, noblest,
and most pious of Arab lineages in Spain. His father’s family, for example,
was descended from the legendary Arabian poet, Ḥātim al-Ṭā’ī, while his
mother was from a noble Berber family with strong ties to North Africa.
After spending his early life in Murcia, in 578/1183 Ibn ʿArabī moved
to Seville, where he began pursuing his natural inclination towards all
MUḤY AL-DĪN IBN ʿARABĪ 165
things spiritual. While in the city, he met two female saints, Yasmin of
Marshena and Fātima. of Cordova, both of whom significantly influenced
the orientation of his life – especially Fātima,
. whom he would come to
consider his spiritual mother.
When he reached his twenties, Ibn ʿArabī left Seville and began
to travel throughout al-Andalus, including to Cordova, where he met
the famous philosopher, Ibn Rushd (d.595/1198). Later, Ibn ʿArabī
would recount a conversation between himself and Ibn Rushd, in which
they debated the limitations of rational perception; Ibn Rushd wished
to pursue an exclusively rationalistic path to truth, while Ibn ʿArabī
favoured a path that sought harmony between reason, mystical intuition
and revelation.
Ibn ʿArabī would continue to travel until 595/1198, ranging
throughout al-Andalus and into North Africa, as far as modern-day
Tunisia. While in Africa, he visited Almeria, centre of the mystical school
of Ibn Masarra (d.319/931) and Ibn al-ʿArif (d.535/1141). According
to Asin Palacious, Ibn ʿArabī received his formal initiation into Sufism
while in Almeria.2
In 598/1201, Ibn ʿArabī undertook the pilgrimage to Makkah, where
he remained for three years. It was during this period that he began
the composition of his magnum opus, Futūḥāt al-Makiyya (The Makkan
Illuminations). Leaving Makkah in 602/1205, Ibn ʿArabī proceeded
to travel throughout Egypt, Syria, Palestine, Iraq and Anatolia. While
in Egypt in 604/1207, he came into conflict with some local jurists,
receiving death threats as a result. He therefore returned to Makkah,
before travelling back to Anatolia. In the latter location he met his most
celebrated disciple, Ṣadr al-Dīn al-Qunāwī (d.673/1274), who would
become the main commentator and propagator of his work. From
Anatolia Ibn ʿArabī traveled eastward to Armenia, before heading south
again towards the Euphrates Valley and Baghdad. In Baghdad, he had
the chance to meet the famous Sufi master, Shihāb al-Dīn ʿUmar al-
Suhrawardī (d.632/1234).
During his many travels, Ibn ʿArabī became a renowned intellectual
and spiritual figure. Finally settling in Damascus, he spent the end of
his life writing, completing his monumental Futūḥāt, essentially a
diary recording his spiritual journey over the previous thirty years. In
638/1240, he breathed his last while still in Damascus.
The Vast Intellectual Legacy of Ibn ʿArabī

Ibn ʿArabī produced a large number of texts. In total, approximately eight
hundred written works are attributed to him – although only about one
hundred survive, mostly in the form of manuscripts kept in libraries across
both the Islamic world and Europe. These texts range from short treatises
and letters to monumental works like the Futūḥāt that cover a wide array
of subjects (including metaphysics, cosmology, psychology, Qur’anic
commentary and more). In this section, I will briefly review some of the
most important of Ibn ʿArabī’s texts, while also providing an idea of their
significance.
Beginning with the Futūḥāt al-Makiyya, Ibn ʿArabī completed the
first draft of this text in 629/1231, following it up with the final version
in 636/1238. Essentially a compendium of the esoteric sciences, it is
the largest of Ibn ʿArabī’s works, consisting of five hundred and sixty
chapters in thirty-seven volumes (usually published in between four and
eight volumes in modern times). In it Ibn ʿArabī discusses the principles
of metaphysics, the various sacred sciences, as well as his own spiritual
experiences. Additionally, the Futūḥāt also catalogues the lives and sayings
of earlier Sufis on matters like cosmological doctrine, alchemy, astrological
symbols, and other esoteric staples. It remains the main source on Islamic
metaphysics, with Sufis from across the world still studying it today.
The next significant text by Ibn ʿArabī is his Fuṣūṣ al-ḥikam (The Bezel
of Wisdom). Undoubtedly the most widely read of Ibn ʿArabī’s works,
Fuṣūṣ is something of a spiritual testament and deemed by many to be
the most effective summary of his teachings as a whole. The majority
of the work is concerned with the role of the different prophets in the
process of Divine revelation. According to Nasr, the title of the book is
a reference to each ‘bezel’ in the nature of the prophets, as those things
that allowed them to serve as the vehicle of Divine wisdom.3 According
to Ibn ʿArabi, the Divine revelation is ‘coloured’ by its recipients (i.e.
the prophets) who are themselves a Divine possibility contained within
a celestial prototype. There have been many commentaries on Fuṣūṣ al-
ḥikam, including by Ibn ʿArabī’s own disciple, Ṣadr al-Dīn al-Qunāwī.
In total, it is estimated that over fifty commentaries exist, most of them
still in manuscript form.
Tarjumān al-ashwāq (The Interpreter of Dreams) is another widely
read work by Ibn ʿArabī. A collection of exquisite Sufi poetry, Ibn ʿArabī
republished it himself with a commentary elucidating the underlying
meaning of some of the poetic symbols he used.
Beside these three major works, other important texts by Ibn ʿArabī
include Inshā’ al-dawā’ir (The Creation of the Sphere), ʿUqlat al-mustawfiz
(The Spell of the Obedient Servant), and al-Tadbīrāt al-Ilāhiyya (The
Divine Direction), all of which touch on the subject of cosmology. Other
works, such as Risāla al-khalwa (Treatise on the Spiritual Retreat), Hizb
al-wiqāya (Spiritual Counsel), and Ḥilya al-abdāl (The Pillars of Spiritual
Transformation), discuss the practical methods necessary for those who
want to travel the Sufi path. The Mishkāt al-anwār (Divine Saying) is Ibn
ʿArabī’s collection of 101 ḥadīth qudsī. There is also a Qur’anic commentary
attributed to Ibn ʿArabī and which touches on the various mystical aspects
of the Qur’an, including the symbolism of certain letters.
From a cursory survey of Ibn ʿArabī’s work, at least two distinctive themes
emerge: the introduction of imagination as an Islamic epistemological
reference and the celebration of religious diversity. I will now discuss each
of these in turn.
Imagination as an Epistemological Reference

Henri Corbin asserts that imagination plays a central role in Ibn ʿArabī’s
writings; Ibn ʿArabī consistently emphasises imagination (khayāl) as one
of Islam’s pivotal epistemology references for pursuing the acquisition of
truth and making sense of reality. For Ibn ʿArabī, this ‘epistemology of
imagination’ encapsulates an abstract intellectual distillation of mystically
perceived truth. Human reason, he claims, can only delimit, define, and
analyse. Although it has the ability to perceive distinctions between different
objects, allowing it to quickly grasp (for example) the incomparability of
the Divine, it cannot perceive God’s self-disclosure (tajallī) since God is
incomparable and transcendent. As such, and according to Ibn ʿArabī,
creative imagination is essential as a complement to the human ability to
rationalise and reason.
While discussing imagination as an epistemological reference, Ibn
ʿArabī also focuses on the ontological status of imagination. Some
researchers have suggested that Ibn ʿArabī’s use of khayāl more correctly
denotes ‘image’ than ‘imagination’, as the term is also used in his works
to designate mirror images, shadows, dreams, and visions. An image,
according to Ibn ʿArabī, brings together two different elements and unites
them into one while also maintaining the distinctions between them.
For instance, a mirror image is both the mirror and the reflected object,
but also neither. Therefore, for Ibn ʿArabī imagination is a process that
perceives notions as images that are simultaneously both true and false.
The Celebration of Religious Diversity

Ibn ʿArabī is also known as a celebrant of religious diversity. By arguing that
God is the source of all diversity throughout the cosmos (i.e. as its Creator),
Ibn ʿArabī has argued that all religious diversity is Divinely intended.
According to Ibn ʿArabī, religious plurality is the natural consequence
of two underpinning factors: God’s non-limited self-disclosure and the
nature of humanity’s receptivity to that self-disclosure. Thus, for Ibn
ʿArabī the diversity of religions results from the non-redundant plurality
of human souls; since religious traditions are manifested in the lives of
human individuals, the diversity of persons will naturally result in a
diversity of traditions. In other words, even though the Essence of God is
one, understandings of God’s self-disclosure will be diverse owing to the
wide array of perceptions amongst humanity. Moreover, according to Ibn
ʿArabī, since God’s self-manifestation never ends, understandings of that
manifestation will be infinite.
Even though Ibn ʿArabī’s approach tends to trivialise the differences
between religious affiliations, it is not relativistic. In his teachings, Ibn
ʿArabī consistently describes Islam and Sharia as the purest and most
correct form of belief and practice. He sees all revealed religions as lights;
the revealed religion of Muḥammad is, in comparison to other religions,
like the light of the sun amongst the stars.
Ibn ʿArabī’s hermeneutical approach to the interpretation of the
Qur’an is also relevant to his position on religious diversity. Each word
of the Qur’an, Ibn ʿArabī claims, has unlimited meaning. Thus, a correct
perusal of the text should bring readers to a new, distinctive understanding
in every reading. This assertion of the intrinsic and infinite potential of
meaning in the divine text should, if properly understood, promote an
awareness amongst people of faith that their understanding of the texts
cannot exhaust all possible interpretations. Through such an approach, a
meaningful inter-religious dialogue can be achieved.

Conclusion
It is very hard to find a Sufi born after Ibn ʿArabī who has not come under
his influence. Many subsequent, towering figures in Islamic mystical and
philosophical circles, including Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī (d.656/1258) and Mulla
Sadra (d.1050/1640), acknowledged their debt to the teachings of this
great Andalusian sage. In modern times, Ibn ʿArabī’s teachings continue
to be taught throughout the Islamic world, in places as diverse as India,
Egypt, Turkey and Iran. Even in the West, Ibn ʿArabī’s influence can be
identified, including in the work of Christian esoterics like Dante. This
truly makes him one of the ‘architects’ of Islamic civilisation.
Notes
1. Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Three Muslim Sages (New Tork: Caravan Books, 1975).
2. Miguel Asin Palacious, El Islam cristianizado. Estudio del sufismo a través de las
obras de Abenárabi de Murcia (Madrid: Ediciones Hiperión, 1990).
3. Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Three Muslim Sages.
Further Reading
Addas, Claude. Ibn ‘Arabi: The Voyage of No Return. Chicago: Islamic Text Society,
2000.
Nasr, Seyyed Hossein. Three Muslim Sages. New Tork: Caravan Books, 1975
Palacious, Miguel Asin. El Islam cristianizado. Estudio del sufismo a través de las
obras de Abenárabi de Murcia. Madrid: Ediciones Hiperión, 1990.
Yousef, Mohamed Haj. Ibn ‘Arabi: Time and Cosmology. Oxford: Routledge, 2008.
22
ʿIzz al-Dīn Ibn ʿAbd al-Salām al-Sulāmī
(578-660AH/1182-1263CE)
Abū Muhammad
. ʿIzz al-Dīn ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz ibn ʿAbd al-Salām al-Sulāmī
was born in 578AH/1182CE in Damascus and died in 660/1262 while
in Cairo. He was from the Moroccan tribe of Banū Sulaym. By the end of
his life, he would be counted as a major Muslim scholar who contributed
immensely to the fields of Islamic jurisprudence and its principles (fiqh wa
uṣūlihi). In particular, he promoted the idea of maṣlaḥa (public benefit)
within the ambit of Islamic law, ultimately establishing the science of
weighing between maṣlaḥa and mafsada (harm). He was amongst those
scholars who put their utmost into developing a theoretical edifice for
the higher objectives of Islamic law (maqāṣid al-sharīʿa). Beside his great
scholarly contributions to the Ummah, ʿIzz al-Dīn is also well-known for
his unwavering defense of the rights of the common people.
‘Izz al-Dīn’s Character and His Passion for Knowledge

The famed Egyptian scholar, al-Subkī (d.756/1355), reported in his
Ṭabaqāt al-Shāfiʿiyya that ʿIzz al-Dīn’s family suffered from poverty, thereby
denying him the chance to pursue formal learning while still young. Later
in life, however,ʿIzz al-Dīn seriously and earnestly took up the scholarly
cause, ultimately making significant contributions to all the subjects he
studied.
As reported by al-Subkī, ʿIzz al-Dīn started his academic journey by
memorising the Kitāb al-tanbīh wal-ishrāf (The Book of Notifications
and Verifications) by al-Masʿūdī (d.345/956). In addition, ʿIzz al-Dīn
ʿIZZ AL-DĪN IBN ʿABD AL-SALĀM AL-SULĀMĪ 171
regularly attended the study circles of famous scholars, benefitting from

their knowledge and gaining exposure to their ethical conduct. ʿIzz al-Dīn
elucidated on his determination to learn with other scholars when he said:
I will not be satisfied in a subject until I have completed its learning
under a certain teacher. I will not stop until the teacher tells me that,
‘You don’t need me anymore, keep busy [studying] with yourself.’
Instead, I usually remain with the teacher until the completion of
the subject.1
On another occasion, he described his devotion to scholarship as
follows:
It has been 30 years that I cannot fall asleep until I have completely
memorised chapters of knowledge by heart.2
ʿIzz al-Dīn studied under a number of prominent scholars, including
Sayf al-Dīn ibn ʿAlī ibn Abū ʿAlī ibn Muḥammad al-‘Āmidī (d.631/1233),
Baha al-Dīn ibn ʿAlī ibn al-Ḥasan ibn ʿAsākir (d.600/1203), Abū
Muḥammad al-Qāsim, and Jamāl al-Dīn al-Harastanī al-Shāfiʿī
(d.614/1217). He is also reported to have learnt about Sufism under the
famous mystics, Shihāb al-Dīn ʿUmar ibn Muḥammad al-Suhrawardī
(d.632/1234) and Abū al-Ḥasan al-Shādhilī (d.656/1258).
Even though he began his education rather late, ʿIzz al-Dīn managed to
master his subjects, eventually establishing himself as a respected scholar.
Due to his passion and perseverance, ʿIzz al-Dīn became an expert in nearly
all the religious sciences, from Islamic jurisprudence and its principles
(fiqh wa uṣūlihi) to Qur’anic exegesis, hadith studies, and Arabic language.
In particular, his expertise in the field of Islamic jurisprudence and its
principles became known far and wide. When he later lived in Egypt, for
example, a local scholar, al-Hāfiz al-Mundhirī, decided to refrain from
giving legal opinions of his own; he felt his knowledge was too inferior in
comparison to that of ʿIzz al-Dīn.
In addition to his well-known piety, spirituality and humility, ʿIzz al-
Dīn was an outspoken, fearless, and courageous scholar, known for his
uncompromising attitude towards maintaining Islamic principles. His
commitment to defending both the rights of God and of the people meant
he was loved and supported by the populace at large, while also eliciting
respect and honour from the rulers. Al-Subkī illustrates both ʿIzz al-Dīn’s
mastery of knowledge and his outstanding character as follows:
He is the Master [Shaykh] of Islam and Muslim people, one of their

leading scholars, a king of scholars. He is the leader of his time
without dispute, the one who promoted righteousness and prevented
wrongdoing in his time; an analyser of the reality of Sharīʿah and
its ambiguities, who is informed by its objectives. There is nobody
comparable to him, and anyone who has observed his character will
not find any resemblance in terms of knowledge mastery and piety,
in holding the truth and bravery, as well as in the strength of his
heart and tongue.3
Furthermore, ‘Izz al-Dīn was also known as an adherent of moderate
Sufism. Although initially amongst those who criticised and rejected the
teachings and practices of the Sufis, al-Suyūṭī tells us how ʿIzz al-Dīn
finally became involved in Sufism:
In the beginning, Shaykh ʿIzz al-Dīn was on the path of the jurists
who would hastily reject Sufism. At the time when Shaykh Abū
al-Hassān al-Shāziliy went to perform his pilgrimage and then
returned, he visited Shaykh ʿIzz al-Dīn and sent him regards from
the Prophet (PBUH). Shaykh ʿIzz al-Dīn then demonstrated his
gratification by attending the learning circles of Shaykh al-Shāziliy
and then became the one who promulgated positive appraisals of
the Sufis after fully comprehending their true path and attending
their events.4
A Courageous Advisor to the Rulers

Under the Ayyūbid rulers, Mālik al-Ashrāf Mūsā and Mālik al-Ṣāliḥ ʿImād
al-Dīn Ismāʿīl, ʿIzz al-Dīn was appointed head of Zawiyya al-Ghazāliyya,
a renowned learning institution in Damascus. He also became the Imam
and Khatīb
. of the Umayyad Mosque, the central mosque in the city. After
a period of time, Mālik al-Ṣāliḥ began to wage war against his cousin,
Mālik al-Ṣāliḥ Najm al-Dīn Ayyūb, the ruler of Egypt. This led him to
conclude an agreement with the Christian Crusaders, offering them safe
conduct and free passage to Damascus, where they could buy weapons and
food. This measure invited strong criticism from ʿIzz al-Dīn; presenting
his contention in his Friday sermon, he announced a legal opinion
prohibiting the selling of weapons to the enemy and of developing a close
relationship with them. In the sermon he also recited a prayer as follows:
“O Allah, grant this Ummah with a wise ruler, gratify therein those who are in
obedience, and put disgrace on those who are in grave sin.” He then concluded
his speech without saying a prayer for the Sultan, as was the usual practice.
Mālik al-Ṣāliḥ regarded this as disloyalty and imprisoned ʿIzz al-Dīn. Due
to the resulting public unrest, however, ʿIzz al-Dīn was soon released, only
to flee to Egypt.
ʿIzz al-Dīn arrived in Egypt in 639/1241 and was warmly welcomed by
Mālik al-Ṣāliḥ Najm al-Dīn Ayyūb, who appointed him Chief Justice of the
state and khaṭīb of the ‘Amr ibn al-‘Āṣ mosque. While holding the former
position, ʿIzz al-Dīn noticed an improper practice in the government,
related to the status of princes and their daily conduct. The crux of the
problem lay in the fact that the princes were originally slaves who had
been bought in large numbers to strengthen the position of the rulers.
They then emerged as the ruling clique, after which they became involved
in sales, marriages and other practices as if they were free individuals. This,
however, and according to ʿIzz al-Dīn, was contrary to the teachings of
Islam. ‘Izz al-Dīn therefore issued a legal opinion suggesting that, since no
one had made claim to own any of the princes, they were the property of
the state. Hence, they must all be sold and then freed by their new masters
before they could play their role in government.
This legal opinion once again soured ʿIzz al-Dīn’s relations with the
throne. It led to howls of protests, not just amongst the princes, but from
the Sultan himself who, although he dearly loved and respected ‘Izz al-
Dīn, deemed the latter’s opinion to be unacceptable. He therefore pleaded
with ʿIzz al-Dīn to reconsider, but the scholar insisted. In his anger, the
Sultan finally uttered some words against ʿIzz al-Dīn and which were
regarded as compromising the latter’s position. As a result, ʿIzz al-Dīn
put his belongings on his donkey and left Cairo. The people of Cairo,
however, strongly objected and also left the city in large numbers to follow
the scholar. Upon learning of this exodus, the Sultan immediately rode out
on his horse to catch up with the shaykh. After seeking forgiveness from
him, the Sultan successfully pleaded with ʿIzz al-Dīn to return to the city.
Upon returning to Cairo, ʿIzz al-Dīn continued to insist that the sale
of the slaves be put into immediate action. This angered the Crown Prince,
who rode with a number of officers to ʿIzz al-Dīn’s house in an attempt
to kill him. When ʿIzz al-Dīn’s son tried to warn his father against the
Crown Prince, asking him to escape, ʿIzz al-Dīn replied: “Move out from
my way, son. Your father is too humble to be given the honour of being a
martyr for God’s cause.” When ʿIzz al-Dīn encountered the Crown Prince,
he presented him with such a hard look that the Crown Prince reputedly
lost the ability to move his hand, thus making him drop his sword while
filling his eyes with tears. Finally, the Crown Prince asked the scholar to
make a prayer for him and agreed to the sale of the princes. He asked
about the procedure of sale, particularly about the question of who would
set the price and where the money should be spent. ʿIzz al-Dīn replied
that he would use the money himself to benefit the public. Therefore, all
the princes were gathered in the market, with ʿIzz al-Dīn himself calling
them out by name and asking prices for them. Each prince had made
arrangements with a friend or a relative to buy him. In this way, they were
all finally freed and able to function in their positions.
Based on these anecdotes, ʿIzz al-Dīn received his two renowned titles
‘The Sultan of Scholars’ (sulṭān al-ʿulamā’) and ‘The Seller of Rulers’ (baiʿ al-
mulūk). Many other anecdotes also display ʿIzz al-Dīn’s courage, firmness,
and dedication to truth and justice, without fear or favour, whenever he
made a stand on any issue.
ʿIzz al-Dīn’s Scholarship and His Contribution to Civilisation

ʿIzz al-Dīn wrote a large number of books in various fields, from
Qur’anic exegesis, to commentaries on the hadith, to theology, to Islamic
jurisprudence. For example, he wrote a complete commentary on the
Qur’an, entitled Tafsīr al-Qur’ān al-ʿAzīm, and which focused on the text’s
linguistic aspects in order to suggest an easier method by which to grasp
its meaning. However, his most valuable work in this field was his Al–
Ishārah ila al-ʿijāz fī baʿda anwāʿ al-majāz, more widely known as Majāz
al-Qur’ān. This text succeeded in gaining positive appraisals from many
scholars. He also wrote a summary of al-Mawardi’s exegesis, entitled al-
Naktu wa al-ʿuyūn.
On the subject of hadith, ʿIzz al-Dīn wrote four commentaries/
summaries of earlier works. One of these (now lost) was a summary of
Saḥīḥ Muslim. On other subjects, ʿIzz al-Dīn wrote a number of books
on Islamic belief (ʿaqīda) and theology (kalām). Titles within this
category include: Anwāʿ fī ʿilm al-tawḥīd, al-Farqu bayna al-islām wa al-
imān, Waṣiyya Shaykh al-ʿIzz, and Mulḥah fī al-iʿtiqād ahl al-ḥaq. This
last book explains ʿIzz al-Dīn’s doctrinal beliefs and answers many of the
false accusations hurled at him by his opponents. ʿIzz al-Dīn also wrote a
small set of short works on the issue of tawḥīd, collectively entitled Risāla
al-tawḥīd. These comprised a set of responses to certain fundamentalist
scholars who had exerted significant influence upon the governor of Egypt.
These treatises served as an important presentation of ʿIzz al-Dīn’s views
on the correct understanding of tawḥīd and the sound approach to the
contentious issue of Allah’s speech and sound (swt).
In the field of Islamic jurisprudence and its principles, ʿIzz al-Dīn

produced a significant number of works. His most valuable is known
as Qawāʿid al-ahkām fī maṣālīḥ al-anām. In it, ʿIzz al-Dīn discusses the
nature of Islamic law and jurisprudence, which he deemed to be a system
aimed at ensuring the realisation of man’s worldly and heavenly benefits.
To promote this idea as the main theme of his work, ʿIzz al-Dīn wrote:
Moreover, if we investigate the maqāṣid manifested in the Qur’an
and Sunnah, we realise that God has enjoined all that is good, from
the most trifling to the most momentous, and that He has forbidden
all that is evil, from the most insignificant to the most heinous. In
speaking of ‘good’, He is referring to the pursuit of benefit and the
prevention of harm, and in speaking of ‘evil’ He is referring to the
pursuit of harm and the prevention of what is beneficial.5
ʿIzz al-Dīn devoted significant parts of this book (as well as three others,
entitled Qawāʿid al-kubrā, Qawāʿid al-sughrā, and Shajārah al-maʿārīf wa
al-ahwāl wa ṣāliḥ al-aqwāl wa afʿāl) to discussing maṣlaḥa and mafsada. In
particular, ʿIzz al-Dīn developed a set of guidelines to help jurists resolve
situations where a maṣlaḥa conflicts with another maṣlaḥa, or a mafsada
with another mafsada, or even in cases where a maṣlaḥa contradicts a
mafsada. In all, ʿIzz al-Dīn suggested three solutions to these conflicts: i)
reconciliation (al-jamʿu) between the opposing elements; ii) prioritisation
(tarjīḥ) of the dominant elements; or iii) leaving the issue in question
undecided (tawaqquf). ʿIzz al-Dīn supplemented this rich discussion with
some practical examples encapsulating various day-to-day issues, thereby
helping clarify his argument.
Besides the above, ʿIzz al-Dīn is also widely known for his position
regarding the ability of human reason to identify earthly benefits (and in
contradistinction to otherworldly benefits, which are only known from
the Qur’an and hadith). It is actually very compelling that ʿIzz al-Dīn, as
a Shāfiʿī scholar and adherent of the Ashʿārite school of thought, would
promote such a significant role for human reason in the identification of
benefit and harm. In many parts of his work, he displays this means of
identifying benefits as follows:
Most sources of earthly benefit and harm are discernible through
human reason; moreover, the truth of this affirmation is recognised
by most divinely revealed laws. After all, there is no sensible person
who – even before the revelation of the divine Law – would fail to
perceive the attainment of pure benefit and the prevention of pure
harm.6
Whoever investigates the intents of the Law (maqāṣid al-sharī’a),

which are to achieve benefit and prevent harm, will arrive at a
conviction or recognition that this or that benefit must not be
neglected and this or that source of harm must be avoided. For even
if there is no consensus, text, or analogy which deals specifically
and explicitly with the source of benefit or harm in question, an
understanding of the Law itself necessitates such a conclusion.7
This position invited criticism from other theoretical jurists (uṣūliyyūn),
including the infamous scholar of maqāṣid, al-Shāṭibī. In his al-Muwafaqāt,
al-Shāṭibī presented his criticism of ʿIzz al-Dīn’s position on the role of
reason as follows:
As for his [i.e. ʿIzz al-Dīn’s] statement that benefits pertaining to
the afterlife may only be ascertained through divine revelation, it is
as he says. As for the view he expresses concerning earthly benefits,
however, it is not as he says in every respect…Moreover, even if, in
promoting earthly interests, the Law’s ultimate intent is to promote
those of the life to come, this is not inconsistent with the intent
of promoting the benefits of this earthly life so that, in this way,
people might conduct themselves in a manner which befits the
life to come. In this connection, Islamic law has promoted untold
numbers of [beneficial] behaviors and eliminated countless forms of
corruption.8
ʿIzz al-Dīn also discussed the wisdom and benefit – whether earthly or
heavenly – of performing prayer, of fasting, and of going on the Hajj. These
discussions are embedded in a number of his works, including Maqāṣid al-
ṣalāḥ (the objectives of prayer), Maqāṣid al-ṣaum (the objectives of fasting),
and Maqāṣid al-ḥajj (the objectives of pilgrimage). It is interesting to note
that ʿIzz al-Dīn’s employment of the term maqāṣid (objective) in the titles
of these works shows his commitment to uncovering the teleological
aspects of the discussed acts. For instance, in his Maqāṣid al-ṣaum he
illustrates the objectives of fasting as follows:
To lift the level of faith within people who perform the act, to abort
grave sins, to fight against temptations, to offer alms for the needy,
to enhance obedience and to be grateful to the All-Knower of the
hidden matters as well as to refrain from vices against the Lord.9
ʿIzz al-Dīn was also a strong opponent of blind imitation (taqlīd) within
fiqh. He viewed it as unacceptable for any jurist to blindly support weak
opinions from within his own school of fiqh, so much so that evidence
to the contrary from the Qur’an and hadith were neglected. According
to him, jurists of this sort violated their positions as true scholars by
promoting inaccurate and peculiar interpretations of sources in order to
support the opinions of their Imams.
ʿIzz al-Dīn’s legacy falls under three main themes. First, he left an
intellectual legacy favouring the promotion of openness as a means of
fostering creative and innovative thinking amongst scholars searching for
new ideas and solutions to social issues. Secondly, ʿIzz al-Dīn’s intellectual
legacy also favoured exploring the more pragmatic dimensions of Islamic
law, dealing with people’s daily lives. In this regard, he expounded the
notion of benefit as a focal point of the law and developed the maxims
of weighing the position between benefit and harm. Turning to the third
theme, this is sociopolitical: ʿIzz al-Dīn was an early prototype for civil
movements in Muslim society. This is illustrated by his support of the
voices of the people: ʿIzz al-Dīn not only gained the support of the people,
but also represented their voices to the ruling powers. These efforts helped
determine how the aspirations of society could be diligently observed by
the government. As such, and to summarise, there are three important
elements to ʿIzz al-Dīn’s contributions which, together, denote the building
blocks of a civilised Muslim community: openness, guided pragmatism,
and civil rights.
Notes
1. Tāj al-Dīn al-Subkī, Ṭabaqāt al-Shāfiʿiyya al-kubrā, ed. Mahmūd Muhammad
.
al-Tanāhī and ʿAbd al-Fattāh. Muhammad
. al-Halwa (Beirut: Dār Ihyā Turāth
al-ʿArabiyya, 1964), 8, 212.
2. Ibn Hajar al-ʿAsqalābī, Rafʿu al-Iṣrā’ ʿan Qudāt Misr, . ed. ʿAlī Muhammad
.
ʿUmar (Cairo: Maktaba al-Khānijī, 1998), 2, 352.
3. Cf. Al-Subkī, Ṭabaqāt al-Shāfiʿiyya, 8, 609.
. Ḥusn al-muhādara
4. Jalāl al-Dīn al-Suyūtī, . . fī tārīkh Misr
. wa Qāhera, ed.
Muhammad
. Abū Fadl
. Ibrāhīm (Cairo: Dār Ihyā’ Kutub al-ʿArabiyya, 1967),
1, 314.
5. ʿIzz al-Dīn ibn ʿAbd al-Salām, Qawāʿid al-ahkām fi masālīh
. al-anām, (Beirut:
Dār Jīl, 1980), 2, 189.
6. Ibid, 1, 5-7
7. Ibid, 2, 189
8. Abū Ishāq
. Ibrāhīm ibn Mūsā Al-Shātibī,. Al-Muwafaqāt fī usūl
. al-sharīʿa, ed.
ʿAbd Allāh Darrāz (Beirut: Dār al-Maʿrifa, 2002), 1, 30
9. ʿIzz al-Dīn ibn ʿAbd al-Salām, Maqāsid . al-saum,
. ed. Iyyād Khālid
(Damascus: Dār al-Fikr, 1995), 10. Other titles ‘Izz al-Dīn composed in this
genre include: Ahkām al-jihād wa faḍā’ilihī, al-Targhīb fī ṣalāḥ al-raghā’ib al-
mauḍuʿa, al-Fawā’id fī ikhtiṣār al-maqāṣid (or Qawāʿid al-ṣughrā), Manāsik
al-ḥajj, al-Imām fī bayān adillāh al-ahkām, al-Fatāwā al-maṣriyya, al-Fatāwā

al-muwāṣilah, and al-Ghāyah fī al-ikhtisār. nihāya al-matlab fī dirāya al-
mazhab lil Imām al-Haramayn. Most of his writings are still in manuscript
form, having never been published.
Further Reading
ʿAbd al-Muʿtiy Farūq. Al-ʿIzz ibn ʿAbd al-Salām sulṭān al-ʿulamā’. Beirut: Dār
Kutūb al-ʿIlmiyya, 1993.
Ali, Syed Rizwan. Sulṭān al-ʿUlamā’ al-ʿIzz ibn ʿAbd al-Salām: A Great Muslim
Jurist & Reformer. New Delhi: Adam Publishers & Distributors, 1998.
Burkani, Umm Nail. Al-Ijtihād al-maqāsidiyya

. inda al-ʿIzz ibn ʿAbd al-Salām.
Kuala Lumpur: IIUM, 1999.
Syalābī, Mahmūd. Hayāh sulṭān al-ʿulamā’ al-ʿIzz ibn ʿAbd al-Salām. Beirut: Dār
al-Jīl, 1992.
Zuhaily, Muhammad
. Mustafa.
.. Al-ʿIzz ibn ʿAbd al-Salām sulṭān al-ʿulamā’ wa baʿi
al-mulūk, al-dāʿiyya, al-muslih,
. . al-qādī,
. al-usūlī, al-mufassir. Damascus: Dār
al-Qalam, 1998.
23
Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī
(603-672AH/1207-1273CE)
Abdul Karim Abdullah
Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī, a Persian mystic poet, lived during the closing years
of the ‘Abbāsid caliphate (132-656AH/750-1258CE), the Golden Age
of Islamic civilisation. Born in 603/1207, in Khurasan, present-day
Afghanistan, his life began three years after the end of the Fourth Crusade
and twelve years before the Mongol invasion of Muslim lands. He died
in 672/1273, fifteen years after the destruction of Baghdad in 656/1258.
On account of the beauty of his poetry, Rūmī’s work is popular
amongst both Muslims and non-Muslims. His works have been translated
into twenty-three languages and have sold in the millions of copies. He has
fans all over the world and is the best-selling poet in the US. In the Muslim
world, his work occupies a place comparable to that of Shakespeare in the
English-speaking world. Indeed, due to its linguistic excellence, spiritual
erudition and depth, his major work, the Masnavi, has often been referred
to as the Qur’an of the Persian language. The appeal of the Masnavi
transcends tribal distinctions, communal proclivities and differences of
colour and creed. In comparison to legalistic expressions of Islam, Rūmī’s
poetry is attractive and articulate. He focuses on the human condition,
which may be characterised as the ‘separation’ of humankind from God,
or what can be termed its spiritual alienation.
Rūmī combines Islamic mysticism with artistic experimentation. Rūmī
saw himself as a teacher and a preacher. While meditating and composing
poetry, which he dictated, Rūmī would whirl. His work displays optimism,
playfulness, humour, and deep longing.
Rūmī’s Life and Historical Context

Rūmī lived during a traumatic period of history, when several major
assaults occurred against the Muslims, both from the east and the west.
Five crusades (the Fifth to the Ninth, dating from between 609/1213 and
670/1272) and the Mongol invasions all took place during his lifetime.
Indeed, the intensity of his work may be a reflection of the turbulence he
lived through.
In 615/1219, when he was twelve years old, Rūmī’s family fled the
approaching Mongol armies. Travelling through Baghdad, Makkah,
and Damascus, they finally settling in Konya, Asia Minor (present-day
Turkey). Konya at that time was part of the Seljuk Sultanate of Rūm –
‘Rūmī’ means ‘of Rūm’. In Konya, Rūmī’s father worked as a teacher at a
local madrassa (religious school). In his twenties, Rūmī studied in Aleppo
and Damascus. He married in 622/1225, at the age of eighteen. When his
father died six years later, Rūmī replaced him as the local teacher. In all,
he had four hundred students. When Rūmī’s work came to the attention
of Sultan ‘Alā’ al-Dīn Kayqubād (r.617-635/1220-1237), who became
his ardent supporter, Rūmī’s fame spread.1 Rūmī stayed in Konya for the
remaining fifty years of his life.
Rūmī and Sufism

Within Islamic civilisation, Rūmī falls under the rubric of Sufism, also
known as taṣawwuf or mysticism. At the other end of the spectrum
one finds theology, exegesis, and jurisprudence. Like other Sufis, Rūmī
emphasised sincerity. Rūmī wrote that “everything beautiful reflects the
glory of God.”
Sufism offers an intuitive approach to Islam, in contrast to doctrinaire
methods. Where the Sharia regulates external behaviour, Sufism
concentrates on spirituality. In this way, Sufism serves to moderate zealous
displays of Islam. Sufis see true spirituality as extending beyond the
performance of ritual. After attaining a level of enlightenment, the mystic
continues to seek a higher awareness. Seeking the pleasure of God provides
the Sufi with an incentive to continue his journey.
The term Sufi comes from the Arabic ṣafā, which means ‘purity’. Sufis
are known for meditating on the attributes (ṣifat) of God, in particular
His Majesty (ṣifat al-jalāl) and Beauty (ṣifat al-jamāl). Sufis are concerned
with how a person can come ‘close’ to God. Confirmation that a ‘closeness’
between humanity and God is possible comes from the Qur’anic verse
JALĀL AL-DĪN RŪMĪ 181
4:125, which states that God “did take Abraham for a friend [khalīl].”
This ‘closeness’ is typically achieved by means of meditation and the
remembrance (dhikr) of God.2
The practice of ritualised dhikr among Rūmī’s Sufi followers (known
as the Mevlevi Order) is known as sema. It includes recitation, singing,
instrumental music, dance (Sufi whirling), meditation, and trance. The
purpose of sema is to restore one’s original purity (or fiṭra) by way of a
spiritual awakening. Because of its tolerance and acceptance of diversity,
this form of Sufism offers a non-coercive approach to spirituality in
contrast to other, mostly ritualised manifestations of ‘religiosity’. In
particular, the sema of Rūmī’s followers contrasts sharply with the fanatical
manifestations of ‘religiosity’ currently gaining notoriety with groups like
Jabhat al-Nusra and ISIS.
Shams-i-Tabrīzī
Rūmī was influenced by Shams-i-Tabrīzī (d.646/1248), a charismatic
wandering dervish. They met in 642/1244, when Shams was 60 and
Rūmī was 38. During his lifetime, Shams had travelled extensively and
interacted with many Sufis. When he encountered Rūmī, the latter
invited him into his house. The two fasted for forty days and subsequently
lived as devout Muslims for more than a year. Legend has it that Shams
possessed miraculous powers. Under his influence, Rūmī began a spiritual
journey from theology to mysticism, from being a Mufti to becoming
a Sufi. “I used to recite prayers. Now I recite rhymes and poems and
songs,” Rūmī said (ghazal 2:351). In short, after befriending Shams,
Rūmī became a mystic and began incorporating poetry, music and dance
into his practice of Islam. Over a thirty-year period, between the ages of
37 to 67, Rūmī also wrote many mystical poems, including his magnum
opus, the Masnavi.
However, Shams left Rūmī’s home after less than a year and a half; he
was made to feel less than welcome by some of Rūmī’s relatives, who had
difficulty accepting what they viewed as ‘eccentric’ practices. As a result,
Rūmī became disconsolate. In response, his family finally sent Rūmī’s son,
Sultan Valad, to implore Shams to return. By that time, Shams had settled
in Syria. After receiving Rūmī’s son, however, Shams returned to Konya in
1247.3 Nevertheless, over time Rūmī’s friends once again became averse to
Shams, again compelling him to leave, this time for good.
In addition to Shams, Rūmī was also influenced by the equally famous
Sufi, Farīd al-Dīn ‘Aṭṭār (d.ca.617/1220). He also had two additional
companions, Salaḥ al-Dīn Zarkub (d.657/1259) and Ḥusām al-Dīn

Chalabi (d.683/1284), who remained with Rūmī until his death.4
Rūmī expressed his ideas in the Masnavi and the Fi-he Ma Fih
(Discourses). His work gave rise to the Mevlevi Order, which lasted
until 1344/1925, when it was abolished by Kemal Ataturk in his zeal for
‘progress’. Nevertheless, in many parts of the world, including the West,
readers have remained captivated by Rūmī’s work, ensuring its survival.
Rūmī on Education
According to Rūmī, the aim of education is spiritual awakening. The
Qur’an states that God does not change the condition of a people until
they change what is in themselves (13:11). In other words, true reform
begins from within. It takes place ‘from the bottom up’, rather than ‘from
the top down’. Spiritual awakening also requires the practice of virtue and
the rejection of vice. Education obliges humanity to undergo a process
of purifying the soul (tazkiya al-nafs). Purification is required on account
of humanity’s proclivity to follow its desires. For Rūmī, the challenge of
education is to harmonise humanity’s inclinations and obligations.
Rūmī also taught the need to obtain control over one’s self as a
requirement for approaching nearer to God. This required spiritual
discipline. To help achieve this, Rūmī said that education needed to address
both the intellect (‘aql) and the heart (qalb). The intellect was required for
the purpose of appreciating the ‘signs of God’, the ‘heart’ for internalising
knowledge.
Also central to Rūmī’s concept of education was the idea of the ‘Perfect
Man’ (al-insān al-kāmil). For Rūmī, perfection was attainable through
virtues such as piety, justice, compassion, truthfulness, sincerity, patience
and courage. The Prophet Muḥammad, Rūmī said, as the exemplification
of the Perfect Man, continues to serve as the best example for humanity to
emulate in this regard (Qur’an, 33:21).
Ultimately, Rūmī emphasised that humanity develops its spirituality
and its talents by means of effort. It is through struggle (jihād) that
humanity realises its potential. Jihād is not limited to armed struggle but
includes, first and foremost, a striving for self-improvement and achieving
mastery over one’s self, known as the greater jihād.
The Masnavi
Rūmī’s Masnavi is essentially a collection of meditations on virtues and
vices. It is addressed to all humanity, not just Muslims. In it, Rūmī
illustrates each of the virtues and vices using stories, parables, and
allegories. Ultimately, the text seeks to restore the equilibrium (mizan)
between spiritual and physical existence. To do this, it emphasises
inclusivity, peace and tolerance. These qualities, the text states, could
help avert a clash of civilisations, and even bring about an alliance of
civilisations. By promoting peace in this manner, Rūmī contributes to
inter-religious and inter-cultural harmony.
Later on in history, the Masnavi would contribute towards a revival
of Indian Sufism, achieved in the face of competition from Buddhist
and Vedantic ideas. By encouraging the reading and writing of poetry
and literature inspired by the Qur’an, the Masnavi promoted a balanced
understanding of Islam in India. Indian reformers who drew on it
emphasised the ethical ideals of Islam and concentrated on the betterment
of the people. In this way, they also contributed to the Islamic educational
system in India at that time.
More recently, the Masnavi has influenced the thought of such
outstanding scholars as Syed Ahmad Khan (d.1316/1898), founder of
Aligarh University, and Muhammad Iqbal (d.1357/1938), the intellectual
father of modern-day Pakistan. Iqbal expressed his thoughts on the text
in his well-known Urdu poem, ‘The Sage Rūmī and His Indian Disciple.’
Rūmī’s Modern-day Appeal

Given the uneasy relationship between Islam and the West, some may find
it hard to understand how Rūmī, a Muslim who lived eight hundred years
ago, could become the best-selling poet in twenty-first-century America.
We do not, however, have to look far for the answer.
Materially, modern-day humanity is generally – although not universally
– well provided for. Spiritually, however, it experiences deprivation.
Humanity’s lifestyle, while possibly characterised by a ‘high’ standard of
living as measured by per capita income, at the same time offers a low
quality, spiritually impoverished life. This manifests itself in (for example)
the demise of the family, high divorce rates, high rates of abortion, and
high rates of crime. The condition of modern-day humankind can be
described as being distanced from an important part of reality: its own
spirituality.
Problems always arise as a result of adopting a flawed methodology

for pursuing reality. In such cases, liberation from misconception requires
adopting a better approach. What is required is to find the truth – not only
truth in the ordinary sense, but also truth in the transcendental, spiritual
sense. In other words, humanity needs to find its bearings. It needs to
be oriented. To assist humanity in this search for truth, God endowed it
with intelligence. Assuming that humanity avails itself of this gift, the
application of intellect should help it distinguish truth from falsehood.
Also, there are many signposts along the way – the signs (āyāt) of God.
The challenge is to take note of them and act accordingly. It is in helping
humanity to re-establish its connection with spiritual reality, to restore
the balance between its spiritual and material existence, that Rūmī’s work
becomes useful.
Love of Truth
Rūmī reminds us of the need to love truth (ḥaqīqa). A love of truth
manifests itself not only in a subjective sense, but also in a transcendental
form, as the highest truth. But, while Rūmī calls his readers to the truth,
he also provides them with a method of discovering it: Sufism. By means
of the search for truth, humanity becomes reconciled to God and, by
accepting the truth, overcomes its spiritual alienation. Rūmī, like many
others before and after him, found the way to truth – in particular, the
highest truth – by means of revelation, specifically through the Qur’an.
The Qur’an alerts humanity to the many signs of God, both within itself
and in the world of nature, and promises the righteous the “home of the
hereafter.” The Qur’an refers to God as the “Light of the heavens and the
earth” (24:35) and teaches that “in the remembrance of God hearts do find
their rest” (13:28). The challenge is therefore to find one’s way back to the
straight path (ṣirāṭ al-mustaqīm). This requires the ‘remembrance’ of God
and the following of His guidance. The ‘signs’ of God are everywhere, and
they are there to help humans ‘remember’, as they are by nature forgetful.
The signs can be found in the world of nature as well as in the world
‘within’ (51:20-1). The Sufi orders (or ṭarīqas) are designed to enable this
‘return’ or ‘reunion’ with God. As Rūmī says in the Masnavi, “He who
abides far away from his home is ever longing for the day he shall return”
(Book I, Prologue).
The Limitations of Rūmī’s Poetry

Like other poets, Rūmī made use of what is known as ‘poetic license’,
allowing him to take certain liberties not commonly open to others. This
was done in order to convey meaning while also achieving beauty. Often,
poets achieve beauty through the use of rhyme. This, however, presents a
risk: the poet may choose a word that rhymes in preference to a word that
expresses the intended meaning with a high degree of accuracy.
For example, Rūmī wrote three thousand poems to his ‘beloved’, but
it is not always clear whom or what he meant by the term. Sometimes he
seems to mean his worldly companion, Shams (Masnavi 1:25), while at
others he means the Prophet Muḥammad. At still other times, however,
Rūmī means God (Masnavi 1:111) and in yet other instances everything in
this world and the hereafter (Masnavi 6:3234). This ambiguity makes his
text hard to follow.
Conclusion
Rūmī’s poetry provides humanity – in particular modern-day humanity –
with a starting point for analysing its condition. This should help it fill the
spiritual void in its soul, caused in part by the – perhaps hasty – adoption
of new ways of thinking. Rūmī’s work gives us a much-needed pause to
reflect and, indeed, appreciate the spiritual manifestation of existence.
Reservations about poets and poetry have been voiced in the past.
Poets have been blamed for failing to tell the truth, for exaggerating,
and even for justifying licentious behaviour. The Qur’an itself contains a
powerful critique of poets: it describes poets as being under the influence
of “evil spirits.” It also asserts that poets have a tendency to lie, not least
to themselves (26:221-4), and that those who follow poets are “lost in
grievous error” (26:224). The Qur’an even implies that poets cannot be
trusted because, “they say what they do not do” (26:226).
Nevertheless, the Qur’an excludes from its disapproval, “those who
have attained to faith, and do righteous deeds” (26:227). Thus, the Qur’an
differentiates between two kinds of poets: righteous persons, and those
inspired by “evil spirits.” It hardly needs to be added which category of
poets Rūmī belongs to.
Notes
1. Ahmed Selahaddin Hidayetoglu, Mawlana Muhammad Jalal al-Din Rumi:
His Life and Personality (N.p.: Konya Province Directorate of Culture and
Tourism, 2010).
2. Masoud Ahmad Ariankhoo, Inter-Religious Peace and Harmony in Mawlana
Rumi and ‘Ayn al-Qozat Hamadani, IAIS Malaysia working paper (2015).
3. Hidayetoglu, Mawlana Muhammad Jalal al-Din Rumi.
4. William C. Chittick, The Sufi Doctrine of Rumi (Bloomington, IN: World
Wisdom Inc., 2005).
Further Reading
Ariankhoo, Masoud Ahmad. Inter-Religious Peace and Harmony in Mawlana Rūmī
and ‘Ayn al-Qozat Hamadani. IAIS Malaysia working paper 2015.
Bakar, Osman. ‘The Inculcation of Objective Values for Human Development

according to Rūmī’s Educational Philosophy.’ IAIS Bulletin Nos. 5-6 (2011-2):
12-13.
Chittick, William C. The Sufi Doctrine of Rumi. Bloomington, IN: World Wisdom
Inc., 2005.
Ciabattari, Jane. ‘Why is Rumi the best-selling poet in the US?’ BBC. 14 April
2015. Available at: http://www.bbc.com/culture/story/20140414-americas-
best-selling-poet
Hidayetoglu, Ahmed Selahaddin. Mawlana Muhammad Jalal al-Din Rumi: His

Life and Personality. N.p.: Konya Province Directorate of Culture and Tourism,
2010.
24
Taqī al-Dīn Ibn Taymiyyah
(661-728AH/1263-1328CE)
Mohd Fariz Zainal Abdullah
During fifteen centuries of highs and lows, the Islamic world has been
graced with certain individuals who are considered heirs to the prophets,
people who always stand up for their beliefs and strive to allow what is good
and forbid what is evil for the sake of Allah alone. These godly individuals
have been identified by their specific contributions, with some being
known as just and merciful rulers, others as brave military leaders, highly
intelligent jurists, eloquent theologians, prolific writers or historians. Some
are just normal individuals who sought to submerge themselves in the love
of their Creator, like the ascetics of old. Whether the illustrious subject of
this paper, Taqī al-Dīn Abū al-‘Abbās Aḥmad ibn ‘Abd al-Ḥalīm ibn ‘Abd
al-Salām ibn ‘Abd Allāh ibn al-Khadr . ibn Muḥammad ibn al-Khadr . ibn
‘Alī ibn ‘Abd Allāh ibn Taymiyyah, deserves to be considered as one of
these individuals is controversial.1
Revered and reviled in equal measure, the name Ibn Taymiyyah awakens
many hearts, both for and against him. Famously known by some as Shaykh
al-Islām, Ibn Taymiyyah’s influence on Islamic thought and jurisprudence
is unarguably all-encompassing. It is no exaggeration to state that the
history of Islamic thought can be divided into two: ‘Pre-Ibn Taymiyyah’
and ‘Post-Ibn Taymiyyah’. His thought and influence are so significant that
many modern-day scholars and every-day Muslims, whether they support
him or not, remain enthralled to his views. Followers and detractors
alike continue to discuss the influence of Ibn Taymiyyah’s thought and
actions. This is not only in abstract terms, but also with regard to the
practical issues of national harmony and cross-border security; the name
Ibn Taymiyyah is just as likely to trigger excitement and caution inside an
international airport as in a theology classroom. Perhaps because of this, a
plethora of books and papers have been written about him. Although this
perhaps makes it difficult to provide a fresh study of his personality, the
significance of his contributions to the renewal of theological discourse,
the reconciliation of reason and revelation, and the reinvigoration of
jihād and al-amr bi al-ma’rūf wa al-nahy ‘an al-munkar (bidding good and
forbidding evil) all make the brief biographical sketch presented by this
article both necessary and relevant to contemporary issues.
Early Life and Education

Ibn Taymiyyah was born on 10 Rabī’ al-Awwal 661AH/22 January
1263CE, in the city of Harran (modern-day Turkey). When he was aged
just seven, advancing Mongol armies forced his family to flee to Damascus.
A family of well-known Ḥanbalī scholars, it is said that they travelled only
at night, with their most precious possessions, their books, on a handcart.
Certainly, it is evident that Ibn Taymiyyah grew up in a family dedicated to
knowledge. His grandfather, for example, Abū al-Barakāt Majd al-Dīn ibn
Taymiyyah (d.653/1255), was the famous author of Muntaqā al-akhbār
(Selection of Messages), a compilation of legal hadith that later became
a standard textbook. Along with its commentary, Nayl al-awṭār sharḥ
muntaqā al-akhbār min aḥādīth Sayyid al-Akhyār (Fulfilment of Wishes,
Commentary on a Selection of Messages from the Sayings of the Lord
of the Virtuous Ones), written by Muhammad . al-Shawkānī (d.1834), it
is still taught in Islamic universities all over the world. In addition, Ibn
Taymiyyah’s father was Shihāb al-Dīn ‘Abd al-Ḥalīm ibn Taymiyyah
(d.682/1284), who upon his arrival in Damascus became a teacher at the
Great Mosque and the city’s chair of Ḥanbalī fiqh, a position he held until
the end of his life.
While growing up, Ibn Taymiyyah had little interest in sports and
other outdoor activities, preferring to remain consistently focused on the
acquisition of knowledge. Continuing his family’s legacy of scholarship,
Ibn Taymiyyah began his pursuit of knowledge by memorising the Holy
Qur’an, completing it by the time he was just seven. Subsequently, he
studied with his family members and at various study circles in the mosques
and madrasas of Damascus. He memorised the Musnad of Aḥmad ibn
Ḥanbal (d.241/855), the Sunan (Traditions) of Abū Dāwūd al-Sijistānī
(d.275/889), and the al-Jam‘ bayn al-ṣaḥīḥayn (Compilation of the Two
Ṣaḥīḥ) of Abū ‘Abd Allāh al-Ḥumaydī (d.488/1095), together with other
major books of hadith. By his teens, he was already prominent in so many
TAQĪ AL-DĪN IBN TAYMIYYAH 189
branches of knowledge that he stood head and shoulders above the rest of
the students in Damascus.
In short, Ibn Taymiyyah grew up in a dignified environment devoted
to knowledge and worship. He demonstrated a brilliance and intelligence
that amazed the prominent scholars of his time. He mastered not only the
religious sciences, but also logic, philosophy, arithmetic, linguistics and
comparative religion. It was said that he began to issue fatwas at the age
of just nineteen and, by age twenty-one, had replaced his father as teacher
at the Great Mosque of Damascus. Becoming well-known throughout the
Muslim world, he would deliver lectures from memory, with eloquent
speech and a measured pace. All the noble qualities associated with a
scholar were imbued in Ibn Taymiyyah’s personality.2
The Muslim World during the Time of Ibn Taymiyyah

The worst situations frequently bring out the best in a nation. During
Ibn Taymiyyah’s life-time, Muslim society was facing many problems,
both internal and external. Politically, the Muslims were being threatened
by two major forces: from the West, Muslims had to defend themselves
against Christian Crusaders, while from the East the Mongolian Tatars
were already pushing into the heart of the Middle East. Indeed, five years
before Ibn Taymiyyah’s birth, the Mongols had conquered Baghdad and
executed the caliph al-Musta’sim
. Billāh. The agony of this defeat, coupled
3
with the subsequent wide-spread destruction of Muslim lands, violently

impressed itself upon Ibn Taymiyyah. It undoubtedly helped shape his
uncompromising attitude towards his beliefs, and his unapologetic stance
towards his opponents.
Economically, the Middle East of Ibn Taymiyyah’s time was also in
crisis. The absence of political stability negatively impacted upon the
socioeconomic conditions of the entire region. People lived in fear of their
own security and the prices of goods (including basic foodstuffs) rose
so high that both Egypt and Damascus were gripped by food shortages.
Serious fire in 681/1283, agricultural disaster in 701/1303, earthquake in
702/1304 and massive floods in 717/1319 only added to these difficulties.4
In this midst of these societal pressures, a loss of faith and rationality
ensued; social turbulence was paralleled by chaos in religious discourse.
Moreover, the earlier expansion of Muslim states, coupled with the
advent of the Mongol invasions, had brought Islam into contact with
other religions and cultures. This resulted in the importation of foreign
concepts and philosophies (particularly grave worship), with many varying

Muslim groups and sects emerging, some of them closely associated with
the ruling elites. All of this caused Ibn Taymiyyah considerable distress; he
associated it with a serious decline in the ‘aqīda (creed) of the Muslims.
He therefore made it his mission to provide arguments after arguments
against the followers of these innovations (bid’a), turning himself into the
ultimate enemy of all those pseudo-scholars who held important positions
in government. In his eyes, he became a true reformer, conducting proper
iṣlāḥ for the sake of the Ummah.
A Positive or Negative Figure?5

Not everyone, however, sees Ibn Taymiyyah as a caller to iṣlāḥ and tajdīd
(renewal). Some, whether during his own life-time or subsequently, have
perceived him as a troublemaker. He has been labelled a difficult ideologue
who persistently tried to demolish the established beliefs of others and
go against the ruling government. Certainly, his life was full of trials and
tribulations stemming from these perceptions, with most of his later life
being spent in prison. Nevertheless, such views are perhaps uncharitable.
Thus, rather than a foe to rulers and his fellow scholars, Ibn Taymiyyah
was actually the archenemy of blind following (taqlīd) and innovation in
worship and knowledge. For example, when he first performed the Hajj in
689/1291, he found himself confronted with many blatant innovations in
worship. When he returned to Damascus in 690/1292, he therefore wrote
his Manāsik al-Ḥajj (Rituals of the Hajj), specifically designed to denounce
what he had seen in Makkah. It was from this point that many began
to recognise him as a highly knowledgeable scholar and an important
reformer, championing renewal in Islamic thought and practice – that is,
a scholar of iṣlāḥ.
When Ibn Tayimiyyah was appointed principal of the Madrasa
Ḥanbaliyya, the oldest and most respected school of Ḥanbalī fiqh in
Damascus, he wrote his Fatwā Ḥamawiyya al-kubrā (Legal Opinions for
the Great People of Hamah), a compilation of legal judgements intended
for the people of Hamah, in Syria. In this text, Ibn Taymiyyah explained
the Divine attributes of Allah according to the principles of the ahl al-
sunna wa al-jamā’a (People of the Traditions [of the Prophet] and the
Consensus [of the Ummah]) and the pious predecessors. Although many
scholars deemed this text to be very hostile to dominant Ashʿarī thought
and ilm kalām (scholastic theology), with some even claiming that Ibn
Taymiyyah’s fatwas could lead to anthropomorphism and false belief, after
many debates on the subject, his opponents eventually admitted he was

right. Likewise, when he wrote his creedal text, al-‘Aqīda al-wāsiṭiyya,
those scholars who initially accused him of having wrong beliefs ended up
acknowledging his innocence.
Other incidents from Ibn Taymiyyah’s life, however, paint a more
divisive picture. For example, in 691/1293 the Christian, ‘Assāf al-
Nasrānī,
. was found guilty of insulting the Prophet (peace be upon him),
with the people demanding that he be put to death. The judge, however,
gave him the choice of embracing Islam instead, which ‘Assāf promptly
did. But Ibn Taymiyyah strongly disagreed with this decision: he was of
the opinion that whosoever was found guilty of insulting the Prophet,
whether Muslim or not, must be put to death. This reaction resulted in
Ibn Taymiyyah being imprisoned in Damascus. In response, he wrote his
al-Ṣārim al-maslūl ‘alā shātim al-Rasūl (The Unsheathed Sword Drawn
against the Reviler of the Messenger), a comprehensive elaboration of his
thoughts on the subject, with an accompanying refutation of those who
disagreed with him.
Additionally, while resident in Cairo, Ibn Taymiyyah became well-
known for criticising the mystical concept of waḥdat al-wujūd (the unity of
being), as developed by the famous Sufi, Ibn ‘Arabī (d.638/1240). During
Ibn Taymiyyah’s life-time, this concept was very popular. His opposition to
it therefore resulted in his imprisonment once again, initially for a period of
one and a half years. Only months after his release, he was again accused of
criticising Ibn ‘Arabī, in addition to other aspects of Sufism. This time, the
Cairo authorities offered him a choice: imprisonment for an indeterminate
period or the opportunity to live freely in either Damascus or Alexandria,
provided that he refrain from issuing any fatwas or other opinions against
either Ibn ‘Arabī or Sufism in general. As a man of principle, Ibn Taymiyya
chose prison over a free life with an imprisoned tongue. He served his time
in Alexandria, under house arrest. During this period, he wrote al-Radd
‘alā al-manṭiqiyyīn (The Refutation of the Logicians), aimed at critiquing
those who (in his opinion) wrongly applied logic to the affirmation of
theology and divinity in Islam.
Upon his eventual release from house arrest, Ibn Taymiyyah travelled
to Cairo, where he remained for three years. During that time, the people
of Egypt benefited immensely from his presence, obtaining answers to
many important religious questions. Indeed, Ibn Taymiyyah was even
consulted by Sultan al-Mālik al-Nāsir. Qalāwūn (r.693-694; 698-708; 709-
741/1293-1294; 1299-1309; 1310-1341). During his time in Cairo, Ibn
Taymiyyah also developed his policy of Siyāsa shar’iyya, by which rulers
could determine the manner in which Sharia was administered. Many

books have since been written on Siyāsa shar’iyya, most of which (and
especially in the modern day) cite Ibn Taymiyyah, thereby underlining
his centrality to this discipline. Before him, discussions on Siyāsa shar’iyya
were limited to isolated chapters in fiqh books, hadith encyclopaedias, and
various other works designed to advise princes.
Intellectual Legacy
Even during his own life-time, Ibn Taymiyyah was a renowned public
intellectual. In Damascus, for example, he was accorded the rank of
mujtahid muṭlaq (absolute or independent mujtahid). His life was defined
by teaching, writing and striving in the way of Allah. He was not known
for wasting time or energy on things unrelated to knowledge. Indeed,
he did not marry until the last day of his life. Certainly, his dedication
to knowledge is evident through his works, which utilise hundreds of
references, including sayings from the Prophet’s Companions, from
the Successors (tābi’un), and books that were otherwise unknown to
others. As a mark of the high-regard in which he was held, none of his
contemporaries – whether friends or foe – questioned the legitimacy of his
unknown references; no one saw fit to deny his citations or accuse him of
making up quotations.
Ibn Taymiyyah often focused on writing books about the fundamentals
of religion, rather than on minor issues. One of his students, al-Imām al-
Dhahabī (d.748/1348), the famous Shāfi’ī historian and scholar of hadith,
reported that in all Ibn Taymiyyah wrote more than seven hundred titles.
It is perhaps for this reason, that he made many enemies. Thus, he gave
us Minhāj al-sunna al-nabawiyya (The Way of the Prophetic Tradition),
which attempted to refute the teachings of the Shi’a, the Muʿtazilites,
and the Batiniyya. As a result, these groups (and especially the Shi’a) have
traditionally been very hostile to Ibn Taymiyyah.
Ibn Taymiyyah also gave us Dar’ al-ta‘āruḍ al-‘aql wa-l-naql (The
Removal of Conflict between Reason and Revelation), a systematic and
analytical work refuting the methodologies of the Ashʿarites, Maturidites
and Mu’tazilites. Many consider this work to be his magnum opus on
account of its considerable impact on Ashʿarite theological thought. In
terms of size, however, Ibn Taymiyyah’s largest work is probably his Majmū’
al-fatāwā (Collection of Fatwas), a 35-volume encyclopaedia of his legal
opinions. For some, this has become as important as the six canonical books
of hadith. In some parts of the world, students even memorise it by heart.
In addition to these key texts, Ibn Taymiyyah also wrote al-Jawāb al-
ṣaḥīḥ li-man baddala Dīn al-Masīḥ (The Correct Response Concerning the
One who Converts from the Christian Faith), an extensive defence of both
Islam against Christianity and of the prophethoods of Muhammad . and
Jesus. Ibn Taymiyyah also authored Naqd al-manṭiq (A Critique of Logic)
and the aforementioned al-Radd ‘alā al-manṭiqiyyīn, both designed to limit
the heavy influence of philosophy and dialectics on Muslim thought. Rather
than taking the path of staunch criticism and total rejection, however, Ibn
Taymiyyah tried to demonstrate the superiority of the Qur’an and Sunna
over philosophy and dialectics, while at the same time constructively
working out new propositions and theories.
His students are another of Ibn Taymiyyah’s great contributions.
Perhaps his most recognised pupil, and who subsequently bore the flag
of his teaching, was Muḥammad bin Abū Bakr (d.750/1351), also known
as Ibn Qaiyyim al-Jawziyya. A famous Ḥanbalī jurist and member of
the ahl al-ḥadīth, Ibn Qaiyyim al-Jawziyya was a prolific writer in many
disciplines, especially in matters relating to fiqh and the purification of
the heart. Regarding the latter, he famously wrote the Madārij al-sālikīn
(Ranks of the Seekers) and Miftāḥ dār al-sa’āda (Key to the Abode of
Happiness), while on fiqh he authored the monumental Zād al-ma’ād
(Provisions of the Hereafter), a three-in-one book of fiqh, hadith and
sīra. These and other texts by Ibn Qaiyyim al-Jawziyya, like al-Ṭuruq
al-ḥukmiyya (Methods of Judgment) and Aḥkām ahl al-Dhimma (The
Legal Status of the Protected Peoples), helped propagate Ibn Taymiyyah’s
teachings, further strengthening his legacy.
The aforementioned al-Dhahabī was another notable student of Ibn
Taymiyyah. Another prolific writer, he reportedly authored a complete
anthology and induction of all hadith and their known narrators. Two
other important students of Ibn Taymiyyah were Yūsuf ibn al-Zakī ‘Abd
al-Raḥmān al-Mizzī (d.743/1342), a notable hadith expert and scholar
of rijāl (biography) who famously edited and abridged the monumental
work by ‘Abd al-Ghanī al-Maqdīsī (d.600/1203), al-Kamāl fī asmā’ al-rijāl
(A Great Collection of Fabricated Traditions), and Ismā‘īl ibn ‘Umar ibn
Kathīr (d.744/1373), the great Shāfi’ī scholar of tafsīr and history. Indeed,
Ibn Kathīr’s Tafsīr al-Qur’ān al-azīm is still the main reference for Qur’anic
exegesis today, with his al-Bidāya wal-nihāya also remaining an important
historical source.
Ibn Taymiyyah’s long list of students is testament to his greatness as a
teacher. It also indicates the importance of his intellectual legacy, signifying
him as a living force behind Islamic knowledge and civilisation.
Striking with both the Pen and the Sword

Ibn Taymiyyah was not only fearless in his scholarship, but also on the
battlefield, a very rare combination of skills for a renowned scholar. Thus,
in the early seventh/fourteenth century, he helped defend Damascus
against the invading Tatars. This conflict lasted several years, until Sultan
al-Mālik al-Nāsir. Qalāwūn sent additional troops to bolster Damascus’s
position, culminating in a Muslim triumph over the Tartars in Ramadān .
702/May 1303. During the course of the final battle, Ibn Taymiyyah
issued a fatwa permitting those who fight in the cause of jihād to dispense
with the duty of fasting.
This victory increased Ibn Taymiyyah’s fame in Damascus. He took the
stature and influence it gave him to persuade the army to launch another
attack, this time towards the Assassins (a group of militant fanatics who
had branched out from the Ismā‘īlī sect) and other deviant groups capable
of threatening society. Later, at the age of 51, Ibn Taymiyyah was called
upon to perform jihād again, this time in the defence of Jerusalem. Only
after this mission was completed did he return to his beloved Damascus.
Death
Ibn ‘Abd al-Hādī (d.744/1343), in his al-Ūqūd al-durriyya min manāqib
Shaykh al-Islām Aḥmad Ibn Taymiyyah, reports that in 726/1326 some Sufi-
orientated enemies of Ibn Taymiyyah distorted a sixteen-year-old treatise
by him regarding the permissibility and validity of visiting the tombs and
shrines of the prophets and saints. On the basis of this work, they lodged
a complaint with al-Mālik al-Nāsir . Qalāwūn that Ibn Taymiyyah had
prohibited Muslims from visiting the grave of the Prophet Muhammad .
(peace be upon him), deeming it bid’a. As a result, an order of arrest was
produced and, on the 17 Sha’bān 726/18 July 1326, Ibn Taymiyyah was
imprisoned in the citadel of Damascus. His chief pupil, Ibn Qaiyyim al-
Jawziyya, was also incarcerated along with him.
Reports indicate that shortly after his imprisonment, Ibn Taymiyyah’s
health deteriorated. The confiscation of his writing materials appears to
have been the chief cause of this. Without the ability to write, his condition
worsened day-by-day until, finally, Ibn Taymiyyah breathed his last on
the night of Monday 20 Dhū al-Qa’da 728/26 September 1328. He had
suffered from pain for twenty consecutive days before he left this world.
After his death, the markets of Damascus were closed and all day-to-
day business halted. A congregation of 200,000 people came to his funeral,
a figure only matched by those who attended the funeral of Imam Aḥmad
ibn Ḥanbal. Rulers, scholars, students, men, women and children, all
went out to pay their last respects to this great man, a man of astounding
integrity, who would never trade his principles for lowly worldly pleasures.
Ibn Taymiyyah was a scholar who diligently studied and mastered every
discipline. Full of dignity and confidence, he was unafraid to ally himself
to truth, even when no one else would. Ibn Taymiyyah was committed to
reform, but without neglecting the original understandings of the pious
predecessors. He was rightly feared by all his enemies, be it ideological
or political. He was truly Shaykh al-Islām, the epitome of diligence and
integrity.
One of Ibn Taymiyyah’s disciples, Imam al-Bazzār, said: “Every wise
person agreed that he [Ibn Taymiyyah] was one of those whom the
Prophet (peace be upon him) meant when he said: ‘At the beginning of
every century, Allah will send someone to revive this ummah’s religious
commitment.’6 By means of him, Allah revived issues of Shari’ah that had
been forgotten with the passage of time, and He made him proof against
all the people of his era. Praise be to Allah, the Lord of the Worlds.”7
Lessons for Reform in the Modern World

Ibn Taymiyyah was undoubtedly an architect of reform in his time,
contributing to the development of Islamic thought and civilisation.
Above all, he was committed to a renewal of the Islamic creed in strict
conformity to the understandings of the first three generations of Islam.
Despite all the suffering and hardship he endured, he firmly believed in
a specific form of Muslim identity, as expounded in his Iqtiḍā’ ṣirāṭ al-
mustaqīm (The Meaning of the Straight Path).
Although Ibn Taymiyyah became well-known for defending the pre-
eminence of revelation, he did not neglect the role of reason. For Ibn
Taymiyyah, Islam was like a tree: the roots were the Qur’an and hadith, the
trunk the core beliefs and understandings of the first three generations, and
the branches human reason. Thus, reason helped the tree bear fruit for the
spiritually hungry and provided shade for the needy. As a consequence of
this perspective, Ibn Taymiyyah was also a model of ijtihād, exercising his
reason and intellect in the service of the Qur’an and Sunna. Certainly, he
was not someone who blindly followed previous scholarly opinions, being
rather better well-known for going against the mainstream. His fatwas on
ṭalāq (divorce) and contracts are just two simple examples of this. In his
fatwa on ṭalāq, for instance, he held that saying ṭalāq three times (during the
divorce process) could be considered as just once. Regarding contracts, Ibn

Taymiyyah’s fatwas remain relevant to current market practices because of the
wide scope and role he gave to the principle of original permissibility (ibāḥa).
Ibn Taymiyyah’s life is also clear proof that aggression and rebellion are
not legitimate ways of challenging government; even with all the influence
and supporters he had, his method of calling rulers to enjoin goodness
and forbid evil was always respectful and intellectual. For him, jihād did
not mean launching military resistance; Ibn Taymiyyah only took up the
sword when ordered to by the government. He exemplified the belief
that obeying the rulers was part of the creed of ahl al-sunna wa al-jamā’a,
without neglecting the obligations of al-amr bi al-ma’rūf wa al-nahy ‘an
al-munkar and proper adab (etiquette). Some groups, however, have
incorrectly interpreted Ibn Taymiyyah and used his teachings to promote
extreme violence.
Via the many different aspects of his work, Ibn Taymiyyah helped
demonstrate how Islam preserves peace and brings forth prosperity, all
under the will and grace of Allah the Almighty. May Allah have mercy on
Ibn Taymiyyah.
Notes
1. Muhammad
. ‘Abd al-Raḥmān al-‘Arīfī, Zubdat al-Fawā’id min Kutub Ibn
Taymīyah (Riyadh: Dār al-Tadmurīyah, 2009), 12.
2. Ibid, 13.
3. Amal Fathullah Zarkasyi, Akidah Tauhid Ibn Taymiyyah (Nilai: Universiti
Sains Islam Malaysia, 2014), 23.
4. Ibid, 27-8.
5. For this and subsequent sections of the article, I would like to thank Professor
Mohammad Hashim Kamali for making available to me his personal notes
on Ibn Taymiyyah.
6. For the original hadith, see Abū Dāwūd al-Sijistānī, Sunan Abī Dāwūd, Kitāb
al-Malāḥim, hadith no. 4291.
7. Al-‘Arīfī, Zubdat al-Fawā’id, 6.
Further Reading
Al-‘Arīfī, Muḥammad ‘Abd al-Raḥmān. Zubdat al-Fawā’id min Kutub Ibn
Taymīyah. Riyadh: Dār al-Tadmurīyah, 2009.
Zarkasyi, Amal Fathullah. Akidah Tauhid Ibn Taymiyyah. Nilai: Universiti

Sains Islam Malaysia, 2014.
25
Ibn Qaiyyim al-Jawziyya
(691-751AH/1292-1350CE)
Tawfique al-Mubarak
This great Damascene scholar, whose full name was Shams al-Dīn
Muḥammad ibn Abī Bakr al-Zur‘ī, is more often known by his laqab,
Ibn Qaiyyim al-Jawziyya. His father was the qaiyyim (superintendent) of
the Madrasa al-Jawziyya in Damascus, located next to the office of the
chief judge (qāḍī al-quḍāt) and considered the official seat of Ḥanbalī
jurisprudence in greater Shām (Levant).1 Despite Ibn Qaiyyim’s versatile
contributions to Islamic civilisation, he is most prominently known as the
greatest student of Taqī al-Dīn ibn Taimiyyah (d.728AH/1232CE). It is
for this reason that Bori and Holtzman have rightly called him “a scholar
in the shadow” – that is, in the shadow of his great master.2
Ibn Qaiyyim was born on 7 Ṣafar 691/29 January 1292 in Damascus.
That his father, Abū Bakr (d.723/1323), was superintendent of al-Jawziyya
indicates that his family was of high social status. Given Damascus’s
position as a major centre of seventh/thirteenth century Islamic learning,
Ibn Qaiyyim was also blessed with the company of some of the greatest
scholars of his era. His education began at the hands of his learned father,
who was himself an erudite scholar on the laws of inheritance (‘ilm al-
farāíḍ). Like any other student of Islam during his era, Ibn Qaiyyim learnt
‘aqīda (Islamic belief system), ‘ilm al-kalām (theology), tafsīr (Qur’anic
exegesis), fiqh (Islamic Jurisprudence), uṣūl al-fiqh (Principles of Islamic
Jurisprudence), ‘ilm al-farāíḍ, Arabic language, grammar and syntax,
alongside other fields. His later works also reflect knowledge of medicine
and taṣawwuf (Islamic spirituality).
Ibn Qaiyyim’s first formal affiliation with a shaykh (master/teacher)
reportedly occurred during his seventh year, when he became the student
of Shihāb al-Dīn al-Nablūsī (d.697/1298), nicknamed al-‘Ābir (the dream

interpreter) for his unique skill in interpreting dreams. Ibn Qaiyyim
mentions him in his Zād al-ma‘ād fī hadyi khair al-‘ibād (Provisions for
the Afterlife, on the Teachings of the Best of all People). Among his other
prominent teachers were Sulaymān Taqī al-Dīn ibn Qudāma al-Maqdisī
(d.715/1315) and ‘Imād al-Dīn al-Wāsiṭī (d.711/1311).3 The former was
the chief judge of the Ḥanbalī School in Damascus, while the latter was
a well-known Ḥanbalī jurist and Sufi from whom Ibn Qaiyyim learnt
taṣawwuf and read Ansārī. al-Harawī’s spiritual manual, Manāzil al-sāírīn
(The Stations of those who walk along the Mystical Way). Al-Wāsiṭī also
influenced Ibn Qaiyyim’s most esteemed work on taṣawwuf, Madārij al-
sālikīn bayna manāzil iyyaka na‘budu wa iyyaka nasta‘īn (Stages of the
Travellers Between the Stations of “We worship You alone, and we seek
help from You alone”).
In Bakr Abū Zayd’s biography of Ibn Qaiyyim, entitled Ibn Qaiyyim
al-Jawziyya: Ḥayātuhū āthāruhū mawāriduhū, and which is considered the
most comprehensive account of Ibn Qaiyyim’s life and works,4 there is
an additional list of twenty-five further teachers.5 Frequently mentioned
amongst these are: Sharaf al-Dīn ibn Taymiyyah (d.727/1327); Ṣafī al-Dīn
al-Hindī (d.715/1315); the Shāfi’ī qādī. (judge) of Damascus, Muhammad.
Abūl-Ma‘ālī al-Zamlikānī (d.727/1327); the qādī . of Aleppo, Yūsuf Jamāl
al-Dīn al-Mizzī (d.743/1342), considered the imām al-muḥaddithīn
(leader of the hadith scholars) for his astounding knowledge of hadith;
and the female traditionalist, Fātima
. bint Jawhar (d.711/1311). By far
the most important figure, however, was the famous Shaykh al-Islām,
Ibn Taimiyyah. From the latter’s arrival in Damascus in 712/1313 until
his death in 728/1328, Ibn Qaiyyim devoted his life to studying under
him. Indeed, both were imprisoned (along with a wider group of Ibn
Taimiyyah’s followers) in 726/1326, following a fatwa (legal opinion)
issued by Ibn Taimiyyah condemning the popular custom of visiting the
graves of saints. This ruling incurred the fury of the province’s governor
and senior religious officials. Although all other disciples of Ibn Taimiyyah
were released immediately, neither the Shaykh al-Islām himself nor Ibn
Qaiyyim were: the master and his disciple remained behind the Citadel’s
prison bars for another two years, Ibn Qaiyyim only being set free a month
after his shaykh’s demise.
Ibn Qaiyyim started his teaching career at al-Jawziyya. Although no
exact date is recorded for the beginning of his appointment, his biographies
mention him teaching while Ibn Taimiyyah was still alive, suggesting that
he started teaching before they were arrested in 726/1326, i.e. before he
IBN QAIYYIM AL-JAWZIYYA 199
was thirty-four years of age. After his release in 728/1328, he re-established

his teaching career and, by the age of thirty-six, was highly regarded as
an independent scholar. By 743/1342, one of his greatest students, the
famous mufassir (exegete) and historian, Ismā‘īl Abū al-Fidā’ ibn Kathīr
(d.774/1373), mentions him teaching at the Madrasa al-Ṣadriyya,
suggesting that he became formally affiliated to this institute later in life.
Aside from Ibn Kathīr, Ibn Qaiyyim’s most famous students included
the well-known muḥaddith and Ḥanbalī jurist, Ibn Rajab al-Ḥanbalī
(d.795/1393), the erudite Shāfi’ī jurist and muḥaddith, Taqī al-Dīn al-
Subkī (d.756/1355), the notable historian, muḥaddith and Shāfi’ī jurist,
Muḥammad ibn Aḥmad al-Dhahabī (d.748/1348), and the famous
lexicographer who complied al-Qāmūs al-muḥīṭ, Abū al-Ṭāhir al-
Fairūzābādī (d.817/1414). These luminous figures left their mark on a
variety of Islamic sciences, reflecting Ibn Qaiyyim’s immense influence on
succeeding generations of scholars.
As mentioned, Ibn Qaiyyim was highly influenced by his own master,
Ibn Taimiyyah, whose teachings he passed on to his students. Despite this
influence, however, the two men differed on various points. For example,
Ibn Qaiyyim developed a different attitude towards Sufism. Although
initially upholding Ibn Taimiyyah’s negative views of Sufism, during a later
period of imprisonment, Ibn Qaiyyim busied himself with pondering the
Qur’anic text and its inherent meaning. During his seclusion, he experienced
a series of mystical visions (described as adhwāq, pl. of dhawq). From this
point on, his interest in taṣawwuf intensified, until he devoted himself
fully to the Sufi path. Ibn Qaiyyim’s most poignant work on taṣawwuf
was his Madārij al-sālikīn, a well-celebrated masterpiece. Additionally, he
also composed Miftāḥ dār al-sa‘āda wa manshūr wilāyat al-‘ilm wal-írāda
(The Key to the Abode of Happiness and the Decree of the Sovereignty
of Knowledge and Will), which elaborated on the wisdom behind Allah’s
creation and alluded to the Sufi practice of dhikr (remembrance of God).
His earliest biographers, including Ibn Kathīr and Ibn Rajab, described
him as an earnest Sufi who loved to abandon the pleasures of this world
for the sake of ‘ibādāt (servitude to God).6
Ibn Qaiyyim also differed with Ibn Taimiyyah regarding ḥiyal (legal
artifices). Ibn Taimiyyah severely refuted the use of ḥiyal, disapproving
of any artifice in any matter, regardless of whether the means and goals
actually contravened the Sharia or not. Indeed, he dedicated the whole of his
treatise, Iqāmat al-dalīl ‘alā ibṭāl al-taḥlīl (Establishing the Proofs to Refute
the ‘Catalyst Marriage’), to a rebuttal of the claimants of ḥiyal in marriage.
Ibn Qaiyyim, however, took a differing view: he argued that any ḥīla which
led to a valid intent and goal (maqṣad wal-wuṣūl) was permissible.7 He

discussed this subject in detail, both in his I‘lām al-muwaqqi‘īn ‘an Rabb
al-‘Ālamīn (Informing the Drafters of Legal Documents about the Lord of
All Beings) and Ighāthat al-lahfān min maṣāyid al-Shayṭān (Rescuing the
Distressed from Satan’s Snares).
Ibn Qaiyyim contributed to almost all branches of the Islamic sciences.
Indeed, the list of his works is so vast that one would find it cumbersome
to innumerate them all. So far, the most comprehensive list of his writings
can be found in Abū Zayd’s biography, in which ninety-eight titles are
mentioned, both published and unpublished. The most important of these
(by subject) are as follows.
On ‘aqīda, Ibn Qaiyyim authored several treatises refuting the Mu’tazilites
and the Ash’arites, of which al-Kāfiya al-shāfiya fī intiṣār al-firqa al-nājiya
(The Sufficient and Healing [Poem] on the Vindication of the Saved
Sect) is an early example. This treatise, written in poetic form, comprises
nearly six thousand verses, each ending with -anī, and thus resulting in the
text’s alternative name, al-Qaṣīda al-nūniyya (The Ode Rhyming in N).
Another of Ibn Qaiyyum’s works, Ijtimā‘ al-juyūsh al-Islāmiyya ‘alā ghazwi
al-Mu‘aṭṭila wal-Jahmiyya (Mustering the Islamic Armies to Attack the
Mu‘aṭṭila and the Jahmiyya), refuted both the Mu’tazilites (whom he termed
Mu‘ṭṭila, or those practicing ta‘ṭīl, the negation of Allah’s attributes) and the
Jahmiyya (a sect who denied certain attributes of Allah and human free
will). A more mature version of this text later appeared under the title al-
Ṣawā‘iq al-mursala ‘alā al-Jahmiyya wal-Mu‘aṭṭila (Thunderbolts Directed
against the Jahmiyya and the Mu‘aṭṭila).
Ibn Qaiyyim was also well-versed in the field of tafsīr, although no
complete tafsīr has ever been attributed to him. Nevertheless, several
compilations of his commentaries on specific Qur’anic verses exist,
including those collected by Uwais Nadwi8 and Yusrā al-Sayyid.9 Other
of his works on tafsīr include al-Tibyān fī aqsām al-Qur’ān (Explaining the
Oaths in the Qur’an).
Ibn Qaiyyim’s work on the hadith literature is also well-celebrated,
especially his Tahdhīb Sunan Abī Dāwūd (The Neat Arrangement of the
Sunan of Abū Dāwūd), which he wrote entirely from memory while in
Makkah in 733/1332. In his al-Manār al-munīf fī al-ṣaḥīḥ wal-da’īf (The
Lofty Tower on Authentic and Weak Hadith), he introduced the method
of differentiating between forged and authentic hadith, an important
topic addressed to soothe the concerns of his students.
One of Ibn Qaiyyim’s earliest works was his al-Furūsiyya (Horsemanship),
a treatise on various types of sports and exercises essential for the ruling
elite. He also wrote on new-born babies and their care, including the role
of parents in bringing them up. This treatise, entitled Tuḥfat al-mawdūd fī
aḥkām al-mawlūd (The Gift of the Beloved regarding Laws Dealing with
the New-born), is a unique and entertaining volume, unprecedented in its
genre.
On politics, Ibn Qaiyyim wrote Al-Ṭuruq al-ḥukmiyya fī al-siyāsa al-
shar‘iyya (The Ways of Governance, on Islamic Law related to Rulings)
and Aḥkām ahl al-dhimma (Laws Regarding the Dhimmis, or protected
religious minorities), among other titles. He also wrote on music in his
Kashf al-ghiṭā’ ‘an ḥukm sam‘ al-ghinā (Unveiling the Legal Ruling on
Listening to Music), where he described the legal opinions relating to the
permissibility of listening to music, dancing and certain music-related Sufi
practices.
One of his last written works was the celebrated Zād al-ma‘ād fī hadyi
khair al-‘ibād (Provisions for the Afterlife, on the Teachings of the Best of
People). Reflecting his practical advice for living a better life, this text is
presumed to have been composed during his travels. In it, Ibn Qaiyyim
drew upon examples from the Prophetic traditions to describe the Prophet’s
daily life. The last part of this treatise is Ibn Qaiyyim’s acclaimed al-Ṭibb al-
Nabawī (The Prophetic Medicine), in which he discussed those remedies
for mental and physical illnesses mentioned in the hadith literature. He
also discussed the benefits of several herbs and natural medicines.
Ibn Qaiyyim left this world to meet his Lord on the night of 23 Rajab
751/26 September, 1350. His funeral was held at the great mosque in
Damascus, after which he was laid to rest at the Bāb al-Ṣaghīr cemetery.
May Allah have mercy on this great architect of Islamic civilisation!
Notes
1. The Madrasa al-Jawziyya was named after its founder, Muhyī . al-Dīn al-
Jawzī (d.656/1258), son of the famous Ḥanbalī scholar, Abūl Faraj ‘Abd
al-Rahmān
. ibn al-Jawzī al-Qurashī (d.597/1201). Due to the similarity
between the names Ibn al-Jawzī and Ibn Qaiyyim al-Jawziyya, many have
become confused on this point. Ibn al-Jawzī was the author of Talbīs Iblīs
(The Devil’s Deception) and Minhāj al-qāsidīn . wa mufīd al-sādiqīn
. (The
Road of the Pursuers and the Instructor of the Truthful), among other
titles. His lineage goes back to the first caliph, Abū Bakr al-Ṣiddīq. He was
reportedly the author of more than seven hundred works on various issues
and is considered to have been one of the greatest scholars to have ever lived.
For further details, see G. F. Haddad, ‘Ibn al-Jawzi.’ Available at: http://www.
sunnah.org/history/Scholars/ibn_aljawzi.htm. (Accessed on: 30 April, 2015).
2. Caterina Bori and Livnat Holtzman, ‘A Scholar in the Shadow,’ in A Scholar

in the Shadow: Essays in the Legal and Theological Thought of Ibn Qayyim
al-Jawziyyah, ed. Caterina Bori and Livnat Holtzman (Rome: Istituto per
l’Oriente, 2010), 14.
3. Livnat Holtzman, ‘Ibn Qaiyyim al-Jawziyyah,’ in Essays in Arabic Literary
Biography II: 1350-1850, ed. Joseph E. Lowry and Devin J. Stewart
(Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2009), 202-222.
4. Bakr ‘Abdullāh Abū Zayd, Ibn Qaiyyim al-Jawziyyah: Ḥayātuhū Āthāruhū
Mawāriduhū, 2nd ed. (Riyadh: Dār al-‘Āṭimah, 1423AH). Also see: Ṣalāḥ
al-Dīn ‘Alā ‘Abd al-Mawjūd, The Biography of Imām Ibn al-Qaiyyim, trans.
Abdul-Rāfī Adewale Imām (Riyadh: Darussalam, 2006).
5. Abū Zayd, Ibn Qaiyyim, 161-179.
6. ‘Abd al-Mawjūd, Biography of Ibn al-Qaiyyim, 275-9.
7. For a detailed discussion of differing opinions surrounding the use of ḥiyal,
see Tawfique al-Mubarak, ‘Ḥiyal and Their Applications in Contemporary
Islamic Financial Contracts: Towards Setting Acceptable Norms,’
Unpublished Masters Thesis, Hamad Bin Khalifa University, Doha (2012).
8. Abū Zayd, Ibn Qaiyyim, 232.
9. Holtzman, ‘Ibn Qaiyyim al-Jawziyyah,’ 207. Yusrā al-Sayyid’s compilation is
called Badā’i‘ al-Tafsīri, ‘The Amazing Items of the Qur’anic Exegesis’.
Further Reading
‘Abd al-Mawjūd, Salāh
. . al-Dīn ‘Alā. The Biography of Imām Ibn al-Qaiyyim.
Translated by Abdul-Rāfī Adewale Imām. Riyadh: Darussalam, 2006.
Abū Zayd, Bakr ‘Abdullāh. Ibn Qaiyyim al-Jawziyyah: Ḥayātuhū Āthāruhū
Mawāriduhū (Ibn Qaiyyim al-Jawziyyah: His Life, Heritage and Sources), 2nd
edition. Riyadh: Dār al-‘Āḥimah, 1423AH.
Al-Mubarak, Tawfique. ‘Ḥiyal and Their Applications in Contemporary Islamic
Financial Contracts: Towards Setting Acceptable Norms.’ Unpublished Masters
Thesis, Hamad Bin Khalifa University, Doha. 2012.
Bori, Caterina, and Livnat Holtzman. ‘A Scholar in the Shadow.’ In A Scholar
in the Shadow: Essays in the Legal and Theological Thought of Ibn Qayyim al-
Jawziyyah, edited by Caterina Bori and Livnat Holtzman, 1-14. Rome: Istituto
per l’Oriente, 2010.
Haddad, G. F. ‘Ibn al-Jawzi.’ As-Sunnah Foundation of America. Available at:
http://www.sunnah.org/history/Scholars/ibn_aljawzi.htm.
Holtzman, Livnat. ‘Ibn Qaiyyim al-Jawziyyah.’ In Essays in Arabic Literary
Biography II: 1350 – 1850, edited by Joseph E. Lowry and Devin J. Stewart,
202-222. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2009.
Krawietz, Birgit. ‘Ibn Qayyim al-Jawzīyah: His Life and Works.’ Mamlūk Studies
Review 10, no. 2 (2006): 19-64.
Al-Shāmī, Sālih
. . Ahmad.
. Imām Ibn Qaiyyim al-Jawziyyah: al-Dā‘iyyah al-Muṣliḥ
wal-‘Ālim al-Mausū‘ī (Imam Ibn Qaiyyim al-Jaziyyah: The Reformer Caller and
the Encyclopaedic Scholar). Damascus: Dār al-Qalam, 2008.
26
Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm al-Shāṭibī
(ca.720-790AH/1320-1388CE)
Tawfique al-Mubarak
Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm b. Mūsā b. Muḥammad al-Lakḫmī al-Shāṭibī al-

Mālikī (ca.720-790AH/1320-1388CE) was one of the great scholars of
al-Andalus (modern-day Spain and Portugal) and one of the brightest stars
of Mālikī juresprudence. Despite his prominence, however, the details
of his (especially early) life have not been well recorded.1 This could be
because he came from a poor and uncelebrated family of scholars, for
whom such records have not survived. Nevertheless, Aḥmad al-Raysūnī,
a contemporary Moroccan scholar who has taken up Imam al-Shāṭibī’s
theory of maqāṣid al-sharī’a (the higher intentions of Sharia), mentions
three early biographies: one by al-Shāṭibī’s own student, Abū ‘Abd
Allāh al-Majārī (d.862/1458), called Barnāmij al-Majārī, and two by
the great seventeenth-century Mali scholar, Aḥmad Bābā al-Timbuktī
(d.1036/1627), called Nayl al-ibtihāj and Kifāyat al-muhtāj.2 Using these
and other, more recent sources, this paper will attempt to reconstruct the
details of al-Shāṭibī’s life.
Early Life and Education

Al-Shāṭibī was born into a poor family in Granada, the then capital of the
Nasrī
. Kingdom. Little information exists about the Imam’s year of birth.
It is thought, however, to have been between 720/1320 and 730/1330.
From his full name we may deduce that his ancestors were from the
Lakḫmī tribe of Arabia, and therefore immigrants to al-Andalus. It is
unlikely, however, that al-Shāṭibī came from the eastern Spanish town
of Shāṭiba (modern-day Xativa or Jativa); authentic reports confirm that
he was neither born nor ever lived there. Certainly, there is no record
ABŪ ISḤĀQ IBRĀHĪM AL-SHĀṬIBĪ 205
of any Muslim settlement in Shāṭiba after its fall to the Christians in

645/1247, eight to nine decades prior to al-Shāṭibī’s birth.3 Instead, this
nisba probably indicates that his immediate ancestors moved to Granada
from Shāṭiba.
During his lifetime, al-Shāṭibī never travelled outside Granada, whether
for education or for the Hajj. Nevertheless, during his youth the Nasrī .
Kingdom, both for its development and prosperity, projected itself as the
centre of scholarship in both Muslim Spain and North Africa. As a result,
all the great scholars of the period, like Ibn Khaldūn (d.808/1406) and Ibn
al-Khaṭīb (d.775/1374), visited Granada and attached themselves to the
. court. With these great scholars, al-Shāṭibī was able to master all the
Nasrī 4
available branches of knowledge: tafsīr (Qur’anic exegesis), hadith studies,

fiqh (Islamic law), uṣūl al-fiqh (the principles of Islamic jurisprudence),
and Arabic grammar. Some of his treatise also indicate that he received
training in medicine and history.5
Perhaps the most prominent of al-Shāṭibī’s teachers was Abū ‘Abd
Allāh al-Maqqarī, chief qāḍī of the Marīniyūn Sultanate. He was sent to
Granada in 757/1356 on a diplomatic mission, but was later arrested by
the Nasrī. Sultan and sent back to Fez. While he remained in Granada,
however, al-Maqqarī taught al-Shāṭibī Arabic grammar, uṣūl al-fiqh, and
Sufism. Indeed, al-Maqqarī initiated al-Shāṭibī into a Sufi silsilah.6
Another of al-Shāṭibī’s teachers was Abū Sa’īd ibn Lubb (d.782/1380),
the muftī (jurisconsult) and khaṭīb (preacher) of Granada, with whom he
studied fiqh. Although al-Shāṭibī came to owe much to Ibn Lubb, they
later entered into controversies over several issues. Concerning Arabic
grammar, al-Shāṭibī studied with both Abū ‘Abd Allāh Muḥammad al-Birī
(d.754/1353), known as the ‘master of grammarians’ (shaykh al-nuḥāt),
and Abū al-Qāsim al-Sharīf al-Sibtī (d.760/1358). Al-Sibtī was known
as the ‘Bearer of the Standard of Rhetoric’ for his eminence in Arabic
language and grammar.7 In the field of ‘ulūm al-aqliyya (rational sciences),
al-Shāṭibī owed his knowledge to two great scholars: Abū ‘Alī Mansūr . al-
Zawawī, who lived in Granada from 753/1352 to 765/1363 and shaped
al-Shāṭibī’s knowledge of falsafah and kalām, and Abū ‘Abd Allāh al-Sharīf
al-Tilmisānī (d.771/1369), a prominent mujtahid.8
Aside from these, al-Shāṭibī’s teachers also included Abū ‘Abd Allāh of
Valencia, Abū Ja’far al-Shaqūrī of Granada, and Ibn Marzūq al-Khaṭīb al-
Tilmisānī. Under the latter – who was considered the Shaykh al-Islām of
his time – al-Shāṭibī studied the Muwaṭṭa’ of Imam Mālik and the Ṣaḥīḥ
al-Bukhārī.9
Career
Although it is known that al-Shāṭibī spent a good portion of his life
teaching, because of the gaps in his biography the details of this career
remain unclear. Al-Timbuktī, however, does mention three of his
students: the two brothers, Abū Yaḥya ibn ‘Āsim . and Abū Bakr ibn ‘Āsim,
.
and Abū ‘Abd Allāh al-Bayānī. Of these, Abū Bakr became the chief qāḍī
of Granada and wrote Tuḥfat al-ḥukkām, a compendium of rulings for the
judges of Granada. Abū ‘Abd Allāh, on the other hand, became a well-
known faqīh.10
But, if little is known about al-Shāṭibī’s teaching career, more can be
said about his intellectual legacy. Although al-Shāṭibī’s written work was
largely forgotten after his death, in 1884 his magnum opus, al-Muwāfaqat
fī uṣūl al-sharī’a, was republished in Tunis and soon became celebrated
throughout the Islamic world. Since then, numerous important treatises
by al-Shāṭibī – mainly in the fields of Arabic grammar and fiqh – have been
recorded and examined. Here is a summary of the most important:11
1. Sharḥ ‘ala al-khulāṣa fī al-naḥw, a four-volume commentary on
Ibn Mālik’s Alfiyah. Al-Timbuktī described it as “an unprecedented
work on Arabic grammar.”
2. Kitāb al-majālis, a commentary on the chapter on sale (buyu’) in
Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī.
3. Kitāb al-i’tiṣām, a two-volume work focusing on bid’a (religious
innovation). Bid’a, al-Shāṭibī writes, has led to heresies and
deviation. Generally, it has had its roots in two factors: ignorance of
the Arabic language (and so of the inherent meaning of the religious
texts) and ignorance of the purposes and objectives (maqāṣid) of
Sharia. This text by al-Shāṭibī was re-introduced into the Islamic
world by Rashīd Ridā . (d.1935), in his magazine al-Manār. It
remains one of al-Shāṭibī’s most widely-read texts.
4. Al-Muwāfaqat fī uṣūl al-sharī’a, in which al-Shāṭibī follows the
Ḥanafī method (tarīqa
. al-Hanafiyyin,
. also known as the jurists’
method) of deriving rules and principles from the Qur’an and
Sunna. Using this method and while dividing his book into five parts
– premises, aḥkām (rules), maqāṣid al-sharī’a, ‘adillāh (sources), and
ijtihād (legal reasoning) – al-Shāṭibī argued that maṣlaḥa (public
interest) is the underlying principle of Sharia. This text is therefore
the first systematic study of maqāṣid al-sharī’a and modern writers
on uṣūl al-fiqh are greatly indebted to it; the concepts of maṣlaḥa
and maqāṣid al-sharī’a as widely understood today are largely

derived from it.
5. The University of Leiden reputedly preserves a medical treatise by
al-Shāṭibī. Although not mentioned by any major authority, the
University’s catalogue clearly attributes its manuscript copy to the
Imam and describes it as having been written down by his student,
Ibn al-Khaṭīb.
6. Fatāwā, a compilation of his fatwas made by Abū al-Ajfān. This
text consists of sixty fatwas on subjects as diverse as knowledge,
prayer, ijtihād, charity, vows, slaughter, penalties, inheritance, and
innovation.
Al-Shāṭibī: The Imam of Maqāsid

. al-Sharī’a
As mentioned, al-Shāṭibī’s text, al-Muwāfaqat, is his most important and
describes the maqāṣid al-sharī’a. After similar discussions on maqāṣid by
Imam al-Ḥaramayn al-Juwaynī (d.478/1085) and his disciple, Imam al-
Ghazālī (d.505/1111), al-Shāṭibī’s major contributions to this area can be
summarised thus:12
1. From ‘unrestricted interests’ to ‘fundamentals of law’. Prior to
al-Shāṭibī, discussions surrounding maqāṣid were confined to
‘unrestricted interests’. As a result, they were not considered to be
part of the ‘fundamentals of law’ in their own right. Al-Shāṭibī,
however, referred to the Qur’an to establish that the Creator had a
purpose for His creation, and which manifested itself in (amongst
other things) the ordaining of laws for that creation. Therefore, al-
Shāṭibī considered maqāṣid to be amongst the “fundamentals of
religion, the basic rules of law and the universals of belief.”
2. From ‘wisdom behind the rulings’ to ‘basis for the rulings’. Al-
Shāṭibī’s emphasis on maqāṣid highlighted the necessity for
formulating a basis for rulings. In this respect, he gave precedence
to the universality of necessities (ḍarūrīyāt), needs (ḥājīyāt) and
luxuries (taḥsīnīyāt), over partiality (juz’iyya). For him, universal
rulings could not be overridden by partial rulings, a position
which deviated from the Mālikī School, wherein partial rulings are
given precedence over universal rulings. Al-Shāṭibī also considered
knowledge of maqāṣid to be a fundamental condition for ijtihād.
3. From ‘uncertainty’ (ẓanniyya) to ‘certainty’ (qaṭ’iyya). Al-Shāṭibī
argued that, to formulate a new theory of maqāṣid al-sharī’a, there
should be a degree of certainty about the intentions behind a law.

This certainty, he said, should be formulated by inductive reasoning,
thereby challenging the popular position that inductive reasoning
was invalid as a method of generating knowledge.
Death and Legacy

Imam al-Shāṭibī died on the 8 Sha’bān 790/11 August 1388.13 In
modern times, he has become one of the few classical jurists upon whom
contemporary Islamic reformers rely. His concern for producing laws
in answer to the social challenges of his time has meant that his work
maintains a high degree of contemporary relevance. Many recent scholars,
. and ‘Abd al-Muta’āl al-Ṣa’īdī (d.1966), consider him
like Rashīd Ridā
to be amongst the leading mujaddid (religious reformers) of the eighth/
fourteenth century, having a status equal to Ibn Khaldūn and Imam al-
Shāfi’ī.
Notes
1. Muhammad Khalid Masud, Shatibi’s Philosophy of Islamic Law (Kuala
Lumpur: Islamic Book Trust, 2000).
2. Ahmad
. al-Raysūnī, Naẓarīyat al-Maqāsid
. ‘inda al-Imām al-Shātibī
. (Herndon,
VA: International Institute of Islamic Thought, 1995).
3. Ibid.
4. Muhammad Khalid Masud, ‘Recent Studies of Shatibi’s al-Muwafaqat,’
Islamic Studies 14, no. 1 (1975): 65-75.
5. Masud, Shatibi’s Philosophy of Islamic Law.
6. Ibid.
7. Al-Raysūnī, Nazarīyat
. al-Maqāsid
. ‘inda al-Imām al-Shātibī.
.
8. Ibid.
9. Ibid.
10. Ibid.
11. See Ibid and Masud, Shatibi’s Philosophy of Islamic Law.
12. See Jasser Auda, Maqasid al-Shariah as Philosophy of Islamic Law: Systems
Approach (Kuala Lumpur: Islamic Book Trust and the International Institute
of Islamic Thought, 2010).
13. Masud, Shatibi’s Philosophy of Islamic Law.
Further Reading
Al-Raysūnī, Ahmad.
. Nazarīyat
. al-Maqāsid
. ‘inda al-Imām al-Shātibī.
. Herndon,
VA: International Institute of Islamic Thought, 1995.
Auda, Jasser. Maqasid al-Shariah as Philosophy of Islamic Law: Systems Approach.

Kuala Lumpur: Islamic Book Trust and The International Institute of Islamic
Thought, 2010.
Masud, Muhammad Khalid. ‘Recent Studies of Shatibi’s al-Muwafaqat.’ Islamic

Studies 14, no. 1 (1975): 65-75.
______________________. Shatibi’s Philosophy of Islamic Law. Kuala Lumpur:

Islamic Book Trust, 2000.
27
‘Abd al-Rahmān
. Ibn Khaldūn
(732-808AH/1332-1406CE)
Elmira Akhmetova
‘Abd al-Raḥmān ibn Khaldūn was a Muslim historian of Arab origin. Best
known to modern readers for his Muqaddima (Prolegomena [To History]),
the introductory section to his magnificent seven-volume account of world
history, Kitāb al-‘Ibar (Book of History), and which outlined the basic
foundations for his science of civilisation, he is commonly considered to
be a founding father of the modern disciplines of historiography, sociology
and economics. The well-known British historian, Arnold J. Toynbee,
designated the Muqaddima as a “philosophy of history which is undoubtedly
the greatest work of its kind that has ever yet been created by any mind in
any time or place.” Another British scholar, Robert Flint, commented on
the significance of Ibn Khaldūn thus: “as a theorist of history he had no
equal in any age or country until Vico appeared, more than three hundred
years later. Plato, Aristotle, and Augustine were not his peers, and all others
were unworthy of being even mentioned along with him.”
Life and Career

‘Abd al-Raḥmān ibn Muḥammad ibn Khaldūn al-Ḥadramī . al-Ishbīlī,
more commonly known as simply Ibn Khaldūn, was born in Tunis in
732AH/1332CE to an influential Arab family of the Banū Khaldūn, from
the Ḥadramaut.
. His family’s high social status enabled Ibn Khaldūn to
study with the best teachers in the region, providing him with a standard
education in all the traditional disciplines. Subsequently, he became a
court official, serving many North African rulers.
At the age of twenty, and in the midst of various inter- and intra-
dynastic disputes, Ibn Khaldūn began his public career as secretary to the
‘ABD AL-RAḤMĀN IBN KHALDŪN 211
Hafsid
. sultan of Tunis. Soon, however, he transferred his loyalties to the
rival Merinide dynasty, based in Fez. Staying in Fez for almost ten years, he
served the Merinides in numerous ways, but most notably by helping them
negotiate with the Bedouin tribes of North Africa. During this period, he
delighted in the many intrigues taking place between various members
of the Merinide dynasty, who ruthlessly competed with each other for
supremacy. Indeed, between 758/1357 and 760/1359, Ibn Khaldūn was
himself imprisoned following his role in a Hafsid. conspiracy to overthrow
the Merinides. He was released only upon the death of the Merinide
sultan, Abū ‘Inān, after which the new sultan, Abū Salīm, appointed him
to senior positions, including to the supervision of civil law. In 762/1361,
however, Abū Salīm was murdered and Ibn Khaldūn was forced to leave
Fez on the condition that he left North Africa altogether.1
Subsequently, Ibn Khaldūn was welcomed at the Nasrid . court in
Granada by Sultan Muḥammad V (r.755-760/1354-1359 and 763-
793/1362-1391). During his stay in Granada, Ibn Khaldūn was
given various duties, including leading an embassy to Pedro El Cruel
(d.770/1369) in Seville in 765/1364. Not long after this mission, and due
to a now obscure disagreement with an influential wazīr, Ibn Khaldūn
was forced to leave Granada. Returning to North Africa, he settled in
Bougie and became chamberlain to the Hafsid . prince, Abū ‘Abd Allāh.
Just one year later, however, Abū ‘Abd Allāh was murdered by rebels. For
the next nine years, Ibn Khaldūn travelled around central and western
North Africa, developing tribal relations. It was during this period that
he first recognised the fundamental differences between nomadic and
sedentary lives, between rural and urban areas. This distinction inspired his
interpretation of history; in the solitude of a Berber castle, he proceeded
to write his Muqaddima (completed in Rajab 779/November 1377) and
some parts of Kitāb al-‘Ibar.
In 785/1383, Ibn Khaldūn left Tunis for Egypt with the hope of
obtaining a more peaceful life teaching and writing. The following year, he
became Egypt’s grand judge and expert in Mālikī law. He was reportedly a
very harsh judge, causing many conflicts, intrigues and dismissals. He died
in Cairo in 808/1406.
Science of Civilisation (‘Ilm al-‘Umrān)

In the Muqaddima, Ibn Khaldūn outlined the basic theoretical and
methodological foundations of his science of civilisation (‘ilm al-‘umrān).
His main concern was to describe the rise and fall of various North African
Muslim dynasties; by focusing on what he regarded as the essential social

differences between pastoral nomadic (‘umrān badawī) and sedentary
(‘umrān ḥaḍarī) societies, he provided a simple but profound explanation for
this phenomenon. ‘Umrān badawī, he claimed, were societies which only
produced bare necessities, while ‘umrān ḥaḍarī involved the production
of luxuries. With increased security and freedom, Ibn Khaldūn believed
all people would naturally develop ‘umrān ḥaḍarī from ‘umrān badawī as
they became involved in competition tied to economic production and
growth. In other words, as ‘umrān developed it would naturally increase
and flourish – old cities would be rebuilt and new ones constructed. Ibn
Khaldūn therefore envisaged civilisation as a product of material progress
and economic development. It was a continuous, progressive process that
humanity achieved through cooperation and striving. When the scale of
cooperation and number of people involved increased, a larger and more
improved ‘umrān would emerge.2
For Ibn Khaldūn, ‘umrān came into existence with the formation
of ‘aṣabiyya, often translated as ‘group feeling’ or ‘social cohesion’. He
maintained that groups with strong ‘aṣabiyya would establish political rule
over those with weak ‘aṣabiyya. At the same time, and in order to build
a strong civilisation, ‘aṣabiyya must be guided by religious law; for Ibn
Khaldūn, religion gave additional power to ‘aṣabiyya by uniting people
under strong leadership.3 Consequently, he concluded that ‘umrān came
into existence as a result of a harmonious interplay between ‘aṣabiyya and
religion.
In the thought of Ibn Khaldūn, ‘umrān was always in a state of
change, from a primitive form to an advanced form. But, and just as
with biological organisms, a natural and necessary consequence of this
growth and maturity was an eventual decline; once ‘umrān ḥaḍarī was
established, it would necessarily decline back into ‘umrān badawī, creating
a cyclic process that would be repeated over and over. According to Ibn
Khaldūn, each stage of ‘umrān ḥaḍarī would be culturally more advanced
than the preceding one, but politically weaker. He also suggested that rural
communities were morally stronger than urban communities; he felt the
Bedouin were characterised by courage, intrepidity, freedom, morality
and religion, while city-dwellers tended to embody dishonesty, a failure
to maintain unity and solidarity, and (due to their sedentary lifestyle) an
addiction to luxury and ease.

Discipline of Historical Criticism

Ibn Khaldūn also made a significant contribution to the field of
historiography. In the Muqaddima, he succeeded in widening the scope
of historical inquiry, giving priority to the study of social, economic and
cultural matters, and setting out a system of good and sound historical
criticism based on the rational evaluation of historical accounts.
Ibn Khaldūn considered early Muslim historians to have been
outstanding scholars, who presented a comprehensive collection of sound
historical events. Afterwards, however, a tradition developed of fraudulent
stories and reports; later generations of historians, Ibn Khaldūn said,
habitually neglected to consider the circumstances, conditions and customs
of the different nations and races their historical accounts were concerned
with. In their work, they presented myth as established fact, without any
supporting evidence. Ibn Khaldūn found this unacceptable. As a result,
he outlined a method of historical criticism comprising several important
steps of assessment. According to him, in order to create authentic and
trustworthy historical accounts, historians should possess a good command
of the principles of politics, of the true nature of existent things, and of
the differences between nations, places and time periods (i.e. differences
in character, customs and traditions). They also needed a comprehensive
knowledge of present-day conditions, which they should then compare to
past conditions with an eye to the similarities and differences between the
periods in question as a basis for the evaluation of historical events.
Ibn Khaldūn accordingly requested that historians consider the
differing conditions accompanying the rise of different dynasties, in order
to recognise the disparate reasons and incentives which brought them
into being and eventually led to their fall. The main goals of the historian,
Ibn Khaldūn believed, were to have a comprehensive knowledge of the
reasons for every happening and to be acquainted with the origin of every
event. He suggested that historians check transmitted information with
the basic principles of their own knowledge. If they tallied, then the
information should be considered sound. Otherwise, it should be rejected
as spurious.4
Economic Thought
Through his great sense and knowledge of history, together with his
meticulous observations of men, times, and places, Ibn Khaldūn also
analysed the role of wealth in the rise and fall of civilisations. For the first
time, Ibn Khaldūn raised significant socioeconomic questions concerning

population, wealth, surplus, and the hopes of labourers vis-à-vis the fruits
of their toil. By doing so, he clearly demonstrated breadth and depth
in his coverage of a range of issues, including: material wealth and its
relationship to labour; capital accumulation and its relationship to the
rise and fall of dynasties; and the dynamics of demand, supply, pricing,
and profit. By considering these factors, not only did Ibn Khaldūn plant
the seeds of classical economics – production, supply, and cost – but he
also pioneered an understanding of the cornerstones of modern economic
theory: consumption, demand, and utility.5
For Ibn Khaldūn, ‘umrān was a dynamic socioeconomic concept, a
process for increasing wealth and material well-being. In this regard, the
economic content of ‘umrān constitutes the ultimate criterion by which
its different stages are distinguished from one another; depending on
the nature of human industry, or the way in which people make their
livings, ‘umrān takes on either its badawī or haḍarī form. While ‘umrān
badawī is dominated by agricultural activity and the production of the
necessities of life, ‘umrān haḍarī is marked by commercial labour, crafts
and an increasing variety of luxury habits.6 Wealth therefore provides
the substance of ‘umrān, with labour and human industry being the real
sources of wealth.
In addition to this, Ibn Khaldūn also discusses the worldliness of man
and his acquisitive nature. According to Ibn Khaldūn, people constantly
reach out for this world, for its wealth and prestige. While these worldly
desires are natural and even necessary for man and his survival, the
exploitation of the labour of others to achieve them is both unnatural and
unjust. It is a type of oppression (zulm) that eventually becomes harmful
to both society and civilisation. This is because it kills the incentive to
work. Incentive is the major link between prosperity and population;
killing it also kills people’s hope and eventually leads to the waning of
‘umrān. As a consequence, Ibn Khaldūn stated that, in order to ensure
law and order, it is necessary that society has a large population with
access to labour specialisation and free trade while also being subject to
minimal taxation. The last of these factors is particularly important: in
order to maintain stability, the state should only take a minimal amount
of surplus through taxation in order to provide a minimum of services
and other necessary public works. An ideal taxation system would be one
that is large enough to provide the funds necessary for maintaining and
sustaining ‘umrān, but not so large as to stifle economic initiative and
thereby kill ‘umrān.
Ibn Khaldūn’s contribution to economic thought was unprecedented

for its time and places him at the very forefront of the history of economic
theory. If may even make him the ‘father’ of modern economics – a title
traditionally given to Adam Smith, whose eminent works were published
around three hundred and seventy years after Ibn Khaldūn’s death.
When Ibn Khaldūn wrote his Muqaddima, Islamic civilisation was
already in decline. Perhaps because of this, his methods and rules would
remain forgotten in the Muslim world for centuries. Nevertheless, his
ideas and methodology were extensively used by early modern European
scholars in the fields of sociology, political science, economics and history.
Ibn Khaldūn’s biography appeared in many European texts from as early
as the end of the seventeenth century, with the first translation of the
Muqaddima appearing in Europe in 1806.
Notes
1. Aziz Al-Azmeh, Ibn Khaldūn: An Essay in Reinterpretation (London: Frank
Cass & Company Ltd., 1982), 2-3.
2. Elmira Akhmetova, ‘Defining Civilisation and Religion,’ IAIS Journal of
Civilisation Studies 1, no.1 (2008): 47-8.
3. Ibn Khaldūn, The Muqaddimah: An Introduction to History, 2nd ed., trans.
Franz Rosenthal (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980), 1:320.
4. See, Ahmed Elyas Hussein, ‘Ibn Khaldun’s Contribution to Historical
Criticism,’ in Ibn Khaldun and Muslim Historiography, ed. Ahmed Ibrahim
Abushouk (Kuala Lumpur: International Islamic University Malaysia, 2003),
7-8.
5. Oweiss Ibrahim, ‘Ibn Khaldun, The Father of Economics,’ Georgetown
University. Available at: http://www9.georgetown.edu/faculty/imo3/ibn.
htm. (Accessed on: 13th August 2013).
6. George Firzly, ‘Ibn Khaldun: A Socio-Economic Study,’ Unpublished PhD
Thesis, University of Utah (1973), 213-4.
Further Reading
Hussein, Ahmed Elyas. ‘Ibn Khaldun’s Contribution to Historical Criticism.’ In
Ibn Khaldun and Muslim Historiography, edited by Ahmed Ibrahim Abushouk.
Kuala Lumpur: International Islamic University Malaysia, 2003.
Al-Azmeh, Aziz. Ibn Khaldūn: An Essay in Reinterpretation. London: Frank Cass

& Company Ltd., 1982.
Al-Mudamgha, Anwar Ameen. Ibn Khaldun’s Socio-Historical Theory: A Study in

the History of Ideas. Ann Arbor, Michigan: UMI Research Press, 1990.
Akhmetova, Elmira. ‘Defining Civilisation and Religion.’ IAIS Journal of

Civilisation Studies 1, no.1 (2008): 43-65.
Firzly, George S. ‘Ibn Khaldun: A SocioEconomic Study.’ Unpublished PhD

thesis, University of Utah, 1973.
Ibrahim, Oweiss. ‘Ibn Khaldun, The Father of Economics.’ Georgetown University.

Available at: http://www9.georgetown.edu/faculty/imo3/ibn.htm.
Rosenthal, Erwin I. J. Political Thought in Medieval Islam: An Introductory Outline.

Westport, CT: Greenwood Press Publishers, 1985.
Part Three
From Early Modernity to the

Twentieth Century
28
Hamzah al-Fansuri
(d.ca.1602)
Alexander Wain
Hamzah al-Fansuri is the first identifiable Southeast Asian Islamic scholar

to leave behind a substantial and systematic body of work. Very little,
however, is known about his life; although his nisba suggests he came
from Fansur (modern-day Barus, in north Sumatra), little else is certain.
As outlined below, he apparently travelled to the Middle East (notably
Makkah and Baghdad) and subscribed to the Wujūdiyya branch of Sufism
– that is, to the controversial Neo-Platonist brand of mystical philosophy
which argues for a unity between God and His creation.1 Besides these
points, however, most other aspects of Hamzah’s biography remain
unresolved – including when he lived.
Traditionally, scholarship has dated Hamzah’s death to the reign of
Aceh’s Sultan ‘Alauddin Ri‘ayat Shah (r.1588-1604). This conclusion is
based on a number of considerations. Firstly, Hamzah appears to have
dedicated a poem to this ruler, suggesting he survived into the latter’s reign.2
Second, in 1602 Aceh was visited by the British envoy, Sir James Lancaster.
While there, Lancaster negotiated a treaty with two Acehnese noblemen,
one of whom he described as a “wise and temperate” man who held great
favour with the king and knew fluent Arabic.3 Simply identified as Aceh’s
“chiefe bishope,” it has been speculated that this was Hamzah. Certainly,
there is no other known Acehnese religious figure of this stature from this
period.4 By the reign of Iskandar Muda (r.1607-1636), however, Hamzah
disappears from the scene. If mentioned at all – such as by Iskandar Muda’s
Shaykh al-Islām, Shams al-Din al-Samatrani (d.1630) – it is only briefly
and as a former presence in the kingdom.5 This strongly suggests that,
although still alive in 1602, Hamzah died before Iskandar Muda’s ascent
to the throne.
Despite the strength of this argument, in 2000 C. Guillot and L. Kalus

challenged it with an article detailing a discovery made in 1930s Makkah.6
Throughout that decade, the then director of Cairo’s Museum of Arab
Art, Gaston Wiet, had been attempting to compile a complete record of
Makkah’s early epigraphy with the ultimate aim of publishing the collected
material as a book entitled Corpus d’Inscriptions de la Mecque. He died,
however, before being able to complete his task and, as a result, his research
never appeared. Nevertheless, in the 1990s Guillot and Kalus gained access
to his notes. Amongst them, they discovered a copy of an inscription made
in 1934 by Wiet’s assistant, Hassan Mohammad el-Hawary. Made during
a visit to Makkah’s Bāb al-ma‘lā cemetery, it recorded a gravestone dated 9
Rajab 933/11 April 1527 and apparently inscribed with the name Ḥamza
bin ‘Abd Allāh al-Fansūrī.
.
7
According to the accompanying epitaph, this
Ḥamza bin ‘Abd Allāh al-Fansūrī . was “al-Shaykh al-ṣāliḥ [the devoted
Shaykh], a servant of God, [and] a zāhid [ascetic]” who bore the title
Sayyidinā. All this clearly identified him as a high-ranking Sufi. Moreover,
the inscription also called Ḥamzah bin ‘Abd Allāh al-Fansūrī . al-shaykh al-
murābiṭ, which Guillot and Kalus interpreted to mean a ‘combattant de la
frontière,’8 thereby implying that this individual came from the very edge
of the Islamic world. As a result, and despite their record of the inscription
being Wiet’s copy of el-Hawary’s own copy (the latter’s photograph had
disappeared, and no rubbing was ever made), Guillot and Kalus argued
that this grave almost certainly belonged to Southeast Asia’s Hamzah al-
Fansuri, thereby pushing his lifetime back into the late fifteenth and early
sixteenth centuries.
Although Guillot and Kalus have subsequently attempted to bolster
their argument with a range of additional details,9 their case has proven
unconvincing. This is for several reasons. First, there are questions
surrounding the veracity of the reading ‘Ḥamza bin ‘Abd Allāh al-Fansūrī’. .
As noted, Guillot and Kalus analyse the relevant inscription using only
a copy of a copy, with no further research (such as someone going to
Makkah to find the grave) to determine whether el-Hawary and/or Wiet
copied it correctly.10 Indeed, even if little reason exists to suppose Wiet
made a copyist’s error, el-Hawary could easily have done so: he was, after
all, working quickly in the midst of a busy cemetery. As V. Braginsky has
noted, many other nisba could, with the misplacement of a diacritical
mark or reproduction of a wrong letter, be mistaken for ‘al-Fansūrī’. .
For example, during this period North Africa’s premier Sufi centre was
Mansūra,
. which gives the nisba al-Mansūrī. . When written in Arabic, al-
Mansūrī
. potentially needs just a single misplaced dot to be transformed
HAMZAH AL-FANSURI 221
into al-Fansūrī.
. Indeed, in that context the gravestone’s description of
Ḥamza bin ‘Abd Allāh as an al-shaykh al-murābiṭ is significant.
As Guillot and Kalus note, murābiṭ at one time referred to a person
who, while being dedicated to the defence of Islam, lived on the edge
of the Islamic world. By the early sixteenth century, however, it signified
a Sufi saint. Although this would connect with Hamzah al-Fansuri, this
usage has always been primarily North African; in Southeast Asia, the
term khanqa has been preferred.11 The application of murābiṭ therefore
suggests a North African context. Given the similarity between the nisbas
al-Mansūrī
. and al-Fansūrī,
. Ḥamza bin ‘Abd Allāh may consequently have
been from Mansūra..
It is also unfortunate that Guillot and Kalus do not evaluate the
Acehnese traditions which locate Hamzah al-Fansuri’s grave at the
southernmost tip of Aceh, in Kampung Oboh (in Simpang Kiri,
Rudeng).12 If these traditions are correct, they refute any possibility that
Hamzah was buried in Makkah. Equally, Guillot and Kalus ignore the fact
that a lesser-known Sumatran scholar, Hasan al-Fansuri, names Hamzah as
his teacher, claiming that the latter taught him dhikr (the Sufi’s ritualised
remembrance of God). Although Hasan’s precise dates are unknown, his
writings utilise the work of the Gujarati Sufi, Muhammad
. ibn Fadlillāh
.
al-Burhānpūrī (d.1029/1620), notably the latter's al-Tuḥfa al-mursala ilā
rūḥ al-Nabī, written in 1590.13 Consequently, Hasan must post-date the
late sixteenth century. If he was Hamzah’s pupil, and if the latter died in
1527, Hasan must therefore have lived into his nineties, only finalising his
mystical philosophy at the very end of his life. Although this is technically
possible, it is unlikely: few lived that long during this period. Rather, it is
far more probable that Hamzah lived closer to 1590, thereby allowing (the
therefore much younger) Hasan to be both his pupil and, a few years later,
able to absorb influences from al-Burhānpūrī.
But perhaps most conclusively in favour of the original dating is the
fact that, although Hamzah does not explicitly date his writings, he does
claim to have been writing during the “season of the white man [orang
putih]”. Malay writers did not use the term orang putih until after the
arrival of the Dutch and the English in the late sixteenth century. Any
earlier than this and they would refer to Europeans as either pertugan
or peringgi (from the Arabic faranjī, meaning ‘Franks’).14 This strongly
suggests that Hamzah was writing at the end of the sixteenth/beginning of
the seventeenth century, just as has traditionally been thought.
Turning to Hamzah’s teachings, these constitute a form of Wujūdiyya
Sufism that, while being closely linked to the Qādiriyya ṭarīqa, draw
upon both the Persian and Arabic literate traditions. The precise nature
of Hamzah’s education, or the cauldron in which these ideas formed, is
complex. His poems, for example, mention a trip to the Middle East,
where he visited both Baghdad and Makkah. According to one poem, it
was in Baghdad that he was initiated into the Qādiriyya15 (although no
known Qādiriyya silsila preserves his name).16 In Makkah, on the other
hand, and despite actively seeking God, he did so unsuccessfully.17 Instead,
he claims final enlightenment came while he was visiting Shahr-i Nawi,
the Ayuthian capital:
The Hamzah who was originally from Fansur,
Found God [mendapat Wujud] in the land of Shahrnawi.18
Hamzah therefore claims to have completed his religious training
in Southeast Asia, in what is now Thailand. Certainly, the Portuguese
traveller, Fernão Mendes Pinto (d.1583), who travelled to Ayuthia in 1554,
observed many Turkish and Indian Muslims residing there.19 Hamzah’s
claim is therefore plausible; Wujūdiyya Sufism was very popular amongst
Indian Muslims during this period.20
To elaborate more fully on the nature of Wujūdiyya Sufism, this brand
of mysticism is largely derived from the thought of the famous medieval
Sufi, Ibn ‘Arabī (d.638/1240). He believed that God’s creation was an
extension of His own Essence, something which had grown out of Him (or
emanated from Him) in a series of stages, like a seed. By framing the issue
like this, Ibn ‘Arabī and his followers created what has been perceived by
many as a pantheistic worldview – that is, a worldview in which God and
His creation are one. For many Muslim scholars, this is controversial.21
Nonetheless, Hamzah drew fully upon both Ibn ‘Arabī and other noted
Wujūdiyya thinkers (like the Baghdadī mystic ‘Abd al-Karīm al-Jīlī,
d.1428, and ‘Abd al-Rahmān
. Jāmī, d.1492) to argue that creation emerged
from the Absolute Reality of God in a five-stage emanation.22 As a result,
however, and beginning with Nur al-Din al-Raniri (active in Aceh between
1637 and 1644), there have been long periods during which Hamzah’s
teachings have been spurned by the majority of Southeast Asian scholars.
Preferring to interpret God as transcendent (or fundamentally different
from His creation), these other scholars have largely rejected Wujūdiyya
teachings.
This does not mean, however, that Hamzah has been regionally
insignificant. On the contrary, despite sometimes falling out of favour,
many subsequent Southeast Asian scholars have taken their inspiration
directly from him. The aforementioned Shams al-Din al-Samatrani, for

example, described Hamzah as his teacher and essentially subscribed to the
same brand of Wujūdiyya-orientated mysticism.23 More recently, the post-
colonial period has seen a re-blossoming of interest in Hamzah’s work,
including its republication for a modern audience.
But more generally, it is Hamzah’s role as the initiator of a greater
scholarly connectivity between Southeast Asia, India and the Arab world
that is significant. Prior to him, few Southeast Asian religious texts showed
any awareness of the intellectual trends circulating in these other parts of
the Islamic world. Southeast Asia’s earliest Islamic works (from historical
chronicles like the Hikayat Raja Pasai to early Javanese religious texts like
the Kitab Bonang)24 demonstrated little specific knowledge of the Islamic
doctrines and/or legal questions circulating in either India or the Arab
world. Rather, they evidenced heavy Persian influence, usually mediated
through Central Asia. Although this Persianate influence did not end with
Hamzah,25 it did begin to decline with him: from his lifetime onwards,
Southeast Asian scholars (like al-Raniri, ‘Abd al-Ra’uf al-Singkili, d.1693,
or Muhammad Yusuf al-Maqassari, b.1627) spent significant amounts of
time studying in the Arabic-speaking world and/or India, familiarising
themselves with the depth of scholarship present in those regions.26 This
trend, which has continued right up to the present, eventually reshaped
Southeast Asian Islam. For example, it introduced Southeast Asia to
the ṭarīqas which would eventually dominate its mystical tradition – in
particular, the Makkan-based Shaṭṭāriyya and Indian-based Naqshbandiyya
orders.27 More importantly, however, it helped facilitate an exponential
rise in Ḥadramī
. influence throughout the region: beginning with al-Raniri
(whose father was probably a Ḥadramī . from the al-Ḥāmid branch of the
banī Zuhra, itself a branch of the Quraysh),28 Ḥadramī
. Arabs would come
to occupy prominent religious positions throughout Southeast Asia. By
the eighteenth century, they were also marrying into local ruling elites
(even becoming Sultans on occasion).29 From these places of influence,
Hadramīs
. . were ultimately able to project their Shāfi‘ī-based version of
Islam right across Southeast Asia. It was arguably with Hamzah that this
process began.30
Notes
1. See Hamzah Fansuri, The Poems of Hamzah Fansuri, ed. and trans. G. W.
J. Drewes and L. F. Brakel, Bibliotheca Indonesica 26 (Dordrecht: Foris
Publications, 1986).
2. The relevant poem does not provide a name for the ruler, only calling him
Shāh ‘Ālam. This, however, was a title applied to Sultan ‘Alauddin Ri‘ayat
Shah, see Syed Muhammad Naguib al-Attas, Rānīrī and the Wujūdiyyah
of 17th Century Acheh, Monographs of the Malaysian Branch Royal Asiatic
Society No. III (Singapore: Malaysian Printers Ltd., 1966), 44.
3. James Lancaster, The Voyages of Sir James Lancaster to Brazil and the East
Indies, 1591-1603, ed. William Foster (London: The Hakluyt Society, 1940),
96. Another Englishman, John Davies, who visited the region between 1598
and 1603, also refers to the “archbishop” of Aceh; favoured by the king, the
people called him a prophet and he was allowed to wear separate apparel
from everyone else, see John Davies, The Voyages and Works of John Davies,
ed. Albert Hastings Markham (London: The Hakluyt Society, 1880), 151.
4. Azymardi Azra, The Origins of Islamic Reformism in Southeast Asia: Networks
of Malay-Indonesian and Middle Eastern ‘Ulama’ in the Seventeenth and
Eighteenth Centuries (Honolulu: Asian Studies Association of Australia, Allen
& Unwin and University of Hawai’i Press, 2004), 53.
5. Ibid, 53.
6. There is also an Indonesian version of their article, Claude Guillot and Ludvik
Kalus, ‘Batu Nisan Hamzah Fansuri,’ Jurnal Terjemahan Alam dan Tamadun
Melayu 1 (2009): 27-49.
7. Claude Guillot and Ludvik Kalus, ‘La stèle funéraire de Hamzah Fansuri,’
Archipel 60 (2000): 5-6.
8. Ibid, 6.
9. Ibid, 14.
10. Vladimir I. Braginsky, ‘On the Copy of Hamzah Fansuri’s Epitaph Published
by C. Guillot & L. Kalus,’ Archipel 62 (2001): 22-4.
11. Cesar Adib Majul, Muslims in the Philippines (Quezon City: The University
of the Philippines Press, 1999), 82.
12. Braginsky, ‘Hamzah Fansuri’s Epitaph,’ 28.
13. Azra, Origins of Islamic Reformism in Southeast Asia, 41.
14. Al-Attas, Rānīrī and the Wujūdiyyah, 9.
15. Fansuri, Poems, poem XVI.
16. Martin van Bruinessen, ‘Origins and Development of the Sufi Orders
(tarekat) in Southeast Asia,’ Studia Islamika 1, no. 1 (1994): 6.
17. Fansuri, Poems, poem XXI.
18. Ibid, 5.
19. Fernão Mendes Pinto, The Travels of Mendes Pinto, ed. and trans. Rebecca D.
Catz (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1989), 307.
20. Fansuri, Poems, 5.
21. Julian Baldick, Mystical Islam: An Introduction to Sufism (London: Tauris
Parke, 2000), 83.
22. See Fansuri, Poems.
23. Azra, Origins of Islamic Reformism in Southeast Asia, 42.
24. See Russell Jones, ed., Hikayat Raja Pasai (Kuala Lumpur: Yayasan Karyawan
dan Penerbit Fajar Bakti, 1999) and G. W. J. Drewes, ed. and trans., Kitab
Bonang (The Admonitions of Seh Bari), Bibliotheca Indonesica 4 (The Hague:
Martinus Nijhoff, 1969).
25. On the contrary, his work shows some considerable signs of Persian influence:
not only is his poetry an impersonation of Persian ghazal poetry, but Persian
quotations appear throughout his work. In fact, overall Hamzah demonstrates
a far profounder knowledge of Persian literature than of Arabic; while the vast
majority of his Arabic quotations are Qur‘anic, with some from the hadith, his
Persian quotations come from a very diverse range of sources, including the
Sufis al-Bistāmī (d.874), Junayd al-Baghdādī (d.910) and al-Ḥallāj (d.922),
see al-Attas, Rānīrī and the Wujūdiyyah, 45-6. He even accessed al-Ghazālī’s
Iḥyā’ ‘ulūm al-dīn through its Persian abridgement, Kimiya-i sa’adat, see
Fansuri, Poems, 14. In all probability, this tendency towards Persian literature
reflects the continuation of earlier Southeast Asian trends, thereby providing
further evidence that Hamzah completed his religious training in Southeast
Asia, rather than the Middle East.
26. Azra, Origins of Islamic Reformism in Southeast Asia, 57, 71, 87-8.
27. Ibid, 57; 71; 87-8.
28. Ibid, 54.
29. Engseng Ho, The Graves of Tarim: Genealogy and Mobility across the Indian
Ocean (Berkley, CA: University of California Press, 2006), 98, 104.
30. Syed Farid Alatas, ‘Hadhramaut and the Hadhrami Diaspora: Problems
in Theoretical History,’ in Hadhrami Traders, Scholars and Statesmen in the
Indian Ocean, 1750s-1960s, ed. Ulrike Freitag and William G. Clarence-
Smith (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1997), 25.
Further Reading
Alatas, Syed Farid. ‘Hadhramaut and the Hadhrami Diaspora: Problems in
Theoretical History.’ In Hadhrami Traders, Scholars and Statesmen in the Indian
Ocean, 1750s-1960s, edited by Ulrike Freitag and William G. Clarence-Smith,
19-34. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1997.
Al-Attas, Syed Muhammad Naguib. Rānīrī and the Wujūdiyyah of 17th Century
Acheh, Monographs of the Malaysian Branch Royal Asiatic Society No. III.
Singapore: Malaysian Printers Ltd., 1966.
Azra, Azymardi. The Origins of Islamic Reformism in Southeast Asia: Networks of

Malay-Indonesian and Middle Eastern ‘Ulama’ in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth
Centuries. Honolulu: Asian Studies Association of Australia, Allen & Unwin
and University of Hawai’i Press, 2004.
Baldick, Julian. Mystical Islam: An Introduction to Sufism. London: Tauris Parke,

2000.
Braginsky, Vladimir I. ‘On the Copy of Hamzah Fansuri’s Epitaph Published by

C. Guillot and L. Kalus.’ Archipel 62 (2001): 21-33.
Bruinessen, Martin van. ‘Origins and Development of the Sufi Orders (tarekat) in
Southeast Asia.’ Studia Islamika 1, no. 1 (1994): 1-23.
Davies, John. The Voyages and Works of John Davies. Edited by Albert Hastings
Markham. London: The Hakluyt Society, 1880.
Drewes, G. W. J., ed. and trans. Kitab Bonang (The Admonitions of Seh Bari),
Bibliotheca Indonesica 4. The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1969.
Engseng Ho. The Graves of Tarim: Genealogy and Mobility across the Indian Ocean.
Berkley, CA: University of California Press, 2006.
Fansuri, Hamzah. The Poems of Hamzah Fansuri, Bibliotheca Indonesia 26.

Edited and translated by G. W. J. Drewes and L. F. Brakel. Dordrecht: Foris
Publications, 1986.
Guillot, Claude, and Ludvik Kalus. ‘Batu Nisan Hamzah Fansuri.’ Jurnal
Terjemahan Alam dan Tamadun Melayu 1 (2009): 27-49.
______________________________. ‘La stèle funéraire de Hamzah Fansuri.’

Archipel 60 (2000): 3-24.
Jones, Russell, ed. Hikayat Raja Pasai. Kuala Lumpur: Yayasan Karyawan dan
Penerbit Fajar Bakti, 1999.
Lancaster, James. The Voyages of Sir James Lancaster to Brazil and the East Indies,
1591-1603. Edited by William Foster. London: The Hakluyt Society, 1940.
Majul, Cesar Adib. Muslims in the Philippines. Quezon City: The University of the
Philippines Press, 1999.
Pinto, Fernão Mendes. The Travels of Mendes Pinto. Edited and translated by
Rebecca D. Catz. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1989.
29
Liu Zhi1
(ca.1670-1739CE)
Alexander Wain
What is recorded in the books of Islam [tianfang] is no different

from what is in the Confucian canon. Observing and practicing the
proprieties of Islam is like observing and practicing the teachings of
the ancient sages and kings.
Liu Zhi, Tianfang dianli
Liu Zhi (ca.1670-1739), also known as Liu Jia Lian, was born in the
former Chinese imperial capital of Nanjing.2 Little is known about his
background and personal life – only that his relatives considered him too
studious and, therefore, quite dull! He was, however, a member of China’s
Hui community. With roots stretching back to the seventh century,
the Hui were (and continue to be) a sizable community of Sinicised
Muslims.3 Originally descended from a transient population of Persian
and Arab merchants, by the seventeenth century the Hui were fully
acculturated Chinese Muslims: they spoke Chinese, wore Chinese clothing
and observed Chinese customs. Because of (in some cases centuries of )
intermarriage, they also appeared physically identical to the Han (China’s
dominant ethnic group).4 Despite this level of acculturation, however, the
Hui maintained their Islamic heritage – a Ḥanafī-based form of Islam that,
coloured by traditional Chinese culture, is often termed gedimu (from the
Arabic qadīm, meaning ‘old’).5 From the seventeenth century onwards,
this type of Islam was further supplemented by various Sufi. tarīqa, in
particular the Qādariyya, Naqshbandiyya and Kubrawiyya.6 Liu Zhi was
born into the heart of this cultural milieu, at a point when the gedimu and
Sufi traditions were beginning to interact. By the end of his life, he would
be the Hui’s leading scholar, representing the pinnacle of their intellectual
tradition. Even today, and despite the increasing influence of Wahhābī

thought throughout modern-day China, for whom both the gedimu and
Sufism are anathema, Liu Zhi’s ideas remain popular amongst Chinese
Muslims in general.7
Liu Zhi’s education began in his native Nanjing, in a school established
by the leading Hui educational master, Yuan Shengzhi. The latter was a
relative of Liu Zhi’s father, Liu Hanying (also known as Liu Sanjie), and a
disciple of the great Chinese Muslim educational reformer, Hu Dengzhou
(also known as either Puchao or Muhammad . Ibrāhīm Ilyās, d.1597).
Often called taishi (Great Teacher), Hu Dengzhou had travelled widely
throughout the Islamic world. After encountering many great centres of
Islamic learning, he became deeply concerned about the plight of Hui
Islamic education. When he returned to his homeland, he therefore began
work on establishing a rejuvenated education system. At its centre, he
proposed that gedimu learning cease to be transmitted in the ancestral Hui
languages of Persian and Arabic, and as had previously been the case. Instead,
he favoured Chinese, by then was the lingua franca of the Hui community.
Beginning in his home county of Xianyang (in Shaanxi province), Hu
Dengzhou therefore created a new brand of Chinese-language-based
Islamic learning. By the seventeenth century, this had spread to several
important Hui centres, including Xian, Jining, Kaifeng and Nanjing.8
Most importantly, Hu Dengzhou’s decision to express Islamic learning in
a non-Islamic idiom (i.e. Chinese) provided the inspiration for a radically
different approach to Islamic thought. Known as the Hān Kitāb (from
han qitabu, literally meaning a Chinese Islamic book), this new school of
thought tried to perfect the gedimu’s blend of Islamic and Chinese customs
via a systematic positioning of Islamic teachings within the broader context
of orthodox Chinese thought.9 By the time of his death in 1739, Liu Zhi
would encapsulate the culmination of this philosophical approach; the
seeds planted in his mind by Yuan Shengzhi blossomed into the epitome
of what could be achieved within the boundaries of the Hān Kitāb.10
Before Liu Zhi could reach this potential, however, he had to undertake
an extensive programme of study. Beginning at age fifteen, and after
leaving Yuan Shengzhi’s care, he spent eight years studying the traditional
Chinese classics and histories, followed by a further six years studying
Arabic and Islamic texts. He then moved on to Buddhism (three years) and
Daoism (one year), before rounding off his education with one hundred
and thirty-seven Western (Xiyang) books – a collection of European texts
introduced into seventeenth-century China by the Jesuits.11 Exposure to
this programme of study gave Liu Zhi an extremely broad intellectual
LIU ZHI 229
foundation; not only was he fully versed in the Islamic tradition, but equally
well qualified to be a member of the Chinese literati. This joint identity led
to an important realisation: utilising the breadth of his knowledge, Liu Zhi
developed a conviction that Islam’s universal nature meant Islamic thought
could not be inward looking. In his own words:
The sacred book is the sacred book of Islam, but li [justice] is the
same li which exists everywhere under Heaven.12
In other words, and building on his Sincised gedimu heritage, Liu Zhi
considered both Islam and Confucianism to be expressions of the same
universal truth. Liu Zhi argued that both Confucius and the other Chinese
sages had been, and just like the Prophet Muhammad,
. bearers of Divine
inspiration. On this basis, Liu Zhi developed a strong desire to reach out
to the Confucian Chinese establishment, to reconcile them to Islam.13
With this imperative in mind, after completing his studies Liu Zhi
took up residence at the foot of Nanjing’s Qingliangshan Mountain, in
a studio called Saoyelou (House of Sweeping Leaves). There he began
translating Arabic texts into Chinese. In addition, he also composed several
hundred original Chinese-language manuscripts, all seeking to relate Islam
to Confucianism. Although only one tenth of these were ever published,
three became very influential: the Tianfang Xingli (The Principles of Islam,
published in 1704),14 the Tianfang Dianli (The Rules and Proprieties
of Islam, 1710)15 and the Tianfang Zhisheng Shilu (The Record of the
Prophet of Islam, 1724).16 The first focused on usūl . al-dīn (specifically,
on tawhīd,
. nubuwwa and ma‘ād), the second on furū‘ al-dīn (the branches
and applications of faith), and the last on a biography of the Prophet
(based primarily on a Persian translation of the work of Muḥammad ibn
Mas‘ūd al-Kāzarūnī, d.1357).17 Significantly, Liu Zhi intended these three
texts to be read together; through them he was attempting to describe
the three stages of Sufism – namely, the Sharia (i.e. the way), the tarīqa
.
(the teachings) and the ḥaqīqa (the Reality of God, as embodied in the
example of the Prophet). By doing so, Liu Zhi’s intention was to parallel
traditional Chinese philosophy, where discussions begin with the dao
(theoretical underpinning), before moving on to the jiao (the concrete,
relative and practical vehicle of the dao) and then the Sages who act as
the bridge between these points.18 In other words, Liu Zhi was aiming to
express Islam in the same terms as traditional Chinese thought.
Indeed, to further facilitate this task, Liu Zhi adopted a very
unconventional approach to his topic. His work on furū‘ al-dīn, for
example, is by no means typical of the genre. Most Islamic texts falling
under this heading are works of fiqh (jurisprudence), designed to illustrate

methods of ibāda (such as prayer). Liu Zhi’s discussion, however, centres
on the theoretical underpinnings behind Islamic rituals. In other words,
he is not interested in describing how (for example) Muslims pray (and,
indeed, his text cannot be used as a guide on that matter), but only with
establishing why they pray. By delving into these theological matters, Liu
Zhi sought to highlight numerous parallels between Islamic teachings and
those of the ancient Chinese sages, frequently expressing Islamic concepts
in Confucian terms. As a result, he managed to bridge the gap between
the two traditions, merging their essential ideologies into a single whole.
Certainly, his efforts in this regard were by no means unsuccessful: Liu
Zhi’s biography of the Prophet, for example, was honoured with a preface
by China’s Vice-Minister of the Board of Ritual, who wrote:
The ancient Confucian doctrine has been undermined at different
times by Buddhists and Taoists…now, however, in this book of Liu
Zhi we see once more the way of the ancient sages, Yao and Shun,
King Wen and King Wu and Confucius. Thus, although this book
explains Islam, in truth it illuminates our Confucianism.19
Likewise, the Vice-Minister of the Board of War contributed a preface
to Liu Zhi’s book on furū‘ al-dīn, stating that the minister, while discussing
Islam with Liu Zhi, had come to the realisation that it upheld traditional
Confucian values (such as loyalty to the Sovereign, filial piety and brotherly
love).20 Indeed, this text was later included in the Siku quanshu (The
Complete Library of Four Sections), history’s largest compilation of Chinese
books, initiated by the Qianlong Emperor in 1772. Inclusion in this Imperial
project gave Liu Zhi’s text official Neo-Confucian recognition.21
But Liu Zhi’s appeal to traditional Chinese values, did not result in
a neglect of his Islamic learning. On the contrary, the above three texts
referenced a total of sixty-six Islamic sources. Although varied in nature,
many of these were Ishrāqiyya (or Illuminationist) Sufi works from the
Central Asian Kubrawiyya ṭarīqa. Thus, the two works Liu Zhi cited the
most are both Kubrawiyya: the Mirsād . al-‘ibād min al-mabda’ ila’l-ma‘ād
of Najm al-Dīn al-Rāzī (d.1247) and the Maqsad-i aqsā of ‘Azīz al-Nasafī
(d.ca.1300). In addition, Liu Zhi also drew upon Shāfi’ī works and the
mystical philosophy of Ibn ‘Arabī – Nasafī, for example, as a disciple of
Sa’d al-Dīn Ḥammūyya (d.1252), was both a Shāfi’ī scholar and a follower
of Ibn ‘Arabī. Ibn ‘Arabī’s philosophy also entered Liu Zhi’s work via two
other important texts: the Ashi‘ ‘at al-lama‘āt and the Lawā’ih, . both by
‘Abd al-Raḥmān Jāmī (d.1492).22
LIU ZHI 231
By drawing upon both Islamic and Chinese texts, Liu Zhi demonstrated
a truly international mind set. Determined to fully reconcile the Chinese and
Islamic intellectual traditions, he was unafraid to highlight commonalities
between them and see in those similarities the hand of God. After his
death, Liu Zhi became a local walī (saint) in northwest China, where his
name appears in many hagiographical texts as the spiritual forbearer of
several important regional shaykhs.23 Liu Zhi’s grave, located outside the
southern gate of Nanjing, is still an object of veneration for many Chinese
Muslims today.24
Notes
1. This biographical sketch is based on my much more detailed article,
Alexander Wain, ‘Islam in China: The Hān Kitāb Tradition in the Writings
of Wang Daiyu, Ma Zhu and Liu Zhi, With a Note on Their Relevance for
Contemporary Islam,’ Islam and Civilisational Renewal 7, no. 1 (2016): 27-
46.
2. Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd ed., s.v. ‘Liu Chih.’
3. According Hui legend, their community was first established by “Sa Ha
Bo Sa Ha Di Wo Ge Si” – that is, by the ṣaḥāba Sa‘d ibn Abī Waqqās,
the Prophet Muhammad’s
. maternal uncle. The Hui claim that Sa‘d ibn
Abī Waqqās travelled to China during the reign of the Gaozong Emperor
(r.649-683). According to the Hui, he succeeded in meeting Gaozong, who
became favourably impressed with Islam’s teachings, feeling them to be akin
to Confucianism. As a result, Sa‘d was allowed to remain in China and build
the first mosque in Guangzhou. The Hui claim Sa‘d’s grave can still be seen
there. See Haiyun Ma, ‘The Mythology of [the] Prophet's Ambassadors in
China: Histories of Sa‘d Waqqas and Gess in Chinese Sources,’ Journal of
Muslim Minority Affairs 26, no. 3 (2006): 446.
4. Raphael Israeli, Islam in China: Religion, Ethnicity, Culture, and Politics
(Oxford: Lexington Books, 2002), 113.
5. Dru C. Gladney, Muslim Chinese: Ethnic Nationalism in the People’s Republic
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1996), 37.
6. Dru C. Gladney, Dislocating China: Reflections on Muslims, Minorities, and
other Subaltern Groups (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 2004),
128-30.
7. Ibid, 134.
8. Sachiko Murata, William C. Chittick and Tu Weiming, The Sage Learning
of Liu Zhi: Islamic Thought in Confucian Terms (Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press, 2009), 4-5.
9. Encyclopedia of Islam, 3rd ed., s.v. ‘Chinese Muslim Literature.’
10. Zvi Ben-Dor Benite, The Dao of Muhammad: A Cultural History of Muslims
in Late Imperial China (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center,
2005), 144-5.
11. Encyclopedia of Islam, s.v. ‘Liu Chih.’
12. Cited in J. F. Ford, ‘Some Chinese Muslims of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth
Centuries,’ Asian Affairs 5, no. 2 (1974): 150.
14. See Murata, Chittick and Tu, Sage Learning.
15. See James D. Frankel, Rectifying God’s Name: Liu Zhi’s Confucian Translation
of Monotheism and Islamic Law (Honolulu, HI: University of Hawai’i Press,
2011).
16. See Isaac Mason, The Arabian Prophet: A Life of Mohammed from Chinese
and Arabic Sources, a Chinese Muslim Work by Liu Chia-lien (Shanghai:
Commercial Press, 1921).
17. Murata, Chittick and Tu, Sage Learning, 6-9.
18. Ibid, 8-9. Murata identifies a fourth Sufi stage, ma‘rifa (final mystical
knowledge of God), which she accuses Liu Zhi of neglecting in order to
maintain his threefold parallel. Sufis, however, often subsume ma‘rifa under
ṭarīqah, meaning there is not necessarily any inconsistency here.
19. Cited in Encyclopedia of Islam, s.v. ‘Liu Chih.’
21. Murata et al., Sage Learning, 6.
22. Murata, Chittick and Tu, Sage Learning, 10-14.
23. Encyclopedia of Islam, s.v. ‘Chinese Muslim Literature.’
Further Reading
Benite, Zvi Ben-Dor. The Dao of Muhammad: A Cultural History of Muslims in
Late Imperial China. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center, 2005.
Ford, J. F. ‘Some Chinese Muslims of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries.’

Asian Affairs 5, no. 2 (1974): 144-156.
Frankel, James D. Rectifying God’s Name: Liu Zhi’s Confucian Translation of

Monotheism and Islamic Law. Honolulu, HI: University of Hawai’i Press, 2011.
Gladney, Dru C. Dislocating China: Reflections on Muslims, Minorities, and other

Subaltern Groups. Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 2004.
_____________. Muslim Chinese: Ethnic Nationalism in the People’s Republic.

Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1996.
Haiyun Ma. ‘The Mythology of [the] Prophet's Ambassadors in China: Histories

of Sa‘d Waqqas and Gess in Chinese Sources.’ Journal of Muslim Minority
Affairs 26, no. 3 (2006): 445-452.
Israeli, Raphael. Islam in China: Religion, Ethnicity, Culture, and Politics. Oxford:
Lexington Books, 2002.
LIU ZHI 233
Mason, Isaac. The Arabian Prophet: A Life of Mohammed from Chinese and Arabic
Sources, a Chinese Muslim Work by Liu Chia-lien. Shanghai: Commercial Press,
1921.
Murata, Sachiko, William C. Chittick and Tu Weiming. The Sage Learning of Liu
Zhi: Islamic Thought in Confucian Terms. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press, 2009.
Wain, Alexander. ‘Islam in China: The Hān Kitāb Tradition in the Writings
of Wang Daiyu, Ma Zhu and Liu Zhi, With a Note on Their Relevance for
Contemporary Islam.’ Islam and Civilisational Renewal 7, no. 1 (2016): 27-46.
30
Shāh Walī Allāh al-Dihlawī
(1703-1762CE)
Tengku Ahmad Hazri
Shāh Walī Allāh of Delhi (1703–1762), born Quṭb al-Dīn Aḥmad b. Shāh
‘Abd al-Raḥīm, was an Indian reformist scholar and mystic philosopher.
Praised by Muhammad Iqbal (d.1938) as the first Muslim scholar to
“rethink the whole system of Islam without completely breaking with
the past,” Walī Allāh’s intellectual project evinced a desire to re-enchant
every minutiae of life with glitters of the transcendent. His mission
was to reform the intellectual and sociopolitical conditions of his time,
motivating him to attempt an illumination of the inner meaning of Islam
through a new discipline called ‘ilm asrār al-dīn (science of the subtle
meanings of religion), which some have understood to be a new form of
kalām (scholastic theology). Underlying the versatility and eclecticism of
his writings was a coherent vision affirming diversity within unity.
While learning much from the leading scholars of his time, the most
influential personality in Walī Allāh’s education was his own father, Shāh
‘Abd al-Raḥīm (d.1719). Much of Walī Allāh’s philosophy bore his father’s
imprint: ‘Abd al-Raḥīm’s chief concern was hikmat-e ‘amali (practical
philosophy), where theoretical formulations were saturated with pragmatic
considerations. Walī Allāh inherited this perspective, helping him propel his
mission to reform the intellectual and sociopolitical conditions of his time,
when the Mughal Empire was in its twilight. ‘Abd al-Raḥīm also initiated
Walī Allāh into the Naqshbandiyya Sufi order when he was just fifteen. He
also founded the religious school, Madrasa Raḥīmiyya, where Walī Allāh
would later teach and eventually succeed his father as head.
As a youth, Walī Allāh spent fourteen months visiting the Holy
Sanctuaries. These impressed him profoundly; while there he experienced
mystical visions, chronicled in his Fuyūḍ al-Ḥaramayn (Over-Flowings of the
SHĀH WALĪ ALLĀH AL-DIHLAWĪ 235
Two Sanctuaries). In one of these, he saw the Prophet Muḥammad embrace

him and dress him in a special robe – perhaps symbolising the ‘robe’ of
demonstrative proof (below). This drove him to pursue his intellectual
career with the ‘divine’ assurance of his destiny as the “seal of the sages” (a
phrase from his work al-Khayr al-Kathīr, ‘The Abundant Virtue’).
Writings
Walī Allāh’s major works include his magnum opus, Ḥujjat Allāh al-bāligha
(The Conclusive Argument for God), which treated his new discipline
of ‘ilm asrār al-dīn, shaping it as a kind of ‘philosophy of religion’
synthesising diverse fields of learning, from metaphysics and cosmology
to jurisprudence and political theory. Additionally, Walī Allāh also wrote:
al-Budūr al-bazīgha (Full Moon on the Horizon), a condensed version
of his Hujjat;
. al-Fawz al-kabīr fī usūl
. al-tafsīr (The Great Triumph in the
Principles of Exegesis), on the principles of Qur’anic commentary; and
Alṭāf al-Quds, on Sufi psychology and epistemology. He also wrote several
treatises on jurisprudence, including ‘Iqd al-jīd fī ahkām . al-ijtihād wa
al-taqlīd (Chaplet On Rules for Ijtihād and Taqlīd) and al-Insāf . fī bayān
sabab al-ikhtilāf (Just Clarification On Causes of Juristic Disagreement).
Underlying the versatility and eclecticism of these writings was a coherent
vision affirming a unity between metaphysics and religion, thereby aiming
to eliminate divisive tendencies. This unified worldview is displayed in even
his most peripheral inquiries, such as in his juristic theory – e.g. against
the conventional argument that ijmā‘ requires total consensus amongst the
mujtahid, Walī Allāh advocated a ‘relative’ consensus consistent with his
support of diversity.
Walī Allāh firmly established his philosophy on a teleological footing.
According to him, all things were made towards the service of the cosmic
telos, or the al-maslaha
. . al-kulliyya (universal comprehensive benefit). The
process of change and flux were therefore dialectically interpreted, so that
tensions between different elements of the universe – whether between the
different faculties of the soul, the various elements in society, or different
states in a global political order – were seen as part of the Divine project,
whereby their resolution elevated them to a higher level and ultimately
resulted in the fulfilment of their destined role in the total scheme of creation.
This provided a cosmological basis for understanding change and diversity
in the created world. To accomplish this project, Walī Allāh expanded his
inquiries beyond a strictly ‘religious’ or ‘spiritual’ discourse to embrace a
civilisational context wherein these values could find full expression.
Diversity and Civilisations

These considerations explain Walī Allāh’s tolerant and pluralistic views. In
what resembles a proto-cosmopolitan philosophy, Walī Allāh affirmed the
centrality of custom in social life, the elimination of which would drag
man down to his lowest common denominator. Even in his elucidation
of religion, Walī Allāh did not simply conflate this concept with Islam.
Rather, he explained ‘religion’ as an archetypal reality inscribed into an
imaginal world (‘alam al-mithāl) reminiscent of (but different from) the
Platonic ‘World of Forms’. This reality instantiated gradually, by phases
and throughout history, until its cycle of revelation and manifestation in
the phenomenal world became finalised in the religion sent to Muhammad.
.
But notwithstanding the finality of the prophethood of Muhammad,
. the
messages sent to earlier prophets did not fade into oblivion; they were not
just given a ‘message’ as is commonly understood – i.e. inviting people to
God in the ‘religious’ sense – but also charged with setting up a spiritual,
moral, psychological, cultural, social infrastructure capable of preparing
humanity for receiving the call to God. This infrastructure could assume
many forms, including social institutions, branches of knowledge, or even
particular types of craftsmanship.
In Walī Allāh’s interpretation of ‘religion’, humanity is by default
encoded with theomorphic sensibilities designated as fiṭra (innate
disposition). If humanity does not turn to God, or denies Him, it is
because their soul is blemished by ‘veils to fiṭra’ that operate on several
fronts: physio-biological, customary, and in relation to false conceptions
of God. These veils have to be confronted on their own battlefields.
The Prophet Idrīs, for example, was “raised…to a lofty station” (Qur’an
19:57). Walī Allāh interpreted this to mean that Idrīs ascended to a higher
level of reality, endowing him with superior knowledge of metaphysics
from which sprang forth such individual sciences as medicine, astronomy,
anatomy, and psychology – all applications of immutable metaphysical
principles to specific domains of contingent reality. In this manner,
Idrīs’s metaphysical insights served as the foundation for knowledge in
his time.
Indeed, all prophets were given more than just a religious message;
they also received knowledge of socio-spiritual infrastructures. These
infrastructures Walī Allāh called irtifāqāt (singular: irtifāq ‘support
of civilisation’), by which he intended the place at which the spiritual/
mystical and civilisational intersect. Noah’s Ark, David’s metallurgical gifts
and Solomon’s unique political kingdom (spanning cross-dimensional
territories) were all manifestations of irtifāqāt. Walī Allāh even included

the advancement of irtifāqāt as part of the ‘objectives of the Lawgiver’
(maqāsid
. al-shāri‘a).
Rationality and the Supra-natural Cosmos

Among Walī Allāh’s major concerns was the need to rationalise religious
truths. He believed that “the divine law of Muḥammad would shine forth in
this age by being presented in long and loose-fitting robes of demonstrative
proof ” (recall his vision at the Ḥaramayn and the special robe), as well
as the integration of mundane human affairs into spiritual life. To this
end, Walī Allāh incorporated certain elements into his philosophy which
would normally feature as ‘supra-natural realities’. In fact, according to
Fazlur Rahman, Walī Allāh “naturalises the so-called supra-natural and
supra-naturalises the so-called natural,” while also unifying them into an
emanationist cosmology by means of his concept of the ‘great theophany’
(al-tajallī al-aʿẓam). The latter indicates the Divine ‘self-disclosure’, when
the many worlds are seen as one harmonious continuum. For example, the
Highest Council (al-mala’ al-aʿlā – see Qur’an 37:8 and 38:69), while
representing the apex of the angelic realm, nevertheless participates in the
ordinary life of humankind, from praying for the righteous servants of
God to the transmission of knowledge from its divine origin to the human
world.
From these premises, it follows that man is capable of knowing things
beyond the immediacy of his sense-perception. To reflect this, Walī Allāh
created a special classification of knowledge capable of accommodating
this broader understanding. In his scheme, the sciences were divided into
ʿilm al-manqūlāt (transmitted sciences), ʿilm al-maʿqūlāt (intellectual
sciences), and ʿilm al-mukāshafāt (revelatory sciences). Elsewhere, he
also spoke of ʿilm al-ḥuṣūlī (knowledge by ratiocination – i.e. knowledge
mediated through the process of thought and reasoning) and ʿilm al-
ḥuḍūrī (knowledge by presence – i.e. direct or immediate knowledge).
Corresponding to these different types of knowledge were the plurality of
the faculties of cognition, or the means by which knowledge is perceived.
In this regard, humanity is not left alone: given its intrinsic susceptibility
to be distanced from its own fiṭra, humanity is guided to religion (dīn) via
the prophets. Over the course of time, their messages are institutionalised
(milla) so that humanity can be constantly reminded to return to its fiṭrī
(primordial nature).
Knowledge and Self-transformation

In terms of knowledge, religion supplies the possibility of traversing
the higher cognitive-mystical highlands, thereby yielding insights into
otherwise occluded dimensions of reality and existence. In the case
of Islam, religion also prescribes a means of purifying the soul and its
cognitive faculties through the Sharia (sacred law). The Sharia works both
as a regulation of social life and as a therapeutic exercise, enabling one to
maintain an optimum spiritual state. Such knowledge is not discursively
formulated, but rather encrypted in the form of rites, rituals and worship,
the interior dimensions of which await discovery through learning wedded
to spiritual discipline and mystic realisation. In Walī Allāh’s eyes, this reality
justifies the human need for prophecy; the latter yields an understanding
into such matters as fasting, prayer, and other practices. Nonetheless, Walī
Allāh recognised that the Sharia was addressed generally, to humanity as
a whole, and therefore did not take into account the distinctive spiritual
needs of different individuals. This is why for Walī Allāh knowledge of the
inner dimensions of religion – which also subsume a penetrative insight
into the nature of reality – became indispensable if the true message of
religion were to be realised within a civilisational framework.
The purpose of soaring into the higher echelons of knowledge is to tap
into its inner reservoir, and thereby effectuate transformation in this all-too-
human world in a way reminiscent of the prophets themselves. Walī Allāh’s
sociopolitical theory – coloured no doubt by Naqshbandiyya teachings,
which enjoin social activism as part of spiritual training – envisioned a
civilisational context where the vagaries of life presented the individual
with the formidable task of cooperation and collaboration with others
towards the establishment of the necessary irtifāqāt. Indeed, according
to Walī Allāh, knowledge of irtifāqāt is one of the three characteristics
distinguishing humans from the animals – the other two being aesthetic
sensibility (ẓarāfa) and universalist vision (al-ra’y al-kullī).
Employing creative psycho-spiritual typologies derived in part from
scripture, Walī Allāh devised a social order in which individuals played
a predetermined role conforming to their distinctive personality traits.
For example, the highest state of individual psycho-spiritual equilibrium
produces the ‘Foremost’ (sābiqūn). Next come the ‘Companions of
the Right Hand’ (aṣḥāb al-yamīn), while at the lowest level are the
‘Companions of the Left Hand’ (aṣḥāb al-shamāl). The role one is to
play is influenced partly by physical temperament (mīzāj), which in turn
shapes the constitution of those of the Soul’s faculties which determine
one’s particular strengths and shortcomings. Walī Allāh even classified

the prophets in terms of this system, seeing them as either ‘the instructed
ones’ (mufahhamūn), caliphs (khalīfa, like David and Solomon), warners
(mundhir, like Ṣāliḥ) or sages (ḥakīm).
In the post-prophetic era, the irtifāqāt have to be worked out with the
guidance of revelation and Sharia. In light of this, Sharia should not be
seen in an exclusively deontological sense, but also teleologically. That is,
it is ultimately meant to secure the benefit of humanity and all creation.
Although it may be argued that the rulings of Sharia do not have beneficial
purposes (maṣāliḥ) and that there is no relationship between human
action and that which Allāh makes requital for, with the obligations of
Sharia being like the case of a master who wants to test the obedience
of his servant by ordering him to lift a stone or touch a tree (i.e. an act
which has no use besides testing obedience), this is a false idea refuted by
the practice of the Prophet and the consensus of the generations of those
whose goodness has been attested to.
Shāh Walī Allāh’s legacy in the Indian Subcontinent is so widespread
that various groups, all of them different in terms of ideology, claim him
as their forbearer. His descendants helped spread this legacy – particularly
his son, the hadith scholar Shāh Abd al-ʿAzīz, who authored the famous
Bustān al-muḥaddithīn (Garden of the Hadith Scholars), and grandson,
Shāh Ismāʿīl Shāhid. Walī Allāh’s voice, echoing almost three centuries
later, still reverberates today. Its message responds to a perennial quest
within humankind, calling it to the Divine, guided at all times by the
spirit of Unity.
Further Reading
Al-Ghazali, Muhammad. The Socio-Political Thought of Shah Wali Allah. Islamabad:
International Institute of Islamic Thought, 2001.
Jalbani, G. N. Life of Shah Waliyullah. New Delhi: Kitab Bhavan, 2006.
Shāh Walī Allāh. Shāh Walī Allāh's treatises on juristic disagreement and Taqlīd: Al-
inṣāf fī Bayān Sabab al-Ikhtilāf and ʿIqd al-Jīd fī Ahkām al-Ijtihād wa-l Taqlīd.
Translated by Marcia Hermansen. Louisville: Fons Vitae, 2010.
____________. The Conclusive Argument from God: Shāh Walī Allāh of Delhi's
Hujjat Allāh al-bāligha. Translated by Marcia Hermansen. Leiden: E.J. Brill,
1995.
31
Muhammad
. Amīn Ibn ʿĀbidīn
(1784-1836CE)
Mohammed Farid Ali
The eminent Damascene scholar, Muḥammad Amīn ibn ʿUmar ibn

ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz (1784-1836), better known in South Asian Ḥanafī circles
as Ibn ʿĀbidīn al-Shāmī, was an ʿAlid sayyid descended from Jaʿfar al-
Ṣādiq (d.ca.148AH/765CE). He stands at the juncture between the long
tradition of Islamic jurisprudence and modernity. Born in the Qunawāṭ
quarter of Damascus, he took his early education in the Shāfi‘ī legal
school, before later adopting Ḥanafī jurisprudence. Historically the most
widespread juridical school in Islam, the Ḥanafī School was established by
Abū Ḥanīfa in the second/eighth century, in Iraq. Later, it spread among
the populations of Central Asia, India, China and (finally) the Ottoman
Empire. Under leading Ḥanafī Shaykhs like Shākir al-ʿUqqād al-ʿUmarī
and Saʿīd al-Ḥalabī, Ibn ʿĀbidīn studied inheritance law, mathematics,
legal theory, hadith studies, Qur’anic exegesis, mysticism (tasawwuf),
.
and various rational disciplines (ʿulūm ʿaqliyya). He acquired a thorough
competence in the authoritative classics of Ḥanafī jurisprudence, including
the al-Durr al-Mukhtār of ʿAlā’ al-Dīn al-Haṣkafī (d.1088/1677). Ibn
ʿĀbidīn subsequently served as deputy mufti under Shaykh Ḥusayn al-
Murādī, the mufti of Ottoman Damascus. In this capacity, Ibn ʿĀbidīn
became a prominent authority in the resolution of conflicts in judicial
opinion, achieving fame in his own lifetime.
Eighteenth-Century Ottoman Damascus and the Role of the Muftis

Ibn ʿĀbidīn played an important role in the eighteenth-century
province of Damascus, then ruled by the Ottomans. The province’s size
and geographic location made it the most strategically and politically
MUḤAMMAD AMĪN IBN ʿĀBIDĪN 241
significant Syrian province. It occupied a central position in international

trade, linking lines of communication between East and West – Iraq, Iran
and the Mediterranean coast – and North and South – between Anatolia,
Northern Syria, Egypt and Arabia. The importance of long distance
commerce during this period may be appreciated when we remember that
Damascus was already drinking West Indian Coffee, rather than the Yemeni
variety.1 Damascus also had the permanent honour and responsibility of
administering and conducting the annual Syrian pilgrimage to Makkah.
Under the Ottoman sultans, eighteenth to nineteenth-century
Damascus was the seat of a wālī (also termed Pāsha or Wazīr), the only
administrator in the province appointed directly by the central government
in Istanbul. The wālī directed an administrative council (dīwān) and a
consultative assembly composed of leaders from the military corps, the
judiciary (including the Ḥanafī chief qāḍī – or judge – and the Ḥanafī
mufti), the head of the syndicate of the Prophet’s descendants (naqīb al-
ashrāf), leading religious scholars (ulama), and other notables (aʿyān). The
provincial judicial administration and courts, on the other hand, were
headed by the Ḥanafī qāḍī, who was also appointed by the Ottomans, and
usually the only non-Arab figure within the scholarly circles of Damascus.
Although the office of the mufti was under the authority of the Ottoman
judicial administration, the mufti played a significant role – perhaps more
significant than the qāḍī. Legal decisions taken by the qāḍī were often little
more than an authentication of the reasoned rulings supplied by the mufti.
The latter office was normally held by an outstanding member of the
local scholarly authorities. In the first half of the eighteenth century, the
prominent ʿImādī family had furnished a number of Damascus’ muftis; in
the second half, the office had been dominated by the al-Murādī family.
The candidate for mufti was selected by nomination from amongst the
ulama, his name later being submitted to the Shaykh al-Islām (the highest
religious authority in Istanbul) for approval and official appointment.
Unlike the qāḍī, the mufti could hold his position for life, unless removed
due to political or administrative reasons.
The function of the mufti was to render his considered legal opinion
(fatwa) on any legal issue presented to him by the qāḍī or any concerned
individual. Such a fatwa required the mufti to exercise his juridical expertise
in relation to the history and consensus of jurists over the centuries. The
qāḍī would then pronounce his decision in accordance with the opinion
of the mufti, since the mufti had the support of both the local ulama and
(more often than not) the general populace. Certainly, any failure to do so
might arouse the opposition of the populace and could result in the qadi’s
removal. The Ḥanafī mufti of Damascus had an assistant, referred to as

amīn al-fatāwā or amīn fatāwā Dimashq, who held the same qualifications
and training as the mufti himself. Besides assisting the mufti, this figure
would also act as his authorised representative. His considered responses to
legal questions carried just as much weight as those of the mufti.
Ibn ʿĀbidīn’s Work and Contribution

After the demise of the wālī Asʿad Pāshā al-ʿAẓm, who had governed
Damascus from 1743–1758, Syria experienced an era of unstable
governance; from 1784 to 1836, Ibn ʿĀbidīn experienced the rule of
twenty-seven successive Ottoman governors. These constant changes
impacted very negatively on everyday life – from the political to the
economic to the social. They resulted not just from the failings of the
Syrian provincial administration, but also from new pressures affecting the
central Istanbul government. During this period, the Venetians, Dutch,
Portuguese, French, and British were all granted concessions to conduct
trade and commerce in the Middle East. As they entered the region, they
introduced major innovations in business practices and lifestyle that the
authorities failed to regulate. This led to instability, while also entailing a
new set of legal questions for religious scholars to answer. The latter in turn
implied a need for innovation in religious thinking – a need which forms
the background to Ibn ʿĀbidīn’s work.
Under these dramatically changing circumstances, Ibn ʿĀbidīn
composed a series of important commentaries (hawāshī) . designed to
encourage ijtihād (independent legal reasoning). The most famous of these
was his Radd al-muhtār . ʿalā l-durr al-mukhtār – Sharh. tanwīr al-absār,
. also
known simply as H . āshiyya Ibn ʿĀbidīn. This, the largest and best known of
all his texts, is still considered a basic source-book for Ḥanafīs. Ibn ʿĀbidīn
died, however, before its completion. The final, sixth part was therefore
finished by his son, ʿAlā’ al-Dīn (d.1888), with an extension later being
added by ʿAbd al-Qādir al-Rāfiʿī (d.1894). Ibn ʿĀbidīn intended this work
to be a digested compendium of all earlier major compilations of Ḥanafī
law. It therefore stands alone as a comprehensive summary of his school’s
jurisprudential methods, opinions and rulings. In it, Ibn ʿĀbidīn compiled
the opinions of Ḥanafī legal scholars relevant to freshly occurring legal
issues and responded to legal queries posed to him. He traced the main
sources of previous juristic opinions, correcting mistakenly referenced
citations and verified the authenticity of earlier views. In particular, he
encouraged all Ḥanafī jurists to acquire rectified reasoning, instead of
simply studying fiqh without learning which opinions were preferred and
which were secondary or less than sound. This level of verification, Ibn
ʿĀbidīn believed, would save jurists from imitation and indiscriminate
following, opening up before them the path of ijtihād. In this book, Ibn
ʿĀbidīn also produced many important fatwas relating to contractual
transactions, a field of Sharia practice which now occupies a prominent
place in contemporary Islamic banking and finance.
With his creative approach, Ibn ʿĀbidīn challenged those amongst
his contemporaries who used the fame of an earlier scholar or text to
justify relying on them for legal judgments. His carefully crafted method
demonstrated that he was concerned about this attitude’s prevalence
amongst those legal scholars entrusted with the important task of effectively
serving fatwa-granting institutions. Ibn ʿĀbidīn saw novice jurists ignore
well-considered ijtihād and instead rely on a number of famous works
by earlier scholars to resolve freshly arising matters. Ibn ʿĀbidīn took
these ulama to task; he sought to initiate a discussion of the underlying
principles of deriving fatwas and the requisite tools needed to serve this
important Islamic institution.
This overriding concern led Ibn ʿĀbidīn to another genre of writing,
rasā’il. Roughly equivalent to contemporary academic research papers
and/or monographs, Ibn ʿĀbidīn produced thirty-one rasā’il texts on a
wide variety of topics and issues relevant to the principles of deriving
fatwas and other specific legal solutions. In particular, he undertook to
explain certain intricate issues (including those not explicated by scholars
before him) in expansive detail, in a way which could not be done in his
responses to specific legal questions. These treatises were first published in
Istanbul, beginning with his ʿUqūd al-la’ālī fī al-asānīd al-ʿawālī (1870).
All his treaties have since been compiled and published together as a single
volume, entitled Majmūʿat rasā’il Ibn ʿĀbidīn.
Of Ibn ʿĀbidīn’s monographs, two have proved particularly popular. The
first is his commentary (or Sharḥ) on his own work, ʿUqūd rasm al-muftī.
This text interweaves seventy poems relating to the principles of deriving
reasoned opinions (iftā’). Even now, studying this treatise is a pre-requisite
for any scholar working in a mufti’s office in the Indian subcontinent. His
second most popular treatise is Nashr al-ʿurf fī binā’ baʿḍ al-aḥkām ʿalā al-
ʿurf. Written on customary practice, it was a follow up to his discussion on
ʿurf in his ʿUqūd rasm al-muftī. For Ibn ʿĀbidīn, knowledge of customary
practice was necessary for any scholar who wished to know the public interest
and necessary requirements of the people. Contemporary authorities still
cite Ibn ʿĀbidīn as an authority on this subject.
Legacy
Ibn ʿĀbidīn passed away at aged fifty-four, on 21 Rabīʿ al-Thānī 1252/4
August 1836, and was buried in the al-Bāb al-Ṣaghīr graveyard, beside the
tomb of ʿAlā’ al-Dīn al-Ḥaskafī. (the author of al-Durr al-mukhtār, above).
Ibn ʿĀbidīn was described as a tall, light-skinned man who wore the attire
of the scholars of his time: the jubba and caftan, with a white turban coiled
around a red .tarbush. He was a devoted Sufi, a man of wide culture and
interests, and an eminent figure in society.
Surveying Ibn ʿĀbidīn’s large output of books and treatises, it is clear
that he wrote on a wide variety of subjects, including fiqh, usūl . al-fiqh,
fatwas, tasawwuf
. and poetry. But whatever the subject, he made sure to
treat any arising issues from a vantage point seeped in the contemporary
political, social, and economic realities of Damascus and the wider Middle
East. The topics of his monographs remind us that an effective and creative
response is necessary from men of religious learning if they are to earnestly
bring about the advancement of society and the well-being of humanity.
Reasoned and well-researched responses by the learned authorities are the
blueprint for the architecture of civilisation. Although most of his writings
are commentaries on classical fatwa collections and juridical works, Ibn
ʿĀbidīn did not lose sight of the need to re-interpret those classical works
in the light of evolving societal needs. Legal issues based on custom,
socioeconomic realities, and public well-being demand adequate and
effective application in harmony with present conditions.
This deliberate, reasoned approach demonstrates the universality and
moderation of Islam, as well as its ability to accommodate modernity.
Ibn ʿĀbidīn also demonstrates, however, that civilisational renewal is not
feasible if society’s intellectual leaders – as children of their time (ibn al-
zamān) – do not remain creative and adaptable to shifting circumstances.
Ibn ʿĀbidīn perceived that many of the ulama of his time were intellectually
constrained by both a misunderstood conception of taqlīd and a failure to
search for fresh legal solutions when new problems arose. To curb this, he
refreshed the long-forgotten style of writing fiqh and fatwa with rectification
and careful deliberation, by measuring the cogency of arguments – a style
which may be traced back to the origin of Islamic legal rulings. In short, he
appealed to ijtihād as the crucial element behind maintaining the Sharia’s
flexibility and compliancy with contemporary issues and conditions.
Notes
1. George Koury, The Province of Damascus 1783-1832 (Michigan: University
Microfilms International, Dissertation Information Service, 1970), 142;
Albert Hourani, The Fertile Crescent in the eighteenth century. A vision of
History: Near Eastern and other essays (Beirut: Khayats, 1961), 65. Many
details provided here are drawn from these two works, as well as the study by
Michael Chamberlain, Knowledge and Social Practice in Medieval Damascus
1190-1350, Cambridge Studies in Islamic Civilization (Cambridge
University Press, 1994).
Further Reading
Ali, Mohammed Farid. ‘Principles of Giving Fatwa (Uṣūl al-Iftā’) in the Ḥanafī
Legal School, with an Annotated Translation, Analysis and Edition of Sharḥ
ʿUqūd Rasm al-Muftī of Ibn ʿAbidīn al-Shamī.’ Unpublished PhD thesis,
International Islamic University Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur, 2012.
_________________. ‘Custom (ʿUrf ) as a Source of Islamic Jurisprudence in

the Works of Ibn Abidin al-Shami (d. 1252/1836).’ Unpublished MA thesis,
International Islamic University Malaysia, 2006.
Calder, Norman. ‘The ʿUqūd Rasm al-Muftī of Ibn ʿAbidin.’ Bulletin of the School
of Oriental and African Studies 63, no. 2 (2000): 215–288.
Ibn ʿĀbidīn. Radd al-Muḥtār ʿalā l-Durr al-Mukhtār – Sharh. Tanwīr al-Absār.
.
Damascus: Dār al-Thaqāfah wa al-Turāth, 2000. Recently, a section of Radd
al-Muḥtār was translated into English by Anas al-Muhsin and Amer Bashir,
The Book of Sales (Kitāb al-Buyūʿ), IBFIM.
________. Majmūʿat Rasā’il Ibn ʿĀbidīn. Beirut: Dār IÍyā’ al-Turāth al-ʿArabī,
n.d.
32
Muḥammad b. ‘Alī al-Shawkānī
(1759-1839CE)
Muhammad Farid ‘Ali
Imam al-Shawkānī’s full name was Muḥammad b. ‘Alī b. Muḥammad

b. ‘Abd Allāh al-Shawkānī al-Ṣan‘ānī (1759-1839). Of his two nisba, ‘al-
Shawkānī’ derives from his birth place, Hijra Shawkan, a small town a
day’s journey from Sana‘a, Yemen. ‘Al-San‘ānī’, on the other hand, refers to
Sana’a itself and reflects where he grew up, studied and held the position of
qādī
. al-qudāt (head judge) under the city’s Qāsimī Imāmī rulers.
In his early years, al-Shawkānī studied under his father, ‘Alī b.
Muḥammad al-Shawkānī (d.1797), who was a judge at Sana‘a. During this
period, al-Shawkānī’s milieu was decidedly Zaydī (a branch of Shi‘a Islam).
It is difficult to say, however, whether al-Shawkānī himself was Zaydī or
Sunni. Certainly, he was well-read in both traditions, as substantiated by
the list of works and teachers he is known to have encountered: besides
Zaydī works like Sharḥ al-Azhār and Sharḥ al-Nāẓirī, al-Shawkānī also
studied Sunni classics like Saḥīḥ Bukhārī, Saḥīḥ Muslim, Sunan al-
Tirmidhi, Muwaṭṭa Mālik, the Shifā of al-Qāḍī ‘Iyāḍ, al-Muntaqā and so
on.1
With his mastering of numerous sciences, al-Shawkānī claimed that, by
the age of thirty, he had “dispensed with taqlīd [imitation] and became a
mujtahid mutlaq,” or someone able to excise independent legal judgement.
He subsequently dedicated the rest of his life to issuing fatwas (an activity
he started at the age of twenty), teaching his students and writing. Indeed,
he wrote prodigiously on various sciences and issues. Some of his more
famous works include:
1. Nayl al-awṭār min aḥādīth Sayyid al-Akhyār (Attainment of the

Objectives from the Hadiths of the Chief of the Righteous).
MUḤAMMAD B. ‘ALĪ AL-SHAWKĀNĪ 247
A commentary on the Muntaqa al-akhbār of Ibn Taymiyyah

(d.728AH/1328CE), a hadith-based fiqh manual.
2. Fath. al-qadīr: Jāmi‘ bayna fannay al-riwāya wa al-dirāya min ‘ilm al-
tafsīr (The Aid of the All-Powerful in considering both Narrations
and Analysis in the Science of Tafsīr). A Qur’anic exegesis.
3. Irshād al-fuḥūl ilā taḥqīq al-ḥaqq min ‘ilm al-uṣūl (Guiding the
Eminent to the Verification of the Truth in the Science of Uṣūl). A
work on uṣūl al-fiqh (the principles of jurisprudence).2
One could say that Imam al-Shawkānī was fortunate in that he

encountered both rigid Zaydīs who adhered closely to the traditional
anti-Sunna Hādawī school of Zaydī thought, and more open-minded
Sunna-oriented Zaydīs. Although the early Qāsimī Imāms of the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries had remained staunch followers of Hādawī
thought, maintaining an active hostility to Sunnism, their eighteenth-
century successors developed an openness to Sunni teachings and source-
texts. This change occurred as early as the Qāsimī Imam, al-Mutawakkil
Aḥmad b. Sulayman (r.1724-1756), who utilised canonical Sunni hadith
collections in his Uṣūl al-aḥkām fi al-ḥalāl wa al-ḥarām. From then on,
an openness to Sunni scholarship became a trend amongst Zaydī scholars;
from initially just citing Sunni hadith to bolster Zaydī-Hādawī views, they
moved to a more pure Sunni traditionalist position. The first such scholar
do to so was Muḥammad b. Ibrāhīm al-Wazīr (commonly known as Ibn al-
Wazīr, d.839/1436). Under the influence of the Sunni hadith sciences, Ibn
al-Wazīr abandoned the Zaydī-Hādawī school altogether, declaring the
Sunni canonical collections as “unconditionally authoritative in religion.”3
He was then followed by al-Ḥasan b. Aḥmad b. al-Jalāl (d.1673), Ṣāliḥ b.
Mahdī al-Maqbālī (d.1696), Muḥammad b. Ismā‘īl al-Amīr (commonly
known as just Ibn al-Amīr, d.1769), and Ibn Amīr’s student, ‘Abd al-Qādir
b. Aḥmad al-Kawkabānī (d.1792). This last figure became the principle
teacher of al-Shawkānī, with whom the Sunni traditionalist path reached
its peak amongst Zaydīs, dominating the “circles of power and learning”
in Sana‘a.4
The rise of both Sunna-oriented Zaydī scholars and the Imams who
patronised them was due to both internal and external factors, notably
the Qāsimī Imams’ needed to accommodate the sentiments of their Shāfi‘ī
subjects. During this period, a large proportion of the population of lower
Yemen were Shāfi‘ī, thereby making it necessary for the Qāsimī Imams
to placate them; lower Yemen generated considerable tax revenues and
produced large amounts of the Imamate’s cash-crop, coffee, which was in

big demand on the international market. A merchant of the time described
the commerce of that period thus: “The riches of Yemen may be considered
as solely owing to its coffee, for it is from the sale of that commodity, that
its merchants receive [Spanish] dollars in Egypt, with which they purchase
the manufactures and spices of India.” Some modern writers even name
the Qāsimī state ‘The Coffee Imamate’. Additionally, there was also a need
to legitimise the dynastic ambitions of the eighteenth-century Qāsimī
Imāms. As such, the Qāsimī Imams did not live up to the ideals of Zaydī
political doctrine, behaving more like kings than Imams. Strictly following
Zaydī political doctrine would not give them this freedom, so they chose
to delegitimise Zaydī political doctrine by utilising the Sunni conception
of the Imam, which more readily served their ambitions.5
But regardless of the reasons behind it, al-Shawkānī and his teachers
chose to focus their scholarly attention on the canonical Sunni hadith
collections, considering them to be the most authoritative sources in
religion after the Qur’an. In this sense, it would be accurate to categorise
them as Sunni traditionalists. Certainly, they used Sunni hadith to reject
the Zaydī-Hādawī doctrines of Imamate, specifically the conditions that
the Imam be a mujtahid, of ‘Alawī-Fātimī . decent and that his appointment
to the Imamate be in response to a call (da‘wa) and on condition of his
willingness to rise against illegitimate rulers (khurūj). For al-Shawkānī, the
first two of these requirements were unnecessary and the Imamate could
only be attained via the allegiance (bay‘a) of people of note (ahl al-ḥall wa
al-‘aqd), not da‘wa. Al-Shawkānī also forbade Muslims from rising against
an unjust Imam as long as he fulfilled the basic tenants of Islam and did
not publically perform acts of disbelief.6
In his treatise, al-Qawl al-mufīd fī adillat al-ijtihād wa al-taqlīd, al-
Shawkānī deemed taqlīd a reprehensible innovation developed by the
followers of various schools of law. He argued that taqlīd had led to
factionalism (madhabiyya), while the application of ijtihād would be a
means to combat sectarian and antagonistic tendencies between different
schools of law.7 He urged a return to the principle sources of the Qur’an
and Sunna when determining legal rulings. In the context of usūl . al-
fiqh, one could argue that this almost exclusive dependence on Qur’an
and Sunna added greater certainty to al-Shawkānī’s model; through it, he
aimed to free usūl
. from principles that were either presumptive (zannī).
or textually baseless. He did not, for example, consider ijmā‘ (consensus)
to be a valid source of law. This was because, firstly, there was no textual
proof for it while, secondly, and as elaborated in his Wabl al-ghamām ‘alā
shifā’ al-uwām, it is impossible to ascertain the consensus of all scholars

of all regions on an issue because of the existence of “different schools,
temperaments, differences in understanding, contradictory dispositions,
and the love of contradiction.” By rejecting ijmā‘, al-Shawkānī was able
to refute many of the distinctive and identifying legal teachings of the
Hādawīs. For instance, Hādawīs based their two-fold form of the call to
prayer (known as al-adhān al-muthanna) and the inclusion of the saying
Ḥayya ‘ala khayr al-‘amal (Come to the best of deeds) on the ijmā‘ of the
ahl al-bayt (the ijmā‘ al-‘itrah
. argument). Al-Shawkānī, however, said that
such ijmā‘ was not valid because these practices were not traceable to the
Sunna.8
Similarly, al-Shawkānī did not accept all forms of qiyās (analogical
reasoning). He argued that most qiyās types were based on ra’y (personal
opinion), while he only accepted qiyās if the cause (‘illah) was established
by the text (either the Qur’an or Sunna). In this regard he said: “we are
not among those who deny qiyās, but we forbid establishing rules by it,
except when the text comes with its cause [al-‘illah al-manṣūṣah].”9 Based
on this methodology, al-Shawkānī sought to reform the legal decisions of
the Zaydī-Hādawīs and other legal schools.
Al-Shawkānī’s epistemology and legal methodology can further be
understood by considering his Irshād al-fuḥūl ‘ilā taḥqīq al-ḥaqq min ‘ilm
al-usūl,
. especially when we look at his discussion on ijtihād. Al-Shawkānī’s
epistemological approach saw authoritative knowledge as textually derived.
Since generations of scholars, from the time of Prophet down to his own,
had collected, classified and codified Islam’s textual legacy, the possibility of
arriving at authoritative legal decisions had increased over time. He argued
that Muslims could access the fruits of this process only through ijtihād –
or, at the very least, through consulting a mujtahid. He strongly believed
in the training of mujtahids, writing a pedagogical work on the subject,
entitled Adab al-ṭalab wa muntaha al-arab. In this work, he outlined a
curriculum which could prepare scholars capable of ijtihād.10 He argued
that ijtihād was a continuous and necessary process, and not something
bound to any time or place. Basing himself on a Prophetic saying “until
the day of reckoning a group in my nation will remain manifesting truth,”
he argued that for every time period there will be a mujtahid.
Al-Shawkānī’s advocacy of ijtihād and resistance to taqlīd not only
made an impact on socio-legal matters, but also on the political system. In
1795, he was appointed qādī . al-qudāt
. of the Qāsimī Imamate. He would
hold this position for almost forty years, under the reigns of three different
Imams, namely al-Mansūr . ‘Alī b. ‘Abbās (r.1775-1809), al-Mutawakkil
Aḥmad b. ‘Alī (r.1809-1816) and Mahdī ‘Abd Allāh b. Aḥmad (r.1816-

1835). These three Imams, however, were not mujtahids; al-Shawkānī used
his position to stipulate that all three elect mujtahids and accomplished
jurists (ulama) for consultation. Non-mujtahid Imams, he stipulated,
“must render all disputes to the ‘ulamā’ and whatever they judge he must
execute and whatever they order he must do.”11
Al-Shawkānī issued his legal judgments in the form of short and long
fatwas or binding letters to judges under his supervision. Since his fatwas
and legal judgments superseded all others, he became the ultimate legal
reference in the region. He also gained many Shāfi‘ī admirers, many of
whom came to study with him. Indeed, he had students from as far away
as India.
Al-Shawkānī died in Jumādā al-Thānī 1250/October 1834. His
jurisprudential opinions and methodology not only influenced his own
contemporary society, but also, through the disseminating efforts of his
students, later and more widespread societies. He is considered the last
great figure amongst traditionalist scholars. His arguments concerning
how to reform Islamic society have “resonated with the concerns of many
modern Sunnī reformers,” both in Arab and non-Arab countries.12
Notes
1. Salahuddin Ali Abdul-Mawjood, The Biography of Imam al-Shawkānī, trans.
Abu Bakr ibn Nasir (Riyadh: Darussalam, 2006), 59.
2. Abdul-Mawjood, The Biography of Imam al-Shawkānī, 93; Bernard Haykel,
Reforming Islam by Dissolving the Madhāhib: Shawkānī and His Zaydī
Detractors in Yemen (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 19.
3. Ibid, 338.
4. Ibid, 9.
5. Ibid, 15.
6. Ibid, 84
7. Muhammad
. al-Shawkānī, ‘al-Qawl al-mufīd fī adillat al-ijtihād wa al-taqlīd,’
in al-Rasā’il al-Ṣalafiyyah fī iḥyā’ sunnat khayr al-barīyah (Beirut: Dār al-Kitāb
al-Arabī, 1991), 191. This is as cited in Reforming Islam.
8. Haykel, Reforming Islam, 90.
9. Muhammad
. al-Shawkānī, Wabl al-ghamām ‘alā shifā’ al-uwām, vol. 1 (Cairo:
Maktabah Ibn Taymiyyah, 1416AH), 132-3.
10. Muhammad
. al-Shawkānī, Adab al-ṭalab wa muntaha al-arab (Beirut: Dār
Ibn al-Ḥazm, 1998); Haykel, Reforming Islam, 102-8.
11. Bernard Haykel, ‘Al-Shawkānī and the Jurisprudential Unity of Yemen,’
Revue du monde musulman et de la Mediterranee, no. 67 (1993): 57.
12. Haykel, Reforming Islam, 243.
Further Reading
Abdul-Mawjood, Salahuddin Ali. The Biography of Imam al-Shawkānī. Translated

by Abu Bakr ibn Nasir. Riyadh: Darussalam, 2006.
Al-Shawkānī, Muhammad.
. Adab al-ṭalab wa muntaha al-arab. Beirut: Dār Ibn
al-Ḥazm, 1998.
_____________________. ‘al-Qawl al-mufīd fī adillat al-ijtihād wa al-taqlīd,’

in al-Rasā’il al-Ṣalafiyyah fī iḥyā’ sunnat khayr al-barīyah. Beirut: Dār al-Kitāb
al-Arabī, 1991.
_____________________. Wabl al-ghamām ‘alā shifā’ al-uwām, vol. 1. Cairo:

Maktabah Ibn Taymiyyah, 1416AH.
Haykel, Bernard. ‘Al-Shawkānī and the Jurisprudential Unity of Yemen.’ Revue du

monde musulman et de la Mediterranee, no. 67 (1993): 53-65.
____________________. Reforming Islam by Dissolving the Madhāhib: Shawkānī

and His Zaydī Detractors in Yemen. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2003.
33
Muḥammad ‘Abduh
(ca.1849-1905CE)
Alexander Wain
He was a man of daring disposition and free spirit, openly expressing

his opinion and adhering to it, without fear of the might of any one
in authority or the power of any of the great.1
(from the Arabic newspaper, al-Muqaṭṭam)
Early Years
Muḥammad ‘Abduh’s birth has been variously dated; while most sources
place it in 1849 (or 1266AH), others have suggested anywhere between
1842 and 1848.2 What is certain, however, is that his father was an Egyptian
named ‘Abduh ibn Ḥasan Khair Allāh, from the village of Mahallat Nasr,
in the Nile Delta. Hailing from one of Egypt’s longstanding (and heavily
Arabised) Turkish families, ‘Abduh ibn Ḥasan was forced to flee Mahallat
Nasr shortly before ‘Abduh’s birth in order to escape the oppression being
metered out by the province’s local officials. Leaving his wife and children
behind, ‘Abduh ibn Ḥasan travelled to Gharbiyya Province, in the Central
Delta region. There, and after a period spent moving from village to
village, he met ‘Abduh’s mother, taking her as his second wife. Originally
from the city of Tanta, she claimed descent from Islam’s second caliph,
‘Umar al-Khaṭṭāb. Although ‘Abduh would later claim that neither of his
parents were wealthy, soon after his birth his father acquired some land
in Mahallat Nasr, enabling him to return to his ancestral home. There he
subsequently became a well-respected member of the local community.3
It was in Mahallat Nasr that ‘Abduh spent his formative years. Like
all small children growing up in mid-nineteenth-century rural Egypt, he
spent much of his time outdoors, gaining proficiency in swimming, horse-
riding and the use of firearms. His father, however, desired more for his
MUḤAMMAD ‘ABDUH 253
youngest son; finding himself with the necessary funds, he hired a teacher
who, coming to the house regularly, taught young ‘Abduh to read and
write.4 Later, from the age of ten (i.e. from ca.1859), ‘Abduh also began
attending the classes of a local ḥāfiz. Under the latter’s guidance, ‘Abduh
demonstrated his talent as a student by memorising the entire Qur’an in
just two years.5
Encouraged by his son’s achievements, in ca.1862 ‘Abduh ibn Ḥasan
sent ‘Abduh to study at the Aḥmadī mosque, Tanta, then a prestigious
religious college considered second only to the famous al-Azhar.6 Once
there, ‘Abduh began studying Arabic grammar. This first foray into more
advanced Islamic learning, however, proved unsuccessful: ‘Abduh quickly
became infuriated by his teachers who, in a manner common at the time,
would frequently discuss a subject using an array of technical terms, none
of which were explained beforehand. ‘Abduh complained that this made it
almost impossible to understand them; in frustration, he ran away, taking
refuge in the nearby home of his (maternal) uncles. His stepbrother,
however, who was also one of his teachers, tracked him down and returned
him to the mosque. Nevertheless, ‘Abduh fled again, this time returning to
Mahallat Nasr. There he announced his determination to give up learning
altogether and become a farmer, just like his other relatives. To this end,
and at the age of sixteen (i.e. in ca.1865), ‘Abduh married and attempted
to settle down.7
After just forty days of married life, however, Abduh’s father compelled
him to return to the Aḥmadī mosque. Once again, ‘Abduh was unwilling:
while still en route to Tanta, he took flight for a third time, making for
relatives in the village of Kanayyisat Adrin. It was there that he encountered
his father’s uncle, Shaykh Darwīsh Khādir, a Sufi of .the Shādhiliyya
ṭarīqa who had studied under the famous Libyan scholar, Muḥammad al-
Madanī. Upon seeing his great-nephew, Shaykh Darwīsh became deeply
concerned about his extreme aversion to learning. Before he went to visit
‘Abduh, he therefore decided to take along a book summarising Shādhalī
teachings. He asked ‘Abduh to read this aloud. ‘Abduh’s rebelliousness,
however, immediately came to the fore and, in a fit of temper, he hurled
the book across the room. But Shaykh Darwīsh was not to be put off so
easily; he persisted with his request until ‘Abduh became so embarrassed
he finally began to read. As he did so, Shaykh Darwīsh explained each
passage aloud and, thereby, gradually engaged ‘Abduh’s interest. After
three successive afternoons spent in this pursuit, ‘Abduh began reading
the book of his own volition, even making notes on specific passages so
that he could ask questions later.8
After just fifteen days spent studying with Shaykh Darwīsh, ‘Abduh
decided to return to Tanta. Once back at the Aḥmadī mosque, he
immediately became a far more diligent pupil, his religious outlook
decidedly tinged with Shādhalī teachings. His fellow students, quickly
noticing his new-found dedication, promptly flocked to ‘Abduh, asking
for help in their studies. But despite this attention, ‘Abduh decided not to
stay in Tanta. Instead, he found himself attracted to Cairo’s great centre of
Islamic learning, al-Azhar. In February 1866, therefore, he left Tanta for
Egypt’s capital. Just one month later, he enrolled as a student at al-Azhar.9
As a Student at al-Azhar and meeting Jamāl al-Dīn al-Afghānī
For the next four years, ‘Abduh studied at al-Azhar, attending lectures and
reading set texts. As at the Aḥmadī mosque, however, he felt unsatisfied; not
only were his new teachers also using technical terms without explaining
them, but ‘Abduh found their choice of subjects restrictive. Throughout
these four years, therefore, ‘Abduh continued to visit his great-uncle,
Shaykh Darwīsh. The latter encouraged ‘Abduh to look beyond al-Azhar’s
narrow curriculum, to subjects like logic, mathematics and geometry.
Taking this advice, ‘Abduh began searching for teachers outside al-Azhar,
ones capable of instructing him in these additional topics. After scouring
the length and breadth of Cairo, he became the student of such notable
philosophers and mathematicians as Shaykh Muḥammad al-Basyūnī and
Shaykh Ḥasan al-Ṭawīl. In addition, ‘Abduh also spent many long hours
searching al-Azhar’s library for religious (especially Sufi) texts not included
in al-Azhar’s official curriculum.10
Indeed, throughout this period ‘Abduh maintained a strong connection
to Sufism. Fasting throughout the day, he would spend his nights in prayer,
all the time wearing the rough garments characteristic of the ascetic. Indeed,
so austere did his lifestyle become – including long periods of self-imposed
isolation – that even Shaykh Darwīsh became concerned; during a visit
‘Abduh paid him in 1871, Shaykh Darwīsh pointed out that any knowledge
‘Abduh gained during his studies would be useless unless implemented for
the benefit of others. To this end, Shaykh Darwīsh persuaded ‘Abduh to
attend local religious meetings in and around Kanayyisat Adrīn, where he
could discuss his ideas with others. Thereby, Shaykh Darwīsh gradually
reintroduced ‘Abduh to the world.11
In 1871, ‘Abduh also began attending another, this time Cairo-based, set
of meetings hosted by the charismatic Sufi shaykh, Jamāl al-Dīn al-Afghānī
(d.1897). ‘Abduh first met al-Afghānī in 1869, when his philosophy and
logic teacher, the aforementioned Muḥammad al-Ṭawīl, took him to an

evening meeting at al-Afghānī’s house. A passionate advocate of renewal
and reform in the Islamic world, over dinner al-Afghānī presented ‘Abduh
with a Sufi-orientated vision of Islam dedicated to revival, resisting
European infiltration and promoting a unified Muslim community. More
importantly, ‘Abduh found in al-Afghānī a brilliant teacher capable of
penetrating Islam’s inner depths – something his teachers at al-Azhar and
(to a lesser extent) Shaykh Darwīsh were unable to do.12
In 1869, however, al-Afghānī was only visiting Egypt briefly, before
going on to Istanbul. Nevertheless, when he returned in 1871, ‘Abduh
immediately joined the dedicated circle of students gathered at his feet.13
Together with al-Afghānī, this circle studied classical Arabic religious texts,
probing their meaning and (most importantly) assessing their relevance
for the present. Bit by bit, al-Afghānī explained the teachings contained
in each text and sought to apply them to the modern world; when this
could not be done, al-Afghānī developed new teachings. Unlike ‘Abduh’s
teachers at al-Azhar, therefore, al-Afghānī was not prepared to merely
accept a point without first examining it, testing it and (if necessary)
replacing it. For al-Afghānī, blind following of tradition (taqlīd) was to be
rejected in favour of reviving independent reason (ijtihād).14 Ultimately,
this perspective would come to define ‘Abduh’s career.
It was while studying with al-Afghānī that ‘Abduh wrote his first book,
entitled Risālat al-Wāridāt (A Treatise Consisting of Mystical Inspirations,
1874).15 Although not published until after his death, 16 it placed at centre-
stage ‘Abduh’s desire to be free of the shackles of tradition:
[I am] one who has turned away from such subjects as dogmatics
and dialectic and has freed himself from the chains of adherence to
sects, to be at liberty to pursue the chase of knowledge.17
Based on this call to independent thought, ‘Abduh used the rest of
his text to develop a Wujūdiyya-influenced brand of Sufism. Heavily
pantheistic in tone, ‘Abduh controversially argued that there was no true
existence apart from God; contrary to the teachings of al-Azhar, ‘Abduh
argued that God was synonymous with His creation (i.e. not purely
transcendent).18
In 1876, ‘Abduh produced a second text, entitled Ḥāshiyya ‘alā sharḥ
al-Dawwānī li al-‘aqā’id al-‘Aḍudiyya (A Gloss on Dawwānī’s Commentary
on the Sentences of Adud . al-Dīn al-Ījī). Not published until the year
of his death, this text constituted
. a collection of annotations on al-Jalāl
al-Dawwānī’s commentary on al-‘Akā’ id al-Aḍudiyya, a brief theological
treatise by ‘Adud
. al-Dīn al-Ījī (d.1355). Although lacking the mystical
referents of ‘Abduh’s
. first text, this second one argued that human reason
is the only true guide to faith.19 Therefore, and unlike the Ash’arite
position taken at al-Azhar, ‘Abduh maintained that human reason was
capable of choosing right from wrong. Moreover, he also stated that the
Qur’an must conform to human reason – if a current interpretation of
the Qur’an appeared to be irrational, a new one must be found. This
stance immediately opened ‘Abduh up to charges of reviving Mu’tazilite
thought, the extinct branch of Islamic theology which privileged human
reason over faith to argue that the Qur’an was created and not eternal
(and therefore subject to human reason).20 ‘Abduh would be pursued by
this accusation throughout his career.
As a result of both his ideas and his association with al-Afghānī, ‘Abduh’s
final years at al-Azhar were dogged with controversy. His modernising
attitude, centred on independent thought and (when appropriate)
revisionism, was viewed with deep suspicion. Finally, the leader of al-
Azhar’s conservative circle, Shaykh ‘Ulaish, openly accused ‘Abduh of
being a Mu’tazilite (akin to an accusation of heresy).21 To this, ‘Abduh
responded:
If I give up blind acceptance of Ash’arite doctrine, why should I
take up blind acceptance of the Mu’tazilite? Therefore I am giving
up blind acceptance of both, and judge according to the proof
presented.22
This statement, however, did little to alleviate the controversies
surrounding him; when ‘Abduh presented himself for examination in May
1877, he found many of his examiners already set against him. Indeed, it
is unlikely ‘Abduh would have been allowed to graduate had it not been
for the intersession of the university’s liberal rector, Muḥammad al-‘Abbāsī
(in office from 1870-1882).23 The latter was so impressed with ‘Abduh’s
work that he insisted the examiners pass him. But, rather than the special
class above first class that the rector felt ‘Abduh deserved, the examiners
granted him only the second class. Nevertheless, with this ‘Abduh became
a fully-fledged ‘ālim (scholar).24
His Early Career: Teacher, Newspaper Editor, Revolutionary

After his graduation, ‘Abduh immediately returned to al-Azhar as a teacher.
Lecturing on a wide variety of theological topics, he made a concerted
effort to utilise al-Afghānī’s teaching techniques; acutely aware of his own
negative experiences as a student, ‘Abduh sought to introduce an ijtihād-

centred approach to al-Azhar’s education system, one that would encourage
independent thought.25
Perhaps because of this reforming agenda, in 1878 ‘Abduh was
appointed (seemingly at the direction of Egypt’s liberal Prime Minister, Riād.
Pāshā, d.1911) to teach history at the newly-founded Dār al-‘Ulūm. This
institution, established in 1873 by ‘Alī Pāshā Mubārak, the then Minister
of Education, aimed to rival al-Azhar as a centre of religious education. It
differed from its competitor, however, by emphasising modern teaching
methods – thereby coalescing with ‘Abduh’s reform agenda and no doubt
explaining his appointment.26 Simultaneous to obtaining this position,
‘Abduh also received an offer to teach Arabic language and literature at the
government-run Khedivial School of Languages, another reform-minded
institution.27 While working at both locations, ‘Abduh maintained his
position at al-Azhar.
‘Abduh’s first venture into education, however, proved short-lived. In
1879, the ineffective Khedive of Egypt, Ismā’īl Pāshā (r.1864-1879), was
replaced by his son, Tawfīq Pāshā (r.1879-1892). Despite early indications
to the contrary, Tawfīq Pāshā proved hostile to reform; in an attempt to
maintain the conservative status quo, he expelled al-Afghānī from Egypt
and forced ‘Abduh into retirement at Mahallat Nasr.28 Nevertheless,
early the following year, Riād. Pāshā, who had been absent when Tawfīq
Pāshā took the throne, returned to Egypt. Eager to maintain a reform-
minded presence in the public arena, he appointed ‘Abduh to one of three
editorial positions at the official government organ, al-Waqā’i‘ al-Miṣriyya
(Egyptian Events). From 1880 onwards, therefore, ‘Abduh found himself
able to freely voice his reformist opinions via a government mouthpiece.29
Also during the early 1880s, ‘Abduh became involved in a short-lived
revolutionary movement aimed at freeing Egypt from foreign interference.
Led by the then Minister of War, Aḥmad ‘Urābī Pāshā (d.1911), the
movement’s agitation for Muslim independence linked with the themes
‘Abduh had assimilated under al-Afghānī. He therefore readily offered
his assistance, becoming a key advisor to many of the movement’s top
figures. In June 1882, however, the revolution met a disastrous end: after
unsuccessfully attempting to expel the British from Alexandria, ‘Urābī
Pāshā was defeated and everyone judged to have been complicit in his revolt
arrested and put on trial.30 Although ‘Abduh had opposed any violence, he
was found guilty of administering unlawful oaths to the principal ministers
and officers of the rebellion and was exiled from Egypt.31
His Later Career: In Exile, Egypt’s Mufti, Islamic Reformer

After leaving Egypt, ‘Abduh travelled to Beirut, then part of Ottoman
Syria. Remaining there for a year, in late 1883 he received a letter from
al-Afghānī. Writing from Paris, al-Afghānī invited ‘Abduh to join him in
Europe. As a result, in early 1884 ‘Abduh set sail, arriving in Paris later the
same year.32
Although ‘Abduh’s time in Paris was brief (ten months in total), it proved
highly productive. Working closely with al-Afghānī, ‘Abduh founded an
organisation called al-‘Urwa al-wuthqa (The Strongest Link).33 Dedicated
to bringing about a reunification of the Muslim Ummah, al-‘Urwa al-
wuthqa’s accompanying publication (bearing the same name) attempted to
identify a series of practical solutions to the problems currently besetting
the Muslim world. At its heart lay a conviction that the Ummah could only
be successfully revived if Muslims remained steadfast to Islam’s core values,
as enshrined in the lives of its founders (the salaf). Al-‘Urwa al-wuthqa
therefore sought to refute accusations, common amongst Europeans and
European-educated Muslims, that Islam could not hope to progress if it
remained loyal to its fundamental principles.34
Overall, al-‘Urwa al-wuthqa struck a more radical tone than ‘Abduh
was used to, perhaps reflecting his recent experiences in Egypt – although
al-Afghānī always tended towards the radical, too.35 Although an
influential organisation, al-‘Urwa al-wuthqa proved short-lived; by the
end of 1884, after publishing just eighteen issues of its newsletter, it was
supressed by colonial and Ottoman authorities, both of whom considered
it subversive.36 Soon after, al-Afghānī and ‘Abduh left Paris, al-Afghānī for
Russia and ‘Abduh for Tunis. ‘Abduh, however, only stayed in North Africa
briefly, before moving (usually incognito) across the Middle East, trying to
raise support for the al-‘Urwa al-wuthqa’s ideas. By 1885, he was back in
Beirut, teaching. Drawing in students from all faiths, his lectures (held at
home) centred on theology and, in particular, the commonalities between
all three Abrahamic religions. Ultimately, ‘Abduh hoped to present these
commonalities as a basis for some form of future union.37
‘Abduh’s Beirut lectures were subsequently collated into a text called
Risālat al-tawḥīd (The Theology of Divine Unity, published in 1897).38 This
elucidated Islamic doctrine, the nature of revelation and the role of reason
in human affairs, while also presenting Islam as the pinnacle of human
achievement. Indeed, ‘Abduh argued that Europe’s current strength rested
on ideas it had borrowed from Islam during the Renaissance. Consequently,
if Muslims wished to attain the same cultural heights as Europe, all they
needed to do was re-appropriate the Islamic values Europe had taken for
itself – values ‘Abduh ultimately associated with the salaf.39 Rather than
needing to imitate Europe, therefore, Islam had the capacity to reform
itself from within, without the need for European accretions. All Muslims
had to do was learn how to reclaim the dynamic forces inherent to Islam
itself. Central to this process would be the return to ijtihād advocated by
al-Afghānī; Islam’s recent decline necessitated the religion’s restatement in
a manner conducive to the modern world, a feat which could only be
accomplished by a return to ijtihād and rejection of taqlīd.40
After developing these key arguments, in 1888 ‘Abduh was allowed to
return to Egypt. Various influential people, including the British Consul-
General of Egypt, Lord Cromer (or Evelyn Baring, d.1917), impressed by
‘Abduh’s liberal reputation and earlier efforts at reform, interceded on his
behalf to obtain a pardon.41 Once back in his native land, ‘Abduh (and
again at Cromer’s instigation)42 became a judge (qāḍī) at al-Maḥākim al-
ahliyya al-ibtidā’iyya (The Court of First Instance of the Native Tribunals).
In this capacity, ‘Abduh served first at Benha, and then at Zagazig and
Cairo. Later, he was also made a Consultative Member of the Maḥkamat
al-isti’nāf (Court of Appeal).43 Throughout this period, ‘Abduh remained
unable to engage in any official teaching activity; although many favoured
his involvement in this area, Tawfīq Pāshā still feared his reforming
influence over the young.44
In 1892, however, Tawfīq Pāshā died and was succeeded by his
more reform-minded son, Abbās II (r.1892-1914). With this change of
leadership, ‘Abduh saw an opportunity to push the educational reforms
he had been advocating for over a decade. Increasingly, ‘Abduh saw these
reforms as the key to reinitiating ijtihād and, thereby, bringing about the
rejuvenation of Islamic society. Promptly seeking an audience with the new
Khedive, ‘Abduh laid before him a series of plans for reforming al-Azhar.
Impressed, Abbās II ordered the formation of an Administrative Committee
tasked with enacting the reforms. Coming into operation in 1895, this
Committee included ‘Abduh as a government representative. Through its
activities, ‘Abduh was able to institute wide-ranging reforms, including the
addition of subjects like arithmetic, algebra, Islamic history, composition,
geometry and geography to al-Azhar’s curriculum. Students now had to
pass a selection of these new subjects, in addition to the more traditional
ones, in order to graduate. ‘Abduh even weighted the examinations so that
those who took more of the new subjects would be more likely to pass.45
The peak of ‘Abduh’s career came in 1899, when he was made Mufti of
Egypt.46 In this role, he became Egypt’s official interpreter of canon law,
the authority whose fatwas (legal verdicts) were final.47 Once again, ‘Abduh
brought a reformist mind-set to this new role: whereas his predecessors
had been content to issue rulings only on matters referred to them by
government departments, ‘Abduh opened the process up to the public.
In effect, anyone could present a matter for his consideration. Moreover,
many of the fatwas he issued demonstrated very liberal and modernising
sentiments. For example, not only did ‘Abduh allow Muslims to eat meat
slaughtered by Jews and Christians, but he also permitted them to deposit
money in the Postal Savings Bank, even though this would mean collecting
interest. Although popular amongst reformers, these rulings made ‘Abduh
the bane of many traditionalists.48
Death and Legacy
‘Abduh died on the 11 July 1905/8 Jumādā I 1323, while in Alexandria.
He had cancer of the kidney.49 The morning after his death, a large
cortege assembled to accompany his body to the railway station, where a
government-chartered train waited to take him back to Cairo. All along the
route, large crowds assembled to pay their respects. Once the body reached
the capital, it was met by government ministers, diplomatic representatives,
leading scholars and religious representatives. Together, they escorted
the body to al-Azhar, where a brief funeral service was held. In line with
‘Abduh’s wishes, no grand eulogising took place in his honour.50
Since his death, ‘Abduh has been labelled as a pioneer of modern
Islamic reform.51 As outlined above, his aim was to reframe Islam in a
modern idiom, to make it relevant to the contemporary world. He
strongly opposed any tendency towards taqlīd, a principle which (along
with his teacher, al-Afghānī) he blamed for Islam’s backwardness. Instead,
he favoured a return to ijtihād coupled with modernisation. As seen,
however, he did not favour merely imitating European culture; despite a
deep respect for Europe, reinforced by several additional visits to France
and England after his initial 1884 trip to Paris, ‘Abduh did not favour
the adoption of modern European ideology as a means of rejuvenating
Muslim culture.52 Rather, ‘Abduh advocated reform from within, believing
that Islam had the capacity to reform itself. Indeed, and as seen, he traced
much of Europe’s success to Islam; Muslims, ‘Abduh said, must learn to
reclaim those dynamic forces for themselves.
The bulk of ‘Abduh’s work was therefore aimed at reawakening Muslims
to the value of their own civilisation. At the core of this process lay his
educational reforms. For ‘Abduh, effective education geared towards
developing independent thought constituted the only effective means
of reclaiming Islam’s lost heart. His attempts to reform al-Azhar were

therefore motivated, not just by his own negative childhood experiences,
but by an urgent desire to develop a propensity for independent reasoning
amongst Muslims in general. Only this, he felt, could effectively act as a
basis for renewal.
In addition, ‘Abduh also favoured returning to the minimal essentials
of Islam – or those doctrines that all schools and factions could adhere
to. For him, these were the bare teachings of Islam, as contained in the
Qur’an and as represented by the deeds and actions of the Prophet and
his Companions (the salaf). Because of this stance, ‘Abduh has been
called the founder of modern-day Salafism.53 Commonly associated with
Islamic extremism, contemporary Salafī interpretations of Islam do indeed
emphasise a return to original sources. Unlike ‘Abduh, however, they often
equate the letter of the Islamic texts (or what is evident, al-zāhir) with their
meaning (or what is hidden, al-bāṭin). Consequently, Salafī practitioners
tend towards literalism, or the blind following of a text’s surface meaning54
– an approach which clearly runs contrary to ‘Abduh’s stated aims. For
‘Abduh, Salafī Islam was not about blindly adhering to the actions of the
salaf, but about interrogating those actions in order to uncover their true
meaning (al-bāṭin). It was this inner heart, ‘Abduh argued, rather than any
external form, which constituted true Islam. Muslims needed to reacquaint
themselves with that pure essence, and then restate it for the modern
world. For ‘Abduh, it was necessary to submit every original Islamic source
(except the Qur’an) to interrogation and, where appropriate, modification.
For many modern Salafīs, however, any such attempt at interpretation,
modification and restatement is taboo.55
Notes
1. Cited in Charles C. Adams, Islam and Modernism: A Study of the Modern
Reform Movement Inaugurated by Muhammad ‘Abduh (Kuala Lumpur: Islamic
Book Trust, 2010), 96.
2. The date 1848 was given by ‘Abduh himself, see Muḥammad Rashīd Ridā .
ed., Tārīkh al-ustādh al-imām al-shaykh Muḥammad ‘Abduh, vol. 1 (Cairo:
al-Manār, 1931), 16.
3. Al-Manār, 8 (1905): 379; Ridā, . Tārīkh, vol. 1, 13.
4. Adams, Islam and Modernism, 20.
5. Ibid, 20.
6. Yvonne Haddad, ‘Muhammad ‘Abduh: Pioneer of Islamic Reform,’ in
Pioneers of Islamic Revival, ed. ‘Ali Rahnama (London: Zed, 1994), 31.
7. Al-Manār, 8 (1905): 381.
8. Adams, Islam and Modernism, 23-4.
9. Ibid, 24-7.
10. Ibid, 30-1.
11. Al-Manār, 8 (1905): 386, 396-8.
12. Adams, Islam and Modernism, 33; Haddad, ‘Muhammad Abduh,’ 32.
13. Haddad, ‘Muhammad Abduh,’ 31.
14. Al-Manār, 8 (1905): 399-400.
15. Reprinted in Ridā. ed., Tārīkh, vol. 2.
16. Elie Kedourie, Afghani and ‘Abduh: An Essay on Religious Unbelief and Political
Activism in Modern Islam (London: Routledge, 2008), 12.
17. Ridā
. ed., Tārīkh, vol. 2, 9.
18. Ibid. For a summary of this text and its contents, see Oliver Scharbrodt, ‘The
Salafiyya and Sufism: Muhammad ‘Abduh and his Risalat al-Waridat (Treatise
on Mystical Inspirations),’ Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies
70:1 (2007): 89-115.
20. Muhammad Qasim Zaman, Religion and Politics under the Early ‘Abbāsids:
The Emergence of the Proto-Sunnī Elite (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 61-2.
22. Cited in al-Manār, 8 (1905): 391.
24. Al-Manār, 8 (1905): 393.
25. Ibid, 404.
26. Ridā
. ed., Tārīkh, vol. 3, 242; Adams, Islam and Modernism, 45.
27. Al-Manār, 8 (1905): 404.
28. Ibid, 405.
30. Ibid, 51-2.
31. Kedourie, Afghani and ‘Abduh, 35.
32. Ridā
. ed., Tārīkh, vol. 2, 526; al-Manār, 8 (1905): 455.
34. A more detailed outline of these aims can be found in Ridā . ed., Tārīkh, vol.
2, 250-4, 279-85. See also Haddad, ‘Muhammad Abduh,’ 33.
36. Haddad, ‘Muhammad Abduh,’ 32.
37. Al-Manār, 8 (1905): 462; Kedourie, Afghani and ‘Abduh, 15.
38. Muhammad
. ‘Abduh, The Theology of Unity (Risālat al-tawhīd),. trans. Ishāq
.
Musa‘ad and Kenneth Cragg (Kuala Lumpur: Islamic Book Trust, 2004), 11.
39. Ibid.
40. Ibid, 132-141.
41. Al-Manār, 8 (1905): 467.
42. Kedourie, Afghani and ‘Abduh, 37-8.
44. Al-Manār, 8 (1905): 467.
46. Al-Manār, 8 (1905): 487.
48. Ibid, 80.
49. Al-Manār, 8 (1905): 378.

51. See Haddad, ‘Muhammad Abduh,’ 31
52. Ibid, 34-5.
53. Ibid, 36.
54. Robert Gauvain, Salafi Ritual Purity: In the Presence of God (London:
Routledge, 2013), 4.
55. Abduh’s early positive experience of Sufism also stands in sharp contrast
to modern Salafism, which tends to condemn all forms of mysticism, see
Scharbrodt, ‘Salafiyya and Sufism,’ 89-115.
Further Reading
‘Abduh, Muhammad.
. The Theology of Unity (Risālat al-tawhīd).
. Translated by
Ishāq
. Musa‘ad and Kenneth Cragg. Kuala Lumpur: Islamic Book Trust, 2004.
Adams, Charles C. Islam and Modernism: A Study of the Modern Reform Movement
Inaugurated by Muhammad ‘Abduh. Kuala Lumpur: Islamic Book Trust, 2010.
Al-Manār, 8 (1905).
Gauvain, Robert. Salafi Ritual Purity: In the Presence of God. London: Routledge,
2013.
Haddad, Yvonne. ‘Muhammad ‘Abduh: Pioneer of Islamic Reform.’ In Pioneers of

Islamic Revival, edited by ‘Ali Rahnama, 30-63. London: Zed, 1994.
Kedourie, Elie. Afghani and ‘Abduh: An Essay on Religious Unbelief and Political
Activism in Modern Islam. London: Routledge, 2008.
Rida,
. Muhammad
. Rashīd ed. Tārīkh al-ustādh al-imām al-shaykh Muḥammad
‘Abduh, in 3 vols. Cairo: al-Manār, 1931.
Scharbrodt, Oliver. ‘The Salafiyya and Sufism: Muhammad ‘Abduh and his Risalat
al-Waridat (Treatise on Mystical Inspirations).’ Bulletin of the School of Oriental
and African Studies 70:1 (2007): 89-115.
Zaman, Muhammad Qasim. Religion and Politics under the Early ‘Abbāsids: The
Emergence of the Proto-Sunnī Elite. Leiden: Brill, 1997.
34
Tok Kenali (Muhammad Yusof)
(1868-1933CE)
Hakimah Yacoob and M. Fakhrurrazi Ahmad
Anyone who has studied the history of the Malay Peninsular – and
especially Kelantan – will have encountered Tok Kenali. Born in 1868 in
Kampung Kenali, Kubang Kerian (4.5 miles from Kota Bharu, Kelantan’s
state capital), Tok Kenali came from a very poor but religious family.1 His
father was named Ahmad bin Abdul Samad, while his mother was called
Fatimah binti Mohamed Salleh. Tok Kenali’s real name was Muhammad
Yusof – ‘Tok’ is a common Kelantanese nickname, signifying someone
who is old or knowledgeable, while ‘Kenali’ refers to his place of birth.
After spending his formative years in Kelantan, in 1886 Tok Kenali
went to Makkah, a journey made possible only with the financial help
of his friends and the generosity of a rich man from Kota Bharu. Once
there, and after performing the Hajj, Tok Kenali joined the study circles of
Nik Mahmud Ismail (a fellow Kelantanese Malay, d.1964) and Shaykh al-
Fatani (a Malay scholar from Patani, d.1908). His poverty, however, made
studying difficult; when he wanted to read books, he had to go to the local
book shops and ask permission to borrow what he needed. Nevertheless,
Tok Kenali successfully completed his studies, after which he taught at the
Masjid al-Ḥarām for five years, only finally choosing to return to Kelantan
after the death of his beloved teacher, Shaykh al-Fatani. Later he said that
he would not have returned to Kelantan but for Shaykh al-Fatani’s death.
In 1908, therefore, Tok Kenali returned to his homeland, where he
started teaching at his house in Kampung Paya. After just two years, his
name had become well known throughout the state. It was also at this
point that his earlier relationship with Nik Mahmud Ismail again became
useful. By this time, Nik Mahmud had also returned to Malaya and become
the Chief Minister of Kelantan. Under his influence, Tok Kenali became
TOK KENALI (MUHAMMAD YUSOF) 265
an informal advisor to the state government. In this capacity, in 1915

Tok Kenali, along with Nik Mahmud and another famous Kelantanese
scholar, Haji Mohamad Said, suggested to Kelantan’s Sultan Muhammad
IV (r.1900-1920) that a Council of Islamic Religion be established. As
a result, on the 7 December 1915, an official body with this title came
into being. Although its main objective was to maintain Islam’s privileged
position as the official religion of Kelantan, it also managed affairs related
to education and culture. It was in these areas that Tok Kenali would exert
his greatest influence.
Tok Kenali and the Pondok System

Tok Kenali was passionate about education, believing it was the only way
to free the people from ignorance and poverty. Consequently, when Nik
Mahmud asked him about how to develop Kelantan, he suggested the
government increase the number of educational institutions in the state.2
This suggestion resulted in Tok Kenali becoming Kelantan’s Chief of State
for Religious Education, in which capacity he accomplished his most
significant achievement: the reform of the pondok system.
The pondoks were (and still are) training centres for ulama, politicians,
writers and scholars, both in Kelantan and beyond. Traditionally, they
did not conform to a formal curriculum, simply seeking to encourage the
growth of Islamic knowledge and provide both theoretical and practical
education; students were responsible for carrying out daily chores within
the school and for assisting the institution economically, for which purposes
they learnt skills like carpentry, farming and animal husbandry in addition
to religious studies. Under Tok Kenali, however, the pondok system was
reformed, with a formalised curriculum put in place. Very quickly, the
establishment of reformed and standardised pondok became state policy,
with pondok-inspired institutions springing up throughout Kelantan.
Some of these became very influential. Tok Kenali’s own pondok (known
as Pondok Kenali), for example, became the state’s Faculty of Qur’anic
Science, Linguistics and Arabic Literature. Another pondok at Bunut
Payung, opened by Tok Kenali’s student, Haji Abdullah Tahir, became
the state’s Faculty of Fiqh, while another in Kampung Sireh became the
Faculty of Hadith.3 The establishment of these and other pondok attracted
both local and foreign students, including from countries like Cambodia,
Thailand and Indonesia. From being known only for its agricultural and
fishing industries, Kelantan soon became an important centre of Islamic
education in the Nusantara.
Overall, Tok Kenali’s educational outlook was influenced by the famous

Egyptian reformer, Muhammad ‘Abduh (d.1905). Like ‘Abduh, Tok Kenali
urged Muslims to return to the authentic teachings of the Qur’an and
Sunna. Moreover, he felt it was impossible to understand these two sources
of Islamic jurisprudence without knowing Arabic. He therefore made
Arabic compulsory in all the pondoks. To this end, he wrote his Durus al-
Kenaliah, Malaya’s first indigenously-produced book on Arabic grammar.
Even today, some pondoks still use this text as their main reference work.
Tok Kenali’s emphasis on Arabic subsequently influenced many of his
students, including Idris al-Marbawi, the well-known compiler of the first
comprehensive Malay-Arabic dictionary, the Kamus al-Marbawi, another
important reference text for Arabic learners in the Nusantara.4
Educational Philanthropy
The majority of Tok Kenali’s students came from very poor families. As a
responsible and reliable teacher, Tok Kenali could not let their poverty deny
them their right to a better education. He therefore used his reputation
as a great scholar to establish a fund for these students, supported by
contributions from wider society. Tok Kenali acted as the trustee of this
fund and his wife the manager.
Although Tok Kenali lived a simple and humble life, he never used the
contributions he received for his own benefit. All the money he received
was spent on the education of others. Many students and poor people
therefore benefitted from Tok Kenali’s cup of kindness. In honour of this
great contribution, the Kelantan state government established the Tok
Kenali Foundation in 1992. This foundation was designed to support
educational endeavours, charities and a social security scheme for senior
citizens.
Tok Kenali’s Most Famous Students

Teachers can have a lifelong impact on their students, and Tok Kenali
was no exception.5 Pondok Kenali became the alma mater of many
prominent Southeast Asian Muslim scholars. As well as the Chief Minister
of Johor, Datuk Haji Hasan Yunus al-Azhari, Pondok Kenali was also the
former home of many Muftis, including Kelantan’s Datuk Haji Ahmad
Mahir bin Haji Ismail and Datuk Haji Ismail bin Yusuf, Melaka’s Haji
Hasan bin Abu Bakar, Selangor’s Haji Ab. Jalil bin Ismail, Central Java’s
Dzu al-Mukhtasar bin Dzu al-Fudhail and Vietnam’s Haji Ismail Fikri.
Many of Tok Kenali’s former students also went on to found their own
religious educational institutions, including Uthmaan Jalaluddin al-
Kilantani (founder of Madrasah Manaabi’ al-‘Uluum wa Mataali’ al-
Nujum, Penanti, Seberang Perai), Haji Abdullah Tahir bin Haji Ahmad
(founder of Madrasah Ahmadiyyah Bunut Payung, Kota Bharu), Haji Ali
Shalaahuddin bin Awang (founder of Madrasah al-Falaah, Kota Bharu),
Haji Nik Muhammad Nik Mat (founder of Pondok Pulau Melaka), Haji
Ismail bin Ahmad (founder of Pondok Jabat, Narathiwat, Thailand) and
Haji Shalih bin Harun (founder of Pondok Asahan, East Sumatera).
Tok Kenali’s Literary Creativity

In addition to his educational work, Tok Kenali was also instrumental in
establishing Kelantan’s Office for Translation (he was personally entrusted
with the translation of important Arabic books, like Kitāb al-Umm, Tafsīr
Khāzin, and Tafsīr Ibn Kathīr). He also established a government printing
press, an official library of the State, and the fortnightly magazine, Pengasuh
(first published on 24 February 1918). He was also an informal advisor for
another monthly journal, al-Hibayah, launched in 1923.
In his writings, Tok Kenali was influenced by the literary traditions of
his time, especially penglipur lara (sad forms of entertainment) and dikir
barat (the exchanging of quatrains by singing). During Tok Kenali’s lifetime,
parables were also a common teaching method, one he frequently utilised.
For example, his most famous story revolves around methods of problem
solving; wisdom, Tok Kenali seeks to establish, is not just about memorising
and understanding texts, but also about understanding a problem and
solving it in an appropriate way. As such, his most famous story is known
as “The Brilliant Qāḍī [Judge].” It begins with two farmers, one of whom
breeds horses and the other cows. One day, the horse breeder loses his horse
and, after searching, finds it mixed in with a group of his neighbour’s cows.
When he tries to get the horse back, however, the cow breeder refuses,
claiming that the horse actually belongs to him. A bitter conflict between
the two men therefore ensures, motivating them to go to the qāḍī for a
resolution. Upon hearing their case, the qāḍī immediately realises that there
is a liar amongst them and determines a strategy for deciding who: he asks
his clerk to tell the two breeders that he cannot see them because he is
menstruating. Upon hearing this, the cow breeder expresses disbelief and
insists on seeing the qāḍī anyway. At this, the qāḍī immediately appeared
and declared, “If you did not believe that I am menstruating, then how do
you expect me to believe a cow can give birth to a horse? It is against nature.”
Fleeing from death is another important theme in Tok Kenali’s work.

In his anthology of short stories, for example, there is a story about a rich
man who is told by a fortune teller that he will die after being bitten by
a scorpion. Eager to escape death, the rich man decides to build a palace
on a lake where, surrounding by water, scorpions cannot reach him.
Nevertheless, one day a scorpion manages to reach the island with the help
of a frog. As a result, the rich man is bitten and dies. With this story Tok
Kenali hoped to convey how no one can escape death.
Even though he did not publish many books, Tok Kenali regularly
contributed to Pengasuh, as well as al-Hidayah and al-Imam magazines.
Other Contributions
In addition to the aforementioned activities, Tok Kenali was also:
1. a member of the Council of Islamic Scholars, Kelantan, between
1915 and 1933;
2. Headmaster of the Madrasah Muhammadiyyah, Kota Bharu;
3. a member of the Kelantan Council of Islamic Religion and Malay
Customs;
4. Founder of Jam’iyya al-‘Ashriyya (The Contemporary Convention
Centre), located in Kota Bharu. This centre organised educational
seminars and conferences designed to discuss contemporary Islamic
issues.6
Death and Legacy

On 19 November 1933, after suffering from a foot infection for several
months, Tok Kenali developed gangrene and died at the age of sixty-five.
Throughout his life, Tok Kenali had been well known as a generous and
honourable man, respectful of his elders and kind towards children. As a
teacher, he would always answer questions promptly, or else frankly admit
that he did not know the answer. Although his literary creativity is certainly
of value, he has not received the recognition he deserves in contemporary
Malaysia; his short stories are written in the Kelantanese dialect which,
although understandable to Malays in general, only really finds mass
appeal amongst the Kelantanese people themselves. Nevertheless, he was
undoubtedly one of colonial Malaya’s most exemplary scholars and, even
though his educational reforms were temporarily halted five years after his
death when Japan conquered Malaya, the pondok system survives today as
a testament to his dedication to Islamic reform.
Underpinning all of Tok Kenali’s activities was a belief that Islam was
revealed to abolish superstitious custom. A famous saying of his was biar
mati adat, jangan mati agama (let the custom die, but not the religion),
which stood in contrast to the popular Malay proverb, biar mati anak,
jangan mati adat (let the children die, but not tradition).
Notes
1. This short biography is based on Abdullah al-Qari Salleh’s Detik-detik Sejarah
Hidup Tok Kenali (Kuala Lumpur: al-Hidayah Publishers, 2006) and Cerpen
Warisan Tok Kenali (Kuala Lumpur: al-Hidayah Publishers, 2006).
2. Al-Qari Salleh, Sejarah Hidup Tok Kenali, 136-7.
3. Ibid, 233.
4. Syaikh Idris al-Marbawi was the first recipient of the Ma’al Hijrah Award from
the Malaysian government. He received the award in 1987 (1408 Hijrah).
5. Abdullah al-Qari Salleh, Tuk Kenali Penggerak Ummah (Kuala Lumpur:
Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 2009), 72-122.
6. Al-Qari Salleh, Sejarah Hidup Tok Kenali, 154-8.
Further Reading
Al-Qari Salleh, Abdullah. Cerpen Warisan Tok Kenali. Kuala Lumpur: al-Hidayah
Publishers, 2006.
___________________. Detik-detik Sejarah Hidup Tok Kenali. Kuala Lumpur:

al-Hidayah Publishers, 2006.
___________________. Tuk Kenali Penggerak Ummah. Kuala Lumpur: Dewan

Bahasa dan Pustaka, 2009.
35
Musa Jarullah Bigiyev
(1875-1949CE)
Elmira Akhmetova
Musa Jarullah Bigiyev (1875-1949) was a Muslim Tatar religious scholar,

journalist, politician, educator and prolific writer, who devoted his entire
life to reconciling Islam with modern progress. He published more than
sixty books in Arabic and Old Ottoman Turkish, dealing with Islamic
jurisprudence, theology, the sciences of the Qur’an, the sciences of the
hadith, literature, economics, law, politics and history.
Life and Times

Musa Jarullah was born in 1875, in Novo-Cherkassk, a Russian city near
Rostov-on-Don, to a middle-class scholarly Tatar family. His father died
when Jarullah was just six years old, after which Jarullah’s mother, Fatimah,
strove to raise her two sons – Zahir and Musa – as religious scholars.
Rostov-on-Don, however, was then a business centre dominated by ethnic
Russians. It was thus not conducive to Islamic learning. Consequently,
in 1888 Jarullah’s mother sent him to the city of Qazan, where he first
enrolled in the region’s famous religious school, Apanay, before joining the
Kul Buye madrasa. Two years later, Jarullah returned to Rostov-on-Don
and completed his studies at the Rostov-on-Don Real Technical lyceum.
After completing his initial education in Russia, Jarullah went to Central
Asia, to Bukhara and Samarqand. Unable, however, to satisfy his religious
and intellectual curiosity there, he journeyed on to Istanbul, where he
stayed for just a short time before moving on to Egypt. Once in Egypt,
he studied under both Shaykh Muhammad. Bakhit al-Mutiʿī (d.1935) and
Muhammad
. ‘Abduh (d.1905), two of Egypt’s most influential scholars
and both former students of Jamāl al-Dīn al-Afghānī (d.1897).1 During
MUSA JARULLAH BIGIYEV 271
this period, Jarullah also furthered his studies into the history of Qur’anic
studies at the National Library of Egypt.
After his time in Egypt, Jarullah went to perform Hajj, staying in
Makkah and Madinah for two years, where he continued his study of the
Qur’an and hadith of the Prophet Muḥammad. He later travelled to India
and spent a year in Uttar Pradesh, learning Sanskrit so that he could read
the Mahabharata (an ancient Indian epic, containing the Bhagavad Gita).
From India he travelled back to Egypt and continued his research at the
National Library for another three years. He then went to Beirut, and
from there by foot to Damascus.
In 1904, Jarullah finally returned to Russia. He was, however, very
depressed at the miserable situation of the educational system in the
Muslim world. Settling down in St Petersburg, he joined the Law Faculty
at the city’s university.2 This move to the then Russian capital, coincided
with the 1905 Revolution and the Tsarist government’s proclamations of
freedom for both the press and all political and religious association across
Russia, including for the Muslim community. Jarullah eagerly joined the
Muslim political and educational activities that ensued; together with his
comrade, the famous Tatar Pan-Islamist activist and thinker, ‘Abd al-Rashid
Ibrahimov (d.1944), Jarullah founded the Ülfet and Tilmiz newspapers
in St Petersburg. Jarullah was also active in organising the All-Russian
Muslim Congress during 1905-1917, which aimed at both uniting all
Muslims living under Tsarist rule and finding appropriate solutions to
their social, religious, educational and political dilemmas. He also served as
a Central Committee Member for the Russian Pan-Islamist party, Russiya
Musulmannarining Ittifaqi (Union of Russia’s Muslims), throughout 1906-
1917. In 1910, he was appointed Imam of the St. Petersburg mosque.
Jarullah initially welcomed the Russian February Revolution of
1917, claiming (perhaps naively) that “slavery is gone and will never
return.”3 Even when the Bolsheviks came to power following the October
Revolution, his confidence in achieving freedom for Russia’s Muslims did
not decrease. The new regime issued a ‘Declaration of the Rights of the
Peoples of Russia’ (26 October 1917), which proclaimed the equality and
sovereignty of the different peoples living in Russia, confirming their rights
to self-determination. Jarullah therefore considered the Soviet regime
a potential ally in the Muslim struggle against European imperialism.
However, when the Russian civil war finally ended in 1920, resulting
in the establishment of undisputed Soviet authority over the Muslim
populated territories of the Volga-Urals region, the Caucasian area and
Central Asia, the Communists began doing everything in their power to
liquidate Islam. As a result, in 1920 Jarullah wrote his Alphabet of Islam, a

response to The Alphabet of Communism (1919) by Nikolai Bukharin, the
main theorist behind the Russian Communist identity. Two months later,
his harsh criticisms of Marxist ideology led to his arrest by the Cheka (the
first Soviet Security organisation). He was later released, but only under
pressure from the international Muslim community. In 1926, Jarullah
attended the International Islamic Conference in Makkah as one of the
seven elected Russian delegates. Shortly afterwards, he was accused by the
Soviet regime of being a “spy of Turkey and India,” and, consequently, left
Soviet Russia secretly in 1930.
After leaving Russia, Jarullah travelled extensively throughout the
world. In 1933, for example, he was in Europe, where he founded an
Islamic publishing house in Berlin with the intention of using it as a
religious and scientific centre capable of uniting all European Muslim
intellectuals. The following year, Jarullah visited Finland, from where he
went to Iran and Iraq to learn about Shi’ism. By the end of 1935, he had
returned to Cairo, to continue his research into Qur’anic studies. In 1937,
he moved on to India, first to Mumbai (Bombay) and then Varanasi,
where he studied the Hindu Vedas. In 1938, he was invited by his friend,
Ibrahimov, to visit Japan. Afterwards, they both travelled on to China,
Indonesia (Java and Sumatra), and Singapore, acting as preachers of Islam.
In 1939, with the outbreak of World War II, Jarullah left for India. Once
there, he decided to settle down and end his expeditions. For that reason,
he headed for Kabul, Afghanistan, only to be arrested by the British in
Peshawar and imprisoned for several years without charge. Although the
ruler of Bhopal, Muḥammad Ḥamidullāh Khan (d.1960), was later able
to secure his release from prison, Jarullah remained under house arrest
until 1945. Although a difficult episode for Jarullah, this war-time period
was perhaps his most intellectually fruitful, as evinced by the publication
of ten major works on different issues.4 Jarullah passed away in Cairo in a
charitable hospice in October 1949.
Views on Islam and Civilisational Renewal
In his numerous writings, Jarullah deliberated about the problems facing
the modern Muslim world, especially the reasons for its backwardness. He
proposed many ways via which progress and virtue could be revived. In his
most significant work, entitled Khaliq Nazarina Bernicha Mas’ala (‘Several
Issues for Public Attention’, published in 1912), Jarullah praised Europe
(he called it the “civilised world”) for its freedom of thought as generated
(in his eyes) by the Protestant Reformation. By contrast, he decried the

miserable situation of the Muslim world, wherein the will to reason had
become captive to the restrictions favoured by the followers of different
madhhabs. Jarullah asserted that constriction of the unlimited potential of
Islam into the narrow circles of the existing madhhabs was the main reason
for the decline of Islamic civilisation.5
Jarullah also believed that the educational stagnation prevalent
throughout the Muslim world acted to confine Muslim willpower and
reason. As mentioned, after returning from his initial educational travels
across the Middle East, Jarullah expressed his dissatisfaction with the
existing Muslim educational system:
Seeds of love for religious sciences were planted into my heart by the
hands of the Almighty. After wasting ten years in the religious schools
of Qazan and Mawaraennahr, I departed to the Muslim countries
full of hope. I travelled in the Islamic lands of Turkey, Egypt, Ḥijāz,
India and Shām for nearly five years and stayed at the madrasahs
of those countries for either short or long periods. I have seen every
famous religious school of those lands. But, unfortunately, the thing
that I was able to find least in these ‘great religious madrasahs’ was
religious education.6
Jarullah felt that urgent educational reform was the only way to achieve
real success and progress in the Muslim world. He acknowledged, however,
that the defects of the Muslim educational system were not due to the
incompetence of the teaching staff, but to wrongly selected textbooks:
those currently in use were incapable of guiding students towards a
considered application of knowledge in the contemporary world.7 To
solve this problem, and upon his return to Russia in 1904, Jarullah began
writing his own textbooks for use in Islamic educational institutions. In
1909, Jarullah also began teaching at the Husainiyya madrasa in Orenburg,
Russia, then renowned for its diverse and progressive teaching staff. He
would, however, eventually lose this job because of his support for the idea
of the universality of God’s Mercy – an idea he fully expounded in two
books, both published in 1911: Rahmat Ilahiyye Borhannary (Evidences
for the Mercy of God) and Insannarning ‘Aqidah Ilahiyatlarene Ber Nazar
(A Glimpse of the People’s Belief in God).
Also in 1911, Jarullah published another controversial work, entitled
Ozin Konnarda Ruza: Ijtihad Kitaby (Fasting during Long Days: A Book
of Ijtihād), which was a result of his journey to Finland. Based on his
own ijtihād (independent legal reasoning), Jarullah suggested that there

was no obligation for Muslims to fast during the phenomenon of polar
nights. Instead, they could pay fidya (a donation made when the fast
is broken). A Russian scholarly periodical, Mir Islama (The World of
Islam), appraised the publication of this book as a significant event in
the Muslim world: “Works of Musa Bigiyev suddenly became an object
of special attention. The ideas of the Tatar philosopher began to spread
increasingly amongst the Muslims of Constantinople. His courageous
critique of traditional interpretations began to please many.”8 Likewise, a
famous Turkish periodical, Türk Yurdu, labelled Jarullah the mujtahid of
fourteenth-century AH Islam. Even so, in 1913 Mustafa Sabri, the shaykh
al-Islām of the Osmanli Sultanate, banned several ground-breaking books
by Jarullah on the grounds that they were too controversial.
Jarullah has often been labelled the ‘Martin Luther of Islam’ and a key
‘Islamic Reformist’.9 He repeatedly opposed these titles, however, saying
that his aim was not to reform the religion, since “Islam has no need for
religious reformation.” Rather, “it is not Islam, but we ourselves who have
social, religious and political diseases. For sure, we should seek remedies
for these diseases. Therefore…we need to reform ourselves.”10
Political Views
During Jarullah’s lifetime, nationalism was fast becoming the world’s
principle ideology. Spread across the Muslim world by European
colonialism, nationalism offered an alternative to Islam’s traditional
ummah-based identity. In Russia, Muslims became members of the Soviet
regime, which denounced both Islam and nationalistic inspirations as
superstition and sources of deviation from communism. In his writings,
Jarullah tried to expound on the modern ideologies of nationalism,
socialism and secularism through their relationship with the universal
values of rights, justice, equality and mutual assistance – principles which
he thought were essential for maintaining peace, social stability and human
security. He disowned racial ideas of nationalism (such as Turkism) and
the offering of privileges to ‘advanced’ nations at the expense of so-called
‘backward’ ones (as in the Soviet form of nationalism). At the same time,
Jarullah questioned the Soviet policy of ‘Proletarian Internationalism’, or
the worldwide unification of the proletariat against capitalism, calling it
a ‘myth’ and an ‘artificial remedy’ that would actually hinder attempts
to improve people’s social conditions. He believed that class-based civil
uprisings and enmity destroyed true human civilisation; they could only
ruin aspirations of social progress by developing a desire to promote

personal interests.11 According to Jarullah, only the protection of the
natural rights of nations could provide the world with real progress and
social harmony.
Ultimately, Jarullah affirmed that there was only one system capable
of achieving this protection and bringing equality to all nations: Islam.
He argued that, and unlike the principles of nationalism, racism or
communism, Islam saw all ethnic groups as equals. Jarullah believed in the
equality of all peoples, regardless of their religious, ideological or ethnic
peculiarities. According to him, the words of Allah, “As long as these stand
true to you, stand ye true to them: for Allah doth love the righteous”
(Qur’an 9:7), constituted the basic Islamic principle governing relations
between Muslims and other peoples. Adhering to it, Jarullah called for
equality between all nations, both in Russia and beyond.12
Notes
1. Ahmet Kanlıdere, Reform Within Islam: The Tajdid and Jadid Movement
among the Kazan Tatars (Istanbul: Eren, 1997), 53-4.
2. Abdullah Battal-Taymas, Musa Carullah Bigi: Kişiligi, Fikir Hayatı ve Eserleri
(Istanbul: M. Sıralar Matbaası, 1958), 8.
3. Ibid, 17 and Elmira Akhmetova, ‘Musa Jārullāh Bigiev (1875-1949): Political
Thought of a Tatar Muslim Scholar,’ Intellectual Discourse 16, no. 1 (2008):
53.
4. Akhmetova, ‘Musa Jārullāh Bigiev,’ 57.
5. Jārullāh, Khaliq Nazarina Bernicha Mas’ala (Qazan: Electro-Tipografiya
Umid, 1912), 38-9.
6. Jārullāh, Al-Luzumiyyat (Qazan: Sharaf Publishing House, 1907), 2.
7. Ibid.
8. See E. Akhmetova, Ideas of Muslim Unity at the Age of Nationalism: A
Comparative Study of the Concept of the Ummah in the Writings of Musa
Jārullāh and Said Nursi (Germany: Lambert Academic Publishing, 2009), 24.
9. See Kanlıdere, Reform Within Islam, 58-71.
10. Jārullāh, Buyuk Maudu’larda Ufaq Fikerler (St Petersburg: M-A. Maqsutov
Publishing House, 1914), 5.
11. Akhmetova, ‘Musa Jārullāh Bigiev,’ 58-9.
12. E. Akhmetova, ‘Impact of Nationalism on Civilisational Development and
Human Security,’ Islam and Civilisational Renewal 4, no. 4 (2013): 626.
Further Reading
Akhmetova, E. ‘Musa Jārullāh Bigiev (1875-1949): Political Thought of a Tatar
Muslim Scholar.’ Intellectual Discourse 16, no. 1 (2008): 49-71.
Akhmetova, E. Ideas of Muslim Unity at the Age of Nationalism: A Comparative

Study of the Concept of the Ummah in the Writings of Musa Jārullāh and Said
Nursi. Germany: Lambert Academic Publishing, 2009.
Akhmetova, E. ‘Impact of Nationalism on Civilisational Development and

Human Security.’ Islam and Civilisational Renewal 4, no. 4 (2013): 615-633.
Jārullāh. Al-Luzumiyyat. Qazan: Sharaf Publishing House, 1907.
______. Buyuk Maudu’larda Ufaq Fikerler. St Petersburg: M-A. Maqsutov

Publishing House, 1914.
______. Khaliq Nazarina Bernicha Mas’ala. Qazan: Electro-Tipografiya Umid,

1912.
Kanlıdere, Ahmet. Reform Within Islam: The Tajdid and Jadid Movement among the
Kazan Tatars. Istanbul: Eren, 1997.
Kanlıdere, Ahmet. ‘Musa Jarullah Bigiyef: Why Did the Muslim World Decline
While the Civilized World Advanced?’ In Modernist Islam 1840-1940: A Source
Book, edited by C. Kurzman, 254-6. New York: Oxford University Press, 2002.
36
Bediüzzaman Said Nursi
(1877-1960CE)
Karim D. Crow
Few twentieth-century Muslims have had so great an impact on their

countrymen and upon Islamic renewal as the Turkish intellectual and
spiritual activist, Bediüzzaman Said Nursi (1877-1960). Contemporary
Turkish Muslim identity owes its validity to Nursi’s untiring labour. His
collected letters, Risale-i Nur (Epistles of Light), seek to demonstrate,
through clearly reasoned arguments and easily understood stories and
comparisons, that Islamic revelation offers a rational explanation for
existence. According to Nursi, the truth of religion corroborates and
reinforces modern scientific discoveries.
Said Nursi was born in 1877, in the Kurdish hamlet of Nurs, Bitlis
province, eastern Turkey. Few details are known about his early life,
though a Sufi aura is evident; not only did he later claim that the famous
Sufi Shaykh, ʿAbdul Qādir al-Jilānī (d.561AH/1166CE), magically guided
him during his youth, but throughout his life he felt a clear affinity for the
Naqshbandiyya Sufi order. Nursi was a child prodigy with a prodigious
memory and far-reaching vision. While residing in the regional centres of
Bitlis and Van, he encountered the leading scholars of eastern Anatolia.
Although rustic in manner and dress – he sported a dagger at his waist and
was a skilled horseman and courageous fighter – at heart he loved nature
and preferred solitude. Noted for his extreme frugality and service, Nursi
was a model of utter sincerity, intelligence and faith.
Nursi became deeply learned in not just the traditional Islamic
religious and intellectual sciences, but also in the modern disciplines of
mathematics, physics, chemistry and astronomy, all before he reached the
age of twenty. Wanting to put this knowledge to good use, towards the
end of the nineteenth century he opened his own madrasa in Van, where
he combined positive science with classical religious disciplines. While in

Van, he also pursued his own education:
I used to repeat by heart the eighty to ninety books I had memorized.
They were the steps by which to ascend to the truths of the Qur’an.
Sometime later, I ascended to those truths, and I saw that each verse
of the Qur‘an encompasses the universe. No need then remained for
anything else, the Qur’an alone was sufficient for me.
During his early years as a teacher, Nursi conceived the idea of founding
a university in eastern Anatolia, where modern and religious sciences could
be taught side-by-side. He anticipated that educational reform of this sort
would help reverse ignorance and backwardness and contribute towards
resolving the social and political problems facing Islam.
An Ottoman Intellectual and Opponent of Kemalist Reform

In 1907, Nursi left Van for the Ottoman capital, Istanbul. There he swiftly
advanced amongst Ottoman political and intellectual circles, becoming
involved in the Committee of Union and Progress, the Constitutional
Movement, and the Society for Muslim Unity. Between 1914 and 1916,
however, he returned to Van, to help organise and lead the resistance
against a Tzarist and Armenian invasion of his homeland. There he was
captured by the Russians in 1916, subsequently enduring harsh captivity
in Kosturma (Northern Russia) until 1918, when he made his escape by
crossing the Volga. Returning to Istanbul via Berlin, he arrived back in his
homeland as a hero.
His return to Istanbul, however, occurred after the Ottoman defeat
during the First World War. In the wake of that event, Nursi became actively
involved in several leading national organisations, remaining so throughout
the Turkish war of liberation (1920-1922), the subsequent demise of the
Ottoman sultanate, and the consolidation of the independent nation state
of modern-day Turkey, led by the Grand National Assembly under the
leadership of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk (d.1938). Throughout 1918-1922,
Nursi also served on the learned body, Darul’-Hikmeti’l-Islamiye, which
sought to promote Islamic principles in the newly emerging political
order. In 1923, his membership of this organisation brought him into
conflict with Atatürk; the two men disagreed about the role of Islam in
the new Republic, Atatürk coming to see Nursi as a chief opponent to his
policy of secularisation, which he deemed necessary for the establishment
of modernity. Nursi was therefore compelled to return to Van, where he re-
BEDIÜZZAMAN SAID NURSI 279
engaged with his educational goals. He did so, however, in the realisation
that his true enemy was this newly ascendant secular mentality, bent on
uprooting Islam in the name of progress, power and science.
Non-Violent Resistance: Moral-Spiritual Jihād

After Atatürk succeeded in placing the Turkish Republic on a secular-
nationalist footing, Nursi conceived, organised and directed a remarkable
non-violent campaign to renew and fortify Islam in Turkey. The non-
violent nature of this campaign was inspired by Nursi’s refusal to support
the 1925 Şeyh Said Revolt, a Kurdish uprising against Atatürk’s new
government. This revolt was led by the Naqshbandiyya Shaykh of Palu,
who had earlier solicited Nursi’s support in a letter. Nursi had refused to
assist, however, stating that for Muslims to kill other Muslims was against
the Sharia; all Muslims were brothers, with fighting only being permitted
against external enemies. Nevertheless, after the Şeyh Said Revolt had been
crushed, Atatürk suspected Nursi of involvement and placed him under
house arrest, where he remained for more than thirty years. First confined
to the town of Burdur, he was later moved to Barla (near Lake Eşridir), then
Kastamonu (south of the Black Sea), and finally Emirdağ. Throughout
this period, Nursi endured continual police surveillance, periods of
imprisonment, attempted poisonings, and psychological torment. He was
also the subject of four dramatic public trials (Eski Şehir 1935, Denizli
1944, Afyon 1949, and Istanbul 1952), as well as numerous other court
proceedings. All Nursi’s public trials, however, resulted in his acquittal.
Throughout his many tribulations, Nursi taught the necessity for
‘positive action’, both to counter the attacks of those inimical to Islam
and refute the widespread perception that Islam (as traditionally taught
and practised) contradicted reason and modern science. Throughout the
period 1925 to 1945, this non-violent campaign of çihad-i mânavî (moral-
spiritual jihād) manifested itself in a non-stop stream of essays, epistles,
and treatises. These writings, written in literary Ottoman Turkish using the
by-then defunct Arabic script (after 1928, the Kemalist regime enforced
the Latin script), became collectively known as Risale-i Nur (Epistle of
Light). Officially banned, this text had to be hand-copied and privately
distributed through informal networks. A large number of sections were
written out by children, women and the elderly, and then smuggled back
to Nursi for review and correction. Nursi placed great stress on this self-
sacrificing service of copying and disseminating, well aware of the risks
involved. His followers were continuously watched by state authorities and

their homes searched for any traces of his writings, possession of which
brought imprisonment. Only in 1947 were two duplicating machines
finally acquired for reproducing his writings, with some pieces being put
into the Latin alphabet. From this point on, Istanbul and Ankara became
major centres for the distribution of his work, including amongst university
students and young professionals (army officers and bureaucrats). In 1956,
the courts finally lifted all legal restrictions on the publication of the Risale-i
Nur and, from the following year, it began to be printed on modern presses
in the Latin script.
Nursi’s view of ‘positive action’ entailed patient, silent struggle to
strengthen faith while also stressing mutual consultation, cooperation,
consensus, brotherhood, and the cultivation of a collective personality
embedded in the shared values of self-sacrifice and service. He grounded
this understanding of peaceable jihād in essential Qur’anic teachings. This
method had few counterparts in the Islamic world at that time, where
attempts to serve and promote Islam were often politically driven and
tinged with violence. It is, for example, interesting that Nursi’s non-violent
campaign occurred contemporaneously with Abdul Ghaffar Khan’s militant
‘Servants of God’ campaign against British occupation in North West India.
For Nursi, the Risale-i Nur was about true sincerity. It was about
complete and selfless service, deep taqwā (God-consciousness), and the
preservation of public order and stability. For him, this was the essence
of non-violent action and the purest method of persuasion and reform in
Islam. As Nursi stated in his last instructions, given on 30 December 1959
in Ankara:
The essential matter at this time is cihad-i mânavî. It is to form a barrier
against moral and spiritual destruction, and to assist internal order
and security with all our strength…The most important condition of
the spiritual-moral jihad is not interfering in God’s concerns; that is:
‘Our duty is to serve, its results are Almighty God’s concern. We are
charged with carrying out our duty, and are obliged to do so.’…It is
not material or physical service that is needed, but non-physical and
moral. For this reason we do not interfere with politicians, nor have
politicians any right to busy themselves with us!1
Nursi’s life was marked by great perseverance and self-sacrifice, flowing
from remarkable inner resources. In his last years, and despite his rapidly
increasing fame, Nursi curtailed his meetings with other people, receiving
only those involved in the publication of his Risale-i Nur. This was because
BEDIÜZZAMAN SAID NURSI 281
of the discomfiture he felt when faced with the excessive respect and
veneration his visitors tended to direct towards him, coupled with his
innate need to maintain absolute sincerity. On one of his last visits to
Konya in December 1959, Nursi prayed at the tomb of Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī
(d.656/1258) while surrounded by policemen charged with monitoring
him and restricting his contact with other people. On emerging from the
tomb, he told the police:
Thank you! It is torment for me to have my hands kissed, and you
prevented it. For twenty-eight years I have served this country’s
peace and security with imprisonment, torture, detention, and
oppression. You serve its order and security physically, while I serve
it in a non-material way. We have served it as much as a thousand
public prosecutors and police chiefs, so look upon us as fellow-
officials, not in any other way. And tell this to your fellow police.2
Nursi died in Urfa (North East Turkey) on 25 Ramadān . 1379/23
March 1960. An official record states that at the time of his death, his
total possessions amounted to 551 Turkish lira and 50 kuruş, a watch,
a gown, shawl, prayer mat, and a tea pot with accompanying glasses.
Although Nursi had asked to be interred in an unknown grave, the
population of Urfa laid him to rest in their most sacred shrine, the grave
of the prophet Ibrāhīm. Three and a half months later, however, in July
1960, Turkey’s newly installed military government secretly moved his
body to an unknown location near Isparta. His brother, Abdülmecid, was
brought in from Konya to assist in identifying the corpse; Abdülmecid
later stated that Nursi’s body had been in a perfect state of incorruptibility,
his face smiling and a sweet odour emanating from his body. In Turkey
(as elsewhere), physical immunity from decay is taken as an indication
of great sanctity. After Nursi’s body was removed to Isparta, its precise
location has remained unknown.
Nursi’s message of non-violent resistance, self-sacrifice and service has
left an indelible mark on modern-day Turkey. It was largely because of his
singular campaign that Islam retains any kind of public presence in Turkey
today. Arabic, Urdu and English translations of his writings continue to be
produced and have helped disperse his teachings worldwide. The popular
Fethullah Gülen organisation, with its global educational and cultural
mission, is a direct off-shoot of Nursi’s lifework. The uniqueness and value
of his message, coupled with its continued resonance, surely qualifies Nursi
as an architect of Islamic civilisation.
Notes
1. Bediüzzaman Said Nursi, Jihad and the Word of Positive Action: Bediuzzaman
Said Nursi’s Interpretation of Jihad in the Modern Age (Istanbul: Sozler
Publications, n.d.).
2. Cited in Şukran Vahide, The Author of the Risale-i Nur: Bediuzzaman Said
Nursi (Istanbul: Szler Publications, 1992), 367.
Further Reading
Mardin, Šerif. Religion and Social Change in Modern Turkey: The Case of
Bediüzzaman Said Nursi. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press,
1989.
Nursi, Bediüzzaman Said. Işârâtü l-I‘caz fi Mazânni’ l-Icaz. Istanbul: Sözler

Yayınevi, 1978.
____________________. Jihad and the Word of Positive Action: Bediuzzaman Said

Nursi’s Interpretation of Jihad in the Modern Age. Istanbul: Sozler Publications,
n.d.
____________________. Risale-i Nur. Available at: http://saidnur.com/en
____________________. The Supreme Sign: Observations of a Traveller

Questioning Creation Concerning His Maker. Translated by Hamid Algar.
Berkeley, CA: Risale-i Nur Institute of America, 1979.
Şahiner, Necmeddin. Bediüzzaman Said Nursî ve Nurculuk Hakkında Aydınlar

Konuşuyor, 2nd ed. Istanbul: Yeni Asya Yayınları, 1979.
Vahide, Şukran. The Author of the Risale-i Nur: Bediuzzaman Said Nursi. Istanbul:
Sozler Publications, 1992.
__________. Islam in Modern Turkey: An Intellectual Biography of Bediuzzaman

Said Nursi. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 2005.
37
Muḥammad al-Ṭāhir Ibn ‘Āshūr
(1879-1973CE)
Eric Winkel
The Tunisan scholar, Muḥammad al-Ṭāhir ibn ‘Āshūr (1879-1973),

came from a renowned family of scholars. When he entered al-Zaytūna
University in Tunis, special care was taken to provide him with the best
teachers. Later he became a teacher at al-Zaytūna himself, staying there
for the whole of his career. Throughout his life, he was famous for his
integrity: when President Habib Bourguiba of Tunisia wanted a fatwa
issued justifying the abandonment of fasting during the month of Ramadān .
(because it supposedly decreased economic productivity), Ibn ‘Āshūr made
his response by reciting sūra 2 (al-Baqara) āya 183 (“Prescribed for you is
fasting”) while adding “ṣadaqa Allāh al-‘Aẓīm [Allah speaks the truth] and
Bourguiba lies.”
Influenced by the modernist reformer Muḥammad ‘Abduh (d.1905),
Ibn ‘Āshūr combined a thorough knowledge of the Islamic classics with a
desire to revive modern-day Islamic civilisation. In his most famous work,
the Maqāṣid al-Sharī‘a al-Islāmiyya (The Intents/Higher Goals of Islamic
Law), published in 1946, it is clear that he saw himself as a bridge between
Islam’s classical legal heritage and the needs of the modern world. While
his references to the great works of Islamic law were always respectful,
he never hesitated to point out their shortcomings. In particular, Ibn
‘Āshūr believed that the discipline of uṣūl al-fiqh (the principles of Islamic
jurisprudence) had reached its limit, having become over-burdened with
methodological technicalities. Notably, he felt that Muslims could not
generate legal responses to modern-day situations by simply delving deeper
and deeper into the meaning of a word (a common preoccupation of uṣūl
al-fiqh). By its very nature, language is fundamentally ambiguous; one
cannot simply take a word and endlessly delve into its meaning without
understanding the larger context in which that word resides. As such,
Ibn ‘Āshūr argued that Muslims must take up the perennial challenge of
discovering and implementing the higher goals (maqāṣid) of Sharia.1
Because it is frequently difficult to ascertain the intent of a speaker
from a single sentence, Ibn ‘Āshūr also questioned the juridical weight
of isolated (ahad) hadiths when determining legislation. Instead, he felt
that legislative value should be sought from the totality of Sharia. Ibn
‘Āshūr worried that taking a solitary hadith in isolation would entail the
abandonment of contextual understanding; for him, it was problematic
to prefer a solitary hadith over a rational deduction based on established
context. In this regard, Ibn ‘Āshūr felt that Imam Shāfi’ī (d.204AH/820CE)
had been misunderstood as accepting solitary hadith over the totality of
Sharia. Likewise, he argued that Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal (d.241/855) had also
been misrepresented as accepting a weak hadith over qiyās (analogical
reasoning, a part of rational deduction). Ibn ‘Āshūr argued that, while
both hadith and qiyās were open to error, because a weak hadith might be
a lie, the consequence of using it would be worse than using qiyās.2
Ultimately, Ibn ‘Āshūr understood that the basis of the Sharia must be
rational. He said:
One of the greatest things required by the universality of the sharī‘ah
is that its rules be equal for all communities following it to the utmost
extent possible, because similarity in the flow of rules and laws helps
achieve group unity. Because of this special wisdom, Allah founded
this sharī‘ah on wisdom, that it may be reflected upon [i’tibār al-
hikam] by a reason that may be perceived by the intellect, which
does not differ [from person to person] even though communities
and customs may be different.3
In other words, because the Sharia is universal, it cannot be restricted to
a single culture. Although the Sharia was revealed in the Arabic language,
and to an Arabic people, thereby colouring it with Arabic culture, its intent
was universal. It should therefore be intelligible to people everywhere,
telling us that there must be reasons behind the law. Indeed, this is not
hard to see. The prohibitions against keeping raisin juice in certain kinds of
containers, for example, comes from the fact that, in the heat of the Hijaz,
the juice would quickly ferment. In cold climates, however, this would not
apply, necessitating a different type of container. But to stubbornly hold
onto superficialities like this without understanding the intent behind
them would be to “expose the sharī‘ah to being dismissed disdainfully.”4
MUḤAMMAD AL-ṬĀHIR IBN ‘ĀSHŪR 285
In this context, Jasser Auda notes Ibn Ashūr’s comment that “the Prophet
forbade his Companions to write down what he said, ‘lest particular cases
be taken as universal rules.’”5
Ibn ‘Āshūr saw literal-mindedness as a legacy of the Ẓāhirī juristic
position. His strongest argument against this position appealed to the
limited occurrence of the literal occasions Ẓāhirīs relied on to make sense
of the law. The different situations people encounter all around the world,
he said, were unlimited and rendered these literal occasions irrelevant. Ibn
‘Āshūr therefore argued that the maqāṣid of the Sharia must be engaged, to
determine the intent behind the rules.
Ibn ‘Āshūr’s work consistently focused on current situations; while many
Muslims believe that Islamic law is a codebook allowing judges to make
decisions about right and wrong, after working with the original meanings
of qaḍāʾ and qāḍī, Ibn ‘Āshūr argued that the role of a judge is actually to
make evaluations (i.e. judgements) based on contemporary evidence. In
this regard, Ibn ‘Āshūr cites two hadith which demonstrate the importance
of ‘reading’ current situations and recognising that judgements are not
always prescribed. He writes:
In a ḥadīth in the Muwattāʾ
.. two men are disputing before the
Messenger of God, and one of them says, “Judge between us, O
Messenger of God, by the book of God.” The other says – and
he was the more understanding of fiqh of the two – “Hold on, O
Messenger of God. Judge between us by the book of God and give
me permission to speak.” The Messenger of God said, “Speak.”
Ibn ‘Āshūr also refers to an occasion when the Prophet dispatched a qaḍī
to Yemen, instructing him as follows:
When two disputants sit before you, do not make your judgment
until you have heard out the second just as you heard out the first,
because it is more appropriate that the judgment become gradually
clarified for you.
This means that the judge needs to understand all the facts of a situation
before making a judgment. In conjunction with Ibn ‘Āshūr’s views on the
maqāṣid al-sharīʿah, this makes it clear that Ibn ‘Āshūr attached equal
importance to knowing and understanding the situation (ḥāl) a judgement
pertains to as to knowing and understanding the relevant legal maxims
(aḥkām). Literalists, on the other hand, tend to think that consideration of
only what is apparent is sufficient, that superficialities should rule society.
The above phrase, however, “give me permission to speak,” tells us that,
no matter how simple a situation may be, we still need to delve deeper
if we are to discover the truth. Ibn ‘Āshūr uses the word istiṣqā for this
‘digging in deep’, or investigating thoroughly and not being content with
the superficial.
Far from a technique or methodology, the search for the higher
objectives of Sharia is an inner desire for amelioration. Ibn ‘Āshūr writes:
It has come over me today that the greatest objective of the Law
is attraction toward amelioration and repulsion of polluting. That
comes about by ameliorating the state of the human being and
repelling his pollution, because as he is the guardian over this world,
in his amelioration there is the amelioration of the world and its
situations, and that’s why we see Islam as the remedy and treatment
for the human being by bettering his individual members who are a
part of him, and by bettering the whole.
This is an internal or spiritual foundation for the human being; from
this foundation of love for amelioration, the whole gains its benefit. In this
context, Ibn ‘Āshūr also cites the Prophetic statement, “Indeed in the body
there is a lump; when it is healthy, the whole body is health, and when it is
polluted, the whole body is polluted. Indeed, it is the heart.”
Although this inner or spiritual aspect is too frequently ignored
today, in Ibn ‘Āshūr’s time it was sufficiently well understood to allow
him to concentrate on other issues. Most notably, he was concerned with
demonstrating to his audience that the Sharia was designed for felicity and
not punitive hardship. He writes:
And in the ḥadīth in Ṣaḥīḥ Bukhārī and others, the Messenger of
God ṣallallāhu ‘alayhi wasallam sent ‘Alī and Mu‘ādh to Yemen
and told them, “Make things easy and don’t make things hard, and
give good news and don’t drive people away.” And the Messenger of
God ṣallallāhu ‘alayhi wasallam said to his companions, “You were
sent to be ones making things easy, and you weren’t sent to make
things hard.” And from ‘Āʾishah, “The Messenger of God always
decided between two things by choosing the easier one of the two
as long as there was no offense.” And the meaning of “offense” here
is what the Law points to of taboo, as al-Shātibī
. said in the second
section on the seventh issue of the kinds of taboo, and in many
places repeated in his book, “The evidence for removing hardship
for this community is definitely what has been conveyed,” and he
points this out with much evidence…
MUḤAMMAD AL-ṬĀHIR IBN ‘ĀSHŪR 287
Finally, Ibn ‘Āshūr called for ijtihād (independent legal reasoning) in

the strongest terms. He said, “Ijtihād is a collective duty (farḍ al-kifāyah) on
the community according to the measure of need.” He chastised Muslims
for neglecting ijtihād, despite the fact that the capacity to engage in it
was readily available.6 He wanted to see Muslims coming forth to practice
ijtihād globally. For him, it was clear that a lack of ijtihād would have
grave consequences. He called for the assembly of a group of mujtahid
(those qualified to perform ijtihād) from all the countries of the world,
and from all the different madhahib (legal schools), to address the needs of
the Muslim community as a whole. This would be the basis for a renewal
of Islamic civilisation. Certainly, civilisational renewal requires this kind of
creative approach, and Ibn ‘Āshūr’s legacy challenges and invites us to take
up that project. Auda recognises this legacy thus:
Whether we consider Ibn Ashur’s contribution to be a sort of re-
interpretation of the same theory with a new one, it is clear that
Ibn Ashur’s contribution had opened the door for contemporary
scholars to develop the theory of maqāsid
. in new ways.
7
Indeed, Ibn ‘Āshūr ended his own work in similar terms, saying:
We have fulfilled what was connected to the most important
intentions of this book in filling out the maqāṣid of sharī‘ah, and
perhaps this has opened the eyes of the legal scholars.
Notes
1. Muhammad
. al-Ṭāhir ibn ‘Āshūr, Maqāsid
. al-Sharī’a al-Islāmiyya (‘Ammān:
Dār al-Nafā’is, 2001), 203.
2. Ibid, 204-5.
3. Ibid, 320.
4. Ibid, 215.
5. Jasser Auda, Maqasid al-Shariàh: A Beginner’s Guide (London: IIIT, 2008),
44.
6. Ibn ‘Āshūr, Maqāṣid al-Sharī’a, 407.
7. Auda, Maqasid al-Shariàh, 24.
Further Reading
Auda, Jasser. Maqasid al-Shariàh: A Beginner’s Guide. London: IIIT, 2008.
Ibn ‘Āshūr, Muhammad

. al-Ṭāhir. Maqāsid
. al-Sharī‘a al-Islāmiyya. ‘Ammān: Dār
al-Nafā’is, 2001. [Also see the English translation of this text, Muhammad
al-Tahir ibn Ashur, Treatise on Maqāsid
. al-Shari‘ah. Translated by Mohamed
el-Tahir el-Mesawi. London: International Institute of Islamic Thought, 2006]
38
Malek Bennabi
(1905-1973CE)
Mohamed Azam Mohamed Adil
Malek Bennabi (or Mālik bin Nabī, 1905-1973) was one of the twentieth
century’s most important and original Muslim thinkers. Considered
by many to be the greatest Muslim historian since Ibn Khaldūn
(d.808AH/1409CE), Bennabi originally graduated in engineering from
Paris and Algiers, later spending an enormous amount of time in Cairo,
where he studied history, philosophy and sociology.1 After returning to
Algeria in 1963, at a time when modern science and technology were
unfolding across the country, he developed a desire to search for the
essence of culture and the birth of civilisation. This coalesced in his search
for the root of the problems facing Muslim society; like Ibn Khaldūn, he
learnt history in order to determine the causes behind the rise and fall of
civilisations. Frustrated with the failure of some Muslim leaders to address
the problems faced by the Muslim Ummah, he tried to solve them in his
own way.
Life
Malek Bennabi was born in Constantine, Algeria, on 1 November 1905.
The only brother to three sisters, he came from an educated family who
valued the pursuit of knowledge. But during the French occupation of
Algeria, which lasted until 1962, most Algerians lived in poverty. Bennabi’s
father, too, faced difficulty obtaining a job, making the education of his
only son difficult. But despite this limitation, Bennabi’s father did his
best to further Bennabi’s education, starting with Qur’anic school. While
MALEK BENNABI 289
young, Bennabi also learnt much from his grandmother, who used to tell
him fables. During this period, fables played an important role in Algerian
life, transferring values, ideas and beliefs. Bennabi’s grandmother helped
him formulate an appreciation of these stories as cultural resources.2
During World War I (1914-1918), Bennabi’s family saw their financial
situation worsen. Bennabi was therefore sent to live with his great uncle’s
wife, with whom he could continue studying. During this period, Bennabi
also had the opportunity to learn from his grandfather, who had returned
from Tripoli after the Italian invasion (1911). His grandfather use to
complain about the social and economic problems facing Algeria, exposing
Bennabi to the frustrations and problems of the Ummah.3
Once his formal schooling began, Bennabi proved quite brilliant,
achieving the highest scores in all his final elementary school
examinations. Despite this, the French authorities’ habitual practice of
racial discrimination meant Bennabi was not given the highest grade in
his class – a fact which only motivated him to study even harder, as a
challenge to the system.4
Subsequent to his elementary school education, Bennabi was transferred
to a madrasa in Constantine, where (and unusually) classes were in both
French and Arabic. Bennabi enjoyed his French classes, in which he read
novels by Jules Verne and others. In his Arabic classes, he use to read both
classical and modern poetry, by authors like Mustafā .. Lutfī
. al-Manfalūtī .
(d.1924), Ḥafiz. Ibrāhīm (d.1932), and the Lebanese-American, Khalil
Gibran (d.1931). During this period, he also encountered two books
that would later influence his critical thinking: a French translation of
John Dewy’s How We Think? and G. Courtellemont’s L’Histoire sociale de
l’humanite (A Social History of Humanity).5
In addition to his madrasa schooling, Bennabi also studied under Shaykh
Ibn Mawhub, a former Mufti of Constantine and an advocate of progress
via modern scientific reform and the adoption of European ideas. Bennabi
studied Arabic grammar at the Grand Mosque of Constantine, where he
joined the teaching circle of Shaykh ‘Abd al-Majīd, a prominent critic of
Algeria’s traditional Sufism and the abusive policies of the French colonial
regime. Exposure to these two intellectual figures encouraged Bennabi to
think critically, inclining him towards Islamic reformist ideas (iṣlāḥ). Some
of the most important reformist texts to influence him during this period
were Ahmad Riza’s La faillite morale de la politique occidentale en orient
(The Moral Bankruptcy of Western Policy in the East), ‘Abd al-Raḥmān
al-Kawākibī’s Umm al-qura (The Mother of Towns), Isabella Eberhardt’s
L’Ambre chaude de l-Islam (The Warm Shadow of Islam) and Muḥammad
‘Abduh’s Risalāt al-tawḥīd (The Theology of Divine Unity). Bennabi’s

contact with these texts helped shape his intellectual development. They
also made him more aware of the social and cultural changes taking place
in Algeria.6
When he left school in 1925 at age twenty, Bennabi had no clear
picture of what he wanted to do. Travelling to France, he worked for one
company after another, finally ending up at a brewery. Quickly becoming
disgusted with France’s second-class treatment of its Algerian workers, he
soon gave up and returned to his homeland. Upon his return, he worked
as a courtroom assistant, later rising to become a court officer. Throughout
this period he regularly took the opportunity to develop and spread his
reformist ideas.7
After five years spent in Algeria, Bennabi decided to return to France to
further his studies. Travelling with the support of his family, he attempted
to join L’Ecole des Langues Orientales (The School of Oriental Languages)
in Paris. But, and despite the ease of the entrance examination, he was
turned down. This, Bennabi soon realised, was because he was an Algerian
Muslim; it had nothing to do with his intelligence. Moreover, this initial
setback proved to be a blessing in disguise: because of it, Bennabi enrolled
in engineering instead, where he learnt the principles of scientific reasoning
that would eventually become invaluable in his pursuit of Islamic reform.8
During his undergraduate years, Bennabi joined several organisations,
including the Parisian Chapter of the Christian Youth Organisation
(which provided him with cheap meals). Bennabi’s association with this
Christian movement helped develop his spirituality and keen sense of
social analysis. Ultimately, however, iṣlāḥ maintained its influence over
him, inspiring him to champion a position similar to that of Jamāl al-
Dīn al-Afghānī (d.1897) and Muḥammad ‘Abduh (d.1905). He sought to
root out the reasons behind the backwardness of the Ummah and suggest
integrated and effective solutions. At the same time, he became very
sceptical of Algeria’s leading reformist movement, the Jami’yat al-‘ulamā’
(Association of the Ulama), established in 1931 by ‘Abd al-Ḥamīd ibn
Bādis (d.1940). In particular, Bennabi condemned a visit by Ibn Bādis and
a group of ulama to Paris during the 1930s, criticising them for lodging
in an expensive hotel while not doing enough to support the suffering
of ordinary Algerians. For his part, Bennabi swore never to return to his
country again until it had gained its independence; he was “disappointed
with the attitude of his people for not using systematic strategy in their
struggle and to change the society and culture from within.”9
After World War II (1939-1945), Bennabi wrote several books,
MALEK BENNABI 291
including Le Phenomene Coranique (The Qur’anic Phenomenon, 1946),

Les Conditions de la Renaissance (The Conditions of a Renaissance, 1948)
and La Vocation de l’Islam (The Vocation of Islam, 1954). All concerned
with iṣlāḥ-themed topics, these writings were not welcomed by either
Algeria’s traditional ulama or its nationalists. Although frustrated by this
lack of acceptance, Bennabi continued to express his views via lectures
in both Arabic and French. Then, in 1956, he migrated to Egypt, where
he received far more support from the Egyptian authorities. While there,
and despite his earlier admiration for the Ikhwān al-Muslimūn (Muslim
Brotherhood) movement of Ḥasan al-Bannā (d.1949), Bannabi showed
no sympathy for their suppression under Jamal Abdel Nasser (d.1970).10
In 1963, a year after Algeria gained its independence, Bennabi returned
to his homeland. By 1965, however, his efforts to promote intellectual
discourse in Algeria had led to difficulties with the authorities. The Algerian
government banned him from leaving the country and tried to control his
movements. Only in 1971 was he again allowed to leave Algeria, this time
for the pilgrimage to Makkah. Going with his wife and three daughters,
he took this opportunity to visit Egypt, Syria, Lebanon, Libya and Tunisia,
where he met with his many friends. In Lebanon, he granted his friend,
Omar Masqawi, full authority over his twenty-four books in the event of
his death. While in Saudi Arabia, he met with King Faisal, with whom he
shared his frustrations about the lack of freedom in Algeria.11
Two years after returning from Makkah, Bennabi passed away on 31
October 1975, at his home in Algeria. He was sixty-eight.12
Bennabi’s Thoughts on Civilisation

Despite his background in engineering, all of Bennabi’s books relate to
social science, culture, history and civilisation. In the last of these areas,
Bennabi was greatly influenced by Ibn Khaldūn’s Muqaddima. Like Ibn
Khaldūn, Bennabi related the development and maturity of civilisations to
the individuals who inhabited them. Thus, in his Theory of the Three Ages,
Bennabi argued that all individuals go through a three-stage development.
The first of these is ‘The Age of Objects’, an infantile period during which
individuals can not identify anything except their mother and only learn
about new things by putting them into their mouths. Next comes ‘The
Age of People’, a kind of ‘adolescence’ in which individuals develop greater
social and emotional connections with each other. During this stage, an
individual’s mental and social behaviour is shaped by the norms and social
values of the people around them. Turning to the final stage, Bennabi
called this ‘The Age of Ideas’ and equated it with the age of maturity, when
individuals slowly begin to appreciate conceptual abstracts.13
Based on these three stages of human development, Bennabi identified
three categories of human civilisation: (1) the pre-civilised nation; (2) the
civilised nation; and (3) the post-civilised nation.The pre-civilised nation
is primitive by nature, equivalent to the jahiliyya nation of pre-Islamic
Arabia. The people inhabiting this type of civilisation believe only in
the things surrounding them (like idols) and strongly support nomadic
ways of life. By contrast, a civilised nation is settled and, through the rise
of complex ethical systems like Islam, develop a new holistic individual
character. The post-civilised nation, on the other hand, faces decline as a
result of a stagnation of ideas. It suffers from a loss of genuine structure,
becoming more focused on materialistic matters, while leaving the
mundane to unqualified people.14
Bennabi argued that “the problem of any people is that of its civilisation.
Therefore, any attempt to solve the people’s problem should focus on its
civilisation.” All of the problems currently burdening the Muslim Ummah,
he said, were historically contingent and had resulted in a severe deficiency
in Muslim culture.15 To resolve this decline, Bennabi proposed three
possible approaches: (1) reformist; (2) modernist; and (3) an analytical
civilisational approach.16
Amongst the so-called reformists, Bennabi grouped intellectual leaders
like Arslan, al-Kawākibī and Ahmad Riza. According to Bennabi, their
work had fallen short by concerning itself only with self-defence and self-
justification, not with how to transform the immediate social condition of
the Ummah. They did not engage intellectually, culturally or psychologically
with the real causes of their community’s decay. Furthermore, they were
more interested in developing theories than actual practices, even though
(in Bennabi’s opinion) “actions speak louder than words.”17
In the modernist camp, Bennabi admired the aforementioned ‘Abduh
and al-Afghānī. He argued, however, that they had spent too much time
criticising external enemies and not enough considering the internal causes
of Islam’s disintegration. Likewise, Bennabi argued that ‘Abduh’s Risalāt
al-tawḥīd spent too much time trying to convince Muslims of Islam’s
superiority and not enough trying to reform the Ummah. According
to Bennabi, “the problem [is] not how to prove God’s existence to the
Muslims but how to make them sense that His existence fills up their souls
as a source of energy.”18
According to Bennabi, the renewal of Islamic civilisation need not
mean the blind imitation of Western culture. Rather, Muslims should
MALEK BENNABI 293
interact with the West only in order to discover its ‘spirit’, which they
can then harness in order to rebuild Islam. Unfortunately, however,
the majority of Muslims visiting the West tend to imitate rather than
understand, thereby obtaining only a very superficial view of the West and
what makes it successful. According to Bennabi, civilisation is “a result of a
living dynamic idea which mobilises a pre-civilised nation to build history
and construct a system of ideas according to its archetypes. As a result, the
society thereafter develops an authentic cultural milieu which in return
controls all the characteristics that distinguished that society from other
cultures.” It is this “living dynamic idea” that Muslims need to capture.
This is Bennabi’s analytical civilisational approach.19
Humanity, Soil and Time
According to Bennabi, the beginning of civilisation is tied to three key
‘elements’: humanity (insān), soil (turāb) and time (waqt). Of these,
Bennabi argued that humanity is the most significant because “man is the
major factor of civilisation, the primary society device. If he moves, society
and history move. But if he pauses, society and history pause. Human
being[s are] the constructor and product of civilisation simply because
they are indebted to it for the ideas and objects as its disposal. Thus, the
great challenge face[d] by the Muslims in this context is to create other
people…capable of utilising soils, time and their creativity to reach the
great goals in history.”20
Concerning the other two ‘elements’, namely soil and time, Bennabi
was quite careful when choosing his terminology. Regarding ‘soil’, for
example, he argued that this word had a broader meaning than merely
‘raw material’. For Bennabi, ‘soil’ meant land, the main source of man’s
food and nourishment. All human civilisations, he noted, began with
agriculture and the utilisation of natural resources. This made soil
essential to humanity’s needs. Indeed, from an Islamic perspective, soil
can be regarded as the ‘entire earth’, created by Allah for the benefit of
humankind. Because of this, Bennabi carefully selected the word turāb
for ‘soil’, rather than madda (substance or matter). This was because he
felt the former alone indicated ownership, control and security while also
suggesting a love of country.21
As for time, Bennabi considered this to be the ‘guide’ behind planning
and productivity. Every civilisation, he argued, grows over time. We should
not merely use time for the sake of performing a task, but utilise it in order
to measure our progress, aiming to do things in the shortest possible time
to thereby enhance our progress.22
Nevertheless, Bennabi stressed that “Human[ity], Soil and Time cannot

by themselves create civilisation. They need religion or spiritual ideas as
a catalyst to make the equation function properly. It is the religion that
stimulates the spirit to elevate society above its stagnation. Thus, religion
is the prerequisite for all civilisations.”23
The Renewal of Muslim Culture

To bring about cultural renewal, Bennabi emphasised two important
actions: (1) the eradication of ‘negative culture’, as that which causes
backwardness; and (2) the construction and nourishment of ‘positive
culture’, as that capable of reviving Muslim civilisation.24
From the social science perspective, culture contains two important
components, the material and the non-material. For Bennabi, the non-
material is the more important because it can potentially last forever.
The re-development of Muslim culture must therefore begin with the
examination and filtering of non-material Muslim ideas. This will allow
for the removal of anything ‘negative’ in favour of only the ‘positive’. This
filtering process is crucial for the eradication of harmful ideas capable of
damaging the Muslim Ummah. In particular, Bennabi stressed that, in
order to avoid backwardness, conflict must be eliminated. In his book,
Wijhat al-‘ālam al-Islāmī, he suggested that the never-ending conflict
between reformists and modernists will only harm the Ummah in the long
run.25
For Bennabi, the backwardness of the Muslim Ummah originated
in the realm of ideas, where the production of knowledge had become
inappropriate and irrelevant. Notably, the existence of an ‘anti-knowledge’
or an ‘anti-intellectual’ mindset amongst Muslims had resulted in
hedonism, materialism and foolishness. This mindset, he said, must be
overcome.26
Muslims, Bennabi held, should adhere to the path of cultural
purification. Although not an easy task, Muslims must try and transform
the social, political and economic landscape of the Islamic world. This
approach, combining aspects of history, sociology and scientific method,
comprehensively analysed the events surrounding the present malaise of
the Muslim community.27 For this reason, and although he passed away
more than four decades ago, Bennabi’s ideas remain fresh and relevant.
MALEK BENNABI 295
Notes:
1. Muhammad Tahir al-Mesawi, The Problem of Ideas in the Muslim World, trans.
Mohamed T. el-Mesawi, (Petaling Jaya: Budaya Ilmu Sdn. Bhd., 1994), xiii.
2. Alwi Alatas, ‘Malik Bennabi on Civilisation,’ The Hoggar Institute. Available
at: http://www.hoggar.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&
id=1021:malik-bennabi-on-civilization-alwi-alatas&Itemid=36. (Accessed
on: 7 October 2016).
3. Ibid.
4. Ibid.
5. Ibid.
6. Ibid.
7. Ibid.
8. Ali al-Quraisyiy, Malik Bin Nabi dan Pergolakan Sosial, vol. 1 (Kuala Lumpur:
Yayasan Dakwah Islamiah Malaysia, 1996), 18-28.
9. Alwi Alatas, ‘Malik Bennabi on Civilisation.’
10. Ibid.
11. Ibid.
12. Ibid.
13. Meinhaj Hussain, ‘Thoughts on Malek Bennabi: Have Muslims Returned
to Jahiliyyah?’ Grande Strategy. Available at: http://www.grandestrategy.
com/2011/02/thoughts-on-malek-bennabi-have-muslims.html. (Accessed
on 7 October 2016).
14. Ibid; Wan Fariza Alyati Wan Zakaria, ‘Malik Bennabi, Dinamisme Tamadun
dan Cabaran Globalosasi Era Pasca Kolonial,’ in Islam di Era Globalisasi, ed.
Jaffary Awang and Jawiah Dakir (Bangi: Fakulti Pengajian Islam, Universiti
Kebangsaan Malaysia, 2009), 4-6.
15. Fawzia Bariun, Malik Bennabi: His Life and Theory of Civilisation (Kuala
Lumpur: Muslim Youth Movement of Malaysia, 1993), 123-4.
16. Wan Zakaria, ‘Malik Bennabi, Dinamisme Tamaduan,’ 5.
17. Alwi Alatas, ‘Malik Bennabi on Civilisation’; Bariun, Malik Bennabi: His Life
and Theory, 123-4.
18. Alwi Alatas, ‘Malik Bennabi on Civilisation’; Bariun, Malik Bennabi: His Life
and Theory, 123-4.
19. Alwi Alatas, ‘Malik Bennabi on Civilisation’; Wan Zakaria, ‘Malik Bennabi,
Dinamisme Tamaduan.’ 8; Malik Bennabi, Islam dalam Sejarah dan
Masyarakat (Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1991), 10.
20. Wan Zakaria, ‘Malik Bennabi, Dinamisme Tamaduan,’ 9.
21. Ibid, 9.
22. Ibid, 9.
23. Ibid, 9.
24. Ibid, 10.
25. Ibid, 10.
26. Ibid, 10.
27. Ibid, 10.
Further Reading
Abu Sulayman, Abdul Hamid Ahmad. Crisis in the Muslim Mind. Herndon, VA:
International Institute of Islamic Thought, 1993.
Alatas, Alwi. ‘Malik Bennabi on Civilisation.’ The Hoggar Institute.

Available at: http://www.hoggar.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=artic
le&id=1021:malik-bennabi-on-civilization-alwi-alatas&Itemid=36.
Bariun, Fawzia. Malik Bennabi: His Life and Theory of Civilisation. Kuala Lumpur:
Muslim Youth Movement of Malaysia (ABIM), 1993.
Bennabi, Malik. Islam dalam Sejarah dan Masyarakat. Kuala Lumpur: Dewan
Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1991.
____________. Islam in History and Society. Translated by Asma Rashid.

Islamabad: Islamic Research Institute, 1994.
____________. On the Origins of Human Society. Translated by Mohamed Tahir

El-Musawi. Kuala Lumpur: The Open Press, 1998.
____________. The Problem of Ideas in the Muslim World. Translated by Mohamed

T. el-Mesawi. Petaling Jaya: Budaya Ilmu Sdn. Bhd., 1994.
____________. The Question of Culture. Kuala Lumpur: Islamic Book Trust,

2003.
‘Malek Bennabi sur la crise de civilisation du Arabo-Musulman.’ Laseptiemewilaya.

Available at: https://laseptiemewilaya.wordpress.com/category/malek-bennabi.
Berghout, Abdulaziz. ‘The Concept of Culture and Cultural Transformation:

Views of Malik Bennabi.’ Intellectual Discourse 9, no. 1 (2001): 67-83.
Hussain, Meinhaj. ‘Thoughts on Malek Bennabi: Have Muslims Returned

to Jahiliyyah?’ Grande Strategy. Available at: http://www.grandestrategy.
com/2011/02/thoughts-on-malek-bennabi-have-muslims.html.
Wan Zakaria, Wan Fariza. ‘Malik Bennabi, Dinamisme Tamadun dan Cabaran
Globalosasi Era Pasca Kolonial.’ In Islam di Era Globalisasi, edited by Jaffary
Awang and Jawiah Dakir. Bangi: Fakulti Pengajian Islam, Universiti Kebangsaan
Malaysia, 2009.
39
Muḥammad Abū Zahra1
(1898-1974CE)
Mohammad Hashim Kamali
Abū Zahra was one of the twentieth century’s leading ulama, a man who
left behind a distinctive legacy of scholarship that, both during his lifetime
and after, gained him international acclaim.
Life
Born on 19 March 1898, Muhammad . b. Ahmad
. b. Mustafā
.. b. Ahmad,
.
better known as Abū Zahra, wrote over thirty-four books and one hundred
other works on Islamic law and jurisprudence, Qur’anic commentary,
theology, hadith studies, law and society, and Arabic literature. He
was born and brought up in al-Mahalla al-Kubra, a provincial capital
in Lower Egypt, to a respectable religious family. His early education
started at al-Raqiyya school, where he studied modern science subjects
alongside religion and Arabic. In 1913, he continued his studies at the
College of al-Ahmadī
. al-Azharī, part of the famous Ahmadī
. Mosque in
Tanta. Later, in 1916, he entered Egypt’s Judicial Studies School, which
only took exceptionally talented students. Established in 1907, this school
was designed to train judges and equip them with the practical skills and
qualifications necessary to take up appointments as Sharia court judges in
Egypt. Abū Zahra’s keen intelligence and interest in Sharia enabled him
to excel in the entry examinations for this school, wherein he became a
top student. But, although he successfully graduated in 1923, he did not
take up a judicial post. Rather, his career path would develop along more
academic lines: following his graduation, he joined the Muḥammad ‘Atif
Barkāt Madrasa for Sharia studies, graduating from there with a degree in
1924. He then obtained a second degree in the same field in 1927 from
the Dār al-‘Ulum of Tanta. He then taught at the same institute for a year
(1927-1928) before moving to Cairo.
In Cairo, Abū Zahra first taught Arabic at a secondary school before

later securing a faculty position in the Law School at Cairo University.
There he taught Arabic and comparative religion, while also writing his first
book on uṣūl al-khiṭāba (principles of rhetoric). Then, in 1933, he joined
the Faculty of Usūl
. al-Dīn at al-Azhar, later moving to the Law Faculty
of the same university. Whereas the first of these faculties specialised in
Islamic theology and thought, the second covered modern and civil law
subjects. Abū Zahra’s main interest, however, remained Sharia. During
this period, he encountered and studied under such renowned scholars
as ‘Abdul Wahāb Khallāf, Shaykh ‘Alī al-Khafīf, and ‘Abdul ‘Azīz al-Khūlī.
He also published numerous texts, including Tārīkh al-jadal (History of
Argumentation and Debate), Diyānāt al-qadīma (Ancient Religions) and
Muḥāḍarāt fī nasraniyya (Lectures in Christianity).
By the end of his teaching career, Abū Zahra was head of the Islamic
Law Department and Professor of Sharia at al-Azhar. After retiring from
teaching, he served as Deputy Dean of the al-Azhar Law Faculty until
1958. In 1962, he became a member of the prestigious Islamic Research
Academy (Majma‘ al-Buḥūth al-Islāmiyya) at al-Azhar, a position he
retained until his death at age 76, on Friday 12 April 1974. He died at his
home in Zaitun, while engaged in writing the final sections of his multi-
volume Qur’anic commentary, then being serialised in Majalla Liwā‘ al-
Islām. He had earlier published a book, al-Mu’jizat al-Kubra al-Qur’ān
(Great Miracles of the Qur’an), which was a precursor to this commentary.
Abū Zahra was tall, endowed with a commanding voice and a retentive
memory. He often lectured and delivered speeches without using notes.
His colleagues and students described him as an affectionate family man
who was close to his wife, sons and daughters, and who was a fatherly figure
to his students. He is also remembered for the intensity of his discourse,
for his forthright character, his independence of thought, and for keeping
his distance from men of power and influence. These traits reflected
themselves throughout his adult life in a determination to stand up for
what he believed in, sometimes against powerful opposition.2 He was easily
amused and easily stirred to anger, taking issue with those who opposed
him. Shaykh ‘Abdul Halīm Maḥmūd (d.1978), the former Shaykh of al-
Azhar, said that, whenever there was a problem at the Research Academy,
Muḥammad Abū Zahra would be consulted and his fatwa solicited on the
matter. He had definitive views and stood firm, including on issues such
as the ban on usury, which he thought was necessary to protect the welfare
of Muslims.
MUḤAMMAD ABŪ ZAHRA 299
His Work and Its Significance

Most of Abū Zahra’s work in the discipline of Sharia – including in
uṣūl al-fiqh, contracts and obligations, crime and punishment, religious
endowments (waqf), inheritance, and international law – took the form of
textbooks. Nevertheless, they include some of his own views on important
topics. Moreover, he wrote extensively on comparative religion, gave
fatwas and wrote research papers for academic journals and the media. His
output in these areas also neatly summerise his thought on key issues. For
example, his fatwas on gender issues tend to vacillate between egalitarian
and conservative positions; although he took a strongly negative view of
family planning, he argued that it was permissible for a woman to work
outside the home with the permission of her husband. Politically, he
denounced despotism in favour of consultative and democratic governance
under the rule of law. He criticised President Jamal ‘Abd al-Nasser (d.1970)
for his harsh treatment of the Muslim Brotherhood, after which he was
placed under police surveillance, damaging his professional career and
personal life. He also criticised President Gadhafi (d.2011) of Libya for
his derogation of the authority of hadith and advised President Anwar
al-Sadat (d.1981) to put an end to his wife, Jihan Sadat’s, interference in
politics. He called for codification and enforcement of the Sharia, but also
urged a revival of unfettered ijtihād (independent legal reasoning) guided
by the original teachings of the Qur’an and authentic hadith.
Abū Zahra was a traditional ‘ālim (scholar) who focused on the Qur’an
and moved abreast of existing interpretations of Sharia. A clarity of style
and encyclopedic knowledge, combined with a degree of conciseness,
distinguished his works, many of which became widely known throughout
the Muslim world. Abū Zahra was particularly concerned about the cultural
revival of Islam, which he advised should begin with adherence to three core
principles and teachings of the Qur’an and Sunna: promotion of good and
prevention of evil (al-amr bi’l ma‘rūf wa nahy ‘an al-munkar), humility and
moderation (al-hayā’), and concealment of immorality coupled with exposure
and declaration of virtuous conduct (satr al-radhā’ il wa kashf al-faḍā’il).
His persistent concern with Islamic revival was also demonstrated by
his involvement in the production of biographies dealing with the leading
figures of Islamic jurisprudence. He wrote no less than eight voluminous
books on the eight leading Imams, namely Abū Ḥanīfa (d.150AH/767CE),
Mālik ibn Anas (d.179/795), Muḥammad ibn Idrīs al-Shāfi‘ī (d.205/819),
Aḥmad ibn Muḥammad ibn Ḥanbal (d.241/855), Ibn Ḥazm al-Zāhirī
(d.270/884), Taqī al-Dīn Aḥmad ibn Taymiyyah (d.728/1328), and the
two Shi‘i Imams, Zayd b. ‘Alī Zayn al-‘Ābīdin (d.120/737) and Abū ‘Abd
Allāh Ja‘afar al-Ṣādiq (d.148/765). His decision to include the last two
is indicative of an admirable originality, as one hardly finds a prominent
Sunni scholar who is prepared to devote two voluminous works to leading
Shi‘a figures.
Ultimately, his biographical works were comprehensive, providing
useful expositions of the doctrines and teachings of their subjects. Abū
Zahra remained cognizant of the inordinately rich legacy these towering
figures left behind them. He used dignified and reverential language in
the exposition of their views and doctrines, even when he noted a degree
of weakness in their arguments. On such occasions, he often tried to
find a plausible explanation for the observed weakness by referring to
the historical settings and/or conditions of the scholar that might have
invoked a defective view and/or response.
Abū Zahra often recorded his appreciation for the sincerity of the
learned Imams. With reference to Imam Mālik, for instance, he noted that
the Imam admitted on scores of occasions that he did not know the answer
to certain questions. Abū Zahra also considered Mālikī jurisprudence to
be the most versatile of all the leading schools of Islamic jurisprudence,
particularly in its recognition of virtually all the proofs and sources of
Sharia, including those others have disagreed about.3
Abū Zahra was appreciative of the strong stand al-Shāfi‘ī took in support
of the Sunna, vindicating its authority as the second most authoritative
source of Sharia after the Qur’an. In this regard, he drew attention to a
somewhat similar situation in modern times, whereby questionable factions
and groups (like the Lahore-based Jama‘at al-Qur’an, and its equivalents in
Egypt, Libya and elsewhere) have recognised the Qur’an as the only valid
source of Sharia, to the exclusion of all else. To this Abū Zahra responded
that, “would we have another Shāfi’ī and a robust campaigner to set the
priorities right again.”4
In his magnum opus, Tārīkh al-madhāhib al-Islāmiyya (A History of the
Islamic Law Schools), which runs to over 700 pages, Abū Zahra devoted
a chapter to the newly emerging madhhabs, including the Wahhābī, the
Bahā’ī, and the Qādiyānī. Although particularly critical of the last two –
even saying that some of their beliefs were downright un-Islamic – I shall
not discuss them here. Rather, I shall focus on his important critique of
the Wahhābī.
Abū Zahra began his account of the Wahhābī by emphasising their
origin in the Arabian Desert. The Arabs of that region, he pointed out,
had always tended to indulge in personality cults, sanctifying prominent
individuals and building shrines in their honour. In that context, Abū

Zahra found it unsurprising that the Wahhābī had decided to revive the
teachings of the key Ḥanbalī scholar, Ibn Taymiyyah (d.1328), in order to
counter these pernicious innovations (bid’a). The founder of the Wahhābī
movement, Muḥammad ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhāb (d.1786), had studied Ibn
Taymiyyah’s works in depth and had decided to make them the basis of
his reform agenda. Although Muḥammad ‘Abd al-Wahhāb did not add
anything new to Ibn Taymiyyah’s views, Abū Zahra pointed out how he
exaggerated the practice of those views. He described how:
1. The Wahhābī exceeded the limits of moderation with regard to
certain aspects of worship in Islam, and in ways not stipulated by
either the Qur’an, the Sunna, or the works of Ibn Taymiyyah. For
instance, they treated customary matters and usages (‘ādāt) as if
they were part of the religion, seeking to make them binding on all
Muslims. Thus, they declared cigarette smoking forbidden (ḥarām),
exaggerating this ruling to the point that commoners amongst them
considered the smoker to be a mushrik (infidel). As a result, they
resembled the Khawārij seceders, who declared apostate whoever
committed a sin.
2. In the beginning, the Wahhābī also declared coffee (and whatever
resembled it) forbidden, although they later became more lenient
in this regard.5
3. The Wahhābī did not restrict themselves to just giving advice and
inviting people to what they saw as right. Rather, they also resorted
to warmongering, threatening all who disagreed with them. This
was wrongly justified with reference to the Qur’anic injunction
to command good and forbid evil – this was mistakenly seen as
justification for declaring all innovation an evil that must be
fought militarily. Muḥammad ibn Sa‘ūd, the ancestor of the ruling
Sa‘ūdī family in the Arabian Peninsular, and brother-in-law to
Muḥammad ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhāb, became their leader in this regard.
After embracing the madhhab, Muḥammad ibn Sa‘ūd argued that
it should be defended by force of arms. He announced that he was
doing this to uphold the Sunna and eradicate innovation.
4. When the Wahhābī were able to seize a town or city, they would
demolish its tombs, turning them into ruins and destroying
whatever other structures (including mosques) they found in the
vicinity. They exaggerated their claims that the people had turned
these tombs into places of worship, wrongly justifying their actions
by quoting the authority of a hadith wherein the Prophet denounced

those amongst the Children of Israel who turned the tombs of their
prophets into temples.6
5. Wahhābī tomb destruction did not stop with the above: when the
ruler of the Hijaz surrendered to them, they also destroyed the
graves of the Companions, razing them to the ground and only
allowing visitors/pilgrims to say “Assalamu Alaykum” when paying
their respects.
6. The Wahhābī continually focused on small matters (such as
photography), condemning them altogether, despite the fact that
they had nothing to do with idolatry or anything which leads to
idolatry. This approach appeared throughout the fatwas and epistles
of their ulama – although their political leaders often ignored such
fatwas.
7. The Wahhābī expanded the meaning of innovation in peculiar ways,
to the point of claiming that draping the walls of the Prophet's
grave and chamber in Madinah was innovation. Hence they forbade
the renewal of the drapes that were found there, until they fell in
tatters and became unsightly. Additionally, some amongst them
also considered the Muslim expression “our Master Muhammad”
(sayyidina Muḥammad) impermissible.
8. They indulged in ugly and objectionable language, until most
people denounced them.
Ultimately, Abū Zahra concluded that the Wahhābī, while actualising
the opinions of Ibn Taymiyyah, had become extremely zealous in their
pursuit of those views. In particular, they expatiated the meaning of
innovation: as Abū Zahra noted, Islam has traditionally considered
worship to be the principal context of innovation, while the Wahhābī
construed it to mean any variation from Sunna, in any sphere of life.
Abū Zahra also observed how the Wahhābī considered themselves to
be the only true Salafī/revivalists. Indeed, leading Wahhābī ulama have
even gone so far as to consider their opinions the only sound ones, with
no possibility of them being incorrect. In this respect, they resemble the
Khawārij, who declared those who dissented from them apostates to be
fought against. Thus, although the Wahhābī’s strict form of Islam may
have been a relatively harmless matter while it remained cloistered in the
desert, it became far more serious when it spread to the towns and cities of
Arabia under the Sa‘ūd family. From that point on, it became necessary to
take action against such views.7
Abū Zahra left an impressive legacy, characterised by a high intellectual

calibre and dedication to noble objectives. He was a man of principle, who
always acted on what he taught. His colleagues, students and those familiar
with his work remember him with great admiration and respect. Being
a specialist in Sharia, I have also personally benefited from his inspiring
contributions to a balanced understanding of the discipline.
Notes
1. This is a revised and enlarged version of my article, ‘Abu Zahra, Muhammad,’
in the Encyclopedia of Islam, vol. 3 (2008), 28-30.
2. Adil Salahi, ed., ‘Scholar of Renown: Muhammad Abu Zahrah,’ Arab
News, 14 November 2001. Available at: www.arabnews.com/node/216148.
(Accessed on: 26/07/2015).
3. Cf. Muhammad
. Abū Zahrah, Mālik: Hayātuh wa ‘asruh, ‘ārā’uh wa fiqhuh,
2nd ed. (al-Qāhirah: Dār al-Fikr al-‘Arabī, 1952), 376.
4. Muhammad
. Abū Zahrah, Tārīkh al-Madhāhib al-Islāmiyyah (al-Qāhirah:
Dār al-Fikr al-‘Arabī, n.d.), 465.
5. Ibid, 212.
6. Ibid., 213. See also Jibril Haddad, ‘Wahhabism: Imam Muhammad Abu
Zahrah Explains,’ Sunnah.org. Available at: http://www.sunnah.org/history/
Wahabism_explained_Imam_Abu_Zahra.htm. (Accessed on: 26/07/2015).
7. Abū Zahrah, Tārīkh al-Madhāhib, 214. See also Aḥmad Tamīm, ‘Abū Zahrah:
‘Ālam Yu‘raf Qadruh (Abū Zahrah: The world recognises his stature),’ Islam
Online. Available at: islamonline.net/Arabic/history/1422/01/article20a.
shtml. (Accessed on: 26/07/2015).
Further Reading
Abū Zahra, Muhammad.
. Mālik: Hayātuh wa ‘asruh, ‘ārā’uh wa fiqhuh, 2nd edition.
Al-Qāhira: Dār al-Fikr al-‘Arabī, 1952.
___________________. Tārīkh al-Madhāhib al-Islāmiyya. Al-Qāhirah: Dār al-

Fikr al-‘Arabī, n.d.
Haddad, Jibril. ‘Wahhabism: Imam Muhammad Abu Zahrah Explains,’ Sunnah.

org. Available at: http://www.sunnah.org/history/Wahabism_explained_
Imam_Abu_Zahra.htm.
Salahi, Adil, ed. ‘Scholar of Renown: Muhammad Abu Zahrah.’ Arab News, 14
November 2001. Available at: www.arabnews.com/node/216148.
Tamīm, Aḥmad. ‘Abū Zahra: ‘Ālam Yu‘raf Qadruh (Abū Zahra: The world
recognises his stature).’ Islam Online. Available at: islamonline.net/Arabic/
history/1422/01/article20a.shtml.
40
‘Ali Shariati
(1933-1977CE)
Alexander Wain
[I aim] to wage an emancipatory cultural and intellectual struggle

to save human freedom from the barren wastelands of capitalism and
class exploitation, equality and justice from the violent and pharaonic
dictatorship of Marxism, and God from the ghastly and gloomy
graveyard of clericalism.1
‘Ali Shariati
Ali Shariati was born on 23 November 1933 in the village of Kahak, a

suburb of Sabzevar, a city in Iran’s eastern Khurasan province.2 The eldest
child of Mohammad-Taqi (Mazinani) Shariati (d.1987), a religious scholar
from the nearby village of Mazinan, and a woman from Kahak called
Zahra, by the end of his life Shariati would be widely recognised as one
of twentieth-century Iran’s greatest intellectuals and (at least for some) a
pivotal figure behind the 1979 Islamic Revolution.3
Shariati’s religious education began at home; later in life, he would
frequently speak very highly of his mother and her intense religious
devotion, attributing his own mystical sensibilities to her influence.4 His
propensity for scientific enquiry and logical thought, however, came from
his father. On his father’s side, Shariati was descended from a long line of
religious scholars, some of whom had risen to considerable prominence.5
His grandfather, for example, Akhond Molla Qorban-Ali (or Akhond
Hakim), had studied at the prestigious Shi’i institutions in Bukhara,
Najaf and Mashhad, before eventually settling in rural Mazinan. There
Akhond Hakim had become a teacher at a local school built at his request,
and where Mohammad-Taqi later succeeded him. But while Akhond
Hakim was a very traditional Islamic scholar, Mohammad-Taqi adopted
‘ALI SHARIATI 305
a Westernised approach to education.6 This modernising attitude would

ultimately imprint itself very strongly on Shariati, making it worthy of
brief explanation.
Mohammad-Taqi’s Westernised approach to education – encompassing
everything from the use of Western teaching methods to the wearing of
Western clothing – was not intended as a challenge to traditional values,
but rather as a means of attracting an increasingly secular youth who were
otherwise becoming estranged from Islam. Thus, 1941 saw the foundation
of Iran’s official communist organisation, the Tudeh Party. Quickly gaining
influence throughout Iran’s schools, the Tudeh Party attracted many young
minds to its secular cause by presenting communism (as opposed to Islam)
as the only means of attaining true social justice – a primary concern for
many young Iranians during this period. The secular nature of this message
greatly concerned Mohammad-Taqi; also in 1941, he moved to Mashhad
(the capital of Khorasan province) and dedicated himself to defending
Islam against the Tudeh Party’s secular onslaught. Through his teaching,
he sought to present a modernised version of Islam capable of meeting
contemporary needs. Sharing the Tudeh Party’s concern for social justice,
Mohammad-Taqi tried to reconcile this concept with Islam, to show that
the latter (and not communism) was actually the great political, social and
economic leveller. In 1947, Mohammad-Taqi’s efforts culminated in the
foundation of the ‘Centre for the Propagation of Islamic Truths’ (Kanun-e
Nashr-e Haqayeq-e Eslami) in Mashhad. Intended to project Mohammad-
Taqi’s modernised version of Islam, this institute became well known
locally. Attended by Shariati, it helped shape his views on Islam. Funded
almost entirely by Mohammad-Taqi himself, however, it also ensured that
Shariati grew up in an impoverished household.7
Against this back drop, Shariati’s formal education began in 1941, at
one of Mashhad’s prestigious private primary schools, Ibn Yamin, where
Mohammad-Taqi had recently been appointed Director of Studies.8
Leaving Ibn Yamin in 1947, Shariati went on to the Ferdowsi High School
(also in Mashhad), where his father taught Arabic literature.9 Just three
years later, and before completing his high school certificate, Shariati
sat the entrance exam for the local Teacher’s Training College (where
Mohammad-Taqi was also teaching Arabic and Islamic studies). Shariati
appears to have taken this step at the behest of his father, who desired him
to continue in the family’s scholarly tradition. Mohammad-Taqi’s financial
difficulties, however, may also have played a part: while at the college,
Shariati would receive a monthly allowance and have his board paid for by
the government. But whatever his reason for applying, Shariati successfully
passed the college examination and began his teacher training during
the same year (1950).10 While at the college, he also became an active
member of the Popular (or Mosaddeqist) Movement, a political faction
aligned with the then Prime Minister, Mohammad Mosaddeq (in office
1950-3). This movement favoured extending Iran’s secular democracy and
resisting all foreign interference, particularly in the oil industry.11 Shariati’s
involvement in this movement brought him into frequent conflict with
those Tudeh Party members also operating in the college.12
In 1952, Shariati successfully graduated as a teacher, going on to
briefly teach at the Ketabpur primary school in Ahmadabad, a village near
Mashhad. He did not, however, enjoy his new career; by 1954, he had
decided to abandon school teaching altogether and go to university. In
the same year, therefore, Shariati completed his high school diploma (not
achieved at college) and obtained a high school certificate in literature.13
This allowed him to enter the University of Mashhad in 1956. By the time
he graduated in 1960, he knew what he wanted to do: teach at university.
In the same year, therefore, he travelled to France and entered the Sorbonne
(University of Paris) as a sociology student.14
It was at the Sorbonne that Shariati encountered a number of prominent
intellectuals who, building on the foundations laid by Mohammad-Taqi,
helped him define his view of Islam in the modern world. First amongst
these was the famous French Orientalist, Louis Massignon (d.1962).
While acting as Massignon’s research assistant, Shariati developed a deep
respect for this long-term Christian enthusiast for Islam. Indeed, Shariati
would later describe Massignon as his spiritual leader:
Had I not met him, what an impoverished spirit, mediocre mind
and stale vision would I have had.15
In particular, Massignon inspired in Shariati an intense compassion for
the poor and a belief in social justice. Under his guiding hand, Shariati came
to associate all three Abrahamic religions with sociopolitical mission.16 As
a mark of his respect for Massignon, Shariati dedicated his most famous
text, Fatimah Fatimah ast (Fatima is Fatima, 1971), to him.17
In addition to Massignon, Paris also introduced Shariati to the important
Marxist thinker, Max Gurvitch. Another lecturer at the Sorbonne, Gurvitch
taught Shariati about the importance of political activism. In Gurvitch’s
classes, Shariati learnt how to transform a religion into an ideology for
action.18 Even more important than Gurvitch, however, was Shariati’s brief
association with the pivotal post-colonial thinker, Frantz Fanon (d.1961),
author of The Wretched of the Earth (1961).
‘ALI SHARIATI 307
Frequently cited as the twentieth century’s most important post-colonial

thinker, Fanon sought to challenge Europe’s former colonies (or the ‘Third
World’, as Europeans called it) to discover and speak for themselves,
arguing that “the Third World must start over a new history of man.”19
Fanon saw colonialism as fundamentally dehumanising – not only did it
lead to the exploitation, oppression and repression of its colonial subjects
but, via a complex web of colonial identities (notably European-coloniser-
superior versus native-colonised-inferior), it degraded and subverted the
value of non-European civilisation. Additionally, Fanon deplored how,
through the post-colonial European training of ‘native’ officials and
intellectuals, Europe continued to ‘brand’ its culture onto the heads of the
formerly colonised and argue that only by imitating (superior) European
culture could (inferior) native culture become ‘modern’ (that is, truly
‘advanced’ or ‘developed’). Fanon rejected this argument as little more than
an imperial tool of cultural suppression and oppression. Modernity, he
argued, was not something Europe could claim a monopoly over. Rather,
he felt Europe’s time was over. Arguing that the continent was in terminal
decline, Fanon sought to intellectually divorce it from its former colonies
in order to encourage the latter to speak for themselves and, thereby, see
the feasibility of forging a new indigenous modernity (that is, the “new
history of man”).20 Shariati came to attach enormous importance to this
idea, even translating The Wretched of the Earth into Persian.21
Drawing on his Parisian experiences, Shariati returned to Iran in 1964
with a clear sense of mission: to turn Shiism into a political ideology for
social activism, thereby reintroducing religion into Iranian society and
creating an example of Fanon’s indigenous modernity. Upon returning to
his homeland, however, Shariati was immediately arrested and imprisoned,
charged with participating in forbidden political activities while still in
France.22 Nonetheless, upon his release in 1965, he immediately began
teaching sociology at Mashhad University. Very quickly gaining widespread
popularity amongst his students, his lectures consistently discussed the
problems of Iranian society in light of Islamic (i.e. indigenous) principles.23
Throughout the rest of the 1960s and into the 1970s, Shariati’s lectures
focused more and more on this advocacy of indigenous-based solutions to
Iran’s problems. Fusing Marxist and existentialist traditions with religious
nationalist discourse, Shariati advocated the advancement of Iranian
society on the basis of a radical restructuring and reform of the country’s
traditional cultural and religious institutions.24 This sat in sharp contrast to
Western thought, which continued to frame modernity as the sole product
of secular Western civilisation.25 Drawing on Fanon, Shariati argued that
an autonomous will based on freedom from colonial tyranny was the only
prerequisite for modernity – only by being free could Iran find appropriate
solutions to the challenges it faced. Most importantly, Shariati saw
autonomous will as a continuation of the core principles of monotheism –
principles not always followed, but always there. Consequently, although
Western secularism had universalised autonomous will, it did not own
it. Religion, Shariati argued, must take it back. In a society like Iran,
where religious norms prevailed, he believed sustainable change leading
to modernity could only be achieved through religious transformation.
Rather than a retrograde force, therefore, Shariati painted religion as a
harbinger of progressive social change.26
By demanding a ‘new thought’ and a ‘new humanity’ – in short, a
‘new modernity’ – Shariati was not only advocating a rejection of narrow
Western readings of the ‘modern’, but also advocating the reform of Islam.
In this regard, he stood enamoured of earlier Muslim reformers like Jamāl
al-Dīn al-Afghānī (d.1897) and Muhammad Iqbal (d.1938), who had seen
fit to critique both Western modernity and Islam. Their calls to reinstitute
ijtihād (independent legal reasoning) and reform Islam in line with modern
needs resounded with his own concerns.27 Shariati strongly opposed the
essentialist readings of Islam presented by Islamists like Pakistan’s Abul
A’la Mawdudi (d.1979), Egypt’s Sayyid Qutb (d.1966) and Iran’s own
Ayatollah Khomeini (d.1989). While they tended to attribute Muslim
decline to Western domination, arguing that the only viable solution was
the restoration of an earlier and more pristine form of Islam, for Shariati
the decay of Muslim society was as much a result of Islam’s obsolescence in
the face of modern realities as Western imperialism. For him, Islam must
also be reformed (as opposed to ‘reset’) if any progress was to be made.28
It is also worth noting that, and especially during the 1960s, Shariati’s
lectures and writings favoured violence against the state as a means of
provoking social transformation. Significantly, therefore, his lectures and
texts attracted the attention of numerous people who would later become
prominent figures in the 1979 insurrection against the Pahlavi regime.
His lectures provided these oppositional intellectuals with a language
of revolution. For this reason, Shariati has often been termed (although
not without controversy, see below) the architect of the 1979 Islamic
Revolution.29 At the very least, however, his radical message caused friction
with the Pahlavi authorities; by 1968, his Mashhad-based courses had been
discontinued. Not to be discouraged, however, Shariati promptly moved to
Tehran, where he took up a post at the religious institute, Houssein-e-Ershad.30
But there, too, his courses proved controversial, attracting the attention of
‘ALI SHARIATI 309
the authorities and ultimately resulting in the closure of Houssein-e-Ershad in

1972. The following year, Shariati was arrested and imprisoned.
Released in 1975, Shariati remained under close surveillance, forbidden
to either teach or publish.31 This period also saw him become more
quietist, rejecting violent change in favour of cultivating a revolutionary
sensibility capable of bringing about spontaneous transformation. This
shift in emphasis may have been the result of pressure from SAVAK
(or the ‘Organisation of Intelligence and National Security’, Iran’s pre-
revolutionary secret police agency).32 Certainly, by 1977 it was clear that
Shariati was unhappy with his situation in Iran; drawing inspiration from
the Prophet’s migration from Makkah to Madinah, he decided to leave.
Heading for the United Kingdom, he died there just three weeks later, on
19 June 1977, while in Southampton. Although the official cause of death
was filed as a heart attack, it has since been suggested that SAVAK played
a role in his sudden demise.33
In sum, Shariati was one of late twentieth-century Islam’s most
important intellectual figures. A bold ideologue, he sought to craft a new
type of modernity, one which refused to remain beholden to Western
norms, preferring instead to stand out as proudly and authentically
Islamic. Moreover, and as seen, many have argued that his work became
the backbone of the 1979 Islamic Revolution. Not all, however, agree with
this assessment: the collection of Iranian-based intellectuals known as
Neo-Shariatis, and who currently maintain Shariati’s legacy, have argued
that, far from being the ‘architect’ of the Islamic Revolution, Shariati
would have fundamentally opposed Khomeini and his aims. Pointing to
Shariati’s frequent critiques of Islamism’s cultural essentialism, along with
the accompanying implication that past identities are unsustainable, they
argue that Khomeini’s revolution opposes many of the core principles of
Shariati’s work. Where Shariati called for the development of a progressive
and independent conception of Islam suited to the modern world, Neo-
Shariatis see modern-day Iran as a reactionary throwback to a past age,
as much a product of Iran’s hegemonic condition as the Shah’s regime.
Likewise, although Shariati did not argue for a privatisation of religion
(as in the West), neither did he favour religious regulation of all aspects
of public and private life (as in contemporary Iran). For Shariati, religion
was only a source of inspiration – a means to a human end, not an end in
and of itself. For Khomeini, however, the Divine Will was the only end.
On this basis, Neo-Shariatis accuse Khomeini of undermining human
freedom – a principle Shariati (in common with Fanon) held dearest of
all.34
But, if this brings into question Shariati’s role in shaping the final
outcome of the 1979 Revolution, it nevertheless remains clear that his
work represents an important step forward in Islamic thought. Neo-
Shariatis still hope that, through their own efforts and those of other
interested Muslim ideologues, Shariati’s moderate and modernising stance
may yet come to bear on the Muslim world as a whole, to produce a truly
modern and Islamic society.
Notes
1. Cited in Siavash Saffari, ‘Rethinking the Islam/Modernity Binary: Ali Shariati
and Religiously Mediated Discourse of Sociopolitical Development,’ Middle
East Critique 24, no. 3 (2015): 244.
2. Mohammad Emani, ‘Louis Massignon and Ali Shariati: An Enigmatic
Encounter of Christianity and Islam,’ Religious Studies and Theology 30, no.
1 (2011): 101.
3. Ali Rahnema, An Islamic Utopian: A Political Biography of Ali Shariati
(London: I. B. Tauris, 2000), 11, 35.
4. Ibid, 35.
5. In addition to his grandfather, another of his forbearers, Allamah
Mahmanabadi, taught philosophy in Tehran at the bequest of the Qajari
ruler, Nasir al-Din Shah (r.1848-96), see Mehbi Abedi, ‘Ali Shariati: The
Architect of the 1979 Islamic Revolution of Iran,’ Iranian Studies 19, no. 3
(1986): 229.
6. Rahnema, Islamic Utopian, 11-12.
7. Ibid, 11-13.
8. Ibid, 36.
9. Ibid, 38-9.
10. Ibid,
11. Homa Katouzian, ‘Mosadeqq’s Government in Iranian History: Arbitrary
Rule, Democracy, and the 1953 Coup,’ in Mohammad Mosadeqq and the
1953 Coup in Iran, ed. Mark J. Gasiorowski and Malcolm Byrne (Syracuse,
NY: Syracuse University Press, 2004), 4-6.
13. Ibid, 41.
14. Emami, ‘Louis Massignon and Ali Shariati,’ 102.
15. Ibid, 102.
16. Ibid, 102.
17. Ali Shariati, ‘Fatima is Fatima,’ Al-Islam.org: Ahlul Bayt Digital Islamic Library
Project. Available at: http://www.al-islam.org/fatima-is-fatima-dr-ali-shariati.
(Accessed on: 28/03/2016).
18. Emani, ‘Louis Massignon and Ali Shariati,’ 103-4.
19. Frantz Fanon, The Wretched of the Earth, trans. Richard Philcox (New York:
Grove Press, 2004), 238.
20. Ibid.
21. Emani, ‘Louis Massignon and Ali Shariati,’ 104.
‘ALI SHARIATI 311
23. Ibid, 176-206

24. Arash Davari, ‘A Return to Which Self? ‘Ali Shariati and Frantz Fanon on
the Political Ethics of Insurrectionary Violence,’ Comparative Studies of South
Asia, Africa and the Middle East 34, no. 1 (2014): 86.
25. Saffari, ‘The Islam/Modernity Binary,’ 231-2.
26. Ibid, 238-9.
27. Ibid, 239-40.
28. Ibid, 236-7.
29. Davari, ‘Which Self?’ 86-7.
30. Rahnema, Islamic Utopian, 226.
31. Ibid, 330-349.
32. Davari, ‘Which Self?’ 87.
34. Saffari, ‘The Islam/Modernity Binary,’ 242-3.
Further Reading
Abedi, Mehbi. ‘Ali Shariati: The Architect of the 1979 Islamic Revolution of Iran.’
Iranian Studies 19, no. 3 (1986): 229-34.
Davari, Arash. ‘A Return to Which Self? ‘Ali Shariati and Franz Fanon on the
Political Ethics of Insurrectionary Violence.’ Comparative Studies of South Asia,
Africa and the Middle East 34, no. 1 (2014): 86-106.
Emani, Mohammad. ‘Louis Massignon and Ali Shariati: An Enigmatic Encounter

of Christianity and Islam.’ Religious Studies and Theology 30, no. 1 (2011):
101-5.
Fanon, Frantz. The Wretched of the Earth. Translated by Richard Philcox. New
York: Grove Press, 2004.
Katouzian, Homa. ‘Mosadeqq’s Government in Iranian History: Arbitrary Rule,

Democracy, and the 1953 Coup.’ In Mohammad Mosadeqq and the 1953 Coup
in Iran, edited by Mark J. Gasiorowski and Malcolm Byrne, 1-26. Syracuse,
NY: Syracuse University Press, 2004.
Rahnema, Ali. An Islamic Utopian: A Political Biography of Ali Shariati. London:

I. B. Tauris, 2000.
Saffari, Siavash. ‘Rethinking the Islam/Modernity Binary: Ali Shariati and

Religiosity Mediated Discourse of Sociopolitical Development.’ Middle East
Critique 24, no. 3 (2015): 231-250.
Shariati, Ali. ‘Fatima is Fatima.’ Al-Islam.org: Ahlul Bayt Digital Islamic Library
Project. Available at: http://www.al-islam.org/fatima-is-fatima-dr-ali-
shariati.
41
Sayyid Abul A’la al-Mawdudi
(1903-1979CE)
Wan Naim Wan Mansor
Of all the factors of social life which impinge on culture and morality,
the most powerful and effective is government…Hence the best way
of putting an end to the fitna [strife] and purifying of life of munkar
[evil] is to eliminate all mufsid [corrupt] governments and replace
them with those which in theory and practice are based on piety and
righteous action.
Mawdudi, Jihād fī al-Islām1
In the above excerpt, Mawlana Abul A’la al-Mawdudi (25 September

1903-22 September 1979) outlines his case for an Islamic State. A true
believer, he argues, will never limit the role of religion to the private realm;
all true believing Muslims who accept the sovereignty of Allah should also
automatically desire a political system based on His laws and principles,
so that they can live in the full light of Islam. This brief quotation also
captures Mawdudi’s distinctive, unapologetic and ‘fiery’ style – bold yet
rational, modern yet principled.
Mawdudi was a key mujaddid (revivalist) who, nearly forty years
after his death, still needs no introduction for anyone in South Asia.2
As a theologian, sociopolitical philosopher, political leader and Islamist
reformer, Mawdudi championed efforts to re-introduce Islam into Muslim
society as a holistic and complete solution to the bleak condition of the
Muslim Ummah in the early to mid-1900s. Marked by widespread
political and economic decline, as epitomised by the fateful abolition
of the last Muslim caliphate in 1924, this bleak condition reached its
SAYYID ABUL A’LA AL-MAWDUDI 313
peak with the early twentieth-century colonisation of almost all Muslim

lands. From that period on, Muslim society underwent major structural
shifts, including the bifurcation of the education system (into secular and
religious) and the restructuring of the political system in tune with liberal-
western philosophy. All this marginalised the role of Islam, both in the
sociopolitical and public spheres. For Mawdudi this was unacceptable:
Muslims, he argued, could only return to glory if they embraced Islam as
a total “way of life,” not confining it to the realm of ritual and worship, or
by perceiving it only as a past reality.
Mawdudi is regarded by many as a gifted, erudite and prolific
Islamist/revivalist thinker. His writings are often bold, forceful, cogent
and rational, presenting Islam as a holistic and coherent ideology.3 As
an important Muslim ideologue, Mawdudi challenged many of the key
concepts of Western civilisation, including nationalism, communism,
secularism and democracy.4 His Islamist ideas and philosophy left clear
marks on his contemporaries, many of whom also became key reformists/
Islamists – including the Sunni Egyptians, Ḥasan al-Bannā (d.1949) and
Sayyid Qutb (d.1966), and the Iranian Shi’a cleric, Ayatollah Khomeini
(d.1989). Qutb, for example, was influenced by Mawdudi’s ‘vanguard’
idealism,5 while Khomeini viewed Mawdudi’s theory of an Islamic State as
an appropriate model for his own Shi’a theocracy.6 Mawdudi also gained
the attention of the venerable Muhammad Iqbal (d.1938), collaborating
with him on a research project entitled ‘fiqh and modernity’.7
During and after his lifetime, Mawdudi became well known for his
comprehensive treatment of Islam, covering multiple disciplines and
issues. In the field of political science, for example, Sayyid Vali Reza
Nasr has identified Mawdudi as the first Islamic political thinker to
articulate a systematic understanding of an ‘Islamic state’ – and while also
providing a clear social plan to accompany it. Nasr has further pointed
out that Mawdudi’s coherent and elaborate articulation of political Islam
became the “essential breakthrough that led to the rise of contemporary
revivalism,” inspiring Islamic revivalists from across the globe, in places as
diverse as Morocco and Malaysia.8 In the field of economics, Timur Kuran
has credited Mawdudi with single-handedly coining the term ‘Islamic
economics’, thereby triggering the current worldwide growth in Islamic
financial institutions. In his paper, Kuran states that, since Mawdudi,
Islamic banks have been formed and continue to flourish in over sixty
countries, all of them offering Sharia-compliant services.9
Without doubt, Mawdudi’s thoughts and ideas formed the core of
first-generation Islamist ideology. He coined several key concepts – such
as ‘Islamic ideology’, ‘Islamic politics’, ‘Islamic constitution’, and ‘Islamic

way of life’ – all of which sought to present Islam as the ultimate cure for
the twentieth-century Ummah’s ills. Likewise, Mawdudi’s political vehicle,
the Jamaat-e-Islami (founded in 1941), and alongside Ḥasan al-Bannā’s
Muslim Brotherhood (founded in 1926), became the model organisation
for all subsequent Islamist movements. This article intends to present a
brief overview of this illustrious Islamic thinker, providing a glimpse into
his vibrant personal life and an overview of his work and social activism.
The Life, Works and Contributions of Mawlana al-Mawdudi

Born on 25 September 1903, Mawdudi grew up in the politically charged
climate of late colonial British India, where fierce political competition
was taking place between majority Hindu nationalists on the one hand
and various secularist and disunited Muslim factions on the other. Born
in Awrangabad, Deccan (Hyderabad), a former Mughal stronghold well
known for its literary and cultural traditions, Mawdudi was the youngest
son of the lawyer, Sayyid Ahmad Hasan. The second child of Hasan’s second
wife, Mawdudi hailed from a noble lineage: his mother claimed descent
from a family of Turkish generals who served under the Mughals, while
his father could trace his ancestors back to India’s well-known and well-
established Chishti Sufi order, which in turn traced its “origin to a family
of sayyids (descendants of the Prophet) of the ahlu’l-bayt (descendants of
the Prophet through his daughter, Fatimah).”10 In fact, the name Abul A’la
al-Mawdudi was taken from an eponymous ancestor, the Afghan ascetic
who first established the Chishti order in India and who died in 1527.11
In his autobiography, Mawdudi speaks about his father’s religiosity and
return to Islam (in particular Sufism) after a secular education. This left
a strong impression on Mawdudi, especially in terms of “idealism, piety
and humility.”12 It further imprinted itself on him when Hasan became his
first teacher, carefully shaping his curriculum in order to prepare him for
life as a traditional Islamic scholar (mawlvi). From that point on, most of
Mawdudi’s time was spent studying Persian, Urdu and Arabic, in addition
to manṭiq (logic), fiqh (jurisprudence), and hadith. By contrast, both the
English language and Western sciences (including mathematics) were
deliberately excluded from Mawdudi’s studies.13
This advanced homeschooling programme, coupled with a prohibition
against mingling with other children his own age (in order to protect his
speech and Urdu accent), meant Mawdudi endured a lonely childhood.
When he finally entered a local school at the age of eight, and although
immediately standing out as an outstanding student, his lack of social

exposure made it difficult for him to mingle with other children. His
advanced curriculum and isolation left an indelible mark on him, playing
a big part in shaping his personality – especially his famous ‘aloofness’.14
In 1916, Mawdudi and his family moved to Hyderabad, where he
enrolled at the Darul-U’lum College. He remained there for only six
months, however, at which point his father fell ill with severe paralysis.
Mawdudi therefore postponed his studies and helped attend his father
for the next two years, until the latter’s untimely death.15 It was during
this period that his family experienced financial difficulty, prompting
Mawdudi to begin a career as a journalist, to help support his family. His
journalistic years were quite dynamic; by age fifteen, and alongside his
elder brother, Sayyid Abul Khair Mawdudi, he had already become one of
the editors of the weekly magazine, Taj. After a negative encounter with
the colonial government, however, he resigned this position. Nevertheless,
by 1921 he was editor of the newspaper, Muslim, a mouthpiece for Jamiat
Ulama-e-Hind. Although this paper ceased operation two years later, by
1925 Jamiat Ulama-e-Hind had introduced a new newspaper, al-Jamiat,
to which Mawdudi was appointed as editor until 1928.16
After his father’s death, Mawdudi’s financial condition steadily improved
until he was able to resume his religious studies. Through his Jamiat Ulama-
e-Hind connections, he managed to enter the study circle of the prominent
‘ālim, Mawlana ‘Abdu’ssalam Niyazi. With Niyazi, Mawdudi began the
dars-i nizami syllabus (a traditional syllabus for the ulama), which included
subjects such as Arabic, tafsīr (Quranic commentary), hadith, fiqh, manṭiq,
kalām (theology) and philosophy. He would later finish this curriculum
with two Deobandi scholars in Old Delhi, from whom he received an ijāza
(certificate to teach religious classes). Later, in 1926 and 1928 respectively,
he also received two sanads (scholarly lineages).17 In addition to these high
religious studies credentials, during this period Mawdudi also became
well-versed in Western thought, as demonstrated by his later works, which
include references to an “impressive array of Western thinkers, from Plato,
Aristotle, Augustine, Liebniz, Kant, Saint Simon, Comte, Goethe, Hegel,
and Nietzsche to Darwin, Fichte, Marx, Lenin, and Bernard Shaw.”18
Mawdudi began his scholarly career with the publication of his Jihād
fī al-Islām in 1937.19 After the success of this text, his confidence in his
writing abilities grew quickly. Giving up his career as a journalist, he began
to focus his energy solely on scholar pursuits, including the editorship
of the monthly academic journal, Tarjuman al-Quran.20 The extensive
networks he had built up as a journalist continued to stand him in good
stead during this period: they facilitated the construction of a strong

base of followers and like-minded individuals. With their support, on
26 August 1941 Mawdudi formed his Islamic revivalist party, Jamaat-e
Islami. With seventy-five founding members and Mawdudi as its inaugural
amir (president),21 Jamaat-e Islami “continues to be active in Pakistan to
this day, as well as [through] its sister organizations in India, Bangladesh,
Kashmir and Sri Lanka.”22
Jamaat-e Islami’s active participation in politics, coupled with Mawdudi’s
bold and fiery style, did not come without its trials and tribulations. From
October 1948 to June 1950, Mawdudi and several other key Jamaat-
ie Islami leaders were imprisoned, primarily as a result of Mawdudi’s
inflammatory speeches demanding an Islamic order in Pakistan.23 Three
years later, in 1953, Mawdudi was arrested again and this time sentenced
to death for purportedly using his pamphlet, The Qadiyani Problem, to
incite violence against the Ahmadi community. In the same year, however,
and under mounting international and local pressure, Pakistan’s High
Court reduced his sentence to life imprisonment, before finally cancelling
it.24
Mawdudi has often been praised for offering “a concrete, comprehensive
and intellectually convincing presentation of Islam” that relates to personal,
social, economic, and political matters.25 He proclaimed Islam to be a
comprehensive ‘way of life’, in which all “have to seek guidance, spiritual
heat and [a] code of conduct.”26 His texts often used contemporary issues
to develop new and much needed understandings of Islam. Mawdudi’s
writings covered a vast arrays of topics, from veiling to jihād.27 His most
important works include: Towards Understanding Islam, Purdah and the
Status of Women in Islam, Islamic Law and Constitution, Let Us be Muslims,
Human Rights in Islam, Four Basic Quranic Terms, Economic System of
Islam, The Qadiyani Problem, and The Rights of Non-Muslims in an Islamic
State. In presenting his views, Mawdudi focused on the pristine and pure
nature of Islam. He wrote in an accessible, cogent and easy-to-read style,
peppered with only the occasional constitutional term or modern concept
(such as ‘theo-democracy’ or ‘democratic caliphate’).
Mawdudi also made a clear distinction between Islamic law (sharī’a) as
a normative guide and “historical Islamic laws,” which were temporal and
contextual.28 As a case in point, he discussed modern-day free elections
and democratic practices in the context of shūrā (a form of consultative
assembly mentioned in the Qur’an). First, Mawdudi carefully dissected
the main principles behind shūrā, deconstructing it from within its own
historical context. Mawdudi noted that the ṣaḥāba (companions of
the Prophet) who formed the classical shūrā assembly were paragons of
“loyalty, sincerity and ability,”29 able to command high levels of respect
and confidence within the Muslim community. He therefore identified
the primary element of shūrā as ‘public confidence’. On the basis of this
‘extracted’ principle, Mawdudi provided a commentary on modern-day
elections:
Consequently, after considering the circumstances and needs
of modern times, we can adopt all such possible and permissible
methods whereby we might be able to find out truly as to which
persons enjoy the confidence of the masses in greatest measure. The
modern system of elections is one of those permissible methods,
provided it is not tarred with the corrupt practices which render the
democracy a sheer farce.30
Mawdudi’s modern political reforms were not therefore concerned
with reviving shūrā in its classical form, but with reinterpreting it based on
the principles embedded within that classical form – in this case, to justify
democracy as a legitimate means of gaining public confidence. Based on
this principle, Mawdudi pioneered the modern Islamist approach: to carry
out an Islamic sociopolitical project within the framework of modern
democracy. This, however, does not mean Mawdudi wholeheartedly
embraced democracy. Rather, he ardently opposed the core of democratic
philosophy: that sovereignty belongs to the collective will of the people,
not God.
The above is merely a snippet of Mawdudi’s ideas and methods. As seen,
his vast body of work spans a wide range of topics. What set Mawdudi apart
from his contemporaries, however, was his magnetic appeal to the younger
generation. At a time when liberal Western thought was still considered
the benchmark of modernity, Mawdudi’s anti-establishment and reactive
approach appealed to those young Muslims who wished to carve out a new
identity for themselves. Mawdudi’s fervent challenges to, and criticisms
of, Western liberal thought served these Muslims in two ways: firstly, they
dispelled the notion of western superiority and, secondly, acted as a rallying
point for those Muslims seeking a renewal of their faith.31
Mawdudi passed away on 22 September 1979, in Buffalo, USA, while
under the care of his son, a medical doctor. He was subsequently buried at
his house in Lahore.32
Conclusion: Mawlana al-Mawdudi as an Architect of Islamic

Civilisation
The early twentieth century proved a very tumultuous time for Muslims.
The fall of the last Muslim Caliphate constituted a low ebb for this
once proud community, officially ending a legacy stretching back to the
Prophet. In its wake, Muslims all over the globe suddenly faced a new
set of challenges, both to their thought and identity. By responding to
these challenges, Mawdudi became one of the leaders of Islamic revivalism.
His clarity of thought and erudition shattered the ‘docile’ and ‘defeatist’
attitudes of other Muslims, itself the product of prolonged intellectual and
economic decline. His message was clear: Islam is not just a matter of faith,
separate from the modern political system, but a way of life applicable to
all circumstances. ‘Dualism’, he said, is not an option:
In Islam the religious, the political, the economic, and the social are
not separate systems; they are different departments and parts of the
same system.33
His ability to utilise contemporary concepts kept his Islamic narrative
fresh, further helping to free those Muslims trapped within a ‘dualism’
mindset. But in doing so, Mawdudi was careful not to fall into the trap
of tajaddud (innovation) – of interpreting Islam merely to suit modern
trends. Rather, he espoused tajdīd (renewal), or a revival of outlook that
nonetheless remained faithful to Islam as a whole.34
In sum, Mawdudi was a prolific and talented ideologue whose legacy of
activism remains a shining example for current Muslim thinkers.
Notes
1. Cited in Roy Jackson, Mawlana Mawdudi and Political Islam: Authority and
the Islamic State (London: Routledge, 2010), 128.
2. Ibid, 1.
3. Zeenath Kausar, ‘Mawdudi’s Philosophy of an Islamic State, Government
and Citizenship,’ in Contemporary Islamic Political Thought: A Study of Eleven
Thinkers, ed. Zinat Kauser (Kuala Lumpur: IIUM Press, 2009), 113-153.
4. Mohammad Abdullah, ‘Islamic Response to Western Civilization: A Study of
Maulana Maududi and Sayyid Qutb,’ Unpublished PhD Thesis, University
of Kashmir (2008).
5. Roy Jackson, Mawlana Mawdudi and Political Islam: Authority and The
Islamic State (London: Routledge, 2010), 2.
6. See S. V. R. Nasr, Mawdudi and the Making of Islamic Revivalism (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1996).
7. See Sarwat Saulat, Maulana Maududi, 1st ed. (Karachi: International Islamic
Publishers, 1979).
8. Nasr, Mawdudi and Islamic Revivalism, 3.
9. Kuran, ‘Genesis of Islamic Economics,’ 301–338.
10. Nasr, Mawdudi and Islamic Revivalism, 9.
11. Ibid, 9-11.
12. Ibid, 11.
13. Ibid, 12.
14. Ibid, 13-4.
15. Thameem Ushama and Noor Mohammad Osmani, ‘Sayyid Mawdudi’s
Contribution Towards Islamic Revivalism,’ IIUC Studies 3 (2006): 94.
16. Saulat, Maulana Maududi, 3.
17. Nasr, Mawdudi and Islamic Revivalism, 17-8.
18. Ibid, 15.
19. Jackson, Mawlana Mawdudi and Political Islam, 41.
21. Ibid, 11.
24. Ushama and Osmani, ‘Sayyid Mawdudi’s Contribution Towards Islamic
Revivalism,’ 95.
25. Kausar ‘Mawdudi’s Philosophy,’ 118.
26. Abdullah, ‘Islamic Response to Western Civilization,’ x.
Revivalism,’ 93–104.
29. Kausar, ‘Mawdudi’s Philosophy,’ 134.
30. Ibid, 134.
31. See Abdullah, ‘Islamic Response to Western Civilization.’
32. Ibid, 95
33. Nasr, Mawdudi and the Making of Islamic Revivalism, 82-3.
Revivalism,’ 97.
Further Reading
Abdullah, Mohammad. ‘Islamic Response to Western Civilization: A Study of
Maulana Maududi and Sayyid Qutb.’ Unpublished PhD Thesis, University of
Kashmir, 2008.
Jackson, R. Mawlana Mawdudi and Political Islam: Authority and the Islamic State.
London: Routledge, 2010.
Kuran, T. ‘The Genesis of Islamic Economics: A Chapter in the Politics of Muslim

Identity.’ Social Research 64, no. 2 (1997): 301–338.
Nasr, S. V. R. Mawdudi and the making of Islamic revivalism. Oxford: Oxford

Saulat, Sarwat. Maulana Maududi, 1st edition. Karachi: International Islamic

Publishers, 1979.
Ushama, Thameem, and Noor Mohammad Osmani. ‘Sayyid Mawdudi’s

Contribution Towards Islamic Revivalism.’ IIUC Studies 3 (2006): 93–104.
Kauser, Zeenath. ‘Mawdudi’s Philosophy of an Islamic State, Government and

Citizenship.’ In Contemporary Islamic Political Thought: A Study of Eleven
Thinkers, edited by Zinat Kauser, 113–153. Kuala Lumpur: IIUM Press, 2009.
42
Hamka
(Haji Abdul Malik Karim Amrullah)
(1908-1981CE)
M. Fakhrurrazi Ahmad
Hamka does not only belong to the nation of Indonesia, but he is the
pride of all nations of South East Asia.1
Tun Abdul Razak, Malaysian Prime Minister 1970-1976
Prof. Dr. Haji Abdul Malik Karim Amrullah is perhaps the most famous
Malay cultural figure of the twentieth century. More commonly known
by his nickname, Buya Hamka,2 he contributed to Malay Islamic
civilisation as a scholar, philosopher, writer, poet, novelist, political leader,
anthropologist and Islamic reformer. He was also the first person to be
awarded the title Ustadziyya Fakhriyya (or Doctor Honoris Causa) by Egypt’s
famous al-Azhar University in 1959. Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia (The
National University of Malaysia) also conferred this title on him in 1974,
in a ceremony presided over by the then Malaysian Prime Minister, Tun
Abdul Razak (d.1976). In his native Indonesia, the Moestopo University
of Jakarta inaugurated him as Guru Besar (Professor) in 1960, while the
Muhammadiyyah University of Prof. Dr. Hamka (UHAMKA) is named in
his honour. In this short paper, I will attempt to outline his life and work.
Early Life
Hamka was born on 17 February 1908 (13 Muḥarram 1362) in Kampung
Molek, Maninjau, West Sumatra. The first of seven brothers, he was the
son of Shaykh Abdul Karim bin Amrullah (or Haji Rasul), a prominent
Minangkabau Islamic reformer, and Sitti Shafiyah. Shaykh Abdul Karim

was a pioneer of iṣlāḥ (Islamic reform) in the Minangkabau region, a
movement known locally as Kaum Muda (Young Clan). This movement
sought to implement tajdīd (revival) in Indonesia, with Shaykh Abdul
Karim helping to initiate it after his return from Makkah in 1906. It was
soon challenged, however, by the Kaum Tua (Old Clan). Although Hamka
spent his early years with his grandmother in Maninjau, from age six, when
he moved to Padang Panjang to live with his father and study the Holy
Qur’an, he experienced first-hand a peak in hostilities between the Kaum
Muda and Kaum Tua. This exposed him to the two factions’ theological and
philosophical debates from an early age, greatly influencing his later quest
for knowledge and helping to develop his critical thinking on theology,
philosophy, politics and social issues.3
Education
Hamka’s formal education began in 1915, at the Sekolah Rakyat (Public
School) in Padang Panjang. As a young child, he was naughty, playful and
roguish. He would often go to school early just so he could play before
classes began. In particular, he enjoyed playing hide-and-seek, wrestling
and roaming around the village. Also during this period, Hamka began to
develop his love of the arts, especially poetry; during his childhood years,
he spent much time listening to kaba (Minang folk stories narrated to
traditional music) and composing pantun, syair and gurindam.4
From 1916 to 1923, Hamka studied Islamic theology, first at the
Diniyyah School in Padang Panjang, and then at Sumatera Thawalib in
Parabek. In addition to his father, his teachers included Shaykh Ibrahim
Musa Parabek, Engku Mudo Abdul Hamid, and Zainuddin Labay el-
Yunusy.5
In 1924, Hamka travelled to Yogyakarta, Java, where he began learning
philosophy, anthropology and political science. While in Yogyakarta,
his teachers included H. O. S. Tjokroaminoto, H. Fakhruddin, R. M.
Suryopranoto and A. R. Sutan Mansur. These figures also introduced him
to Java’s Islamic political movements.6
Early Writing Career

In 1927, Hamka went to Makkah, where he became a correspondent for
the Indonesian-language newspaper, Pelita Andalas (Light of Andalas).
HAMKA (HAJI ABDUL MALIK KARIM AMRULLAH) 323
Returning to Indonesia in 1935, Hamka went back to Padang Panjang,

where he began developing his writing skills further. Thus, his first book
appeared during this period, entitled Khatibul Ummah (Preacher of the
Nation). He also began writing for several Indonesian magazines, including
Seruan Islam (The Call of Islam), Bintang Islam (The Star of Islam), Suara
Muhammadiyyah (The Voice of the Muhammadiyyah), Pembela Islam
(Defender of Islam) and al-Mahdi. From 1936 to 1943, he also published
the Pedoman Masyarakat (A Guidebook for Society) magazine, based in
Medan (Sumatra). This published articles on Islamic theology, philosophy
and taṣawwuf (mysticism), in addition to fictional stories, including
Hamka’s famous Tenggelamnya Kapal Van Der Wijck (The Sinking of the
Van Der Wijck). During the Japanese occupation, Hamka also produced
the books Semangat Islam (The Spirit of Islam) and Sejarah Islam di
Sumatera (The History of Islam in Sumatra).
After the Indonesian National Revolution (1945-1949), Hamka moved
to West Sumatra and published many avant-garde and revolutionary
books, including: Revolusi Pemikiran (Intellectual Revolution), Revolusi
Agama (Religious Revolution), Adat Minangkabau Menghadapi Revolusi
(Minangkabau Custom Facing Revolution), Negara Islam (Islamic State),
Merdeka (Independence), Islam dan Demokrasi (Islam and Democracy),
and Menunggu Beduk Berbunyi (Awaiting the Sound of the Drum). In
1950, he went to Jakarta, where he published Ayahku (My Father), Kenang-
Kenangan Hidup (Mementos of Life), Perkembangan Tasawwuf dari Abad
ke Abad (The Spread of Mysticism from Century to Century) and Urat
Tunggang Pancasila (The Core of Pancasila). He also wrote the travelogues,
Di Tepi Sungai Nil (By the River Nil), Di Tepi Sungai Dajlah (By the River
Dajlah), Mandi Cahaya di Tanah Suci (A Shower of Light in the Holy
Land) and Empat Bulan di Amerika (Four Months in America).7
In 1952, Hamka was appointed by Indonesia’s Ministry of Education
and Culture to the Cultural Deliberation Council. He was also inaugurated
as Guru Besar (Principal) of the Advanced Islamic College and Islamic
University of Makassar, as well as Advisor of the Indonesian Ministry of
Religion.8 In 1955, he published Pelajaran Agama Islam (A Study of the
Islamic Religion), Sejarah Hidup Jamaluddin al-Afghany (A History of
the Life of Jamauddin al-Afghani) and Sejarah Umat Islam (A History of
the Islamic Community). In the 1970s, he published Soal Jawab (tentang
Agama Islam) (Questions and Answers [concerning Islam]), Kedudukan
Perempuan dalam Islam (The Place of Women in Islam), Do’a-Do’a
Rasulullah (The Supplications of the Messenger of God) and many others.
Involvement in Politics
Hamka first became involved in politics in 1925, when he joined the
Indonesian trade union, Sarekat Islam. After Indonesian independence,
however, he became an active member of Partai Masyumi (Partai Majelis
Syuro Muslimin Indonesia), even being elected to its Constituent Council in
1955. In that position, and together with Mohammad Natsir, Mohammad
Roem and Isa Anshari, Hamka urged the implementation of Sharia as the
foundation of the Indonesian constitution. In a speech given at the time,
Hamka insisted that the first commandment of Pancasila be (and as stated
in the Jakarta Charter) “Belief in Almighty God with the obligation for the
Muslim to practice sharī’ah.”
During the Indonesian-Malaysian Confrontation (1963-1966), the
Indonesian government accused Hamka of conspiring with Malaysia to
topple President Sukarno in a coup d’etat. As a result, in 1964 Hamka and
several other Indonesian political leaders were arrested, interrogated and
sent to prison without trial. Hamka was incarcerated for the next two years
and four months in Sukabumi Prison.
In 1967, the 30 September Movement swept President Sukarno from
power, replacing him with his general, Suharto (d.2008). Sukarno was
placed under house arrest, where he remained until his death in 1970.
Interestingly, Sukarno’s last wish was that Hamka lead his funeral prayer:
Bila aku mati kelak, minta kesediaan Hamka untuk menjadi imam shalat
jenazahku (When I die, please ask Hamka to be the Imam at my funeral).
Without any hesitation, Hamka accepted this honour and fulfilled
Sukarno’s last wish. When asked whether he held a grudge against Sukarno
for the injustices done to him, he replied: “I never hold grudges against
people who treat me unjustly. Grudges lead to sin. When I was imprisoned
for two years and four months, I felt like it was a blessing, [because] I
managed to complete writing Tafsir al-Azhar behind the bars.”
On 26 July 1975, Hamka was elected leader of the Majlis Ulama
Indonesia (Indonesian Council of Muslim Scholars), the third largest Muslim
organisation in Indonesia behind Nahdatul Ulama’ and Muhammadiyyah.
Important Works
As a talented linguist, Hamka was able to use the finest literary Malay,
whether in poetry, fiction or scholastic discussion. For this reason, Slamet
Mulyono regards him as the “Hamzah Fansuri of the New Era.”9 His most
notable works include:
1. Tafsir al-Azhar (The al-Azhar Exegesis)

Considered my many to be his masterpiece, this text was written and
completed during his imprisonment. An exegesis of the Holy Qur’an,
in it Hamka integrates the concepts of aqlī-naqlī, riwaya-diraya and
ijtihād al-ra’yī in order to produce an interpretation of the Holy Qur’an
suited to the modern era. In this regard, he was influenced by the Tafsīr
al-Manār of Rashīd Ridā . (d.1935) and the Tafsīr fī Ẓilāl al-Qur’ān
of Sayyid Qutb (d.1966). While writing this text, Hamka frequently
consulted experts on matters beyond his range of expertise. For instance,
the Indonesian astronomer, Saadoe'ddin Djambek (d.1977), advised
him about those Qur’anic verses related to astronomy. Indeed, Hamka
put such stock in accurate knowledge that he even considered allowing
a trained biologist to write the exegesis of those Qur’anic verses related
to embryology and creation, a zoologist the exegesis of Sūra al-Naḥl (The
Bee), and a meteriologist that of Sūra al-Ra’d (The Thunder).10 Tafsīr al-
Azhar was intended for all stratums of society, hence its style is easy to
understand, being neither intricate nor tedious. Hamka tried to elucidate
each Qur’anic verse from different perspectives: linguistic, philosophical,
historical, logical and scientific. In order to enhance his arguments, he
would sometimes cross-reference with other holy scriptures.11
2. Tasawuf Moden (Modern Tasawwuf

. )
This text is concerned with achieving happiness and contentment through
spirituality. In it, Hamka stresses the importance of purifying the heart
and soul, and of cultivating virtues and moral principles. As well as
discussing the philosophy of happiness from the perspectives of Muslim
thinkers like Ibn Sīnā (d.429/1037) and al-Ghazālī (d.505/1111), the text
also examines the thought of Western thinkers like Aristotle (d.322BCE),
Hendrik Ibsen (d.1906), Leo Tolstoy (d.1910), and George Bernard Shaw
(d.1950).12
3. Revolusi Agama (Religious Revolution)

In this text, Hamka positions the Indonesian revolution within the wider
framework of a ‘revolution of mankind’. The real essence of the revolution,
he argues, was religious awakening, or a desire to more fully understand
the nature of humanity and its Creator. Hamka emphasises that Muslims
can only achieve freedom via their own self-confidence.13
4. Lembaga Hikmat (Constitution of Wisdom)

This text is a compilation of ten short stories expressing ideas and values
from multiple regions of the world. It includes the stories of Kaizer Franz
Josef of Austria, the Brahman monk of the Gangga River, the Egyptian
general, the sheperd of the Sahara desert, Caliph Umar Abdul Aziz, and
others.14
5. Teguran Suci dan Jujur Terhadap Mufti Johor (Honest and Sincere
Admonition to the Mufti of Johor)
In an article published in Semenanjung magazine (No. 109), as-Sayyid
Alwi bin Tahir al-Haddad, the then Mufti of Johor (Malaysia), claimed
that the Kaum Muda were the primary cause of pervasive Communist
and Christian influence in Indonesia. He also accused them of being
disrespectful towards the ahl al-bayt (the family of the Prophet).15 Hamka
wrote this text in order to refute the Mufti’s arguments.
6. Tenggelamnya Kapal Van Der Wijck (Sinking of the van der Wijck)
This novel concerns the story of the two young lovers, Zainuddin and
Hayati, who are prevented from marrying each other because of rigid
indigenous traditions and the gap in their social status. Although most
literary critics, including Bakri Siregar, describe this novel as Hamka’s
best, Abdullah S. P. has accused him of plagiarising an earlier work by
Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr, entitled Sous les Tilleuls (Under the Limes,
1832). A comparative study by H. B. Jasin, however, has concluded that
there is little chance of plagiarism: Hamka’s meticulous narrative and the
consistency between this story and his earlier work suggests it has not
been copied.16 This novel remains in print in Indonesia, Singapore and
Malaysia.17 In 2013, it was also adapted for film.
Death
Hamka died on 24 July 1981, aged 73. He had been suffering from
multiple organ dysfuntion. His funeral was held at the Grand Mosque of
Jakarta and his body subsequently interred at the Public Cemetry of Tanah
Kusir, South Jakarta. In addition to President Suharto, various important
ministers, religious leaders, and thousands of ordinary people attended his
funeral in order to pay their respects.
Notes
1. H. Rusydi Hamka, Hamka Pujangga Islam Kebanggaan Rumpun Melayu
(Shah Alam: Pustaka Dini, 2010), 17.
2. Buya is an Arabic word for ‘father’ and here denotes great respect. ‘Hamka’ is
an acronym of his full name.
3. Rusydi Hamka, Hamka Pujangga Islam Kebanggaan Rumpun Melayu, 1.
4. A pantun is a Malay poem consisting of a quatrain with a particular rhyme
scheme; the syair is a form of traditional Malay poetry made up of four-line
stanzas; the gurindam is a poem consisting of long couplets of two stanzas
each, with each stanza consisting of two lines in the same rhyme.
5. Hamka, Tasawuf Moden (Jakarta: Republika Penerbit, 1939), iii.
6. Ibid, iv.
7. Ibid, v.
8. Ibid.
9. Ibid, vi.
10. Hamka, Tafsir al-Azhar: Jilid I (Jakarta: Pustaka Panjimas, 1982), 6.
11. Ibid.
12. Hamka, Tasawuf Moden.
13. B. J. Boland, The Struggle of Islam in Modern Indonesia (Dordrecht: Springer,
1982), 77.
14. Hamka, Lembaga Hikmat (Shah Alam: Pustaka Dini, 2008).
15. Hamka, Teguran Suci dan Jujur Terhadap Mufti Johor (Shah Alam: Pustaka
Dini, 2010).
16. Hamka, Tenggelamnya Kapal Van Der Wijck (Batu Caves: PTS Publications,
2015).
17. PTS Publication republished this novel in April 2015. This company alone
managed to sell more than 20,000 copies of it in just one year.
Further Reading
Boland, B. J. The Struggle of Islam in Modern Indonesia. Dordrecht: Springer, 1982.
Hamka. Lembaga Hikmat. Shah Alam: Pustaka Dini, 2008.
______. Tafsir al-Azhar: Jilid I. Jakarta: Pustaka Panjimas, 1982.
______. Tasawuf Moden. Jakarta: Republika Penerbit, 1939.
______. Teguran Suci dan Jujur Terhadap Mufti Johor. Shah Alam: Pustaka Dini,
2010.
______. Tenggelamnya Kapal Van Der Wijck. Batu Caves: PTS Publications, 2015.
Rusydi Hamka, H. Hamka Pujangga Islam Kebanggaan Rumpun Melayu. Shah

Alam: Pustaka Dini, 2010.
43
Fazlur Rahman
(1919-1988CE)
Abdul Karim Abdullah
Fazlur Rahman, the leading Muslim modernist intellectual, aimed to

revive Islamic thought. He distinguished between ‘normative Islam’ and
‘historical Islam’, challenging his contemporaries to re-interpret tradition.1
Rahman had reservations about literalist interpretations of the Qur’an; he
stressed that context was important for an understanding of the text.2
He saw the purpose of the Qur’an as being to establish an ethical and
just society where the weak and vulnerable would be protected and where
the talented could develop to their full potential, without being overly
restricted.3 He did not therefore support the views of secularists, who saw
no role for Islam in the modern public sphere.4
But Muslims, Rahman believed, had to rediscover “the real Islam”, not
only for their own benefit, but also “for the benefit of all mankind.”5 He
argued that it was necessary to go beyond traditional, atomistic readings of
the Qur’an, to see how its wisdom could be applied to the contemporary
era. He insisted that:
the Qur’an must be so studied that its concrete unity will emerge
in its fullness, and that to select certain verses from the Qur’an
to project a partial and subjective point of view may satisfy the
subjective observer but it necessarily does violence to the Qur’an
itself…6
Rahman believed that knowledge of historical context was a sine qua
non for a good understanding of the Qur’an. Rahman proposed classifying
all verses of the Qur’an as either universal or historical.7 Universal verses,
FAZLUR RAHMAN 329
such as those emphasising tawḥīd (the Oneness of God), would be seen as

timeless, while the principles underlying the historical verses would be seen
as only applicable under specific historical conditions. To facilitate this
appreciation of historical context, Rahman argued in favour of educational
improvements and a new ijtihād.8 He provided a strong critique of current
Islamic education and suggested ways of achieving renewal.
Life in Pakistan
Fazlur Rahman Ansari al-Qadri was born on 21 September 1919, in the
Hazara district of what was then British India. He died on 26 July 1988.
His father studied at Deoband and attained the rank of ‘ālim (scholar).
The young Fazlur Rahman learned Arabic at Punjab University in Lahore,
gaining an MA in Arabic (with distinction). Subsequently, he went on to
Oxford University, where he earned a PhD in 1949 with a dissertation
on Ibn Sīnā (Avicenna). He then taught Persian and Islamic philosophy
at Durham University (UK). From there he went to Canada where, from
1958 to 1961, he taught at the then recently established Institute of Islamic
Studies at McGill University. During these years, Rahman focused on the
study of philosophy and theology through the medium of classical Islamic
scholarship and published his famous text, Prophecy in Islam (1958).
In 1961, at the invitation of President Ayub Khan, Rahman returned
to Pakistan, where he served as Visiting Professor at the Islamic Research
Institute of Islamabad.9 The following year, he was appointed Director
of the Islamic Research Institute of Karachi, a post he held until 1968.10
Here he was tasked with the development of an Islamic Studies curriculum
suitable for the young country’s future religious leaders. He was also
appointed a member of the Advisory Council of Islamic Ideology, a policy
research institute, and helped found the journal, Islamic Studies.
It was also during his time in Pakistan that Rahman published two
significant works, Islamic Methodology in History (1964) and Islam (1966).
The former was a historical-critical analysis of the prophetic traditions (or
ahādīth)
. and the role they played in the development of the Prophet’s
Sunna, one of the two major sources of Islamic law. The latter text, on the
other hand, was a general reader on Islam looking at the various branches
of Islamic learning, including theology, Sharia, and Sufism, in addition
to Islam’s textual sources (the Qur’an, Sunna and so forth). This book has
remained an important reference work on Islam. It may also be described
as an elaboration of an Islamic worldview within the context of modernity.
Ultimately, Rahman’s thought during this period hinged on his

opinion that all existing interpretations of the Qur’an were suited only
for the time periods in which they were produced. Each generation had
responded to and approached the Qur’an in light of its own experience,
drawing its own conclusions about how to apply the text’s teachings in
response to the specific historical challenges it faced. The emergence of
taqlīd (indiscriminate imitation) had therefore greatly undermined the
authenticity of later Muslim scholars, who became intellectually beholden
to their predecessors. In Rahman’s view, taqlīd was an unqualified disaster,
effectively stifling any further growth in Islamic civilisation. It effectively
‘froze’ Muslim civilisation in time, imposing a rigid conformity. Taqlīd
effectively precluded any possibility of renewal and destined Islam to
intellectual stagnation.
While in Pakistan, Rahman also further developed his critique of
the second source of Sharia, the Sunna of the Prophet. He differentiated
between what he called the ‘ideal Sunna’, which was the Sunna of the
Prophet, and the ‘living Sunna’, which was the Sunna of the community.
He argued that the meaning of the Prophet’s Sunna underwent a change
over time; initially, only a small number of hadith were understood to
reflect Prophetic practice on a range of given issues. Over time, however,
it was assumed that all hadith reflected the Prophet’s Sunna.11 As a result,
later scholars found themselves confronted with the need to reconcile
inconsistencies (if not contradictions) between various hadith, and also
between some hadith and the Qur’an.
In the late 1960s, a new and more conservative regime came to power
in Pakistan. As a result, Rahman found himself under threat from various
conservative elements within the Pakistani religious establishment, who
viewed his ideas as inimical to Islam.12 Due to this less than conducive
political climate, Rahman resigned from his position at Karachi’s Islamic
Research Institute in 1968. He resigned because, as he put it, he was
“unwilling to compromise on his humanist take of Islam.” Certainly,
Rahman’s modernist ideas had touched off violent protests across the
country, organised by traditional religious scholars. Because of his
controversial views, Rahman was forced to leave Pakistan in 1968.
Life in the US
Travelling to the US, upon his arrival Rahman joined the University of
California Los Angeles, where he worked for a year as a Visiting Professor.
He also served as an advisor to the State Department. The following year
FAZLUR RAHMAN 331
(1969) he joined the University of Chicago. There he helped found the

Near Eastern Studies Program, still held to be amongst the best in the
world.13 At Chicago, he taught several generations of students and wrote
Major Themes of the Qur’an (1980) and Islam and Modernity (1982).
In his Islam and Modernity, Rahman argued there was a need for
educational reform within the Muslim world. Traditional Islamic
educational methods, he said, were unsuitable for enabling Muslims to
adapt to the demands of modernity.14 A new Islamic epistemology was
needed, one that would be both Islamic and scientific at the same time.15
This methodology of interpretation would reject “strict literalism in favour
of ‘rational reconstruction.’”16
Like Muhammad Iqbal (d.1938) before him, and who had also argued
for a ‘reconstruction’ of religious thought, Rahman favoured a holistic
approach to reform, capable of enabling a re-application of the eternal
principles of Islam in the post-colonial era. He felt that the heritage of
Islam contained the necessary resources to allow contemporary Islamic
civilisation to adapt successfully to modernity.17 What prevented it from
doing so, however, was the methodology used to study it – a challenge he
grappled with in his Islamic Methodology in History. He felt, for example,
that the Qur’an carried a universal ethical message that tended to be
overlooked because of an overemphasis on legalistic approaches to the
text. In his work, therefore, Rahman sought to restore the balance between
spirituality and ritual.
Unlike the Egyptian Islamist, Sayyid Qutb (d.1966), Rahman disdained
the rhetoric of revolution. Like Qutb, however, Rahman was wary of using
extra-Qur’anic sources when interpreting the Qur’an itself; he felt that
an overreliance on extra-Qur’anic texts would overshadow the text of
the Qur’an itself and lead to misinterpretations and misunderstandings.
According to Rahman, exegetes who had used extra-Qur’anic sources in
the past had often used unreliable and obscure sources, negatively affecting
their interpretations. Ultimately, Rahman believed that the best interpreter
of the Qur’an was the Qur’an itself.
Rahman entertained the possibility of what he called an “alliance of
civilisations,” but on the condition that “Muslims hearken more to the
Qur’an than to the historic formulations of Islam.”18 In particular, he
rejected the historical idea that the so-called “verse of the sword” abrogated
those conciliatory Qur’anic verses counselling peaceful co-existence and
inter-religious tolerance. For Rahman, jihād was primarily an ethical
struggle (the ‘greater jihād’ of the Prophet), rather than a military
engagement.
Rahman emphasised the continued relevance of the Qur’an and urged

his contemporaries to approach it in a fresh way, without preconceived
notions. He felt that the intellectual, cultural and economic backwardness
of Muslim majority nations was due to intellectual rigidity and a limited
critical engagement with the intellectual heritage of the past, coupled with
an insufficient willingness to adapt and evolve.
Conclusion
The experience of Fazlur Rahman illustrates the challenges facing any
would-be Muslim reformer and modernist. Resistance to change remains
strong in the Muslim world; attempts to re-interpret the past are often
seen as little more than attempts to undermine tradition. Nevertheless,
Rahman’s work has undoubtedly inspired an entire generation of Muslim
scholars, both in America and elsewhere. It is, however, only a first step.
One area that deserves much further attention is the relationship
between reason and revelation; while reason is rationalistic and empirical,
revelation is intuitive. Further consideration must be given to how these can
work together. Traditionally, ijtihād has been used as a regulated modality
for harmonising these concepts. Certain aspects of this methodology,
however, may need reappraisal in order to accommodate modern advances
in scientific rationality.
In addition, any new interpretative methodology for approaching the
sacred texts will have to take into account not only historical context, but also
new intellectual approaches to understanding reality. It was in this area that
Rahman made his most important contributions to the building (and indeed
rebuilding) of Islamic civilisation, qualifying him as one of its ‘architects’.
Notes
1. Earle H. Waugh, ‘The Legacies of Fazlur Rahman for Islam in America,’ The
American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 16, no. 3 (1999): 27-44.
2. Ziauddin Sardar, ‘Rethinking Islam,’ Critical Muslim, 91. Available at: http://
ziauddinsardar.com/2011/02/rithinking-islam/. (Accessed on: 20 December
2015).
3. Frederick M. Denny, ‘Fazlur Rahman: Muslim Intellectual,’ The Muslim
World 79, no. 2 (1989): 91-101.
4. ‘Qur’an,’ Oxford Islamic Studies Online. Available at: http://www.
oxfordislamicstudies.com/article/opr/t236/e0661. (Accessed on: 19
December 2015).
5. Fazlur Rahman, ‘Islam: Challenges and Opportunities,’ in Islam: Past Influence
FAZLUR RAHMAN 333
and Present Challenge, ed. Alford T. Welch and Pierre Cachia (Albany: State
University of New York Press, 1979), 315-30.
6. Fazlur Rahman, Major Themes of the Qur’an (Minneapolis, MN: Bibliotheca
Islamica, 1980), 98-9.
7. Mehmet Akif Koc, ‘The Influence of Western Qur’anic Scholarship in
Turkey,’ Journal of Qur’anic Studies, 14, no. 1 (2012): 15.
8. ‘Rahman, Fazlur,’ Oxford Reference. Available at: http://www.oxfordreference.
com/view/10.1093/oi/authority.20110803100401842. (Accessed on: 18
December 2015).
9. ‘Islamic Research Institute,’ Oxford Index. Available at: http://oxfordindex.
oup.com/view/10.1093/oi/authority.20110803100012422?rskey=H4Carr&
result=18. (Accessed on: 19 December 2015).
10. Willem A. Bijlefeld, ‘Dr. Fazlur Rahman,’ The Muslim World 79, no. 1 (1989):
80.
11. R. Kevin Jaques, ‘Fazlur Rahman Quran, Prophecy and Islamic Reform,’
Studies in Contemporary Islam 4 (2002): 63-83.
12. Frederick Mathewson Denny, ‘The Legacy of Fazlur Rahman,’ in The Muslims
of America, ed. Yvonne Yazbeck Haddad (New York: Oxford University Press,
1991), 97.
13. Hafeez Malik, ‘Dr. Fazl–ur–Rahman,’ Journal of South Asian and Middle
Eastern Studies, 12, no. 3 (1989): 3.
14. Fazlur Rahman, ‘Islamic Studies and the Future of Islam,’ in Islamic Studies: A
Tradition and its Problems, ed. M. H. Kosr (Malibu, CA: Undena Publications,
1980), 125-133.
15. Basit B. Koshul, ‘Fazlur Rahman’s Islam and Modernity Revisited,’ Islamic
Studies 33, no. 4 (1994): 403-17.
16. Waheed Hussain, ‘A Philosophical Critique of Fazlur Rahman’s Islam and
Modernity,’ Harvard Middle Eastern and Islamic Review 6 (2000-1): 53.
17. S. Parvez Manzoor, ‘Damning History but Saving the Text: Fazlur Rahman
between Tradition and Modernity,’ Islamica 2, no. 4 (1998): 41.
18. Celene Ibrahim-Lizzio, ‘Qur’anic Exegesis and Two Postcolonial Reform
Agendas: Sayyid Quṭb (1906-1966) and Fazlur Rahman (1916-1988),’ Muslim
World Affairs. Available at: http://muslimworldaffairs.com/2015/08/08/
quranic-exegesis-and-two-postcolonial-reform-agendas/. (Accessed on: 18
December 2015).
Further Reading
Bijlefeld, Willem A. ‘Dr. Fazlur Rahman.’ The Muslim World 79, no. 1 (1989):
80-1.
Denny, Frederick M. ‘Fazlur Rahman: Muslim Intellectual.’ The Muslim World 79,
no. 2 (1989): 91-101.
_______________. ‘The Legacy of Fazlur Rahman.’ In The Muslims of America,

edited by Yvonne Yazbeck Haddad, 96-108. New York: Oxford University
Press, 1991.
Hussain, Waheed. ‘A Philosophical Critique of Fazlur Rahman’s Islam and

Modernity.’ Harvard Middle Eastern and Islamic Review 6 (2000-1): 53-81.
Ibrahim-Lizzio, Celene. ‘Qur’anic Exegesis and Two Postcolonial Reform Agendas:

Sayyid Qutb. (1906-1966) and Fazlur Rahman (1916-1988),’ Muslim World
Affairs. Available at: http://muslimworldaffairs.com/2015/08/08/quranic-
exegesis-and-two-postcolonial-reform-agendas/.
‘Islamic Research Institute,’ Oxford Index. Available at: http://oxfordindex.oup.

com/view/10.1093/oi/authority.20110803100012422?rskey=H4Carr&resu
lt=18
Jaques, R. Kevin. ‘Fazlur Rahman Quran, Prophecy and Islamic Reform.’ Studies
in Contemporary Islam 4 (2002): 63-83.
Koc, Mehmet Akif. ‘The Influence of Western Qur’anic Scholarship in Turkey.’

Journal of Qur’anic Studies 14, no. 1 (2012): 9-44.
Koshul, Basit B. ‘Fazlur Rahman’s Islam and Modernity Revisited.’ Islamic Studies
33, no. 4 (1994): 403-17.
Malik, Hafeez. ‘Dr. Fazl–ur–Rahman.’ Journal of South Asian and Middle Eastern
Studies 12, no. 3 (1989): 3.
Manzoor, S. Parvez. ‘Damning History but Saving the Text: Fazlur Rahman
between Tradition and Modernity.’ Islamica 2, no. 4 (1998): 41-4.
‘Qur’an.’ Oxford Islamic Studies Online. Available at: http://www.

oxfordislamicstudies.com/article/opr/t236/e0661.
Rahman, Fazlur. ‘Islam: Challenges and Opportunities.’ In Islam: Past Influence

and Present Challenge, edited by Alford T. Welch and Pierre Cachia, 315-30.
Albany: State University of New York Press, 1979.
____________. ‘Islamic Studies and the Future of Islam.’ In Islamic Studies: A

Tradition and its Problems, edited M. H. Kosr, 125-133. Malibu, CA: Undena
Publications, 1980.
____________. Major Themes of the Qur’an. Minneapolis, MN: Bibliotheca

Islamica, 1980.
‘Rahman, Fazlur.’ Oxford Reference. Available at: http://www.oxfordreference.

com/view/10.1093/oi/authority.20110803100401842.
Sardar, Ziauddin. ‘Rethinking Islam.’ Critical Muslim. Available at: http://

ziauddinsardar.com/2011/02/rithinking-islam/.
FAZLUR RAHMAN 335
Waugh, Earle H. ‘The Legacies of Fazlur Rahman for Islam in America.’ The
American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 16, no. 3 (1999): 27-44.
INDEX
‘Abbāsid dynasty 141 Abū Zahra, Muḥammad 49, 297-303

‘Abbār, Ibn 157 Abū Zayd, Bakr 198, 200
‘Abbās, ‘Abd Allāh ibn 6 Aceh 219, 222
‘Abbās, al-Manṣūr ‘Alī b. 249 Adab al-manāsik (al-Ṭabarī) 89
‘Abbās II (Khedive) 259 Adab al-mufrad (al-Bukhārī) 30
‘Abbāsī, Muḥammad al- 256 Adab al-nufūs (al-Ṭabarī) 89
‘Abbāsid Caliphate 15, 27, 29-30, 39, 41, Adab al-ṭalab wa muntaha al-arab (al-
52-53, 58, 90, 103, 131-132, 134- Shawkānī) 249
136, 149, 155n.2, 179 ‘ādāt (tradition) 269, 301
‘Abd Allāh, Abū Muṭī‛ al-Ḥakam b. 43 ‘Adī, Yaḥyā ibn 96
‘Abd Allah, Umar 42 ‘Affair of the Necklace’ 20
‘Abd al-Azīz, Shāh 239 ‘Affān, ‘Uthmān ibn 8, 13, 22, 28, 45
‘Abd al-Muṭṭalib 11, 51 Afghānī, Jamāl al-Dīn al- 254, 256-259,
‘Abd al-Muṭṭalib, Abū Ṭālib ibn 10-11 260, 270, 290, 292, 308
‘Abd al-Raḥīm, Shāh 234 Africa 102, 103, 164, 165, 205, 210-211,
‘Abd al-Wahhāb, Muḥammad ibn 301 220-221
‘Abd Manāf, Hāshim b. al-Muṭṭalib b. 51 Aḥāḍīth Ghadīr Khumm (al-Ṭabarī)
abdāl (inner humanity) 64-65, 67n.4 89-90
‘Abduh, Muḥammad 252-263, 266, 270, aḥkām (case law) 71, 285
283, 290, 292 Aḥkām ahl al-Dhimma (Ibn Qaiyyim)
‘Abdul ‘Uzzā, Nufayl ibn 3 193, 201
Abī Bakr, ‛Ā’isha bint (wife of Aḥkām al-sulṭāniyya wal-wilāyāt al-
Muḥammad) 13, 14, 19-23, 286 dīniyya, al- (al-Māwardī) 131,
Abī Bakr, Asmā‘ bint 22 133-136
Abī Ruwād, Ibn 52 ahl al-bayt (people of the house) 16n.3,
Abī Shaybah, Abū Bakr ibn 70 27, 28-30, 32, 33, 249, 314, 326
Abī Sufyān, Mu’awiya ibn 14, 28-29 ahl al-ḥadīth (traditionalists) 39, 42, 49,
Abī Sulaymān, Ḥammād ibn 40 53, 54-55, 58, 61-64, 67n.5, 75,
Abī Ṭālib, ‘Alī ibn 8, 10-18, 22, 27, 28, 193, 248
31, 88, 89-90, 136n.9, 286 ahl al-kalām (theologians) 64
Abī Uṣaybi‘a, Ibn 161 ahl al-ra’y (rationalists) 49, 53, 61, 64,
Abī Waqqās, Sa’d ibn 8, 231n.3 75
ʿĀbidīn, ‘Alī Zayn al- 29, 300 Aḥmad, Mahdī ‘Abd Allāh 250
ʿĀbidīn, Muḥammad Amīn ibn 240-245 Ahmadabad 306
Abū al-‘Abbās 117 Aḥmadī, the 300, 316
Abū ‘Inān 211 Aḥmadī Mosque, the 253, 254, 297
Abū Lū‘lū‘ah 8 ‘Akā’ id al-Aḍudiyya, al- (al-Ījī) 255
Abū Salīm 211 Akhbār al-zamān (al-Mas‘ūdī) 103
Abū Yūsuf 43, 47 A’lā, Abū Kurayb Muḥammad ibn al- 86
INDEX 337
alchemy 15, 28, 102, 123 Aquinas, Thomas 111, 113, 157, 161
Aleppo 96, 180 ‘Arabī, Muḥy al-Dīn ibn 22, 34, 157,
Alexandria 191, 257, 260 161, 164-169, 191, 222, 230
Algeria 288-291 Arabia 66, 102, 103, 241
Algiers 288 Arabic language 52, 75, 171, 197, 205,
‘Alī, al-Mutawakkil b. Aḥmad b. 249- 228, 253, 266, 284, 315
250 Arafat, Mount viii
‘Alī, Zayd b. 29, 40 Aral Sea 116
Aligarh University 183 Arberry, A.J. 142
Alighieri, Dante 113, 161, 169 ‘Arif, Ibn al- 165
Allāh (God) vii, 20, 33, 62, 67n.8, 76, 98, Aristotle 76, 96, 97, 110-111, 119-120,
112, 134, 142-143, 153-154, 168, 127n.21, 151, 157, 158, 210, 315,
180-181, 184, 185, 187, 207, 325
219, 222, 236, 284 Armenia 102, 165, 278
Allāh, al-Qā’im Bi-Amr 131, 133 ‘Āṣ, ‘Amr ibn al- 6, 14
Almeria 164, 165 ‘aṣabiyya (group feeling) 212
Almohad dynasty 157-158, 161, 164 Asad, Fāṭima bint 10
Almoravid dynasty 157, 161 Asad, Muhammad 72
Alphabet of Communism (Bukharin) 272 Asadī, Musaddad b. Musarhad al- 64
Alphabet of Islam (Bigiyev) 272 Asadī, Taqī al-Dīn al- 123
Alṭāf al-Quds (Shāh Walī Allāh) 235 ʿAsākir, Baha al-Dīn ibn ʿAlī ibn al-
A‘mash, Sulaymān b. Mihrān al- 33 Ḥasan ibn 171
Ambre chaude de l-Islam, L’ (Eberhardt) Aṣbaḥī, Mālik b. Anas al- 27, 43, 45-50,
289 52, 54, 59, 63, 69, 299, 300
American Continent: discovery of 121- Ash‘arī, Abū Mūsā al- 6, 14, 46, 67n.5
122 Ash‘arites 112, 113, 148, 151, 175, 190,
‘Āmidī, Sayf al-Dīn ibn ʿAlī ibn Abū 192, 200, 256
ʿAlī ibn Muḥammad al- 171 Ashi‘ ‘at al-lama‘āt (Jāmī) 230
Amīr, Muḥammad b. Ismā‘īl al- 247 Ashtar, Mālik al- 15
‘Amr ibn al-‘Āṣ, mosque of 173 ‘Āshūr, Muḥammad al-Ṭāhir ibn 283-287
Amrullah, Abdul Karim b. 321-322 Asia 121
Amul 85, 92n.6 As’ila wal-ajwiba, al- (al-Bīrūnī) 119
Anas, Naḍr b. 45-46 ‘Āṣim, Abū Bakr ibn 206
Anatolia 165, 241 ‘Āṣim, Abū Yaḥya ibn 206
Andalus, al- 139-141, 157, 164-165, Asqalan 51, 86, 92n.19
204-205 astrolabe, the 122
Andalusī, Yaḥyā ibn Yaḥyā ibn Kathīr astronomy 108, 117, 120-123, 277
ibn Waslās al-Laithī al- 48 Atatürk, Mustafa Kemal 182, 278-279
Ankara 280 Āthār al-bāqiyya ‘an al-qurūn al-
Ankara, University of 114 khāliyya, al- (al-Bīrūnī) 117, 119
Anṣār (the Helpers) 11, 12 ‘Aṭṭār, Farīd al-Dīn 181
Anshari, Isa 324 Auda, Jasser 134-135, 145n.21, 285, 287
anthropology 124-125 Augustine, St. 210, 315
Anwāʿ fī ʿilm al-tawḥīd (al-Sulāmī) 174 Auvergne, William of 111
Apanay Religious School 270 Averroes, see Qurtubī, Abū Walīd ibn
‘aqīda (Islamic creed) 190, 197, 200 Rushd al-
‘Aqīda al-wāsiṭiyya, al- (Ibn Taymiyyah) Avicenna, see Sīnā, Abū ‘Alī ibn
191 Avicenna Medical College 114
‘aql (human intelligence) 65, 76, 149, Awām, Zubayr ibn al- 8, 13, 14
182, 184 ‘Awf, ‘Abd al-Raḥmān ibn 4, 8, 13
Awrangabad 314 Berlin 272, 278

A‘yan, Zurāra b. 32 Bible: traditions of 104
Ayyūb, Mālik al-Ṣāliḥ Najm al-Dīn bid’a (innovation) 190, 194, 206, 207,
172-173 301-302, 318
Ayyūbid dynasty 172 Bidāya wal-nihāya, al- (Ibn Kathīr) 193
Azerbaijan 102 Bidāyat al-mujtahid wa nihāyat al-
Azhar, al- 253, 254-257, 259-260, 261, muqtaṣid (Ibn Rushd) 159-160
298, 321 Bigiyev, Musa Jarullah 270-276
Aẓm, As‘ad Pāshā al- 242 Bihrīz, Ḥabīb b. 77
Billāh, al-Musta’ṣim 189
Billāh, Mustaẓir 149
Bādis, ‘Abd al-Ḥamīd ibn 290 Billāh, Qādir 131-132
Baghdad 41, 52, 55, 58, 59, 62, 66, 74, Birī, Abū ‘Abd Allāh Muḥammad al- 205
79, 82, 85, 87, 96, 101, 131, 132, Bīrūnī, Abū al-Rayhān al- 103, 111,
149, 151, 152, 165, 179, 180, 114-128
189, 219, 222 Bistāmī, al- 225n.25
Baghdādī, Junayd al- 225n.25 Bitlis 277
Bahā’ī, the 300 Bodleian Library, the 106n.4
Bājja, Abū Bakr ibn 158 Bolsheviks, the 271
Bakar, Osman 95 Bougie 211
Balkh 108 Bourguiba, Habib 283
Bangladesh 316 Boutros-Ghali, Boutros 161-162
Bannā, Ḥasan al- 291, 313 Brabant, Siger of 161
Baqī, ‘Abd Allāh al- 132 Braginsky, V. 220
Bāqir, Muḥammad al- 29, 31, 32, 40 Britain 127n.35, 257, 272, 309
Baring, Evelyn (Lord Cromer) 259 Brockelmann, C. 142
Barla 279 Bu-Alī Sīnā University 114
Barus 219 Buddhism 183, 228
Bashār Bundār, Muḥammad b. 81, 86 Buffalo 317
Bashīr, Hushaym ibn 59 Bukhara 69, 108-109, 116, 270, 304
Basīṭ al-qawl fī aḥkām sharā‘i’ al-Islām Bukhārī, Muḥammad ibn Ismāʿīl al- 30,
(al-Ṭabarī) 90 69-73, 80-81
Basra 6, 7, 14, 22, 40, 59, 74, 79, 86, 132 Bulgars, the 102
Basra, Gulf of 103 Bunut Payung 265
Basran School, the 6 Burdur 279
Baṣrī, al-Ḥasan al- 65 burhān (logical demonstration) 141
Basyūnī, Muḥammad al- 254 Burhānpūrī, Muḥammad ibn Faḍlillāh
Batiniyya 192 al- 221
Bayānī, Abū ‘Abd Allāh al- 206 Buwayhid dynasty 109
Bayhaqī, al-Ḥāfiẓ al- 31 Būyid Emirs, the 132, 134-136
Bayrūtī, al-‘Abbās ibn al-Walīd ibn Byzantine Empire x, 102, 103
Mazyad al-‘Udhrī al- 86
Bayt al-Ḥikmah (House of Wisdom) 74
bayt al-māl (early Islamic treasury) 7 Cabot, John 122
Bazzār, Aḥmad ibn Salama al- 82 Cairo 75, 170, 173, 191, 211, 254, 259,
Bedouin, the 211, 212 260, 272, 288, 297-298
Beirut 86, 258, 271 Cairo, University of 298
Benha 259 California Los Angeles, University of
Bennabi, Malik 288-296 330
Berbers, the 140, 164, 211 Cambodia 265
INDEX 339
Camel, Battle of 14, 22 Dawla, ‘Alā’ al- 109

capitalism 304 Dawla, Majd al- 109
Caspian Sea 66, 92n.6, 102 Dawla, Sayf al- 96
Caucasus, the 103 Dawla, Shams al- 109
Chalabi, Ḥusām al-Dīn 182 Dawwānī, al-Jalāl al- 255
Chaldea 104 Delhi, Old 315
Cheka, the 272 Deobandi, the 315, 329
Chicago, University of 331 Dhahabī, Muḥammad ibn Aḥmad al-
China x, 44, 102, 103, 104, 228, 230, 161, 192, 193, 199
240, 272 Dhayl al-Mudhayyal (al-Ṭabarī) 91
Chinese language 228, 229 dhikr (ritualised remembrance of Allāh)
Chishti, the 314 181, 199, 221
Christian Youth Organisation, the 290 Dhuhlī, Muḥammad ibn Yaḥyā al- 80
Christianity xi, 96, 104, 142, 193, 260, Dihlawī, Shāh Walī Allāh al- 234-239
326; Nestorian ix; philosophy Dīnār, ‘Amir ibn 47
and 111, 113 diraya (opinion-orientated tafsīr) 157-
Columbus, Christopher 122 158, 325
Communism 305 Diyānāt al-qadīma (Abū Zahra) 298
Companions, the, see Ṣaḥāba Djambek, Saadoe’ddin 325
Conditions de la Renaissance, Les Duqduq, ‘Abd Allāh 29, 35n.3
(Bennabi) 291 Durant, William 119
Confucianism 227, 228-231 Durham, University of 329
Confucius 229 Durr al-Mukhtār, al- (al-Haṣkafī) 240
Constantine 288, 289 Durus al-Kenaliah (Kenali) 266
Constantinople, see Istanbul Dutton, Yasin 160
Copernicus 123
Corbin, Henri 167
Ecole des Langues Orientales, L’ 290
Cordoba 139, 157, 161, 165
Economic System of Islam (Mawdudi)
Cordoba, Fāṭima of 165
316
Cruel, Pedro el 211
education 182, 259-260, 261, 273, 278,
Crusades, the 172, 179, 180, 189
305, 331; Chinese Muslim 228;
Malay pondok system 265-266,
Daesh, see Islamic State of Iraq and 268-269
Syria Egypt 6, 15, 79, 86-87, 96, 102, 103,
Dallal, Ahmad 120 165, 169, 171, 172-173, 189, 211,
Damascus 6, 96, 165, 170, 172, 180, 241, 257-258, 259, 270-271, 273,
188-189, 190, 191, 192, 194, 291, 297
197, 240-242, 244, 271 Egyptian School, the 6
Danishnama-yi ‘Ala’i (Ibn Sīnā) 109, Emirdağ 279
151 Enneads (Plotinus) 76
Daoism 228 Europe 44, 77, 103, 104, 110-111, 113,
Dār al-Arqam 4 121, 122, 151, 160, 161, 166,
Dār al-‘Ulūm 257, 297 215, 242, 258-259, 260, 272,
Dar’ al-ta‘āruḍ al-‘aql wa-l-naql (Ibn 273; ‘Age of Discover’ xi;
Taymiyyah) 192 colonialism and 257-258, 274,
Dārimī, al- 67n.8 289, 307, 313
Daula, Jalāl al- 132
Daula, Mu’izz al- 136n.9
Fadā’iḥ al-bātaniyya wa fadā’il al-
Davies, John 224n.3
mustazhiriyya (al-Ghazālī) 149
Faḍā’il (al-Ṭabarī) 90 Furūsiyya, al- (Ibn Qaiyyim) 200-201

Faillite morale de la politique Fustat (old Cairo) 55
occidentale en orient, La (Riza) Fuṣūṣ al-ḥikam (Ibn ‘Arabī) 166
289 Futūḥāt al-Makiyya (Ibn ‘Arabī) 22,
Fairūzābādī, Abū al-Ṭāhir al- 199 165-166
Fakhruddin, H. 322 Fuyūḍ al-Ḥaramayn (Shāh Walī Allāh)
Fakhry, Majid 95 234-235
falṣafa, see philosophy
Falṣafa Arisṭuṭālīs (al-Fārābī) 97
Gabriel, angel, see Jibrīl
Fanon, Frantz 306-307, 309
Gadhafi, Muammar 299
Fanṣūrī, Ḥamza b. ‘Abd Allāh al- 220-
Galenus, Aelius 110-111
221
Galileo 122
Fansuri, Hamzah al- 219-226, 324
Gaozong Emperor, the 231n.3
Fansuri, Hasan al- 221
gedimu (traditional Chinese Islam) 227-
Fārābī, Abū Naṣr al- 77, 95-100, 111,
229
112, 113
geology 123
Farḥūn, Ibn 161
Ghadir Khum 89-90
Farqu bayna al-islām wa al-imān, al-
Ghazālī, Abū Ḥāmid al- 65, 75, 113,
(al-Sulāmī) 174
145n.21 148-156, 207, 325
Fatani, Shaykh al- 264
Ghaznavid dynasty 109
Fatāwā (al-Ajfān) 207
Ghazni 117-118
Fatḥ al-bārī sharḥ ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī (al-
Ghazni, Maḥmūd of 109, 132
‘Asqalānī) 72
Gibran, Khalil 289
Fatḥ al-qadīr (al-Shawkānī) 247
Gleaves, Robert 28
Fāṭima (daughter of Muḥammad) 10, 11,
Gnosticism 36n.8
12, 16n.3, 136n.9
God, see Allāh
Fatimah Fatimah ast (Shariati) 306
Goldziher, Ignaz 142
fatwa (legal opinion) 6
Gospels, the 119
Fatwā Ḥamawiyya al-kubrā (Ibn
Granada 204-205
Taymiyyah) 190
Greece 103, 104
Fawz al-kabīr fī uṣūl al-tafsīr, al- (Shāh
Guangzhou 231n.3
Walī Allāh) 235
Guillot, C. 220-221
Fez 205, 211
Gülan, Fethullah 281
Fi-he Ma Fih (Rūmī) 182
Gurvitch, Max 306
Finland 272, 273
Gutas, D. 77
fiqh 6, 15, 32, 48, 59, 65, 84, 102, 108,
151, 159-160, 170, 175-177, 180,
193, 197, 205, 230, 235, 240, Haddad, as-Sayyid Alwi bin Tahir al- 326
270, 297, 314, 315 hadith 41, 43, 47, 59, 63-65, 66n.1, 69-
Firabrī, Muḥammad ibn Yūsuf al- 70, 72, 72, 79-82, 84, 90-91, 96, 174,
73n.6 175, 177, 200, 205, 247-248,
Firdaws al-ḥikma (Rabbān) 87 270, 284, 297, 299, 314, 315;
First World War 278, 289 transmission of 59-60
Fitna, the First 13, 28 Ḥaḍramaut, the 210
Flew, Anthony 108 Ḥaḍramīs, the 223
Flint, Robert 210 Ḥafṣid dynasty 211
Four Basic Quranic Terms (Mawdudi) Hajar al-Asqalānī, Ibn 5
316 Haji Abdul Malik Karim Amrullah, see
France 290 Hamka
furū‘ al-dīn 229-230 Hajj (pilgrimage to Makkah) 8, 89, 152,
INDEX 341
165, 190, 205, 241, 264, 271 Hinduism 104, 124-125, 183
Ḥakam, Hishām b. al- 33 Hippocrates 110
Ḥalabī, Sa‘īd al- 240 Ḥirā, cave of vii
Ḥallāj, al- 225n.25 Hishām II (Umayyad caliph, al-Andalus)
Hamah 190 140
Hamdan 109-110 Histoire sociale de l’humanite, L’
Ḥamdūn, Ḥamdān ibn 87-88 (Courtellemont) 289
Hamid, E.A. 134 historiography 124-125, 213
Hamid, Engku Mudo Abdul 322 ḥiyal (legal artifices) 199-200
Hamka (Haji Abdul Malik Karim Hizb al-wiqāya (Ibn ‘Arabī) 167
Amrullah) 321-327 Homer 113
Hammām, ‘Abd al-Razzāq b. 59 Homs 6, 86, 92n.17
Ḥammūyya, Sa’d al-Dīn 230 Horace 113
Ḥanafī School, the 30, 41-44, 51, 54, 84, Houssein-e-Ershad 308-309
85, 109, 206, 240, 242-243 How Do We Think? (Dewy) 289
Ḥanbal, ‘Abd Allāh ibn Aḥmad ibn 60 Hu Dengzhou 228
Ḥanbal, Aḥmad ibn 53, 58-68, 79, 85, 89, Hudhayl, tribe of 52
195, 284, 299 Hui, the 227, 231n.3
Ḥanbalī, Ibn Rajab al- 199 Ḥujjat Allāh al-bāligha (Shāh Walī
Ḥanbalī School, the 58, 61, 65-66, 77, Allāh) 235
84, 88, 89, 188, 193, 197, 198, Human Rights in Islam (Mawdudi) 316
227; ḥashwiyya 66 Hurmuz, Ibn 46
Hantama, Umm ‘Abd Allāh bint 4 Ḥusayn, al- (grandson of Muḥammad)
Ḥaqā’iq al-tafsīr (al-Sulamī) 36n.11 10, 16n.2, 29
ḥaqīqa 229 Ḥuyyay, Ṣafiya bint (wife of
Harran 188 Muḥammad) 21
Ḥasan, al- (grandson of Muḥammad) 10, Hyderabad 315
16n.2, 28-29 Hypocrites, the, see Munāfiqūn
Hasan, Sayyid Ahmad 314-315
Ḥasanids 29
IAIS Malaysia xiii
Hāshimites 10, 29, 41, 52
ibāḥa (original permissibility) 196
Ḥāshiyya ‘alā sharḥ al-Dawwānī li al-
Ibn Sīnā Academy of Medieval Medicine
‘aqā’id al-‘Aḍudiyya (‘Abduh)
and Sciences 114
255-256
Ibn Sīnā Balkh Medical School 114
Ḥāshiyya Ibn ‘Ābidīn (Ibn ‘Ābidīn) 242
Ibn Sīnā Tajik State Medical University
Hawary, Hassan Mohammad el- 220
114
Ḥaylān, Yūḥannā ibn 96
Ibrāhīm (prophet) xiv, 181, 281
Ḥayyān, Jābir b. 28
Ibrāhīm (son of Muḥammad) 21
Ḥazm, Abū Muḥammad ‘Alī ibn 139-
Ibrāhīm, Ḥafiẓ 289
147, 299
Ibrahimov, ‘Abd al-Rashid 271
Hidayah, al- (magazine) 267, 268
Ibsen, Hendrik 325
Hijaz, the xvi, 52, 59, 69, 273, 284, 302
Idrīs (prophet) 236
Hijra, the viii, 7, 11, 309
Ighāthat al-lahfān min maṣāyid al-
Hijra Shawkan 246
Shayṭān (Ibn Qaiyyim) 200
Hijrī calendar 7
Iḥkām fī uṣūl al-aḥkām, al- (Ibn Ḥazm)
Hikayat Raja Pasai 223
142
Ḥilya al-abdāl (Ibn ‘Arabī) 167
Iḥṣā’ al-‘ulūm (al-Fārābī) 96
Ḥimmānī, Yaḥyā bin ‘Abd al-Ḥamīd
Iḥyā’ ‘ulūm al-dīn (al-Ghazālī) 152-153,
al- 31
225n.25
Hindī, Ṣafī al-Dīn al- 198
ijmā‘ (scholarly consensus) 30, 54, 55, Iqtisād fī l-i‘tiqād, al- (al-Ghazālī) 151
64, 235, 241, 248-249 Iran 58, 113, 169, 241, 272, 307-308;
ijtihād (independent legal reasoning) xii, Islamic Revolution of 304, 308,
5, 39, 40, 42, 48-49, 53, 54, 55, 309
59, 60, 61, 65, 66n.1, 71, 88, 134, Iraq 6, 27, 29, 53, 59, 61, 69, 154, 165,
141, 145n.21, 159, 195, 206, 207, 241, 272
242-244, 246, 248-250, 255-257, Irshād al-fuḥūl ilā taḥqīq al-ḥaqq min
259, 260, 273, 274, 284-285, ‘ilm al-uṣūl (al-Shawkānī) 247,
287, 299, 308, 325, 329, 332 249
Ijtimā‘ al-juyūsh al-Islāmiyya ‘alā irtifāqāt (the supports of civilisation)
ghazwi al-Mu‘aṭṭila wal- 236-237, 238-239
Jahmiyya (Ibn Qaiyyim) 200 ‘Īsā 193
ikhtilāf (scholarly disagreement) 159-160 Isfahan 109, 149
Ikhtilāf al-ḥadīth (al-Shāfi‘ī) 55 Isḥāq (prophet) xiv, 142-143
Ikhwān al-Muslimūn (Muslim Isḥāq, Muḥammad ibn 85, 101
Brotherhood) 291, 299, 314 ISIS, see Islamic State of Iraq and Syria
I‘lām al-muwaqqi‘īn ‘an Rabb al- iṣlāḥ (reform) xii, 190, 195-196, 234,
‘Ālamīn (Ibn Qayyim) 200 238-239, 244, 258-261, 270,
Iljam al-‘awāmm ‘an ‘ilm al-kalām (al- 272-274, 277, 283, 287, 289-291,
Ghazālī) 151 292-293, 294, 307-308, 309, 317-
‘ilm al-‘umrān (science of civilisation) 318, 322, 328-329, 331
211-212 Islam 77, 105, 125-126, 141, 142, 158,
‘ilm asrār al-dīn (science of the subtle 167, 168, 183, 193, 195, 229,
meanings of religion) 234, 235 236, 274, 275, 279, 286, 292,
‘Imād, Ibn al- 161 305, 308, 313; revelation of vii-
Imam, al- (magazine) 268 ix; spread of x, 231n.3, 238, 244;
īmān (faith) 33-34, 44n.1 value of knowledge within x
‘Imrān, Maryam bint (mother of ‘Īsā) Islam (Rahman) 329
143 Islam and Modernity (Rahman) 331
India 44, 102, 103, 104, 117, 168, 183, Islam dan Demokrasi (Hamka) 323
223, 239, 240, 250, 271, 272, Islamic economics 313
273, 316 Islamic Inquisition, see Miḥna
Indonesia xi, 102, 113, 265, 272, 321, Islamic jurisprudence, see fiqh
322, 323, 326 Islamic Law and Constitution (Mawdudi)
Indonesian-Malaysia Confrontation 324 316
Indonesian National Revolution 323, 325 Islamic Methodology in History
Inṣāf fī bayān sabab al-ikhtilāf, al- (Shāh (Rahman) 329, 331
Walī Allāh) 235 Islamic Research Institute (Islamabad)
Insān al-kāmil, al- (the Perfect Man) 182 329
Insannarning ‘Aqidah Ilahiyatlarene Ber Islamic Research Institute (Karachi) 329,
Nazar (Bigiyev) 273 330
Inshā’ al-dawā’ir (Ibn ‘Arabī) 167 Islamic State of Iraq and Syria 181
Iqāmat al-dalīl ‘alā ibṭāl al-taḥlīl (Ibn Islamism 312-313, 316-317
Qaiyyim) 199 Ismā‘īl (prophet) xiv
Iqbal, Muhammad 183, 234, 308, 313, Ismāʿīl, Mālik al-Ṣāliḥ ʿImād al-Dīn
331 172-173
ʿIqd al-jīd fī aḥkām al-ijtihād wa al- Ismail, Nik Mahmud 264-265
taqlīd (Shāh Walī Allāh) 235 isnād (chain of transmission) 70, 71, 80,
Iqtiḍā’ ṣirāṭ al-mustaqīm (Ibn 82
Taymiyyah) 195 Isparta 281
INDEX 343
Iṣṭakhrī, Abū Sa’īd al- 86 jihād (holy struggle) 182, 194, 196, 316,
Istanbul 102, 103, 243, 270, 274, 278, 331; çihad-i mânavî 279-281
280 Jihād fī al-Islām (Mawdudi) 312, 315
istiḥsān (juristic preference) 39, 42, 43, Jilānī, ‘Abdul Qādir al- 277
54, 59, 66n.1, 141 Jīlī, ‘Abd al-Karīm al- 222
istiṣlāḥ (public interest) 48-49 Jining 228
istiṣqā 285-286 Johor 326
Ju‘fī, al-Mufaḍḍal al- 31-32
Jurjan 82, 117
Jabal, Mu‘ādh ibn 286
Juwaynī, al-Ḥaramayn Ḍiā‘ al-Dīn al-
Jabhat al-Nusra 181
65, 148, 207
Jadd, Ibn Rushd al- 157
Ja‘farī School, the 27
jahiliyya (Age of Ignorance) 292 Ka‘aba 10, 12
Jahmiyya 200 Kabul 272
Jahsh, Zaynab bint (wife of Muḥammad) Kāfiya al-shāfiya fī intiṣār al-firqa al-
21 nājiya, al- (Ibn Qaiyyim) 200
Jakarta 323, 326 Kaifeng 228
Jakarta Charter, the 324 kalām (theology) 15, 32, 40, 102, 111,
Jalāl, al-Ḥasan b. Aḥmad b. al- 247 112, 151, 154, 174, 180, 190,
Jama‘at al-Qur’an 300 197, 205, 258, 270, 297, 315, 329
Jamaat-e-Islami 314, 316 Kalus, L. 220-221
Jam‘ bayn al-ṣaḥīḥayn, al- (al-Ḥumaydī) Kamāl fī asmā’ al-rijāl, al- (al-Maqdīsī)
188 193
Jāmī, ‘Abd al-Raḥmān 222 Kampung Kenali 264
Jāmi’ fī al-qirā’āt, al- (al-Ṭabarī) 91 Kampung Molek 321
Jāmi‘ li-‘ulūm Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal, al- Kampung Oboh 221
(al-Khallāl) 66 Kampung Paya 264
Jamiat, al- (newspaper) 315 Kampung Sireh 265
Jami’yat al-‘ulamā’ 290 Kanayyisat Adrin 253, 254
Jam’iyya al-‘Ashriyya 268 Kanun-e Nashr-e Haqayeq-e Eslami 305
Japan 268, 272 Karbalā’ 29
Jarḥ wa al-ta’dīl, al- (Ibn Abī Ḥātim) 81 Kashf al-ghiṭā’ ‘an ḥukm sam‘ al-ghinā
Jarīrī School, the 84, 87, 91 (Ibn Qaiyyim) 201
Jarrāḥ, al-Wakī‘ b. al- 59 Kashmir 316
Jasin, H.B. 326 Kastamonu 279
Jawāb al-ṣaḥīḥ li-man baddala Dīn al- Kath 116-117
Masīḥ, al- (Ibn Taymiyyah) 193 Kathīr, Ismā’īl ibn 12, 90, 193, 199
Jawālīqī, Hishām b. Sālim al- 32 Kaum Muda (Young Clan) 322, 326
Jawhar, Fāṭima bint 198 Kaum Tua (Old Clan) 322
Jawzaqī, Abū Bakr al- 80 Kawākibī, ‘Abd al-Raḥmān al- 292
Jawzī, Muḥyī al-Dīn al- 201n.1 Kawkabānī, ‘Abd al-Qādir b. Aḥmad
Jawziyya, Ibn Qaiyyim al- 193, 194, al- 247
197-203 Kayqubād, ‘Alā’ al-Dīn 180
Jeffery, Arthur 125 Kāzarūnī, Muḥammad ibn Mas‘ūd al-
Jerusalem 194 229
Jesuits, the 228 Kāẓim, Mūsā al- 32
Jesus, see ‘Īsā Kelantan 264-265
Jews, the ix, xiv, 104, 142, 260, 302 Kenali, Tok (Muhammad Yusof) 264-269
Jibrīl, angel vii, 97, 143 Khāḍir, Shaykh Darwīsh 253-254
Khafīf, ‘Alī al- 298 Kitāb al-awsaṭ (al-Mas‘ūdī) 103

Khafīf fī aḥkām sharā’i‘ al-Islām, al- (al- Kitāb al-fiṣal fī al-milal wa al-ahwā’ wa
Ṭabarī) 91 al-niḥal (Ibn Ḥazm) 142
Khair Allah, ‘Abduh ibn Ḥasan 252-253 Kitāb al-ḥudūd (al-Kindī) 75
Khaldūn, ‘Abd al-Raḥmān ibn 99, 101, Kitāb al-ḥurūf (al-Fārābī) 96
103, 134, 137n.24, 205, 208, Kitāb al-‘ibar (Ibn Khaldūn) 210, 211
210-216, 288 Kitāb al-iqnā‘ (al-Māwardī) 132
Khaldūn, tribe of 210 Kitāb al-i’tiṣām (al-Shāṭibī) 206
Khālid, Abū Thawr Ibrāhīm b. 63 Kitāb al-jadal (al-Fārābī) 96
Khaliq Nazarina Bernicha Mas’ala Kitāb al-jam’ bayn ra’yay al-ḥakīmayn
(Bigiyev) 272 Aflāṭūn al-ilāhī wa Arisṭuṭālīs
Khallāf, ‘Abdul Wahāb 298 (al-Fārābī) 97
Khallāl, Abū Bakr al- 63, 65-66, 67n.7 Kitāb al-jamāhir fī ma’rifat al-jawāhir
Khan, Abdul Ghaffar 280 (al-Bīrūnī) 123
Khan, Ayub 329 Kitāb al-kashf ‘an manāhij al-adilla (Ibn
Khan, Muḥammad Ḥamidullāh 272 Rushd) 158
Khan, Syed Ahmad 183 Kitāb al-kullīyyāt fī al-ṭibb (Ibn Rushd)
Khāqānī, Ubaydallāh ibn Yaḥyā al- 86, 158
87 Kitāb al-majālis (al-Shāṭibī) 206
kharaj (land taxation) 7 Kitāb al-muhallā bi‘l athār (Ibn Ḥazm)
Kharijites 14-15, 40, 44n.1, 301, 302 142
Khaṭīb, Ibn al- 205, 207 Kitāb al-mūsīqā (al-Fārābī) 96
Khatibul Ummah (Hamka) 323 Kitāb al-shifā’ (Ibn Sīnā) 112
Khaṭṭāb 3 Kitāb al-tamyīz (Muslim) 80
Khaṭṭāb, ‘Umar b. al- ix, 3-9, 13, 89, 90, Kitāb al-tanbīh wal-ishrāf (al-Mas‘ūdī)
252 170-171
Khawārij, see Kharijites Kitāb al-Umm (al-Shāfi‘ī) 35n.6, 55
Khaybar, Battle of 11 Kitāb al-wizāra’ (al-Māwardī) 133
Khayr al-Kathīr, al- (Shāh Walī Allāh) Kitāb al-Zuhd (Ibn Ḥanbal) 65
235 Kitab Bonang 223
Khayyām, ‘Umar 113 Kitāb faṣl al-maqāl 158
Khazars, the 102 Kitāb fī taḥqīq mā li-‘l-Hind (al-Bīrūnī)
Khedivial School of Languages 257 124-125
Khiraqī, Abū al-Qāsim al- 66 Kitāb ikhtilāf ‘ulamā’ al-amṣār fī aḥkām
Khomeini, Ruhollah 308, 309, 313 sharā‘i’ al-Islām (al-Ṭabarī) 89
Khujandī, al- 117 Konya 180, 181, 281
Khūlī, ‘Abdul ‘Azīz al- 298 Koran, see Qur’an
Khurasan 43, 59, 69, 79, 109, 132, 148, Korea 102
154, 179 Kosturma 278
Khuwaylid, Khadīja bint (wife of Kota Bahru 264, 268
Muḥammad) 20 Kubrawiyya, the 227, 230
Khwārizmī, al- 113 Kufa 6, 28, 31, 32, 40, 41, 59, 86
Kinda, tribe of 74 Kuran, Timur 313
Kindī, Abū Yūsuf Yaʿqūb ibn Isḥāq al- Kurds, the 279
74-78, 111, 113, 123, 150 Kushmayhānī, Abū al-Haytham al- 72
Kindī Circle, the 75, 76-77
Kitāb adab al-dunya wa al-dīn (al-
Māwardī) 133 Lahore 118, 317
Kitāb al-alfāẓ al-musta‘mala fi’l-manṭiq Lakḫmī, tribe of 204
(al-Fārābī) 96 Lancaster, Sir James 219
INDEX 345
Laṭīf al-qawl fī aḥkām sharā’i‘ al-Islām Majalla Liwāc al-Islām (magazine) 298
(al-Ṭabarī) 91 Majārī, Abū ‘Abd Allāh al- 204
Lawā’iḥ (Jāmī) 230 Majāz al-Qur’ān (al-Sulāmī) 174
Lebanon 291 Majlis Ulama Indonesia 324
Leiden, University of 207 Majmū’ al-fatāwā (Ibn Taymiyyah) 192
Lembaga Hikmat (Hamka) 326 Majmūʿat rasā’il Ibn ʿĀbidīn (Ibn
Let Us be Muslims (Mawdudi) 316 ‘Ābidīn) 243
Levant, the 14 Major Themes of the Qur’an (Rahman)
Libya 291 331
Lings, Martin ix Makassar, University of 323
Liu Hanying 228 Makhzūmī, ‘Abd Allāh al- 52
Liu Zhi 227-233 Makkah vii, x, 4, 6, 11, 12, 41, 51-52, 55,
Lubb, Abū Sa’īd ibn 205 69, 79, 165, 180, 190, 200, 219,
Lucan 113 221, 222, 234-235, 264, 271, 322
mala’ al-a‘lā, al- (Highest Council of
Angels) 237
Mabādi’ ārā’ ahl al-madīna al-fāḍila (al-
Malay Peninsula, the 102, 264
Fārābī) 96
Malaya 264, 268
Madārij al-sālikīn (Ibn Taymiyyah) 193
Malaysia 268, 313, 324
Madārij al-sālikīn bayna manāzil iyyaka
Mālik, Anas b. 6
na‘budu wa iyyaka nasta‘īn (Ibn
Mālikī School, the 30, 42, 48, 84, 86,
Qaiyyim) 198, 199
141, 157, 159, 204, 207, 211, 300
Madrasa al-Jawziyya 197, 198, 201n.1
Ma’mum, ‘Alī ibn 117
Madrasa al-Ṣadriyya 199
Ma’mūn, al- 60, 74
Madrasa Ḥanbaliyya 190
Manār, al- (magazine) 206
Madrasa Husainiyya 273
Manār al-munīf fī al-ṣaḥīḥ wal-da’īf, al-
Madrasa Kul Buye 270
(Ibn Qaiyyim) 200
Madrasa Muḥammad ‘Atif Barkāt 297
Manāsik al-Ḥajj (Ibn Taymiyyah) 190
Madrasa Nizāmiyya 149, 150, 154,
Manāzil al-sāírīn (al-Harawī) 198
155n.3
Manfalūṭī, Muṣṭafā Luṭfī al- 289
Madrasa Raḥīmiyya 234
Manichaeanism 36n.8, 104
Madrasah Muhammadiyyah 268
Mansur, A.R. Sutan 322
Madinah viii, ix, 6, 11, 29, 30, 45, 46, 47,
Manṣūr, Abū Ja‘far al- 27, 29-30, 39,
52, 70, 234-235, 271, 302
41, 47
Madinah, Mosque of 23
Manṣūr, Abū Naṣr 117, 119
Madīnī, ‘Alī b. al- 69
Manṣūr, Nūḥ ibn 109
Madinī, Muḥammad al- 253
Mansura 220-221
mafsada (harm) 170, 175-176
manṭiq (logic) 314, 315
Magnus, Albert 111
Maqassari, Muhammad Yusuf al- 223
Mahabharata, the 271
Maqāṣid al-falāsifa (al-Ghazālī) 151
Mahalla al-Kubra 297
Maqāṣid al-ḥajj (al-Sulāmī) 176
Mahallat Nasr 252-253, 257
Maqāṣid al-ṣalāḥ (al-Sulāmī) 176
Maḥḍ, ‘Abd Allāh al- 29
Maqāṣid al-ṣaum (al-Sulāmī) 176
Maḥḍ, Muḥammad b. ‘Abd Allāh al- 29-
maqāṣid al-sharī‘a (higher objectives
30, 41
of Sharia) 141, 160, 170, 172,
mahdī, the 29-30
175-176, 204, 206-208, 237, 284,
Mahdī, ‘Abd al-Raḥmān ibn al- 55
285-286, 287
Mahmanabadi, Allamah 310n.5
Maqāṣid al-Sharī‘a al-Islāmiyya (Ibn
Maḥmūd, ‘Abdul Halīm 298
‘Āshūr) 283
Ma‘īn, Yaḥyā ibn 59, 61
Maqbālī, Ṣāliḥ b. Mahdī al- 247
Maqdisī, Sulaymān Taqī al-Dīn ibn Taymiyyah) 192

Qudāma al- 198 Mir Islama (magazine) 274
Maqqarī, Abū ‘Abd Allāh al- 205 Mirṣād al-‘ibād min al-mabda’ ila’l-
Maqsad-i aqsā (al-Nasafī) 230 ma‘ād (al-Rāzī) 230
Marbawi, Idris al- 266, 269n.4 Mishkāt al-anwār (al-Ghazālī) 153-154
Marinide dynasty 205, 211 Mishkāt al-anwār (Ibn ‘Arabī) 167
Marrakesh 161 Mīzān al-‘amal (al-Ghazālī) 151
Marshena, Yasmin of 165 Mizzī, Yūsuf ibn al-Zakī ‘Abd al-
Marv 109 Raḥmān al- 193, 198
Marxism 304, 307, 315 Moestopo, University of 321
Mas’ada, Ḥumayd ibn 86 Mongols, the 179, 180, 188, 189, 194
Masarra, Ibn 165 Morocco xi, 313
Mashhad 304, 305 Mosaddeq, Mohammad 306
Mashhad, University of 306, 307 Mosaddeqist Movement, the 306
Masjid al-Ḥarām 55, 264 Mu‘āwiyya, ‘Abd Allāh b. 29
maṣlaḥa (individual or public benefit) Mu‘āwiyya, Yazīd ibn 29
42, 54, 170, 175-176, 206-207, Mubārak, ‘Abd Allāh b. al- 63, 69
235, 239 Mubārak, ‘Alī Pāshā 257
Masnavi (Rūmī) 179, 181, 182, 183, 184 Muda, Iskandar 219
Masqawi, Omar 291 Mudawwana (Ibn al-Qāsim) 159
Massignon, Louis 306 Mughals, the 234, 314
Mas‘ūd, ‘Abd Allāh ibn 101 Muḥabbar, Dāwūd b. al- 65
Mas‛ūdī, Abū al-Ḥasan al- 101-107 Muḥāḍarāt fī nasraniyya (Abū Zahra)
mathematics 102, 108, 240, 254, 277, 298
314 Muhājirūn (migrants from Makkah to
Māturidī theology 43, 192 Madinah) 11, 12
Mawaraennahr 273 Muḥammad (prophet) vii-x, 3, 11, 15,
Māwardī, Abū Ḥasan al- 131-138 19-23, 27, 34, 46, 47, 49, 54, 69,
Mawdudi, Sayyid Abul A’la al- 308, 85, 103, 112, 134, 145n.21, 185,
312-320 191, 193, 235, 285, 286; alleged
Mawdudi, Sayyid Abul Khair 315 nomination of ‘Alī 12, 30, 64;
Mawhub, Ibn 289 as al-insān al-kāmil (the Perfect
Mazdakites 104 Man) 182
Mazinan 304 Muḥammad IV (Kelantan) 265
McGill University 329 Muḥammad V (Naṣrid ruler) 211
McGinnis, Jon 110 Muhammadiyyah 324
Mecca, see Makkah Muhammadiyyah University of Prof. Dr.
Medan 323 Hamka 321
medicine 74, 87, 102, 108, 110-111, 158, Muḥāsibī, al-Ḥārith al- 65
197, 201, 205, 207, 236 Mu’jizat al-Kubra al-Qur’ān, al- (Abū
Medina, see Madinah Zahra) 298
Mevlevi Order, the 181 Mulḥah fī al-iʿtiqād ahl al-ḥaq (al-
Miftāḥ dār al-sa’āda (Ibn Taymiyyah) Sulāmī) 174
193 Muljam, ‘Abd al-Raḥmān ibn 15
Miftāḥ dār al-sa‘āda wa manshūr Mulk, Fakhr al- 154
wilāyat al-‘ilm wal-írāda (Ibn Mulk, Nizām al- 149, 150
Qaiyyim) 199 Mulyono, Slamet 324
Miḥna (Islamic Inquisition) 60-61, 62, 77 Mumbai 272
Minangkabau 322 Munāfiqūn (hypocrites) 5
Minhāj al-sunna al-nabawiyya (Ibn Mundhirī, al-Hāfiz al- 171
INDEX 347
Munfaridāt wal-waḥdān, al- (Muslim) 80 Naṣīḥat al-mulūk (al-Ghazālī) 149-150

Munqidh min al-dalāl, al- (al-Ghazālī) Naṣīḥat al-mulūk (al-Māwardī) 133
150 Nasr, Sayyid Vali Reza 313
Muntaqā al-akhbār (Abū al-Barakāt ibn Nasr, Seyyed Hossein 161, 164, 166
Taymiyyah) 188, 246 Naṣrānī, ‘Assāf al- 191
Muqaddima (Ibn Khaldūn) 210, 211-213, Naṣrid dynasty 204-205, 211
215, 291 Nasser, Jamal Abdel 291, 299
Murata, S. 232n.18 nationalism 274-275, 307, 313
Murcia 164 Natsir, Mohammad 324
Murji’tes, the 39, 44n.1 Nawawī, Yaḥyā Sharaf al- 46
Murūj al-dhahab wa ma ‘ādin al-jawhar Nayl al-awṭār sharḥ muntaqā al-akhbār
(al-Mas‘ūdī) 103-104, 105 min aḥādīth Sayyid al-Akhyār
Mūsā, Mālik al-Ashrāf 172 (al-Shawkānī) 188, 246-247
Musayyab, Sa‘īd ibn al- 46 Naysabur 82
Museum of Arab Art (Cairo) 220 Negara Islam (Hamka) 323
Muslim (magazine) 315 Neo-Shariatism 309-310
Musnad Aḥmad (Ḥanbal) 19, 60, 67n.4, Nichomachean Ethics (Aristotle) 160,
71, 91, 188 162n.6
mustakhraj movement, the 82 Nichomachus 76-77
Mu‘taḍid, al- 141 Nishapur 79, 109, 148
Mu‘taṣim, al- 61, 74, 85 Nīshāpūrī, Muslim ibn al-Ḥajjāj al- 30,
Mutawakkil, al- 77 71, 79-83
Mu‘tazalites, the 33, 77, 87, 104, 112, Niyazi, ‘Abdu’ssalam 315
192, 200, 256 Novo-Cherkassk 270
Muti‘ī, Muḥammad Bakhit al- 270 Nūḥ, Manṣūr ibn 84
Muwafaqāt fī uṣūl al-sharī’a, al- (al- Nurs 277
Shāṭibī) 176, 206-207 Nursi, Bediüzzaman Said 277-282
Muwaṭṭa’, al- (Mālik) 43, 46, 47-48, 52,
63, 205, 246, 285
mysticism, see Sufism Orenburg 273
Osler, William 108
Ottomans, the 43, 240-241, 258, 278
Nablūsī, Shihāb al-Dīn al- 198 Ovid 113
Nadwi, Mohammad Akram 20 Oxford, University of 329
Nahdatul Ulama’ 324 Ozin Konnarda Ruza (Bigiyev) 273
Nahj al-Balāgha (al-Raḍī) 15
Nahrawan, Battle of 15
Nā‘īmah, ‘Abd al-Masīḥ ibn 76 Padang Panjang 322, 323
Najaf 304 Pahlavi regime, the 308
Najran ix, 52 Pakistan 183, 316, 329, 330
Nakha‛ī, Ibrāhīm al- 40 Palacious, Asin 165
Nakha‘ī, Sharīk b. ‘Abd Allāh al- 31-32 Palestine 6, 86, 103, 152, 165
Nandana 118, 121 Pancasila 324
Nanjing 227, 228, 229, 231 Parabek 322
Naqd al-manṭiq (Ibn Taymiyyah) 193 Parabek, Ibrahim Musa 322
Naqshbandiyya, the 223, 227, 234, 238, Paris 102, 258, 288, 290, 306
277, 279 Partai Masyumi 324
NASA 127n.26 Pāshā, Aḥmad ‘Urābī 257-258
Nashr al-ʿurf fī binā’ baʿḍ al-aḥkām ʿalā Pāshā, Ismā’īl (Khedive) 257
al-ʿurf (Ibn ‘Ābidīn) 243 Pāshā, Riāḍ 257
Pāshā, Tawfīq (Khedive) 257, 259
Pedoman Masyarakat (magazine) 323 Qāsim, Abū Muḥammad al- 171

Pelita Andalus (newspaper) 322 Qāsimī Imāms, the 246, 247-248, 249-
Pengasuh (magazine) 267, 268 250
Persia x, 102, 103, 104 Qaṭṭān, Yaḥyā b. Sa‘īd al- 35n.4, 59
Peshawar 272 Qawāʿid al-ahkām fī maṣālīḥ al-anām
Phenomene Coranique, Le (Bennabi) (al-Sulāmī) 175
290-291 Qawl al-mufīd fī adillat al-ijtihād wa al-
philosophy 36n.8, 74-77, 87, 95, 102, taqlīd, al- (al-Shawkānī) 248
108, 111-113, 150-152, 154, Qazan 270, 273
157-159, 160-161, 189, 193, Qazvin 109
205, 234-237, 315; Hān Kitāb Qianlong Emperor, the 230
tradition 228-231; Neo-Platonism qibla (direction of prayer): its
95, 100, 112, 219; politics and determination 123
98-99, 160-161; religion and Qibṭiya, Māriya al- 21
76, 97-98, 150-151; science and qiyās (legal analogy) 7, 39, 41, 42, 43,
118-120 53, 54, 55, 59, 60, 61, 65, 66n.1,
Pinto, Fernão Mendes 222 141, 144, 249, 284
Plato 97, 111, 113, 210, 315 Qorban-Ali, Akhond Molla 304
poetry 52, 87, 166, 183, 185, 222, Qunāwī, Ṣadr al-Dīn al- 165, 166
225n.25, 243, 267, 322, 327n.4 Qur’an, the 7, 13, 14, 19, 27, 30, 41, 43,
political Islam, see Islamism 48, 49, 54, 62, 64, 72, 76, 91,
Politics (Aristotle) 162n.6 101, 142-143, 158, 160, 175,
Pondok Kenali 266 177, 182, 184, 193, 195, 206,
Pope, Arthur 116 248, 271, 278, 299, 328-329,
post-colonialism 307 331; compilation of 6, 45; created
Posterior Analytics (Aristotle) 112 or uncreated 60-61, 80, 256;
Proclus 76 God’s speech 33; opinions of
prophecy 34, 112, 238; philosophy and ‘Umar and 5; poetry and 185;
97-98; universal nature of viii, Prophet and ix; Quraysh and
229, 236; women and 142-143 vii, 3; revelation of vii; variant
Prophecy in Islam (Rahman) 329 readings of 91
Protestant Reformation, the 273 Qurashī, Abūl Faraj ‘Abd al-Raḥmān ibn
Ptolemy 111, 121, 122 al-Jawzī al- 201n.1
Punjab University 329 Quraysh, tribe of vii, 3, 134, 137n.24,
Purdah and the Status of Women in Islam 223
(Mawdudi) 316 Qurtubī, Abū al-Walīd ibn Rushd al- 113,
157-163, 165
Qutb, Sayyid 308, 313, 331
Qa’anabī, ‘Abd Allāh ibn Maslana al- 79
Qābūs, Shams al-Ma’ālī 117
Qādiriyya, the 221, 227 Radd ‘alā al-manṭiqiyyīn, al- (Ibn
Qādiyānī, the, see Aḥmadī Taymiyyah) 191, 193
Qadiyani Problem, The (Mawdudi) 316 Raḍī, al-Sharif al- 15
Qalāwūn, Mālik al-Nāṣir 191, 194 Rāhawayh, Isḥāq b. 69, 79
qalb (heart) 182 Rahman, Fazlur 237, 328-335
Qānūn al-Mas‘ūdī, al- (al-Bīrūnī) 120- Rahmat Ilahiyye Borhannary (Bigiyev)
121 273
Qanūn fī al-ṭibb, al- (Sīnā) 110-111 Rajā’, Abū Bakr Muḥammad ibn 82
Qarakhanid dynasty 109 Ramaḍān (month of fasting) 7, 283; in
Qarmaṭis 104 the polar north 274
INDEX 349
Ramla 86, 92n.18 Sadat, Jihan al- 299

Raniri, Nur al-Din al- 222, 223 sadd al-dharā’i‘ (blocking the means)
Rashīd, Hārūn al- 33, 53 48-49, 54
ra’y, al- see ijtihād Ṣādiq, Ismā‘īl b. Ja‘far al- 35n.3
Raysūnī, Aḥmad al- 204 Ṣādiq, Ja‛far al- 27-38, 40, 46, 59, 240,
Rayy (old Tehran) 79, 85, 109, 117 300
Razak, Tun Abdul 321 Sadra, Mulla 168
Rāzī, ‘Abd Allāh Muḥammad ibn Ṣafā, Mount, 4
Ḥumayd al- 85 Saffāḥ, Abū al-‘Abbās al- 27, 39
Rāzī, Abū Ḥātim al- 79 Ṣaḥāba, the ix, 6, 14, 28, 30, 31, 49, 54,
Rāzī, Abū Zur’a al- 60, 79, 81 60, 64, 70, 80, 90, 91, 136, 192,
Rāzī, Ibn Wāra al- 81 316-317
religion 104, 236, 237-238 Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī 5, 30, 48, 67n.4, 69-72,
Renaissance, the 113, 122, 258 79, 82, 205, 246, 286
Republic (Plato) 160, 162n.6 Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim 5, 30, 67n.4, 71, 73n.3,
revelation, see waḥy 79-82, 174, 246
Revolusi Agama (Hamka) 323, 325 Said, Haji Mohamad 265
Riḍā, Rashīd 206, 208 Ṣa’īdī, ‘Abd al-Muta’āl al- 208
Rights of Non-Muslims in an Islamic Ṣā’igh, Abū Bakr Faḍl al- 82
State, The (Mawdudi) 316 Saimarī, Abū al-Qāsim al- 132
Risāla, al- (al-Shāfi‘ī) 55 Salaf, the 64, 258, 259
Risāla al-khalwa (Ibn ‘Arabī) 167 Salafism 261, 263n.55, 302
Risāla al-tawḥīd (al-Sulāmī) 174 Saliba, George 120
Risāla al-Wāridāt (‘Abduh) 255 Sallām, Abū ‘Ubayd al-Qāsim b. 63
Risāla fi’l-‘aql (al-Fārābī) 96 Samanid dynasty 43, 84, 95, 108-109,
Risālat al-tawḥīd (‘Abduh) 258-259, 116, 132
289-290, 292 Samaritans, the 104
Risale-i Nur (Nursi) 277, 279-281 Samarqand 270
riwaya (traditionally-derived tafsīr) 158, Samatrani, Shams al-Din al- 219, 223
325 Sana‘a 246
Riza, Ahmad 292 Ṣan‘ānī, ‘Abd al-Razzāq al- 70
Roem, Mohammad 324 Sanjar, Aḥmad 154
Rome 103, 104 Sanskrit 271
Rostov-on-Don 270 Sardar, Ziauddin 120
Rūmī, Jalāl al-Dīn 168, 179-186, 281 Sarekat Islam 324
Rus, the 102 Sarī, Hannād ibn al- 86
Russia 258, 270, 273-274, 278; 1905 Ṣārim al-maslūl ‘alā shātim al-Rasūl, al-
Revolution, 271; February (Ibn Taymiyyah) 191
Revolution 271; October Sarton, George 108, 116
Revolution, 271; Soviet 271-272, Sa‘ūd, Muḥammad ibn 301
274-275 Sa‘ūd, tribe of 66
Russiya Musulmannarining Ittifaqi 271 Saudi Arabia, Kingdom of 66, 291
SAVAK 309
scientific method, the 118-120
S.P., Abdullah 326
Second World War 272, 290
Sābāṭī, ‘Ammār b. Mūsā al- 32
secularism 278-279, 305, 307-308, 313,
Ṣabbāḥ, al-Ḥasan al- 149
328
Sabri, Mustafa 274
Sejarah Islam di Sumatera (Hamka) 323
Sabzevar 304
Seljuqs, the 43, 149, 155n.2
Sadat, Anwar al- 299
Seljuqs of Rūm, the 180
Semangat Islam (Hamka) 323 ‘Uthmān 14

Seville 141, 158, 164-165, 211 Sibtī, Abū al-Qāsim al-Sharīf al- 205
sextant, the 122, 127n.35 Ṣiddīq, Abū Bakr al- viii, 5, 6, 12, 19, 27,
Şeyh Said Revolt, the 279 89, 90, 201n.1
Shādhaliyya, the 253-254 Siffin, Battle of 14, 15-16
Shādhilī, Abū al-Ḥasan al- 171 Sijzī, Abū Sa’īd al- 119
Shāfiʿī, Muḥammad ibn Idrīs al- 30, 43, Siku quanshu (Complete Library of the
47, 48, 51-57, 63, 65, 71, 141, Four Sections) 230
208, 284, 299, 300 Sīnā, Abū ʿAlī ibn 77, 108-115, 119-120,
Shāfiʿī, Jamāl al-Dīn al-Harastanī al- 171 123, 150-151, 153, 325, 329
Shāfi‘ī School, the 30-31, 71, 84, 86-87, Singapore 272
104, 131, 148, 175, 223, 230, Singkili, ‘Abd al-Ra’uf al- 223
240, 247, 250 Sīrafī, Abū Zayd Ḥasan al- 102
Shah, ‘Alauddin Ri‘ayat 219, 224n.2 Siregar, Bakri 326
Shah, Nasir al-Din 310n.5 Siyar a‘lām al-nubalā’ (al-Dhahabī) 45
Shah, Zia 119, 122, 124 Siyāsa al-madaniyya, al- (al-Fārābī) 96
Shāhid, Shāh Ismā‘īl 239 Siyāsa shar’iyya (Ibn Taymiyyah) 191-
Shahr-i Nawi 222 192
Shakespeare, William 179 slavery 173-174
Sharḥ ‘ala al-khulāṣa fī al-naḥw (al- Smith, Adam 215
Shāṭibī) 206 Socrates 113
Sharia 49, 54, 58, 64, 85, 112, 134, Sorbonne, the 306
135-136, 158, 159-160, 168, Sous les Tilleuls (Karr) 326
172, 180, 192, 199, 229, 237, Southampton 309
238-239, 244, 279, 284-285, 286, Southeast Asia 222, 223
297, 298, 299, 316, 324, 329 Spain 48
Shariati, Ali 304-311 Spain, Islamic, see Andalus, al-
Shariati, Mohammad-Taqi 304-305, 306 Sri Lanka 102, 316
Shāṭibī, Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm al- 176, 204- St. Petersburg 271
209, 286 Starr, Frederick 121-122
Shaṭṭāriyya, the 223 Subkī, Taqī al-Dīn al- 199
Shaw, George Bernard 315, 325 Subüktegīn, Maḥmūd 117-118
Shawkānī, ‘Alī b. Muḥammad 246 Subüktegīn, Mas‘ūd ibn Maḥmūd 118
Shawkānī, Muḥammad b. ‘Alī al- 188, Successors, the see Tābi‘ūn
246-251 Sufism 32, 34, 64-65, 89, 95, 97, 152-
Shayban, tribe of 58 154, 164-169, 171, 172, 179-185,
Shaybānī, Muḥammad b. al-Ḥasan al- 43, 191, 194, 197, 198, 199, 205,
47, 48, 53 221, 229, 232n.18, 235, 238, 240,
Shāziliy, Abū al-Hassān al- 172 244, 253-256, 263n.55, 277, 289,
Shboul, A. 102 325, 329; Ishrāqiyya 113, 230;
Shi’ism xi, 10, 15, 16, 30, 33, 35, 40, 64, Wujūdiyya 219, 222, 255
88-90, 96, 136n.9, 192, 272, 307; Suharto, Muhammad 324, 326
‘Ā’isha and 22; Imāmiyya 27, 32, Suhrawardī, Shihāb al-Dīn Yaḥyā al-
104; Ismā‘īliyya 27, 149, 155n.3, 113, 165, 171
194; Zaydī 44n.2, 246, 247-248, Sukarno 324
249 Sulāmī, ʿIzz al-Dīn ibn ʿAbd al-Salām
Shirin, Sayyida 109 al- 170-178
shirk (idolatry) 34 Sulaym, tribe of 170
shūrā (consultation) 316-317; after Sulayman, al-Mutawakkil Aḥmad 247
death of ‘Umar 13; after death of Sunan (Abū Dāwūd) 188
INDEX 351
Sunan al-Kubrā, al- (al-Bayhaqī) 35n.6 Taḥṣīl al-sa‘āda (al-Fārābī) 96

sunna (Prophetic example) 7, 13, 20, 40, Ṭā’ī, Ḥātim al- 164
49, 54, 55, 58, 64, 65, 73n.1, 89, Taj (magazine) 315
160, 193, 195, 201, 206, 248, tajdīd (renewal) xii, 190, 318, 322
271, 302, 329, 330 ṭalāq (divorce) 195
Sunnism xi, 10, 12, 15, 16, 23, 27, 30-31, ta‘mīm al-adilla (logical generalisation)
33, 35, 64, 70, 88, 246, 247; 41
political thought in 131, 133-136, Tamīmī, Yaḥyā b. Yaḥyā al- 79
149-150, 201 Tanbīh wa-l-‘ishrāf, al- (al-Mas‘ūdī) 103
Suryopranoto, R.M. 322 Tanta 252, 253, 254, 297
Suyūṭī, Jalāl al-Dīn al- 43 Tanwīr al-ḥawālik (al-Suyūṭī) 48
Syria 6, 14, 51, 59, 66, 79, 86, 102, 152, taqlīd (imitation) xii, 149, 159, 176-177,
165, 181, 241, 291 190, 243, 244, 246, 248, 249,
255, 259, 260, 273, 330
taqwā (awareness of Allāh) 280
Ṭabaqāt al-fuqahā’ (al-Shīrāzī) 45
Tārīkh al-jadal (Abū Zahra)
Ṭabaqāt al-Shāfiʿiyya (al-Subkī) 170
Tārīkh al-madhāhib al-Islāmiyya (Abū
Ṭabarī, Abū al-Ṭayyib al- 132
Zahra) 300
Ṭabarī, Muḥammad ibn Jarīr al- 12,
Tārīkh al-Ṭabarī (al-Ṭabarī) 84, 90
67n.7, 84-94, 101, 142
Tarjumān al-ashwāq (Ibn ‘Arabī) 166
Tabaristan 90
Tarjuman al-Quran (journal) 315
Tābi‘ūn (Successors) 45, 46, 54, 58, 70,
Tartars, the 270
192
Tartīb al-madārik fī taqrīb al-masālik
Tabrīzī, Shams-i- 181, 185
(Qāḍī ‘Iyāḍ) 46
Tabṣīr ulī al-nuhā wa ma’ālim al-hudā
Tasawuf Moden (Hamka) 325
(al-Ṭabarī) 90
taṣawwuf, see Sufism
Tadbīrāt al-Ilāhiyya, al- (Ibn ‘Arabī) 167
Tashil al-naẓar wa ta’jīl al-ẓafar (al-
tafsīr (Qur’anic exegesis) 15, 32, 34, 70,
Māwardī) 133
87, 96, 108, 112, 167, 168, 171,
tawḥīd 76, 157, 174, 229, 329
174, 180, 197, 200, 205, 235,
Ṭawīl, Ḥasan al- 254, 255
240, 270, 297, 315, 325, 330, 331
Ṭawq al-hamāma (Ḥazm) 142
Tafsir al-Azhar (Hamka) 324, 325
Taymiyyah, Abū al-Barakāt Majd al-Dīn
Tafsīr al-Manār (Riḍā) 325
ibn 188
Tafsīr al-Qur’ān al-ʿazīm (al-Sulāmī)
Taymiyyah, Sharaf al-Dīn ibn 198
174
Taymiyyah, Shihāb al-Dīn ‘Abd al-Ḥalīm
Tafsīr al-Qur’ān al-azīm (Ibn Kathīr)
ibn 188
193, 267
Taymiyyah, Taqī al-Dīn ibn 66, 73n.2,
Tafsīr al-Ṭabarī (al-Ṭabarī) 84, 91
187-196, 197, 198, 199-200, 299,
Tafsīr fī ẓilāl al-Qur’ān (Qutb) 325
301, 302
Taghlibī, Aḥmad ibn Yūsuf al- 86
Teguran Suci dan Jujur Terhadap Mufti
Tahāfut al-falāsifa (al-Ghazālī) 151, 161
Johor (Hamka) 326
Tahdhīb al-āthār wa tafṣīl ma’ānī
Tehran 308, 310n.5
al-thābit ‘an Rasul Allāh min al-
Tenggelamnya Kapal Van Der Wijck
akhbār (al-Ṭabarī) 90-91
(Hamka) 323, 326
Tahdhīb Sunan Abī Dāwūd (Ibn
Thābit, Abū Ḥanīfa Nu‘mān ibn 27, 39-
Qaiyyim) 200
44, 46, 53, 59, 71, 240, 299
Taḥdid nihāyāt al-amākin li-taṣḥīḥ
Thailand 222, 265
masāfāt al-masākin (al-Bīrūnī)
Thallab 87
123
Thawrī, Sufyān al- 63, 70
Tahir, Haji Abdullah 265
theology, see kalām
Theory of the Three Ages (Bennabi) Umm al-qura (al-Kawākibī) 289

291-292 ummuhāt al-mu’minīn (mothers of the
Tianfang Dianli (Liu) 227, 229-230 believers) 23
Tianfang Xingli (Liu) 229 ‘umrān badawī (nomadic civilisation)
Tianfang Zhisheng Shilu (Liu) 229, 230 212, 214
Ṭibb al-Nabawī, al- (Ibn Qaiyyim) 201 ‘umrān ḥaḍarī (sedentary civilisation)
Tibyān fī aqsām al-Qur’ān, al- (Ibn 212, 214
Qaiyyim) 200 United Kingdom, see Britain
Tigris River, the 7 United States of America 179, 183, 330,
Tilmisānī, Abū ‘Abd Allāh al-Sharīf 332
al- 205 Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia 321
Tilmiz (newspaper) 271 ʿUqlat al-mustawfiz (Ibn ‘Arabī) 167
Timbuktī, Aḥmad Bābā al- 204, 206 ʿUqūd al-la’ālī fī al-asānīd al-ʿawālī
Tirmidhī, al-Ḥakīm al- 34 (Ibn ‘Ābidīn) 243
Tjokroaminoto, H.O.S. 322 ʿUqūd rasm al-muftī (Ibn ‘Ābidīn) 243
Tok Kenali Foundation, the 266 Urfa 281
Tolstoy, Leo 325 Urgench 109
Towards Understanding Islam ‘Urwa al-wuthqa, al- 258
(Mawdudi) 316 Ustawa 131
Toynbee, Arnold J. 210 uṣūl al-dīn (Islamic religious sciences)
Traditionalists, see ahl al-ḥadīth 58, 229
Tripoli 289 uṣūl al-fiqh (Islamic jurisprudence) 48-
Tripoli, Leo of 102 49, 51, 53, 205, 248, 283-284,
Tudeh Party, the 305 299
Ṭufayl, Abū Bakr ibn 158 uṣūl al-khiṭāba (principles of rhetoric)
Tuḥfa al-mursala ilā rūḥ al-Nabī, al- (al- 298
Burhānpūrī) 221 Uttar Pradesh 271
Tuḥfat al-ḥukkām (al-Bayānī) 206 ʿUyaynah, Sufyān b. 46, 52, 59
Tuḥfat al-mawdūd fī aḥkām al-mawlūd Uzbekistan 69, 108, 114, 116
(Ibn Qaiyyim) 201
Tumart, Ibn 157
Valencia 164
Tunis 206, 210-211, 258, 283
Van 277-278
Tunisia 165, 291
Varanasi 272
Türk Yurdu (periodical) 274
Vedas, the 272
Turkestan 95
Verne, Jules 289
Turkey 75, 104, 113, 169, 273, 277, 278,
Vico, Giambattista 210
281
Vikings, the 121-122
Ṭuruq al-ḥukmiyya, al- (Ibn Qaiyyim)
Virgil 113
193, 201
Vocation de l’Islam, La (Bennabi) 291
Tus 149, 154
Volga, the River 278
Ubaydillāh, Ṭalḥa ibn 8, 13, 14 Wabl al-ghamām ‘alā shifā’ al-uwām (al-
Uhud, Battle of ix-x Shawkānī) 248-249
Ülfet (newspaper) 271 Wahb, ‘Abd Allāh b. 70
‘Umar, Ḥafsa bint (wife of Muḥammad) 3 Wahhābī, the 66, 228, 300-302
‘Umarī, Shākir al-‘Uqqād al- 240 waḥy (revelation) 97; to the Prophet
Umayyad Caliphate 27, 29, 39, 139-140 Muḥammad vii, 145n.21
Umayyad Mosque (Damascus) 172, 188, Walīd, Khālid ibn al- ix, 103
189, 201 Waqā’i‘ al-Miṣriyya, al- (magazine) 257
INDEX 353
waqf (endowments) 299 Yūsuf, Abū Ya’qūb 158

wasaṭiyya (moderation) xii, 56
Wasit 31, 86 Zād al-ma’ād (Ibn Taymiyyah) 193
Wāsiṭī, ‘Imād al-Dīn al- 198 Zād al-ma‘ād fī hadyi khair al-‘ibād (Ibn
Waṣiyya Shaykh al-ʿIzz (al-Sulāmī) 174 Qaiyyim) 198, 201
Wāthiq, al- 61, 74 Zagazig 259
Watt, Montgomery 125 Zāhid, Ismāʿīl ibn al-Ḥusayn al-Bukhārī
Wazīr, Muḥammad b. Ibrāhīm al- 247 al- 109
Wiet, Gaston 220 Ẓāhirī, Dāwūd al- 53, 63
Wijhat al-‘ālam al-Islāmī (Bennabi) 294 Ẓāhirī School, the 63, 84, 139, 140-141,
Wretched of the Earth, The (Fanon) 285
306-307 Zakariyah (prophet) 143
Zamlikānī, Muḥammad Abūl-Ma‘ālī
Xativa 204 al- 198
Xian 228 Zanjī, Muslim bin Khālid al- 52
Zarkub, Salaḥ al-Dīn 182
Zawawī, Abū ‘Alī Manṣūr al- 205
Yamāma, Battle of 6 Zawiyya al-Ghazāliyya 172
Ya‘qūb (prophet) 142-143 Zayd, ‘Abd al-Wāḥid b. 65
Ya‘qūbī, Ibn Wadīh al- 101 Zayd, Ḥammād ibn 69
Yemen 45, 52, 59, 247-248, 285, 286 Zayd, Yaḥyā b. 29
Yogyakarta 322 Zaytūna University, al- 283
Yuan Shengzhi 228 Zoroastrianism 104
Yūnus, Abū Bishr Mattā ibn 96 Zuhrī, Ibn Shihāb al- 46, 59
Yunusy, Zainuddin Labay al- 322 Zur‘ī, Abū Bakr al- 197

The Architects of Islamic Civilization

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The Architects of Islamic Civilization

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THE

Copyright © 2017 International Institute of Advanced Islamic Studies (IAIS) Malaysia

Perpustakaan Negara Malaysia

ISLAM AND DIPLOMACY : THE QUEST FOR HUMAN SECURITY / Editors

Part One: The Formative Period

1. ‘Umar bin al-Khaṭṭāb (583CE-23AH/644CE)

2. ‘Alī ibn Abī Ṭālib (599CE-40AH/661CE)

3. ‘Ā’isha bint Abī Bakr (ca.613CE-58AH/678CE)

Part Two: The Classical Period

4. Ja‘far al-Ṣādiq (83-148AH/702-765CE)

5. Abū Ḥanīfa Nu‘mān ibn Thābit (80–150AH/699–767CE)

6. Mālik bin Anas al-Aṣbaḥī (ca.93-179AH/711-795CE)

7. Muḥammad ibn Idrīs al-Shāfi‘ī (150-204AH/767-820CE)

8. Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal (164-241AH/780-855CE)

9. Muḥammad ibn Ismā‘īl al-Bukhārī (194-256AH/808-

13. Abū Naṣr al-Fārābī (257-339AH/870-950CE)

14. Abū al-Ḥasan al-Mas‘ūdī (ca.282-345AH/896-956CE)

15. Abū ‘Alī ibn Sīnā (369-429AH/980-1037CE)

16. Abū al-Rayhān al-Bīrūnī (362-440AH/973-1048CE)

17. Abū Ḥasan al-Māwardī (364-450AH/974-1058CE)

18. Abū Muḥammad ‘Alī ibn Ḥazm (384-456AH/994-1064CE)

19. Abū Ḥāmid al-Ghazālī (450-505AH/1058-1111CE)

20. Abū al-Walīd ibn Rushd al-Qurtubī (520-596AH/1126-

22. ‘Izz al-Dīn ibn ‘Abd al-Salām al-Sulāmī (578-660AH/1182-

23. Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī (603-672AH/1207-1273CE)

24. Taqī al-Dīn ibn Taymiyyah (661-728AH/1263-1328CE)

25. Ibn Qaiyyim al-Jawziyya (691-751AH/1292-1350CE)

26. Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm al-Shāṭibī (ca.720-790AH/1320-1388CE)

27. ‘Abd al-Raḥmān ibn Khaldūn (732-808AH/1332-1406CE)

Part Three: From Early Modernity

28. Hamzah al-Fansuri (d.ca.1602CE)

29. Liu Zhi (ca.1670-1739CE)

30. Shāh Walī Allāh al-Dihlawī (1703-1762CE)

31. Muḥammad Amīn ibn ‘Ābidīn (1784-1836CE)

32. Muḥammad b. ‘Alī al-Shawkānī (1759-1839CE)

33. Muḥammad ‘Abduh (ca.1849-1905CE)

34. Tok Kenali (Muhammad Yusof ) (1868-1933CE)

35. Musa Jarullah Bigiyev (1875-1949CE)

36. Bediüzzaman Said Nursi (1877-1960CE)

37. Muḥammad al-Ṭāhir ibn ‘Āshūr (1879-1973CE) 283

38. Malek Bennabi (1905-1973CE)

39. Muḥammad Abū Zahra (1898-1974CE)

40. ‘Ali Shariati (1933-1977CE)

41. Sayyid Abul A’la al-Mawdudi (1903-1979CE)

42. Hamka (Haji Abdul Malik Karim Amrullah)

43. Fazlur Rahman (1919-1988CE)

had previously considered Muḥammad to be a man of impeccable moral

in retaliation. Upon hearing this, some of the Companions made ready

Consequently, when Portugal and Spain initiated Europe’s ‘Age of

The Formative Period

regarding certain Qur’anic verses. Moreover, ‘Umar frequently offered

department of records (where detailed records of public servants and

The Life of Sayyidina ‘Alī ibn Abī Ṭālib

From His Birth until the Demise of the Prophet

Given this dispute over the succession to the Prophet, it is unsurprising

From His Caliphate until His Martyrdom

‘Alī’s Spiritual and Intellectual Legacy

a curtain or enter a house without permission, not to take the rebels’

16. Ibid, n. 12.

Al-Ḥajjāj, Muslim ibn. Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim. Translated by Nasiruddin al-Khattab.

Al-Ṭabarī, Abū Ja’far. The History of al-Tabari. Translated by Adrian Brockett.

Al-Tirmidhī, Abū ‘Īsā Muḥammad. Jāmi’ al-Tirmidhī. Available at: http://

Ayoub, M. M. The Crisis of Muslim History. Manchester: Oneworld Publications,