Shiʻi-Islam-An-Introduction.Pdf

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¯ SHI‘I ISLAM

An Introduction

The initial centuries after the Prophet Muhammad’s death witnessed the proliferation of diverse ideas and beliefs. It was during this period of roughly three centuries that two dominant intellectual traditions emerged, Sunnism and Sh¯ı‘ism. Sunn¯ı Muslims endorsed the historical caliphate, whereas Sh¯ı‘¯ı Muslims lent their support to ‘Al¯ı, cousin of the Prophet and the fourth caliph. The Sh¯ı‘a also articulated a distinctive set of theological doctrines concerning the nature of God and legitimate political and religious authority. This book examines the development of Sh¯ı‘¯ı Islam through the lenses of belief, narrative, and memory. In an accessible yet nuanced manner, it conceives of Shı‘ism as a historical project undertaken by a segment of the early Muslim community that felt dispossessed. It also covers, for the ﬁrst time in English, a wide range of Sh¯ı‘¯ı communities from the demographically predominant Twelvers to the transnational Ism¯a‘¯ıl¯ıs to the scholar- activist Zaydıs. The resulting portrait of Sh¯ı‘ism reveals a distinctive and vibrant Muslim community with a remarkable capacity for reinvention and adaptation, grounded in a unique theological interpretation of Islam.

Najam Haider is Assistant Professor of Religion at Barnard College of Columbia University. His articles have been published in many journals, including Der Islam, the Journal of Near Eastern Studies, and Islamic Law and Society. His research interests include early Islamic history, Islamic law, and the impact of modernity on the contemporary Muslim world. His ﬁrst book, The Origins of the Sh¯ı‘a (Cambridge University Press), was published in 2011. His new project focuses on early Muslim historical writing. SHI‘¯ ¯I ISLAM

An Introduction

NAJAM HAIDER Barnard College/Columbia University 32 Avenue of the Americas, New York, ny 10013-2473, usa

Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge. It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of education, learning, and research at the highest international levels of excellence.

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C Cambridge University Press 2014 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 2014 Printed in the United States of America A catalog record for this publication is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Haider, Najam Iftikhar, 1974– Shi‘i Islam : an introduction / Najam Haider. pages cm – (Introduction to religion) Includes bibliographical references and index. isbn 978-1-107-03143-2 (hardback) – isbn 9781107625785 (paperback) 1. Shi‘ah. 2. Shi‘ah – History. 3. Shi‘ah – Doctrines – History. I. Title bp193.5.h25 2014 297.82–dc23 2014009780 isbn 978-1-107-03143-2 Hardback isbn 978-1-107-62578-5 Paperback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of urlsforexternal or third-party Internet Web sites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Web sites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate. For Saman, Ayaan, Shahzaib, and Sareena

Contents

List of Tables and Maps page ix Acknowledgments xi Note on the Cover Image xiii A Note on Transliteration and Dating xv

Introduction 1 section 1: theology 13 1 ‘Adl (Rational Divine Justice) 18 2 Imamate¯ (Legitimate Leadership) 31 section 2: origins 51 3 Community 53 4 Fragmentation 84 section 3: constructing sh¯ı‘ism 101 5 Zaydism in the Balance between Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘a 103 6 The Weight of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı Expectations 123 7 Twelver Shı‘ism¯ and the Problem of the Hidden Imam¯ 145 section 4: sh¯ı‘ism in the modern world 167 8 Zaydism at the Crossroads 169 9 (Nizar¯ ¯ı) Isma‘¯ ¯ılism Reconstituted 182

vii viii Contents 10 The Politicization of the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a 200 Conclusion: Sunn¯ı–Sh¯ı‘¯ı Relations 218

Appendix: Verses Mentioned in the Argument from Qur’anic¯ Expectations in Chapter 3 229

Index 233 List of Tables and Maps

tables 2.1 The Imamate¯ page 46 3.1 The Main Characters of the Karbala Narrative 68 4.1 The Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı Imams¯ 94 5.1 Batr¯ıandJarud¯ ¯ ¯ı Zaydism 109 5.2 The Qasim¯ ¯ı Imams¯ of Yemen 114 6.1 The Fat¯ .imid Dynasty (909–1171) 128 6.2 The Nizar¯ ¯ı Rulers, Alamut Period (1090–1256) 133 6.3 The Nizar¯ ¯ı Imams,¯ Post-Alamut (1256–Present) 138 10.1 The Role of the Jurist in the Iranian Constitution 214

maps 1 World Muslim Population Distribution xvi 2 World Sunnı/Sh¯ ¯ı‘¯ı Population Distribution xvii 3 The Sh¯ı‘¯ı Population of the Middle East xviii 4 The Middle East in the Early Muslim Period xix 5 The Middle East and North Africa in the Modern Period xx 6 The Khoja Population of Pakistan and India xxi

Acknowledgments

A number of people were pivotal in bringing this book to fruition. I thank Marigold Acland at Cambridge University Press for proposing the project and providing insightful comments in its formative stages. William McCants and Justin Stearns were incredibly helpful in reading and com- menting on early iterations of the book proposal. They then generously offered feedback on drafts of chapters and (later) the full manuscript. I also beneﬁted from valuable feedback on either individual chapters or the full book from Mona Abdallah, Aun Ali, Gene Garthwaite, Iago Hale, Abdullah Hamidaddin, Tariq al-Jamil, Hossein Kamaly, and Hussein Rashid. Many others have contributed to this book either directly or indirectly. These include Sumaira Arastu, Grace Bickers, Elizabeth Castelli, Celia Deutsch, Jack Hawley, Bernard Haykel, Gale Kenny, Amena Saeed Lone, and Intisar Rabb. A special thanks to Michael Cook and Hossein Modarressi for their meticulous feedback on a late version of the complete text. Although this book would not be possible without the help and support of my teachers, colleagues, and friends, I bear full responsibility for any errors of fact or interpretation.

Note on the Cover Image

The cover image is an illustration of the investiture of ‘Al¯ı by the Prophet at Ghad¯ır Khumm from the earliest extant illustrated manuscript of al-Birun¯ ¯ı’s (d. 1048) Ath¯ ar¯ al-baqiya¯ ‘an al-qurun¯ al-khaliya¯ (commonly known as The Chronology of Ancient Nations) located in the Special Col- lections Department of Edinburgh University Library. The manuscript (Arab Ms. 161) was produced by the calligrapher Ibn al-Kutb¯ı in 1307. Its geographic origin is not known with certainty, but possibilities include Maragha or Tabriz, major urban centers of the Ilkhanid¯ dynasty (1256– 1335). Recent scholarship has shown that the manuscript’s images, fusing Arab and Chinese motifs, served as the basis for many subsequent pictorial representations of the Prophet’s life. Al-Birun¯ ¯ı’s text focuses primarily on competing calendrical systems. The Edinburgh manuscript intersperses the Arabic text with twenty-five illus- trations of varying size. The image of the investiture of ‘Al¯ı (folio 162r) is the final illustration and reflects a clear pro-Sh¯ı‘¯ı orientation. The manuscript is often discussed with reference to the conversion of the Ilkhanid¯ ruler Uljaytu (r. 1304–16) to Twelver Shı‘ism¯ in 1310, possibly through the influence of the Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholar Ibn al-Mut.ahhar al-‘Allama¯ al-H. ill¯ı (d. 1325). The portrait of investiture is the largest of the manuscript, occupying almost an entire page. In the illustration, note the swirling red and gold clouds and the dark blue sky, signifying the dramatic importance of the moment. The Prophet (on the left and cloaked) appoints ‘Al¯ı (in a blue robe with his left hand on his sword) as his successor by reciting the formula “Of whomever I am the master (mawla¯), ‘Al¯ı is his master (mawla¯).” Also significant is the Prophet’s placement of his left hand on ‘Al¯ı’s shoulder. According to Priscilla Soucek, this gesture reflected a popular Iranian tradition in which individuals could forge intimate bonds that exceeded those of kin or marriage in importance through a ceremony performed on the day of the investiture (the eighteenth of the Islamic month of Dhu¯ al-H. ijja). xiii xiv Note on the Cover Image A final point to consider concerns the pictorial representation of the faces of the Prophet and ‘Al¯ı. There is no indication that this was considered religiously problematic in the Ilkhanid¯ period. The three faces scratched out in the image likely belong to the first three Sunn¯ı caliphs, Abu¯ Bakr, ‘Umar, and ‘Uthman.¯ Christiane Gruber interprets this act as a polemical attack on Sunn¯ı religious claims rather than a general condemnation of pictorial representation. For more on the cover image and the manuscript, see the following works: Sheila Blair, “The Development of the Illustrated Book in Iran,” Muqarnas 10 (1993): 266–74. Christiane Gruber, “Questioning the ‘Classical’ in Persian Painting,” Journal of Art Historiography 6 (2012): 1–25. Robert Hillenbrand, “Images of Muhammad in al-Biruni’s Chronology of Ancient Nations,” in Persian Painting, ed. Robert Hillenbrand (London: I. B. Tauris, 2000), 129–46. Teresa Kirk, “The Edinburgh Al-Biruni Manuscript,” Persica 20 (2005): 39–81. Priscilla Soucek, “An Illustrated Manuscript of al-Birun¯ ¯ı’s Chronology of Ancient Nations,” in The Scholar and the Saint, ed. Peter Chelkowsi (New York: New York University Press, 1975), 103–68. A Note on Transliteration and Dating

The system of transliteration employed in rendering Arabic names, technical terms, and other phrases into Latin characters is essentially the same as that used in most modern academic journals (e.g., International Journal of Middle Eastern Studies or Islamic Law and Society). The primary exceptions to this strict transliteration are certain well-established locations that are referred to by their common names. Most prominent among these are the cities of Mecca and Medina and the geographic regions of Syria, Yemen, Iraq, and Iran. Dates are given according to the Common Era calendar. This differs from the Islamic (Hijr¯ı) calendar, which is lunar and begins in the year 622 c.e. Death dates are provided at the ﬁrst mention of each historical ﬁgure in the main text and repeated when considered appropriate.

xv of use, available at Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms . New YorkUniversity Libraries . http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.003 xvi , on 14 Dec2016 at16:43:43 , subjectto theCambridgeCore terms

Map . World Muslim Population Distribution of use, available at Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms . New YorkUniversity Libraries . http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.003 xvii , on 14 Dec2016 at16:43:43 , subjectto theCambridgeCore terms

Map .WorldSunn¯ı/Sh¯ı‘¯ı Population Distribution of use, available at Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms . New YorkUniversity Libraries . http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.003 xviii , on 14 Dec2016 at16:43:43 , subjectto theCambridgeCore terms

Map .TheSh¯ı‘¯ı Population of the Middle East of use, available at Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms . New YorkUniversity Libraries . http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.003 xix , on 14 Dec2016 at16:43:43 , subjectto theCambridgeCore terms

Map . The Middle East in the Early Muslim Period of use, available at Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms . New YorkUniversity Libraries . http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.003 xx , on 14 Dec2016 at16:43:43 , subjectto theCambridgeCore terms

Map . The Middle East and North Africa in the Modern Period Map . The Khoja Population of Pakistan and India

xxi

Introduction

In , I was living in Syria and studying Arabic at the language center of the University of Damascus. I had also arranged classes in Islamic law in Sayyida Zaynab, a small suburb of Damascus built around an important Sh¯ı‘¯ı shrine, which contained a number of formal schools for the training  of Sh¯ı‘¯ı religious scholars. The Muslim month of fasting (Ramad.an)¯ that year fell in January. Ramad.an¯ is a festive month in which Muslims abstain from food, water, and sex each day from sunrise to sunset. I often broke my fast in Sayyida Zaynab, as many schools would open their doors to the public near sunset and provide free food and drink. After the evening prayer, a scholar would offer a small talk centered on ritual or theology in simple Arabic that even I (as a student) could understand with little difficulty. One day, the talk was given by an extremely distinguished scholar who was in Damascus representing a prominent Iranian Grand Ayatollah (the most senior scholarly title in Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism). He began by identifying the five central pillars of Sh¯ı‘¯ı Islam (these are discussed further in subsequent chapters) as (i) the belief in one God, (ii) the belief in Muh. ammad as the last Prophet, (iii) the belief in the Day of Judgment, (iv) the belief that God is just in a manner humans can rationally understand, and (v) the belief in Imams,¯ divinely inspired leaders descended from the Prophet. The first three pillars were foundational to Islam and anyone who accepted them was unquestionably a Muslim. This meant that all Sunn¯ıs were Muslims and had to be treated as coreligionists rather than as apostates or heretics. The acceptance of the final two pillars established that an individual was

 In many works, the Sh¯ı‘a are referred to as “Sh¯ı‘ites” as a result of a translation convention adopted by early European and American scholars. I use the term “Sh¯ı‘a” for the larger community and the term “Sh¯ı‘¯ı” as an adjective (e.g., “a Sh¯ı‘¯ıbelief”).“Sh¯ı‘¯ı Muslim” denotes a single believer.  In the interests of clarity, I use the term “Twelver” throughout the book to describe the group that came to be known as the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a. This is anachronistic because the term would have made little sense before the disappearance of the Twelfth Imam¯ in .



Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Toronto, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:21:43, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.004  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam not just a Muslim but a Sh¯ı‘¯ı Muslim as well. The scholar marked this distinction through the use of the term “believer.” Both Sunn¯ıs and Sh¯ı‘a were Muslims. The Sh¯ı‘a, however, were also “believers,” which placed them in a more select category with access to a greater truth. The scholar’s creation of a hierarchy of belief deftly affirmed the unity of the larger Muslim community while preserving the special status of the Sh¯ı‘a. It managed to deemphasize religious differences even as it maintained the theological independence of Sh¯ı‘ism. This tension between a broad Muslim collective and a discrete Sh¯ı‘¯ı identity is a central feature of Sh¯ı‘¯ı history. In many respects, it is difficult to differentiate between Sunn¯ıand Sh¯ı‘¯ı Muslims. Both groups share the same prayer ritual, fast during the same month, and perform the pilgrimage to Mecca. At the same time, variations persist in the structure of the prayer, the rules for breaking the fast, and the order and form of the rites of the pilgrimage. The relevance of these differences has varied over time depending on social and political factors, as discussed throughout the book. When Muslims are asked to explain the differences between Sunn¯ıand Sh¯ı‘¯ı Islam, they usually cite the historical disagreement over the succession to the Prophet or variations in ritual such as the placement of the hands in prayer. The theological explanation given by the Sh¯ı‘¯ıscholarinmy anecdote is rare. Yet it is theology that supports and reinforces historical disputes or minor ritual variations. To make sense of the terms “Sunn¯ı” and “Sh¯ı‘¯ı,” it is necessary first to document theological differences and then to explore their implications. These implications are not obvious, and they are often shaped by historical context and communal need. This book traces the development of Sh¯ı‘¯ı communities by examining the dynamic interplay between theology, memory, and historical circumstance. Subtle differences in theological interpretation among the Sh¯ı‘a themselves influenced their remembrance of the past. In other words, the Zayd¯ı, Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı, and Twelver Sh¯ı‘a offered competing visions of the early history of Islam that aligned with their particular theological outlooks. As the experiences and circumstances of each Sh¯ı‘¯ı community changed, they continually reimagined their past to make sense of their present. The evolution of each Sh¯ı‘¯ı group was thus a constant negotiation of theology, narrative, and historical contingency. Each group was also in continuous conversation with different Sunn¯ı communities. At times, these relations were cordial and cooperative; at other times, they could be quite hostile and antagonistic. In this book, I hope to shed light on the some of the questions that likely motivated a reader to pick it up in the first place: What are the differences

i. previous approaches in introductory works on sh¯ı‘ism This section focuses on previous introductory works on Sh¯ı‘ism and is designed specifically for those interested in the history of the genre. Those readers with little interest in such matters may wish to proceed directly to the section titled “The Structure of the Book.” Most introductory works on Sh¯ı‘¯ı Islam employ one of two approaches. The first rests on a historical framework that emphasizes a distinct moment of fragmentation in the early history of the Muslim community. It contends that when the Prophet Muh. ammad died in the western Arabian town of Medina in , a dispute arose as to the identity of his successor. The majority of his Companions supported Abu¯ Bakr, Muh. ammad’s father- in-law and close confidant, who led the Muslim community (umma)as the first caliph for two years and was followed, in turn, by three other prominent Companions (i.e., ‘Umar, ‘Uthman,¯ and ‘Al¯ı).Thisgroupof four successors was revered by subsequent generations of Sunn¯ıMuslims and labeled “the rightly guided caliphs.” A minority of the Companions rejected the selection of Abu¯ Bakr and argued that the strongest claim for succession rested with ‘Al¯ı, the Prophet’s son-in-law and first cousin. This group was particularly devoted to Muh. ammad’s close family – referred to as the ahl al-bayt (lit. people of the house) – and maintained that the leadership of the Muslim community was the exclusive purview of the Prophet’s direct descendants. The views of the first group are today associated with Sunn¯ı Muslims, whereas those of the second characterize Sh¯ı‘¯ıMuslims.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Toronto, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:21:43, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.004  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam The second approach prevalent in introductory studies of Sh¯ı‘ism utilizes a theological or legal framework. This involves summarizing the central theological tenets of Sh¯ı‘¯ı belief with a particular emphasis on the Sh¯ı‘¯ı institution of the Imamate¯ (the legitimate leadership of the Muslim community). Scholars of this variety often follow their theological analyses with an examination of Sh¯ı‘¯ı legal principles and practices. The resulting works take the form of handbooks or primers recounting the basic beliefs of most Sh¯ı‘¯ı communities. Most such introductions concentrate exclusively on the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a, who constitute a vast majority of the global Sh¯ı‘a population, while excluding numerically smaller groups such as the Zayd¯ıs and the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs. Both of these approaches have some benefits, but they do not account for a dynamic and evolving Sh¯ı‘ism, the modern manifestation of which is in fact the result of a significant number of theological and political compromises. The challenge lies in simplifying the history and theology of the Sh¯ı‘a without losing its critical nuances. In this book, I attempt to strike such a balance by examining the foundational theological doctrines, historical narratives, and political developments of Sh¯ı‘ism without drowning readers in a cacophony of names, dates, and technical terms. Thus, I begin with a discussion of the core theological beliefs that underlie contemporary Sh¯ı‘ism. Many of these doctrines are later developments (dating from the ninth, tenth, and eleventh centuries), but they have come to hold a central place in Sh¯ı‘¯ı understandings of history, ritual, and politics. Moreover, they have profoundly affected the ways in which different Sh¯ı‘¯ı communities remember the past, replacing the complexities of the first few centuries of Islam with a cohesive (but revisionist) narrative. Unlike previous introductions to Sh¯ı‘ism, the present work covers the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and the Zayd¯ıs in addition to the more populous Twelvers.

ii. the structure of the book This book is divided into ten chapters organized into four distinct thematic sections. The ﬁrst two sections highlight the fundamental beliefs of different Sh¯ı‘¯ı communities and the ways in which these beliefs helped shape (and reshape) Sh¯ı‘¯ı historical memory. The same dynamic is characteristic of memory in non-Muslim contexts (e.g., the American Civil War) and has been commented on by a long line of scholars going back as far as Thucydides, who remarked that people make “their recollection ﬁt in with their sufferings.” The US Civil War, for example, is remembered

 Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War, bk. II, chap. .

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Toronto, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:21:43, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.004 Introduction  in fundamentally contradictory ways by different demographics. A white Virginian landowner in the early twentieth century might have viewed it as a failed struggle for southern independence. A black former slave may have considered it a war for emancipation. A white conscript from New York may have seen it as a rich man’s war that simply exploited the poor. Historical accounts written from each of these perspectives would have been shaped by personal beliefs, values, and economic realities. The same can be said of Sh¯ı‘¯ı historical memory of the early Islamic period. It is necessary, therefore, to identify the central theological beliefs of Sh¯ı‘ism before turning to Sh¯ı‘¯ı historical narratives. The chapters in Section  (Chapters  and ) focus on the theological framework held in common by most modern Sh¯ı‘¯ı communities. Chapter  examines the seminal Sh¯ı‘¯ı doctrine of rational divine justice (‘adl ) according to which God is just in a manner than can be rationally understood by human beings. In other words, God’s actions are always just by human standards. They can be explained by reference to our common understanding of justice. This idea has profound implications for free will and motivated many Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars to advocate for revolution for the purpose of establishing a just social order. It certainly provided the impetus for the founding of Zayd¯ıandIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı states throughout history and contributed to the growth of modern Twelver political activism. Chapter  focuses on the institution of the Sh¯ı‘¯ıImamate¯ (the legitimate leadership of the Muslim community). Related to the doctrine of divine justice, the Imamate¯ is an important arena of contention among the three Sh¯ı‘¯ı communities at the heart of this study. Although every Sh¯ı‘¯ı group restricts the office to descendants of the Prophet through ‘Al¯ı, they differonissuessuchastheImam’s¯ primary role or the scope and source ofhisknowledge.IstheImam¯ simply a scholar entrusted with creating and administering a state founded on Islamic principles of justice, or is the Imam¯ a divinely inspired figure whose religious interpretations are protected from error and beyond human scrutiny? It is important to bear in mind that the theological distinctions made in the first section are in no sense inevitable. They were later developments that won acceptance in Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholarly circles. There is often a tendency to seek “essential” differences between Sunnism and Sh¯ı‘ism to explain in a definitive manner the split in the Muslim community. This approach misconstrues the Sunn¯ı–Sh¯ı‘a divide and borders on a deterministic

 Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups also differ regarding the importance of the Imam¯ in the salvation of the community on the Day of Judgment. This topic is particularly relevant in Chapters  and  (for the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs) and Chapters  and  (for the Twelvers).

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Toronto, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:21:43, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.004  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam explanation of the historical development of two equally plausible interpretations of Islam. I foreground theology strictly to provide context for the history. As mentioned earlier, this is because Sh¯ı‘¯ı theology helped shape the Sh¯ı‘¯ı community’s remembrance of its past. The second section of the book turns to the historical memory of different Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups. Here it is necessary to distinguish between moments that unite a community and others that fragment it. A contemporary example of such a distinction might be found in American discourse on immigra- tion. There is a broadly accepted narrative that claims that the United States is a land of opportunity for immigrants, who can achieve wealth and status through hard work. The biography of Andrew Carnegie serves as a unifying narrative for this broad American ideal. On the fragmentary side are narratives of dissent and polarization embodied perhaps in labor history. Some interpretations of the Pullman Strike of railroad workers in Chicago during the summer of  focus on the disruption of the economy, whereas others emphasize the drive for social justice and humane working conditions. In this case, an event serves to fragment social groups or economic classes on the basis of their specific interests. A similar dynamic of unifying or fragmenting historical narratives is evident in Sh¯ı‘¯ı historical works. The summaries of Chapters  and  that follow contain a lot of names and dates. There is no need to commit them to memory at this point. They will be discussed again with more context and background in the chapters themselves. At this point, I am simply flagging their importance for interested readers. Chapter  explores narratives that unite the Zayd¯ı, Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı, and Twelver Sh¯ı‘a. These include (i) the succession to Muh. ammad and (ii) the massacre of H. usayn (Muh. ammad’s grandson) and his followers in the Iraqi region of Karbala in . Although all three Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups ascribe a critical importance to these events, they offer quite different narratives of them, reflecting each group’s specific theological views. The Zayd¯ıs, for example, articulate a predominantly political narrative that differs sharply from the grand cosmological narratives of the Twelvers and the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs. This chapter also discusses ritual commemorations of the appointment of ‘Al¯ı as the Prophet’s successor and the massacre of H. usayn, which played a central role in the coalescence of Twelver and Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıcommunal identity.

 The most popular interpretation of US history from the perspective of labor might be Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States (New York: Harper & Row, c).

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Toronto, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:21:43, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.004 Introduction  Chapter  examines divisive narratives that reflect the fragmentation of the larger Sh¯ı‘¯ı community. These include (i) the revolt of Zayd b. ‘Al¯ı(a grandson of the earlier-mentioned H. usayn) in Kufa in , (ii) the disputed succession to Ja‘far al-S.adiq¯ (a great-grandson of H. usayn) in , and (iii) the occultation of the twelfth Imam¯ in . Zayd’s revolt became the basis for the Zayd¯ı prototype of the Imamate.¯ The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs grafted a number of important doctrinal beliefs onto their accounts of al-S.adiq’s¯ succession, emphasizing the designation and death or disappearance of his eldest son, Isma‘¯ ¯ıl. The occultation of the twelfth Imam¯ provided the Twelvers with their most distinctive feature: a belief in a hidden Imam¯ who remains the titular head of the larger community. After covering the theological and narrative foundations of Sh¯ı‘ism, the book turns, in the third and fourth sections, to the historical development of Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups. The third section weaves together material from the first two sections to evaluate the influence of political and social forces on the emergence of the “classical doctrines” of Zayd¯ı, Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı, and Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. Chapter  focuses on a series of oscillations in Zayd¯ıSh¯ı‘ism between Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı theological positions. Chapter  examines the development of an Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıSh¯ı‘ism that had to balance the expectations of a living Imam¯ with the reality of his potential human failings. Chapter  traces the shift that took place in Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism as the authority of the Imam¯ was increasingly appropriated by religious scholars. The fourth and final section of this book documents more recent devel- opmentsinthethreeSh¯ı‘¯ı communities. Recent is, of course, a relative term. These chapters specifically examine those shifts and transformations over the past few centuries that directly resulted in the current formulation of Zayd¯ı, Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı, and Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. Chapter  highlights fissures within Zaydism along tribal and genealogical lines. These divisions became particularly potent in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, when they were exploited by groups backed (financially and politically) by the Saudi state. Chapter  discusses changes in (Nizar¯ ¯ı) Isma‘¯ ¯ılism ushered in by the community’s recent Imams¯ (known by the title Aga Khan), including the conscious production of a transnational community vested in global humanitarian causes. Finally, Chapter  confronts the dramatic politicization of the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a over the past half century as evidenced by the writings of secular and religious scholars. Each of the ten chapters concludes with a list of recommended readings for further study. These lists provide structured guidance for those seeking more detailed information in a particular area or those interested in recent scholarly developments in the study of Sh¯ı‘ism. The reading lists also

iii. a user’s guide The structure of this book is intentionally flexible and provides multiple avenues for approaching the study of Sh¯ı‘ism. Although a chronological reading (beginning with Chapter  and proceeding through Chapter )is strongly recommended, readers may choose to take a different approach if they are interested in a particular aspect of Sh¯ı‘ism (e.g., history) or a specific Sh¯ı‘¯ı group (e.g., the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs). The discussion that follows outlines the benefits of a few strategies. There are certainly others that may be employed at a reader’s discretion. For those with some background in Islam, I suggest a cover-to-cover reading. Such an approach begins with the current theological edifice of Sh¯ı‘ism (Chapters  and ) before turning to its historical narratives with an understanding that theology influenced the Sh¯ı‘¯ı remembrance of the past (Chapters  and ). This strategy conforms to one of the central premises of the book – namely, that it is important to understand the belief structures of Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups before plunging into a dizzying array of names and places. It then traces the evolution of different Sh¯ı‘¯ıgroupsintothe modern period (Chapters –). This is not a conventional structure for an introductory work, but it is one that provides the best context for the growth and development of Zayd¯ı, Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı, and Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. For a novice with no background in Islam, the best approach might involve reversing the first two sections, thereby privileging historical narratives over theology. This would entail beginning with Chapters  and , which focus on key moments in Sh¯ı‘¯ı history while also providing a broad chronology of the Prophet’s life and a significant amount of historical context for the seventh, eighth, and ninth centuries. Theological elements are mentioned in the historical chapters, but these remain fairly accessible. Readers could then turn to Chapters  and , which examine more abstract doctrines such as free will and the nature of evil. Such a reading foregrounds the intrigues, rebellions, and succession disputes that feature heavily in the early history of Islam. The book may also be used as a primer for individual Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups. For example, if a reader is exclusively interested in Zayd¯ıSh¯ı‘ism, he or she may follow the first two sections with Chapter  from the third section and Chapter  from the fourth section. This sequence would provide a

iv. disclaimers It is necessary, in any introductory work, to make difficult decisions about the inclusion or exclusion of particular topics. This book is no exception: treatment of certain topics and subjects is either severely curtailed or altogether absent. The most striking omission is that of a broad survey of the basic principles of Islam. The current study is not intended as an introduction to Islam in the traditional sense. There is no discussion of the “pillars of Islam” or examination of the meaning of prayer or the annual pilgrimage to Mecca (the H. ajj). The book assumes that readers understand that Muslims believe in the Prophet Muh. ammad, pray five times each day, fast during the month of Ramad. an,¯ and conceive of the Qur‘an¯ as the word of God. The Prophet’s biography and the Qur‘an¯ are discussed in the context of Sh¯ı‘¯ı views of ‘Al¯ı, but they are not analyzed in their own right. In other words, this book is primarily about the Sh¯ı‘a and their distinctive practices and beliefs; it is not an introductory work on Islam as a whole. Ritual practice is an important topic that might merit an entire chapter or section of its own in an introductory work. There are a number of distinctive Sh¯ı‘¯ı rituals that developed around the purported designation of ‘Al¯ı as the Prophet’s successor and around the killing of H. usayn. The forms of these rituals vary from region to region under the influence of local cultural practices. In addition, as mentioned earlier, there are subtle

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Toronto, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:21:43, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.004  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam (and sometimes more pronounced) differences in the Sh¯ı‘¯ı performance of universal Muslim rites such as the daily prayer, fasting in Ramad.an,¯ and the annual pilgrimage. Although pertinent rituals are discussed in some chapters, this book does not offer a comprehensive discussion of ritual itself. In those chapters in which ritual is particularly important, references to useful primary sources and secondary studies are provided in the lists of recommended readings. This book also does not offer a detailed analysis of Sufi influences in Sh¯ı‘ism (often referred to as ‘irfan¯ ). This is not meant to minimize the importance of Sufism. It may even be argued that Sufi thought was one of the guiding elements in the development of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı and Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. The absence of a specific chapter on Sufism stems from two considerations. First, there are numerous excellent introductory works on Sufism in print, some of which discuss its relationship with Sh¯ı‘ism. In fact, the study of Sufism is arguably the most-developed and best-known aspect of the Muslim intellectual tradition. The benefits of repeating much of this material are outweighed by the need to discuss elements of Sh¯ı‘ism (e.g., theology, historical memory) that are rarely found in introductory works. Second, although Sufism is not analyzed in its own right, it features prominently in Chapters  and  during discussions of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı and Twelver struggles to balance rationalist legal and mystical interpretations of core religious texts. The study of Sufism is thus partially integrated into relevant parts of the book. Difficult choices also had to made with respect to the scope of the Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups discussed in the book. There is little mention of early Sh¯ı‘¯ısects that have not survived into the modern period. In some instances, these groups may have encompassed a majority (or at least a plurality) of the overall Sh¯ı‘¯ı population or articulated theological doctrines later adopted by a wide range of Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups. A comprehensive historical survey would certainly need to address these groups, but the current study is primarily interested in the contemporary landscape of Sh¯ı‘ism. Smaller communities of Sh¯ı‘a with a localized presence are also notably absent in this book due to the space limitations of an introductory text. These include the Alawites (or Nus.ayr¯ıs), power holders in Syria under the Assad regime; the Alevis of Turkey, who hold distinctive beliefs and practice unique rituals; and the Musta‘l¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs of Yemen and India. A final point to bear in mind concerns the issue of perspective. The first two sections of the book rely on the writings of Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups themselves. The theological framework that informs these chapters developed centuries after the death of the Prophet and then influenced historical memory. It is

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Toronto, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:21:43, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.004 Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Toronto, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:21:43, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.004 section 1 Theology

The Mu‘tazila, whose name means “those who set themselves apart” or “those who stand aside,” were a theological school known for their unique interpretation (ta‘w¯ıl)ofQur’anic¯ passages and their application of reason (‘aql) to scripture and other sources of religious knowledge. They emerged from obscure origins in the middle of the eighth century and lasted as an independent school until as late as the twelfth century. Despite sharing a core set of principles (as described subsequently), the Mu‘tazila were a highly heterogeneous group, with representatives articulating radically different views and theories. At its peak in the ninth and tenth centuries, Mu‘tazil¯ı thought coalesced around two intellectual poles centered on the Iraqi cities of Basra and Baghdad. Initially, the relationship between the Mu‘tazila and the Sh¯ı‘a was quite adversarial. During the eighth and ninth centuries, the Mu‘tazila criticized the Sh¯ı‘a – in particular, the Imam¯ ¯ıs (precursors of the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and the Twelvers) – for their views pertaining to the succession to the Prophet, the nature of God, and the characteristics of the Imam.¯ The broader Sh¯ı‘¯ı community eventually aligned (to differing degrees) with many of the central tenets of Mu‘tazilism. The Zayd¯ıs embraced almost the entirety of Mu‘tazil¯ı thought beginning in the tenth (among Yemeni Zayd¯ıs) and eleventh (among Caspian Zayd¯ıs) centuries. The Twelvers were more selec- tive in their appropriation, rejecting those principles that conﬂicted with

 The Mu‘tazila constituted a broad theological movement purportedly founded by Was¯.il b. ‘At.a’¯ (d. ) in the ﬁrst half of the eighth century in the Iraqi city of Basra. Rather than being a formally structured and hierarchical school, Mu‘tazilism united a number of scholars with dramatically different explanations for central theological questions. It was only in the ninth century that Abu¯ al- Hudhayl al-‘Allaf¯ (d. between  and ) formulated the ﬁve principles that marked the Mu‘tazila as a distinct theological school.  For a different perspective on the nature of this relationship, see Wilferd Madelung, “The Shiite and Kharijite¯ Contribution to Pre-Ash‘arite Kalam¯ .”



Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:38:37, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.001  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam their doctrine of the Imamate.¯ By the eleventh century, however, Mu‘tazil¯ı influence on Twelver theology was fairly pronounced. The five core beliefs that came to be associated with Mu‘tazilism, in a form first elaborated by the ninth-century Mu‘tazil¯ı theologian Abual-¯ Hudhayl al-‘Allaf,¯ are as follows: (i) The principle of divine oneness (tawh. ¯ıd) held the attributes of God in the Qur’an¯ to exist only metaphorically to avoid any potential for anthropomorphism. Qur’anic¯ descriptions of God’s “hand” (Q:) or of His “sitting on a throne” (Q:) were metaphors for His grace or His power and did not reflect a physical reality. This belief led to the doctrine most directly associated with the Mu‘tazila – namely, a belief in the createdness of the Qur’an.¯ This held that the Qur’an¯ was created by God in time as opposed to existing eternally as part of God’s essence. The latter possibility was seen (by the Mu‘tazila) as compromising divine oneness by allowing for a second eternal entity (i.e., the Qur’an).¯  (ii) The principle of rational divine justice (‘adl) maintained that God was just in a manner that accorded with human reason. In other words, God adhered to a moral standard that was known by humans to be just or good on the basis of reason. As discussed in Chapter ,oneof the consequences of this principle was the affirmation of free will. (iii) The principle of “the promise and the threat” (al-wa‘d wa-l-wa‘¯ıd) upheld the eternal reward of believers and the punishment of sinners based on God’s statements in the Qur’an.¯ (iv) The principle of the “intermediate position” (al-manzila bayn al- manzilatayn) classified the grave sinner as neither a believer nor a nonbeliever but rather a fasiq¯ (a morally corrupt individual), who maintained his legal standing in the Muslim community even as he was condemned to eternal damnation in hell. (v) The principle of “enjoining good and forbidding wrong” (amr bi- l-ma‘ruf¯ wa-nahy ‘an al-munkar) required Muslims to intervene in the affairs of the community. The actualization of this principle had

 It is important to bear in mind that the relationship between the Mu‘tazila and the Sh¯ı‘a was quite dynamic. Although I frame the association as one of Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars appropriating Mu‘tazil¯ı ideas, it also included many Mu‘tazil¯ı theologians embracing Sh¯ı‘ism.  The link between the createdness or uncreatedness of the Qur’an¯ and its potential eternity appears to have ﬁrst materialized in the ninth century. Madelung disentangles the two issues and discusses their respective historical contexts in “The Origins of the Controversy Concerning the Creation of the Koran.”

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:38:37, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.001 Theology  broad political ramifications because it could (and was) used at various junctures to justify religious persecution. It is worth mentioning that this principle was adopted to varying degrees by other (non-Mu‘tazil¯ı) Muslim groups. In addition, many Mu‘tazil¯ıs did not restrict the legitimate leadership of the community (the Imamate)¯ to a specific tribal or genetic lineage. The office was considered elective, with some Mu‘tazil¯ıs arguing that an Imam¯ was not required at all times. Mu‘tazilism met with considerable opposition in the broader Muslim intellectual landscape. Traditionists refused the very project of theology, adopting a literalist understanding of revelation. A middle position was adopted by the Ash‘ar¯ı theological school, which was reportedly founded by AbuH¯ . asan al-Ash‘ar¯ı(d.) after he left the Mu‘tazila around . Al-Ash‘ar¯ı embraced the traditionist emphasis on the normative centrality of the revealed texts, but instead of abandoning rationalism outright, he defended his views through rational theological discourse. The Ash‘ar¯ıs held that revelation provided the sole means for evaluating the actions of God, thereby rejecting the Mu‘tazil¯ı belief in the ability of human reason to understand God’s actions. It is important to bear in mind that the Ash‘ar¯ıs were as “rational” as the Mu‘tazila in that they utilized similar tools of dialectical theology to support their central principles. The differences between the two schools centered on the relationship between revelation and reason in ascertaining the divine will. Bearing this in mind, it is highly problematic to think of the Mu‘tazila as “rationalists” and of the Ash‘ar¯ıs as “textualists.”

mu‘tazilism and sh¯ı‘ism Zayd¯ıs ultimately accepted the broader edifice of Mu‘tazilism, placing a particular emphasis on the second (rational divine justice) and fifth (enjoining good and forbidding wrong) principles. They broke with the Mu‘tazila by restricting the Imamate¯ to descendants of ‘Al¯ı and by minimiz- ing the community’s role in the election of the Imam.¯ Zayd¯ı interpretations of Mu‘tazilism were shaped by the contingencies of political power, and Mu‘tazil¯ı ideals were often muted or altered to account for the complexities of actual governance. The Twelvers eventually affirmed the first, second, and fifth principles but rejected the third and fourth principles. This selectivity resulted from the Twelver conception of the Imamate¯ and, in particular, the Imam’s¯ role

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:38:37, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.001  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam in the salvation of the community. Like the Zayd¯ıs, the Twelvers disagreed with the Mu‘tazila regarding the genetic qualifications and election of the Imam.¯ They went further, however, in asserting the Imam’s¯ ability to intercede on behalf of his followers on the Day of Judgment. This position was not acceptable to Mu‘tazil¯ı scholars, who saw it as a clear violation of their third principle (the promise and the threat). Specifically, the Mu‘tazila argued that if God did not punish a sinner for sins, He would be revealed as a liar given His threats in the Qur’an.¯ The Twelvers also rejected the fourth principle (the intermediate state) as a convenient device for absolving those Companions who had committed a grave sin (or even apostatized) by taking up arms against ‘Al¯ı. The case of the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs is more complicated due to the presence of a living Imam¯ who functions as the ultimate source of knowledge and authority. Because the community’s beliefs depend entirely on the ruling Imam,¯ they are subject to change from generation to generation. For this reason, the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs lack established positions on many of the theological principles discussed here. The chapters in this section highlight the process through which many Mu‘tazil¯ı ideas were incorporated into a broad Sh¯ı‘¯ı theological framework beginning in the tenth century. Chapter  discusses the different ways in which rational divine justice influences Sh¯ı‘¯ı thinking on a range of topics from free will and law to political activism. Chapter  turns to (arguably) the most distinctive element of Sh¯ı‘ism, the institution of the Imamate.¯ As will become clear later, differences among the Zayd¯ıs, the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs, and the Twelvers regarding the Imamate¯ were a consequence of their distinctive theological positions. It is important to remember that Section  of this book speaks more to the beliefs of contemporary Sh¯ı‘¯ı Muslims than to those of the earliest community. Although theology came to occupy a foundational place in

 For the Mu‘tazila, this Twelver position also contradicted the second principle (rational divine justice) in that God would be acting unjustly in absolving sins on the basis of intercession. As becomes clear in Chapters  and , the Twelver embrace of rational divine justice is qualiﬁed by the school’s doctrine of the Imamate.¯  Such a critique is particular to the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a. According to the Mu‘tazila and the Zayd¯ıs, this principle was primarily concerned with the legal status of those who commit major sins and the Imam’s¯ duty to uphold a just social order. It was not concerned with the probity of the Companions.  Although the narrative of these chapters implies a linear causality through which Mu‘tazilism is appropriated by Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups, this process was quite a bit more complicated. Those readers interested in these complications are directed to the works listed at the end of each chapter.  Although theology underlies many of the core beliefs of modern Sh¯ı‘ism, it is not a central concern in contemporary Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholarship. Readers should be aware that the arguments in this section date from an earlier period.

All Muslims believe that God is just. They differ, however, about the meaning and implications of this simple, succinct statement. The dominant Sunn¯ı position (adopted from Ash‘ar¯ı theology) defines justice through God’s actions and commands. These actions and commands are not bound by any human understanding of justice and can be understood only through revelation. Although it is possible to forward a rationale for a given divine command, such an endeavor is speculative, and its results are entirely con- jectural. If a command seems reasonable, this is the product of mere coinci- dence. In the end, God is just by definition, and His actions and commands need not accord with human reason. By contrast, most of the Sh¯ı‘a (relying on Mu‘tazil¯ı theology) contend that God is just in a manner that can be rationally understood by human beings. It is possible to ascertain the reasons for God’s actions because they must align with human notions of justice. Divine commands must likewise accord with the basic postulates of reason. Cases in which explanations are not evident result from a failure to apply reason in an adequate manner. God is just, and this justice is rationally intelligible. This chapter explores the implications of the Sh¯ı‘¯ıembraceofthe Mu‘tazil¯ı notion of rational divine justice. The first part examines free will and evil, the second part turns to issues of law and jurisprudence, and the third part delves into the connection between justice and the Imamate.¯ The discussion that follows is highly theoretical but provides

 The discussion of theology in this section is purposefully reductionist. Mu‘tazilism and Ash‘arism encompassed a wide range of thinkers who sometimes differed on fundamental principles. Chapters  and  simplify this complexity and diversity to emphasize particularly important fault lines between Sh¯ı‘ism and Sunnism. Those readers interested in a more nuanced explanation of these theological schools are encouraged to consult the works listed at the end of the chapter.  The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıSh¯ı‘a complicate the theological portrait presented in this chapter. As discussed in subsequent chapters (especially Chapters  and ), Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı doctrine increasingly emphasized the Imam’s¯ role as the sole authority in all religious matters. In theory, he could adopt theological positions that contradicted those of his predecessors.



i. free will and evil One of the central implications of the belief in a God whose actions accord with a human understanding of justice is the afﬁrmation of free will. The Sh¯ı‘a align with the Mu‘tazila in arguing that (some degree of) free will must exist because without it, God would be a tyrant. Speciﬁcally, they argue that people must have free will to be held responsible for their actions on the Day of Judgment. It would be the ultimate act of tyranny for God to punish His creatures for the very actions that He compelled them to perform. Because God is just and has promised a reckoning in the Qur’an,¯ it follows that humans possess the volition to obey or disregard divine commands. In constructing their arguments, Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars make use of a number of Qur’anic¯ verses that support free will. A few representative examples include the following:

Lo! We have shown him the way, whether he be grateful or disbelieving. (Q:) They who are idolaters will say, “Had God willed, we would not have ascribed [unto Him] partners, neither would our fathers, nor would we have forbidden aught.” Thus did those who were before them give the lie [to God’s messengers] till they tasted of the fear of Us. Say, “Have you any knowledge that you can adduce for Us? Lo! you follow naught but an opinion; Lo! you only guess.” (Q:)

The ﬁrst of these verses suggests that humans have a choice in belief, whereas the second speciﬁcally denies God’s culpability in the decision to worship idols. Other Qur’anic¯ passages highlight human responsibility for actions and the justice with which God promises to grant reward and mete out punishment.

Whoever does right it is for his soul, and whoever does wrong it is against it. And your Lord is not at all a tyrant to His servants. (Q:) On the Day when every soul will ﬁnd itself confronted with all that it has done of good and all that it has done of evil, [every soul] will long that there might be a mighty space of distance between it and that [evil]. (Q:)

These verses promise a just reckoning of human actions with an emphasis on personal responsibility. Good acts will be rewarded, and evil acts will be punished. In addition to textual arguments, some Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars provide experiential proofs for free will. In doing so, they make use of real-world examples. When a man falls off a roof, he experiences a complete loss of control as he tumbles to the ground. By contrast, walking down a ﬁre escape is clearly a choice and is not accompanied by a feeling of coercion or helplessness. The argument here is that a life in which individuals were compelled by God to act in a particular manner would feel quite different. Humans would not have the perception of free will and choice that is characteristic of our actual existence. Alongside evidence in favor of free will, the Qur’an¯ contains some verses that appear to support compulsion and others that ascribe all actions to God.

Had God willed, He could have made you [all] one nation, but He leads astray whom He wills and guides whom He wills; and you will indeed be asked of what you did. (Q:) For those of you who will to walk straight, you will not, unless [it be] that God wills, the Lord of Creation. (Q:–) Say: “Nothing befalls us save that which God has decreed for us. He is our Protecting Friend. In God, let believers put their trust!” (Q:) What ails you that you become two parties regarding the hypocrites, when God cast them back [to disbelief] because of what they earned? Seek you to guide him whom God has sent astray? He whom God sends astray, for him you cannot ﬁnd a road. (Q:)

According to these verses, God plays a direct role in guiding some of His creatures and leading others astray. They also suggest that God determines the entirety of human action, a view that seems incompatible with the Sh¯ı‘¯ı position. To explain passages that appear to contradict free will, Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars rely on a distinctive interpretation of two important Arabic terms found in

these verses: qadar (measure) and qad. a’¯ (divine decree). These words have a wide range of possible connotations and are utilized for completely different ends in Sunn¯ı theological works. For Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars, they legitimize a limited form of predestination. The modern Twelver scholar Ja‘far Sobhani explains that qadar relates to an “existential limit and extent” that is determined by God. He notes that “before creating a thing, God already knows it in its unmanifest state of latency of potentiality, this being referred to as ‘determination and apportioning in knowledge.’” In other words, qadar signifies the potential or capacity of an individual, which is determined before creation and known only to the Creator. It is up to each individual to develop this potential or make use of this capability. Sobhani defines qad. a’¯ as the “bestowal of definitive existence upon an entity...[that]restsupontheoperationofthelawofcauseandeffect.” This term is often found in reference to God’s direct creation of actions, but here it is utilized to suggest causality. Once an individual decides on a course of action, God enables that action to occur through divine decree. Stated slightly differently, “the divine decree is that whenever man decides upon an action and possesses necessary means to perform it, a divine power brings into effect the accomplishment of the action in question.” This rhetorical move allows for the affirmation of Qur’anic¯ verses that state that God decrees all actions while also preserving the integrity of human free will. The Sh¯ı‘¯ı position on free will can thus be summarized as follows: Because God is just in a manner that aligns with human reason, He would not punish His creatures for compelled actions. This would be an act of tyranny. It follows that humans must have the ability to make their own decisions. Qur’anic¯ verses that intimate predestination refer to the determination of human potential or capacity (qadar) and the affirmation of causality (qad. a’¯ ). Free will also serves as a useful explanation for the existence of evil in the world. It is human action that directly leads to evils such as pain and suffering. God is thereby absolved of any responsibility for evil, the creation of which would constitute an unjust act. Bear in mind that, according to the Sh¯ı‘¯ı view, evil can be ascertained and understood through the use of reason just like justice can. There then remains a need to explain

 Sobhani, Doctrines, . I use Sobhani’s text throughout this book as a source for contemporary Twe l ve r beliefs.  Sobhani, Doctrines, .  Sobhani, Doctrines, .  Sobhani, Doctrines, .

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:08:58, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.006  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam the occurrence of natural disasters and other apparent evils that seem beyond the scope of human action. The tsunami triggered by the Sumatra- Andaman earthquake of December , for example, caused the deaths of nearly a quarter million people. Was this an act of evil? If it was evil, we are left with two equally undesirable possibilities: Either (i) it was caused by human actions, which seems empirically incorrect or (ii) it was caused by God, which contradicts the Sh¯ı‘¯ı (Mu‘tazil¯ı) refusal to ascribe evil acts to God. If it was not evil, then an explanation is still needed to justify the massive death toll that included many innocents (e.g., children). Sh¯ı‘¯ı theologians address this complication in a number of ways. One explanation views evil as a necessary result of the state of nature of the world. The tsunami is neither an act of humans nor an act of God. It is, rather, a necessary consequence of the elements that comprise the world. God had the choice of either creating this world (which must have this potential) or not creating it. He determined that it was better on balance to create it. Another explanation turns on the idea that evil is nonexistent and simply consists of the absence of God. Evil is thus similar to shadow, which lacks a material existence and is defined primarily by a lack of sunlight. The issues of free will and evil connect to a larger problem in the Sh¯ı‘¯ı position – namely, the “limiting of God.” Specifically, the disassociating of God from direct human action and (apparent) evil serves to limit the scope of His power. This dilemma is similar to the classical theological question of whether God can create a rock that is too heavy for Him to pick up. Every answer to this question restricts the omnipotence of God: He is either incapable of creating the rock or unable to lift it. In a similar vein, it might be asked whether God can create a being whose actions He is unable to control or whose behavior He cannot predict with absolute certainty. If God is not responsible for evil, does this mean that actions occur in the world that are outside His control? This paradox of omnipotence is difficult to address with reason alone. Sh¯ı‘¯ı theologians respond by arguing that although God’s ability is absolute, some concepts are necessarily impossible. For example, it is not possible for the number two to be odd or for the number three to be even. These are self-evident truths grounded in nature. The Sunn¯ı (Ash‘ar¯ı) position is not subject to such difficulties. Because God is just by definition and His actions need not accord with a human

 Another potential explanation (rarely used by Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars) emphasizes the sins of the victims of natural disasters. A similar logic sometimes informs discussions of tragedy in the United States among Evangelical Christians.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:08:58, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.006 ‘Adl (Rational Divine Justice)  understanding of justice, questions of free will and evil acquire a different focus grounded firmly in revelation. Predestination is upheld (in theory) by most Sunn¯ı scholars, albeit alongside an acknowledgment of Qur’anic¯ evidence favoring free will. There is no need to resolve this contradiction because the explanation might fall outside the realm of human reason. God may compel an act and then punish for it without being unjust because justice is established only on the basis of His actions. To account for Qur’anic¯ evidence that appears to favor the opposing view, Sunn¯ı scholars developed the concept of kasb (acquisition), which attempted to preserve a form of human volition while upholding God’s omnipotence. A detailed examination of kasb falls outside the scope of this study. It suffices to say that the distinctions between the Sh¯ı‘¯ı and Sunn¯ı positions on free will turn on subtle theological arguments that resist the simple dichotomy between absolute free will and absolute predestination. A similar dynamic informs Sunn¯ı (Ash‘ar¯ı) discussions of the origins of evil. Because God has control over every aspect of creation, humans lack the capacity to characterize His acts as just or evil. This does not mean that Sunn¯ı theologians avoid theodicy altogether. On the contrary, a number of prominent Sunn¯ı scholars directly tackle the problem of evil through a framework grounded in revelation. This task does not, however, hold the same urgency for Sunn¯ı theologians as it does for Sh¯ı‘¯ı theologians, who must provide a rationale for every evil act. From the perspective of the Sh¯ı‘a, the Sunn¯ı position avoids the issue of evil altogether at the cost of a final judgment in which humanity possesses no volition at all.

ii. law and jurisprudence The relationship between rational divine justice and law rests on the question of whether it is possible to determine right and wrong, good and evil, on the basis of reason alone. Imagine a situation in which a boy is raised on an island by apes with no contact with human beings. Will this child be able to arrive at a basic morality on his own? Will he be able to ascertain religious laws in a vacuum? Put differently, are morality and law exclusively tied to revelation, or are they discernible through human reason?

 The Sunn¯ıs would, of course, contest this appraisal of their position.  The philosophers were the ﬁrst to use this example to consider whether it was possible to arrive at an understanding of God through reason alone. See, for example, Ibn T. ufayl’s (d. ) epistle H. ayy ibn Yaqz. an¯ .

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:08:58, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.006  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam Both Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı Muslims hold that there are certain general religious truths so deeply engrained within human beings that they exist independently of revelation. The clearest example is a belief in monothe- ismasexemplifiedbyQ:, which recounts a primordial encounter between God and humanity in which all future generations acknowledge the exclusive sovereignty of God. This episode, known as the Covenant of Alast, testifies to an intrinsic human proclivity (fitra) for monotheism. The verse also establishes the parameters of the relationship between God and humanity. Specifically, human beings must obey God’s commands. This prompts the question of how to ascertain divine commands and discover the specifics of Islamic law. Sh¯ı‘¯ı (and Sunn¯ı) jurisprudence rests on a hierarchy of sources that includes both revelation and reason. The first two sources are the Qur’an¯ and the Sunna. The Qur’an¯ is the literal word of God as revealed to Muh. ammad, whereas the Sunna is the normative example of the Prophet as preserved by the practice of the broader Muslim community or in reports of his statements or actions (h. ad¯ıth). The Qur’an¯ and the Sunna together constitute divine revelation. The third source of law, the consensus (ijma‘¯ ) of the community, is based on a statement ascribed to Muh. ammad that the Muslim community would never agree on an error. The means for determining consensus remain contested in legal circles. Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı jurists disagree regarding the fourth source of Islamic law. According to Sunn¯ı jurists, the fourth source is qiyas¯ , which refers to the application of analogical reasoning to the Qur’an¯ and the Sunna. In this process, revelation sets limits for the use of reason. When confronting a new issue, jurists first search for a relevant textual clue (e.g., a Qur’anic¯ verse or a h. ad¯ıth) and then apply reasoning to broaden its scope. For example, a jurist faced with a drug such as cocaine may justify prohibition through either the Qur’anic¯ injunction against wine or a h. ad¯ıth that condemns intoxication. For Sh¯ı‘¯ı jurists, the fourth source of law is ‘aql, which is defined as reason, both pure and practical. This position, dominant in contemporary Zayd¯ı and Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism, was quite controversial in earlier periods. In the eighth and ninth centuries, many Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars argued that the Imams¯ provided a definitive source of legal knowledge, which was far superior to

 This discussion of Islamic jurisprudence does not follow the standard framework of Muslim works on legal theory. It is rather a structural reformulation designed for nonspecialists, which nevertheless maintains the basic terminology used by Muslim jurists.  The Sh¯ı‘a have additional proof texts that afﬁrm consensus but do not directly cite the Prophet.

iii. the imamate¯ This section examines the connection between the Sh¯ı‘¯ı notion of rational divine justice and the institution of the Imamate.¯ The existence of a rational, just God was often used to establish the necessity of an Imam¯ to lead the community. It was also central to differing Sh¯ı‘¯ı conceptions of the duties and qualiﬁcations of the ofﬁce.

A. Grace or Kindness (Lut.f ) The first line of reasoning that binds the Sh¯ı‘¯ı doctrine of divine justice to the Imamate¯ involves a parallel with prophethood. Because God is just, He desires what is best for humanity and provides many graces to aid and guide His creation. This divine help is formalized in a principle known as lut.f, according to which God always acts in the best interests of human beings. As in the case of free will, this position might be criticized for restricting the scope of God’s power to benevolent action. Proponents, however, argue that they are not placing a constraint on God but merely providing an empirical description of His actions. Given that (i) a lack of benevolence or kindness constitutes a deficiency and (ii) God is not deficient in any way, it naturally follows that His actions benefit humanity. Prophecy is one of the central consequences of God’s lut.f.Sobhani explains the connection in the following terms:

Whenever man is guided to the point where he becomes aware of this purpose [aspiring to God], and pledges himself to undertake the ﬁrst steps leading to its realization, God Himself sees to it that they are indeed accomplished. Without

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:08:58, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.006  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam this divine help, the creation of man would be lacking any means of realizing the purpose of creation. Prophets, then, are products of God’s kindness, sent to human communities to provide guidance, explanations, and regulations for proper conduct. They are symbols of divine benevolence, conveying information that is difficult (at times even impossible) to determine outside of revelation, such as the structure of the daily prayer or the specifications of proper burial. The Qur’an¯ conceives of human history in an essentially prophetic framework, depicting a cyclical pattern of revelation and corruption. The messages brought by prophets are invariably distorted over time, as evident (according to the Qur’an)¯ in the corrupted extant forms of the Hebrew Bible and the Gospels. In the past, God rectified such distortions by sending new prophets to renew His message. Muh. ammad marked the culmination of this cyclical vision of history, providing the final revelation for humanity. This finality is established by Q:, in which Muh. ammad is described as “the Seal of the Prophets,” a term interpreted by most Muslims as marking the definitive end of prophecy. There is a general consensus among the Zayd¯ı, Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı, and Twelver Sh¯ı‘a that the institution of prophethood is predicated on the principle of lut.f.TheIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and the Twelvers, however, go one step further by asserting the need for a proper interpretation of the final revelation. If such an interpretation does not exist, then there is no point to revelation at all. In the latter scenario, the Qur’an¯ risks falling into the same cycle of distortion and corruption that marked previous revelations but now without the possibility of a new prophet to renew the divine message. This establishes the need for an Imam,¯ whose central function is not to bring new revelation but rather to provide its proper interpretation. For the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and the Twelvers, the argument in support of the Imamate¯ is identical to that in support of prophethood. Both institutions are products ofthekindness(lut.f ) of God; the prophet brings revelation, while the Imam¯ ensures its preservation. As will become clear in the next chapter, such a knowledge-centered conception of the Imam’s¯ role necessitates a number of distinctive theological

 Sobhani, Doctrines, .  Later Twelver commentators delegated the responsibility for preserving proper interpretation to the larger Muslim community.  Note that the arguments presented here exclude cosmology. There is an entire corpus of literature (especially in the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı and Twelver traditions) that emphasizes the cosmological role of the prophets and the Imams¯ as far exceeding mere textual interpretation. This view is quite common in secondary literature and referenced in greater detail in Chapters  and .

B. Enjoining Good and Forbidding Wrong A second line of reasoning that links divine justice to the Imamate¯ involves the principle of enjoining good and forbidding wrong. Once again, the argument begins with the premise that God is just in a manner that humans can understand and desires the establishment of a just social and political order. Because human beings have the intrinsic ability to differentiate between justice and tyranny, they must work to establish just rule in any given context. This imperative is strengthened by two concepts discussed earlier – namely, free will and the origins of evil. Speciﬁcally, Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars reject the idea of a divine mandate for the existing political order. If the government is oppressive, then it is evil and clearly opposed to the will of a God who desires only justice. As free agents, individuals must work to overthrow an illegitimate political order and to replace it with one that better aligns with the divine will. The human responsibility to oppose tyranny and to support justice is embodied in the principle of enjoining good and forbidding wrong. This idea is endorsed by a broad range of Muslim groups, but its conceptualiza- tion (and implementation) vary signiﬁcantly. Some frame it as a call to speak up when witnessing injustice or sin; others reduce it to an opposi- tional feeling in the heart. Political order plays a decisive role in the actualization of enjoining/forbidding, with many Sunn¯ı and some Sh¯ı‘¯ıgroups excusing individuals faced with political coercion or the threat of bodily harm. An activist interpretation of this principle, however, rejects political contingencies and advocates armed rebellion against a ruling tyrant. Such a movement requires a leader who possesses the requisite credentials and political skills for organizing the opposition and constructing a new order. This leader is the Imam.¯

 These differences are examined in detail by Michael Cook in his Commanding Right and Forbidding Wrong in Islamic Thought.

C. Final Notes about Rational Divine Justice and the Imamate¯ Rational divine justice thus leads to two potential arguments for the Imamate,¯ the first based on knowledge and the second concerned with political management. The first connects God’s kindness or grace (lut.f)to the sending of prophets, who bring revelation, and Imams,¯ who interpret that revelation. The second establishes the necessity of enjoining good and forbidding wrong under the leadership of an Imam.¯ The Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups under consideration differed in the degree to which they emphasized each of these arguments. The Zayd¯ıs adopted a highly political view of the Imamate¯ that minimized (without dismissing) qualifications based on knowledge. The Twelvers deemphasized the political dimensions of the office in the ninth century while highlighting the Imam’s¯ role as the sole source of religious knowledge. The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs initially championed the Imam’s¯ political and knowledge functions alike before ultimately (after many centuries) framing his authority primarily in terms of knowledge.

iv. conclusion The central distinguishing theological feature of Sh¯ı‘ism is the belief in rational divine justice. Contrary to the dominant Sunn¯ı position that God’s actions and commands deﬁne the nature of justice, the Sh¯ı‘a contend that God is just in a manner that humans can rationally understand. This has a number of practical consequences. First and foremost, it necessitates (i) free will, because God cannot justly punish humans for actions that He compels them to perform, and (ii) an explanation for evil that does not

 There were a few early groups that extended this qualiﬁcation to include other genetic lines from the Prophet’s clan of BanuH¯ ashim,¯ but these lie outside the scope of the current study.

suggested readings for further study

The following works provide a history of the early Sh¯ı‘a and the first four caliphates: Martin Hinds, Studies in Early Islamic History, ed. Jere Bacharach, Lawrence Conrad, and Patricia Crone (Princeton, NJ: Darwin, ). Marshall Hodgson, The Venture of Islam (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ), vol. , particularly – (“The Early Muslim State”) and – (“The Islamic Opposition”). Wilferd Madelung, The Succession to Muhammad (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni- versity Press, ). The following works provide a general discussion of walaya¯ : Encyclopaedia of Islam, nd ed., s.v. “Wilaya”¯ (Dien and Walker). Maria Dakake, The Charismatic Community (Albany: State University of New York Press, ). For the Imamate,¯ see Encyclopaedia of Islam, nd ed., s.v. “Imama”¯ (Madelung). The following works focus specifically on the Zayd¯ıs (Z), the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs (I), and the Twelver s ( T ): Mohammad Ali Amir-Moezzi, The Divine Guide in Early Shi‘ism,translatedby David Streight (Albany: State University of New York Press, ). (I) Michael Cooperson, Classical Arabic Biography (Cambridge: Cambridge Univer- sity Press, ), chapter .(T) Encyclopaedia of Islam, nd ed., s.v. “Zaydiyya” (Madelung). (Z) Encyclopaedia of Islam, nd ed., s.v. “Isma‘¯ ¯ıliyya” (Madelung). (I) Farhad Daftary, “The Earliest Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs,” Arabica  (): –.(I) Farhad Daftary, The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), chapter .(I) Najam Haider, “Zaydism: A Theological and Political Survey,” Religion Compass  (): –.(Z) Bernard Haykel, Revival and Reform in Islam (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –.(Z) Bernard Haykel and Aron Zysow, “What Makes a Madhhab a Madhhab,” Arabica  (): –.(Z) Etan Kohlberg, Belief and Law in Imam¯ ¯ıSh¯ı‘ism (Brookfield, VT: Gower, ), particularly chapters , ,and.(T)

Memories matter. They reflect a community’s understanding of its origins, legitimizing the present through a connection with the past. Important narratives acquire a cosmic significance, often authorizing the emergence of new communal identities. The tellings and retellings of these narratives embody the changing situation of a community. The same story used to advocate patience in one period might become a call to arms in another. This section focuses on two types of historical narratives, the first central to the construction of a broad Sh¯ı‘¯ı identity and the second pivotal in its fragmentation. As noted in Section , later Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars provided a theological justification for the Imamate¯ through arguments rooted in the Mu‘tazil¯ı doctrine of rational divine justice. These arguments emphasized both the political (in the case of Zayd¯ıs) and the knowledge (in the case of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and Twelvers) dimensions of the Imamate.¯ In the early history of the Sh¯ı‘a, by contrast, there is scant evidence of Mu‘tazil¯ı influence, and discussions of the Imamate¯ are largely embedded in historical narratives. Because little historical material survives from the seventh through ninth centuries, most extant Sh¯ı‘¯ı accounts are informed by later theological developments. His- torical events thus provide a canvas for the articulation of Sh¯ı‘¯ı identity. Stories of the past function as proof texts meant to uphold the veracity of Sh¯ı‘¯ı doctrinal beliefs. Section  explores Sh¯ı‘¯ı historical narratives that (i) held the community together and (ii) contributed to its eventual fragmentation. Chapter  examines those events that helped crystallize a general Sh¯ı‘¯ı identity, specifically the Prophet’s purported designation of ‘Al¯ı as his successor (on repeated occasions) and the death of H. usayn in Karbala in . The remembrance

 This phenomenon is certainly not speciﬁc to the Sh¯ı‘a. Similar claims may be made about a range of Islamic (e.g., Sunn¯ı, Kharijite) and non-Islamic (e.g., Christian, Jewish) religious groups. It may also be extended to secular projects of nation-building.



Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:27:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.002  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam of these episodes has been institutionalized in elaborate ritual practices across the Sh¯ı‘¯ı world. Chapter  focuses on incidents that split the Sh¯ı‘a, speciﬁcally disputes over the identity of the Imam¯ rooted in rival political and religious claims. These include the revolt of Zayd b. ‘Al¯ıin,the contested succession to Ja‘far al-S.adiq¯ in , and the disappearance of the twelfth Imam¯ in .

Two historical narratives are shared by all Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups. The ﬁrst focuses on the succession to the Prophet and, speciﬁcally, the community’s elevation of Abu¯ Bakr to the caliphate over the superior claims of ‘Al¯ı. The second centers on the death of H. usayn (the Prophet’s grandson) and a small contingent of his family and followers at the hands of an Umayyad army in . The discussion that follows explores the importance of each of these narratives in the construction of a distinct Sh¯ı‘¯ı identity.

i. the succession to muh. ammad According to the Sh¯ı‘a, the Muslim community’s rejection of ‘Al¯ı marked a fundamental departure from Muh. ammad’s desires and represented a loss of legitimate political and religious leadership. As mentioned previously, this event is often cited as the starting point for the Sunn¯ı-Sh¯ı‘a division. In reality, however, its signiﬁcance emerged gradually through its incorpora- tion into a growing corpus of polemical arguments. The most important of these arguments combined (i) events and statements from the Prophet’s life with (ii) general expectations for succession embedded in the Qur’an.¯ The Twelvers and Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs were particularly interested in historical episodes that suggested that the Prophet had explicitly appointed ‘Al¯ı as his successor. This was a product of their requirement that an Imam¯ be formally designated (nas..s) by his predecessor (see Chapter ). The Zayd¯ıs were bound by no such requirement and offered a more subtle case for ‘Al¯ı’s claims grounded primarily in Qur’anic¯ expectations. Each of these arguments is discussed in this section.

 Bear in mind that Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups often offer a single cohesive justiﬁcation for ‘Al¯ı’s succession that combines elements from both the historical and the Qur’anic¯ arguments.



A. The Prophet-Historical Case for Succession Muh. ammad was born around  in the town of Mecca near the western coast of the Arabian Peninsula. Mecca was a center for trade in the region and home to the Ka‘ba, a particularly venerated local shrine that consisted of a square structure with a black meteorite embedded in one corner. Muslim sources claimed that the Ka‘ba was originally built by the Prophet Ibrah¯ ¯ım (Abraham) and his son Isma‘¯ ¯ıl (Ishmael). By the sixth century, however, it anchored a shrine complex that held a collection of idols representing local deities. Mecca was dominated by Quraysh, a tribe that had begun to expand its regional power through a nexus of military alliances, economic dominance, and religious influence. Muh. ammad was a member of the Banu¯ Hashim,¯ a highly respected and well-positioned clan of the Quraysh, but one that had been weakened by the premature deaths of some of its leading male figures. Muh. ammad was orphaned at an early age and eventually raised in the household of his paternal uncle, AbuT¯ . alib.¯ He began his career as a merchant, working for Khad¯ıja, a rich widow many years older than he. She was impressed with his business acumen and honesty, and the two eventually married. Muh. ammad spent a great deal of time meditating in the mountains outside of Mecca. On one such occasion, nearing the age of forty (around ), he had a religious experience during which an angel spoke to him on behalf of God. This was the first of many similar experiences over the

 Those readers interested in revisionist understandings of the earliest period should consult the reading list at the end of the chapter.  Here and in all subsequent references, I utilize the Muslim version of names for Biblical ﬁgures. In the interests of clarity, I include the Biblical names in parentheses.  This origin account was coupled with claims that the Arabs were the descendants of Ibrah¯ ¯ım through Isma‘¯ ¯ıl.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 13:36:50, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.009 Community  next twenty-two years of his life. The resulting revelations were ultimately compiled into a single book known today as the Qur’an.¯ Muh. ammad did not initially publicize his encounters with God. He divulged the revelations only to Khad¯ıja (who supported and encouraged him) and a limited circle of friends and family. In ,Muh. ammad was instructed to spread his message to the larger Meccan community. From  through , he gathered a small but significant following that increasingly provoked the ire of the leadership of the Quraysh. It is possible that they saw the new movement as a direct challenge to their political power. According to the norms of Arab tribal society, however, they could not attack Muh. ammad without the consent of his uncle, AbuT¯ . alib.¯ When such consent was not forthcoming, the Meccan leadership targeted those Muslims who lacked clan protection, such as slaves and social outcasts. With the deaths of AbuT¯ . alib¯ and Khad¯ıja in ,Muh. ammad lost both his protection and his two biggest supporters. He was now in a vulnerable position subject to physical assault and even death at the hands of his enemies. The next three years were spent finding a new home for the nascent Muslim community. The ideal opportunity arose in Yathrib (now called Medina), which was plagued by tribal violence and factionalism. The exact reasons for the town’s receptivity to Muh. ammad are unclear, but it appears that he accepted the role of a mediator in exchange for (i) recognition of the Muslim community (umma) as a legitimate social actor and (ii) a guarantee of military support in case of hostilities with outside forces. In ,Muh. ammad and a large number of his followers migrated to Yathrib, an event that marks the start of the Muslim calendar. Over the next ten years, the Muslim community carved out an independent identity through the elaboration of distinctive laws and rituals. The times, structure, and direction of the daily prayer were established. The basic parameters of criminal and family law were articulated. Over- all, a tribal identity rooted in polytheism was gradually challenged by a religious identity grounded in the belief in a single God. The same period witnessed an escalation in hostilities between the Muslims in Yathrib (Med- ina) and the Quraysh in Mecca. A series of important battles in  (the Battle of Badr),  (the Battle of Uh. ud), and  (the Battle of Khan- daq) resulted in a decisive shift of power in favor of the Muslims. By , Mecca was no longer a threat, and the city fell to the Muslims almost without a fight. Most of the remaining Quraysh converted to Islam and were smoothly integrated into the Muslim community. The Prophet died two years later in  in Yathrib (Medina) at the approximate age of sixty-two.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 13:36:50, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.009  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam The biographical narrative presented here is accepted by all Muslims. However, Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı historical works extend and elaborate this template to produce larger polemical narratives. These narratives were subsequently incorporated into the earliest layers of the Muslim historical tradition. The discussion that follows focuses on the Sh¯ı‘¯ı version of history. Specifically, it documents the historical proofs that the Sh¯ı‘a use to establish ‘Al¯ı’s political and religious claims. The Sh¯ı‘¯ı narrative begins with ‘Al¯ı’s birth. Sh¯ı‘¯ı and (many) Sunn¯ı sources agree that ‘Al¯ı was born around  inside the Ka‘ba (the House of God in Mecca toward which Muslims pray) when his mother (Fat¯.ima bt. Asad) went into labor during a trip to the shrine. The Sh¯ı‘¯ı account includes a number of additional details, such as a report that the structure split open to provide her refuge. She emerged from the Ka‘ba three days later with a baby in her hands. The baby’s eyes remained closed until the Prophet arrived and performed a traditional ceremony in which he placed a partially chewed date in its mouth. Upon opening his eyes, the first face that the baby saw was that of Muh. ammad, who then named him ‘Al¯ı. In addition to the obvious miraculous connotations of the narrative, the Sh¯ı‘a interpret the date ritual as a symbolic transfer of knowledge and authority from the Prophet to ‘Al¯ı. A second mark of distinction for ‘Al¯ı involves his upbringing in the household of the Prophet. Ibn Ish. aq¯ ascribes this to a famine that struck Mecca during ‘Al¯ı’s childhood. Muh. ammad and his paternal uncle, ‘Abbas,¯ offered to alleviate the financial burden on AbuT¯ . alib¯ (‘Al¯ı’s father) by each providing for one of his sons. The Prophet took ‘Al¯ı and raised him in accordance with the teachings of Islam. Ibn Ish. aq¯ notes that “‘Al¯ı was the first male to believe in the apostle of God, to pray with him and then believe in his divine message, when he was a boy of ten.” ‘Al¯ı’s status as the first male adherent to Islam (after the Prophet), however, was not uncontested as competing accounts accorded the honor to Abu¯ Bakr. The polemical dimensions of this disagreement are obvious. The Sh¯ı‘a eventually argued

 I exclude charismatic elements including miraculous accounts of angels washing Muh. ammad’s heart as a child or of Syrian monks identifying him as a new prophet. For these, see Guillaume’s translation of Ibn Ish. aq’s¯ (d. ) biography of the Prophet, one of the first extant sources in the Arabic historical tradition, which was redacted and preserved by Ibn Hisham¯ (d. ).  Both Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı views of the succession are detectable in Ibn Ish. aq’s¯ biography.  There are admittedly some (Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı and Twelver) accounts of the lives of ‘Al¯ı and his descendants that begin before creation. The current discussion, however, is primarily interested in a broader consensus Sh¯ı‘¯ı narrative.  Guillaume, Life, .  Some Sunn¯ı sources offer a compromise position by making ‘Al¯ı the first child and AbuBakrthe¯ first man to accept Islam.

The prophet said, “O Sons of ‘Abd al-Mut.t.alib [his extended clan], I know of no Arab who has come to his people with a nobler message than mine. I have brought you the best of this world and the next. God has ordered me to call you to him. So which of you will cooperate with me in this matter [and be] my brother, my executor (was.¯ı), and my successor (khal¯ıfa)?” The men remained silent and I [‘Al¯ı], though the youngest, most rheumy-eyed, fattest in body, and thinnest in legs, said, “O Prophet of God, I will be your helper in this matter.” He laid his hand on the back of my neck and said, “This is my brother, my executor, and my successor among you. Hearken to him and obey him.” The men got up laughing and said to AbuT¯ . alib,¯ “He has ordered you to listen to your son and obey him!”

This explicit identiﬁcation of ‘Al¯ı as successor is recorded by Ibn Ish. aq¯ and serves as one of the cornerstones of the Sh¯ı‘¯ı argument for formal designation. The episode occurred at the start of Muh. ammad’s mission, further reinforcing ‘Al¯ı’s leadership credentials from an early age. It is important to note that the passage does not mention Abu¯ Bakr or any other prominent Companion. The next twenty years saw a series of incidents that the Sh¯ı‘a consider indicative of ‘Al¯ı’s special standing. On the night of the Prophet’s ﬂight to Yathrib (Medina) in ,‘Al¯ı slept in his bed to fool a team of assassins sent by the Meccan leadership to kill Muh. ammad. As the Prophet worked toward building a cohesive community in Medina, he decided to pair each of his Meccan followers with a Medinan local as brothers. According to the Sh¯ı‘¯ı tradition, the only exception to this rule was ‘Al¯ı, whom the Prophet chose for himself. In ,‘Al¯ı asked the Prophet for permission to marry his daughter Fat¯.ima. Sh¯ı‘¯ı and (some) Sunn¯ı accounts note that the

 Guillaume, Life, – (with some changes).

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 13:36:50, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.009  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam Prophet had previously refused similar requests by Abu¯ Bakr and ‘Umar. The Prophet immediately agreed and put the matter to his daughter, who expressed her acceptance. The Sh¯ı‘¯ı narrative emphasizes that the marriage was contracted through the will of God, who chose ‘Al¯ı to be the forebear of all the Prophet’s descendants. ‘Al¯ı’s credentials were also established on the battlefield. ‘Al¯ı was the standard-bearer for the Muslim army in every major military engagement, an honor bestowed on him by the Prophet and a clear marker (according to the Sh¯ı‘a) of his special status. He played a prominent role in the Battle of Badr (),wherehewasoneofthreeMuslimstoengageinsinglecombat with the enemy before full-scale hostilities. He similarly distinguished himself in the Battles of Uh. ud (), Khandaq (), and H. unayn (). The most famous of ‘Al¯ı’s military exploits, however, occurred during the Battle of Khaybar (), which pitted the Muslims against the rich Jews of the oasis town of that name. According to the Sh¯ı‘¯ı and Sunn¯ı accounts, ‘Al¯ı was not initially expected to participate because of an illness in his eyes that hampered his vision. In the first few days of the battle, Abu¯ Bakr and ‘Umar held the standard of the army but proved incapable of overcoming the enemy. Muh. ammad then declared that the next morning, he would bestow the standard on one who “does not run away from the battlefield and will not return until God grants him victory.” The next day, the Prophet called for ‘Al¯ı and cured his blindness by applying some of his saliva directly on ‘Al¯ı’s eyes. In the Sh¯ı‘¯ı narrative, ‘Al¯ı subsequently led the Muslim army to victory through a series of almost superhuman feats. The historical tradition also contains numerous statements of ‘Al¯ı’s merit ascribed to the Prophet but not situated in any specific moment. With the exception of the first, these general affirmations are often severed from historical context. Some were mentioned in Chapter  and cover not just ‘Al¯ı but the family of the Prophet as a whole. The most important such traditions include the following: (i) The tradition of al-thaqalayn: “I am leaving you with two safeguards (thaqalayn), the Book of God and the members of my household (ahl al-bayt). As long as you cling to these two, you will not go astray.” (ii) The tradition of al-kisa’¯ : This detailed account refers to the gathering of Muh. ammad, ‘Al¯ı, Fat¯.ima, H. asan, and H. usayn under the cloak (kisa’¯ ) of the Prophet and their subsequent blessing by God.

 Note that Fat¯.ima was the only offspring of the Prophet with children that survived to adulthood.

The first four traditions provide proof of ‘Al¯ı’s successorship by emphasizing the elevated status of the Prophet’s family (ahl al-bayt). ‘Al¯ıisplaced at the head of a household that provides exclusive refuge from divine punishment and the sole means of salvation. As mentioned in Chapter ,Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars drew on these traditions to extend the concept of walaya¯ (a charismatic loyalty initially associated with ‘Al¯ı) to his family and descendants. The fifth tradition implicitly suggests ‘Al¯ı’s role as successor by drawing parallels to Har¯ un¯ (Aaron). Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars note that Har¯ un¯ was designated a prophet in the Qur’an¯ and helped Mus¯ a¯ in administration, playing a part similar to that of a minister. Although the office of prophethood is closed (i.e., Muh. ammad is the final prophet), this does not curtail ‘Al¯ı’s rights to Har¯ un’s¯ remaining powers, which, they argue, include those of temporal and spiritual succession. The sixth tradition is more ambiguous because there is no mention of successorship. It does, however, legitimize ‘Al¯ı’s knowledge credentials through a direct association with the Prophet. This tradition is particularly prevalent in Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı and Twelver sources, which place great emphasis on the knowledge duties of the Imam.¯ The historical events and traditions detailed here are rarely forwarded as definitive proof that ‘Al¯ı was the rightful successor to the Prophet. Rather, they are used by Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars to build anticipation for an impending formal announcement. Each incident adds to ‘Al¯ı’s credentials in a logical fashion. He is the first male to respond to the Prophet’s message. He is raised by the Prophet. He supports the Prophet publicly as a child. He marries the Prophet’s daughter. He represents the Prophet in battle and leads the Muslims to victory. He is the subject of the Prophet’s love and adulation. Becoming the Prophet’s successor, however, requires a public declaration. For the Sh¯ı‘a, this declaration occurred during the Prophet’s final pilgrimage in  at a location outside Mecca known as Ghad¯ır Khumm.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 13:36:50, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.009  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam The most elaborate early Sh¯ı‘¯ı account of the events of Ghad¯ır Khumm is found in the Kitab¯ al-Irshad¯ (The Book of Guidance) of the seminal tenth-century Twelver scholar al-Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd (d. ). The narrative begins with the Prophet dispatching ‘Al¯ı at the head of a delegation to collect tribute from Yemen. When ‘Al¯ı returns, he joins Muh. ammad,whoisinthe process of performing the pilgrimage to Mecca. The Prophet takes ‘Al¯ıashis partner and they complete the rites together. Interspersed in the narrative are incidents that highlight ‘Al¯ı’s superiority over other Companions. In one instance, the men in the delegation to Yemen approach the Prophet to complain of ‘Al¯ı’s overly strict adherence to God’s law. In another, the Prophet rebukes ‘Umar for his refusal to follow a command related to ritual purity. By contrast, Muh. ammad repeatedly praises ‘Al¯ı for his exemplary and faultless behavior. Al-Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd’s narrative culminates with the Prophet ordering the large convoy of pilgrims to stop at Ghad¯ır Khumm, a marshy area located between Mecca and Medina. The Sh¯ı‘¯ı sources emphasize the direness of the location to lend the occasion a sense of urgency. It is as if the Prophet is intent on performing a task (or making an announcement) that cannot wait for the caravan to reach a more pleasant stopping point. Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars offer a number of additional reasons for this decision. Perhaps the notoriously hot and uncomfortable conditions were meant to brand the moment in the memory of the pilgrims? Perhaps the pilgrims would soon part ways and the Prophet wanted many witnesses? Al-Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd ascribes the decision to the revelation of Q:, which reads: O Messenger, deliver that which has been sent down to you from your Lord; for if you do not, you will not have delivered His Message. God will protect you from men. God guides not the unbelievers. The Prophet interpreted the verse as a divine command to proclaim ‘Al¯ı as his successor. He immediately stopped the caravan, erected a platform, and arranged for his words to be broadcast by word of mouth through the large gathering. The account of the subsequent speech is worth quoting at length: He [the Prophet] then began to address the people. He praised and gloriﬁed God, and preached most eloquently. He gave the community news of his own death, saying, “I have been summoned, and it is nearly the moment for me to answer. The time has come for me to depart from you. I leave behind me among you two things; if you cleave to them, you will never go astray – that

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 13:36:50, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.009 Community  is, the Book of God and my offspring from my family (ahl al-bayt). They will  never scatter until they lead you to me at the waters (H. awd. ).” Then he called out at the top of his voice: “Am I not more appropriate [to rule] you than yourselves?” “By God, yes!” they answered. He went on speaking continuously without any interruption and, taking both arms of the Commander of the Faithful [‘Al¯ı] and raising them so that the white of his armpits could be seen, said, “Of whomever I am the master (mawla¯), this man, ‘Al¯ı, is his master (mawla¯). O God, befriend whoever befriends him, be hostile to whoever opposes him, support whoever supports him, and desert whoever deserts him.” Then [the Prophet] came down. . . . He led them in the midday prayer. Then he sat in his tent and ordered ‘Al¯ı to sit opposite him. He [the Prophet] ordered the Muslims to go in group after group to congratulate him [‘Al¯ı] on his position and to acknowledge his command over the faithful. They did that. The first part of the Prophet’s speech incorporates the tradition of al- thaqalayn that was mentioned earlier in this chapter and in Chapter . Although it honors the family of the Prophet, it does so without defini- tively affirming ‘Al¯ı’s claim to succession. The second part (also mentioned in Chapter ) equates ‘Al¯ı’s authority over the community to that of the Prophet. This reading turns on the meaning of the term mawla¯, which the Sh¯ı‘a understand here as “master” (with political and religious connotations) and the Sunn¯ıs simply as “friend” (with no connotations of distinction or authority). The Sh¯ı‘a imbue the word with an almost cosmic significance by linking it to the theological doctrine of walaya¯ , which (as showninChapter) denotes a charismatic bond of loyalty between the Sh¯ı‘a and the entirety of the Prophet’s family, including ‘Al¯ı. Al-Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd works to dispel any lingering doubts or ambiguities about the meaning of the Prophet’s words. He relates that after ‘Al¯ıhad received congratulations, H. assan¯ b. Thabit¯ (a famous poet and Compan- ion) stood on elevated ground before the Prophet and recounted the day’s events. His rendition included the following line not found in the original account: “He [the Prophet] said to him [‘Al¯ı], ‘Arise, ‘Al¯ı, I am content that you should be Imam¯ and guide after me.’” Rather than object to

 According to the Muslim tradition, the term H. awd. refers to a basin of water at which Muh. ammad will meet his community on the day of resurrection. See Encyclopaedia of Islam, nd ed., s.v. “H. awd.” (Wensinck).  Al-Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd, Irshad¯ , –.

this addition, the Prophet praised H. assan¯ and, in doing so, embraced this interpretation of his words. The implication of the event was thus made clear: the declaration of Ghad¯ır Khumm explicitly appointed ‘Al¯ıasboth the Prophet’s successor and the first Imam.¯ The historical narrative presented here was influenced by Sh¯ı‘¯ı theological concerns, particularly the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı/Twelver belief in an inerrant Imam.¯ Recall the argument (in Chapter ) that the community required access to a correct interpretation of the religious source texts to avoid the deviations and mistakes of previous monotheistic communities (i.e., the Jews and the Christians). It was impossible, however, for an imperfect Muslim community to recognize the perfect Imam.¯ In fact, the Imam’s¯ identity could be determined only through a formal designation (nas..s) by the Prophet, acting on the orders of God. It was unthinkable that God or His Prophet would conceal this critical information. Consequently, Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı and Twelver historical sources constructed the life of the Prophet in a manner that continually emphasized ‘Al¯ı’s superiority. Every honor was framed as proof of ‘Al¯ı’s excellence and indicative of his right to the succession. Still, a formal declaration was necessary to dispel any lingering doubts and to quell potential controversy. It is the events at Ghad¯ır Khumm that firmly and unambiguously establish ‘Al¯ı’s claim to political and religious authority for the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and the Twelvers. Remembrance of the Ghad¯ır Khumm pronouncement serves as one of the distinctive celebrations that demarcate the Sh¯ı‘a from the Sunn¯ıs. The events are collectively known as the ‘¯Id (festival) of al-Ghad¯ır, and they are commemorated on the eighteenth day of the final month of the Muslim calendar (Dhual-H¯ . ijja). Historically, rulers who claimed a Sh¯ı‘¯ıpedigreeutilized‘¯Id al-Ghad¯ır to further their political legitimacy. In ,theBuyid¯ Mu‘izz al-Dawla instituted the first public celebration of ‘¯Id al-Ghad¯ır in Baghdad despite protests from large segments of the urban  population. In ,theIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıFat¯.imid ruler al-Mu‘izz institutionalized the commemoration of ‘¯Id al-Ghad¯ır in Cairo, where it remained one of the most important religious festivals into the thirteenth century. Over time, the festival became a flashpoint for Sunn¯ı-Sh¯ı‘¯ı tensions, occasionally leading to street violence. Some non-Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups in Baghdad even developed competing festivals to extol Abu¯ Bakr’s close relationship with the Prophet. Although these non-Sh¯ı‘¯ı celebrations have not survived into the modern period, ‘¯Id al-Ghad¯ır retains a seminal importance for the contemporary

 The Buyids,¯ mentioned in Chapter ,wereaZayd¯ıSh¯ı‘¯ı dynasty, originating in the Daylam region of the southern Caspian Sea, who ruled Baghdad from  to .

B. The Qur’anic¯ Expectation Case for Succession The foregoing historical argument uses the Prophet’s biography to create a narrative culminating in ‘Al¯ı’s designation as successor at Ghad¯ır Khumm. For the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and Twelvers, such a designation is a necessary consequence of their belief in the Imam¯ as an indispensable and inerrant interpreter of revelation and a source of religious guidance. Given their emphasis on the political duties of the Imam,¯ the Zayd¯ıs are not as invested in establishing ‘Al¯ı’s formal appointment. In fact, a significant portion of early Zayd¯ıs argued that the proofs for ‘Al¯ı’s political and religious authority were implicit. A careful consideration of the facts after Muh. ammad’s death pointedto‘Al¯ı’s succession, but this conclusion was far from self-evident. Thus, the decision of most Companions to support Abu¯ Bakr over ‘Al¯ıwas a mistake in judgment and reasoning. It did not, however, reach the level of apostasy. Although Zayd¯ı scholars certainly cited some of the historical proofs mentioned previously, they felt that the strongest evidence for ‘Al¯ı’s succession was embedded in the text of the Qur’an¯ itself. The Qur’anic¯ case for ‘Al¯ı’s succession incorporates many of the verses mentioned here and in Chapter  butweavesthemtogetherinaninnovative manner. It begins with an affirmation of the general importance of familial relations in the Qur’an.¯ Specifically, the Qur’an¯ entitles family members to a share of the religious poor-tax (zakat¯ ) of their kin (Q:,Q:)and recommends their inclusion in the settlement of inheritance (Q:–). It also stipulates the kind treatment of blood relatives in its rendering of God’s covenant with the Israelites (Q:). This familial preference is contingent on faith: the refusal of Ibrah¯ ¯ım’s (Abraham’s) father (Q:) and Nuh¯ . ’s (Noah’s) son (Q:–) to believe in God’s message effectively severed their bonds of kinship. Overall, the Qur’an¯ elevates family ties above those of friendship or alliance (Q:,Q:), emphasizing their persistence through personal grudges or petty arguments (Q:). The importance of family also features in Qur’anic¯ narratives of the lives of past prophets. The familial unit is, in fact, the central conduit for

 Notably, later Zayd¯ıs moved away from this view and argued (in line with the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and the Twelvers) that ‘Al¯ı’s designation was clear and unambiguous.  The Qur’anic¯ argument that follows is indebted to Madelung, Succession, –. For translations of relevant Qur’anic¯ passages, see the Appendix.

InsofarastheQur’an¯ expresses the thoughts of Muh. ammad, it is evident that he could not have considered Abu¯ Bakr his natural successor or have been pleased by his succession. The Qur’an¯ certainly does not fully reﬂect Muh. ammad’s views about the men and women surrounding him and his attitude towards them. Yet he could not have seen his succession essentially other than in the light of narrations of the Qur’an¯ about the succession of the earlier prophets, just as he saw his own mission as a prophet, the resistance of his people with which he met, and his ultimate success by divine grace in the light of the experience of the former prophets as related in the Qur’an.¯ These earlier prophets considered it a supreme divine favour to be succeeded by their offspring or close kin for this they implored their Lord.

 Such an interpretation is not speciﬁc to the Sh¯ı‘a alone. Sunn¯ı exegetical works offer similar glosses.  Madelung, Succession, –.

C. Summary The arguments for ‘Al¯ı’s succession presented in this section are found in the polemical works of all Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups. For every Sh¯ı‘¯ı claim, however, thereisaSunn¯ı counterclaim based on a radically different interpretation of the same historical episode. The Sh¯ı‘¯ı view of the declaration at Ghad¯ır Khumm is countered by a Sunn¯ı claim that the event was intended to improve ‘Al¯ı’s standing at a time when he was particularly unpopular. The Sh¯ı‘¯ı argument of Qur’anic¯ expectations is met by a Sunn¯ı argument that Muh. ammad was the final prophet and thus had no lineal heirs. Most Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars creatively supplement historical proofs with Qur’anic¯ verses to produce polemical narratives that utilize aspects of both arguments. The choice to highlight one line of reasoning and dismiss another reflects the distinctive theological positions of individual Sh¯ı‘¯ıgroups. The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı and the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a are partial to the argument drawn from the Prophet’s biography. This is because of their emphasis on the Imam’s¯ role as the exclusive source of proper religious guidance. As noted earlier (and in Chapter ), the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı/Twelver Sh¯ı‘a hold to an understanding of God’s justice that requires the presence of an Imam¯ to provide inerrant interpretations of the final revelation. Formal designation is the only way for a flawed community to be certain of the identity of the Imam.¯ Consequently, the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and the Twelvers highlight biographical accounts of ‘Al¯ı’s interactions with the Prophet, expecially the episode at Ghad¯ır Khumm. The importance of this declaration is such that it is annually celebrated in Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı and Twelver communities. By contrast, the argument drawn from Qur’anic¯ expectations is particularly resonant with the Zayd¯ıSh¯ı‘a. Recall that the Zayd¯ıs reject the Imam’s¯ inerrancy (‘is.ma), which means that the Imam¯ is identified not on the basis of his perfect knowledge but on his scholarly credentials, military skills, and establishment of justice. Because the Zayd¯ıs do not, in general, require formal designation, they are not as heavily invested in the events of

 This is not to say that the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and the Twelvers completely neglect Qur’anic¯ evidence. They certainly cite Qur’anic¯ passages, but their arguments often center on events from the Prophet’s life.

ii. the tragedy at karbala

In ,H. usayn b. ‘Al¯ı (the Prophet’s grandson) and a small contingent of his family and followers were killed by an Umayyad army at a site occupied by the present-day town of Karbala in southern Iraq. Sh¯ı‘¯ı reports of the massacre are graphic and highlight Umayyad oppression and greed. These accounts vary in form and content, reﬂecting the differing theological concerns of individual Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups. The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and the Twelvers frame H. usayn’s death in almost apocalyptic terms, while the Zayd¯ıs consider it the ﬁrst in a series of failed ‘Alid rebellions. The Twelvers, in particular, forward a Karbala narrative that is epic in scope and infused with myriad supernatural features. For all three Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups, the commemoration of Karbala is an important focal point for piety and a central component of communal identity.

A. The Base Narrative The ﬁrst period of civil strife in the Muslim community began with the murder of ‘Uthman¯ in  and the election of ‘Al¯ı as the new caliph. ‘Al¯ı’s authority was immediately contested by a group of prominent early Companions led by T. alh. a b. ‘Ubayd Allah¯ (d. ), al-Zubayr b. al-‘Awwam¯ (d. ), and ‘A’isha¯ (one of the Prophet’s widows and the daughter of Abu¯ Bakr). The two sides met in  at the Battle of the Camel outside Basra (Iraq), with ‘Al¯ı winning a decisive victory. After consolidating control over Mecca and Medina, ‘Al¯ı settled in Kufa (in southern Iraq), moving

 Although not explicitly mentioned in this section, Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı and Twelver accounts routinely portray Abu¯ Bakr, ‘Umar, and the Companions who followed them as motivated by material ambitions that outweighed their commitment to Islam.  Bear in mind that the Sh¯ı‘a consider ‘Al¯ı the sole legitimate political and religious authority immediately following the Prophet’s death and believe that his rights were usurped by AbuBakr,¯ ‘Umar, and ‘Uthman.¯

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 13:36:50, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.009 Community  the capital of the nascent Muslim state out of the Arabian peninsula. ‘Al¯ı continued to face opposition from Syria in the figure of Mu‘awiya¯ b. Ab¯ı Sufyan,¯ the long-standing governor of the region and a cousin of ‘Uthman,¯ who refused to pledge allegiance until ‘Uthman’s¯ murderers were brought to justice. The two sides were locked in a stalemate until  when ‘Al¯ıwas assasinated, clearing the way for Mu‘awiya¯ to seize sole possession of the caliphate. Mu‘awiya’s¯ reign marked a clear transition from an elective model of leadership based on religious standing to one of hereditary rule. He was the first caliph of the Umayyad dynasty and ruled for nineteen years (– ) from Damascus with little organized opposition. Mu‘awiya¯ was unable, however, to secure the oath of allegiance for his son Yaz¯ıd, who was viewed by many Companions as unworthy of the office and morally deficient. When Mu‘awiya¯ died in , the Muslim world was plunged into a second prolonged period of civil strife. The fiercest opposition to Yaz¯ıd’s succession came from prominent figures in Medina who had their own claims to the caliphate. The most significant of these was ‘Abd Allah¯ b. al-Zubayr (d. ), who declared himself caliph in  and won the support of many (if not most) parts of the Muslim world. Over the next ten years, Marwan¯ b. al-H. akam (d. ) and his sons managed to rally the Umayyads and slowly reasserted military control over Egypt, Iran, Iraq, and (finally) Arabia. Ibn al-Zubayr was killed after an extended Umayyad siege of Mecca in . For the Sh¯ı‘a, the most significant episode in the second civil war involved the  killing of H. usayn b. ‘Al¯ı by an Umayyad army near Karbala (see Table .). The consensus narrative (preserved in both Sunn¯ıand Sh¯ı‘¯ı sources) attributes the tragedy to Mu‘awiya’s¯ attempts at securing Yaz¯ıd’s succession. H. usayn had inherited the leadership of the family of the Prophet after the death of his brother H. asan in  and adopted a quietist political stand during most of Mu‘awiya’s¯ reign. He was adamant, however, in his refusal to take the oath of allegiance to Yaz¯ıd. According to many sources, this was due to concerns about Yaz¯ıd’s moral character, as he was said to indulge in wine and music. After Mu‘awiya’s¯ death, H. usayn began receiving letters from Kufa asking him to lead a rebellion against the Umayyads. Recall that Kufa was the seat of ‘Al¯ı’s caliphate and home to his most enthusiastic supporters. H. usaynsenthiscousinMuslim b. ‘Aq¯ıl to investigate the political situation. Muslim initially deemed the conditions in Kufa encouraging for a potential revolt and reported as much to H. usayn. The situation took a turn for the worse, however, when Yaz¯ıd heard of Muslim’s intrigues and appointed ‘Ubayd Allah¯ b. Ziyad¯

Personalities (in alphabetical order) Brief Description/Background

‘Abbas¯ b. ‘Al¯ıb.Ab¯ıT. alib¯ (d. )H. usayn’s half-brother and standard-bearer. Killed in battle. ‘Abd Allah¯ b. H. usayn (d. ) An infant son of H. usayn. Died from an arrow (known as ‘Al¯ıal-As.ghar) wound on the day of the battle. ‘Al¯ıb.H. usayn (d.  or ) The eldest son of H. usayn. He was ill and did not (known as Zayn al-‘Abid¯ ¯ın) take part in ﬁghting. He survived and came to be considered the fourth Imam¯ by the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı/Twelver Sh¯ı‘a. ‘Al¯ıb.H. usayn (d. ) The second of H. usayn’s sons. Killed in battle at (known as ‘Al¯ı al-Akbar) age . H. usayn b. ‘Al¯ıb.Ab¯ıT. alib¯ (d. )Thesonof‘Al¯ı and Fat¯.ima. The primary protagonist in the narrative. Revered as an Imam¯ by every Sh¯ı‘¯ıgroup. Muslim b. ‘Aq¯ıl (d. )H. usayn’s cousin who was sent to Kufa to investigate the situation and to ascertain the level of support for an uprising. He was killed by Ibn Ziyad.¯ Shamir b. Dh¯ı al-Jawshan (d. ) One of the commanders of the Umayyad army (known as Shimr) and a conﬁdant of Ibn Ziyad.¯ Invariably depicted as the most vicious of H. usayn’s adversaries. ‘Ubayd Allah¯ b. Ziyad¯ (d. ) Yaz¯ıd’s governor over Basra and Kufa. (known as Ibn Ziyad)¯ The primary antagonist in the narrative. ‘Umar b. Sa‘d (d. ) In charge of the Umayyad army that fought (known as Ibn Sa‘d) H. usayn at Karbala. His forces consisted mostly of Kufans. Yaz¯ıd b. Mu‘awiya¯ (d. ) Umayyad caliph in Damascus. Seen as ultimately responsible for H. usayn’s death. Zaynab b. ‘Al¯ıb.Ab¯ıT. alib¯ (d. ?) H. usayn’s sister and the daughter of ‘Al¯ıand Fat¯.ima. Assumed de facto leadership of the survivors after ‘Ash¯ ur¯ a’.¯

(known as Ibn Ziyad)¯ (d. ) governor of the region. Ibn Ziyad¯ quelled Kufan opposition through a combination of threats and bribes, ultimately arresting and executing Muslim. H. usayn was unaware of these developments and set off for Kufa, accompanied by most of his family and a small group of supporters. The entire

party numbered in the low hundreds. The narrative of H. usayn’s journey is replete with foreboding about the unreliability of the Kufans and rumors that the Umayyads had solidified their control of the region. Even after H. usayn received confirmation of Muslim b. ‘Aq¯ıl’s death, he decided against returning to Medina and continued on the road to Iraq. H. usayn’s caravan was eventually intercepted by a squadron of cavalry and forced to make camp at Karbala, fifty miles to the northeast of Kufa. This occurred on the second day of Muh. arram, the first month of the Islamic calendar. The next few days witnessed a steady buildup of Umayyad forces under the command of ‘Umar b. Sa‘d (known as Ibn Sa‘d) (d. ) and a growing stalemate between the two sides. Ibn Ziyad¯ demanded that H. usayn and his men take the oath of allegiance to Yaz¯ıd; H. usayn categorically refused to do so. Some Sunn¯ı sources report that H. usayn proposed a number of alternatives but to no avail. On the seventh day of Muh. arram, Ibn Ziyad¯ ordered Ibn Sa‘d to deny H. usayn and his followers access to water. This accelerated the crisis and caused significant suffering in H. usayn’s camp, especially among the numerous young children. According to some accounts, negotiations broke down on the ninth of Muh. arram due to the intrigues of some Kufans (notably Shamir b. Dh¯ı al-Jawshan) who were intent on provoking hostilities. H. usayn asked for and was granted a final night of respite and prayer, which features prominently in many Sh¯ı‘¯ı accounts of Karbala. The tents were brought together in anticipation of the next day’s fighting, and permission was granted to anyone who chose to depart before battle. Zaynab, H. usayn’s sister, is a major figure in the (later) Sh¯ı‘¯ı accounts as she antici- pates the events of the next day and prepares for her brother’s impending death. There are conflicting reports about the sequence of events on the tenth ¯ of Muh. arram(knownas‘Ashur¯ a’).¯ There appear to have been a series of individual one-on-one encounters between the two sides throughout the morning. The real fighting began after the noontime prayer, as the Umayyad army slowly encircled the camp. The first skirmishes involved supporters not affiliated with the household of the Prophet, but, as the afternoon progressed, H. usayn’s relatives engaged the enemy. It is difficult to parse legend from fact in these accounts. Some of the (non-Sh¯ı‘¯ı) sources suggest that the entirety of the battle lasted only an hour, whereas other (Sh¯ı‘¯ı) sources depict a drawn-out affair consisting primarily of single combat. The deaths of important ‘Alids are mentioned in striking and vivid detail, notably those of H. usayn’s two sons ‘Al¯ı al-Akbar and ‘Al¯ı al-As.ghar and his half-brother al-‘Abbas¯ b. ‘Al¯ı. H. usayn was the last to

B. The Sh¯ı‘¯ı Narrative(s) Thebasenarrativedescribedintheprevioussectionincludesmanyof the details common to Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı historical sources. There is little dispute over the basic chronology that begins with Mu‘awiya’s¯ death and ends with Zaynab’s encounter with Yaz¯ıd in Damascus. Sunn¯ı accounts treat the death of H. usayn as part of a larger civil war in which multiple prominent Companions vied for political power. The fact that the struggle claimed the life of the Prophet’s grandson is certainly tragic, but it carries no larger signiﬁcance. In political terms, a number of Sunn¯ı scholars include H. usayn in lists of legitimate successors to the Prophet and identify his death as inaugurating dynastic rule in the Muslim world. By contrast, the tragedy at Karbala united the nascent Sh¯ı‘¯ı community and became a rallying cry for most (if not all) of the Sh¯ı‘¯ı rebellions that erupted over the next century, including, most famously, the ‘Abbasid¯ Revolution in .ManySh¯ı‘a lamented their failure to support H. usayn, who became a symbol of martyrdom and highlighted the illegitimacy of the Umayyad state. Sh¯ı‘¯ı remembrances of Karbala featured distinctive poetic forms and imagery, including extensive citations of conversations between key ﬁgures and elaborate vignettes intended to demonstrate a theological point or to elicit sympathy. Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups differed in their use of these structural and literary devices depending on their particular conceptions of the Imamate.¯

The Zayd¯ı Narrative The Zayd¯ı narrative of Karbala has remained fairly consistent over the centuries. The earliest surviving Zayd¯ı accounts are those of Abual-Faraj¯ al-Is.bahan¯ ¯ı(d.)andal-Nat¯.iq bi-l-H. aqq Yah. yab.H¯ . usayn (d. ). Both authors adhere to the chronology of the base narrative, from H. usayn’s decision to leave for Kufa to the eventual collapse of his support, before placing his rebellion in the broader continuum of Sh¯ı‘¯ı rebellions. According to al-Is.bahan¯ ¯ı, the brunt of the responsibility for the tragedy falls on the shoulders of two men: Ibn Ziyad¯ (the governor of Kufa) and Shamir b. Dh¯ı al-Jawshan (an important deputy in the army). The former intimidates and kills H. usayn’s supporters in Kufa and then staunchly rejects any compromise that might defuse the crisis. The latter incites Ibn Ziyad¯ against H. usayn and rallies the army at times when soldiers hesitate to take up arms against the Prophet’s family. Ibn Sa‘d, the commander of the army, garners some sympathy as he tries to broker an agreement between the two sides. Yaz¯ıd is implicated in H. usayn’s death, but his culpability is diminished by his distance from the battlefield. He does not directly order H. usayn’s execution and later expresses regret at the turn of events. At the same time, his attitude toward the survivors in Damascus is hardly sympathetic. They are ultimately released but only after a series of pointed exchanges between Yaz¯ıd on one side, and Zaynab and Zayn al-‘Abid¯ ¯ın on the other. The Zayd¯ı tenor of al-Is.bahan¯ ¯ı’s account is most evident in its focus on H. usayn’s extended household. Specifically, al-Is.bahan¯ ¯ı interrupts the chronology of his account to list the twenty members of H. usayn’s family who perished in the events leading up to and including the battle. Detailed genealogies are provided along with brief vignettes of their deaths. More elaborate descriptions are later presented for particularly important figures such as H. usayn’s sons and nephews. This familial focus reflects the central Zayd¯ı theological belief that ultimate religious and political authority rests with the Prophet’s family and descendants. Consequently, the death of any figure from this select group carries special significance. Al-Is.bahan¯ ¯ı’s account thus conveys a deeply tragic yet heroic ethos. Although he intimates that the outcome was predictable, there are no indications that H. usayn’s death was necessary or inevitable. The account lacks elaborate descriptive language and does not frame the tragedy as part of a cosmic or eschatological struggle between good and evil. The narrative preserved by al-Nat¯.iq is even more bereft of supernatural imagery than that of al-Is.bahan¯ ¯ı, but it shares an interest in lineage.

It begins with a short discussion of H. usayn’s parents followed by a physical description that likens him to the Prophet. The next two sections are devotedtoverifyingthatH. usayn had received the oath of allegiance from his followers and had actively launched an uprising against Yaz¯ıd. Al-Nat¯.iq highlights this point in a passage that reads as follows:

When the oath of allegiance of the people of Kufa reached him, he left from Mecca on the eighth day of Dhual-H¯ . ijja....He–prayersofGoduponhim– was killed on Friday the tenth of Muh. arram of the year . The duration of his uprising (z. uhur¯ ) and the establishment of his rule was one month and two days.

The affirmation of an actual uprising and H. usayn’s efforts at constructing a rivalpoliticalorderarenecessaryproofofhisstatusasanImam.¯ Al-Nat¯.iq’s account of the battle and H. usayn’s death is brief and dismissive, noting only that Ibn Ziyad¯ ordered Ibn Sa‘d to kill H. usayn. A number of figures are ascribed the death blow (including the aforementioned Shamir), and the narrative ends with a short description of the wounds on the Imam’s¯ body and its burial. H. usaynisthusplacedinacontinuumofZayd¯ıImams¯ who died in the pursuit of justice with the odds stacked severely against them. In line with al-Is.bahan¯ ¯ı’s emphasis on genealogy, nearly half of al-Nat¯.iq’s entry on H. usayn is devoted to his children. This section contains some emotional and graphic episodes (most notably an account of the killing of H. usayn’s infant son ‘Al¯ı al-As.ghar), but the general purpose here is to identify lines of descent. The Zayd¯ıs, after all, believe that these descendants are the primary conduits for religious authority and the sole repository for future Imams.¯ As opposed to the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı/Twelver conception of an inerrant religious authority appointed by God, the Zayd¯ıImam¯ is a pious scholar standing up to tyranny. He is not imbued with supernatural powers but rather functions as a symbol of justice in the face of an oppressive state. The Zayd¯ı portrait of H. usayn aligns with this conception of the Imam.¯ Both al-Is.bahan¯ ¯ıandal-Nat¯.iq highlight the importance of lineage, focusing on those members of the Prophet’s family who died at Karbala. These deaths are sometimes presented in lurid detail, but they do not carry a deeper, cosmological significance. H. usayn is a common man of uncommon virtues whose rebellion, although tragic, is the first in a series of similar ‘Alid uprisings. Some of these rebellions succeed, but the vast majority fail. The Zayd¯ıs certainly honor and remember H. usayn each year, but these

 Al-Nat¯.iq, Ifada¯ , .

The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı Narrative There is no single definitive Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı narrative of the events of Karbala. Recall that contemporary Isma‘¯ ¯ılism is divided between two main branches, the Musta‘l¯ıs (today mainly consisting of the T. ayyib¯ıs) and the Nizar¯ ¯ıs (who follow the Aga Khan as their Imam).¯ Both groups share the Twelver belief that the Imam¯ possesses a special authority delegated directly by God. This suggests that the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı narrative of H. usayn should align more closely with that of the Twelvers (see below) than that of the Zayd¯ıs (see above). The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı treatment of Karbala, however, is closely intertwined with the issue of ritual commemoration. The Bohras (a branch of the T. ayyib¯ıs) take part in Twelver ceremonies that reenact and mourn the deaths of H. usayn and his companions. Consequently, they affirm the more elaborate renditions of Karbala and often attend annual Twelver ‘Ash¯ ur¯ a’¯ services (discussed subsequently). By contrast, the Nizar¯ ¯ıs (a majority of the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs) hold to less emotive forms of remembrance. They gather in mosques to mourn or recount the tragedy in speeches, but these gestures are far less intricate than those of the Twelvers. Most significantly, the Nizar¯ ¯ıs do not partake in emotional commemorations of Karbala featuring poetry or dramatic reenactments; rather, they are partial to the base narrative stripped of any greater theological significance. Such a preference stems perhaps from the presence of a ruling Nizar¯ ¯ıImam¯ who bears the spiritual mantle of H. usayn. Although the death of the grandson of the Prophet was tragic, the Imamate¯ per- severed and passed (in the form of a divine light) to his descendants. It is the current ruling Imam¯ who commands the immediate and complete emotional allegiance of the Nizar¯ ¯ı community.

The Twelver Narrative The narrative of the tragedy of Karbala achieves its most detailed and reﬁned form with the Twelvers. In fact, it could be argued that the narrative of H. usayn’s death lies at the very heart of Twelver identity and worship. The following section traces the evolution of the Karbala narrative from its initial manifestations in the lifetimes of the Twelver Imams¯ to its use in complex annual rituals in the modern period.

 The best study of the evolution of ‘Ash¯ ur¯ a’¯ commemorations among the Twelvers is Kamran Aghaie’s The Martyrs of Karbala. Much of this section is indebted to Aghaie’s work.

If one of you performs the h. ajj [the greater pilgrimage] in the course of your lifetime and does not visit H. usayn b. ‘Al¯ı, then you have departed from one of the claims of God and the Messenger of God, because the claim of H. usayn is a mandatory duty from God, Exalted and Mighty, and obligatory upon every Muslim. A multitude of similar traditions quote the Imams¯ ordering the Sh¯ı‘a to visit Karbala to foster their love for the family of the Prophet. There is also evidence of organized annual processions to Karbala that served as important public affirmations of a communal Sh¯ı‘¯ı identity. Pilgrimage to the grave of H. usayn (and those of the other Imams)¯ remains one of the distinctive ritual features of Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. Given the financial difficulties posed by a lengthy trip to Karbala, many ¯ Twelver Sh¯ı‘a communities held Muh. arram processions on ‘Ashur¯ a’¯ within their own cities and towns. The most prominent of these took place in Baghdad beginning in the tenth century when the region was controlled by the Buyids,¯ a military family from Daylam with Sh¯ı‘¯ı inclinations. The procession was initiated by the same Buyid¯ ruler, Mu‘izz al-Dawla (mentioned earlier), who instituted the celebration of Ghad¯ır Khumm. Historical accounts of these processions document a number of distinctive practices, including (i) the closing of markets, (ii) the wearing of coarse

 Haider, Origins, .

The blood of the friends of the Prophet Muh. ammad is flowing; our tears rain plentifully. Let there be infinite curses and blame upon his enemies in the past and the future. Distress yourself about what befell the children. Now listen to the story of the martyrdom and how they deprived H. usayn of water; and when he was fighting on the plain of Karbala, how they behaved meanly and unjustly. They cut off the head of a descendant of the Prophet. These annual processions combined the poetic sensibilities of the earliest period with the physicality of a formal pilgrimage to Karbala. The Twelver Sh¯ı‘a were now free to commemorate ‘Ash¯ ur¯ a’¯ in their hometowns as a public expression of their love for the family of the Prophet. The base Karbala narrative described earlier, drawn from the earliest layers of the Muslim historical works, is sympathetic to H. usayn and informed by a general tragic ethos stemming from the death of so many members of the Prophet’s family. Beginning in the tenth century, Twelver scholars began appropriating and recasting this narrative in a manner that legitimized their doctrine of the Imamate.¯ The earliest example of such a transformation is attributed to al-Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd (mentioned above), whose narrative begins with an unambiguous affirmation of H. usayn’s designation (nas..s)as Imam:¯ The Messenger of God, may God bless him and his family, had made clear his [H. usayn’s] Imamate¯ and the Imamate¯ of his brother [H. asan] before him through designation (nas..s) when he said, “These two sons of mine are Imams¯ who will experience difficulties.” This statement is followed by other proofs of H. usayn’s credentials, such as the testamentary bequest (was.iyya) of the office from his brother H. asan. The account then explains the reasons for which neither H. asan nor H. usayn rose up in rebellion against Mu‘awiya.¯ In the case of H. asan, a lack of support meant that an uprising would not be successful, so the only prudent course of action was to practice precautionary dissimulation (taqiyya)andto conclude a truce with Mu‘awiya.¯ When H. usayn became Imam,¯ he faced the same basic situation. Al-Muf¯ıd writes:

The Imamate¯ of H. usayn, peace be upon him, was conﬁrmed after the death of his brother H. asan, peace be upon him. The obedience of all creatures to him was binding, although he did not summon them because of precautionary

 Aghaie, Martyrs, .  Al-Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd, Irshad¯ , .

This passage both affirms H. usayn’s right to the Imamate¯ and explains his political quietism prior to Karbala within the framework of Twelver theology. Al-Muf¯ıd’s account includes all of the chronological elements found in the base narrative, from the initial letters of the Kufans to the seige of H. usayn’s camp in Karbala and the denial of water. His narration, however, also quotes a significant amount of elaborate dialogue. Although these conversations are found in the base narrative (and in a number of Sunn¯ı sources), al-Muf¯ıd uses them to reiterate important theological points. Take H. usayn’s speech to his companions the night before the battle: I glorify God with the most perfect glorification and I praise Him in happiness and misfortune. O God, I praise You for blessing us with prophethood, teaching us the Qur’an,¯ and making us understand religion. You have given us hearing, sight, and hearts and have made us among those who give thanks. I know of no followers more loyal and more virtuous than my followers, nor of any House more pious and more close-knit than my House. May God reward you well on my behalf. Indeed, I do not think that there will be [any further] days [left] to us by these men. I permit you to leave me. All [of you], go away with the absolution of your oath, for there will be no obligation on you from me. This is a night that will give cover to you. Use it as a camel [i.e., ride away in it].

Some Sunn¯ı accounts include this speech, but its centrality to the Twelver narrative is unique. There is a clear emphasis on the loyalty bonds (walaya¯ – see Chapter ) between H. usayn and his followers, which provide a model for the subsequent Twelver community. H. usayn’s supporters respond by passionately reiterating their commitment to H. usayn and refusing to abandon him on the battleﬁeld. In addition, the status of the family of the Prophet (ahl al-bayt) is elevated through both its connection to the Prophet and its possession of a special religious knowledge. This aligns with the Twelver belief in the Imamate¯ as a continuation of the ofﬁce of prophethood in the postrevelation world and the Imam¯ as an inerrant interpreter of religious sources. H. usayn even expands the scope of the Imam’s¯ theoretical knowledge beyond mere interpretation. When confronted by a tribesman on the road to Kufa who warns of impending danger, he states:

 Al-Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd, Irshad¯ , .  Al-Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd, Irshad¯ , .

In other words, H. usayn is aware of the broader context of the situation through divine knowledge but remains determined to carry out his mission. Moreover, he even predicts the ultimate downfall of his opponents, alluding to the overthrow (and near-extermination) of the Umayyad dynasty seventy years later. On a purely literary level, al-Muf¯ıd’s narrative is full of melodramatic exchanges. In one passage, H. usayn approaches his dying son ‘Al¯ı al-Akbar:

H. usayn, peace be upon him, went out until he stood over him [‘Al¯ı al-Akbar] and said, “May God kill [the] people who killed you, my son. How foolhardy they are against the Merciful and in violating the family of the Messenger, may God bless him and his family.” His [H. usayn’s] eyes filled with tears, and he said, “There will be [only] dust on the world after you.” Zaynab, the sister of H. usayn, peace be upon him, came hurrying out, crying, “My brother, my nephew!” She came up and threw herself on [her dead nephew]. H. usayn raised her head and then led her back to the tent. He told his young [sons]: “Carry your brother back.” This level of detail is designed to elicit a powerful emotional response. The production of such a narrative that emphasizes the position of the Imam¯ and his family as well as the loyalty of his true followers was a new development. It was perhaps a counterpart to the growth of processions and poetic remembrances among the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a in the tenth and eleventh centuries. The next important development in the narrative of H. usayn occurred in the sixteenth century with the rise of the Safavid dynasty in Iran. As discussed in Chapter , the Safavids were responsible for the wholesale conversion of Iran to Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism and (sometimes) predicated their legitimacy on their role as representatives of the hidden Imam.¯ As patrons of Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism, the Safavids provided state sponsorship for ‘Ash¯ ur¯ a’¯ commemorations. Specifically, they encouraged (and financed) the rawzat˙ khan¯ ¯ı (subsequently abbreviated as rawzeh˙ ) which was a “ritual sermon

 Al-Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd, Irshad¯ , .  The sources allow for a second possibility – namely, that the Imam¯ was informed of these events directly by the Prophet.  Al-Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd, Irshad¯ , .

Passages from the Post-Safavid Karbala Narrative Excerpt  When he read this [a letter from Kufa], Husayn wept again, but there was no more doubt in his heart; he could now go and take power from the tyrant without fear of accusations that he acted for his own glory. He set out from Mecca with only seventy-seven[sic] followers, across the desert in the direction of Kufa. On the way they were suddenly confronted by a large army of animals of prey, with sharp claws and mighty jaws, under the command of a huge lion, king of the beasts. The lion bowed his big head down to the ground before the feet of Daldal, Husayn’s horse, begging to be allowed to help him in his battle against the oppressor of the faithful, and to restore the rule of God’s laws among the sons of Adam. Husayn thanked him, but sent him away, saying: “Nothing happens on earth that He does not will. If it is His will that I shall win, God will strike down His enemies before my face.” They rode on, until suddenly the sky became dark. Many hundred of birds of prey hovered over the modest army, headed by a large eagle who likewise offered to tear Husayn’s enemies to shreds for him, but again Husayn, knowing that God was only testing him, declined, saying: “Thank you, my winged friends, go back to your mountains, God has already decided who will live and who will die, nor can we alter His decision.” The final vision of temptation in the desert was an army of jinn, whose king, a monstrously big ogre with long teeth like sabers, threw himself at Husayn’s feet, saying: “Not since king Solomon has any man subdued us, but you Prince Husayn, may command, and we will obey. Please order us to destroy your enemies and none will survive.” Even though Husayn knew that he might not live to see the day after the battle, he sent the jinn away, thanking them courteously for their offer to help him. They disappeared at once. Excerpt  Then Husayn saw how his youngest son, Ali Asghar, suffered from thirst, because his mother’s milk had dried up in her bosom. The women sat there in their hastily erected tent, praying and praising God. When Husayn saw the patience of the women, [start of poetic stanzas] He took the child which had not yet been weaned, / And carried it to where the river flowed, / Calling the enemies who lay in ambush / “Do not shoot now! This child is sick with thirst! / Have pity on this babe who cannot speak / And soon will be an orphan, when I die . . . ” / Before he finished speaking, all the Arabs / Had shot their arrows at the little child. / One arrow pierced his ear.

 Aghaie, Martyrs, .  Rippen and Knappert, Textual Sources, .  Rippen and Knappert, Textual Sources, .

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 13:36:50, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.009 Community  He screamed with pain /until the shadows sank over his eyes. / The women wept and all the men wept with them. / Husayn interred the little child near-by, / Praying the prayers that suit a proper service. Excerpt  When Husayn rode out, the army of the Syrians ran away, but he pursued them, for he knew this was his last day. He mowed down his enemies like a fire raging through the tall grass of the savannah. The earth grew bloodied and the sky grew dark as if the Day of Judgement had begun. Dark clouds veiled the sun even in Mecca so that its people wondered what caused this gloom which covered Arabia, Syria, and Egypt, reaching as far as Iran and Khurasan. The angels prayed to God with the women that He might rescue Husayn. [Start of poetic stanzas] But God’s intentions are unknown to man / Not even angels understand his plan. / . . . / He [Husayn] turned his horse and hurried back to camp. / There in the shrubs the enemy were waiting. /They shot at him without their faces showing / Hundreds of arrows flew into his face / Seventy arrows hit his tender body / and pierced his skin and spilled his precious blood. / He knew that he did not have long to live, / Just enough time to say: There is no god / but God and Muhammad is His prophet. / His soul flew up into the cloudless sky / Where it was met by those who loved him most: / His parents and his brother and his sons. / His body meanwhile fell from the strong horse. / . . . / Here ends the sad account of Prince Husayn / Who lived and died a witness for the faith / A ransom for his people, for Mankind. In addition to the inclusion of fantastical elements, the rawzeh˙ promoted a fatalism that made the impending disaster a sacrificial act ordained by God. It presented a highly polarized vision of the conflict, with figures clearly designated as good or evil. The reasons for these changes are explored in Chapter . At this point, it suffices to note that the Safavids were invested in creating a strong and insular Twelver identity to distinguish themselves from their main rivals, the Sunn¯ı Ottomans. The rise of the Qajar dynasty in the eighteenth century saw a continuation of this trend as commemorations became even more elaborate. The state began sponsoring full-scale reenactments of Karbala based on a script taken from the rawzeh˙ . These passion plays, referred to as shabih khan¯ ¯ı or (more popularly) ta‘ziyat khan¯ ¯ı (subsequently abbreviated as ta‘ziyeh), persist into the modern period in parts of southern Iraq and Iran. The emergence of rawzeh˙ narratives and ta‘ziyeh reenactments involved a radical restructuring of the historical account of Karbala. The chronology of the base narrative remained consistent, but it was now primarily geared to elicit an emotional response. This shift is evident in any modern rendition of the events at Karbala (see excerpts  and ). Poetry is inserted at key

 Rippen and Knappert, Textual Sources, .

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 13:36:50, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.009  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam moments, transforming the narrative into a performative devotional piece that evokes sadness and weeping. The crowd participates in a collective act of ritual mourning that reinforces its loyalty to the Imam¯ and, by extension, the state. The retelling of the Karbala narrative remains a universal element in contemporary Twelver commemorations of ‘Ash¯ ur¯ a’.¯ Speakers will often break into a poetic rhythm to signal a particularly tragic moment or to emphasize a dramatic point. They also divide the story into discrete narrative units and relate a different incident or death on each of the first nine days of the month, culminating on the tenth with the killing of H. usayn. The narrative is usually followed (or preceded) by the beating of chests (in Arabic lat.m, in Persian or Urdu matam¯ ). In many places, this beating is a symbolic gesture performed with the hand or a minor implement to represent intense mourning. Although this bloodless practice is encouraged by most Twelver scholars, the use of knives or blades for the purposes of ritual self-mutilation is common in parts of Iraq, Pakistan, and India. Chest beating is also often accompanied by either attestations of loyalty to the Imam¯ or mournful laments (in Urdu noha) recited to the rhythm of hands striking bodies. The structure of ‘Ash¯ ur¯ a’¯ mourning rituals varies from region to region under the influence of local cultural expectations. In Iraq, for example, millions of pilgrims walk to Karbala (sometimes over weeks or months) every Muh. arram as a sign of their devotion to and grief for H. usayn. In recent years, Iraq has witnessed the revival of the ta‘ziyeh reenactments and an upsurge in more extreme forms of self-flagellation. Mourning in the other Gulf states centers primarily on the retelling of the narrative, followed by symbolic chest beating to the accompaniment of laments. Iran is home to multiple forms of remembrance, with the ta‘ziyeh still prominent in many locations. In India and Pakistan, gatherings for Muh. arramareknownas majalis¯ (sing. majlis) and begin with an elegy (in Arabic marthiyya,inUrdu marsiyya) followed by a sermon that includes a rendition of some part of the Karbala narrative. The majlis concludes with a ritual beating of chests to the recitation of laments. South Asian, Southeast Asian, and Turkish Sh¯ı‘¯ı communities also often integrate local rituals (of non-Islamic origins) into their ‘Ash¯ ur¯ a’¯ commemorations.

C. Summary The narrative of Karbala serves as one of the building blocks of Sh¯ı‘¯ı identity. ThedeathsofH. usayn and his companions symbolize the abandonment and betrayal of the Prophet’s family by the larger Muslim community.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 13:36:50, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.009 Community  They also represent an inspirational example of defiance in the face of oppression or injustice. The structure and form of the narrative, however, vary significantly among different Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups as a consequence of their distinctive theological doctrines. For the Zayd¯ıSh¯ı‘a, the events at Karbala are archetypical. H. usayn is qualified to be Imam¯ based on his lineage and his scholarly credentials. He then rises up in rebellion against the oppressive Umayyads. His defeat and death are tragedies, but they also represent the culmination of the proper course of action for any candidate aspiring to the Imamate.¯ The Zayd¯ıs include H. usayn in a line of Imams¯ who represent this ideal. His rebellion is part of a continuum of similar rebellions, distinguished only by his direct association with the Prophet (his grandfather) and ‘Al¯ı(his father). The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıSh¯ı‘a are divided on their interpretation and use of the Karbala narrative. The episode is accorded importance by the two most important branches of the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs – namely, the Musta‘l¯ıs and the Nizar¯ ¯ıs. The Musta‘l¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs (primarily the T. ayyib¯ıs) take part in the ritual commemorations of the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a as full participants. They have also developed a large corpus of elegies that link H. usayn to the leadership of the community and emphasize the cosmological implications of his death. The Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs, by contrast, eschew the more public mourning rituals, given the presence of a living and visible Imam¯ who wields the religious authority of H. usayn. The Twelver Sh¯ı‘a present a particularly elaborate and emotional version of the Karbala narrative. Their commemorations are tied to public rituals that originated in the eighth century. The story of H. usayn is not just a historical narrative but rather a reenactment of the struggle between good and evil that dominates the Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı ritual calendar. The modern form of Twelver mourning is indebted to the Safavid transformation of Karbala into an elaborate public spectacle that combines early poetic laments with local cultural practices.

suggested readings for further study The following works provide an overview of political developments during the seventh and eighth centuries: Martin Hinds, Studies in Early Islamic History, ed. Jere Bacharach, Lawrence Conrad, and Patricia Crone (Princeton, NJ: Darwin, ). Marshall Hodgson, The Venture of Islam (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ), vol. , particularly – (“The Early Muslim State”) and – (“The Islamic Opposition”).

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 13:36:50, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.009  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam The following works discuss revisionist interpretations of early Islamic history: Fred Donner, “Modern Approaches to Early Islamic History,” in The New Cam- bridge History of Islam, ed. Michael Cook et al. (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni- versity Press, ), :–. Chase Robinson, Islamic Historiography (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). The earliest extant biography of the Prophet is Alfred Guillaume’s translation of the S¯ıra of Ibn Ish. aq¯ (d. ) entitled The Life of Muhammad (London: Oxford University Press, ). The following works examine the succession crisis after Muh. ammad’s death: Maria Dakake, The Charismatic Community (Albany: State University of New York Press, ), –. Encyclopaedia of Islam, rd ed., s.v. “‘Al¯ıb.Ab¯ıT. alib”¯ (Gleave). Encyclopaedia of Islam, nd ed., s.v. “Mubahala”¯ (Schmucker). Encyclopaedia of Islam, nd ed., s.v. “Sak¯ıfa” (Lecomte). Wilferd Madelung, The Succession to Muhammad (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni- versity Press, ). Al-Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd, Kitab¯ al-Irshad¯ ,translatedbyI.K.A.Howard(NewYork: Tahrike Tarsile Qur’an, ), –. Ja‘far Sobhani, Doctrines of Shi‘i Islam, translated by Reza Shah-Kazemi (New York:I.B.Tauris,), –. The following works recount the events at Karbala: Kamran Aghaie, The Martyrs of Karbala (Seattle: University of Washington Press, ). This book focuses on Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. Encyclopaedia of Islam, nd ed., s.v. “(al-)H. usayn b. Al¯ıb.Ab¯ıT. alib”¯ (Veccia Vaglieri). This article presents a clear Sunn¯ı perspective. Abu¯ Mikhnaf, Kitab¯ Maqtal H. usayn, translated by Hamid Mavani (London: Shia Ithnasheri Community of Middlesex, ). Al-Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd, Kitab¯ al-Irshad¯ ,translatedbyI.K.A.Howard(NewYork: Tahrike Tarsile Qur’an, ), –.ThisisaTwelverSh¯ı‘¯ıwork. The Zayd¯ı sources on Karbala are available only in Arabic: Abu¯ al-Faraj al-Is.bahan¯ ¯ı, Maqatil¯ al-T. alibiyy¯ ¯ın, ed. Sayyid Ah. mad S.aqr (Beirut: Mu’assasat al-‘Alam¯ ¯ı, ), –. Al-Nat¯.iq bi-l-H. aqq, al-Ifada¯ ,ed.Muh. ammad Yah. yaS¯ .alih¯ . Izzan¯ (Sana‘a: Dar¯ al-H. ikma al-Yamaniyya,¯ ), –. The following works provide examples of passion plays and poetic expressions surrounding Karbala: Mir Baba Ali Anis, “The End of the Battle of Karbala,” in Anthology of Urdu Verse in English, translated by David Matthews (New York: Oxford University Press, ), –.

In Chapter , we examined two narratives that hold a special place in the historical memory of the larger Sh¯ı‘¯ı community, the rejection of ‘Al¯ı’s authority after the Prophet’s death in  and the killing of H. usayn at Kar- bala in . Both events generated ritual commemorations in Sh¯ı‘¯ıcom- munities, most notably the celebration of ‘¯Id al-Ghad¯ır and the mourning of ‘Ash¯ ur¯ a’.¯ However, Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups differ regarding the implications of these events. The Zayd¯ıs participate in the festivities surrounding ‘Al¯ı’s reported appointment at Ghad¯ır Khumm despite not requiring the explicit designation of an Imam.¯ They also lament H. usayn’s death without ascribing to it any broad cosmic significance. The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and the Twelvers affirm ‘Al¯ı’s formal designation as the Prophet’s rightful successor through their celebrations of ‘¯Id al-Ghad¯ır. As for ‘Ash¯ ur¯ a’,¯ the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs (Nizar¯ ¯ıs) grieve for H. usayn, but their mourning is mitigated by the presence of a ruling Imam.¯ This differs from the Twelvers, for whom the remembrance of ‘Ash¯ ur¯ a’¯ is a central pillar of ritual practice and an embodiment of piety. In contrast to historical episodes that unite the Sh¯ı‘a community, a number of events provide the basis for its fragmentation. In terms of chronology, the first involves the failed revolt of Zayd b. ‘Al¯ıb.H. usayn b. ‘Al¯ıb.Ab¯ıT. alib¯ against the Umayyads in . This uprising is routinely interpreted as marking the split between the Zayd¯ıs (on one side) and the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs/Twelvers (on the other side). The second centers on the controversial succession to Ja‘far al-S.adiq¯ (the sixth Imam¯ and great- grandson of H. usayn) in . Although this dispute precipitated a break between the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and the Twelvers, variant accounts of the episode suggest a common Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı/Twelver conception of the scope and powers of the Imam.¯ Finally, the disappearance of Muh. ammad al-Mahd¯ı(the twelfth Imam)¯ in  compelled the Twelvers to reimagine the Imamate¯ as they struggled to explain the apparent succession of a newborn who was inaccessible to the larger community. In the process, Twelver scholars 

i. the revolt of zayd b. ‘al¯ı

A. Background Narrative The social tensions that contributed to the first (involving ‘Al¯ıand Mu‘awiya)¯ and second (including H. usayn’s killing) civil wars remained potent in the mid-eighth century. The Umayyad dynasty was seen as a restoration of the power of tribal elites at the cost of early converts. The policies of the Umayyad caliphs fueled this perception, as tribal leaders were favored with money and appointed to positions of authority. Conversion was also discouraged: it cut into state revenues because of discrepancies in the tax rate between Muslims and non-Muslims. It was simply more profitable to rule over a large non-Muslim population than over one composed primarily of Muslims. These factors cultivated a “pious opposition” devoted to the universalist implications of Islam. Marshall Hodgson refers to this late seventh- and early eighth-century tendency as “the movement of the piety-minded” and argues for its decisive importance in the creation of a cosmopolitan Muslim religious identity. The agenda of the piety-minded involved the construction of an egal- itarian social order predicated on Islamic values. The movement was also united in its opposition to the Umayyad dynasty. Beyond this, however, there were clear divisions. The pious opposition initially fragmented during the first civil war when a contingent criticized ‘Al¯ı’s actions during and after the Battle of S.iff¯ın (). The dissenters became known as the Kharijites (“those who rebelled”), a sect whose successors survive today in areas of North Africa and Oman. The remainder of the movement continued to support ‘Al¯ı and his descendants as the primary alternatives to Umayyad rule. It is important to note that not all of the piety-minded who favored ‘Alid political claims were Sh¯ı‘a. As mentioned in Chapters  and ,the Sh¯ı‘a were distinguished by their affirmation of a bond of personal charismatic loyalty to ‘Al¯ı(walaya¯ ) that was eventually transferred to his family (narrowly defined as the descendants of ‘Al¯ıandFat¯.ima). By contrast, many of the piety-minded backed the political claims of ‘Alids without according them any special religious authority.

 The following narrative that centers on “the pious opposition” is indebted to Hodgson, Venture, vol. –.

The massacre of H. usayn and his family had significant fallout in the broader Muslim community. In , five years after the events at Karbala, a revolt broke out in Kufa led by al-Mukhtar¯ b. Ab¯ı ‘Ubayd Allah¯ al-Thaqaf¯ı (d. ), who affirmed the Imamate¯ of Muh. ammad b. al-H. anafiyya (a son of ‘Al¯ı but not from his marriage to Fat¯.ima) and demanded revenge for H. usayn’s killing. His supporters, who included a significant number of the piety-minded (particularly those of Iranian origin) and a contingent of the Sh¯ı‘a, came to be known as the Kaysan¯ ¯ıs. The uprising was crushed within a year, but it heralded more than a century of similar rebellions that (predominantly) championed ‘Alid political causes through a broad coalition of Sh¯ı‘¯ı and non-Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups. In such an environment, the authorities came to view all ‘Alids as potential rivals. In late  or early ,Zaydb.‘Al¯ı, a grandson of H. usayn, was summoned to the court of the Umayyad caliph Hisham¯ b. ‘Abd al-Malik (r. –) in Damascus to answer charges of sedition. He testified to his own innocence and was ultimately sent to Kufa to confront his accuser. After his release from custody, Zayd lingered in the area for a few months. This worried Hisham,¯ who saw the potential danger of Zayd’s presence in a city that remained a hotbed of opposition to Umayyad rule. The caliph urged his governor in Iraq, Yusuf¯ b. ‘Umar al-Thaqaf¯ı(d.), to pressure Zayd to return to Medina. When Zayd finally left for the H. ijaz,¯ he was bombarded by letters and a number of Kufan envoys urged him to return and lead an uprising. The letters included explicit pledges of armed support and confessions of guilt and remorse for the city’s past failure to aid H. asan and H. usayn. Zayd was convinced to return (over the skepticism of his closest advisors) and spent the next year organizing his Kufan followers and soliciting the oath of allegiance from other cities and regions. Much of his backing came from the nascent Sh¯ı‘a community, but he was also supported by piety-minded scholars, including many later associated with Sunn¯ı Islam (e.g., the famous jurist AbuH¯ . an¯ıfa). The actual substance of Zayd’s beliefs is discussed in greater detail later in the chapter. According to most reports, Umayyad pressure forced Zayd to rebel in  before he was able to muster his full strength. On the brink of the uprising, Yusuf¯ b. ‘Umar al-Thaqaf¯ı gathered Zayd’s supporters in the central mosque of Kufa and threatened to kill anyone who left the premises. These intimidation tactics provided a justification for many to abandon their oaths and undercut much of Zayd’s strength. He was also hurt by the withdrawal of Sh¯ı‘¯ı followers who either (i) criticized his refusal to condemn Abu¯ Bakr and ‘Umar or (ii) preferred the Sh¯ı‘¯ı credentials of

Ja‘far al-S.adiq.¯ Zayd was left with between two hundred and three hundred supporters, who fought a daylong battle against a superior Umayyad army. After his death, Zayd’s body was exposed to the public, and his head was sent to the caliph in Damascus.

B. Implications Zayd’s rebellion marks the historical starting point of a distinct Zayd¯ı Sh¯ı‘ism. The episode is notably absent from Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı and Twelver historical sources. The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı/Twelver belief in formal designation (nas..s)asthe primary criterion for identifying the Imam¯ significantly reduces Zayd’s stature as a religious figure. For the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and the Twelvers, the Imamate¯ passed from ‘Al¯ıtoH. asan and then H. usayn (his sons with Fat¯.ima). These two sons held a special rank based on their relationship to the Prophet and their status as “people of the cloak” (see Chapter ). After H. usayn, the Imamate¯ was restricted to his descendants in a singular chain from father to son. In Zayd’s lifetime, the Sh¯ı‘a who would eventually be known as the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and the Twelvers favored the claims of his half-brother Muh. ammad al-Baqir,¯ followed by Zayd’s nephew (and al-Baqir’s¯ son) Ja‘far al-S.adiq.¯ They viewed Zayd’s uprising as little more than a tragic attempt by an ‘Alid upstart to seize political power. The Zayd¯ı narrative of Zayd’s rebellion is informed by a number of key theological beliefs. The most important of these involve his credentials as a legitimate Imam.¯ In contrast to the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and the Twelvers, the Zayd¯ıs hold that the Imam¯ achieves his position only by virtue of organizing an armed rebellion against an oppressive state. Biographies of Zayd often begin with a discussion of lineage to verify his descent from ‘Al¯ıand Fat¯.ima. This is followed by a physical description that affirms his physical integrity (a necessary condition of leadership). At this point, we sometimes find anecdotes about the Imam’s¯ childhood and upbringing. More often, however, the discussion shifts to his solicitation of the oath of allegiance because the ability to win supporters provides evidence of political skills. In fact, the Zayd¯ıs hold that a contender may not lead an uprising until he has garnered a minimum threshold of support. The narrative then recounts Zayd’s public declaration of rebellion (khuruj¯ ), which serves as

 The discussion that follows draws primarily on al-Nat¯.iq’s Ifada¯ and, to a lesser extent, on al-Is.bahan¯ ¯ı’s Maqatil¯ .  There are disagreements as to the minimum number of supporters necessary for an Imam¯ to declare a rebellion.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 13:50:22, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.010  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam his formal claim to the Imamate.¯ When describing unsuccessful rebellions, Zayd¯ı biographical works also analyze the reasons for their failure. In the case of Zayd, he was betrayed by the cowardly indecisiveness of supporters who refused to honor their oaths. On the whole, Zayd¯ı biographers fit the lives of their Imams¯ into a narrative structure that provides a virtual checklist of lineal and political qualifications. The political qualifications of the Imam¯ are minimized in Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıand Twelver depictions of their Imams.¯ The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs stress both the political and the religious authority of the Imam¯ but express a clear preference for the latter. The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıImam¯ is the gateway to the inner meaning of religious texts and rituals. He certainly plays a political role, but the actual seizure of power is often delegated to agents who act on his behalf. The Imam¯ is not required to directly organize an uprising or participate in battle. For the Twelvers, the Imam¯ is even further removed from the political realm. He primarily serves as a channel for proper religious interpretation, and his political role is a function of circumstance. When the conditions for seizing power are not ideal, he practices dissimulation. The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and the Twelvers locate legitimate political authority in their Imams,¯ but unlike the Zayd¯ıs, they consider it an innate quality independent of the actual exercise of power. In addition to offering a prototype for an Imam,¯ biographies of Zayd provide insight into other facets of Zayd¯ı theology. Many accounts discuss his education at the hands of the early Mu‘tazil¯ı scholar Was¯.il b. ‘At.a’¯ (d. ). This reflects the Zayd¯ı belief that an Imam’s¯ knowledge is acquired through study as opposed to being directly endowed by God (the view of the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and some Twelvers). The Imam¯ is permitted to seek knowledge from non-Sh¯ı‘¯ı and non-‘Alid sources, including those who might reject his political claims. Was¯.il b. ‘At.a’,¯ for example, allowed for the possibility that ‘Al¯ı had made a mistake when he took up arms against his opponents in the first civil war. This very point became incendiary in Zayd’s relations with al-Baqir¯ (his half-brother), who accused him of studying with a figure overly critical of ‘Al¯ı’s conduct. Although Zayd’s connection with Was¯.il b. ‘At.a’¯ is almost certainly fic- titious, it is often cited to explain the almost wholesale integration of Mu‘tazil¯ı ideas into Zayd¯ı theological discourse. Heresiographical works

 Madelung, “Zaydiyya.”  These works are primarily interested in the theological beliefs of different sects within Islam. They are suspect as historical sources. Although heresiographers often made use of earlier sources, they shaped this material to ﬁt their own theological agendas.

ascribe two of Zayd’s important theological positions to Was¯.il’s inﬂuence. The ﬁrst involves the acceptance of the Imamate¯ of the less worthy, according to which it was possible for a lesser candidate to be Imam¯ despite the presence of a superior candidate. After the death of the Prophet, ‘Al¯ıwas clearly the best candidate for leadership, but the community chose Abu¯ Bakr. This may have been a mistake, but it did not invalidate Abu¯ Bakr’s caliphate. The second position concerns the status of those who rejected or ignored ‘Al¯ı’s claims. Zayd did not consider this opposition an act of apostasy but rather a misreading of the strong (but implicit) evidence favoring ‘Al¯ı. In some heresiographical works, Zayd summarizes his views as follows:

‘Al¯ıb.Ab¯ıT. alib¯ – God be pleased with him – was the best of the Companions but the caliphate was delegated to Abu¯ Bakr for the soundness of his judgment and the religious basis of his stewardship in quelling the fire of civil strife and easing the hearts of the general masses. The era of wars which raged in the days of prophethood was recent. The blood of the Qurash¯ı polytheists and others on the sword of the Commander of the Faithful ‘Al¯ı had not yet dried, and the rancor in their chests for revenge remained. Hearts would not incline towards him and necks would not submit to him. It was in the public interest (mas.lah. a) that the leader in this situation should be someone known for being gentle, malleable, old, an early convert, and close to the Messenger of God, prayers of God and peace upon him. Consider the fact that when he [Abu¯ Bakr] was stricken with the sickness from which he would die and appointed ‘Umar b. al-Khat.t.ab,¯ the people cried, “You have appointed a coarse harshness over us!” They were not pleased with the Commander of the Faithful ‘Umar b. al-Khat.t.ab¯ for his strictness, his rigidity, his religious harshness, and his coarse stubbornness against enemies until Abu¯ Bakr silenced them by saying, “If my Lord asks me, I will say, ‘I appointed over them one better than me.’” Therefore it is permitted for the less worthy (mafd. ul¯ )tobeImam¯ and have recourse to  themoreworthy(afd. al) in the implementation of legal judgments (ah. kam¯ ). Zayd’s refusal to condemn the first two caliphs reflected the early Zayd¯ı stance on the succession to the Prophet. At the same time, it alienated those of his Sh¯ı‘¯ı supporters who were partial to Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı/Twelver views. The Zayd¯ıs consistently emphasized the political duties of the Imam¯ (engrained in narratives about Zayd’s life) throughout their history. To the extent that there were disagreements, these generally concerned the definition of an uprising or the degree of success necessary to earn an ‘Alid the title of Imam.¯ Zayd¯ı theological beliefs, on the other hand, shifted dramatically in the course of the eighth, ninth, and tenth centuries. Reli- gious knowledge was increasingly restricted to ‘Alids, the Imamate¯ of the

 Translation taken from Haider, Origins, –.

ii. the disputed succession to ja‘far al-s. adiq¯

A. Background Narrative The ‘Abbasids¯ toppled the Umayyad dynasty in  on the strength of military support from northeast Iran and a propaganda apparatus infused with Sh¯ı‘¯ı slogans and symbols. Most modern studies of the revolution emphasize the ‘Abbasids’¯ reliance on a Kaysan¯ ¯ıSh¯ı‘¯ı network that was originally loyal to the descendants of Muh. ammad b. al-H. anafiyya (discussed earlier). The early ‘Abbasids¯ (descendants of the Prophet’s uncle ‘Abbas)¯ claimed that the Imamate¯ had passed to them from AbuH¯ ashim¯ (the son of Muh. ammad b. al-H. anafiyya), who had died with no male heirs. The primary slogan of the revolution was an ambiguous call to empower the best-suited member of the family of the Prophet (al-rid. a¯ min ahl al-bayt), which many interpreted as referring to an ‘Alid rather than an ‘Abbasid.¯ The disappointment that followed the ‘Abbasid¯ victory left the pious opposition with two options. First, they could compromise and accept the political authority of the ‘Abbasids¯ while restricting the scope of their religious authority. This was the strategy employed by many of the piety-minded whocametobeassociatedwithSunn¯ı Islam. Alternatively, they could continue to struggle for an ‘Alid Imamate.¯ This was the stance of those who came to be known as the Sh¯ı‘a. Over the next few centuries, the ‘Abbasids¯ steadily moved from a Sh¯ı‘¯ıtoaSunn¯ı position. In the aftermath of the revolution, the ‘Alids became symbols of opposition to ‘Abbasid¯ rule and were understandably viewed as threats by the ruling dynasty. The rebellion of Muh. ammad al-Nafs al-Zakiyya (d. ) and his brother Ibrah¯ ¯ım (d. ), backed by a significant number of Zayd¯ıs, confirmed ‘Abbasid¯ suspicions and led to the close surveillance of prominent ‘Alids. The resulting political environment proved constrictive for Ja‘far al-S.adiq,¯ the preferred candidate and Imam¯ of the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs/Twelvers.

 The following narrative of the ‘Abbasid¯ Revolution and its impact on the “pious opposition” is indebted to Hodgson, Venture,vol.–.

The ‘Abbasids¯ curtailed al-S.adiq’s¯ ability to speak in public and contributed perhaps to his quietist political inclinations. In such an atmosphere, he refrained from an unambiguous public designation of a successor, which many feared would unduly antagonize the ‘Abbasids.¯ Al-S.adiq¯ was held in high regard by both Sh¯ı‘¯ı and non-Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars, many of whom traveled to Medina to study under his tutelage. Along with his father (al-Baqir),¯ al-S.adiq¯ is credited with laying the foundation for a distinct Sh¯ı‘¯ı system of law and establishing the basic parameters of Sh¯ı‘¯ı belief. This period also saw the proliferation of extremist theological doctrines, with some Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups going as far as to proclaim the divinity of the Imams.¯ There emerged a belief in the Qa’im¯ (“the one who rises up”), a figure from the family of the Prophet who was expected to overthrow the tyrannical government and to establish just rule. This idea was tied to the doctrine of occultation, which allowed the Qa’im¯ to go into hiding (when he might appear to have died) until a time when conditions were more favorable for his appearance. Although al-S.adiq¯ downplayed these notions from his home in Medina, they enjoyed wide circulation in Kufan Sh¯ı‘¯ı circles. Al-S.adiq’s¯ death in  triggered a general crisis over the identity of his successor. His followers split into a number of groups, two of which – the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and the antecedents of the Twelvers – are of particular interest to this study. According to later Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı sources, al-S.adiq¯ formally designated his eldest son (Isma‘¯ ¯ıl) as his successor. Isma‘¯ ¯ıl (born around )was broadly considered his father’s favorite, possessed a sterling lineage (his mother was a granddaughter of H. asan), and was known for his political activism. The expectations of many Sh¯ı‘a were disappointed, however, when he predeceased his father by one or two years. Isma‘¯ ¯ıl’s funeral was widely attended, with al-S.adiq¯ making a point of revealing his son’s face to eyewitnesses to dispel rumors that he was still alive. The term “Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı” encompasses two groups that shared a belief that al-S.adiq’s¯ designation of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl remained valid. The first group, which did not have a lasting impact, held that Isma‘¯ ¯ıl was not dead and had gone into occultation to protect himself from the ‘Abbasids.¯ The second group, which represented a majority of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs, acknowledged Isma‘¯ ¯ıl’s death but argued that the Imamate¯ had passed to his son Muh. ammad through a formal designation. Soon after al-S.adiq’s¯ death, Muh. ammad b. Isma‘¯ ¯ıl left Medina and settled in Khuzist¯ an¯ in southwestern Iran, wherehediedaround. His followers again split into two groups. The first argued that Muh. ammad was alive and awaited his return as the Qa’im;¯ the second traced the Imamate¯ through Muh. ammad’s

B. Implications The disputed succession to al-S.adiq¯ decisively influenced the development of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı beliefs in subsequent centuries. First and foremost, the centrality of formal designation (nas..s) was affirmed with claims that al-S.adiq¯ had explicitly identified Isma‘¯ ¯ıl or Muh. ammad b. Isma‘¯ ¯ıl as his successor. This designation was not based on the personal prerogative of an Imam¯ but rather was determined directly by God. It could not be reversed because such a reversal would imply a mistake on the part of a perfect God. Once al-S.adiq¯ designated Isma‘¯ ¯ıl, the issue was decided once and for all. When Isma‘¯ ¯ıl died, the natural choice for Imam¯ was Muh. ammad, his only male heir. To dispel any doubt on this matter, the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs further argued that a transfer of the Imamate¯ from brother to brother was no longer possible. It had applied to H. asan and H. usayn only because of the elevated standing of their mother, Fat¯.ima, and their status as “people of the cloak.” The principles of designation and father-to-son transfer were thereafter embedded in the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı doctrine of the Imamate.¯ Within a few years of the succession crisis, Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıSh¯ı‘ism had transitioned from a public to a clandestine movement. Those Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs who believed that Muh. ammad b. Isma‘¯ ¯ıl would return as the Qa’im¯ remained in a state of waiting, and those who followed his heirs lacked a direct channel of communication with their Imam.¯ There is a clear gap in the historical

 There is a distinct lack of documentary evidence for the existence of this second group between  and . Its views, however, were eventually adopted by those later Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı communities that are responsible for much of the extant source material for early Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıhistory.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 13:50:22, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.010 Fragmentation  record beginning in the late eighth century, with even Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı sources noting the extreme secrecy surrounding the identity of the Imam¯ during this era of concealment (dawr al-satr). This period witnessed the proliferation of certain esoteric theological ideas that highlighted the Imam’s¯ cosmic role in creation and his exclusive interpretive authority. He was hailed as the sole conduit for discovering the hidden meaning of revelation. The idea of a cyclical revelatory history also appeared with the identification of Muh. ammad b. Isma‘¯ ¯ıl as the seventh Imam¯ and Qa’im¯ for the era heralded by the Prophet and ‘Al¯ı (see Chapter ). Although there were slight changes in this theory of “speaking” prophets and “interpreting” Imams¯ in subsequent centuries, it remained a central pillar of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıbelief. Most of the antecedents to the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a held a position identical to that of the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs on the issue of formal designation (nas..s)andthe transfer of the Imamate¯ from father to son. They differed, however, in their narratives of the events surrounding the disputed succession. The central problem for the Twelvers involved the general expectation of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl’s succession among al-S.adiq’s¯ followers. There were also indications in the Sh¯ı‘¯ı sources that al-S.adiq¯ had in fact publicly designated Isma‘¯ ¯ıl as the next Imam.¯ How could this expectation (or formal designation) be reconciled with the affirmation of Mus¯ aal-K¯ az¯.im as the seventh Imam?¯ To answer this question, some early Sh¯ı‘a invoked the concept of bada’¯ ,borrowed from Kaysan¯ ¯ıSh¯ı‘ism. In its earliest formulation, bada’¯ was understood as “a change in the divine decision” resulting from free will. It represented the idea that God had created a series of pathways among which human beings could choose. For example, if an individual recited a prayer for a longer life, God might grant that longer life. The result (i.e., a longer life) was contingent on an individual’s free choice to recite the prayer. If he/she chose not to recite the prayer, his/her life would follow a different (and presumably shorter) path. In the succession crisis to al-S.adiq,¯ some Sh¯ı‘a reinterpreted this concept as an “a change in the divine decision” resulting from historical circumstance. Specifically, they argued that the death of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl and the selection of Mus¯ aasIm¯ am¯ resulted from a change in God’s decree. A similar logic, based on this new understanding of bada’¯ , informed explanations of the “unexpected” death of the eldest son (and presumed heir) of the tenth Imam,¯ ‘Al¯ıal-Had¯ ¯ı(d.). The later Twelver historical tradition (notably al-Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd) expressly rejected the possibility of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl’s

 Modarressi, Crisis, .  For an explanation of this change, see Modarressi, Crisis, .

.‘Al¯ıb.Ab¯ıT. alib¯ (d. ) .H. asan b. ‘Al¯ı(d.) .H. usaynb.‘Al¯ı(d.) ¯ .[Zaynal-‘Abid¯ın] ‘Al¯ıb.H. usayn (d.  or ) .[al-Baqir]¯ Muh. ammad b. ‘Al¯ı(d.) .[al-S.adiq]¯ Ja‘far b. Muh. ammad (d. ) .[al-Kaz¯.im] Mus¯ ab.Ja‘far(d.¯ ) .[al-Rid.a]¯ ‘Al¯ıb.Mus¯ a(d.¯ ) . [al-Jawad]¯ Muh. ammad b. ‘Al¯ı(d.) .[al-Had¯ ¯ı] ‘Al¯ıb.Muh. ammad (d. ) . [al-Askar¯ı] H. asan b. ‘Al¯ı(d.) . [al-Mahd¯ı] Muh. ammad b. H. asan

appointment, offering instead myriad proofs for Mus¯ aal-K¯ az¯.im’s Imamate,¯ including anecdotes about his vast knowledge and his access to divine favor.

iii. the occultation of muh. ammad al-mahd¯ı

A. Background Narrative The identity of the Imam¯ was a recurring problem for the Twelvers in the century following al-S.adiq’s¯ succession. A ﬁgure such as Mus¯ aal-K¯ az¯.im was perceived by the ‘Abbasids¯ as a direct threat at a time when ‘Alid revolts (with Zayd¯ıSh¯ı‘a backing) were occurring at regular intervals. It is not surprising, then, that Twelver Imams¯ were reluctant to make public statements out of fear of ‘Abbasid¯ persecution. Formal designations of succession, which generally took place when an Imam¯ was approaching death and in the presence of a handful of companions, were difﬁcult to verify. More problems arose when the eighth Imam,¯ ‘Al¯ıal-Rid.a(d.¯ ), and the ninth Imam,¯ Muh. ammad al-Jawad¯ (d. ), left single male heirs who were only seven years old. The impact of these changes on Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı theology is discussed in Chapter . For now, it is important to note that each of these disputed successions spawned groups that claimed that a particular Imam¯ was not dead but in occultation (ghayba), waiting for the proper time to return and establish his rule as the Qa’¯ım. Although the Twelver Imams¯ generally adhered to a political quietism (sometimes to the consternation of their own supporters), the ‘Abbasid¯ caliphs remained suspicious of their motivations and wary of their

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 13:50:22, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.010 Fragmentation  revolutionary potential. Through the late eighth and ninth centuries, the Twelver Imams¯ built a broad financial network that collected money (i.e., gifts, alms, charitable donations, and endowments) from their followers through authorized agents. These agents served as the primary conduits for correspondence between the Imams¯ and their Sh¯ı‘a. This period also witnessed the elaboration of a common body of legal literature and distinctive ritual practices including formal pilgrimages to the shrines in Najaf (‘Al¯ı’s grave) and Karbala (H. usayn’s grave). In ,the‘Abbasid¯ caliph al-Mutawakkil (r. –) ordered the tenth Imam,¯ ‘Al¯ıal-Had¯ ¯ı, to Samarra (his capital), where he was placed under close observation and strict confinement. The Imam¯ was now accessible to only a handful of agents, and his direct link to the community was severed in an unprecedented manner. The Twelvers feared that the Imam’s¯ isolation threatened the very institution of the Imamate.¯ Recall that the presence of the Imam¯ was a theological necessity given his role as an inerrant source of religious knowledge. Furthermore, should an Imam¯ die without an heir, this would provide definitive proof of the invalidity of his claims. This feeling of unease reached an apex in the mid and late ninth century, when al-Mutawakkil dramatically increased the persecution of the Sh¯ı‘a and even destroyed H. usayn’s shrine in Karbala. The Imamate¯ of the eleventh Imam,¯ H. asan al-Askar¯ı(d.), was particularly troublesome. He remained isolated from his followers and was criticized for actions that broke sharply with the precedent of previous Imams.¯ These included his financial policies, his active participation at the ‘Abbasid¯ court (like his father, he resided in Samarra), and his apparent reliance on the legal works of other scholars. The later Twelver tradition interpreted these actions as part of a larger agenda meant to prepare the community for the impending loss of direct contact with the Imam.¯ He was also hampered by the competing claims of his brother Ja‘far, which became especially divisive after al-Askar¯ı’s sudden death in  with no apparent heir. Soon after al-Askar¯ı’s burial, however, his primary financial agent ‘Uthman¯ b. Sa‘¯ıd al-‘Amr¯ı announced the existence of a son named Muh. ammad who had gone into hiding out of fear of the government. The announcement of the occultation (ghayba) of the twelfth Imam¯ plunged the Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı community into full-blown crisis. The new Imam¯ was an inaccessible infant whose existence could be verified by only a handful of people. Most of al-Askar¯ı’s financial agents accepted the idea of an infant son in occultation and continued to collect funds on his behalf. ThesamecannotbesaidforthelargerTwelverSh¯ı‘¯ı community, which was left puzzled and confused by the new situation. As discussed subsequently,

B. Implications The immediate aftermath of the occultation saw a rise in Twelver claims that the twelfth Imam¯ was both the Qa’im¯ and the Mahd¯ı. The former term was discussed earlier in reference to a figure who rises up and overthrows an unjust state. The latter term (lit. the rightly guided one) was not specifically Sh¯ı‘¯ı in origin and was often tied to an apocalyptic figure, descended from the Prophet, who would “fill the earth with justice to the extent that it was filled with oppression.” This conflation was not unprecedented; previous Sh¯ı‘¯ı splinter groups had claimed that a given Imam¯ had not died but would return as both the Qa’im¯ and the Mahd¯ı. By the early tenth century, Twelver scholars were referring to the hidden Imam¯ using both titles, and he was formally identified as Muh. ammad al-Mahd¯ı. During the early occultation, the leadership of the Twelver community was exercised by the previously mentioned ‘Uthman¯ b. Sa‘¯ıd al-‘Amr¯ı, who claimed that he corresponded directly with the hidden Imam.¯ According to Twelver sources, this was accepted, albeit with a degree of skepticism. At his death (c. ), ‘Uthman¯ was succeeded by his son Muh. ammad, another well-known companion of al-Askar¯ı. Although the situation remained relatively stable throughout Muh. ammad’s tenure, there were increasing challenges to his authority from within the community. He was followed in  by H. usayn b. Ruh¯ . al-Nawbakht¯ı, who held the office until his death in . The fourth and final caretaker was ‘Al¯ıb.Muh. ammad al-Samarr¯ı, who did not name a successor. His death in  marked the end of the office of caretaker (saf¯ır)oftheImam.¯ The four caretakers of the Imam¯ managed the affairs of the community in a capacity similar to that of the Imam.¯ They collected and managed finances and responded to inquiries. These responses were assumed to come from the Imam¯ himself. As the period of occultation lengthened, the deputies increasingly instructed followers to address their legal questions to jurists. There was also a growing restlessness within the community as many expected the Imam¯ to return by his fortieth birthday, which corresponded to the turn of the century in the Islamic calendar (approximately ). The Imam’s¯ failure to appear exacerbated doubts, for he was now more

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 13:50:22, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.010 Fragmentation  than forty years old and the sources described the Qa’im/Mahd¯ ¯ıasa youthful, energetic man who would actively lead a revolution. Twelver scholars countered by explaining that God would make the Imam¯ appear as a young man regardless of his actual age. The death of the final caretaker did nothing to ease concerns: it marked a decisive loss of any connection with the Imam.¯ In theological terms, the community shifted from a period of minor occultation (where the Imam¯ communicated through caretakers) to one of major occultation (where all conventional contact with the Imam¯ was severed). The early and middle decades of the tenth century witnessed the recast- ingoftheTwelvernotionoftheImamate¯ on the basis of the community’s historical experiences. The idea of a bipartite (minor and major) occultation was justified through preoccultation traditions and examples from the lives of past prophets. Another important element in this transformation involved the fixing of the total number of Imams¯ at twelve. Beginning in the tenth century, Twelver scholars began gathering reports (mostly from Sunn¯ı collections predating the occultation) in which the Prophet pre- dicted the coming of twelve leaders from his tribe followed by a period of anarchy. These accounts became the centerpiece of Twelver arguments for the validity of twelve – and only twelve – Imams.¯ Later, distinctly Twelver variations of these traditions went even further by depicting the Prophet as identifying each of the Imams¯ by name. In fact, they argued that every Imam¯ had known the identity of all the Imams¯ but had practiced precautionary dissimulation (taqiyya) to prevent this information from falling into the wrong hands. By the middle of the tenth century, the idea of a preordained limit of twelve Imams¯ had become a central tenet of Twelver doctrine. The combination of (i) a limit to the number of Imams¯ and (ii) the necessity for an Imam¯ at all times was then used to explain a prolonged occultation. The twelfth Imam¯ would return as a messianic Qa’im/Mahd¯ ¯ı figure near the end of time to fill the earth with justice. This remains a seminal component of contemporary Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ıbelief. An important consequence of the crisis in the Twelver community over the disappeared Imam¯ was the reinvigoration of other Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups. Zayd¯ı Sh¯ı‘¯ı rebellions had continued throughout the eighth and ninth centuries

 In fact, it was this change that established the community as “Twelvers” by setting the number of Imams¯ at twelve. Up to this point, we have been referring to the community as Twelvers anachronistically in anticipation of this development.  Kohlberg discusses this point in “From Imamiyya¯ to Ithna-‘Ashariyya,”¯ –.  The ﬁrst claim was established by Twelver scholars of traditions; the second claim was developed by theologians. The two came together in the course of the tenth and eleventh centuries.

iv. summary The three episodes discussed in this chapter provided the impetus for the formation of distinctive Zayd¯ı, Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı, and Twelver streams of Sh¯ı‘ism. The Zayd¯ıs drew on the revolt of Zayd b. ‘Al¯ı to model the qualities of an ideal Imam.¯ They emphasized the Imam’s¯ political responsibilities, rooting legitimacy in a candidate’s ability to win supporters (da‘wa)and to lead an armed rebellion (khuruj¯ ). Accounts of Zayd’s revolt also betray tensions within Zaydism over the nature and origins of an Imam’s¯ religious knowledge and the status of early Companions who had opposed ‘Al¯ı. These tensions, which played out in subsequent centuries, are discussed in Chapter . The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and the Twelvers remained united on their basic theological understanding of the Imam.¯ The succession to Ja‘far al-S.adiq,¯ however, triggered a dispute over the most critical of issues – namely, the identity of the Imam.¯ The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı sources predominantly identiﬁed Muh. ammad b. Isma‘¯ ¯ıl b. Ja‘far as the legitimate Imam¯ based on formal designation (nas..s). They then maintained that the Imam¯ had taken the community into a period of concealment (dawr al-satr). Such an absence encouraged a proliferation of esoteric tendencies that highlighted the Imam’s¯ role as an interpreter of the inner meaning of revelation. For the Twelvers, disputes over al-S.adiq’s¯ successor resulted in a fundamental transformation of the doctrine of bada’¯ (discussed earlier).

The purported disappearance of the infant son of H. asan al-Askar¯ıpro- duced several of the most distinctive theological beliefs of the Twelvers. The community held that the disappeared Imam¯ was both the Qa’im¯ and the Mahd¯ı, casting him in a millenarian light with expectations that he would lead a revolution to establish just rule and to restore the proper practice of Islam. When he did not return in the course of an average human lifetime, Twelver scholars drew on non-Sh¯ı‘¯ı sources to cap the number of Imams¯ at twelve. Since the world required the presence of an Imam¯ at all times (as the proof of God on earth and the source of proper guidance), they argued that the twelfth and ﬁnal Imam¯ would return from his occultation (ghayba) only near the end of time.

suggested readings for further study The following works provide additional details of and context for Zayd’s revolt:

Biographical Dictionary of Islamic Civilization,s.v.“Zaydb.‘Al¯ı” (Haider) [forthcoming]. Encyclopaedia of Islam, nd ed., s.v. “Mukhtar¯ b. Ab¯ı ‘Ubayd” (Hawting). Encyclopaedia of Islam, nd ed., s.v. “Zaydiyya” (Madelung). Najam Haider, The Origins of the Sh¯ı‘a (New York: Cambridge University Press, ), – and –. Al-Nat¯.iq bi’l-H. aqq, al-Ifada¯ ,ed.Muh. ammad Yah. yaS¯ .alih¯ . Izzan¯ (Sana‘a: Dar¯ al- H. ikma al-Yamaniyya,¯ ), –. [Arabic] Marshall Hodgson, The Venture of Islam (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ), vol. , particularly – (“The Islamic Opposition”). Abu¯ al-Faraj al-Is.bahan¯ ¯ı, Maqatil¯ al-T. alibiyy¯ ¯ın, ed. Sayyid Ah. mad S.aqr (Beirut: Mu’assasat al-‘Alam¯ ¯ı, ), –. [Arabic] Wilferd Madelung, Der Imam al-Qasim¯ ibn Ibrah¯ ¯ım und die Glaubenslehrer der Zaiditen (Berlin: De Gruyter, ), particularly –.[German]

The following works provide additional discussion of the succession crisis after the death of al-S.adiq:¯ Encyclopedia Iranica,s.v.“Bada’”¯ (Madelung). Farhad Daftary, The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs: Their History and Doctrines (New York: Cambridge University Press, ), –. Hossein Modarressi, Crisis and Consolidation in the Formative Period of Shi‘ite Islam (Princeton, NJ: Darwin, ), –. Al-Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd, Kitab¯ al-Irshad¯ ,translatedbyI.K.A.Howard(NewYork: Tahrike Tarsile Qur’an, ), –.

The following works provide additional context regarding the occultation of the twelfth Imam:¯

Religious traditions evolve to fit the changing needs and circumstances of their adherents. If a community shifts from a position of political power to one of subordination, this change may be reflected in a reformulation of religious beliefs. These new beliefs are not presented as innovations but rather are framed as the natural extensions of established beliefs. In this manner, religious traditions are perpetually in flux, with particularly traumatic moments generating fundamental doctrinal reorientations. Sections  and  of this book articulated the basic theological principles that underlie Sh¯ı‘ism as a whole and identified those historical episodes that united and divided Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups. Section  discussed the Sh¯ı‘¯ı belief in rationally comprehensible divine justice (‘adl ) and its connection to legitimate leadership (imama¯ ). Although all Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups agreed on the broad parameters of ‘adl, they disagreed regarding the scope of the Imam’s¯ authority. Section  examined the ways in which theology affected a community’s remembrance of its past. Key concepts such as designation (nas..s) or infallibility (‘is.ma) were written into historical narratives to tie later theological developments to perceptions of a group’s origins. This section of the volume turns to the historical development of Sh¯ı‘ism, examining the processes through which the three largest modern Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups (i.e., the Zayd¯ıs, the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs, and the Twelvers) developed their “classical” forms. Crucial in this process was the historical experience of each community and its interactions with broader Muslim society. Chapter  traces the evolution of Zaydism by focusing on two important transitions. The first (which took place in the eighth and ninth centuries) witnessed a gradual shift from a proto-Sunn¯ı to an activist Sh¯ı‘¯ı orientation; the second (which began in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries) was characterized by a gradual “Sunnification.” Chapter  turns to Isma‘¯ ¯ılism, documenting the tensions between a ruling Imam¯ and the expectations of his followers. The hidden Imams¯ of eighth-century Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıSh¯ı‘ism gave way to ruling Imams¯ in the ninth through the thirteenth centuries whose policies



Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:44:38, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.021  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam reflected both the breadth and the limitations of their authority. Finally, the nineteenth century saw the reemergence of Isma‘¯ ¯ılism in India under the guidance of the Aga Khan. Chapter  examines the three major transformations in Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism prior to the twentieth century. It begins by discussing the impact of the twelfth Imam’s¯ disappearance in the ninth century, documents the importance of the Safavid dynasty in Iran in the sixteenth century, and concludes with an analysis of the rift between rationalist (us.ul¯ ¯ı ) and traditionist (akhbar¯ ¯ı ) scholars in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. A notable lacuna in the chapters that follow concerns the role of law and ritual in identity formation. Such differences emerged as early as the eighth century, clearly demarcating Sh¯ı‘¯ı communities from the larger Muslim population. For the Zayd¯ıs, each Imam¯ was theoretically free to elaborate a new legal code and specify preferred ritual practice. These powers gave Zayd¯ıImams¯ significant flexibility in their interactions with non-Zayd¯ı communities. For the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs, the Imam¯ remained the final arbiter of religious law and could alter the law or transform ritual practice by simple decree. Contemporary Isma‘¯ ¯ılism includes a number of unique characteristics established at the discretion of the Imam.¯ For the Twelvers, the authority of the Imams¯ was increasingly appropriated by the jurists. The Twelver legal tradition functioned in a manner similar to the Sunn¯ı law schools, featuring a legal corpus that carried the weight of precedent. Ritual positions that may have been products of historical experience became institutionalized and functioned as distinctive markers of a Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı identity. A number of these are quite well known. For heirs beyond the categories listed in the Qur’an, the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a incline toward matrilineal inheritance, whereas the Sunn¯ıs tend toward patrilineal inheritance. This is a legacy of the Sh¯ı‘¯ıbeliefthatFat¯.ima was denied her rightful inheritance by Abu¯ Bakr after the death of the Prophet. The Twelver Sh¯ı‘a also permit fixed-term marriages (mut‘a) and reject the Sunn¯ı practice of triple divorce. Other unique Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı positions involve the rules for the giving of religious alms (khums), the ritual ablution, and the call to prayer (adhan¯ ). Although these issues are not discussed in the following chapters, they were critical to the development of a distinct Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı identity.

 In Islamic law, a man and a woman may divorce and remarry two times. Upon a third divorce, however, they are forbidden to remarry until the woman has consummated marriage with a different man.  For more on the role of ritual in Sh¯ı‘¯ı identity formation, see Najam Haider, The Origins of the Sh¯ı‘a (New York: Cambridge University Press, ).

Zaydism is often depicted as the variant of Sh¯ı‘ism most similar to Sunn¯ı Islam. Popular and academic works emphasize the apparent overlap between Zayd¯ı and Sunn¯ı(Shafi‘¯ ¯ı) legal methodology. There is also a general assumption that the Zayd¯ıs accept the legitimacy of the caliphal reigns of Abu¯ Bakr and ‘Umar in contrast to the more intransigent and hostile attitude of the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and the Twelvers. In fact, the Zayd¯ıs are often identified as Sh¯ı‘¯ı exclusively on the basis of their belief in ‘Al¯ı’s right to the succession after the Prophet’s death. Such characterizations obfuscate one of the central dynamics in Zayd¯ı history – namely, the Zayd¯ı community’s oscillation between Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı positions in matters of theology and law. A proper understanding of Zayd¯ıSh¯ı‘ism in its “classical” form (referred to below as “Hadaw¯ ¯ı”) requires the examination of two important transformations: (i) an initial shift from a predominantly (proto-)Sunn¯ıto aSh¯ı‘¯ı orientation in the ninth century and (ii) a subsequent “Sunnifica- tion” fueled by political and religious pressures beginning as early as the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.

i. the initial oscillation: the emergence of hadaw¯ ¯ı zaydism As mentioned in Chapter ,Zaydb.‘Al¯ı was quite moderate in his views on the Prophet’s succession, refusing to condemn the ﬁrst two caliphs as usurpers and extending the scope of legitimate religious authority to non- ‘Alid scholars (e.g., his teacher Was¯.il b. ‘At.a’).¯ This stance was opposed by many Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups, who denounced the early caliphs and restricted religious authority to the family of the Prophet. According to the heresiographers, Zaydism resulted from the merging of two varieties of Sh¯ı‘a known as

 By comparison, most Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups condemn the caliphate of ‘Uthman¯ (r. –) as corrupt and nepotistic.



Variants of this statement differ on the number of Muslim divisions, with figures ranging from seventy-one to seventy-three. Although only one Mus- lim sect is saved in most formulations of the tradition, there are also versions in which only one sect is doomed and the rest are saved. As a whole, the traditions predict a systematic (and inevitable) fragmentation of the Muslim community. This framework exercised a decisive influence on heresiographers, who sought to document the proliferation of a predetermined number of sects and positioned their own group as the sole representative of the Prophet’s original message. Such a view did not allow for the doctrinal evolution of any single group. A sect was a cohesive and unchanging unit that held a discrete set of doctrines and beliefs. This assumption fundamentally distorts the dynamic nature of individual Muslim communities. It also complicates the use of heresiographies as historical sources, prompting Josef van Ess’s cautionary observation that “we must never forget that [sects] owe their names mainly to the need for systematizing felt by the heresiographers and that these names are not necessarily a reflection of social or historical reality.” Recent scholarship suggests the need to reevaluate the heresiographical narrative of early Zaydism. It appears that terms such as “Batr¯ı” or “Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ı” refer to theological orientations as opposed to specific, discernible groups.

 This is a slight simpliﬁcation; the heresiographies list additional groups that fall along a spectrum between the Batr¯ıs and the Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ıs.  Van Ess, “The Kamiliyya,” .

A. From Batrism to Jar¯ udism¯ Historical works on early Zaydism are dominated by discussions of Batr¯ıs and Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ıs. As we have noted, these terms signify two moments in the group’s evolution: Batrism represents the views of most Zayd¯ıs in the early eighth century, and Jar¯ udism¯ represents the beliefs that predominated among Zayd¯ıs by the end of the ninth century. I retain the use of the words “Batr¯ı” and “Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ı” in the interest of clarity (they are present in much of the secondary literature) but remind readers that these terms do not necessarily reﬂect discrete groups.

Batrism The Batr¯ıZayd¯ı position on succession held that the Prophet’s appointment of ‘Al¯ı was implicit rather than explicit. In practical terms, this meant that ‘Al¯ı’s rights were apparent to those who investigated the matter properly, but it left open the possibility that well-intentioned Companions might arrive at incorrect conclusions. Those early Muslims who elected Abu¯ Bakr made an error in judgment by choosing a less qualified candidate as caliph. Such a mistake, however, did not constitute an act of disbelief (kufr), and they remained upright Muslims. A similar logic applied to those Companions who took up arms against ‘Al¯ı during the first civil war. These figures were condemned, but they remained within the bounds of Islam and were sometimes portrayed as later regretting their actions. By contrast, many early Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups went as far as to declare those who opposed ‘Al¯ı’s claims apostates. Although ‘Al¯ı was the rightful successor to the Prophet, the Batr¯ıs upheld the legitimacy of the first two caliphs (i.e., Abu¯ Bakr and ‘Umar). They

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:26:34, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.012  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam argued that the lack of a formal objection from ‘Al¯ı constituted a tacit approval of their rule. If ‘Al¯ı was satisfied with these men, then there were no grounds for any Muslims to denounce or curse them. As a whole, the Batr¯ıs held that a less worthy candidate could hold power in the presence of a superior candidate as long as he ruled in a just and upright manner. The case for ‘Uthman¯ was more complex, with Batr¯ıs affirming the first six years of his reign and condemning the last six because of his turn toward nepotism. Even in the case of ‘Uthman,¯ however, the Batr¯ı position did not go so far as to declare him an apostate, and a small minority withheld judgment altogether. The broader Sh¯ı‘¯ı community rejected Batr¯ı reasoning and restricted legitimate leadership to the most worthy candidate, who, in this instance, was clearly ‘Al¯ı. With respect to the law and legal authority, the Batr¯ıs believed that proper religious knowledge was vested in the Muslim community at large. They allowed ‘Alids to study with a range of non-‘Alid scholars, including those who emphasized the exclusive legal authority of traditions transmitted by the Companions of the Prophet. The fact that the Batr¯ıs affirmed the moral standing of all the Companions further cemented their investment in traditions as sources for religious knowledge. Because all such knowledge was learned rather than divinely inspired, candidates for the Imamate¯ had to demonstrate a mastery of the law and its foundational sources. This doctrine of knowledge fit firmly within the bounds of the proto-Sunnism of the early eighth century. The Batr¯ıs were particularly hostile to many of the central theological beliefs associated with the larger Kufan Sh¯ı‘¯ı community. A number of these beliefs were discussed in Chapters  and , but they merit further analysis at this point. The Batr¯ıs were most vocally opposed to the idea of raj‘a (return), which held that some figures would return from the dead before the Resurrection. This doctrine was apparently endorsed by a number of early groups but rose to prominence only beginning in the mid-eighth century when some Sh¯ı‘a began to claim that various deceased Imams¯ would return from the dead at an indeterminate point in the future. The Batr¯ıs also rejected the notion of taqiyya (precautionary dissimulation), whereby adherents were permitted to hide their true beliefs in threatening situations. This often resulted in hostile encounters that feature prominently in Batr¯ı historical reports. In a typical anecdote preserved in the heresiographical literature, a Kufan named ‘Umar b. Riyah¯ . (d. c. eighth century) visits al-Baqir¯ in Medina and asks a question pertaining to ritual law that he had originally posed a year earlier. On this occasion, however, al-Baqir¯ purportedly issues a ruling that contradicts his previous

Jar¯ udism¯ The Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ıs (ostensibly named after Abual-J¯ ar¯ ud¯ Ziyad¯ b. al-Mundhir, d. mid-eighth century) held that the Prophet had explicitly and unambiguously designated ‘Al¯ı as his successor. In addition, they argued that the Prophet had also designated H. asan and H. usayn to succeed their father as Imams.¯ As evidence, they cited a number of Qur’anic¯ arguments and, in particular, the events at Ghad¯ır Khumm during the Prophet’s final pilgrimage(seeChapter). Given the clarity of the evidence, the Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ıs asserted that those Companions who actively opposed ‘Al¯ı or usurped his rights had committed an act of disbelief (kufr) and apostatized. This group included the first three caliphs (Abu¯ Bakr, ‘Umar, and ‘Uthman)¯ along ¯ with ‘Al¯ı’s opponents in the first civil war (e.g., ‘A’isha, T. alh. a, al-Zubayr, and Mu‘awiya).¯ The Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ı rejection of the first three caliphs was also a consequence of their limiting of legitimate leadership to the most worthy candidate. The Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ıs restricted legal authority to the descendants of ‘Al¯ıand Fat¯.ima. This position led them to deny the authority of non-‘Alid figures and reduce the importance of traditions transmitted by early

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:26:34, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.012  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam Companions and jurists. Some Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ıs went so far as to discount age or seniority, equating the opinion of an old ‘Alid scholar with that of an ‘Alidinfantinacradle.IncasesinwhichanImam¯ appeared to lack the proper credentials, they argued that God would inspire knowledge in his heart as a seed sprouts in the rain. Such a view meant that a candidate for leadership need not rely on formal legal methodology in the derivation of law. The Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ıs affirmed a number of those theological beliefs that were rejected by the Batr¯ıs. They upheld the doctrine of raj‘a, with some groups going so far as to assert that the ‘Alid rebel al-Nafs al-Zakiyya (d. ) would return from the dead. The Batr¯ıs equated this idea with disbelief and often used it to justify their claims that the Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ıs were apostates. The Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ıs also accepted both taqiyya and bada’¯ . Although these doctrines are rarely ascribed to individual Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ıs, they can be deduced from polemics between Batr¯ıs and other Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups. Those figures who reject al-Baqir¯ (for taqiyya)oral-S.adiq¯ (for bada’¯ ), for example, invariably convert to Batrism as opposed to Jar¯ udism.¯ This suggests a convergence between Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ıs and other early Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups on these theological issues. This description of Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ı beliefs places them firmly within the bounds of early Sh¯ı‘ism. The Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ıs affirm ‘Al¯ı’s explicit right to succession and condemn (and even declare apostates) those Companions who opposed him. They elevate the descendants of ‘Al¯ıandFat¯.ima above the rest of the early Muslim community by investing them with an exclusive political and religious authority. Finally, they uphold a number of distinctively Sh¯ı‘¯ı theological positions that were denounced by both the Batr¯ıs and most proto-Sunn¯ı scholars. The primary differences between the early Imam¯ ¯ıs (the forebears of both the Twelvers and the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs) and the Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ıs center on the identity of the Imam¯ and the process of his selection.

An Explanation of Terminology Table . lists the primary characteristics associated with Batr¯ıandJar¯ ud¯ ¯ı Zaydism. Recall that these terms are often used by heresiographers to identify two separate groups of Zayd¯ıs that came together during Zayd’s revolt in Kufa and then struggled for control of the movement into the ninth century. As discussed earlier, this portrait is problematic because of its

 Zayd¯ıs permit taqiyya only as long as an Imam’s¯ level of support remains below a certain minimum. After he has won enough followers, he is required to rebel against an unjust government. Zayd¯ı scholars disagree as to how many supporters are necessary before revolution becomes incumbent.

Batr¯ıZaydism Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ıZaydism [The dominant form of Zaydism c. ] [The dominant form of Zaydism after ]

‘Al¯ı’s designation was implicit. ‘Al¯ı’s designation was explicit. Opponents of ‘Al¯ı made a mistake in Opponents of ‘Al¯ı are apostates. Those reasoning. Those who took up arms who took up arms are also apostates. repented. Judgment: No cursing them or declaring Judgment: Cursing them and declaring them apostates. them apostates is allowed. Allows for the Imamate¯ of the less worthy Restricts the Imamate¯ to the most worthy candidate. candidate. Legal authority diffused in the larger Legal authority restricted to the Muslim community. descendants of ‘Al¯ı and Fat¯.ima. Rejects the theological doctrines of raj‘a, Accepts the theological doctrines of raj‘a, taqiyya,andbada’¯ . taqiyya,andbada’¯ .

provenance in heresiographical literature. There is considerable evidence that the terms Batr¯ıandJar¯ ud¯ ¯ı do not represent different groups but rather different moments in history. Zayd¯ıs in the middle of the eighth century were predominantly Batr¯ı and therefore aligned closely with the segment of Kufan society that eventually became Sunn¯ı. Zayd¯ıs in the ninth century were increasingly Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ı, sharing many of the characteristic beliefs of other Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups. These two views provide a road map for the evolution of Zaydism over the course of a century. In the next section, we examine some of the reasons for this change.

B. Revolution and Charisma The shift in Zaydism from a proto-Sunn¯ı (Batr¯ı) to a Sh¯ı‘¯ı(Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ı) orientation is observable in the changing demographics of ‘Alid rebellions. Support for Zayd b. ‘Al¯ıin included numerous scholars later considered leading Sunn¯ı authorities, most prominently AbuH¯ . an¯ıfa (d. ), the eponym of one of the four surviving Sunn¯ı schools of law. These figures were part of the piety-minded movement discussed in Chapter , which was committed to the establishment of an Islamic social order under the leadership of an ‘Alid. A similar profile of supporters appeared during the revolt of al-Nafs al-Zakiyya and his brother Ibrah¯ ¯ım in . This rebellion witnessed the first appearance in the historical sources of a group that self- identified as Zayd¯ıs. A mere twenty years later, however, the uprising of

S.ah¯ . ib Fakhkh H. usayn b. ‘Al¯ı(d.) won little backing from scholars of aproto-Sunn¯ı inclination. In fact, the most telling feature of this rebellion was the lack of any discernible Batr¯ı elements. This change suggests that Zaydism was increasingly less appealing to the proto-Sunn¯ı population and more closely aligned with early Sh¯ı‘¯ı beliefs. It is worthwhile to pause and consider the impact of revolutionary failures on the Zayd¯ı community at large. The first point to emphasize is that the rebellions of early ‘Alids were not exclusively Zayd¯ı in any sense of the word. The sources often depict significant tensions between the Zayd¯ıs and their chosen Imam.¯ Ibrah¯ ¯ım b. ‘Abd Allah,¯ for example, was routinely questioned by his Zayd¯ı followers about the structure of his ritual prayer and his allocation of funds. After his death, the Zayd¯ıs went underground and united around the figure of ‘¯Isab.Zayd(d.¯ )inKufa.‘¯Isa,¯ who never organized a rebellion, was ascribed a number of Batr¯ı views, particularly with respect to ‘Al¯ı’s succession and the permissibility of religious knowledge from non-‘Alid sources. During the twenty years of his leadership, the Zayd¯ıs were relentlessly pursued by the ‘Abbasids.¯ The burden became so great that they decided to inform the ‘Abbasid¯ caliph of ‘¯Isa’s¯ death to relieve the pressure on the larger community. Kufa remained the center for a Zaydism that was primarily Batr¯ı in perspective but ‘Abbasid¯ persecution had significantly weakened the movement, prompting it to adopt a general political quiescence over the next few decades. This provided an opening for a fundamental theological transformation that first coalesced in the H. ijaz¯ region of Arabia. The rebellion of S.ah¯ . ib Fakhkh H. usayn b. ‘Al¯ı in Medina in  was a key turning point for Zayd¯ıSh¯ı‘ism. The unrest was initially caused by the policies of the new ‘Abbasid¯ caliph al-Had¯ ¯ı(r.–). Shortly after his ascension, al-Had¯ ¯ı ordered a number of prominent ‘Alids to relocate from Kufa to Medina, where they could be more easily monitored. The governor of Medina and Mecca then instituted a series of measures designed to keep track of the ‘Alids, including a mandatory daily roll call. After some ‘Alids refused to comply with the new regulations, the governor threatened H. usayn b. ‘Al¯ı, the senior member of the H. asanid branch of the ‘Alids. The ‘Alids quickly united under his leadership and rose up in rebellion. They were defeated by a makeshift Umayyad army at Fakhkh (six miles outside Mecca). The most vocal proponent of the rebellion was Yah. yab.‘AbdAll¯ ah¯ b. H. asan b. H. asan b. ‘Al¯ıb.Ab¯ıT. alib¯ (d. –), who, along with his brother Idr¯ıs (d. ), was placed in charge of military affairs. The sources depict him as an advocate of distinctively Sh¯ı‘¯ı practices such as the inclusion

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:26:34, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.012 Zaydism in the Balance between Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘a  of the phrase “Hurry to the best of works” in the call to prayer. After the rebellion failed, Yah. ya¯ inherited the leadership of the Zayd¯ıs, but he differed in important ways from his predecessors. Most significantly, his father (also the father of the rebels al-Nafs al-Zakiyya and Ibrah¯ ¯ım) had died when he was quite young, leaving him and Idr¯ıs to be raised in the household of Ja‘far al-S.adiq¯ (the sixth Imam¯ of the Twelvers). This upbringing shaped his ritual practice and theological views along Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı lines. In other words, Yah. ya¯ held beliefs best characterized as Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ı, as opposed to the Batr¯ı inclinations of previous Zayd¯ıImams.¯ This difference became particularly apparent in Yah. ya’s¯ dealings with the (largely Batr¯ı) Kufan Zayd¯ı community. For example, Yah. ya¯ reportedly refused to lead the Kufans in prayer because they would not abandon Batr¯ı ritual practices (e.g., the drinking of date wine, the wiping of leather socks during ablution). The resulting tensions reflected the gap between an older (Batr¯ı) and newer (Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ı) Zaydism. Yah. yaandIdr¯ ¯ıs escaped the battle of Fakhkh by mixing with throngs of pilgrims, traveling first to Abyssinia and then to a series of locations from Yemen to Armenia. Yah. ya¯ eventually made his way to Khuras¯ an¯ and Day- lam (both in modern Iran) while dispatching his brother to North Africa. Idr¯ıs was killed before he could organize a rebellion, allegedly (according to the Zayd¯ı sources) at the hands of a Zayd¯ı theologian whose views resembled those of the Batr¯ıs. Yah. ya¯ found supporters in Daylam and led an uprising in –. When the rebellion failed, Yah. ya¯ secured a favorable amnesty agreement from the ‘Abbasid¯ caliph al-Rash¯ıd (r. –). The agreement contained the following provisions: (i) unconditional pardons for Yah. ya¯ and seventy of his followers, (ii) freedom of movement throughout the empire, (iii) a guarantee of no government surveillance, and (iv) a large sum of money. The penalties on al-Rash¯ıd for violating the terms were high and included an automatic triple divorce from his wife and the freeing of all his slaves and concubines. The importance of this agreement cannot be overstated. From  through ,Yah. ya¯ was able to travel relatively freely with access to incred- ible financial recourses. He compensated ‘Alid families for the loss of relatives at Fakhkh. He rebuilt Zayd¯ı networks and expanded their scope to regions outside of the Arabian Peninsula and Iraq, such as North Africa and northern Iran. He also benefitted from the fact that the amnesty agreement did not specify the names of his followers. Whenever al-Rash¯ıd arrested a Zayd¯ı for seditious activity, Yah. ya¯ would claim that he was one of his (unspecified) seventy followers and therefore immune from prosecution. These terms infuriated al-Rash¯ıd, who pressured prominent scholars

to invalidate the amnesty document. Yah. ya¯ was eventually arrested in  on a (false) charge and kept prisoner in Baghdad, where he was executed in . By this point, however, he had precipitated a fundamental change in Zaydism both in terms of its legal and theological principles (a strong transition toward Jar¯ udism)¯ and its political strategy (a new focus on outlying areas).

C. Embracing Mu‘tazilism Operating far from ‘Abbasid¯ central authority, the Zayd¯ıs established independent states in the Caspian region in  and the Yemen in .These states affirmed Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ı principles, but they differed on issues of law and theology. The legal differences were not overly problematic given the theoretical ability of each Zayd¯ıImam¯ to craft his own school of law (see Chapter ). Although Imams¯ were increasingly pressured to adhere to the established precedent of previous rulings, they retained the right to issue their own legal opinions. Theological differences were more problematic, as Zayd¯ı scholars defined Zayd¯ı communal identity primarily on the basis of theology. The first part of this book discussed the theology of various Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups, noting the eventual Zayd¯ı appropriation of Mu‘tazilism. This development is reflected, for example, in Zayd¯ı narratives that emphasize the pupil- teacher relationship between Zayd b. ‘Al¯ı and the Mu‘tazil¯ı scholar Was¯.il b. ‘At.a’¯ (see Chapter ). In reality, however, it took a number of centuries for the Zayd¯ıs to adopt Mu‘tazil¯ı theology. The Zayd¯ıs in the southern Caspian regions were divided between two theological positions: the Nas¯.iriyya and the Qasimiyya.¯ The Nas¯.iriyya (named for al-Nas¯.ir H. asan b. ‘Al¯ıal-Ut.rush¯ [d. ]) were adamantly opposed to the Mu‘tazil¯ıs. The Qasimiyya¯ (named for Qasim¯ b. Ibrah¯ ¯ım al-Rass¯ı[d.]) also differed from the Mu‘tazil¯ıs but agreed on issues such as free will and anti-anthropomorphism. More important, they were not as openly hostile to the Mu‘tazil¯ıs as the Nas¯.ir¯ıs were. Madelung has argued that this moderation made later Qasim¯ ¯ıs receptive to Mu‘tazil¯ı theological positions. A similar moderate tendency characterized the views of al-Had¯ ¯ıYah. yab.H¯ . usayn (d. ), the founder of the Zayd¯ı state in Yemen. The Zayd¯ı appropriation of Mu‘tazil¯ı theology was aided by the decline of the Caspian Zayd¯ı community in the late twelfth century (although even it had adopted Mu‘tazil¯ı positions in the eleventh century) and the concurrent rise in Yemen of Zayd¯ıImams¯ who were staunch advocates of Mu‘tazilism. This victory was not absolute, and opposition to some

ii. the impact of politics and power: sunniﬁcation6 The dominance of Hadaw¯ ¯ıZaydism in the Yemeni highlands was contested in the ﬁfteenth century by Sunn¯ı traditionist scholars, who believed that the Qur’an¯ and Prophetic traditions were the exclusive means for discerning God’s will. They asserted the superiority of Sunn¯ı methods for detecting forged accounts and considered the Sunn¯ı canonical collections the primary repositories for authentic traditions. The traditionists were also critical of the established Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı schools of law (madhhabs) and asserted the right to issue independent legal rulings unbound by juristic

 One area in which this new conﬁguration produced a change in standard Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ı beliefs involved the status of the Companions who had opposed ‘Al¯ı. Whereas the Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ıs cursed these Companions and declared them apostates, the Mu‘tazil¯ıs inclined toward a more equivocal approach. Yemeni Zayd¯ıs ultimately adopted a wide range of views on the probity of the Companions and the permissibility of cursing them. See Haykel, Revival, –.  The discussion of the Qasim¯ ¯ı dynasty and al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı in this section is largely derived from Bernard Haykel’s Revival and Reform in Islam.  As mentioned previously, this term refers to a form of Zaydism that combines Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ıandMu‘tazil¯ı beliefs with legal positions ascribed to al-Had¯ ¯ı.  There is considerable ambiguity in the term “traditionist.” In the context of this study, the word is meant to convey a position that privileges the use of Prophetic traditions in the articulation of law. Although traditionists sometimes deny the normative authority of the Sunn¯ı law schools, they continue to rely on Sunn¯ı legal theory. For this reason, I often use the terms “Sunn¯ı” and “traditionist” interchangeably. Readers should note that “traditionism” is not the same as “Wahhabism”¯ or “Salaﬁsm.” The latter rejects the entirety of the Sunn¯ı legal tradition and calls for a reformulation of Islamic law on the basis of the revealed texts alone.

Duration of Imam¯ Reign

(H) al-Mans.ur¯ al-Qasim¯ b. Muh. ammad – (H) al-Mu’ayyad Muh. ammad – (H) al-Mutawakkil Isma‘¯ ¯ıl – (H) al-Mahd¯ıAh. mad – (H) al-Mu’ayyad Muh. ammad (II) – (T) al-Mahd¯ıMuh. ammad (S.ah¯ . ib al-Mawahib)¯ – (T) al-Mutawakkil al-Qasim¯ – (T) al-Mans.ur¯ H. usayn – (T) al-Mahd¯ı al-‘Abbas¯ – (T) al-Mans.ur¯ ‘Al¯ı – (T) al-Mutawakkil Ah. mad – (T) al-Mahd¯ı‘AbdAllah¯ – From  to , there were nine Qasim¯ ¯ıImams,¯ whose reigns lasted from less than a year to four years. The ﬁnal Qasim¯ ¯ı Imam¯ was al-Had¯ ¯ıGhalib¯ (–).

Note: (H) signiﬁes an Imam¯ inclined toward Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism, whereas (T) signiﬁes an Imam¯ inclined toward traditionism.

precedent. According to the traditionists, the Zayd¯ıs were too bound to past interpretations grounded in arbitrary human judgment. They blindly imitated (taql¯ıd ) their predecessors in matters of belief and utilized personal opinion (ra’y) in matters of law. Even worse, the Zayd¯ıs were heavily invested in dogmatic theology (kalam¯ ) through their affirmation of core Mu‘tazil¯ı principles. The first representative of the traditionist school in Yemen was Ibn al- Waz¯ır (d. ). He was followed by a line of similar scholars that included most prominently Bahran¯ al-S.a‘d¯ı(d.), Muh. ammad b. H. asan b. al- Qasim¯ (d. ), S.alih¯ . b. Mahd¯ı al-Maqbal¯ı(d.), and Ibn al-Am¯ır (d. ). The most important and influential traditionist was Muh. ammad al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı(d.), who was born into a Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ıfamilyina town outside Sana‘a in . This was a particularly opportune moment in Yemeni history. The ruling Zayd¯ı dynasty (the Qasim¯ ¯ıs) had lost significant support among Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zayd¯ı scholars and was seeking an alternate source of political legitimacy. The Zayd¯ı state, which was traditionally restricted to northern Yemen, had also established close ties with Sunn¯ı(Shafi‘¯ ¯ı) scholarly circles in southern Yemen. These developments produced a unique

A. The Early Qasim¯ ¯ı Zayd¯ıImams¯ of Yemen: The Classical Paradigm The Zayd¯ı dynasties that ruled parts of northern Yemen beginning in  adhered to a classical Zayd¯ı archetype of leadership. Recall from Chapter  that an Imam¯ was expected to possess a number of qualities. Hehadtobeadescendantof‘Al¯ıandFat¯.ima with the physical capacity to rule. He had to establish his scholarly credentials by authoring original works and achieving the rank of independent jurist (mujtahid ). The Imam¯ was also held to elevated ethical and moral standards that included manifesting piety in the performance of religious rituals, abstaining from forbidden practices, and exhibiting justice in his management of taxes and other state funds. In practical terms, a Zayd¯ıImam¯ had to demonstrate excellence on the battlefield and skill in administration and governance. This real-world competence was often associated with his success at summoning people (da‘wa)toriseup(khuruj¯ ) against an oppressive ruler. In other words, a qualified candidate earned followers through his scholarly and personal qualities and seized power through his military prowess. The ideal Zayd¯ıImam¯ was both a “man of the pen” and a “man of the sword.” The Zayd¯ı theory of the Imamate¯ destabilizes the institutional assumptions of a state (dawla) in a number of ways. First, it does not allow for a lineal succession in leadership. The Imam¯ acquires political (and religious) legitimacy through a broad scholarly consensus in favor of his claims. Zayd¯ı successions required the son of an Imam¯ to issue a formal summons to Zayd¯ı scholars upon his father’s death. If there was more than one candidate, the scholars would evaluate each, with the less qualified deferring to the better candidate. Such procedures had a destabilizing effect, with rival candidates often establishing small Imamates¯ in isolated localities. Second, the Imam’s¯ authority is contingent on his possession of a set of ideal characteristics. A moral failing or the mishandling of government finances undermines the very foundations of his power, potentially opening the door to rival claims. Third, the entire state edifice is built around the person of the Imam,¯ who guarantees the religious probity of the state. The Imam¯ has the exclusive right to interpret law, enforce punishments

 See Chapter  for a discussion of the Zayd¯ıImamate.¯ Many of these qualities are also detailed in Haykel, Revival, –.

TheimageonegetsfromtheZayd¯ı sources of an imam . . . is perhaps in part idealised, but central to their [the Zayd¯ıs’] description of a “summons” is the personality of the imam whose attributes count for both its legitimacy and effectiveness. The political structures they established are not to be understood in terms of a state (dawla); rather, theirs was a da‘wa [summons] whose fortunes followed those of the imam. As a result, these da‘was had an evanescent and terminal quality. In other words, authority in a Zayd¯ıImamate¯ was vested in an individual and did not necessarily carry through to his descendants. This differs from standard Sunn¯ı political theory that allows for lineal succession and locates authority in the institutions of state bureaucracy. Each Zayd¯ıImam,¯ by contrast, could articulate his own legal code and develop personalized institutions for governance. Initially, the Zayd¯ıImams¯ of the Qasim¯ ¯ı dynasty in Yemen fit the Zayd¯ı model of the Imamate.¯ The dynasty was founded by al-Mans.ur¯ al-Qasim¯ b. Muh. ammad (r. –), a widely respected scholar who reportedly authored forty-one works on subjects ranging from poetry and theology to jurisprudence. Al-Mans.ur¯ al-Qasim¯ spent his life in open rebellion against the Ottoman Turks, who ruled much of Yemen at the end of the sixteenth century. By his death in ,al-Mans.ur¯ al-Qasim¯ controlled significant areas in northern Yemen. He was succeeded by his sons, al- Mu’ayyad Muh. ammad (r. –) and al-Mutawakkil Isma‘¯ ¯ıl (–), who expelled the Ottomans in  and established for the first time a Zayd¯ı state spanning most of Yemen from the northern highlands to the southern

 Here Haykel translates the Arabic word da‘wa as summons. The term represents a Zayd¯ıImam’s¯ summoning of followers to aid his establishment of a state.  Haykel, Revival, .  For the standard Sunn¯ı approach to government, see al-Maward¯ ¯ı’s The Ordinances of Government.

B. The Later Qasim¯ ¯ı Zayd¯ıImams¯ of Yemen: Embracing Traditionism The nature of the Qasim¯ ¯ıImamate¯ changed with the succession of al-Mahd¯ı Muh. ammad, known by the title S.ah¯ . ib al-Mawahib¯ (r. –), whose authority was predicated exclusively on military force. The subsequent history of the Qasim¯ ¯ı dynasty saw a steady abandonment of Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zayd¯ı principles. From  until  (a period encompassing six Imamates),¯ Imams¯ were appointed by their predecessors with no regard for scholarly (or any other) qualiﬁcations. Many of these rulers were considered “restricted” Imams¯ (see Chapter ). This meant that they did not have access to the full powers or authority of the Imamate¯ and lacked the legitimacy of “full” Imams.¯ Given their vulnerability, later Qasim¯ ¯ıImams¯ sought the support of traditionist scholars, such as al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı, who upheld the validity of a dynastic succession through formal appointment (citing the example of Abu¯ Bakr and ‘Umar) and prohibited uprisings against a sitting ruler

 It is reported that al-Mu’ayyad Muh. ammad produced thirteen works, whereas al-Mutawakkil Isma‘¯ ¯ıl produced twenty-three. Haykel, Revival, .

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:26:34, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.012  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam regardless of his scholarly credentials as long as he fulfilled his basic religious obligations. The later Qasim¯ ¯ı state included offices previously unknown in the Yemeni Zayd¯ı context, such as chamberlains (who controlled access to the sovereign) and personal servants/guards (who secluded the ruler from the public). It rested on a formal court bureaucracy (d¯ıwan¯ )thatman- aged the state in lieu of the direct administration of previous Zayd¯ıImams.¯ The bureaucratic structure included a centralized education system and a judiciary led by a chief judge (qad¯. ¯ıal-qud. at¯ ). There was also a move away from a tribal military to one composed primarily of slaves, freeing the succession process from the need to summon and win the support of tribes. Finally, state coinage adopted an Ottoman style, replacing mention of the family of the Prophet with assertions of dynastic succession. All of these changes aligned the Qasim¯ ¯ı state with Sunn¯ı dynasties modeled on the ‘Abbasid¯ Empire in Baghdad and the Ottoman Empire in Istanbul. Haykel offers three explanations for the transformation of the Qasim¯ ¯ı state, each of which is related to its early success. The first explanation is economic and stems from the dynasty’s control of major ports and the growth of agricultural (i.e., coffee) exports. The resulting revenue surplus enabled the Qasim¯ ¯ı state to maintain its hold over an increasingly unmanageable realm that stretched from the northern highlands to the desert valleys of the southeast. Although the Imamate¯ lost control of the ports in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, it remained dependent on the tax revenue of predominantly Sunn¯ı agricultural areas. The economic importance of these regions likely influenced the religious policies of the Qasim¯ ¯ıImams,¯ who patronized traditionist scholars to maintain the support of local Sunn¯ı populations. Haykel’s second explanation focuses on the influence of Sunn¯ı centers of learning in the southern regions of Yemen. As early as al-Mutawakkil Isma‘¯ ¯ıl, a number of Hadaw¯ ¯ı scholars wrote works that reframed Zaydism in a manner that would secure Sunn¯ı approval, sometimes at the cost of core Zayd¯ı beliefs. The direct causes of this phenomenon are difficult to identify with certainty. The Qasim¯ ¯ı state extended far beyond the traditional northern highland borders of previous Zayd¯ıImamates,¯ allowing for a more globalized scholarly perspective. Perhaps Zayd¯ı scholars felt pigeonholed in one corner of the Arabian Peninsula and wanted to find a place in a global Muslim community. They may have also been motivated by a genuine desire to foster unity among different legal and theological schools in the wider Muslim world. Regardless of their

C. Muh. ammad al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı and the Legacy of Sunnification Muh. ammad al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı was born in  to a notable family of Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zayd¯ı scholars. His father served as a judge under the Qasim¯ ¯ıImam¯ al-Mahd¯ıal-‘Abbas¯ for forty years. Al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı received a fairly typical Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ı education, but he was apparently unsatisfied with the reasoning his teachers offered for choosing one legal opinion over another. This prompted him to study with Sayyid ‘Abd al-Qadir¯ b. Ah. mad al- Kawkaban¯ ¯ı(d.), a renowned traditionist scholar in Sana‘a. The experience initiated a gradual but steady turn from Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism to Sunn¯ı traditionism. Over the next few years, al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı acquired his own circle of students and began issuing legal rulings that were spread throughout Yemen. According to Haykel, scholars such as al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı were “juridi- cally and religiously knitting together the Shafi‘¯ ¯ı regions of Yemen with

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:26:34, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.012  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam the Zayd¯ı highlands, and more specifically with the seat of government in Sanaa.” At the age of thirty, al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı claimed the title of mujtahid mut.laq (an unrestricted religious authority). This constituted a rejection of the Muslim law schools (Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı), which he deemed too dependent on the judgment of previous human authorities and too dismissive of the revealed sources. The primary targets of al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı’s criticism, however, were the Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zayd¯ıs, whom he accused of abandoning independent legal reasoning (ijtihad¯ ) in favor of blindly following (taql¯ıd) the opinions of past jurists. Recall (from Chapters  and ) that the Zayd¯ıs permitted the use of ijtihad¯ and empowered each Imam¯ to formulate his own legal code. Al- Shawkan¯ ¯ı was essentially arguing that his views were more representative of classical Zayd¯ı legal theory than were those of his Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ı opponents. The legal method espoused by al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı required scholars to return to the early sources and to issue rulings backed by clear textual evidence. For al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı, the most reliable Prophetic traditions were found in Sunn¯ı collections. On the basis of these traditions, he arrived at conclusions that contradicted central Zayd¯ı beliefs. In line with Sunn¯ı legal theory, he rejected the special status of the family of the Prophet and dispersed legal authority within the Muslim community at large. He also rejected the most distinctive Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ı requirements for the Imamate,¯ including (i) the lineal condition that an Imam¯ must be a descendant of ‘Al¯ıandFat¯.ima, (ii) the activist condition that an Imam¯ must issue a summons (da‘wa) and rise up in rebellion (khuruj¯ ), and (iii) the scholarly condition that the Imam¯ must demonstrate legal expertise. In ,al-Mans.ur¯ ‘Al¯ı(r.–) appointed al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı to the post of chief judge. He would hold this position for the next thirty-nine years, serving three Qasim¯ ¯ıImams¯ and, in the process, fundamentally altering the religious landscape of Yemen. A close study of al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı’s writings and political career is beyond the scope of the current study. It suffices to say that he steadily increased his power by providing the Qasim¯ ¯ıImams¯ with a basis for legitimacy independent of the Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zayd¯ı scholarly establishment. Al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı’s impact, however, went far beyond the political realm. First, he had access to significant financial resources, which he used to mentor large numbers of students who spread Sunn¯ı traditionist ideas in the Zayd¯ı highlands. Second, he used his power over judicial appointments to place his students and scholars of similar views in positions of authority. His long career meant that Sunn¯ı traditionist scholars were

 Haykel, Revival, .

suggested readings for further study The following works discuss the nature and structure of heresiographical works: Josef van Ess, “The Kamiliyya: On the Genesis of a Heresiographical Tradition,” in Sh¯ı‘ism, ed. Etan Kohlberg (Burlington, VT: Ashgate, ), –. Adam Gaiser, “Satan’s Seven Specious Arguments: Al-Shahrastan¯ ¯ı’s Kitab¯ al-Milal wa-l-nih. al in an Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı Context,” Journal of Islamic Studies  (): –. Keith Lewinstein, “The Azariqa¯ in Islamic Heresiography,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies  (): –. Keith Lewinstein, “Making and Unmaking a Sect: The Heresiographers and the S.ufriyya,” Studia Islamica  (): –. Keith Lewinstein, “Notes on Eastern H. anaﬁte Heresiography,” Journal of the American Oriental Society  (): –. The following works examine the Batr¯ı-Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ı dichotomy within Zaydism: Encyclopaedia of Islam, nd ed., s.v. “Batriyya” (Madelung). Encyclopaedia of Islam, nd ed., s.v. “Zaydiyya” (Madelung). Najam Haider, “A Community Divided: An Examination of the Murder of Idr¯ıs b. ‘Abd Allah¯ (d. /),” Journal of the American Oriental Society  (): –.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:26:34, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.012  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam Najam Haider, The Origins of the Sh¯ı‘a (New York: Cambridge University Press, ), particularly – and –. Najam Haider, “Yah. yab.‘AbdAll¯ ah,”¯ in Biographical Dictionary of Islamic Civi- lization, ed. Mustafa Shah (New York: I. B. Tauris, forthcoming). Maher Jarrar, “Ibn Ab¯ıYah. ya,”¯ in Transmission and Dynamics of the Textual Sources of Islam, ed. Kees Versteegh et al. (Leiden: Brill, ), –. Maher Jarrar, “Some Aspects of Imam¯ ¯ı Influence on Early Zaydite Theology,” in Islamstudien ohne Ende, ed. Rainer Brunner et al. (Wurzburg:¨ Deutsche Morgenlandische¨ Gesellschaft, ), –. ForageneralhistoryoftheearlyZayd¯ı state in Yemen, see Cornelius van Aren- donk, Les débuts de l’imamat¯ zaidite au Yémen, translated by Jacques Ryckmans (Leiden: Brill, ). [French] The following works discuss the theological views of the early Zayd¯ıs and their embrace of Mu‘tazilism: Encyclopaedia of Islam, nd ed., s.v. “Zaydiyya” (Madelung). Wilferd Madelung, Der Imam al-Qasim¯ ibn Ibrah¯ ¯ım und die Glaubenslehrer der Zaiditen (Berlin: De Gruyter, ). [German] Wilferd Madelung, “Imam¯ al-Qasim¯ b. al-Ibrah¯ ¯ım,” in On Both Sides of al- Mandab: Ethiopian, South-Arabic and Islamic Studies Presented to Oscar Lofgren¨ on His Nineteenth Birthday, 13 May 1988, by Colleagues and Friends, ed. Ulla Ehrensvard¨ et al. (Stockholm: Swedish Research Institute in Istanbul, ). Jan Thiele, “Propagating Mu‘tazilism in the VIth/XIIth Century Zaydiyya: The Role of H. asan al-Ras.s.as¯.,” Arabica  (): –. The following works discuss the rise of Sunn¯ı traditionism in Yemen: Michael Cook, Commanding Right and Forbidding Wrong in Islamic Thought (New York: Cambridge University Press, ), particularly –. Bernard Haykel, Revival and Reform in Islam (New York: Cambridge University Press, ). This is the definitive study of the Qasim¯ ¯ıImamate¯ and of the life of Muh. ammad al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı. Much of the discussion of the Qasim¯ ¯ıImams¯ in this chapter is drawn from Haykel’s work. For a Sunn¯ı model of governance, see al-Maward¯ ¯ı, The Ordinances of Government, translated by Wafaa Wahba (Reading, UK: Garnet, ).

The historical development of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıSh¯ı‘ism is closely tied to the practical problems that faced Imams¯ ascribed lofty and possibly unattainable expectations. These Imams¯ were often hidden from their followers, only to emerge at opportune moments to herald the creation of new states. The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıdoctrineoftheImamate¯ accorded them absolute political and religious authority and affirmed their privileged connection with God, their access to hidden knowledge, and their spiritual perfection. In contrast to the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a, who transitioned to a scholar-centered model of leadership after the disappearance of their last Imam,¯ the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıSh¯ı‘a were consistently led by Imams¯ bearing the expectations of a final victory over all opponents. The weight of these expectations had an impact on their policy decisions and their articulation of important theological doctrines. Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıSh¯ı‘ism seems to have first materialized in an identifiable form in the late ninth century, when a number of branches appeared simultaneously across the Muslim world working in unison for the establishment of an ‘Alid-led Imamate.¯ The movement split into competing factions as a result of disagreements regarding the identity of the Imam¯ and disputes over basic theology. This chapter is organized around three seminal periods in Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı history. It focuses particularly on the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs, who today constitute a numerical majority of the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community. The first section discusses the group’s origins and early development stretching from the death of Muh. ammad b. Isma‘¯ ¯ıl to the public emergence of the Fat¯.imid Imams¯ in . The second section covers the Fat¯.imid dynasty in Egypt and the Nizar¯ ¯ı state in Iran, between the late ninth and the mid-thirteenth centuries. The third section examines the obscure period from the fall of Alamut in  to the migration of the Aga Khan to India in .

 Smaller groups, such as the Bohras from India who adhere to Musta‘l¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ılism, are mentioned brieﬂy but not discussed at length due to the space constraints of an introductory work.



i. early isma‘¯ ¯ılism The beginnings of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıSh¯ı‘ism date to the disputed succession of Ja‘far  al-S.adiq¯ in . As discussed in Chapter , a group of al-S.adiq’s¯ followers believed that he had appointed his eldest son, Isma‘¯ ¯ıl, as his successor. There is some controversy over whether Isma‘¯ ¯ıl predeceased his father, but most of the sources agree that he was not present at his father’s death. The crisis produced a number of splinter groups, including two that became the progenitors of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıSh¯ı‘ism. The Mubarak¯ ¯ıs, the most important of these groups in the context of the present study, affirmed the death of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl before that of his father and traced the Imamate¯ through Isma‘¯ ¯ıl’s son Muh. ammad. According to the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ısources,Muh. ammad b. Isma‘¯ ¯ıl migratedfromMedinatoKhuzist¯ an¯ in southwestern Iran, where he died around . This precipitated a second schism. The overwhelming majority of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs denied Muh. ammad b. Isma‘¯ ¯ıl’s death and awaited his return as the Mahd¯ı. A small minority accepted his death and located the Imamate¯ among his descendants. Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı history between  and  is shrouded in uncertainty. There are few historical sources for the period, and later Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı scholars readily acknowledge the lack of information. It seems that most Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs antici- pated the return of the Mahd¯ı(i.e.,Muh. ammad b. Isma‘¯ ¯ıl), whom they viewed as the culmination of seven cycles of prophetic history. Much of this theological framework was detailed in Chapter .RecallthatMuh. ammad b. Isma‘¯ ¯ıl was considered the seal of the seventh and final era that had begun with the Prophet Muh. ammad. Each historical cycle was initiated by a prophet (referred to as a nat¯.iq, “enunciator”), who brought a revealed law, and an executor (referred to as a was¯.¯ı) who explained the inner meaning of that law. The executor was followed by seven Imams,¯ the last of which abrogated the law, rose to the rank of prophet, and presented a new religious law. As the final Imam¯ of the last revelatory cycle, Muh. ammad b. Isma‘¯ ¯ıl held a special place as the Mahd¯ıandtheQa’im¯ (see Chapter ). Instead of presenting a new law, he would reveal the greater truth (h. aqa’iq¯ ) embedded in all past revelation. Such a theological framework did not permit an extension of the Imamate¯ to Muh. ammad b. Isma‘¯ ¯ıl’s descendants.

 This section draws primarily on Farhad Daftary’s A Short History of the Ismailis, –,andIsmailis in Medieval Muslim Societies, –.  As mentioned in Chapter , this is the position of all surviving Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı groups, but it ﬁnds little support in the earliest sources.

This soteriological vision can be explained in terms of descending and ascending scales or paths with their related hierarchies. The descending scale traces creation from God’s command through an emanational hierarchy, to the world of material reality and the genesis of man. As a counterpart, the ascending scale maps the rise of man’s soul to the higher, spiritual world in quest of salvation. The doctrine of salvation, thus, forms the necessary counterpart to the cosmological doctrine in the metaphysical system of al-Sijistan¯ ¯ı, as in the case of the other Ismaili theologian-philosophers of the “Iranian school.”

While Daftary’s comments draw on the cosmological writings of al- Sijistan¯ ¯ı, they also convey the broad tenor of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı writings on creation and the importance of the Imams¯ for human salvation. In spite of differences regarding the mechanisms of creation, most Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs agreed that true knowledge of God was accessible only through the Imams.¯ The reemergence of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıSh¯ı‘ism in the late ninth century coincided with the occultation crisis in Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. As discussed in Chapters  and ,theTwelverSh¯ı‘a experienced the disappearance of their twelfth Imam¯ in . The resulting confusion and skepticism fueled the conversion of many Twelvers to either Zayd¯ıorIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıSh¯ı‘ism.Itwasinthisperiod that Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı missionary efforts ﬁnally bore fruit in Iraq, Iran, and the Arabian Peninsula. Perhaps the most important converts were H. amdan¯

 Daftary, A Short History, .

Qarmat. and his brother in law ‘Abdan,¯ who became the chief Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı agents in Iraq in  or . Converts were also won in southern Iran, Bahrain, and Yemen. According to the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı sources, the community at this time was led by a line of figures given the title of h. ujja who claimed to represent the hidden Imam.¯ These leaders had originated in Khuzist¯ an¯ before settling (after a period of wandering) in the Syrian town of Salamiyya. Over the latter part of the ninth century, Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı agents spread throughout the Muslim world. They catered their messages to local conditions. In Iraq, Syria, and the Arabian Peninsula, they attempted to convert the rural and urban populations by emphasizing the illegitimacy and oppressive nature of the government. By contrast, the Iranian Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs targeted elites by highlighting the gnostic cosmology embedded in Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı theology (as noted earlier). In , the leadership of the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs at Salamiyya passed to ‘Ubayd Allah¯ al-Mahd¯ı. Soon after, written instructions issued to agents began to change, provoking considerable unease. H. amdan¯ Qarmat. sent ‘Abdan¯ to Syria to investigate the situation. ‘Abdan¯ found that ‘Ubayd Allah¯ now claimed the Imamate¯ for himself. This change met significant opposition throughout the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community. In the ensuing conflict, ‘Abdan¯ was murdered by an agent who remained loyal to the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ılead- ership at Salamiyya, and H. amdan¯ disappeared after ordering his followers to suspend their activities. Beginning in ,theIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community was divided between (i) Fat¯.imid Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs (described in greater detail later in the chapter), who followed ‘Ubayd Allah¯ al-Mahd¯ı and his progeny as Imams,¯ and (b) Qarmat.¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs, who still awaited the return of Muh. ammad b. Isma‘¯ ¯ıl. The Qarmat.¯ı position was dominant in the Arabian Peninsula and parts of Iraq. It grew particularly powerful in the tenth century, after which it fell into a steady decline. Beyond impeding the eastward progress of the Fat¯.imids, the Qarmat.¯ıs do not figure prominently in the remainder of this chapter. ‘Ubayd Allah¯ al-Mahd¯ı reinterpreted the historical experience of the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community in the ninth century. He argued that the leaders of the movement had always been Imams¯ but had kept their identities hidden out of fear. In time, this dissimulation (taqiyya) was so successful that a majority of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs had come to believe that the Imams¯ were only deputies of the hidden Imam.¯ ‘Ubayd Allah¯ claimed that the name Muh. ammad b. Isma‘¯ ¯ıl did not refer to the actual grandson of al-S.adiq.¯ It was a code name adopted

 Some scholars have argued that the failure of the Fat¯.imid state to displace the ‘Abbasid¯ caliphs stemmed from staunch Qarmat.¯ı opposition.

ii. the fat¯ . imid and nizar¯ ¯ı states

A. The Fat¯.imid Empire Many Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı agents remained loyal to ‘Ubayd Allah¯ al-Mahd¯ı and continued to operate throughout the Muslim world. In Syria, Zikrawayh b. Mihrawayh, successfully converted Syrian Bedouin tribes and launched a rebellion in . According to later Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı sources, the uprising was not authorized by the Imam¯ and alerted the ‘Abbasids¯ to the dangers posed by a newly resurgent Isma‘¯ ¯ılism. These events prompted ‘Ubayd Allah¯ al-Mahd¯ı to flee his residence in Salamiyya and head west to Egypt and North Africa. He eventually settled in (or was perhaps confined to) the town of Sijilmasa¯ in southeastern Morocco in . The leading Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı agent in North Africa was Abu‘AbdAll¯ ah¯ al-Sh¯ı‘¯ı, who concentrated his efforts on the Kutama¯ Berbers of eastern Algeria. He gradually converted the large tribal confederation and organized a rebellion against the Aghlabid dynasty in Tunisia. The fall of the Aghlabid capital of Raqqada¯ in  left Abu‘AbdAll¯ ah¯ al-Sh¯ı‘¯ı in effective control of Ifr¯ıqiya (an area covering present-day Tunisia and eastern Algeria). Over the next year, he consolidated power and instituted a number of distinctive Sh¯ı‘¯ı practices, such as naming the family of the Prophet in the Friday sermon. He also altered the official coinage to include an allusion to the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı Imam.¯ Eight months after the fall of Raqqada,¯ the Kutama¯ Berbers captured Sijilmasa,¯ and ‘Ubayd Allah¯ al-Mahd¯ı was formally acknowledged as the first Imam¯ of the Fat¯.imid dynasty. The first four Fat¯.imid Imams¯ (see Table .) were preoccupied with maintaining their position in North Africa, a region fractured by competing political and religious forces. The Fat¯.imid Imam¯ who first secured the dynasty’s standing in the region was al-Mu‘izz (r. –). He assumed many of the duties most closely associated with the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıImamate,¯

 This section draws on Farhad Daftary’s A Short History of the Ismailis, –,andIsmailis in Medieval Muslim Societies, –.

Table . The Fat¯.imid Dynasty (909–1171)

In North Africa: . al-Mahd¯ı(r.–) .al-Qa’im¯ (r. –) .al-Mans.ur¯ (r. –) . al-Mu‘izz (r. –)[HemovedtoCairoin.] In Egypt: .al-‘Az¯ız (r. –) .al-H. akim¯ (r. –) The Druze split from the Fat¯.imids following al-H. akim’s¯ death/disappearance. .al-Z. ahir¯ (r. –) .al-Mustans.ir (r. –) The Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs split from the Fat¯.imids after al-Mustans.ir’s death. The Musta‘l¯ı Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs remained loyal to the Fat¯.imid Imams¯ . .al-Musta‘l¯ı(r.–) .al-Amir¯ (r. –) The T. ayyib¯ı Musta‘l¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs split from the Fat¯.imids after al-Amir’s¯ death. They affirmed the Imamate¯ of al-T. ayyib Abual-Q¯ asim¯ who had gone into occultation. The H. afiz¯ .¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs remained loyal to the Fat¯.imid Imams.¯ .al-H. afiz¯ . (r. – [regent] and – [Imam])¯ .al-Z. afir¯ (r. –) .al-Fa’iz¯ (r. –) ¯ .al-‘Ad. id (r. –)

including the direct supervision of missionary activities and the articulation of a formal legal code. He was aided by the scholar al-Qad¯ .¯ıal-Nu‘man,¯ whose writings provide a rare glimpse into Fat¯.imid Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı law, which came to resemble Twelver jurisprudence largely through its reliance on Twelver traditions. Al-Mu‘izz also reached out to Qarmat.¯ı communities, offering some doctrinal concessions in an effort to win back their allegiance. These efforts were modestly successful in Iran but failed to have much impact in the Arabian Peninsula and Iraq. The primary challenge facing the Fat¯.imid Imams¯ involved the lofty expectations of their followers. The Imams¯ were expected to sweep away the ‘Abbasids¯ in Baghdad and ﬁnally establish the rule of the family of the Prophet throughout the Muslim world. This required an eastward expansion beginning with Egypt, a region ruled by the weak Ikhsh¯ıdid dynasty. The conquest of Egypt was delegated to Jawhar, a military commander of Slavic origins, who captured Fust.at¯. (the Ikhsh¯ıdid capital) in  with the help of a local population eager for a restoration of public order. Over the

next four years, Jawhar consolidated Fat¯.imid control and supervised the construction of a new capital north of Fust.at¯. that he called Cairo (Qahira¯ ). The city included a royal palace and a central mosque that was named al- Azhar. Jawhar’s attempts at capturing territory in Syria were less successful, as the Fat¯.imid army was defeated by a coalition of enemies that included the Qarmat.¯ıs. In , al-Mu‘izz left a deputy in charge of Ifr¯ıqiya and set off for Cairo accompanied by his family and the coffins of his predecessors. The subsequent history of the Fat¯.imid dynasty centers on Egypt, as North Africa quickly fell outside the orbit of its control. The Fat¯.imids eventually expanded into Syria and seized control of the pilgrimage routes to Mecca and Medina, but they remained primarily an Egyptian dynasty. Further Fat¯.imid ambitions were stymied by the stubborn opposition of a number of eastern powers, including the Qarmat.¯ıs. After al- H. akim,¯ the dynasty began a gradual decline, culminating in the assumption of power by military men such as Badr al-Jamal¯ ¯ı(d.)andhissonal- Afd.al (d. ). There were two important schisms in the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community during this period. The first involved the succession to al-Mustans.ir, in which the designated successor, Nizar,¯ was bypassed in favor of al-Musta‘l¯ı, the preferred candidate of the ruling general, al-Afd.al. Nizar¯ was killed after a brief rebellion in Alexandria in ,butmanyIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs continued to trace the Imamate¯ through his bloodline (known as Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs). The majority of the Fat¯.imid establishment in Egypt accepted al-Musta‘l¯ıand were subsequently known as Musta‘l¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs. They experienced a second schism after the death of al-Amir,¯ with one group affirming the Imamate¯ of his son al-T. ayyib(knownasT. ayyib¯ıMusta‘l¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs) and another accepting his cousin al-H. afiz¯ . (known as H. afiz¯ .¯ı Musta‘l¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs). The latter actually held power in Cairo but disappeared after the fall of the dynasty in . The most significant of these splinter groups were the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs, who are discussed in greater detail later in the chapter. The Fat¯.imid state was administered by a centralized bureaucracy headed by the Imam¯ and his chief minister (waz¯ır). Individual departments or ministries (d¯ıwan¯ s) conducted the land survey, collected taxes, managed the military, produced official documents, and supervised legal affairs. The system was characterized by strict hierarchies that were apparent in public ceremonies; special insignia and physical distance from the Imam¯ reflected an official’s rank. The Fat¯.imid military was composed of multiple ethnic groups that competed for money and influence. The army’s original core of Berber tribesmen was supplemented by slave soldiers of Slavic, Turkish, and Nubian background. The Imams¯ would often play these

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:03:33, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.013  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam contingents against each other to prevent the dominance of any single group. The bureaucratic and military structures had certain distinctively Egyptian idiosyncrasies, but they bore a close overall resemblance to those of the ‘Abbasids¯ in Baghdad. For a majority of the predominantly Sunn¯ı population, the Fat¯.imid Imam¯ played a role virtually identical to that of the ‘Abbasid¯ caliph. The religious policies of the Fat¯.imids combined a general acceptance of the Sunnism of their subjects with an aggressive missionary network in distant non-Fat¯.imid regions. The Fat¯.imids never attempted a wide-scale conversion operation similar to that of the Safavids in Iran (see Chapter ). They instructed judges to utilize Sh¯ı‘¯ı legal principles, but they did not require the actual adoption of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıSh¯ı‘¯ı beliefs. The legal works of al- Qad¯ .¯ıal-Nu‘man¯ were publicly recited in order to spread knowledge about Sh¯ı‘¯ı law to Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs and non-Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs alike. The Fat¯.imids also held lectures and provided instruction designed specifically for Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı initiates. In these “wisdom sessions” (majalis¯ al-h. ikma), which were directed and approved by the Imam,¯ believers were given knowledge of the inner truths (bat¯.in) necessary for salvation according to Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı theology. The sessions were highly specialized and catered to individual groups ranging from courtiers and high-ranking officials to palace staff. The Fat¯.imid Imams¯ maintained a well-structured and centralized missionary network (da‘wa) that stretched from Yemen to India. It was led by the chief agent (da‘¯ ¯ı), who was charged with basic administration and appointed local agents in both Fat¯.imid and non-Fat¯.imid territories. Little else is known about the duties of this office, presumably because agents exercised considerable local autonomy. The structure of the international da‘wa network was complex. Regions outside Fat¯.imid control were divided into twelve “islands” (sing. jaz¯ıra,pl.jaza’ir¯ ) headed by high-ranking officials given the title of h. ujja (although other variants are also noted). The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı sources list a multitude of additional offices without explaining their responsibilities. The network’s primary function appears to have been educational, with agents introducing new converts to the tenets of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı Sh¯ı‘ism. It is difficult to know whether this structure was a theoretical construct or was actualized throughout the Muslim world. The discrepancy between internal and external Fat¯.imid religious policies merits some additional thought. Why were the Imams¯ so uninterested in converting their own population but eager to win followers in areas such as Yemen and Iran? The answer to this question speaks to the broader implications of the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı (and Twelver) doctrine of the Imamate.¯ In addition to inerrancy, the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs emphasize the Imam’s¯ knowledge of

B. The Nizar¯ ¯ı State Fat¯.imid agents had considerable success in Iraq (with the ‘Uqaylid dynasty) and Yemen (with the Sulayhid dynasty). It was in Iran, however, that they achieved their most enduring results. The primary force behind the Isma’¯ ¯ıl¯ı successes in the region was H. asan-i S.abbah¯ . (d. ), who was born into aTwelverSh¯ı‘¯ı family in Qum in the s. The family eventually moved to Rayy, where H. asan was exposed to Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı ideas and initiated into the movement. He quickly rose in the ranks of the da‘wa.In,H. asan

 This phenomenon is best documented in Paula Sanders’s Ritual, Politics, and the City in Fat¯.imid Cairo.  This section draws on Farhad Daftary’s A Short History of the Ismailis, –,andIsmailis in Medieval Muslim Societies, –.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:03:33, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.013  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam was sent to Cairo for further study and training. Upon his arrival in , he observed that the power of the Fat¯.imid Imam¯ (al-Mustans.ir) was increasingly eclipsed by that of his waz¯ır (Badr al-Jamal¯ ¯ı). H. asan did not have an audience with the Imam¯ or continue his studies. Instead, he spent much of the next three years in Alexandria. The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı sources suggest that H. asan’s disenchantment with the Fat¯.imid establishment in Cairo stemmed from their complicity in Badr al-Jamal¯ ¯ı’s attempts to dispossess al- Mustans.ir’s eldest son and appointed successor, Nizar.¯ As becomes evident later in the chapter, these attempts foreshadowed the succession crisis of .H. asan-i S.abbah¯ . was ultimately expelled from Egypt and returned to Iran in . Over the next nine years, H. asan worked tirelessly for the da‘wa, focusing his efforts on the northern Iranian region of Daylam. This mountainous area was known for its historical connection to Zayd¯ıSh¯ı‘ism but was also home to a small Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community. Daftary suggests that H. asan-i S.abbah¯ . decided quite early to embark on a new strategy that involved the capture of mountain fortresses to serve as the backbone for a network of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı communities. At the heart of his plan was Alamut, an inaccessible castle that sat on a high mountain cliff in the Rudb¯ ar¯ region of Daylam. According to the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ısources,H. asan inﬁltrated the fortress disguised as a schoolteacher and quickly converted its garrison. He seized control of Alamut in , an event that marked the start of the Nizar¯ ¯ı state and fueled Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı revolts throughout northern Iran. The next few years saw the expansion of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı control to other mountain fortresses and into Quhist¯ an¯ (in southern Khuras¯ an).¯ By the late sorearlys, H. asan was in charge of a large Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community spread across much of northern Iran. He seems to have acted with considerable autonomy with little direction from the Fat¯.imid leadership in Cairo. The success of the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı da‘wa in this period is often attributed to a national Iranian resurgence against the Turkish Seljuq dynasty that controlled most of Iran and Iraq at the time. This is particularly evident in Nizar¯ ¯ı religious literature, which was written exclusively in Persian. The unprecedented shift from Arabic to Persian constituted a clear and dramatic break from the past. In addition, the leaders of the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı movement (below H. asan) were Iranian locals, who rallied opposition by highlighting perceived Turkish (Seljuq) exploitation. Finally, it is noteworthy that many of the areas that came under Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı control in the twelfth century were isolated agricultural regions. The locals here buckled

 Daftary, Medieval, –.

As H. ujjas of the Imam:¯ .H. asan-i S.abbah¯ . (r. –) .Kiya¯ Buzurg-Umm¯ıd (r. –) .Muh. ammad b. Buzurg-Umm¯ıd (r. –) As Imams:¯ .H. asan ‘ala¯ dhikrihi’l-salam¯ (r. –) [He proclaimed the qiyama¯ in .] .Nur¯ al-D¯ın Muh. ammad (r. –) .Jalal¯ al-D¯ın H. asan (r. –) [He initiated a reconciliation with Sunnism.] .‘Ala’¯ al-D¯ın Muh. ammad (r. –) . Rukn al-D¯ın Khurshah¯ (r. –) Rukn al-D¯ın Khurshah¯ surrendered to the Mongols and was later executed in Mongolia.

under a Seljuq taxation system that ignored their long-term well-being in favor of immediate profits. Although a resurgence in Iranian nationalist sentiment does not fully explain the success of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı missionary efforts, it certainly contributed to their overall effectiveness. The final break between the Fat¯.imid Imamate¯ and the Iranian Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community occurred in , when al-Mustans.ir died in Cairo. As discussed earlier, a controversy erupted as to the identity of his legitimate successor, with al-Afd.al, the primary power broker in Cairo at the time, deposing Nizar,¯ al-Mustans.ir’s eldest son and designated heir, in favor of his younger (and more pliable) brother al-Musta‘l¯ı. Nizar¯ then led a failed revolt from Alexandria and was executed in .TheFat¯.imid Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı establishment in Egypt accepted al-Musta‘l¯ı as the legitimate Imam.¯ H. asan-i S.abbah¯ . and the Iranian Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs, however, continued to support Nizar’s¯ rights and argued that the Imamate¯ had entered into a new period of concealment. They also claimed that a previously unknown son of Nizar¯ (now the legitimate Imam)¯ had been transported to Alamut. While the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs awaited the return of a visible Imam,¯ H. asan and his immediate successors assumed a role similar to that of the h. ujjas in the eighth and ninth centuries (see Table .). The primary military strategy of the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs involved assassi- nation. Specifically, they were known for sending agents to infiltrate the inner circle of their enemies and then assassinate high-profile targets. This tactic was necessitated by the community’s military weakness compared with the Seljuqs and other regional powers. In medieval European writings, the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs were called “the Assassins,” and an elaborate myth was developed that featured brainwashed initiates and the use of

H. asan and the Declaration of the Qiyama¯ Through the early and mid-twelfth century, the leadership of the Nizar¯ ¯ı movement remained in the hands of the master of Alamut, who functioned as the representative (h. ujja) of the concealed Imam.¯ The situation changed in ,whenH. asan ‘ala¯ dhikrihi’l-salam,¯ the fourth ruler at Alamut, claimed the Imamate¯ for himself. In contradiction to the widespread belief that he was the son of Muh. ammad b. Buzurg-Umm¯ıd, H. asan asserted direct descent from Nizar.¯ This claim was ultimately accepted by the larger Nizar¯ ¯ı community, signaling the end of seventy years of concealment. H. asan’s teachings as Imam¯ centered on his proclamation of the qiyama¯ (resurrection) in . This term was generally reserved for the end times when the dead would be raised and judged by God, the outward religious law would cease to matter, and the inner truth of religion would be revealed to all of humanity. H. asan interpreted this eschatological event symbolically, declaring that the community was freed from the burdens of Islamic law

 Daftary, Medieval, .

Jalal¯ al-D¯ın H. asan and the Turn toward Sunnism The political dynamic in Iran and Syria shifted dramatically in the early thirteenth century. The biggest threat came from the east with the rising power of the Mongols and the collapse of Seljuq authority. The Nizar¯ ¯ı Imams¯ responded by forging closer ties with Sunn¯ı states while attempting to consolidate (or even expand) their territorial control. This process required an abandonment of the community’s isolation and contributed perhaps to the public repudiation of the qiyama¯ by Jalal¯ al-D¯ın H. asan, the third in the Nizar¯ ¯ı line of Imams.¯ The community was now instructed to observe the outward meaning of the religious law in accordance with Sunn¯ı jurisprudence. Jalal¯ al-D¯ın H. asan facilitated this process by inviting Sunn¯ı (Shaﬁ‘¯ ¯ı) jurists into Nizar¯ ¯ı territories to provide legal instruction. Jalal¯ al-D¯ın H. asan’s adoption of Sunn¯ı law was a dramatic break with the past.EvenintheearlyFat¯.imid period, before the systematic development of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı jurisprudence, the Imams¯ had implemented a legal system that drew on Sh¯ı‘¯ı principles. Jalal¯ al-D¯ın H. asan, however, went so far as to seek (and receive) the endorsement of the ‘Abbasid¯ caliph in Baghdad. This was

 Daftary, A Short History, .

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:03:33, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.013  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam intended to legitimize the community’s outreach to the Sunn¯ı world and to facilitate truces between the Nizar¯ ¯ıs and Sunn¯ı states in Syria and Iran. As the Mongol threat grew, Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı strongholds provided refuge for Sunn¯ıs fleeing from Khuras¯ an¯ and other parts of eastern Iran. The rapprochement with Sunnism alleviated pressure on the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs in the short term, but it could not prevent their collapse in the face of Mongol military power in the sands. It appears that Jalal¯ al-D¯ın H. asan’s reorientation of Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ılism met little internal opposition. This was likely a consequence of the doctrine of ta‘l¯ım, in which each Imam¯ had absolute autonomous authority to define belief for the community at large. The Imam’s¯ actions were beyond reproach and could differ wholly from those of his predecessors. A number of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı scholars did try to make sense of the change, arguing that an Imam¯ could shift the community between states of qiyama¯ (when the inner truth of revelation was manifest) and satr (when the truth was concealed and adherents practiced taqiyya). Jalal¯ al-D¯ın H. asan’s embrace of Sunn¯ı jurisprudence was thus seen as an act of dissimulation necessary for the security of the Nizar¯ ¯ı community of the time. A new Imam¯ might reestablish the qiyama¯ in the manner of H. asan ‘ala¯ dhikrihi’l-salam.¯ These transient shifts would culminate with the final qiyama¯ , the actual physical resurrection marking the end of the seventh and final era of human history. This framework resolved apparent contradictions in the policies of Nizar¯ ¯ı Imams¯ while reinforcing their individual interpretive authority. The Nizar¯ ¯ı emphasis on ta‘l¯ım solved many of the problems associated with expectations about the Imam.¯ The Imam¯ was not required to prove his claim in any way. His actions and decisions were beyond scrutiny and constituted the only means for attaining salvation. A similar ethos had pervaded the Twelver doctrine of the Imamate,¯ but the Twelver Imams¯ were continually questioned by their followers and asked to explain deviations from previous rulings. The assumption was that a single ruling was correct so that apparent contradictions required justification. Twelver jurists invoked the concept of taqiyya to avoid the appearance of differences between the Imams.¯ The Fat¯.imids did not address this issue directly; rather, they controlled access to the Imam¯ to avoid such situations and sent their missionaries to distant regions. By contrast, the Nizar¯ ¯ıImam¯ exercised ultimate authority in his own time. His opinions could not be evaluated by any other figure. The decisions of consecutive Imams¯ might directly contradict each other, but both were considered correct for their time. The Nizar¯ ¯ıImam¯ had access to a special religious knowledge that lay outside the understanding of ordinary believers.

iii. from the fall of alamut to the rise of the aga khan The history of the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs after  is obscure. The most important contemporaneous source, the history of al-Juwayn¯ı(d.), claims that the Mongols effectively wiped out the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community in northern Iran. Recent scholarship, however, has shown that Nizar¯ ¯ı communities survived despite regular periods of persecution. Alamut and its surrounding areas remained particularly important, as evidenced by multiple efforts to reclaim the fortress in the name of the Imam.¯ Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs continued to reside in parts of northern Iran (e.g., Quhistan)¯ and Syria. Earlier missionary efforts had also established Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı communities in India from the coastal regions of Gujarat to the Himalayan regions of the north. Although the survival of the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs is clear from the historical record, a greater degree of ambiguity surrounds the fate of the Imamate¯ after the death of Rukn al-D¯ın Khurshah.¯ According to modern Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı sources, the lineage of the current Imam¯ (Aga Khan IV) runs back to ‘Al¯ı through a chain of forty-eight predecessors. The most controversial links in this genealogy cover a period of roughly five hundred years from the mid-thirteenth to the mid-eighteenth century. The historical narrative that follows is based primarily on Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı accounts and includes a significant amount of conjecture. This does not mean that the narrative is fictional, but it is difficult to verify with any degree of certainty. It should be approached with a degree of caution.

 This section draws on Farhad Daftary’s The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs, –, and Shaﬁque Virani’s The Ismailis in theMiddleAges.

The new period of concealment begins with the death of Rukn al-D¯ın Khurshah.¯ . Shams al-D¯ın Muh. ammad (r. –) .Qasim¯ Shah¯ (r. –?) The Imamate¯ of Islam¯ Shah¯ marks the start of the Anjudan¯ period. .Islam¯ Shah¯ (r. ?) .Muh. ammad b. Islam¯ Shah¯ (r. ?) .Mustans.ir bi’llah¯ II (r. ?–) .Nur¯ al-D¯ın AbuDharr‘Al¯ ¯ı(r.–?) .Murad¯ M¯ırza(r.?–¯ ) .Khal¯ıl Allah¯ I (r. –) .Nur¯ al-D¯ın Nuh¯ . al-Dahr ‘Al¯ı(r.–) .Khal¯ıl Allah¯ II (r. –) The Anjudan¯ period ends when Imam¯ Shah¯ Nizar¯ moves from Anjudan¯ to Kahak. .Shah¯ Nizar¯ II (r. –) . Sayyid ‘Al¯ı(r.–?) .H. asan ‘Al¯ı(r.?) . Sayyid Ja‘far Qasim¯ ‘Al¯ı(r.?) .Baqir¯ Shah¯ AbuH¯ . asan ‘Al¯ı(r.?–) The Imamate¯ of Khal¯ıl Allah¯ III marks the ﬁrst veriﬁable emergence of Nizar¯ ¯ı Isma‘¯ ¯ılism from a state of concealment. .Khal¯ıl Allah¯ III (r. –) Aga Khan I transferred the seat of the Imamate¯ to Bombay. . Aga Khan I H. asan ‘Al¯ıShah¯ (r. –) . Aga Khan II Aq¯ a‘Al¯ ¯ıShah¯ (r. –) . Aga Khan III Sult.an¯ Muh. ammad Shah¯ (r. –) . Aga Khan IV Shah¯ Kar¯ım H. usayn¯ı(r.–present)

In The Ismailis in the Middle Ages, Shafique Virani examines the Nizar¯ ¯ı Imamate¯ from the thirteenth to the fifteenth century (see Table .). Much of his work involves a painstaking reconstruction of genealogical connections based on scant evidence. Virani pieces together obscure references and allusions into a tenable historical narrative that he supplements with a careful discussion of key Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı theological doctrines. More important, he provides a basis for Nizar¯ ¯ı lineal claims, tracing the Imamate¯ through Shams al-D¯ın Muh. ammad (d. ), a son of Rukn al-D¯ın Khurshah,¯ who spent much of his life in Tabriz (in Iranian Azerbaijan) but traveled widely in an effort to preserve the unity of the broader Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community. Shams al-D¯ın Muh. ammad’s death produced a split whose exact dynamics remain unclear. The group that survived into the modern period affirmed

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:03:33, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.013 The Weight of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı Expectations  the Imamate¯ of a son or grandson of Shams al-D¯ın who was known as Qasim¯ Shah.¯ In this period, the community embraced the notion of concealment, and the Imam¯ was hidden from public view. Qasim¯ Shah¯ was succeeded by his son, Islam¯ Shah,¯ who initiated the first in a series of geographic reorientations in the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıcommunity.In an attempt perhaps to escape Sunn¯ı centers of power, Islam¯ Shah¯ settled to Anjudan¯ in central Iran, which was home to a large Sh¯ı‘¯ı population. The actual date of this move is difficult to determine with precision, but Nizar¯ ¯ı Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıImams¯ were apparently resident there by the late fifteenth century as attested by the extant tomb of Imam¯ Mustans.ir bi’llah¯ II (d. ), the grandson of Islam¯ Shah.¯ The town remained the seat of the Nizar¯ ¯ıImams¯ for the next two centuries through the Imamate¯ of Khal¯ıl Allah¯ II (d. ), a period often referred to (by the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı sources) as the Anjudan¯ Period or the Post-Alamut Revival. During their time in Anjudan,¯ the Nizar¯ ¯ıImams¯ increasingly presented themselves as heads of a Sufi order with followers in numerous scattered localities. This mode of organization was quite different from the more centralized model of the Alamut state, and distant communities accrued significant autonomy. The modern Nizar¯ ¯ı position holds that this seeming transformation from an Imamate¯ into a Sufi order was an act of precautionary dissimulation (taqiyya) at a time of relentless persecution. Daftary ascribes the shift to the close affinity between Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı and Sufi notions of the esoteric and inner meanings of religious practices and texts. He describes this phenomenon as follows: Nizarism¯ utilized the guise of Sufism, appearing as a Sufi order. ...Forthis purpose, the Nizar¯ ¯ıs readily adopted the master-disciple (murshid-mur¯ıd)terminology and relationship of the Sufis. To the outsiders, the Nizar¯ ¯ı imams appeared as Sufi murshids, shaykhs, p¯ırs, or qut.bs....Similarly,thefollowersof the imams posed as their mur¯ıds, who were guided along the .tar¯ıqa or path to  h. aq¯ıqa by a highly revered spiritual master. In other words, the Nizar¯ ¯ıImams¯ appeared as heads of the Ni‘matallah¯ ¯ıSufi order, outwardly adopting its basic terminology and assuming Sufi names such as Shah¯ Qalandar and Shah¯ Ghar¯ıb in their dealings with outsiders. The Anjudan¯ period witnessed a reinvigoration of Nizar¯ ¯ı missionary activities, particularly in the Indian subcontinent. The most successful of these efforts were ascribed to the family of Pir Shams al-D¯ın (fl. fourteenth century), whose most famous member, Pir S.adr al-D¯ın (d. between

 Daftary, The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs, . For a different perspective, see Virani, The Ismailis, –.  Daftary, The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs, .

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:03:33, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.013  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam  and ), is credited with converting much of the modern Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community in Gujarat and giving them the name Khoja, “derived from the Persian honorific used for people of stature or sages of high achievement.” The leadership of the Khojas remained in the hands of Pirs (a title given to agents entrusted to spread Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ılism), with succession disputes sometimes resulting in schisms. The Nizar¯ ¯ıImams¯ struggled to control these agents who excercised significant autonomy and financial independence. According to the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı sources, the Imams¯ attempted to reinforce their authority by issuing official decrees and circulating correspondence that was translated into local languages. Beginning in the s, there is also evidence that Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı communities in Afghanistan and Iran were channeling significant funds to the Imams.¯ This income was conveyed by official agents and representatives as well as individual adherents who made the journey to Iran explicitly to visit the Imam.¯ This financial connection would prove important three hundred years later when the Aga Khan claimed direct leadership of the Khoja community in India. The primary literary output of the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs in India were the Ginans. These works were a syncretic mix of Hindu and Muslim elements that offered moral and religious instructions intertwined with poetry and legendary historical accounts. They were composed in Gujarati and often sung, as evidenced by some surviving manuscripts that record the appropriate melodies necessary for recitation. The authorship of individual Ginans wasascribedtothePirs.ThelaterNizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı tradition claims that these texts were designed by Pirs to mobilize local beliefs in the interests of conversion. Others have argued that the Ginans embodied a unique religious orientation that sat on the boundary between Hindu and Muslim identity, known as “Satpanth” (lit. True Path). Regardless of their origins, the Ginans reflected the self-image of the Khoja community, which bal- anced an apparent allegiance to an Imam¯ in Iran with the broader cultural practices of Gujarat. Offshoots of Nizar¯ ¯ı communities in the subcontinent possess similar texts, suggesting the centrality of this poetic form in the articulation of local identity. The death of Imam¯ Khal¯ıl Allah¯ II in  signaled the end of the Anjudan¯ period. The new Imam,¯ Shah¯ Nizar¯ II (d. ), moved twenty

 Virani, The Ismailis, .  As discussed in Chapter , one particular Ginan was the key piece of evidence in the legal decision that established the authority of Nizar¯ ¯ıImams¯ in India in the nineteenth century.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:03:33, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.013 The Weight of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı Expectations  miles northeast to the small village of Kahak. A short time later, his great- grandson Imam¯ H. asan ‘Al¯ı (d. mid eighteenth century?) settled in Shahr-i Babak¯ in the northern Iranian province of Kirman.¯ The latter shift was apparently part of an effort to accommodate delegations from India, whose financial contributions continued to grow. There is little information about the activities of the Nizar¯ ¯ıImamsinthisperiod.¯ With the collapse of the Safavid dynasty in the mid-eighteenth century, the Nizar¯ ¯ıImams¯ reemerged on the Iranian political scene. They cultivated close ties with the Zand dynasty (–), culminating in the appointment of Imam¯ Baqir¯ Shah¯ AbuH¯ . asan ‘Al¯ı(d., grandson of Imam¯ H. asan ‘Al¯ı) to the governorship of Kirman.¯ Despite massive political upheaval, he managed to secure the province by raising a personal army. When the Qajars conquered the region in ,thenewImam,¯ Khal¯ıl Allah¯ III (d. ), was allowed to return to Kahak, where he remained for nearly twenty years. The reign of Khal¯ıl Allah¯ III marked the first historically verifiable reemergence of the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıImamate¯ since the fall of Alamut. In , he transferred the Imamate¯ to Yazd in central Iran, a move designed (according to Daftary) to further reinforce his ties with the Nizar¯ ¯ıs of Afghanistan and India. Khal¯ıl Allah¯ III was murdered by a mob in  and succeeded by his thirteen-year-old son H. asan ‘Al¯ıShah.¯ Through his mother’s intervention, he was granted significant land around Qum and married to a daughter of the Qajar ruler Fath. ‘Al¯ıShah¯ (r. –). He was also awarded the title of Aga Khan (subsequently referred to as Aga Khan I). In , the new Qajar ruler Muh. ammad Shah¯ (r. –) appointed Aga Khan I governor of Kirman.¯ He successfully secured the region but was soon removed from office and summoned to court. Rejecting the order, Aga Khan I launched an unsuccessful rebellion in . After spending a year in prison, he was settled in Kahak and ordered to refrain from politics. Within a few years, he was again suspected of sedition and (on the pretext of a journey to Mecca) returned to Yazd, where he organized a second rebellion in . When the Qajar army defeated him in , Aga Khan I fled to Afghanistan, eventually taking residence in the city of Qandahar and establishing close ties with the British. Over the next three years, he utilized his influence in Afghanistan and Sind on behalf of the British in exchange for a large yearly stipend. This was followed by a move to India and unsuccessful efforts to negotiate a return to Iran. By , Aga Khan I had settled in Bombay, which became the new seat of the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı Imamate.¯

iv. living with an imam¯ The central defining feature of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıSh¯ı‘ism, from its roots in the mid- eighth-century succession crisis of al-S.adiq¯ to its reemergence in the nineteenth century under Aga Khan I, is the unquestioned authority of the Imam.¯ Although the Imamate¯ is important to other Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups, they do not have to contend with an inerrant ruling leader endowed with the power to define (or redefine) theological and legal doctrine. Recall that the Zayd¯ı Imam¯ is primarily a scholar-leader whose authority, while dependent on his religious credentials, rests on his ability to seize political power. He is not considered inerrant. The Twelver Imam¯ theoretically possesses the same kind of authority as the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıImam.¯ Since his disappearance in the late ninth century, however, this authority has remained dormant. It is only among the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıSh¯ı‘a that the practical implications of an inerrant Imam¯ are observable over an extended period. The autonomy given to each Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıImam¯ makes it difficult to formulate broad judgments about the doctrinal positions of the larger Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community. The Imam’s¯ access to the hidden inner truth of religious knowledge legitimizes wide variance in Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı beliefs. Thus, there are significant differences between the doctrinal positions ascribed to the Fat¯.imid Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs in North Africa compared with those in Egypt. Even within the Egyptian period, Imams¯ proposed seminal changes intended to win back dissident (Qarmat.¯ı) groups, and agents in Iran and other regions propa- gated idiosyncratic ideas appropriate to local conditions. A similar conception of authority explains the divergent views of the Nizar¯ ¯ıImams.¯ Nizar¯ ¯ı scholars managed to harmonize apparent contradictions into a cohesive system, but this process took considerable time. The Nizar¯ ¯ıImam¯ retained the absolute freedom to define (or alter) the entire theological and legal edifice of his community. Chapter  traces the implications of this flexible notion of authority for the twentieth- and twenty-first-century Imamates¯ of the Aga Khans. The religious policies of the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıImams¯ were partly shaped by the lofty expectations associated with an inerrant ruling Imam.¯ In the case of the Fat¯.imid Empire, the Imams¯ made little effort to convert subjects who

 The T. ayyib¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs (a surviving branch of Musta‘l¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs) contend that their ﬁnal Imam,¯ al-T. ayyib Abu¯ al-Qasim¯ (see Table .), went into occultation. In his absence, the community is led by the “Da‘¯ ¯ı,” who exercises all the powers of the Imam¯ and is appointed through formal designation by his predecessor. This system allows a leader who lacks the lofty qualiﬁcations of an Imam¯ to exercise the full authority of the Imam.¯

suggested readings for further study

There is little secondary literature on early Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı history. The standard reference works are those of Farhad Daftary: Farhad Daftary, The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ). This is the most comprehensive study of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıSh¯ı‘ism beginning with its origins in the eighth century and stretching into the modern period. Farhad Daftary, Ismailis in Medieval Muslim Societies (NewYork:I.B.Tauris, ). Drawing on previous work, Daftary provides a set of topical studies of different historical periods and local Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı communities. Farhad Daftary, ed., Mediaeval Isma‘ili History and Thought (New York: Cambridge University Press, ). This work collects essays from leading scholars of Sh¯ı‘ism on a range of topics related to Isma‘¯ ¯ılism.

The disappearance of the twelfth Imam¯ in  plunged the Twelvers (then Imam¯ ¯ıs) into a prolonged state of crisis. It took generations for the community to arrive at a consensus regarding the number of Imams¯ and the eschatological implications of occultation. This chapter examines the subsequent development of Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism, which culminated in the adoption of a modified Mu‘tazil¯ı theological edifice, the development of a rationalist legal system, and the growth of the authority of scholars. Specifically, it documents three seminal transformations in Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism: (i) the rise of Mu‘tazil¯ı theology and systematic legal reasoning in the aftermath of the Imam’s¯ occultation, (ii) the far-reaching impact of Safavid patronage of Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism in Iran beginning in the sixteenth century, and (iii) the victory of rationalist (us.ul¯ ¯ı) over traditionist (akhbar¯ ¯ı) legal discourse late in the eighteenth century. Although the chapter is organized chronologically, there are places where thematic concerns require a return to the preoccultation period.

i. the implications of occultation Before , the forebears of the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a had a visible and (mostly) accessible Imam¯ who provided guidance on uncertain or ambiguous issues. As detailed in Chapters  and , the Twelvers viewed the Imamate¯ as a necessary consequence of the end of prophethood. The Imam’s¯ interpretations were considered authoritative, and they guaranteed that the Muslim community remained on the proper path. This section examines the devolution of authority in the postoccultation period from an Imam¯ to a class of religious scholars who relied primarily on rational discourse.



A. Theology After the Imam’s¯ occultation, the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a gradually embraced several key Mu‘tazil¯ı theological positions. They first affirmed the foundational Mu‘tazil¯ı idea that the fundamentals of religion were grounded in human reason. They then absorbed a number of central Mu‘tazil¯ı principles. Before turning to these developments, it may be helpful to restate the five core beliefs of the Mu‘tazila as outlined in the introduction to Section  of the book: (i) The principle of divine oneness (tawh. ¯ıd), which holds most of God’s attributes to be metaphorical (ii) The principle of rational divine justice (iii) The principle of the promise and the threat (al-wa‘d wa-l-wa‘¯ıd ), which affirms the eternal punishment of the sinner (iv) The principle of the “intermediate position,” through which a grave sinner is considered morally corrupt ( fasiq¯ ) rather than a believer or a nonbeliever (v) The principle of “enjoining good and forbidding wrong,” which requires an activist engagement with the material world In time, Twelver scholars fully embraced the first two principles, unequivocally rejected the third and fourth, and conditionally adopted the fifth. During the eighth and ninth centuries, the Twelver community’s engagement with theology (kalam¯ ) was limited by the presence of a living and accessible Imam.¯ This does not mean that Twelver scholars completely shunned theological discourse. In fact, a number of figures associated with Ja‘far al-S.adiq¯ participated in theological debates, including, most prominently, Zurara¯ b. A‘yan (d. between  and )andHisham¯ b. al-H. akam (d.  or ). A majority of Twelver scholars, however, refrained from theological speculation in favor of a traditionist approach grounded in the statements of the Imams.¯ Some even condemned theologically minded scholars in severe terms for preferring theological musings to the Imam’s¯ authoritative guidance. There was some basis for this criticism, as Twelver theologians occasionally took positions that appeared to contradict the Imams,¯ particularly on issues such as free will and the nature of God’s attributes. The general ambiguity of the Imams’¯ views provided Twelver theologians a degree of interpretive latitude. They also benefited from statements in which the Imams¯ encouraged their followers to utilize reason and rationality

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:03:49, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.014 Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism and the Problem of the Hidden Imam¯  to defend the community against Mu‘tazil¯ı attacks. For their part, the Mu‘tazila accused the Twelvers of anthropomorphism and determinism and were particularly critical of the Twelver doctrines of bada’¯ (a change in the divine decision based on historical circumstance) and raj‘a (the return of the dead). Twelver theologians of this period held a diversity of views, but they were united in their ultimate deference to the authority of the Imam.¯ Hossein Modarressi notes that although the Imams¯ “pointed out thatrationalargumentisgoodasameansindialectics...nobeliefshould be constructed upon it, because religion is the realm of revelation, not reason.” In other words, rationalism was valuable in polemical arguments, but it remained subservient to the authority of the Imam,¯ especially in matters of belief. In the course of the ninth century, the ‘Abbasids¯ increasingly restricted the Imams’¯ movements and sequestered them from their followers. These pressures culminated in the forced transfer of the tenth and eleventh Imams¯ to the ‘Abbasid¯ capital of Samarra and the disappearance of the twelfth Imam¯ in . At the time of the occultation, a majority of the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a were traditionists, relying exclusively on reports that conveyed the words or actions of the Prophet and the Imams.¯ This perspective was particularly strong in the Iranian city of Qum, home to one of the two largest Twelver communities of the time. Theological discourse was restricted to a handful of Twelver scholars in Baghdad. By neutralizing the potential for conﬂict with the Imam,¯ the occultation opened space for Twelver theologians to develop their ideas in conversation with the Mu‘tazila. By the late ninth and early tenth centuries, a few Twelver scholars had clearly embraced Mu‘tazil¯ı ideas. AbuSahlIsm¯ a‘¯ ¯ıl b. ‘Al¯ı(d.)andH. asan b. Mus¯ a(d.¯ ) from the prominent Banu¯ Nawbakht family in Baghdad, for example, afﬁrmed Mu‘tazil¯ı positions regarding God’s attributes, divine justice, and free will. They continued, however, to reject Mu‘tazil¯ı principles that directly contradicted the Twelver doctrine of the Imamate,¯ particularly the denial of infallibility and the belief in the unconditional punishment of the sinner. Ibn Qiba (d. before ), a Mu‘tazil¯ı theologian who converted to Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism, signalled an even broader appropriation of rationalist theology. His conception of the Twelver Imamate¯ included

 The animosity between the Mu‘tazila and Twelver theologians in the eighth century is well documented. See Modarressi, Crisis, – and Madelung, “Imamism,” –.  Modarressi, Crisis, .  Madelung, “Imamism,” –.  This latter belief conﬂicted with the Twelver view that the Imams¯ would intercede on behalf of their followers on the Day of Judgment.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:03:49, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.014  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam (i) an emphasis on knowledge and piety over lineage, (ii) a stress on the need for clear designation (nas..s), (iii) a reduction in excessive claims about the Imam’s¯ knowledge, and (iv) a reluctance to declare the broader Muslim community apostates over the succession to Muh. ammad. Ibn Qiba’s views were particularly influential among later Twelver scholars/theologians with Mu‘tazil¯ı inclinations. Despite the increasing number of Twelver scholars engaged in theological speculation, traditionism remained dominant within Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism in the tenth century. The community’s position at the time is best exemplified by Muh. ammad b. ‘Al¯ıb.Babawayh¯ al-S.aduq¯ (known as Ibn Babawayh)¯ (d.  or ), a leading Twelver authority who settled in Rayy. Ibn Babawayh¯ was generally ambivalent toward theological discourse, but he was willing to engage theologians on those issues for which traditions appeared to provide some measure of guidance and insight. For example, he took Twelver traditions that seemed to support anthropomorphism and determinism and demonstrated the viability of alternative readings. In the process, he minimized differences between the Twelvers and the Mu‘tazila regarding God’s attributes and divine justice. With respect to free will, Ibn Babawayh¯ argued that the acts of human beings were created by God, but he described this creation as “preestimation” as opposed to “production.” This meant that God did not compel an action but rather created the causal means for its performance. At the same time, Ibn Babawayh¯ remained committed to several Twelver notions criticized by the Mu‘tazila, such as intercession, the change in the divine decision based on historical circumstance (bada’¯ ), and the return of the dead (raj‘a). The broad adoption of Mu‘tazil¯ı ideas by Twelver scholars first occurred in the generation after Ibn Babawayh.¯ The key figure in this transition was al-Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd Muh. ammad b. Muh. ammad b. Nu‘man¯ (d.  or ), the head of the Twelver community in Baghdad. Al-Muf¯ıd dismissed traditionist injunctions against theology, citing the example of Imams¯ who had authorized their followers to use reason to defend the community’s central doctrines (described earlier). In some instances, he offered creative reinterpretations of Twelver traditions that supported his theological positions, but in most cases, his opinions were grounded solely in his own independent reasoning.

 Modarressi, Crisis, –.  For Ibn Babawayh’s¯ view as presented later in the chapter, see Madelung, “Imamism,” –.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:03:49, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.014 Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism and the Problem of the Hidden Imam¯  The theological views ascribed to al-Muf¯ıd generally fit the Baghdadi (as opposed to Basran) school of Mu‘tazilism. The subtle differences between these two schools are beyond the scope of this book. In substantive terms, al-Muf¯ıd accepted a majority of Mu‘tazil¯ı arguments regarding God’s unity and attributes (based on Twelver traditions) and divine justice (with most of its consequences). In the case of free will, he rejected Ibn Babawayh’s¯ notion of “preestimation” in favor of the Mu‘tazil¯ı position. Al-Muf¯ıd remained opposed to the Mu‘tazil¯ı belief in the unconditional punishment of the sinner and the intermediate state of the sinner. His primary disagreement with the Mu‘tazila, however, concerned the Imamate,¯ as he strongly affirmed ‘Al¯ı’s exclusive right to succession and the special status of the Imams¯ (e.g., in terms of intercession and miracles). Although he established the basic parameters of the relationship between Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism and Mu‘tazilism, al-Muf¯ıd was primarily interested in deflecting theological criticism. He believed that the fundamentals of religion were not based solely on reason but required revelation and transmitted knowledge. By contrast, his student and successor in Baghdad, al-Shar¯ıf al-Murtad.a(d.¯ ), argued that reason alone could establish the validity  of seminal Twelver beliefs. In terms of doctrine, al-Shar¯ıf al-Murtad.a’s¯ views aligned with the Basran school of Mu‘tazilism. This placed him in opposition to al-Muf¯ıd on a multitude of minor theological points (mostly beyond the scope of this book), but the two agreed on most vital issues. Wilferd Madelung notes that “in such fundamental matters as the imamate, the condemnation of the adversaries of the Imams as infidels, the rejection of the unconditional punishment of the sinner, and the belief in the intercession of the Imams al-Murtad.a¯ followed the doctrine of his first teacher al-Muf¯ıd.” In theological areas where al-Muf¯ıd reinterpreted traditions, al-Shar¯ıf al-Murtad.a¯ offered rational explanations that implicitly (if not explicitly) affirmed central Mu‘tazil¯ı positions. His primary innovation lay in his inversion of the relationship between reason and revelation. For al-Shar¯ıf al-Murtad.a,¯ it was reason, not revelation, that established the basic fundamentals of religion.

 For al-Muf¯ıd’s view as presented later, see Madelung, “Imamism,” –.  In addition to al-Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd, al-Shar¯ıf al-Murtad.a¯ studied with a number of prominent Mu‘tazil¯ı theologians.  Madelung, “Imamism” –.  Madelung cites, for example, al-Shar¯ıf al-Murtad.a’s¯ efforts at interpreting raj‘a as the return of the Imam¯ as opposed to widespread return of the dead as well as his afﬁrmation of the createdness of the Qur’an.¯ See Madelung, “Imamism,” .

Al-Shar¯ıf al-Murtad.a¯ cleared the path for subsequent generations of Twelver scholars to embrace a wide range of Mu‘tazil¯ı doctrines. Madelung summarizes the classical post–eleventh-century Twelver theological position as follows:

Reason alone is the sole source of the fundamentals of faith according to their [i.e., thirteenth- and fourteenth-century Twelver scholars’] teaching. Questions which had been distinctive of early Imamite theology like the bada’¯ ,theraj‘a, and the integrity of the Koran no longer were subject [sic] of discussion. Yet no concession is made to Mu‘tazilism concerning the imamate, the intercession and the rejection of the permanent punishment of the believing sinner. Although this statement perhaps overstates the centrality of reason, it reﬂects the general tenor of Twelver theological discourse of the period. Whereas the Zayd¯ıs adopted almost the entirety of Mu‘tazil¯ı theology, the Twelvers exercised considerable discretion particularly on matters concerning the Imamate.¯ By the eleventh century, they had developed the theological framework described in the ﬁrst part of this book (see Chapters  and ).

B. Law The previous section documented the gradual Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ıembraceof Mu‘tazil¯ı ideas. While permitting a degree of theological speculation, the Imams¯ were the final arbiters of doctrine and belief. Their overrid- ing authority strengthened a traditionist perspective that was skeptical of the utility of human reason. Specifically, traditionist scholars argued that human reason could not produce certain religious knowledge and was therefore susceptible to mistaken judgments. In the presence of a living and accessible Imam,¯ why was there a need for rationalist speculation in either theology or law? The Imam’s¯ occultation in  rendered such an argument irrelevant and allowed Mu‘tazil¯ı theology to pervade Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism over the next two centuries. Twelver jurisprudence experienced a similar turn to rationalism, heralded by many of the same scholars mentioned earlier. Before ,theTwelverImams¯ provided their followers with definitive answers to all legal questions. Traditionist scholars vested legal authority

 Madelung, “Imamism,” .  The subsequent discussion follows the periodization scheme proposed by Modarressi in his seminal study of the development of Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı law. See Modarressi, Introduction, –.  For this period, see Modarressi, Introduction, –.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:03:49, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.014 Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism and the Problem of the Hidden Imam¯  in the words and actions of the Imams.¯ Such guidance was, in fact, the central and most important duty of an Imam.¯ There also existed a rationalist tendency that was supported and often defended by the Imams,¯ especially with regard to theological discourse (described earlier) and jurisprudence. With respect to the latter, Modarressi describes how Imams¯ sometimes offered only general rules and principles, leaving their disciples to formulate speciﬁc judgments. He also suggests that the Imams¯ publicly modeled jurisprudential methods for their followers to emulate. On the basis of this guidance, Twelver jurists developed a rationalist system that consisted of “logical analysis and reasoning within the framework of Qur’anic¯ texts and Tradition.” This system used inference as opposed to the analogical reasoning (qiyas¯ ) characteristic of Sunn¯ı jurisprudence. Thus, Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism in the preoccultation period included two competing groups of legal scholars: a majority that adhered to traditionism and a minority that relied on some rationalist techniques. The controversy between traditionists and rationalists continued in the period stretching from the occultation () to the latter part of the tenth century. The traditionists placed legal authority exclusively in reports from the Prophet and the Imams,¯ whereas the rationalists allowed for inferences that went beyond these reports. A second area of dispute concerned the utility of traditions preserved by a small number of (sometimes only one or two) chains of transmitters. As opposed to traditions with multiple independent chains of transmission, these singular accounts (referred to as akhbar¯ al-ah¯. ad¯ ) were signiﬁcantly more prone to fabrication. Whereas traditionists accepted these as valid legal sources, rationalists rejected them as too uncertain and unreliable.

 Those Twelver scholars who employed rational speculation in law were also partial to theological discourse.  Modarressi, Introduction, .  An inferential argument takes a Qur’anic¯ injunction and ﬂeshes out its broader implications. For example, if the Qur’an¯ forbids uttering a word of annoyance to your parents (Q:–), then you certainly cannot beat them, as this would be far worse.  An analogical argument takes a Qur’anic¯ rule and analogizes it to a new situation through a causal factor. For example, the Qur’an¯ forbids grape wine (Q:–). The reason (causal factor) for this injunction is intoxication. Because beer also intoxicates, it, too, is forbidden.  In later centuries, Twelver jurists would refer to their approach as ijtihad¯ . In the early eighth century, however, this word denoted the use of independent reasoning. For a discussion of the problematic and evolving legal terminology in the early period, see Modarressi, Introduction, –.  For this period, see Modarressi, Introduction, –.  Rationalists also rejected the use of akhbar¯ al-ah¯. ad¯ as evidentiary sources in theological discourse.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:03:49, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.014  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam Traditionist scholars enjoyed a clear advantage over rationalists in this period. Based primarily in Qum, they focused on gathering and preserving reports from the Imams.¯ This project consisted in critical examination of chains of transmission to verify the reliability of a given report. Despite their vulnerability to fabrication, singular traditions were considered superior to human attempts at ascertaining God’s will through reason. The most important traditionist scholars of the time included Muh. ammad b. Ya‘qub¯ al-Kulayn¯ı(d.)andIbnBabawayh¯ (mentioned earlier). The rationalist tendency in this period was represented primarily by Ibn Ab¯ı‘Aq¯ıl (d. early tenth century) and Ibn al-Junayd (d. mid-tenth century). Ibn Ab¯ı‘Aq¯ıl’s use of rational inferences and general principles resembled the practice of the jurists who had surrounded the Imams.¯ He relied on traditions that were universally accepted but dismissed reports if they contradicted a principle deduced from the Qur’an.¯ He also rejected singular traditions as legal sources. A similar form of rational analysis informed the legal writings of Ibn al-Junayd. In contrast to Ibn Ab¯ı‘Aq¯ıl, however, he accepted the validity of singular reports, using them (alongside the Qur’an¯ and widely transmitted traditions) to derive broad legal principles. Twelver legal thought experienced a marked change beginning in the late tenth and early eleventh centuries with the writings of al-Shaykh al-  Muf¯ıd and al-Shar¯ıf al-Murtad.a¯ (both mentioned previously). Based in Baghdad, these jurists successfully challenged traditionist dominance in Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı jurisprudence. Recall that both al-Muf¯ıd and al-Shar¯ıf al- Murtad.a¯ were skilled theologians who facilitated the adoption of some Mu‘tazil¯ı beliefs into Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. In the legal arena, their approach resembled that of Ibn Ab¯ı‘Aq¯ıl, deriving legal inferences from Qur’anic¯ principles and widely transmitted traditions while rejecting the use of singular traditions. They also considered the established practice of the Twelver community to be a valid source of law. The inﬂuence of al-Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd and al-Shar¯ıf al-Murtad.acan-¯ not be overstated. They laid the foundation for the rationalist legal system that ultimately prevailed in Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. Traditionist ideas were

 Modarressi, Introduction, .  Al-Kulayn¯ıwastheauthor-compilerofal-Kaf¯ ¯ı, the most important collection of Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı traditions.  Modarressi identiﬁes a third tendency in this period that neither centered exclusively on traditionism nor utilized a formal rational system of law. He labels this position “The Intermediate School” and describes it as follows: “The school formulated its juridical opinions through the process of extracting speciﬁc precepts from the general principles implied in traditions, or through selection or reconciliation when traditions were contradictory.” See Modarressi, Introduction, .  For more on this period, see Modarressi, Introduction, –.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:03:49, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.014 Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism and the Problem of the Hidden Imam¯  marginalized and never recovered their previous strength. Their students consolidated the rationalist position and developed a distinctively Twelver jurisprudence. Muh. ammad b. H. asan al-T. us¯ ¯ı(d.), for example, formulated a new legal method that retained the rationalist features of al- Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd and al-Shar¯ıf al-Murtad.a¯ while permitting the use of singular traditions. He was also responsible for the introduction of some Sunn¯ı concepts into Twelver legal thought. In a number of works, he even demonstrated the validity of Twelver legal positions, relying exclusively on Sunn¯ı sources or methods. Although some jurists remained suspicious of singular traditions (e.g., Ibn Idr¯ıs), al-T. us¯ ¯ı’s integrative approach prevailed through the fourteenth century. The most important developments in this period involved the systemization of Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ılaw.Al-Muh. aqqiq Ja‘far b. H. asan al-H. ill¯ı (d. ) and his student, Ibn al-Mut.ahhar H. asan b. Yusuf¯ al-‘Allama¯ al- H. ill¯ı(d.), argued that detailed knowledge of the law was a product of ambiguous indicators in the sources. The jurist (mujtahid) used rational methods (ijtihad¯ ) to navigate this doubt, producing rulings that invariably contained a degree of uncertainty. For this reason, they held that the ruling of every jurist on an issue, even if it contradicted those of other jurists on the same issue, was equally valid. The ordinary believer was instructed to follow or imitate a given jurist’s ruling, a process called taql¯ıd. In contrast to early Twelver demands for legal certainty, this new system acknowledged that uncertainty was part and parcel of the law. Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı jurisprudence achieved its classical (or us.ul¯ ¯ı) form with al-Shah¯ıd al-Awwal (d. ), who replaced elements derived from Sunn¯ı legal principles with exclusively Sh¯ı‘¯ı ones. The result was a Twelver jurisprudence that was distinctively Sh¯ı‘¯ıin content, form, and argumentative style.

C. The Devolution of Authority Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism steadily embraced rationalism in both the theological and the legal spheres following the disappearance of the twelfth Imam.¯ Before occultation, the Imam¯ was the ﬁnal arbiter on all issues, even if he did notalwaysexercisethisauthority.SomeImams¯ tolerated a diversity of opinions among their adherents and encouraged debates on theological and legal matters, but this may have stemmed from political concerns. As rivals to the Umayyad and ‘Abbasid¯ dynasties, the Imams¯ were under constant surveillance if not outright persecution. In such an environment, the Imams¯ may have authorized their followers to practice rationalist discourse for practical reasons. Theology provided the community a means

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:03:49, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.014  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam to defend Sh¯ı‘¯ı doctrinal beliefs, whereas rational jurisprudence offered it legal guidance at times when access to the Imams¯ was limited. As long as the Imams¯ remained visible, advocates of traditionism held a clear advantage over proponents of rationalism. Their position was grounded in the idea that any knowledge derived purely from reason was inherently uncertain because the human mind was imperfect. The only source of certain knowledge was God, who communicated this information through the Qur’an¯ and his selected representatives (i.e., the Prophet and the Imams).¯ In the immediate aftermath of the occultation of the twelfth Imam,¯ the traditionists successfully consolidated their advantage. It was broadly assumed that the twelfth Imam¯ would soon return to usher in a new, just sociopolitical order (see Chapter ). In the meantime, authority resided in traditions which preserved the community’s memory of the Imams’¯ words and actions. The dominance of traditionism began to wane in the latter half of the tenth century, largely through the efforts of al-Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd and his students in Baghdad. A number of factors contributed to this change. First, the political landscape of the Muslim world had changed dramatically with theriseofSh¯ı‘¯ı dynasties. Iran and Iraq were ruled by the Buyids¯ (– ), a Daylamite family of Sh¯ı‘¯ı origins, who encouraged the celebration of distinctive Sh¯ı‘¯ı festivals such as ‘¯Id al-Ghad¯ır (see Chapter )and  patronized Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars. Al-Muf¯ıd and al-Shar¯ıf Murtad.ausedB¯ uyid¯ political and financial support to spread their ideas, training students who, over the next few centuries, refined and systematized the use of rationalism in theology and law. A second factor in the victory of rationalism over traditionism may have involved basic pragmatism. The presence of an Imam¯ dispels the need for a self-sustaining system for the production of religious knowledge. When an Imam¯ is no longer present, however, the community requires a means for addressing novel issues. Is coffee permissible? Is abortion murder? How long should a Muslim fast if she lives north of the Arctic Circle where days extend for months? For the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıSh¯ı‘a, the answers to these questions come directly from a reigning Imam¯ who wields absolute authority (see Chapters  and ). For the Twelvers, traditions might have sufficed in the short term. Over time, however, there was an inevitable pull toward rationalist thinking that built on the textual sources but was malleable

 For the Buyids,¯ see Kennedy, The Prophet, – and Mottahedeh, Loyalty.  These rationalist scholars were based in Baghdad, which may have contributed to the growth of their inﬂuence as compared with traditionist scholars, whose strength lay in regions that lacked access to similar sources of patronage.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:03:49, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.014 Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism and the Problem of the Hidden Imam¯  enough to address emerging problems. The drift of Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism toward rationalism was likely a product of this impulse, as scholars ﬁlled the void of the absent Imam.¯ Although the legal authority of the Imam¯ devolved onto the scholars, his political authority remained inaccessible even after the establishment of a Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı dynasty in Iran in the sixteenth century.

ii. sh¯ı‘ism and safavid iran

A. The Founding of the Safavid Empire The rise of the Safavid dynasty (–) in Iran marked an important transition in the history of Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. The Safavids were originally the leaders of a Sufi order based in Ardabil, a city in northwestern Iran near the current border with Azerbaijan. The order was founded by S.af¯ıal- D¯ın (d. ) in the fourteenth century and gradually built up a following of eastern Anatolian Turks (the Qizilbash). The teachings of the early Safavids likely inclined toward Sunnism while maintaining a reverence for the family of the Prophet (i.e., the ‘Alids). The Safavids themselves claimed descent from the seventh Twelver Imam,¯ Mus¯ aal-K¯ az¯.im. The order gained strength and influence through the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries due to the deterioration of political authority in the region. They also benefited from a series of long-lived leaders and a stable hereditary system for succession. The transformation of the Safavids from a Sufi order to a Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı dynasty occurred during the reign of Shah Isma‘¯ ¯ıl I (d. ). Beginning in ,Isma‘¯ ¯ıl I led a series of successful military campaigns with the backing of Qizilbash tribesmen. He was crowned Shah in his capital city of Tabriz in , and, within a decade, his forces had completed the conquest of the entirety of modern-day Iran and Iraq. Safavid expansion continued until ,whenIsma‘¯ ¯ıl was decisively defeated by Ottoman forces at the Battle of Chaldiran. The dynasty survived for the next two hundred years despite a succession of wars with the Ottomans to the west and the Uzbeks to the east. The power of the Safavid state rested on three pillars. The first was the military strength of the Qizilbash tribesmen, whose relationship to the Safavids was that of adherents in a Sufi order to their master. This charismatic bond was tenuous and unstable. It depended on a perception of divine favor bestowed on the head of the order and could be called into question after a political or military setback. Isma‘¯ ¯ıl’s defeat at the hands of the Ottomans in  appears to have unsettled his Qizilbash supporters. Perhaps it was due to the potentially catastrophic consequences of further

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:03:49, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.014  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam military failures that Isma‘¯ ¯ıl never again took to the battlefield at the head of a Safavid army. The second pillar was the Iranian administrative apparatus, which was staffed primarily by Iranian bureaucrats. In their interactions with these local (and predominantly Sunn¯ı) administrative elites, the Safavid rulers filled the traditional role of Persian kings. Throughout the Safavid period, the Qizilbash military and the Iranian administrators competed for political influence and economic favors. The third pillar (and the one of greatest interest for this study) was Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. Soon after Shah Isma‘¯ ¯ıl I came to power, he decided that the official religion of his state would be Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. This decision continues to puzzle scholars to this day. Why would Isma‘¯ ¯ıl choose to impose a form of Sh¯ı‘ism that was practiced by only a small portion of the population of his empire? It is possible that Isma‘¯ ¯ıl was a strong adherent to the faith and chose to perpetuate it regardless of the potential consequences. Another explanation posits that Isma‘¯ ¯ıl and his successors wanted to define the Safavid state in opposition to the Sunn¯ı Ottoman Empire. A third explanation emphasizes the unconventional nature of the connection between the Safavids and their Qizilbash adherents. This relationship was viewed with skepticism by the larger Iranian population and considered by many to verge on deification. The Safavids sought a foundation for their legitimacy that was more familiar to the Iranian populace. Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism provided such a foundation without making any wholesale concessions to Sunn¯ı urban elites. All of these factors likely contributed to Isma‘¯ ¯ıl’s decision to introduce and promote Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. It provided a contrast with Ottoman Sun- nism while appealing to Sh¯ı‘¯ı populations in areas of Anatolia, Azerbaijan, and Armenia. The fact that the twelfth Imam¯ was in occultation was also advantageous in that the Safavid Shahs would not face political challenges from ‘Alid insurgencies. Additionally, the primary centers of Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholarship in this period were in Iraq and Lebanon outside the confines of the Safavid state. If those scholars could be persuaded to migrate to the Safavid empire, they would be foreigners in their new home and wholly dependent on the Safavid Shahs for their social status and political influence. This would enable the Shahs to exert considerably control over the religious establishment.

B. The Impact of Scholarly Migration The Safavid period witnessed dramatic shifts in bureaucratic institutions and power structures in addition to the wholesale conversion of Iran from

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:03:49, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.014 Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism and the Problem of the Hidden Imam¯  Sunnism to Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. A detailed examination of these transformations lies outside the scope of this study. The discussion that follows focuses on perhaps the most important change in Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism during the Safavid period: the scholars’ appropriation of the Imam’s¯ authority. Before the Safavid period, there was a general agreement among Twelver scholars that all political authority was illegitimate during the Imam’s¯ occultation. When he reappeared, the Imam¯ would overthrow the ruling tyrant and establish a just state. In the meantime, the Twelver community held to a quietist stance that contrasted sharply with the activist agenda of the Zayd¯ıs (see Chapters  and ). This position did not entail a complete rejection of political power. As far back as the eighth century, there were examples of individual Twelvers holding key government posts with the blessing of the Imams.¯  The legality of working for the ‘Abbasids¯ was predicated on either (i) being forced to do so out of fear of loss of life and/or livelihood or (ii) being empowered to protect or benefit the Sh¯ı‘¯ıcommu- nity at large. The issue remained controversial after the occultation, with some scholars permitting (or even requiring) the acceptance of important government posts and others rejecting such appointments outright. Those who allowed government employment added the condition that the ruler had to be “just” in enjoining good and forbidding wrong. The Safavid decision to adopt Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism created space for a change in the relationship between Twelver scholars and political power. Shah Isma‘¯ ¯ıl I and his successor, Shah T. ahmasp¯ (d. ), were eager to court Twelver jurists and encouraged them to migrate from Iraq, Bahrain, and Jabal ‘Amil¯ (in modern-day Lebanon) to Iran. The ‘Amil¯ ¯ıs were particularly responsive to the summons given their persecution at the hands of local Ottoman officials. The most important of the ‘Amil¯ ¯ı scholars to settle in the Safavid empire and the one with perhaps the greatest influence on the subsequent development of Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism was al-Muh. aqqiq ‘Al¯ıb. H. usayn al-Karak¯ı(d.). Al-Karak¯ı provided Safavid political claims with significant religious backing. Drawing on previous legal precedents (see the earlier discussion of government posts), he argued that jurists could cooperate with and benefit from a just state even if it lacked the absolute legitimacy of the twelfth Imam.¯ He lauded Isma‘¯ ¯ıl I as a just ruler whose authority stemmed from his patronage of Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. Over the next two centuries, Twelvers scholars were appointed to judicial and administrative posts ranging from prayer leaders and judges to managers of religious foundations. Al-Karak¯ı also allowed scholars to accept financial gifts and other honors from the

 For this issue, see Madelung, “Treatise.”

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:03:49, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.014  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam Safavid Shahs, particularly tax revenues. Twelver jurists had previously considered this income illegitimate and avoided such financial entanglements. This change benefitted al-Karak¯ıdirectlywhenIsma‘¯ ¯ıl I awarded him the revenue of a large area surrounding the city of Najaf in Iraq. Al-Karak¯ı was also instrumental in reopening the question of the obliga- toriness of the congregational Friday prayer. Twelver scholars had long held the view that the duty of performing the Friday prayer was in abeyance until the return of the Imam.¯ This was partly motivated by the prayer’s legitimizing function for the state, as the ruler usually either led the Friday prayer or appointed a subordinate for the duty. Furthermore, the ruler’s name was mentioned in the required sermon that preceded the prayer. Twelver jurists living under Sunn¯ı rulers prohibited the prayer to emphasize the government’s lack of legitimacy. The Safavids were eager to reinstitute it to strengthen their authority among the largely non-Sh¯ı‘¯ı population of early sixteenth-century Iran. Al-Karak¯ı acquiesced to Safavid pressure and permitted the Friday prayer. More importantly, however, he restricted the right to lead the prayer to Twelver jurists, who functioned as representatives of the Imam.¯ In the process, he predicated Safavid legitimacy on the approval of Twelver scholars. In ,ShahT. ahmasp¯ declared al-Karak¯ı the deputy of the Imam¯ and awarded him the title “Seal of the Jurisconsults.” Al-Karak¯ı spent the last decade of his life leading a Safavid push to enforce uniformity in religious law and practice. In this role, he increasingly articulated an expansive understanding of the power of the jurist during the occultation of the Imam.¯ Twelver scholars had long fulfilled the Imam’s¯ functions in law and ritual, but al-Karak¯ı extended their authority into the political sphere. He was opposed in these efforts by many Twelver scholars (especially those from Iraq) who were critical of his close association with the Safavid state. In particular, they rejected his authorization of the Friday prayer and his acceptance of political and financial patronage. By his death in ,al- Karak¯ı had transformed Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars (especially those from Jabal ‘Amil)¯ into a third pillar of Safavid power, with an importance that rivaled the Qizilbash military and the Iranian bureaucracy. The decline of Safavid authority in the seventeenth century presented a significant opportunity for Twelver scholars. The early Safavid state had effectively manipulated and controlled Twelver jurists by emphasizing their position as outsiders. By the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, however, the scholars had largely integrated into Iranian society. In addition to their political role (discussed earlier through al-Karak¯ı), they were increasingly the beneficiaries of endowments (sing. waqf,pl.awqaf¯ ) that provided

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:03:49, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.014 Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism and the Problem of the Hidden Imam¯  financial support in perpetuity. They also acquired significant influence in trade guilds and among merchant networks. This emerging alliance between the religious and merchant classes would prove critical in the twentieth century.

C. Safavid Sh¯ı‘ism The Safavid period signaled an important transformation in Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. In previous centuries, the Twelver community had for the most part lived under the rule of non-Sh¯ı‘¯ı dynasties. Although there were certainly instances of cooperation with the state, the Twelvers considered all political power in the absence of the Imam¯ essentially illegitimate. The community was also subject to persecution and generally maintained a low profile. The rise of the Safavids empowered Twelver jurists in an unprecedented manner. They were able to shape the religious policies of an empire and benefited from the direct patronage of a ruling dynasty that predicated its authority on Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism assumed a more political and activist mode under the Safavid Shahs. In addition to the changes discussed earlier, the Safavid period witnessed the birth of rawzeh˙ commemorations of the martyrdom of H. usayn (see Chapter ). These government-sponsored public renditions of Karbala reinforced the religious legitimacy of the Safavid state through an association with H. usayn. Other developments in the Safavid period included the public cursing and anathematizing of the first three caliphs and the official introduction of a phrase affirming the spiritual and political authority of ‘Al¯ı(wilaya¯ ; see Chapters  and ) into the call to prayer. Such public rituals contributed to the emergence of a newly assertive Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı identity.

iii. the akhbar¯ ¯ı-us. ul¯ ¯ı divide By the late sixteenth century, Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism had experienced two sig- niﬁcant transformations. In the centuries after the Imam’s¯ occultation, it hadembracedalimitedMu‘tazil¯ı theological framework and a rationalist legal methodology. The rise of the Safavids ushered in a second major transformation, as Twelver scholars became intimately involved with political power and articulated an increasingly activist interpretation of Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. A third major shift in Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism involved the resurgence of traditionism in the shrine cities of Iraq in the seventeenth century. This

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:03:49, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.014  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam movement, called Akhbarism,¯ grew largely through the efforts of the Ira- nian scholar Muh. ammad Am¯ın al-Astarab¯ ad¯ ¯ı(d.), who advanced a systematic refutation of rationalist (us.ul¯ ¯ı) legal theory. Specifically, he criticized rationalist jurists for their reliance on farfetched and overcomplicated methods that introduced the possibility of human error into religious law. According to al-Astarab¯ ad¯ ¯ı, certain religious knowledge was exclusively grounded in the textual sources – namely, the Qur’an¯ and traditions from the Prophet (sing. h. ad¯ıth/pl. ah. ad¯ ¯ıth)andtheImams¯ (sing. khabar/pl. akhbar¯ ). The latter (i.e., the akhbar¯ ) were particularly important because they provided contextual explanations of the former (i.e., the Qur’an¯ and the ah. ad¯ ¯ıth). In other words, al-Astarab¯ ad¯ ¯ı believed that “a simple consultation of the Imams’¯ akhbar¯ would provide, if not indubitable knowledge, then certainly ‘conventional knowledge’ (al-‘ilm al-‘ad¯ ¯ı) of God’s commands.” Al-Astarab¯ ad¯ ¯ı’s revival of traditionism (Akhbarism)¯ and critique of rationalism (Us.ulism)¯ proved highly controversial. Those scholars who agreed with his strict reliance on traditions were known as Akhbar¯ ¯ıs. Others, however, felt that al-Astarab¯ ad¯ ¯ı overstated the degree of certainty in his method. First, they argued that traditions were themselves subject to doubt because many possessed singular chains of transmission prone to fabrication. Second, they observed that an Imam¯ may have issued a ruling that did not reflect his actual position as a result of precautionary dissimulation (taqiyya). Finally, they emphasized the uncertainty of the interpretive process required to determine the intent of any tradition. These scholars continued to rely on the rationalist legal theory of previous centuries and were known as Us.ul¯ ¯ıs. The next century witnessed a rapid ascendance of Akhbarism¯ in the Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı world. The reasons for its success are difficult to determine with any degree of exactitude. Akhbarism¯ may have benefited from general unease with the increasing power and status of Us.ul¯ ¯ı jurists in the Safavid state. Their control of legal interpretation had triggered broad opposition as early as the mid-sixteenth century, when “a tendency calling for more freedom in Sh¯ı‘¯ı law began to grow in popularity.” This tendency may have also fueled a sixteenth-century revival in the compilation of traditions. Another explanation cites Safavid patronage as the decisive factor in the growth of Akhbarism.¯  According to this view, the Safavids financed

 Encyclopaedia of Islam, rd ed., s.v. “Akhbariyya¯ and Us.uliyya”¯ (Gleave).  Modarressi, Introduction, .  Abisaab, Converting Persia, .

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:03:49, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.014 Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism and the Problem of the Hidden Imam¯  Akhbar¯ ¯ı scholars in the seventeeth century out of the belief that they could provide a more stable religious foundation for the state’s legitimacy than the Usul¯ ¯ıs. The Shahs may have also been motivated by a desire to stem thegrowingpowerofUs.ul¯ ¯ı scholars in the state structure. Although the reasons for its rise are unclear, Akhbarism¯ remained particularly inﬂuential through the seventeenth and much of the eighteenth centuries. Akhbar¯ ¯ı scholars controlled the shrine cities in Iraq (Karbala and Najaf) and most of the major urban centers in Iran. They also wielded signiﬁcant authority in the Twelver communities of Bahrain and India. Although diminished, Us.ulism¯ persisted in parts of Iraq and Iran, and its foundational texts continued to be studied in most Twelver seminaries. It is also important to note that many Twelver scholars were eclectic, combining  both Akhbar¯ ¯ıandUs.ul¯ ¯ı elements in their legal writings. The decline of Akhbarism¯ is generally dated to the late eighteenth century and ascribed to the jurist Muh. ammad Baqir¯ al-Bihbihan¯ ¯ı(d. or ) and his students. Even before al-Bihbihan¯ ¯ı, there was a growing belief among Twelver jurists that Akhbarism¯ had sown dissent in the community because of its rejection of the possibility of multiple valid opinions on a given legal issue. Other explanations for Akhbar¯ ¯ı decline focus on historical developments and structural weaknesses. The plague of – was particularly devastating for Akhbar¯ ¯ı scholars and created space for Us.ul¯ ¯ıs in the shrine cities of Iraq. The Akhbar¯ ¯ı institutional structure had failed to integrate within the broader Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholarly community to the extent that it could withstand major disruptions such as the plague. The period also saw the rise of rival intellectual traditions (e.g., the Shaykh¯ıs) that challenged central Akhbar¯ ¯ı positions. Finally, al-Bihbihan¯ ¯ı articulated a viable alternative that proved more attractive to many Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars, especially in the post-Safavid period. In line with the Us.ul¯ ¯ı position, al-Bihbihan¯ ¯ı emphasized the importance of rational discourse in the derivation of the law and instructed believers to follow the rulings of jurists as the best approximations of God’s will. This acceptance of “approximation” permitted disagreements and preserved the unity of the larger Twelver community. Al-Bihbihan¯ ¯ı relentlessly attacked the Akhbar¯ ¯ı position, particularly the writings of Yusuf¯ b. Ah. mad al- Bah. ran¯ ¯ı(d.), the most prominent Akhbar¯ ¯ı scholar of the period. After al-Bah. ran¯ ¯ı’s death, al-Bihbihan¯ ¯ı consolidated his position in the seminaries of Iraq and trained a generation of scholars who revived and spread Us.ul¯ ¯ı

 This blurring of intellectual boundaries has led to confusion about the classiﬁcation of some scholars of this period.

legal theory, most notably Ja‘far b. Khid.rKashif¯ al-Ghit.a’¯ (d. )andAbu¯ al-Qasim¯ b. H. asan al-Qumm¯ı(d.). Through the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, Akhbar¯ ¯ı influence declined precipitously in much of the Sh¯ı‘¯ı world, surviving only in Bahrain  and pockets of India. The fate of the Akhbar¯ ¯ıs was sealed when Us.ul¯ ¯ı scholars secured the patronage of the new Qajar rulers of Iran (–). The Us.ul¯ ¯ı victory was accompanied by the emergence of the concept of the marja‘ al-taql¯ıd (source of emulation). According to this idea, each ordinary believer was required to follow the rulings of the most learned jurist of the age. As the primary representative of the Imam¯ in the world, this jurist exercised many of the powers that scholars had acquired during the Safavid period, such as the right to collect and administer religious taxes. The identity of the marja‘ al-taql¯ıd was determined by scholars on the basis of knowledge, seniority, and the ability to cultivate disciples. When there were disagreements among Twelver jurists over the identity of the marja‘ al-taql¯ıd, the office was split between a number of qualified candidates. Each candidate then served as an independent “source of emulation” for those who accepted his authority. In ,Murtaz˙a¯ al-Ans.ar¯ ¯ı(d.) was acknowledged as the first “source of emulation” for the global Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı community. His elevation signaled a shift of the intellectual center of Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism from Isfahan in Iran to Najaf in Iraq. In his legal writings, al-Ans.ar¯ ¯ı justified the use of procedural principles to navigate uncertainties in the law. Roy Mottahedeh’s description of this method is worth quoting at length:

When the jurisconsult faces a question without a sense of the strong likelihood of one solution, then he must determine if the doubt is “primary” and “general,” as is the case in the absence of the discovery of any law supposed to be based on reason or tradition. (No one knows whether the special Friday noon prayer service should be held in the absence of the Twelfth Imam, who has the unquestionable right to lead it or to appoint its leaders.) Alternatively, the jurisconsult may determine that the doubt is “secondary”; that is, we are not in doubt about general principles and truths but are in doubt about something related to the speciﬁc case (did the water splashed on me come from the dog I saw on the roof ?). If the doubt is primary, then the jurisconsult can use the principle of “prudence” if certain conditions are fulﬁlled; if, for example, it is possible to perform all the possible obligations. If it is not possible to do so,

 It is important to note that some aspects of Akhbarism¯ were appropriated by Us.ul¯ ¯ı scholars. See Oxford Encyclopedia of Islam and Law, s.v. “Legal Theory: Modern Shi‘i” (Ali).  This concept was projected back in time to earlier periods in Twelver history, with particularly important ﬁgures anachronistically identiﬁed as “sources of emulation.”

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:03:49, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.014 Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism and the Problem of the Hidden Imam¯  then the principle of “option” applies: One obligation can be chosen instead of another – and so on and so forth, through a host of new clariﬁcations that Ansari introduced into Shiah jurisprudence.

In other words, al-Ans.ar¯ ¯ı created “decision trees” that accounted for uncertainty and doubt through the use of procedural assumptions. This legal approach remains dominant in Twelver jurisprudence in the contemporary period.

iv. from imam¯ to jurist The two central arcs in the development of Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism between the tenth and the twentieth centuries concern (i) the use of reason in the derivation of theological doctrine and religious law and (ii) the changing scope of juristic authority. In the time of the Imams,¯ the Twelver community was guided by leaders who provided deﬁnitive and certain religious knowledge. The institution of the Imamate¯ was predicated on the idea that the Imam¯ guaranteed the proper guidance of the community and held political legitimacy even if he did not wield political power. A great deal of information was preserved in traditions that related the words and actions of the Prophet and the Imams.¯ Rationalist discourse was used in this period to defend the Twelver community against the polemical attacks of its opponents. The Imams¯ also encouraged a degree of rational analysis in the derivation of the law. Ultimately, however, rationalism was subservient to the authority of the Imam,¯ who could always offer a corrective to rampant speculation. The disappearance of the Imam¯ in  initially strengthened the traditionist sentiment in Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı circles. Previously, Twelvers had criticized non-Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars for their use of rationalist legal methods, which allowed imperfect humans a role in interpreting God’s will. Invested in the idea of certainty, the leading Twelver scholars of the late ninth and most of the tenth centuries considered traditions the only legitimate sources of religious knowledge. The writings of al-Shaykh al-Muf¯ıd, however, precipitated a fundamental change in Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism that saw the decline of traditionism and the rise of rationalism. In subsequent centuries, Twelver jurists appropriated many principles of Mu‘tazil¯ı theology and developed a legal system grounded in a rational legal theory that accounted for and acknowledged uncertainty. This shift may have been motivated by the

 Mottahedeh, Mantle, .

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:03:49, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.014  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam community’s need to adapt to societal changes in the prolonged absence of the Imam.¯ By the fourteenth century, Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism had acquired its classical form, which combined a modified Mu‘tazilism with a distinctive, reason-based jurisprudence. Before the sixteenth century, the Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı community was, for the most part, politically quietist in its major (urban) population centers. Some prominent Twelvers held governmental positions under non-Twelver rulers for the benefit or protection of the larger community. There were also isolated cases of religious scholars who represented Twelver interests in negotiations with the state. These were, however, exceptional. Overall, the community avoided interactions with non-Twelver rulers in contrast to the activist agenda of other Sh¯ı‘¯ı groups – most notably, the Zayd¯ıs. The rise of the Safavid dynasty in Iran in  marked a major turning point in Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. The Safavids adopted Twelver beliefs and then spread them in Iran with the help of the Twelver religious establishment. The sixteenth century saw the rise of Twelver jurists to positions of great power in exchange for their tacit endorsement of the Safavid state. Specif- ically, they characterized Safavid rule as a “just” alternative to tyranny in the absence of the Imam.¯ In addition, many Twelver jurists appropriated powers previously reserved for the Imam,¯ most notably the right to collect religious taxes and the right to lead the Friday prayer. Twelver rituals also evolved in the Safavid period with the establishment of the public cursing of the first three caliphs and the growth of elaborate commemorations of the martyrdom of H. usayn. A final notable development in Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism involved the revival of traditionism in the seventeenth century. This new traditionism (Akhbarism)¯ contested the rationalist legal theory (Us.ulism)¯ that had held sway over Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı jurists since the late tenth century. Akhbar¯ ¯ı scholars rejected the uncertainty inherent in Us.ul¯ ¯ı legal discourse and called for a return to the textual sources. In the mid to late eighteenth century, Akhbar¯ ¯ı influence began to wane with the emergence of a new generation of scholars who expanded many of the central tenets of Us.ul¯ ¯ı jurisprudence. Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries embodied many of the changes of the previous millennium. The fundamentals of Sh¯ı‘¯ı belief were predicated on a Mu‘tazil¯ı theological foundation (see Chapters  and ). Twelver jurisprudence relied on a systematized rational

 This remains true even as the tradition has shifted the argumentative basis for its beliefs away from a strictly theological understanding.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:03:49, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.014 Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism and the Problem of the Hidden Imam¯  legal theory that incorporated aspects of uncertainty but privileged the best option in a given case. The community was led by jurists who exercised many of the powers of the hidden Imam.¯ Believers were required to follow the rulings of a living jurist (marja‘ al-taql¯ıd) who also managed ﬁnancial resources and played a vocal role in public life. At this point, however, the jurists did not claim a direct right to rule on behalf of the Imam.¯ This was to change in the twentieth century.

suggested readings for further study The following works document the Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı embrace of rationalist theology and legal theory: Massimo Campanini, “The Mu‘tazila in Islamic History and Thought,” Religion Compass  (): –. Wilferd Madelung, “Authority in Twelver Shiism in the Absence of the Imam,” in La notion d’autorit´e au Moyen Age: Islam Byzance, Occident (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, ), –. Wilferd Madelung, “Imamism and Mu‘tazilite Theology,” in Le Sh¯ı‘isme Imamite¯ , ed. T. Fahd (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, ), –. Hossein Modarressi, Crisis and Consolidation in the Formative Period of Shi‘ite Islam (Princeton, NJ: Darwin, ), particularly –. Hossein Modarressi, An Introduction to Sh¯ı‘¯ı Law (London: Ithaca Press, ), particularly –. Andrew Newman, The Formative Period of Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism (Richmond, UK: Curzon, ). The following works discuss the history of the Buyid¯ dynasty in Iran and Iraq: Hugh Kennedy, The Prophet and the Age of the Caliphates (Edinburgh: Pearson, ), –. Roy Mottahedeh, Loyalty and Leadership in an Early Islamic Society (New York: I. B. Tauris, ). For historical background on the Safavid and Qajar dynasties, see Gene Garthwaite, The Persians (Malden, MA: Blackwell, ), – (Safavids) and – (Qajars). The following works discuss the role of Twelver jurists in the Safavid Empire: Rula Jurdi Abisaab, Converting Persia (London: I. B. Tauris, ), particularly –. Norman Calder, “Legitimacy and Accommodation in Safavid Iran,” Iran  (): –. Nikki Keddie, “The Roots of the Ulama’s Power in Modern Iran,” Studia Islamica  (): –.

Wilferd Madelung, “A Treatise of the Shar¯ıf al-Murtad. a¯ on the Legality of Working for the Government,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies  (): –. Colin Mitchell, The Practice of Politics in Safavid Iran: Power, Religion, and Rhetoric (London: I. B. Tauris, ), particularly –. The following works examine the Akhbar¯ ¯ı-Us.ul¯ ¯ı conﬂict in Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism beginning in the seventeenth century: Rula Jurdi Abisaab, Converting Persia (London: I. B. Tauris, ), particularly –. Encyclopaedia of Islam, rd ed., s.v. “Akhbariyya¯ and Us.uliyya”¯ (Gleave). Encyclopaedia of Islam, rd ed., s.v. “al-Bihbahan¯ ¯ı” (Gleave). Robert Gleave, Inevitable Doubt (Leiden: Brill, ). Robert Gleave, Scripturalist Islam (Leiden: Brill, ). Etan Kohlberg, “Aspects of Akhbar¯ ¯ı Thought in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries,” in Eighteenth-Century Renewal and Reform in Islam, ed. Nehemia Levtzion and John O. Voll (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, ). Roy Mottahedeh, The Mantle of the Prophet (New York: Simon and Schuster, ), particularly –. The Oxford Encyclopedia of Islam and Law, s.v. “Legal Theory: Modern Shi‘i” (Aun Ali).

Section  documented the development of three Sh¯ı‘¯ı communities from their origins in early Islam to their assumption of a “classical” form. The Zayd¯ıs oscillated between Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı orientations depending on political circumstances. The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs were led by an inerrant Imam¯ from a single genetic line with the unilateral ability to create doctrine and law. After the disappearance of their twelfth Imam,¯ the Twelvers vested his authority in rationalist scholars, who were increasingly complicit in the exercise of political power. In the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, Zayd¯ı, Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı, and Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism were challenged by the emergence of new technologies, political ideologies, and religious forces. Similar changes had occurred in previous centuries, but the pace and scope of modern transformations were unprecedented. In addition, each community had to deal with the rising power of Europe, the influence of which was difficult to avoid even in areas spared direct colonization, such as northern Yemen and Iran. The final section of this book examines the experience of Sh¯ı‘¯ıcom- munities in the contemporary world. Chapter  focuses on the rise in Yemen of a secular nationalist government, which has attempted to discredit central Zayd¯ı beliefs, particularly the elevated status of Sayyids and the doctrine of armed uprising (khuruj¯ ). In its place, the state has championed the Sunn¯ı traditionism of Muh. ammad al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı, provoking responses from Zayd¯ı scholars that range from accommodation to overt rebellion. Chapter  centers on the reformulation of the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community in India beginning in the late nineteenth century under the leadership of the Aga Khans. This process, which was explicitly supported by British colonial power, culminated in the creation of a new, transnational Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı identity supported by an institutional hierarchy of humanitarian



Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 17:05:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.022  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam organizations. Chapter  traces the politicization of the Twelvers through Ali Shariati’s transformation of the story of Karbala under the inﬂuence of Third Worldism and Marxism and through Ruhollah Khomeini’s claim that a jurist may directly exercise the political authority of the hidden Imam.¯

The contemporary Zayd¯ıSh¯ı‘¯ı community continues to struggle with the challenges posed by Sunn¯ı traditionism. These challenges have persisted through the end of the Qasim¯ ¯ıImamate¯ in ,theriseofanewZayd¯ı Imamate¯ (the H. am¯ıd al-D¯ıns) in , and the establishment of a Yemeni Republic in . This chapter is organized chronologically and begins with an examination of the continuities between the later Qasim¯ ¯ıandH. am¯ıd al-D¯ın Imamates.¯ It then turns to the Republican period, during which the state has patronized a version of Zaydism that closely resembled Sunn¯ı traditionism while persecuting Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ı communities. The chapter ends with a survey of the multiple strategies Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ı scholars have used to create a space for themselves in the social and political landscape of twenty-ﬁrst-century Yemen.

i. the h. am¯ıd al-d¯ın imamate¯ (1918–62) After the collapse of the Qasim¯ ¯ıImamate¯ in , Yemen endured twenty years of chaos (–) followed by thirty-ﬁve years of Ottoman rule (–). In ,Muh. ammad b. Yah. yaH¯ . am¯ıd al-D¯ın (r. –), a descendant of the ﬁrst Qasim¯ ¯ıZayd¯ıImam,¯ organized a rebellion in northern Yemen with the support of a tribal coalition that included a number of the most important Sayyid clans. He was succeeded by his son al-Mutawakkil Yah. yab.Muh¯ . ammad (r. –, subsequently referred to as Imam¯ Yah. ya),¯ who seized control of the entire country in  after the Ottoman defeat in World War I. This marked the start of the last Zayd¯ı Imamate¯ in Yemen. Any assessment of the H. am¯ıd al-D¯ın Imams¯ is complicated by their contentious place in contemporary Yemeni polemics. As part of a broad

 The title “Sayyid” refers to a descendant of the Prophet through ‘Al¯ıandFat¯.ima. Sayyid clans claim such descent and were particularly inﬂuential in establishing the legitimacy of those who sought the Imamate.¯



Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:00:26, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.016  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam propaganda effort, the current Republican regime depicts these Imams¯ as elitist and oppressive figures and ascribes to them views associated with Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism. In reality, however, the H. am¯ıd al-D¯ın Imams¯ were oriented toward Sunn¯ı traditionism and continued many of the policies first instituted by the late Qasim¯ ¯ıImams¯ (see Chapter ). The influence of Sunn¯ı traditionist ideas was particularly evident in the reign of Imam¯ Yah. ya.¯ Despite publicly asserting allegiance to Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism, he borrowed heavily from late Qasim¯ ¯ı symbols of authority (e.g., royal umbrellas) and surrounded himself with retinues of guards and servants. He also established a standing army and erected an administrative structure (including the post of chief judge) reminiscent of the eighteenth-century Qasim¯ ¯ı state. Imam¯ Yah. ya’s¯ legal code cited prominent Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ı jurists, but it also included numerous breaks, exemptions, and emendations in the form of special rulings (known as ikhtiyar¯ at¯ ). It was in these exceptions that his traditionist inclinations were most apparent. He rejected, for example, the seminal Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ı opinion that social equality (kafa’a¯ ) was a condition for marriage, thereby allowing unions between Sayyid women and non-Sayyid men. These special rulings were supported by traditions taken from the Sunn¯ı canonical collections and the opinions of Sunn¯ı traditionist scholars such as Ibn al-Qayyim (d. ) and Muh. ammad al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı(d.). The traditionist policies of the H. am¯ıd al-D¯ın Imams¯ were partially aimed at mobilizing support in the larger (Sunn¯ı) Muslim world. Another component of this effort involved the depiction of traditionist scholars (e.g., al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı) as representatives of Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism. The H. am¯ıd al- D¯ın Imams¯ wanted to build a bridge between the Zayd¯ıs of Yemen and a growing cohort of modernist Sunn¯ı thinkers. The strategy was initially quite successful, with important Sunn¯ı intellectuals such as Rash¯ıd Rid.a¯ (d. ) praising the Zayd¯ı tradition in their public writings. At the same time, it was fundamentally misleading because it ignored (or willfully erased) the theological and intellectual foundations of Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism. The dubious claim that Zaydism was essentially identical to Sunnism was routinely circulated throughout the H. am¯ıd al-D¯ın period. The most important way in which the policies of the H. am¯ıd al- D¯ın Imams¯ broke from Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism involved the explicit endorsement of dynastic rule. The late Qasim¯ ¯ıImams,¯ despite their embrace of

 This contradicted one of the seminal assumptions of Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism – namely, the elevated status of Sayyid lineage.  Haykel, Revival, .

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:00:26, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.016 Zaydism at the Crossroads  traditionist forms of political legitimation, had never directly claimed king- ship. By contrast, the H. am¯ıd al-D¯ın Imams¯ used the title “king” and called their state “the Mutawakkilite Kingdom of Yemen.” This unprecedented move was especially striking given the deep hostility of Hadaw¯ ¯ıZaydism to royalist institutions. Although Imam¯ Yah. ya¯ claimed that the title was primarily semantic (the international community was not familiar with the word “Imam”)¯ and had little bearing on the nature of his rule, its adoption suggested a very different conception of political power and legitimacy. Imam¯ Yah. ya’s¯ monarchical tendencies were further evidenced by his designation of his son Ah. mad as crown prince (wal¯ıal-‘ahd)in. According to the sources, he was persuaded to do so by a letter he received from a number of government scholars and public officials. The letter quoted traditions drawn from the Sunn¯ı canonical collections and employed a nationalist rhetoric that warned of the potential for foreign machinations in Yemeni politics. Although dynastic succession was practiced by the late Qasim¯ ¯ıImams,¯ its use in the H. am¯ıd al-D¯ın period was institutionalized in a manner that resembled prominent Sunn¯ı dynasties (e.g., the ‘Abbasids).¯  Imam¯ Yah. ya¯ was assassinated in  by a conspiracy that involved a number of prominent Sayyid families. After a period of chaos and conflicting claims, his son Imam¯ Ah. mad (r. –) seized power and reaf- firmed most of his father’s policies. The state was now officially called “the Mutawakkilite Kingdom” and was ruled by a sovereign who was expected to appoint his son as crown prince. Imam¯ Ah. mad continued the use of special rulings, often simply confirming those of his father. In the appointment of public officials, he was primarily motivated by political loyalty as opposed to ideology or theology. This meant that both Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ıand traditionist scholars received judicial and administrative positions. Overall, however, the most important and influential posts remained in the hands of traditionists and, particularly, the students of Muh. ammad al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı.

ii. republican yemen (1970–present) Imam¯ Ahmad’s death in September  sparked an armed uprising led by a small group of Yemeni military ofﬁcers who were known as the Free Yemenis. This plunged the country into a civil war that lasted eight years and ended with the defeat of royalist forces loyal to Ah. mad’s

 In this model, the crown prince’s right to the succession is symbolized by his assumption of a particular set of administrative and military functions.  TheFreeYemen¯ıs were not a new group. They had been active in the politics of northern Yemen since the s with intellectual roots that stretched back into the s.

son Muh. ammad al-Badr. The new state was ideologically dominated by Free Yemeni intellectuals, such as Muh. ammad Mah. mud¯ al-Zubayr¯ıand Muh. ammad al-Akwa‘, who unequivocally rejected Yemen’s Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ı past. In their writings and speeches, they criticized Zayd¯ı scholars for legitimizing the elitist domination of Sayyid families in Yemen. They also forwarded traditionism as the ideal means for establishing links with the broader Sunn¯ı Muslim world. To acquire global influence, Republican Yemen had to break free of the parochialism and royalist inclinations of Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism. Free Yemeni intellectuals enjoyed the exclusive patronage of the new Republican government, which took control of North Yemen in  and the entirety of Yemen after the unification agreement of . Supporters of the H. am¯ıd al-D¯ın regime were labeled “royalists” and accused of condoning Sayyid oppression of the Yemeni non-Sayyid population. The Republican state (led by Ali Abdullah Saleh from  to ) also fundamentally reinterpreted the history of the late Qasim¯ ¯ıandH. am¯ıd al-D¯ın Imamates.¯ Figures such as Imam¯ Ah. mad who had explicitly favored traditionist scholars were now depicted as avid, if not fanatical, Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zayd¯ıs intent on persecuting all other religious groups. The revolution was then presented as a conflict between a Yemeni population seeking freedom and tyrannical Sayyids. Such a reinterpretation, however, was contradicted by the long history of cooperation between the late Qasim¯ ¯ıandH. am¯ıd al-D¯ın Imams¯ and Sunn¯ı traditionist scholars. The Free Yemenis explained this discrepancy by recasting traditionist scholars as advocates for the “oppressed” population. Al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı was thus transformed from a key power broker in the later Qasim¯ ¯ıImamate¯ to an outsider who accepted a government office only in the interests of spreading his teachings. The Qasim¯ ¯ıImams¯ had sought to conceal their own inadequacies behind his reputation and prestige. Al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı’s traditionism provided the Yemeni Republican government with the basis for a new global identity. As detailed earlier, the traditionist project drew on the Sunn¯ı canonical collections to produce a theological and legal system that undercut the foundations of Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism. In particular, the doctrine of the scholar-activist Imam¯ from a Sayyid family was rejected in favor of the conventional Sunn¯ı notion of political leadership. The Republican government’s preference for Sunn¯ı traditionist voices was further reinforced by the rise of Saudi Arabia, whose Wahhab¯ ¯ı ideology also called for a return to the textual sources. In practical terms, the Republican state conflated Zaydism and traditionism in a manner that resembled the earlier policies of the H. am¯ıd al-D¯ın Imams.¯ This allowed it to forward Yemen as an important voice in the (Sunn¯ı) Muslim

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:00:26, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.016 Zaydism at the Crossroads  world. Many Zayd¯ı scholars embraced this perspective. They continued to identify as Zayd¯ıs even as they rejected the Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ınotionofthe Imamate¯ and adopted al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı’s legal methodology. The Republican state’s overt hostility toward Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism was man- ifested in a number of ways. First, the state subjected many Sayyids to persecution or even execution, creating an atmosphere of paranoia and fear. This tactic stemmed from the government’s belief that all Sayyids were potential political threats. Second, the state either funded or allowed the foreign funding of traditionist missionary activities in Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zayd¯ı regions in North Yemen. The Saudis played a particularly important role in this regard by financing “scholarly institutes” (al-ma‘ahid¯ al-‘ilmiyya)explicitly designed to spread Sunn¯ı traditionist ideas and to counter Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism. The most prominent representative of this trend was Muqbil al-Wadi‘¯ ¯ı(d.), who was educated in Medina and then returned to Yemen to lead one of these institutions in the city of S.a‘da, the very center of Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ı learning in the Yemeni highlands. Third, the Republican state made it effectively illegal to hold Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zayd¯ı theological views pertaining to the Imamate.¯ It was deemed outside the bounds of acceptable discourse and patently anti-Republican to believe in the superiority of Sayyids or affirm the legitimacy of armed uprising. Fourth, the government systematically discriminated against Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ıs in the allocation of state resources. There was a marked decrease in the number of Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zayd¯ı scholars who received administrative, political, or judicial appointments. Moreover, Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ı educational instructions were severely underfinanced and often shut down for spreading subversive ideas. Lacking any real political power and viewed as a hostile force by the state, Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism declined steadily through the Republican period. In its place emerged a community of scholars from Zayd¯ı backgrounds (many of whom continued to identify as Zayd¯ıs) who adopted the Sunn¯ı traditionist positions of Ibn al-Waz¯ır (d. ) and al-Shawkan¯ ¯ı. Their rise was reflected in regular claims in the popular press and scholarly writings that Zaydism closely resembled Sunnism. Such characterizations are patently false and misrepresent the historical and intellectual legacy of Zaydism in Yemen. A contemporary scholar describes the situation as follows: Any visitor to Yemen cannot help but notice the lack of knowledge surrounding the madhab, even amongst self-identifying Zayd¯ıs. As Zayd¯ıs became largely powerless¯ to promote Zayd¯ı thought and history to the Yemeni population, countless individuals and communities in the historically Zayd¯ı tribal regions of Upper Yemen assimilated into a dominant Sunn¯ı religious culture. These “conversions,” ranging from a conscious repudiation of Zayd¯ıIslaminfavorof

The next section examines the multiple strategies the Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ıcom- munity has used to reconstitute itself in contemporary Yemen.

iii. a zayd¯ı revival? Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism in modern Yemen is deeply divided as scholars struggle to adapt and reorganize under the strictures of the Republican state. James King identifies a number of disparate groups that self-identify as Zayd¯ı. These range from communities that clearly embrace a classical formulation of Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism to others that reduce the term to a tribal or geographic affiliation with little doctrinal commitment (essentially Sunnified traditionist Zayd¯ıs). Gabriele vom Bruck offers a similar categorization, differentiating between those Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ıs who retain the activist bent of their tradition and those who consciously choose to compromise for political ends. A significant number of Zayd¯ı scholars (primarily centered in Sana‘a) are wary of the potential consequences of a resurgent Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism. Many of them come from Sayyid families who suffered the brunt of government persecution through the sands. Muh. ammad b. Ah. mad Sharaf al-D¯ın, for example, argues that Sayyid persecution in Republican Yemen stems from the political claims of activist Zayd¯ıvoices. Specifically, he accuses the Sayyids of manipulating the people’s love of the family of the Prophet for personal political gain. Sharaf al-D¯ın then offers four principles to reduce conflict between the Republican government and Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ıs: (i) There shall be no coercion in religion or madhhab. There is no way after today to spread what is called Zayd¯ıorSh¯ı‘¯ı beliefs. (ii) The Hashimites [Sayyids] have no special status nor are they superior to others. People are equal as the teeth of a comb. There is no preference for an Arab over a non-Arab. (iii) The term “Imamate”¯ as it has been used by the Zayd¯ıs should be frozen for five hundred years. If after this period forthcoming generations want to review this issue, it is left to them and their specific conditions.

 King, “Zayd¯ı Revival,” .  King, “Zayd¯ı Revival,” .  See, for example, vom Bruck, “Regimes of Piety,” –.  For the discussion that follows, see vom Bruck, “Regimes of Piety,” –.

A. Cultural and Educational Revival Although Sharaf al-D¯ın’s views certainly ﬁnd support in some Yemeni Zayd¯ı communities (particularly in Sana‘a among a certain class of Sayyids), they clash with an activist Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism embodied by a growing network of public institutions. This resurgence is most evident in the cultural and educational spheres. The s and early s have witnessed the public celebration of Sh¯ı‘¯ı festivals such as ‘¯Id al-Ghad¯ır (see Chapter ), the distribution of cassettes and brochures explaining Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ı beliefs, and the establishment of a club of “Believing Youth” (al-shabab¯ al-mu’min) that runs educational programs and study circles. The most important symbol of this brand of activism is the Imam¯ Zayd b. ‘Al¯ı Cultural Foundation (IZBACF), which was founded in Sana‘a in . The foundation’s goals and challenges are described by King as follows: With activities ranging from publishing Zayd¯ı books to organizing lectures on the madhab, Foundation scholars and technicians have also catalogued, edited and digitized¯ thousands of seminal Zayd¯ı manuscripts. [IZBACF’s] efforts to preserve these texts demonstrate the challenges Zayd¯ı activists face in a Republic whose state-building project sought to undermine Zayd¯ı thought, transform (or even erase) the collective reading of Zayd¯ı history and supplant Zayd¯ı collective identity. In this context, some Yemenis, including government ofﬁcials, deem the preservation and distribution of Zayd¯ı manuscripts a subversive act. While these texts are an extant product and legacy of Yemenihistory, they also represent the ideology that undergirded the Imamate¯ and that which the state superseded and replaced. By editing and publishing important Zayd¯ı texts, the foundation effectively counters the traditionist narrative of Zaydism and reiterates the activist

 These conditions are taken from vom Bruck, “Regimes of Piety,” .  King, “Zayd¯ı Revival,” .  King, “Zayd¯ı Revival,” .

B. Political Revival The political dimensions of the Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ı resurgence go back to the  founding of the H. izb al-H. aqq (the Party of Truth). The new party was meant to defend Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ı interests against the incur- sions of Saudi Arabia and the Republican Yemeni government through political participation. The initial results of this strategy were disap- pointing, with the party winning only two seats in the  national elections. This was likely a result of the lingering association of Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism with the oppressive H. am¯ıd al-D¯ın Imamate¯ in the minds of many Yemenis. The party’s early setbacks produced significant disenchantment in Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ı scholarly circles. Specifically, it enabled the rise of activist voices such as that of H. usayn al-H. uth¯ ¯ı, a former H. izb al-H. aqq representative to the Yemeni government, who publicly criticized the government’s discriminatory policies. There were also accusations (with some credence) that the H. izb al-H. aqq had sacrificed key Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zayd¯ı positions in the interests of political expediency. Tensions were further aggravated by an

 King, “Zayd¯ı Revival,” .  See their website: http://ymdi.uoregon.edu/  Haykel, “Zaydi Revival,” .

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:00:26, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.016 Zaydism at the Crossroads  increase in US military aid to Yemen in the aftermath of /. The situation exploded in  with the outbreak of hostilities in the S.a‘da governate between a group of Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ıs (known as the Believing Youth, discussed earlier) and the Yemeni army. H. usayn was killed in September  and succeeded at the head of the movement by his father Badr al-D¯ın (d. ). As of , the conflict had claimed thousands of lives and reportedly displaced nearly , people in northern Yemen. The media and popular response to the H. uth¯ ¯ı conflict unequivocally backed the position of the Republican government. It was alleged that the Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ıs were interested in the reestablishment of an elitist Sayyid Imamate¯ (the H. uth¯ ¯ıs are a Sayyid family). President Saleh described the insurgency not as an expression of Zayd¯ı discontent at discriminatory government policies but rather as an uprising typical of past Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ı revolutions. This rhetoric was widespread despite repeated disavowals from  both H. usayn and Badr al-D¯ın al-H. uth¯ ¯ı of any political aspirations. The press repeatedly characterized Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism as a radical form of Sh¯ı‘ism and (ironically – see Chapter ) connected it to Hezbollah and the Islamic Republic of Iran. In the process, it was cast as a foreign accretion attempting to subvert the state as opposed to an indigenous tradition rooted in the history of Yemen itself. The popular reaction to the H. uth¯ ¯ı conflict epitomizes the central challenge faced by Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ıs in contemporary Yemen. Their religious tradition has been demonized by a Republican Yemeni state that favors a Zaydism flavored by Sunn¯ı traditionism. This severely limits the options available to the indigenous Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ı population. If they condemn the H. uth¯ ¯ıs as rebels, they effectively accept their status as second-class citi- zens. If they sympathize with the H. uth¯ ¯ıs for challenging the government’s persecution of their religious community, they are suspect and subject to imprisonment or persecution as traitors. The current atmosphere in Yemen does not permit an individual to be both a Yemeni citizen and a Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zayd¯ı.

C. Interpretive Revival Reinterpretive efforts offer a potential avenue for allaying popular concerns about particularly controversial aspects of Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism such as the

 For a comprehensive history of the conﬂict, see Salmoni et al., Regime and Periphery.  King, “Zayd¯ı Revival,” .  It is worth noting that as a Sayyid scholar of the highest rank, Badr al-D¯ın al-H. uth¯ ¯ı was certainly qualiﬁed to claim the Imamate¯ had he been so inclined.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:00:26, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.016  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam elevated status of Sayyids, the activist template of summons (da‘wa)and uprising (khuruj¯ ), and the autocratic nature of the Imamate.¯ A number of Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ı scholars from both Sayyid and non-Sayyid backgrounds have disavowed the notion of Sayyid superiority by expanding the definition of the family of the Prophet. This is a striking break from classical doctrine, and it remains unclear whether it will win acceptance in the larger Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zayd¯ı scholarly community. Other scholars have offered a modern reinterpretation of the Zayd¯ı concept of uprising (khuruj¯ ) traditionally associated with the founding of a new Imamate.¯ Recall that a qualified candidate establishes a new Imamate¯ by summoning his followers to overthrow an oppressive state. In the new formulation, democracy allows a candidate to demonstrate his credentials and topple a repressive regime through a political campaign (da‘wa) rather than military action. Electoral mechanisms in the contemporary Yemeni state thus play the role previously ascribed to rebellion. Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ı scholars also connect their tradition to representative government through the concept of consultation. As discussed in Chapter , when multiple contenders claimed the Imamate¯ after the death of a sitting Imam,¯ a council of scholars and tribal leaders would evaluate each candidate’s credentials to determine who was most qualified to rule. Democratic elections serve the function of consultation, with the general population taking the place of the scholars and tribal leaders. Finally, many Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zayd¯ıs deny the legitimacy of any rebellion against a leader who comes to power through the electoral process. In an effort to ease the anxieties of the larger Yemeni populace, they stress that revolution (i) is not legitimate against a ruler simply because of lineage (citing, e.g., the case of the legitimate but non-Sayyid Umayyad caliph ‘Umar b. ‘Abd al-‘Az¯ız, r. –) and (ii) is permissible only against an overt tyrant. They further emphasize that Zayd¯ı revolutions were not designed to empower Sayyids but rather to fight injustice. Some even ascribe the revolution of  to the Zayd¯ı tradition’s deep commitment to the principle of justice. Inverting the logic of state propaganda, they describe the H. am¯ıd al-D¯ın Imams¯ as oppressive monarchs deservedly toppled by a population committedtojustrule. These efforts at reinterpretation are meant to highlight the compatibility of Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism with the institutions of the modern Yemeni state. At the same time, they represent an attempt to preserve a connection to the tradition’s past. In the words of one commentator, “as this scholarly

 King, “Zayd¯ı Revival,” .

iv. final thoughts The Zayd¯ıs emerged in the eighth century from a proto-Sunn¯ı milieu but increasingly adopted Sh¯ı‘¯ı positions in the wake of a series of failed rebellions. After establishing states in Yemen and the southern Caspian coast, they confronted the practical realities of political rule. How could a stable state be predicated on the idea that any ‘Alid might rise up in rebellion to forward his own claim to the Imamate?¯ How could Zaydism account for an Imam¯ who did not meet all the requirements of the office but enforced his rule purely through military power? Zayd¯ı scholars also had to contend with Sunn¯ı networks with deep roots in southern Yemen. The influence of these networks grew over time and eventually won a significant following in traditional Zayd¯ı communities. By the twelfth century, Zaydism had achieved its classical form, which combined Mu‘tazil¯ı theology with a set of beliefs best characterized as Jar¯ ud¯ ¯ı. After the collapse of the Caspian Zayd¯ı states, Yemen became the geographic and intellectual center of Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism, with the northern highlands governed by a succession of Sayyid Imamates.¯ The fifteenth century saw the beginnings of a Sunn¯ı traditionist movement that challenged the power of the Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zayd¯ı establishment. It was aided by the rise of a new Zayd¯ı dynasty, the Qasim¯ ¯ıImams,¯ that undercut the authority of Hadaw¯ ¯ı Zaydism for a number of reasons. First, the Qasim¯ ¯ı state was increasingly dependent on revenues generated from Sunn¯ı agricultural regions. This meant it was highly invested in maintaining the loyalty of its Sunn¯ı subjects. Second, the later Qasim¯ ¯ıImams¯ lacked the scholarly qualifications required of Hadaw¯ ¯ıZayd¯ıImams¯ and sought a new basis

 King, “Zayd¯ı Revival,” .

suggested readings for further study The following works provide a useful account of the political history of modern Yemen: Paul Dresch, Tribes, Government, and History in Yemen (New York: Oxford Uni- versity Press, ). Bernard Haykel, Revival and Reform in Islam (New York: Cambridge University Press, ), particularly –, focusing on the history of Yemen in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Brinkley Messick, The Calligraphic State (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, ), which examines authority in the modern period but assumes a Sunn¯ı traditionist narrative of Zaydism. The following works examine the Zayd¯ı resurgence in the modern period: Laurent Bonnefoy, “Varieties of Islamism in Yemen: The Logic of Integration under Pressure,” Middle East Review of International Affairs  (): –. Gabriele vom Bruck, Islam, Memory, and Morality in Yemen (New York: Palgrave, ). Gabriele vom Bruck, “Regimes of Piety Revisited: Zayd¯ı Political Moralities in Republican Yemen,” Die Welt des Islams  (): –. Ayman Hamidi, “Inscriptions of Violence in Northern Yemen: Haunting Histo- ries, Unstable Moral Spaces,” Middle East Studies  (): –.

This chapter focuses on the mobilization of Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı communities by the Aga Khans from the nineteenth through the twenty-first centuries. The first section traces the Aga Khans’ efforts to reinscribe and consolidate their authority over the Khojas and other historically Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıcommu- nities. These efforts, which benefited from British colonial policies, had to overcome a Khoja communal identity that was grounded in caste as opposed to religious considerations. The second section documents the Aga Khans’ embrace of transnationalism through the creation of a network of nongovernmental organizations. These served both to extend the scope of their authority to disparate and isolated Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı populations and to establish them as powerful nonstate players with broad international influence. In the contemporary period, the Aga Khans play dual and perhaps contradictory roles as (i) political heads of a nonterritorial community advocating European values and (ii) authoritative Imams¯ of a religious community whose members are largely non-European.

i.theriseoftheagakhans

A. Reinscribing Authority When the Aga Khan arrived in India in the s, he encountered a Khoja community ﬁrmly entrenched in local religious and political structures. In terms of religion, the Khojas adhered to the Satpanth (True Path) tradition that “employed terms and ideas from a variety of Indic religious and philosophical currents, such as the Bhakti, Sant, Suﬁ, Vaishnavite, and yogic traditions to articulate its core concepts.” They straddled the lines

 This section’s discussion of the Aga Khan’s shift to India and the court cases of  and  is derived from Asani, “From Satpanthi,” –; Shodhan, Community, –; and Steinberg, Modern, –.  Asani, “From Satpanthi,” .



Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:10:07, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.017 (Nizar¯ ¯ı) Isma‘¯ ¯ılism Reconstituted  among a variety of identities without conforming to the Muslim–Hindu dichotomy that would come to dominate India under British colonial rule. The Khojas held to a set of religious practices that combined Sh¯ı‘¯ırituals with local non-Sh¯ı‘¯ı traditions. On the one hand, they participated in the annual commemorations of the death of H. usayn, favored the transport of the dead to Karbala for burial, and performed the standard Muslim prayer on special occasions. On the other, they developed a daily prayer with a distinctive form that was recited in Gujarati as opposed to Arabic and conducted three, rather than five, times a day. Khojas also placed an emphasis on the Ginans (see Chapter ), hymnlike poetic constructions that were ascribed to Pirs and included a wide range of both Muslim and non-Muslim Indic symbols. The religious syncretism of the Khojas was further evident in issues on which the community broke with Islamic law, such as its rejection of the right of daughters to inherit property and its injunction against the remarriage of widows. The Khojas occupied a discrete niche in the social and political fabric of Indian society as a caste primarily associated with trade. The Bombay Khoja community (known as a jama‘at¯ ) exercised considerable local autonomy and was governed by a council that resolved disputes, administered finances, and directed religious rituals. In general, the councils relied on customary practice rather than Islamic law in their rulings. This system of governance was supported by voluntary financial contributions, which increased considerably under the British in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The funds were used to purchase properties such as the council hall (known as the jama‘at¯ khana¯ ) where the community gathered for large social and religious occasions. By the early nineteenth century, the Bombay Khojas had substantial property holdings that included at least one mosque and a number of shrines. Khoja identity was a careful negotiation of multiple traditions that eluded easy classification. One contemporary scholar has described the Khoja community as follows:

On account of the uniquely constructed multivalent Satpanthi formulation, the Khojas could effectively participate in several social identities simultaneously and navigate between them with ﬂuidity: they were members of a mercantile group who followed Satpanth, “the true path,” a tradition that could be simultaneously understood within both Islamic and Indic doctrinal frameworks.

 There is a distinction between the Islamic (shar¯ı‘a) prayer and the customary Khoja (.tar¯ıqa)invoca- tion. The Khoja community sometimes substitutes the latter for the former, but this is not the practice of other (non-Khoja) Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs. The Imams¯ consider the two types of prayers complementary.

The Khojas expressed different identities in different contexts. They were an insular community with distinctive beliefs and sociopolitical interests. The friction between Aga Khan I and the Khoja community of Bombay preceded his arrival in . Much of the tension centered on the funds Khojas routinely sent to the Imam¯ as a sign of their devotion. Recall from Chapter  that many Khojas performed pilgrimages to Iran to visit the Imam¯ and to present these monetary gifts in person. As early as ,Aga Khan I had dispatched agents to Bombay to collect funds that amounted to . percent of the profits of Khoja merchants. The local council rejected this rate of taxation, instead offering a much smaller fraction of their revenue. In the short term, Aga Khan I dropped his demands, but the episode caused a split among the Khojas. The Imam’s¯ opponents portrayed him as an outsider (and later as a refugee from Iran) intent on seizing control of the local community for financial gain. They also criticized him for resisting Khoja educational reforms, such as the use of English in the classroom and the adoption of a curriculum based on the European model. In a series of publications, they described him as a divisive force intent on perpetuating ignorance among the Khojas. The animosity between the Aga Khan and members of the Khoja elite eventually reached the British colonial courts. The first case went to trial in  and involved inheritance law, with the Aga Khan arguing in favor of the Qur’anic¯ position that guaranteed daughters a share. He was opposed by some members of the Khoja community, who preferred the customary practice that reserved the entire inheritance for sons. The British court ruled against the Aga Khan and in favor of Khoja custom. In his decision, Justice Erskine Perry described the Khojas as a Muslim community that was ignorant of its own religious tradition and had adopted Hindu customs. The ruling was confirmed in , when the court issued a document that denied the Aga Khan any right to interfere in the internal affairs of the Khoja community. Soon after his arrival in Bombay in , the Aga Khan managed to overcome council opposition and win over a majority of the Bombay Khoja population. Dissident Khojas then created a rival center (jama‘at¯ khana¯ ) that divided the community and on at least one occasion led to

 Asani, “From Satpanthi,” –.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:10:07, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.017 (Nizar¯ ¯ı) Isma‘¯ ¯ılism Reconstituted  bloodshed. In addition to financial affairs, Aga Khan I began asserting his authority in ritual matters by requiring his partisans to desist from non-Sh¯ı‘¯ı practices. He argued that such practices were a product of precautionary dissimulation (taqiyya), which was no longer necessary under the security of British colonial rule. In the following decades, Aga Khan I and his successors went even further, systematically replacing vestiges of Hindu and Gujarati influence with Muslim practices and Arabic prayers. The struggle for control of the Khoja community culminated in  with a second trial. In this case, the opponents of Aga Khan I argued that he was not a member of the Khoja caste and therefore had no role in the management of Khoja communal property. Rather than focusing on this narrow issue, Justice Joseph Arnould used the trial to issue a more general judgment regarding the religious identity of the Khojas and their relation to the Aga Khan. He was likely influenced by a change in the political environment of India following the rebellion of .Thenew British colonial administration was in the midst of a comprehensive survey of Indian society that sought a formal categorization of ethnic and religious groups. This knowledge was considered critical for the effective governance of India. As discussed earlier, the Khojas fell on a spectrum between Muslim and Hindu, complicating British efforts at clearly demarcating communal boundaries. The  court ruling had acknowledged this ambiguity and described the Khojas as a Muslim group that had largely adopted Hindu customs. Such a contradiction was untenable in post- India. The  Aga Khan case allowed Justice Arnould to determine the religious identity of the Khoja community once and for all. The plaintiffs in the  trial claimed that the Khojas were a Sunn¯ı sect with no clear ties to the Aga Khan. The defense (i.e., the Aga Khan) asserted the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı Sh¯ı‘¯ı identity of the Khojas, relying primarily on the “Dasavatar,”awork¯ of the Ginan genre that listed ten avatars of Vishnu. The first nine of these avatars were Hindu figures, whereas the tenth was ‘Al¯ı, the first Sh¯ı‘¯ıImam.¯ According to the defense, this important Ginan documented the conversion of the Khojas from Hinduism to Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıSh¯ı‘ism at the hands of an agent sent by a forebear of the Aga Khan.

 There is a vast literature dealing with this process of colonial “knowledge production,” which involves the imposition of European (or Orientalist) paradigms onto colonized societies. In the Indian context, these are important themes in both Purohit’s The Aga Khan Case and Shodhan’s A Question of Community. The project of knowledge production in a colonial context is also discussed by Franz Fanon in The Wretched of the Earth, translated by Constance Farrington (New York: Grove Press, ) and by Edward Said in Orientalism (New York: Pantheon, ).

In order to enjoy the full privilege of membership in the Khoja community, a person must be one of that sect whose ancestors were originally Hindu, which was converted to, and has throughout abided in the faith of, the Shia Imami Ismailis, and which has always been and still is bound by ties of spiritual allegiance to the hereditary Imams of the Ismailis. The consequences of the judgment were immediate and far-reaching. In addition to winning control of the property and assets of the Khoja community, the Aga Khan was acknowledged by the British government as their sole authority and spokesman. Justice Arnould effectively determined the parameters of Khoja identity, dismissing customary practices and competing historical claims. As Jonah Steinberg notes, “Establishing the absolute, factual truth-value of the community’s origins trumped consultation with the community over its current views. The community was asked to answer for its own authenticity against the standard of orientalist scholarship on the community.” The Khojas were now governed not by a distant symbolic Imam¯ residing in Iran but by a supreme authoritative ﬁgure bearing the full powers of an Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıImam.¯ The decision prompted many Khojas to leave the community and to convert to Sunnism or Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. At the same time, it allowed the Aga Khan to recreate a Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community in colonial India.

B. Expansion and Consolidation In the middle of the nineteenth century, British mercantile practices opened up trade routes throughout the Indian Ocean rim. Indian settlements dominated by Khoja emigrants appeared in Oman, Zanzibar, and many regions of East Africa (i.e., the present nations of Tanzania and Uganda). In , aided by British improvements in infrastructure and an explosion in Indian Ocean trade, the population of diasporic Khoja communities was estimated at nearly ﬁfty thousand. This migration was primarily motivated by ﬁnancial incentives and elevated the strategic importance of the Khojas in the colonial British economy. It also provided the Aga Khans with an

 Shodhan, Community, .  Steinberg, Modern, .  This section’s discussion of the expansion of the Aga Khan’s authority relies heavily on Steinberg, Modern, – and Green, Bombay, –.  Steinberg, Modern, .

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:10:07, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.017 (Nizar¯ ¯ı) Isma‘¯ ¯ılism Reconstituted  opportunity for expanding their authority outside of India while simultaneously posing a significant challenge to their maintenance of communal control. The complications of Khoja expansion were particularly apparent during the Imamates¯ of Aga Khan II (r. –) and Aga Khan III (r. –). In an effort to maintain a degree of centralized authority, Aga Khan II regularly visited Khoja communities in East Africa and established council halls (jama‘at¯ khana¯ s) that served as centers of social and religious life. Aga Khan III was even more aggressive in his attempts at imposing doctrinal uniformity, relying on farman¯ s (formal legal edicts) that detailed proper belief and practice. Such edicts played an important role in consolidating Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı identity. In one instance, Aga Khan III suspended mourning rituals for H. usayn in favor of a renewed veneration of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıImams.¯ This measure was intended to prevent the assimilation of smaller Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı communities into numerically dominant Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı populations. Aga Khan III also reorganized local councils, elaborating a clear hierarchy and personally appointing figures to the most powerful posts. Beginning in the early s, he formalized the relationship between the local councils and the Imam¯ in the first of many official “constitutions.” In addition to promoting doctrinal unity, the constitution granted the Imam¯ the exclusive right to dismiss officials without cause and control of all financial resources. Aga Khan III thus managed both to unite diasporic communities and to reaffirm the authority of the Nizar¯ ¯ıImamate.¯ The efforts of Aga Khans II and III were significantly aided by British colonial policy. The British government was especially interested in reinforcing the Aga Khans’ authority among Muslim populations outside of India. British diplomatic records repeatedly emphasize the utility of the Aga Khan as an asset capable of securing the loyalty of his followers. In addition to providing a large stipend to Aga Khan I, the British responded favorably to requests made by Aga Khan III on behalf of Khojas settled in East Africa. They also honored the Aga Khans with a number of formal titles (most prominently “His Highness”), included them in British policy discussions at the highest levels, and supported their participation in international institutions. Aga Khan III, in particular, played an important role in the establishment of Aligarh University, was a founder of the All-India Muslim League (, representing Muslim interests in the Indian independence movement), and served as president of the League of Nations

 For an analysis of the relationship between the Aga Khans and the British government from the British perspective, see van Grondelle, The Ismailis in the Colonial Era.

C. Empire and Authority It is difficult to separate the reemergence of a distinctive Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community led by an Imam¯ from British colonial power. The Aga Khans’ control over the Khoja community in India was authorized by a British colonial court in  in an effort to demarcate communal identities to facilitate British rule. This transformed a loose association between the Khojas and their Imam¯ into a formal hierarchy and provided the Aga Khans access to significant financial resources. Once this relationship was legally endorsed by the British courts, the Aga Khans used colonial merchant networks to rein in diasporic Khoja communities under a central governing structure. The British further reinforced the Aga Khans’ authority by granting them formal titles and honors and by appointing them to prominent posts on the international stage. For their part, the Aga Khans loyally backed British foreign policy goals from their initial contacts with British agents in the s to the independence movements in India in

 Some scholars claim that Aga Khan III strongly supported British plans for partition. For a different view, it is instructive to consult Aga Khan III’s collected works, which are more ambiguous and equivocal on the matter. Full bibliographic references are provided at the end of the chapter.

ii. the construction of a transnational community The previous section detailed the process by which the Aga Khans exploited British colonial power to reconstitute a Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community. Their ambitions, however, extended well beyond this modest goal. In the twentieth and twenty-ﬁrst centuries, Aga Khans III and IV transformed Nizar¯ ¯ı Isma‘¯ ¯ılism into a transnational religious community unbound by the constraints of the international system. They developed global institutions that operated on three levels. First, they integrated scattered non-Khoja populations into the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı fold through humanitarian efforts that focused on economic development and education. Second, they promoted a “modernist” agenda that explicitly aligned Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ılism with Euro- pean and American values. Third, they reinforced their legitimacy as both nonstate actors in the international sphere and authoritative heirs of a long line of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıSh¯ı‘¯ıImams.¯

A. The Institutional Structure Any analysis of the contemporary Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community must begin with an examination of its complex institutional structure. The vast organization is headed by the Aga Khan who, as the inerrant Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı Imam,¯ wields absolute administrative and religious authority. Aga Khan III transferred the seat of the Imamate¯ from India to Aiglemont, an estate outside of Paris in France. This is the current location of the central secretariat that administers the economic, political, and religious affairs of the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs. Individual departments at Aiglemont are headed by ofﬁcials directly appointed by the Imam¯ and assigned tasks that range from economic management to diplomatic outreach. The highest levels of administration are dominated by Khojas. There is a dizzying array of global institutions under the direction of the Aga Khan. In the ﬁeld of development, most of them fall under the juris- diction of the Aga Khan Development Network (AKDN). These include

 The clearest study of this institutional structure is provided by Ruthven, “The Aga Khan,” –.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:10:07, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.017  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam the Aga Khan Rural Support Programs (AKRSP), the Aga Khan Fund for Economic Development (AKFED), and the Mountain Societies Devel- opment and Support Program (MSDSP). A separate network addresses specific needs such as education (Aga Khan Education Services – AKES) and health care (Aga Khan Health Services – AKHS). Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıcul- ture and history are the focus of the Aga Khan Trust for Culture (AKTC), the activities of which include the restoration of important historical sites, the preservation of the musical tradition of Central Asia, and the awarding of an annual architectural prize (the Aga Khan Award for Architecture). The mandate of all AKDN agencies extends beyond Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ılism, with grants routinely awarded to non-Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı projects. The Institute for Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı Studies (IIS), centered in London, provides more focused support for the advanced study of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı culture and history. The Aga Khan also continues to function as an Imam¯ in the classical Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı sense (see Chapter ). Over the past century, Aga Khans III and IV supervised the drafting of a series of constitutions for the governance of the global Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community. The most recent iteration of the constitution () created three levels of administration below the Imam:¯ local councils (jama‘at¯ khana¯ s), regional councils, and national councils. It also established the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı Tariqah and Religious Education Boards (ITREBs) to promote religious uniformity and an International Concili- ation and Arbitration Board (ICAB) to adjudicate commercial or family disputes and impose disciplinary measures. Although these structures wield considerable independent autonomy, they remain subject to the discretion of the Imam,¯ who may appoint or remove officials or redefine proper belief through formal legal edicts (farman¯ s). The sections that follow focus on broad themes rather than specific institutions. I am primarily interested in the impact of the Aga Khans’ development initiatives on a global Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı identity. In the interests of clarity, I use the acronym AKDN to represent the various constituent subdivisions (the AKRSP, etc.) of the Aga Khan’s development efforts.

B. Integration Up to now, this chapter’s discussion of modern Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ılism has focused on the Khojas and their diaspora in the Indian Ocean rim. Signif- icant Khoja populations have also settled in major urban areas in North America (e.g., New York, Toronto) and Europe (e.g., London, Paris). In addition, numerous non-Khoja Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı communities are spread throughout Central Asia. The largest population centers are located in the western

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:10:07, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.017 (Nizar¯ ¯ı) Isma‘¯ ¯ılism Reconstituted  Himalayas in Tajikistan, Afghanistan, northern Pakistan, and far-western China. These regions are home to a diverse mix of ethnic identities including, among others, the Pamirs of Tajikistan and the Hazara of Afghanistan. Other concentrations of historically Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı communities are found in Syria and Iran, which were (as mentioned in Chapter ) strongholds of Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ılism before the Mongol invasions of the thirteenth century. Although not Nizar¯ ¯ı in their orientation, Musta‘l¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs persist in Yemen and India. In the early twentieth century, the Aga Khans began utilizing their institutional resources to reach out to isolated Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı communities. This project served a dual purpose, improving the material conditions of local populations while simultaneously integrating them into a global Nizar¯ ¯ı Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı network. In the first step of the process, the Aga Khan would dispatch an agent or a missionary both to inform people of the return of their Imam¯ and to assess their material needs. In , for example, Aga Khan III sent Pir Sabzali to the western Himalayas to make contact with the locals. He traveled from village to village reciting a farman¯ that affirmed the Aga Khan’s position as the Imam,¯ articulated his financial claims, and detailed proper ritual practice. As Steinberg notes, these delegations are “framed as a renewal of contract and a revival of unity – the alpine villagers were being informed of their connection to the imam.” Through this strategy, the Aga Khans seek to incorporate isolated Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı villages into the structured hierarchy of the global Nizar¯ ¯ı community. Developmental programs play a critical role in establishing the Aga Khans’ authority in these non-Khoja regions. Many of the villages are located in isolated areas where national governments are either apathetic or overtly hostile to the population’s material needs. In other words, villagers feel politically disempowered with few opportunities for improving their lives. The arrival of the Aga Khan produces a radical change in their status with the influx of considerable material resources. Economic development is encouraged through the financing efforts of the AKDN, which promote local craft industries and tourism. The agricultural infrastructure is strengthened through investments in roads, irrigation, sanitation, and sus- tainability. The Aga Khan also builds primary and secondary schools while offering opportunities for higher education in international universities. All of these projects are closely identified with the Aga Khan and facilitate a local embrace of his role as Imam.¯

 This geographic breakdown is taken from Steinberg, Modern, –.  Steinberg, Modern, .

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:10:07, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.017  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam In addition to material benefits, the AKDN offers villages a sense of belonging in a larger, globalized community. Many of the workers in these regions are themselves Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs (urged to volunteer by the Aga Khan), creating a close-knit network of individuals across geographic space. Devel- opmental projects thus have the secondary benefit of fostering communal identity. The Aga Khan reinforces this feeling by representing disempowered Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı populations on the international stage, often interceding with national governments in times of crisis. Acceptance into a global Isma‘¯ ¯ılism “provides for adherents a deeply personal system of meaning and a totaliz- ingspacesuffusingandcircumscribingsubjectiveexperience....Itisthus clear that the formation of the transnational complex is a partnership that serves the goals and objectives of both local subjects and the elite leadership of the community.” Once established, this partnership empowers the Imam¯ to fashion a singular religious community with a unitary set of beliefs and practices. In providing support for his followers, the Imam¯ fulfills their expectations of a divinely inspired, inerrant Imam.¯ The agencies of the Aga Khan Foundation have largely succeeded in improving the lives of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı communities and building a global Nizar¯ ¯ı Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı identity. In the process, however, they have also generated some tension, especially along ethnic and racial lines. Khoja dominance in the highest levels of the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı institutional structure is resented by local non-Khoja populations. They are especially resistant to attempts at imposing institutions (e.g., the jama‘at¯ khana¯ ) developed in the Indian context to regions historically governed by indigenous structures. In such cases, the Aga Khan functions as a final arbiter drawing on his theoretically absolute authority over all political and religious matters.

C. The Promotion of “Modern” Values There are two primary ways to interpret the Aga Khans’ engagement with “modernity.” The first attributes this engagement to the influence (or absorption) of European values, and the second emphasizes its success at creating a distinctively Muslim sense of the “modern.” The discussion that follows inclines toward the former (influence/absorption) while

 Steinberg, Modern, .  This section’s discussion of Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ılism and modern values draws on Steinberg, Modern, – and –, which argues for the Aga Khans’ creation of a Muslim modernity. A similar perspective is found in Karim, “At the Interstices,” –. The section also utilizes parts of van Grondelle, The Ismailis, –, whose (often polemical) analysis highlights the Aga Khans’ complicity with colonial power. The discussion on gender is indebted to Kassam, “Gender,” –. See also Khoja-Moolji, “Redeﬁning Muslim Women,” –.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:10:07, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.017 (Nizar¯ ¯ı) Isma‘¯ ¯ılism Reconstituted  acknowledging the plausibility of the latter (Muslim modernity). Interested readers are directed to the end of the chapter for references to works that explore these perspectives in greater detail. Aga Khan III and Aga Khan IV spent most of their lives in Europe and North America. They supervised the transfer of the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı Imamate¯ from India to France. Indeed, European influence appears to pervade the ideological mission of most of the transnational Nizar¯ ¯ı institutions described earlier. The promotion of concepts such as “progress,” “liberal- ism,” and “secularism” creates a global perception of Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs as “modern” Muslims. This section concentrates on two ideas representative of the broad Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı embrace of “modernity”: free-market capitalism and gender. It ends with a discussion of the apparent disjuncture between the values expounded by Nizar¯ ¯ı global institutions and the inherently hierarchical nature of the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıImamate.¯ The fundamental philosophy that underlies the Aga Khan’s development program is a wholesale embrace of free-market capitalism. This is, perhaps, a consequence of the geographic dispersal of Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıcom- munities across a number of nation-states, which allows the Aga Khan to connect villages and regions through trade networks that transcend national sovereignty. Regardless of the cause, free-market capitalist ideas inform most of the Aga Khan’s projects. The AKDN offers loans for the development of the tourism industry. This includes the building and administration of luxury hotels to draw visitors to Tanzania, Kenya, and the Himalayas. It also finances the production and marketing of indigenous crafts, which provide income to poor populations, empower women, and attract tourists. In the area of agriculture, the AKDN invests in the improvement of irrigation infrastructure and promotes ecologically sus- tainable practices to preserve and restore soil productivity. There are also extensive projects for reforestation in areas devastated by human exploitation and natural disasters. The capitalist dimensions of these projects are reflected in their emphasis on global commerce. As early as the s, Aga Khan III sent a business envoy to Syrian Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı agricultural villages to organize them and secure new international markets for their cotton crop. More recent efforts involve the development of a transportation infrastructure of roads and airports to connect isolated Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı regions to national and international hubs. In addition to facilitating tourism, these connections provide local farmers and herders with access to global markets for their products. They also foster subsidiary agricultural industries (also financed by the AKDN)

 Van Grondelle, The Ismailis, –.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:10:07, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.017  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam such as the manufacture of artisanal jams and handwoven clothing. Having established an international market for these goods, the AKDN encourages an explicit “branding” of local culture. In other words, “they take a trope of local culture, simplify or polish it for mass production, and thus create a new form of representation of indigenous societies. In this way, programs . . . encourage local people to consider what images of themselves they would like to publicize.” This form of marketing treats culture as a commodity that competes for ﬁnancial resources on a global scale. The material improvement of these once marginal communities legitimizes the free-market capitalist approach embedded in these initiatives. The emphasis on gender equity in the policies of Aga Khans III and IV dates back to the early twentieth century. The public speeches of Aga Khan III highlighted the beneﬁts of bestowing equal citizenship on women. In the years before Indian independence, he argued for female enfranchise- ment, observing that a political assembly to which “women had contributed would keep nearer to the facts and needs of life, the real and actual in the country, than one selected by men alone.” India would never be accepted in the international system “until the broad principle of equality between the sexes [had] been generally accepted by her people.” On another occasion, Aga Khan III rejected the practice of h. ijab¯ (the head covering), describing it as an innovation introduced after the death of the Prophet. As the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıImam,¯ he was also able to promote gender equality through the reinterpretation of Qur’anic¯ passages. In one edict (farman¯ ), he expanded the Qur’anic¯ concept of mah. ram (Q:), traditionally interpreted as restricting a woman’s social interactions to her immediate family, to include “all men within a woman’s sphere of activity.” This had the practical effect of abolishing gender segregation in public settings. Finally, Aga Khan III renounced cultural practices (mostly in Khoja communities) that disempowered women, such as infant marriages, social prohibitions on the remarriage of divorcees and widows, and the payment of large dowries. The gender policies articulated by Aga Khan III are embedded in the institutional structure surrounding Aga Khan IV. The most obvious examples are the Women’s Organizations (WOs) established through the

 Steinberg, Modern, . Although I cite Steinberg’s work in the course of my argument, his position differs from mine in important ways. As mentioned in note , Steinberg interprets the Aga Khans’ development efforts as part of a project to create a distinctive Muslim modernity.  Kassam, “Gender,” .  Kassam, “Gender,” .  Kassam, “Gender,” .  Kassam, “Gender,” .

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:10:07, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.017 (Nizar¯ ¯ı) Isma‘¯ ¯ılism Reconstituted  AKDN, in which “women meet in a decision-making council to plan projects that are generally meant to assist them.” In addition to these councils, gender plays a central role in the mission statements of most AKDN initiatives. This is actualized in social programs that focus on securing educational resources for girls and providing basic health care for women in underserved regions. A substantial amount of microfi- nance funds are also directed toward industries traditionally dominated by women – most prominently, the production of local crafts. These services are intended to provide women with a substantial degree of financial independence. Their scope, however, is partially circumscribed by local cultural constraints and national laws, so that the kinds of programs acceptable in Canada often face significant opposition in Iran or Pakistan. The developmental efforts of the Aga Khans explicitly present the Nizar¯ ¯ı Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs as “modern” Muslims who have embraced progressive values. Such a reading, however, overlooks the concentration of authority in the figure of the Imam,¯ who can, at his personal discretion, order a policy reversal. The Aga Khans’ promotion of political participation is restricted to the national context, whereas the current Imam¯ retains an absolute claim on the personal obedience of his followers. Although the present constitution features a formal structure for governance that empowers local communities, it also gives final decision-making authority to the Imam.¯ In this respect, the classical Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı institution of the Imamate¯ (as outlined in Chapter ) persists into the modern period, with a lineal descendant of ‘Al¯ı functioning as an inerrant interpreter of religious law. Overall, the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs are best described as a hierarchical religious community with a leader whose current interpretations of religious texts favor progressive values. The community remains bound to a classical institution (the Imamate),¯ even as it is increasingly associated with “modern” values.

D. A Transnational Religious State The Aga Khan’s development network functions as a de facto nonterritorial state on the model of some previous Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı political formations. The Aga Khan was transformed from a regional into a global ﬁgure with the expansion of the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community beyond colonial India. As early as the s, Aga Khan III intervened for his followers in Uganda and

 Steinberg, Modern, .  The following discussion of the transnational dimensions of Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ılism draws primarily on Steinberg, Modern, – and –.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:10:07, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.017  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam Oman, with mixed results. These early attempts were constrained by his dependence on British colonial support. Aga Khan IV had far more leverage, as reflected in his successful effort to organize the migration of Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı families out of South Africa in . In subsequent years, he made similar interventions on behalf of the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community of Uganda (again) and stateless Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı children in East Africa. Regardless of the outcome, these efforts reflected the Aga Khan’s claims to represent his followers on the international stage. The expansion of the Aga Khans’ institutional apparatus in the last half-century has challenged conventional assumptions about the nature of international actors. The AKDN is not simply a nongovernmental organization that fosters development in rural and underserved areas. Rather, it is a religious organization led by an Imam¯ who commands the loyal- ties of populations resident in scattered nation-states. The constitution that governs the community states that individuals must obey national laws, but such a provision only reinforces the implicit authority of the Imam.¯ AKDN development projects also challenge national sovereignty by providing services that are traditionally under the purview of a central government, such as roads, schools, and health care. In some areas, the AKDN functions as the de facto government, provoking significant dis- comfort and resistance from nation-states. The AKDN’s influence often depends on the strength of national governments. Regions with little central control (e.g., Afghanistan) offer more opportunities than do areas with strong governmental institutions (e.g., China). The Aga Khan oversees this transnational institutional structure from Aiglemont in France. He determines policy and sets goals that filter down to every branch of operations. International coordination is directed by a diplomatic wing responsible for “the facilitation of extensive treaties, accords, agreements, and negotiations in which the signatories are usually the [Aga] Khan and a nation-state.” In other words, the Aga Khan utilizes a diplomatic office to coordinate the affairs of a community that lacks a territorial state. There are certainly nonstate actors who negotiate with governments (e.g., corporations), but the theological basis of his authority sets the Aga Khan apart.

 Van Grondelle, The Ismailis, – and –.  Van Grondelle, The Ismailis, –.  Van Grondelle, The Ismailis, –.  Steinberg, Modern, .  In some respects, the closest parallel to the Aga Khan might be the Dalai Lama, who also administers a nonterritorial religious state.

iii. final thoughts According to contemporary Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı sources, the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıImams¯ remained in Iran after the fall of Alamut in , often disguising themselves as heads of a Sufi order. They emerged from a state of precautionary dissimulation (taqiyya) in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries to play an important role in the political struggles that gripped the region following the fall of the Safavid dynasty. In the aftermath of two failed rebellions, Aga Khan I (who claimed the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı Imamate)¯ fled to Afghanistan, where he developed close ties with the British. In , the Aga Khan settled in Bombay, which was home to a large Khoja community. The Khojas were a trading caste whose religious beliefs appeared to mix Muslim and Hindu elements. They had a history of honoring the Nizar¯ ¯ıImams¯ in Iran as spiritual leaders and providing them with monetary gifts. The presence of the Aga Khan, however, caused significant tensions within a Khoja leadership that was accustomed to administering its own affairs. These tensions culminated in  when a British high court ruled that (i) the Khojas were Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıSh¯ı‘¯ıMuslims and (ii) the Aga Khan was their legitimate Imam.¯ The judgment effectively legitimized a reconstitution of Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ılism under the leadership of the Aga Khan.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:10:07, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.017  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam Over the next century and a half, the authority of the Aga Khans spread to diasporic Khoja communities in East Africa and the Indian Ocean rim. It also acquired a transnational dimension as the Aga Khans intervened on a global scale on behalf of their followers in times of crisis. The twentieth century witnessed a further extension of this authority through a transnational global network that serviced historically Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı regions in the Himalayas, Syria, and Iran. The resulting complex of institutions fostered a communal unity among diverse Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı populations. It also allowed the Aga Khans to promote a set of “modern” values while homogenizing religious belief through formal legal decrees. The Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ılism of the Aga Khans is best characterized as the modern manifestation of a classical theological system with an institutional apparatus derived from contemporary forms of international organization. It is worth reiterating the Aga Khan’s debt to the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı doctrine of the Imamate.¯ Recall that after the fall of the Fat¯.imid dynasty and the rise of the Nizar¯ ¯ıImams¯ of Alamut, the Imamwaselevatedtoalevelof¯ unquestionable authority through a new emphasis on his interpretative powers. This enabled him to offer innovative religious interpretations that broke sharply with the past. Thus one Imam¯ could declare that the qiyama¯ (the end of the world so that Islamic law was no longer operative) had taken place, and another could adopt Sunn¯ı beliefs and practices. When the Aga Khans emerged in the nineteenth century, they drew on this unbounded interpretive authority to recast Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ılism as a “modern” version of Islam in line with ideas such as free-market capitalism and gender equality. Rather than representing a break from classical theology, such a reformulation is in perfect accord with the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıdoctrineoftheImamate.¯ The unlimited scope of the Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıImam’s¯ authority allows the Aga Khans both to infuse a new set of values into Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı belief and to reconﬁgure the community into a transnational network of believers. The contemporary world provides a new set of conditions for which the Imam¯ provides relevant interpretations.

 It is worth noting that there is little formal opposition to the Imam¯ among Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs. There are certainly tensions between different ethnic groups and some disenchantment with religious interpretations, but the Aga Khan is the final, definitive authority in all religious and political matters. It is not possible to remain within the community without acknowledging his status as the Imam.¯ This differs from the T. ayyib¯ıMusta‘l¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı community, which has been led since the twelfth century by a “Da‘¯ ¯ı,” who serves as the Imam’s¯ representative. Multiple dissident T. ayyib¯ı movements have challenged the Da‘¯ ¯ı on financial and religious matters. This kind of opposition is made possible by the fact that the Da‘¯ ¯ı lacks the Imam’s¯ infallibity.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. New York University Libraries, on 14 Dec 2016 at 16:10:07, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.017 (Nizar¯ ¯ı) Isma‘¯ ¯ılism Reconstituted  suggested readings for further study The following works focus on the Aga Khan’s move from Iran to India and his interactions with the Khoja community: Ali Asani, “From Satpanthi to Ismaili Muslim: The Articulation of Ismaili Khoja Identity in South Asia,” in A Modern History of the Ismailis, ed. Farhad Daftary (London: I. B. Tauris, ), –. Ali Asani, “The Khojas of South Asia: Defining a Space of Their Own,” Cultural Dynamics  (): –. Farhad Daftary, The Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ıs: Their History and Doctrines (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –. Nile Green, Bombay Islam (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), especially –. The following works examine the court case of  that formally defined Khoja identity as Isma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı: Teena Purohit, The Aga Khan Case (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ). Amrita Shodhan, A Question of Community (Calcutta: Samya, ). For an analysis of the diplomatic correspondence between the Aga Khans and the British government from the colonial perspective, see Marc van Grondelle, The Ismailis in the Colonial Era (London: Hurst, ). For the perspective of Aga Khan III on most of the subjects discussed in this chapter, see Aga Khan III: Selected Speeches and Writings of Sir Sultan Muhammod Shah, ed.K.K.Aziz(NewYork:KeganPaul,). The following works discuss the institutional network of the Aga Khan: Stefano Bianca, “Caring for the Built Environment,” in A Modern History of the Ismailis, ed. Farhad Daftary (London: I. B. Tauris, ), –. Zayn Kassam, “The Gender Policies of Aga Khan III and Aga Khan IV,” in A Modern History of the Ismailis,ed.FarhadDaftary(London:I.B.Tauris,), –. Malise Ruthven, “The Aga Khan Development Network and Institutions,” in A Modern History of the Ismailis,ed.FarhadDaftary(London:I.B.Tauris,), –. Jonah Steinberg, Isma‘ili Modern (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, ). For a broad analysis of the gender policies of Aga Khan III, see Shenila Khoja- Moolji, “Redefining Muslim Women,” South Asia Graduate Research Journal  (): –. The text of the Nizar¯ ¯ıIsma‘¯ ¯ıl¯ı Constitution of  is accessible at http://ismaili .net/Source/extra.html.

The contemporary Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı community is characterized by a politicized outlook that contrasts sharply with its tradition of quietism and disengagement. There is a risk of delving too deeply into the intricacies of political history when discussing modern Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. An adequate study of Hezbollah (the Party of God), for example, would require a detailed investigation of the local power structures, history, and demographics of Lebanon. Such an analysis lies outside the scope of this book, but resources are provided at the end of the chapter for readers interested in the Sh¯ı‘¯ı communities of Iran, Iraq, and Lebanon. The current chapter examines two topics that embody the politicization of Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. The ﬁrst involves changes in the seminal narrative of H. usayn’s martyrdom in Kar- bala as represented in the speeches and writings of Ali Shariati (d. ). The second focuses on the political career and written works of Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini (d. ).

i. ali shariati’s red sh¯ı‘ism Chapter  documented the evolution of ‘Ash¯ ur¯ a’¯ commemorations in Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism beginning in the eighth century and extending through the Safavid and Qajar periods. Both the Safavids and the Qajars promoted a narrative permeated with supernatural elements to evoke emotional responses in an audience. H. usayn Va‘iz. Kashif¯ ¯ı(d.) recorded the first and most influential of such narratives in his Rawzat˙ al-shuhada¯ (The Garden of the Martyrs), a work written in Persian and interspersed with Qur’anic¯ passages and poetry. Kashif¯ ¯ı structured his account in historical terms beginning with Adam and then proceeding through the Prophets and the Imams.¯ Each of these figures had experienced varying degrees of suffering as a result of oppression and tyranny. The events at Karbala were the natural culmination of an established historical pattern.



In the camp, meanwhile, Zaynab [Ruqayya’s] aunt and Kulsum [Ruqayya’s] sister were discussing their sad condition when suddenly they saw a black apparition in the moonlight. It was the spirit of ‘Al¯ı, their father, who was watching over his daughters. Frightened, Zaynab asked the ghost for his name, saying firmly: “Unless you tell me what your name is, stay where you are, come not near to us, the daughters of ‘Al¯ı, the hero of Islam. Have respect for us who are bereaved of our brother.” ‘Al¯ı’s ghost then revealed himself and spoke consoling words to the poor weeping women of his household, admonishing them to have patience, and to pray during the night, “that all those who belong to my Sh¯ı‘a may drink the sweet waters of paradise on the Day of Judgment. More trials are awaiting you.” Zaynab replied firmly: “If it is for the salvation of your followers, father, for God’s chosen people, I will endure suffering like a bird being burned by the fire, even if they make me ride a camel without a litter!” Little did she know the disgrace that was awaiting her. The lesson of Karbala was not to rise up and overthrow a tyrant but rather to mourn the murder of the family of the Prophet as a means of attaining salvation in the next world. The Safavids and the Qajars supported Kashif¯ ¯ı’s narrative because it “stressed the inappropriateness of active political mobilization in the face of political injustice” during the absence of the hidden Imam.¯  When the Imam¯ returned, he would avenge the fallen in Karbala. Until then, the Twelver community was instructed to preserve their memory in annual commemorations. The victims of Karbala were described in almost supernatural terms well beyond the reach of most believers. It was possible to weep for H. usayn and to marvel at his strength in the face of certain death,

 Aghaie, Martyrs, .  Rippen and Knappert, Sources, .  For more examples or a quick reminder of the tone of this narrative, see Chapter .  Aghaie, Martyrs, .

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Toronto, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:48:53, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.018  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam but it was not possible to empathize with him given his unfathomable patience. Kashif¯ ¯ı’s narrative of Karbala was dominant from the sixteenth through the early twentieth centuries. Governmental patronage supported increasingly elaborate commemorations that evolved from theatrical readings to full reenactment (see Chapter ), but the image of H. usayn and his followers as exemplars of suffering remained ﬁrmly in place. In the s, some religious scholars tried to politicize the Karbala narrative, but their attempts met staunch opposition from within the juristic ranks. S.alih¯ .¯ıNajafab¯ ad¯ ¯ı ¯ (d. ), for example, offered a rendition of ‘Ashur¯ a’¯ that denied H. usayn’s foreknowledge of his death. He also claimed that the Imam¯ had intended to overthrow Yaz¯ıd and establish a just government. In doing so, H. usayn hoped to inspire the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a to rebel against corrupt and unjust rulers. Najafab¯ ad¯ ¯ı was criticized for his rejection of a number of seminal Twelver beliefs, particularly his restriction of the scope of the Imam’s¯ knowledge. The few scholars who came to his defense constituted only a small minority of the larger Twelver religious establishment. The ﬁgure most responsible for popularizing a politicized narrative of Karbala was not a religious scholar but a sociologist. Ali Shariati was born in  in the Iranian province of Khuras¯ an.Hecamefromafamily¯ of religious scholars with slightly unorthodox views and was politically active in the democratic movement in Iran in the s. Breaking with family tradition, Shariati chose to pursue a secular education. He received his bachelor’s and master’s degrees from the University of Mashhad and traveled to France in  for advanced graduate studies. In ,he was awarded a doctorate in sociology and returned to Iran, where he was immediately arrested and imprisoned for six months for his participation in revolutionary activities overseas. After his release, Shariati took a teaching position in Mashhad before moving in  to Tehran, where he accepted a permanent post at the H. usayniyyih-i Irshad,¯ an antigovernment center for religious activities. Along with other scholars of a similar inclination (e.g., Murtaz˙a¯ Mutahhar¯ı, Mah. mud¯ T. aliq¯ an¯ ¯ı), Shariati used the H. usayniyyih as a platform to propagate a religious message that was critical of the government. This led to a second arrest in . Shariati remained in

 An exception to this generalization is found in the nineteenth-century Bab¯ ¯ı movement, which was centered in the Sh¯ı‘¯ı shrine cities of Iraq. The Bab¯ ¯ıs placed themselves in the position of H. usayn and his followers in opposition to the tyranny of the Qajar dynasty. In other words, they politicized the Karbala narrative much earlier than twentieth-century Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars. For more on the Bab¯ ¯ı movement and its use of Karbala and H. usayn, see Denis MacEoin, “The Babi Concept of Holy War,” Religion  (): –.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Toronto, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:48:53, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.018 The Politicization of the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a  prison until March  when he was released and allowed to leave for the United Kingdom. He died of a heart attack three weeks later. To understand Shariati’s reformulation of the Karbala narrative, it is first necessary to travel back to France in the late s. One of the central conflicts of the period was the Algerian Revolution (–), which pitted the National Liberation Front (FLN) against French colonial forces. The war was closely associated with Third Worldism, a political movement that championed liberation struggles in colonial settings throughout the world. In Paris, Shariati worked with the FLN and was exposed to the writings of its leading ideologue, Frantz Fanon. Although the two never met, Shariati translated some of Fanon’s work into Persian and introduced his ideas to members of the Iranian opposition. Fanon was born in the French colony of Martinique in . He fought in the French military during World War II before moving to France, where he earned a degree in psychiatry in .In, he traveled to Algeria, where he served as the chief of staff for the Blida-Joinville Hospital. After the outbreak of the revolution in , Fanon joined the FLN. He resigned from his hospital post in  to devote his time exclusively to the war effort. France expelled him from Algeria in , and he fled to Tunisia and then Ghana, where he continued working for the FLN. He was diagnosed with leukemia in  and died in the United States, where he had come for treatment, in . The most influential of Fanon’s writings was The Wretched of the Earth (), and it is here that we can begin to discern his influence on Shariati. Published shortly before his death, Wretched examines the impact of colonization on the psychology of the colonized. Much of the book documents the ways in which colonial violence distorts and destroys indigenous cul- tures, marginalizing local art forms and empowering a sycophantic governing elite. In a chapter titled “On National Culture,” Fanon documents a process through which colonized intellectuals come to realize their bond with the people and help in the fight for national liberation. In the last stage of this development, intellectuals are charged with rallying the population against the colonial oppressor. They reimagine native artistic forms such as songs and folklore to make them relevant to the revolutionary struggle. It is through this process that a society reappropriates its cultural legacy and creates a new national culture. In Fanon’s words:

At another level, oral literature, tales, epics, and popular songs, previously classiﬁed and frozen in time, begin to change. The storytellers who recited inert episodes revive them and introduce increasingly fundamental changes. There

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Toronto, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:48:53, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.018  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam are attempts to update battles and modernize the types of struggles, the heroes’ names, and the weapons used. The method of allusion is increasingly used. Instead of “a long time ago,” they substitute the more ambiguous expression “What I am going to tell you happened somewhere else, but it could happen here today or perhaps tomorrow.” In this respect the case of Algeria is signiﬁcant. From – on, its storytellers, grown stale and dull, radically changed both their methods of narration and the content of their stories. Once scarce, the public returned in droves. The epic, with its standardized forms, reemerged. It has become an authentic form of entertainment that once again has taken on a cultural value. Colonialism knew full well what it was doing when it began systematically arresting these storytellers after . Whereas Fanon spoke of folk songs and national epics, Shariati chose to focus on a religious narrative – namely, that of H. usayn in Karbala. In a series of speeches beginning in the late s, Shariati presented a fundamentally reworked account of Karbala intended to rally the Iranian population against the Shah. Shariati frames his narrative as a historical strugglebetweentheforcesofgoodandevil.H. usayn and the family of the Prophet are the primary guardians of truth and justice, ﬁghting the encroaching forces of an authoritarian opposition led by the Umayyad dynasty. Shariati describes the dilemma faced by H. usayn in the following terms:

Imam Husayn, as a responsible leader, sees that if he remains silent, Islam will change into a mere civil religion. Islam will be changed into a military-economic power and nothing more. Islam will become as other regimes and powers. When their power diminishes, when their army and government are destroyed, nothing will remain. It will be nothing more than a memory in history, an accident which occurred in the past and has ended. It is for this reason that Imam Husayn now stands between two inabilities. He can neither remain silent nor can he ﬁght. He cannot remain silent because time and opportunity are passing. Everything is being destroyed, abolished in the minds and deep consciences of the people – feelings, thoughts, aspirations, meanings, ideals – everything broughtbythemessageofMuhammad,everythingaboutIslam....Allofthe others are obeying the ruling power. They are being deceived. The present atmosphere is one of complete silence, quivering, and surrender. He cannot remain silent because he has a duty to ﬁght against oppression.

H. usayn acts to prevent Islam from being co-opted by an oppressive ruling dynasty. This is not a personal choice but a duty incumbent on him as Imam.¯

 Fanon, Wretched, .  Shariati, “Shahadat,”¯ –.

In a later passage, Shariati returns to the difﬁcult situation facing H. usayn, noting both his material weakness and his determination to take up arms against the corrupting inﬂuence of the Umayyads:

Husayn must fight, but he cannot. How strange! He must and yet his is unable. This responsibility is the burden of his conscience. It results from ‘being Husayn’ not from his ‘ability.’ He is still Husayn – alone, unable, unarmed, helpless. What should he do? ‘Being Husayn’ calls him to fight but he has no arms to fight with, and yet he still has the duty to fight. All of the supporters of wisdom and religion, advisors of tradition and common law, those who recommend goodness and logic, all unanimously say, “No!” But Husayn wants to say “Yes.” He leaves Medina for this purpose. He comes to Mecca to announce his unique answer to all Muslims who have gathered there for the H. ajj. He leaves Mecca [for Kufa] to reply to the question, “What is to be done?” The question exists in this important moment of history in which the fate of the people and of Islam is to be determined. At this moment everything has collapsed. The only answer to the question is jihad¯ , which Shariati defines as a military movement in favor of justice and against tyranny. Twelver scholars, however, propose other answers, and it is here that Shariati finds space to criticize previous iterations of the Karbala narrative. In particular, he attacks those who advocate political disengagement:

The fatalists say, “Nothing.” Whatever has occurred will continue to occur in accordance with divine wisdom and divine profundity. God wishes it to be this way. You must be satisﬁed with what has been given to you and be grateful for it, because you are not allowed to freely decide your fate. They say that it is true that there is crime, oppression, and the usurpation of rights. . . . But what can be done? A leaf does not fall from a tree unless God so wills. God has so wished. This is how his wisdom rules. No one can protest, criticize, or even say why it is so. Everyone is subject to his or her fate. Everything that occurs, good or bad, is determined by eternal fate and is in accordance with the Qur’an.¯  The parallels between the fatalists and those Twelver scholars who frame H. usayn’s death as the preordained will of God are fairly straightforward. Shariati emphasizes H. usayn’s volition in Karbala and rejects depictions that cast him as an actor following a divine script. Shariati’s version of the events at Karbala also replaces vivid physical description with broad discussions about principle and motive. Rather than vessels for personal suffering, ﬁgures such as Zaynab (H. usayn’s sister) or al-‘Abbas¯ (H. usayn’s half-brother) are associated with virtues such

 Shariati, “Shahadat,”¯ .  Shariati, “Shahadat,”¯ –.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Toronto, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:48:53, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.018  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam as courage and loyalty. Shariati is particularly angered by the “school of mourning” that encourages believers to “remember it [‘Ash¯ ur¯ a’]¯ and weep forit...withoutknowing,understanding,orconsideringit.” In a telling passage, he describes this perspective as follows:

Thepopularnotion...saysthatthemartyrsarosetogetkilled rather than to struggle against the government. Husayn rose to sacriﬁce himself for the communityandfortheintercession...onbehalfoftheloversofthefamilyof the Prophet (who commit great sins) in order to transform their evil deeds into good deeds on the judgment day. According to this view, Husayn had made a covenant in the world of pre-creation to become a martyr. This is the same as the Christian view, according to which Christ sacriﬁced himself for humanity....Thisviewisamostskillful trick which, while preserving the greatness and glory of Husayn, makes his martyrdom meaningless, empty and without content. It makes it nothing; but at the same time it acquits Husayn’s executioners, because the executioners acted not on their own initiative but according to the will of God because this fate had been determined before creation. Thus they were the means of executing the will of God. . . . It misrepresents the goal of shahadat [martyrdom] which was a struggle against the powers of transgression and usurpation, as a struggle against no one and nothing.

For Shariati, the quietist interpretation of Karbala neutralizes H. usayn’s central message of standing up to political oppression even if there is little hope of victory. In order to inspire revolution, H. usayn must be more than an unattainable symbol of suffering. He must be a ﬁgure with whom people can empathize and whose behavior can serve as a model for action. Fanon’s framework requires that he be transformed from a hero of the distant past to a revolutionary of the contemporary world. Shariati seeks this end by removing most of the supernatural elements in Kashef¯ ¯ı’s account:

Suddenly a spark appears in the darkness and bursts into ﬂame! The radiant visage of a “martyr who walks alive upon the earth.” From the depths of darkness, the immense corruptions and obscure nights of despair, the light and powerful feature of “a hope” is seen. Once more from the silent and sorrowful house of Fatima, the little house which is greater than the whole of history, a man emerges – angry, determined, in a state of rebellion against all of the palaces of cruelty and fronts of power. He is as a mountain which holds a volcano within it.

 Shariati, “Shahadat,”¯ .  Shariati, “Shahadat,”¯ .  Shariati, “Shahadat,”¯ .

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Toronto, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:48:53, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.018 The Politicization of the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a  Here, there are no animated corpses, no armies of beasts offering to help H. usayn, and no apparitions consoling the survivors. In their place, H. usayn and his family are described as virtuous idealists unable to sit still in the face of injustice. Their position is not so different from that of Iranians under the Shah’s autocratic rule in the sands. H. usayn is not motivated by knowledge of the unseen but by the reality of the world around him. He does not die in a spectacular cosmic catastrophe but in a struggle for a just cause. Shariati labeled the fatalist/mourning narrative “Black Sh¯ı‘ism” and positioned it against an activist “Red Sh¯ı‘ism” that better represented historical reality and religious truth. Black Sh¯ı‘ism was produced by the complicity of Twelver religious scholars with the Safavid Shahs. In an effort to quell political opposition, they fostered a distorted version of H. usayn’s rebellion that obscured its activist elements and counseled a silent endurance of political oppression. Shariati’s Red Sh¯ı‘ism was a return to the original message of Karbala that encouraged an active and direct confrontation with tyranny. Whereas Black Sh¯ı‘ism emphasized that the hidden Imam¯ would avenge the death of H. usayn, Red Sh¯ı‘ism placed the responsibility directly on the shoulders of the Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ıcommunity. In his reformulation of the Karbala narrative, Shariati was following the directives of Fanon. He was taking a story embedded in the common experiences of the Iranian population and transforming it into a call for action. The characters were no longer mythical ﬁgures from a distant past but contemporary ones whose experiences were relevant in modern Iran. This sentiment was summarized in the slogan “Every day is ‘Ash¯ ur¯ a’.¯ Every land is Karbala.” The purpose was to produce a narrative that inspired revolution and thereby create a new sense of nationhood. Whereas Fanon felt this was a secular project, Shariati demonstrated that, in the Iranian context, it required a foray into religious discourse. By all accounts, Shariati held deep religious convictions, and his use of Karbala was not entirely grounded in political expediency. His narrative, however, incorporated overtly Marxist inﬂuences that aroused the suspicion of religious scholars. These scholars were also concerned with his categorical dismissal of intercession and his limiting of the scope of the Imam’s¯ knowledge. Shariati’s speeches and writings gained popular currency in Iran, but they did not win over the juristic establishment. The Karbala narrative’s potential, however, caught the attention of a number of religious scholars. The

 The use of the term “red” also suggested Shariati’s Marxist worldview, but that is a topic that extends far beyond the scope of the current study.

most important of these was Murtad.a¯ Mutahhar¯ı(d.). A close asso- ciate of Ruhollah Khomeini and a leading figure in the Iranian Revolution, Mutahhar¯ı authored a version of the Karbala narrative that accommodated both mourning and activism. He argued that the traditional interpretation of Karbala had placed undue emphasis on tragic elements to the neglect of its larger message of opposition to injustice. H. usayn was both a transcen- dent religious figure and an inspiration for contemporary political activism. It was Mutahhar¯ı’s version of Karbala that ultimately won acceptance in scholarly circles and helped mobilize the Iranian population against the Shah. In the sands, the activist narrative of Karbala spread throughout the global Sh¯ı‘¯ı community. In Lebanon, the politicization of the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a in the s was accompanied by a growth in overtly political public commemorations of Karbala. H. usayn and his fellow martyrs are still routinely featured in memorials for local men who die in battle. For contemporary Lebanese Twelver women, Zaynab, H. usayn’s sister who guided the survivors after ‘Ash¯ ur¯ a’,¯ serves as a model for female leadership and fortitude in the face of hardship. A similar politicization of Karbala is found in Sh¯ı‘¯ı communities from Iraq and Pakistan to the United States. In many of these places, the Karbala narrative legitimizes political activities such as voting, grassroots organizing, and lobbying efforts. This activist narrative exists side by side with the traditional narrative of suffering, mourning, and redemption. It is not rare to find elements of both in a single sermon.

ii. ruhollah khomeini’s rule of jurist The Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı community, at the start of the twentieth century, was led by a group of jurists invested in rational legal methods and increasingly willing to exercise political power. The establishment of the Qajar dynasty ¯ in Iran under AghaMuh¯ . ammad Khan¯ (r. –) had removed much of their state competition. The Qajars claimed to be kings and predicated their legitimacy on the justice of their rule and their role as the guardians of Sh¯ı‘ism. In contrast to the Safavids, they did not claim to represent the hidden Imam.¯ As mentioned in Chapter , Twelver scholars had gradually developed a religious hierarchy headed by a “source of emulation,” theoretically the most learned jurist of the time. The ﬁrst scholar to effectively occupy this position was Murtaz˙a¯ al-Ans.ar¯ ¯ı, who rarely intervened in the political sphere. After al-Ans.ar¯ ¯ı’s death in , a number of scholars vied to succeed him as the community’s sole “source of emulation.” One of the leading

candidates was Muh. ammad H. asan (commonly known as M¯ırza)¯ al-Sh¯ıraz¯ ¯ı (d. ), an Iranian scholar who had studied in Isfahan and then in Najaf (under al-Ans.ar¯ ¯ı) before settling in the northern Iraqi shrine city of Samarra. Although he did not originally garner the same degree of unanimity as al-Ans.ar¯ ¯ı, al-Sh¯ıraz¯ ¯ı had built a considerable following by the s. In ,al-Sh¯ıraz¯ ¯ı demonstrated the potential political power of Twelver jurists (and particularly a hierarchy headed by a single jurist) in a rapidly changing modern world. The crisis began when Nas¯.ir al-D¯ın Shah¯ (r. –) granted the Imperial Tobacco Company a “concession” over the Iranian tobacco market. In exchange for an annual payment of £,,the company acquired the right to buy all Iranian tobacco at prices determined through compulsory arbitration. This prompted a wide public outcry in Iran as it became clear that a foreign company would be buying Iranian tobacco and then selling it back to Iranian consumers. As protests spread, the religious scholars emerged as a key segment of the opposition. This may have been partially motivated by their personal economic interests and their close ties with the merchant class. The final and definitive voice against the concession, however, came from al-Sh¯ıraz¯ ¯ı, who in  issued the following statement from his home in Samarra: “In the name of God, the Merciful, the Beneficent. Today the use of both varieties of tobacco, in whatever fashion, is tantamount to waragainsttheImam¯ of the Age – may God hasten his advent.” This religious ruling (fatwa¯) spread through Iran and galvanized opposition. The Shah revoked the concession in January ,afterwhichal-Sh¯ıraz¯ ¯ı issued a second statement that once again permitted the use of tobacco. The incident demonstrated the latent power embedded in the office of the “source of emulation.” Here was a figure with the potential to unify religious authority and speak as the representative of the hidden Imam.¯ After al-Sh¯ıraz¯ ¯ı’s death in , some Twelver jurists continued to play an active role in Iranian politics. They participated in the Iranian Con- stitutional Revolution of  and joined protests against British colonial intervention in Iraq. They were also important figures in the political upheavals that culminated in the fall of the Qajar Dynasty and the rise of Reza Shah Pahlavi in . The dominant view of most Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı jurists of this period, however, was one of political disengagement. This

 Mottahedeh, Mantle, –. This is Mottahedeh’s translation, and the larger account is also drawn from his work.  With the exception of a brief period of constitutional rule (–), Iran was ruled from  through  by Reza Pahlavi (r. –) and his son Muhammad Reza Pahlavi (r. –).

tendency was embodied by H. usayn b. ‘Al¯ıal-Burujird¯ ¯ı(d.), the primary “source of emulation” from  to , who repeatedly refused to intervene in the political sphere. Al-Burujird¯ ¯ı’s death left the Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı community split between a number of scholars who claimed to be “sources of emulation.” The most influential of these in the long term was Ruhollah Khomeini (d. ). Born in the town of Khumayn,  miles southwest of Qum, in , Khomeini came from a family of religious scholars who claimed descent from the seventh Twelver Imam¯ Mus¯ aal-K¯ az¯.im. He received a typical religious education before moving to Qum in  to pursue higher studies. In addition to the standard curriculum of a young Twelver scholar, Khomeini displayed an interest in Sufism and philosophy. He refrained from political activism through the s, perhaps in deference to his teacher Ayatollah ‘Abd al-Kar¯ım al-H. a’ir¯ ¯ı(d.), who kept aloof from contemporary politics. In the mid-s, Khomeini began expressing his political views in public. At this point, he did not call for an abolition of the monarchy but rather the elevation of a “just” monarch. This brief political period ended when al-Burujird¯ ¯ı was acknowledged as the singular “source of emulation” for most of the Twelver community. Khomeini emerged as a leading critic of Muhammad Reza Shah Pahlavi after al-Burujird¯ ¯ı’s death in . As a candidate for “source of emulation,” he no longer needed to defer to the apolitical inclinations of other religious scholars. Over the next two years, Khomeini’s criticisms of the Shah grew increasingly more brazen, leading to his arrest in June . He was quickly released from prison but kept under house arrest for ten months in Tehran before being allowed to return to Qum. Tensionserupted again in  after the Shah signed a “status of forces” agreement with the United States that exempted US military personnel and their dependents from prosecution in Iran in exchange for a $ million loan. Khomeini was enraged by this overt surrender of Iranian sovereignty and declared the government illegitimate. In November , he was arrested for a second time and immediately deported to Turkey. A year later, he was sent to Iraq, where he settled in Najaf and remained for the next fourteen years. During this period, Khomeini taught classes and developed his political views about the role of jurists in governance. He also attempted to mitigate conflict with other senior scholars and avoided association with the Iraqi government. His focus remained on Iran, where his speeches and legal rulings were circulated in fliers and cassettes smuggled in by his supporters. The protests that ultimately led to the overthrow of the Shah’s government began in early . The history of the buildup to the revolution

If the ordinances of Islam are to remain in effect, then, if encroachment by oppressive ruling classes on the rights of the weak is to be prevented, if ruling minorities are not to be permitted to plunder and corrupt the people for the sake of pleasure and material interest, if the Islamic order is to be preserved and all individuals are to pursue the just path of Islam without any deviation, if innovation and the approval of anti-Islamic laws by sham parliaments are to be prevented, if the inﬂuence of foreign powers in the Islamic lands is to be destroyed – government is necessary. Once the necessity of a government is established, Khomeini turns to the form of that government. In discussing the issue, he highlights knowledge of the law and justice as the key characteristics of a legitimate leader. The latter is assessed by examining an individual’s actions, but the former requires a special training in Islamic law. If a potential leader lacks legal knowledge, then he must turn to a jurist for help. Given such a dependence, the ideal situation is one in which the jurist is the leader. As Khomeini observes:

Reason also dictates the necessity for these qualities, because Islamic government isagovernmentofthelaw....Iftherulerisunacquaintedwiththecontents

 Khomeini, Islam and Revolution, .

The innovation here is subtle. Whereas the jurists of the Safavid period had assumed government positions through which they administered the law, they did not stake an absolute claim to political leadership. Khomeini, by contrast, offers a largely legalistic deﬁnition of government that by its very nature elevates legal experts (the jurists) to the station of ruler. In his larger argument, Khomeini details textual evidence (i.e., Qur’anic¯ passages and traditions) that suggests jurists are the heirs to the political and juridical authority of the Prophet and the Imams.¯  This authority includes both the administration of the state (e.g., basic governance, tax collection, and defense) and the implementation of Islamic law (e.g., the creation of a just legal system). He stresses that these duties are not suspended during the occultation of the Imam.¯ Rather, they are necessary to the proper functioning of society and fully within the scope of the scholars’ responsibilities. To emphasize this point, Khomeini compares the role of the jurist to that of a guardian appointed by the Imam¯ to manage the affairs of a minor. Although a few isolated voices had previously suggested that Twelver jurists had a right to rule in the name of the Imam,¯ Khomeini’s views were considered a radical break from the past. Even the most activist of Twelver scholars in the Safavid period had hesitated to endorse a de jure (as opposed to de facto) appropriation of political power. Instead, they had claimed to represent the Imam¯ in a more limited manner, lending support to a just ruler in exchange for patronage. Khomeini went one step further by elevating the jurist to the position of head of state. He rejected the idea that all political power was illegitimate in the absence of the Imam.¯ A

 Khomeini, Islam and Revolution, .  The strength of this evidence has been challenged by a number of scholars. See, for example, Mavani, “Analysis,” –.  In this analogy, the minor represents the Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı community, which requires proper guidance in all political and juridical matters.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Toronto, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:48:53, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.018 The Politicization of the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a  government was necessary, and the logical choice for heading a government was the figure with the best understanding of God’s law: the jurist. Khomeini’s vision was integrated into the text of the new Iranian constitution in Articles , ,and (see Table .). These articles placed the jurist at the top of the governmental structure with final authority over most issues. The scope of the jurist’s powers was further extended in  when Khomeini argued that governance was the most important of divine ordinances. This meant that it took precedence even over fundamental religious duties. The head jurist could thus suspend the daily prayer if doing so served the greater interests of the Islamic system. Such a view placed Khomeini far outside the mainstream of the Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholarly tradition. By his death in , Khomeini had implemented his vision of an Islamic state. This did not, however, lead to wide acceptance of his views among other senior Twelver scholars. A few expressed their concerns in public but most remained silent on the “rule of the jurist.” The lack of participation by the leading “sources of emulation” in the Iranian government, however, speaks to reservations about Khomeini’s ideas. Twelver jurists today espouse a variety of opinions regarding political power. Many of these are not easily classified as simply accommodationist or activist. This complexity is particularly apparent in the figure of Ayatollah ‘Al¯ıS¯ıstan¯ ¯ı, a prominent “source of emulation” based in Najaf, Iraq. In the aftermath of the  US invasion of Iraq, commentators have characterized S¯ıstan¯ ¯ı’s actions in disparate ways that range from highly interventionist to overtly quietist. This lack of clear (or consistent) juristic positions suggests that the long- term impact of Khomeini’s ideas remains uncertain.

iii. final thoughts In the fifteenth century, Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism was defined by three primary characteristics: (i) it was built on a theological foundation that was partly derived from Mu‘tazilism, (ii) it used a rationalist legal methodology that was gradually developed by scholars beginning in the tenth century, and (iii) it was quietist and politically disengaged, awaiting the return of the Imam¯ who was the sole legitimate source of religious and political authority. Dur- ing the Safavid period, two of these elements faced significant challenges. First, Akhbar¯ ¯ı scholars criticized the inherent uncertainty of a juristic system predicated on human reason. They were ultimately defeated by Us.ul¯ ¯ı

 For a cogent analysis of these varied positions, see Rizvi, “Political Mobilization.”

Article  During the occultation of the Lord of the Age, the governance and [Office of leadership of the nation devolve upon the just and pious jurist (faq¯ıh) Religious who is acquainted with the circumstances of his age; courageous, Leader] resourceful, and possessed of administrative ability; and recognized and accepted as leader by a majority of the people. In the event of that no jurist should be so recognized by the majority, the leader or leadership council composed of jurists possessing the aforementioned qualifications will assume these responsibilities. [Note: In ,the Constitution was revised, allowing the election of a leader who was not considered superior. This led to the election of Ali Khamenei to the office.] Article  () Following are the essential qualifications and conditions for the [Leadership Leader: Qualifications] (a) Scholarship, as required for performing the functions of religious leader in different fields (b) Justice and piety, as required for the leadership of the Islamic umma (c) Right political and social perspicacity, prudence, courage, administrative facilities, and adequate capability for leadership () In case of a multiplicity of persons fulfilling the above qualifications and conditions, the person possessing the better jurisprudential and political perspicacity will be given preference. Article  () Following are the duties and powers of the Leader: [Leadership . Delineation of the general policies of the Islamic Republic of Duties and Iran after consultation with the Nation’s Exigency Council Powers] . Supervision over the proper execution of the general policies of the system . Issuing decrees for national referenda . Assuming supreme command of the Armed Forces . Declaration of war and peace and the mobilization of the Armed Forces . Appointment, dismissal, and acceptance of resignation of: (a) the religious men on the Guardian Council, (b) the supreme judicial authority of the country, (c) the head of the radio and television network of the Islamic Republic of Iran, (d) the chief of the joint staff, (e) the chief commander of the Islamic Revolution Guards Corps, and (f) the supreme commanders of the Armed Forces

. Resolving differences between the three wings of the Armed Forces and regulation of their relations . Resolving the problems which cannot be solved by conventional methods, through the Nation’s Exigency Council . Signing the decree formalizing the election of the President of the Republic by the people. The suitability of candidates for the Presidency of the Republic, with respect to the qualifications specified in the Constitution, must be confirmed before elections take place by the Guardian Council and, in the case of the first term of a President, by the Leadership. . Dismissal of the President of the Republic, with due regard for the interests of the country, after the Supreme Court holds him guilty of the violation of his constitutional duties, or after a vote of the Islamic Consultative Assembly testifying to his incompetence . Pardoning or reducing the sentences of convicts, within the framework of Islamic criteria, on a recommendation from the head of judicial power () The Leader may delegate part of his duties and powers to another person.

scholars who further entrenched rationalism within Twelver jurisprudence. Second, the Safavids transformed Iran into a Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı nation. In the process, Twelver scholars were made increasingly complicit in political power. The impact of this cooperation was felt in legal rulings as well as governmental patronage of religious festivals. The twentieth century witnessed an acceleration in the politicization of Twelver Sh¯ı‘ism. This tendency was evident in Shariati’s transformation of the narrative of Karbala from an expression of mourning and suffering to one of political empowerment. It was also reﬂected in Khomeini’s vision of a state in which the jurist exercised absolute juridical and political power in the name of the hidden Imam.¯ Although both of these developments have had a profound impact throughout the Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı world, their per- manence remains uncertain. Traditional commemorations of Karbala are still the norm for many Twelver communities, which resist transforming the devotional elements of the narrative into essentially a political ideology. Leading scholars have also expressed reservations about the potential corrupting inﬂuences of direct juristic rule.

suggestions for further reading

The following works focus on Shariati and the evolving narratives of Karbala: Kamran Aghaie, The Martyrs of Karbala (Seattle: University of Washington Press, ), particularly –. Frantz Fanon, The Wretched of the Earth, translated by Richard Philcox (New York: Grove Press, ). Ali Rahnema, An Islamic Utopian: A Political Biography of Ali Shariati (New York: I. B. Tauris, ). Ali Shariati, Red Sh¯ı‘ism, translated by Habib Shirazi (Houston: Free Islamic Literatures, ). Ali Shariati, “Shahadat,”¯ in Jihad¯ and Shahadat¯ , ed. Mehdi Abdi and Gary Legen- hausen (Houston: Institute for Research and Islamic Studies, ). For a general history of modern Iran, including developments within the juristic establishment, see Roy Mottahedeh, The Mantle of the Prophet (New York: Simon and Schuster, ). The text of the Constitution of the Islamic Republic of Iran can be accessed at http://www.iranonline.com/iran/iran-info/government/constitution-.html The following works provide background on Khomeini and his doctrine of the rule of the jurist: Kamran Aghaie, The Martyrs of Karbala (Seattle: University of Washington Press, ), particularly –.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Toronto, on 12 Dec 2016 at 15:48:53, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.018 The Politicization of the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a  Hamid Algar, Imam Khomeini: A Short Biography (n.p.: Institute for Compilation and Publication of Imam Khomeini’s Works, n.d.). Available at http://www .al-islam.org/imambiography. Ruhollah Khomeini, Islam and Revolution, translated by Hamid Algar (Berkeley: Mizan Press, ). Hamid Mavani, “Analysis of Khomeini’s Proofs for al-Wilaya al-Mutlaqa (Com- prehensive Authority) of the Jurist,” in The Most Learned of the Shi‘a, ed. Linda Walbridge (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –. Sajjad Rizvi, “Political Mobilization and the Shi‘i Religious Establishment,” Inter- national Affairs  (): –. Linda Walbridge, ed., The Most Learned of the Shi‘a (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). The following works provide background for the politicization of the Sh¯ı‘a in South Lebanon and the rise of Hezbollah: Lara Deeb, An Enchanted Modern: Gender and Public Piety in Shi‘i Lebanon (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, ). Lara Deeb, “Living ‘Ash¯ ur¯ a’¯ in Lebanon,” Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa, and the Middle East  (): –. Hassan Nasrallah, Voice of Hezbollah: The Statements of Sayed Hassan Nasrallah, translated by Ellen Khouri, ed. Nicholas Noe (New York: Verso, ). Augustus Norton, Hezbollah: A Short History (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, ). The following works discuss the politicization of the Sh¯ı‘a in Iraq: T. M. Aziz, “The Role of Muhammad Baqir al-Sadr in Shi‘i Political Activism in Iraq from  to ,” International Journal of Middle East Studies  (), –. Chibli Mallat, “Muhammad Baqer al-Sadr,” in Pioneers of Islamic Revival,ed.Ali Rahnema (Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Zed Books, ), –. Yitzhak Nakash, The Sh¯ı‘¯ıs of Iraq (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, ). Muhammad Baqir Sadr, The Awaited Saviour, translated by M. A. Ansari (Accra, NY: Islamic Seminary, ).

On the morning of February , , a bomb blast ripped through the al- Askar¯ı Mosque in the Iraqi city of Samarra. Al-Qa‘ida’s¯ affiliate in Iraq took responsibility for the attack, which triggered a wave of violence between Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı Muslims that lasted almost two years and (according to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees) created nearly , refugees. The violence transformed the demographics of entire cities. Neighborhoods previously home to both Sunn¯ıs and Sh¯ı‘a were increasingly identified with a single religious community. The intensity of the reaction to the bombing stemmed from the site’s importance for the Twelver Sh¯ı‘a, as the complex houses the tombs of the tenth and eleventh Imams¯ and marks the location of the disappearance of the twelfth Imam.¯ Since , conflict between Sunn¯ıs and Sh¯ı‘a has featured prominently in media coverage of the Muslim world. Pakistan, a hotbed of Sunn¯ı–Sh¯ı‘a violence for decades, has seen a dramatic escalation of attacks over the past five years against Sh¯ı‘¯ıgroupsinKarachiandLahorebySunn¯ı paramilitary organizations that operate outside governmental control. Since ,the Malaysian government has organized a systematic campaign against the country’s small Sh¯ı‘¯ı population. The Syrian civil war that erupted in  pits a government dominated by an Alawite (Nus.ayr¯ı) Sh¯ı‘¯ı community and backed by the Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı regime in Iran against a coalition of groups supported by the Sunn¯ı monarchies of the Arabian Peninsula. There are also regular reports of anti-Sh¯ı‘¯ı violence from Egypt, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, and the United Arab Emirates. The friction between Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı communities is not simply a phenomenon of the contemporary world. In a recent work aptly titled Tradition and Survival, Hossein Modarressi documents the persecution of the early Sh¯ı‘¯ı community during the lifetimes of the Twelver Imams.¯ 

 Hossein Modarressi, Tradition and Survival (Oxford: Oneworld, ), vol. .



Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:55:37, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.019 Conclusion  Baghdad witnessed multiple periods of Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı mob violence, particularly in the eleventh and twelfth centuries as the ruling Sunn¯ıSeljuq Sultans and the Sunn¯ı‘Abbasid¯ caliphs attempted to discredit the Sh¯ı‘¯ı Fat¯.imids in Egypt. There were a number of Safavid purges of Sunn¯ıpopu- lations in Iran and periods of intense persecution of Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars in Ottoman Syria. The list is long and includes examples of both Sunn¯ı violence against Sh¯ı‘¯ı populations and vice versa. Given the abundant historical evidence of Sunn¯ı–Sh¯ı‘¯ıconflictthrough history, it is easy to exaggerate the tension between the communities. Although periods of Sunn¯ı–Sh¯ı‘¯ı cooperation are less known, they likely provide a more representative picture of communal relations over time. After all, the historical sources were authored by religious scholars who were more interested in theological differences than might be the case for a merchant or a carpenter or a butcher. These sources are prone to overstating the degree of animosity at the popular level. A number of recent studies have uncovered evidence of cooperation between Sunn¯ıs and Sh¯ı‘a. In her examination of the religious topography of eleventh- to thirteenth-century Syria, for example, Stephennie Mulder notes the importance of ‘Alid shrines for both Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı populations. She also documents the degree to which these shrines, which held particular significance for the Sh¯ı‘a, were maintained or even founded on Sunn¯ı patronage. Mulder’s work suggests that relations between the two communities were closer than the image conveyed by historical sources. There is also significant evidence of collaboration and overlap at the elite level. In his recent doctoral dissertation, Matthew Melvin-Koushki argues for an “Imamophilism” (a loyalty to descendants of ‘Al¯ı) through which fourteenth- and fifteenth-century scholars in Iran fostered intellectual identities that transcended categories such as Sunn¯ıorSh¯ı‘¯ı. On balance, then, we are left with a picture of Sunn¯ı–Sh¯ı‘¯ı interactions that oscillates between animosity and cohabitation. There are periods when the two communities cooperate and others when they collide. In the remainder of this conclusion, I examine a number of factors that help shape relations between Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı communities. The first section discusses mundane matters, such as joint participation in group prayers

 Stephennie Mulder, The Shrines of the ‘Alids in Medieval Syria (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, ), particularly chaps.  and .  Matthew Melvin-Koushki, “The Quest for a Universal Science” (PhD diss., Yale University, ), –.

i. the calculus of social interactions and the logic of cooperation Recent decades have witnessed the proliferation of Muslim websites dedi- cated to answering legal questions. Sunn¯ı websites are often administered by religious scholars who range from chaplains with training in American and European seminaries to formal jurists with degrees from traditional religious institutions in the Muslim world. By contrast, Sh¯ı‘¯ıwebsitesare mostly managed by the philanthropic foundations of prominent jurists (i.e., Ayatollahs considered “sources of emulation”). These sites provide forums to discuss contemporary issues and usually post replies to questions submitted by readers from across the Muslim world. Frequently, the questions on these websites involve financial matters, dietary laws, and the complications of living in non-Muslim societies. A significant portion, however, focus on relations between Sunn¯ıand Sh¯ı‘¯ı communities. In a vast majority of cases, the rulings affirm that the opposing group lies within the broader bounds of Islam. Sunn¯ısites,for example, confirm the permissibility of food prepared by Sh¯ı‘¯ı butchers and chefs, while Sh¯ı‘¯ı sites uphold the ritual purity of Sunn¯ı Muslims. Some cases, however, are more ambiguous. Onesuchcaseinvolvesthegroupprayer.Acommonquestiononthis issue concerns the permissibility of performing a communal prayer next to an adherent of a different tradition. Most of the websites allow this practice, but there are significant exceptions, especially from Sunn¯ı scholars who adhere to traditionist interpretations prevalent in Saudi Arabia or parts of Pakistan. In addressing the issue, Sunn¯ı scholars often create a hierarchy of “deviance” and direct their criticism at those Sh¯ı‘¯ıMuslims who actively curse the Companions or embellish the status of their Imams.¯ Among Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholars, participation in prayers led by Sunn¯ıs is sometimes

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:55:37, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.019 Conclusion  discouraged because of probity requirements for prayer leadership. They argue that the prayer leader must be held to a high moral standard, which disqualifies Sunn¯ıs as well as Sh¯ı‘a Muslims of questionable credentials. The general tenor of these websites combines a cautious acceptance of the other community in daily interactions and mundane matters with serious reservations about theological doctrine. The most commonly asked question on both Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı websites involves intermarriage. This is a particularly charged matter because of its bearing on the religious orientation of children. With the notable objection of certain traditionist Sunn¯ı websites, there is a general consensus in favor of Sunn¯ı–Sh¯ı‘¯ı marriages, with one important caveat. Both Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı scholars assert that marrying a member of the other group is permissible as long as there is no threat of being misled in belief. In other words, these scholars acknowledge the status of the other group as Muslim, thereby affirming the unity of the larger community, while simultaneously maintaining the boundary that differentiates Sunn¯ıfromSh¯ı‘a. In other words, it is fine to marry into the other group, but only if you can avoid being adulterated by its problematic beliefs. In framing their answers, scholars seek to minimize social tension without sacrificing doctrinal difference. On the popular level, there are countless examples of friendly relations between Sunn¯ıs and Sh¯ı‘a in many regions. Numerous shrines in Egypt, Iraq, and Syria are frequented by both communities. The H. usayn Mosque in Cairo, purported to contain the head of H. usayn b. ‘Al¯ı, is a central place of worship for the largely Sunn¯ı population of Egypt. The al-Askar¯ıMosque (site of the  bombing) has long served as an important religious site for the predominantly Sunn¯ı inhabitants of Samarra. The ‘Alid shrines of Syria have a complicated history involving both Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı patrons and pilgrims. Although these sacred sites hold different meanings for the Sunn¯ıs and the Sh¯ı‘a, they are part of a shared religious topography. A similar dynamic informs commemorations of Karbala in many parts of the Indian subcontinent, particularly the Punjab, where processions are attended by a range of religious communities, including, in some cases, Hindus. It seems that within these regions social bonds override theological

 It should be noted that there are also many reports from the Imams¯ that recommend participating in group prayers led by Sunn¯ıMuslims.  This is especially the case for scholars in the United States or Europe, where minority Muslim populations struggle to maintain their identity among majority non-Muslim populations.  For Sunn¯ıs, the shrines might be important centers of worship that beneﬁt from the religious charisma of a pious historical ﬁgure. For the Sh¯ı‘a, those same shrines might serve as access points for asking Imams¯ to intercede on their behalf with God.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:55:37, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.019  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam differences. Increasingly, however, such local dynamics are giving way to more divisive forces, and ‘Ash¯ ur¯ a’¯ processions are becoming ﬂashpoints for violence.

ii. deconstructing some causes of sunn¯ı–sh¯ı‘¯ı violence As already mentioned, there are well-documented historical and contemporary instances of Sunn¯ı–Sh¯ı‘¯ı violence. These cannot be dismissed as anomalies, but they are also not an inevitable consequence of theological difference or of an enmity dating back to the time of the Prophet. The situation is far more complex. This section attempts to outline some of the primary causes for the outbreak of violence between the two communities. It offers a preliminary typology of factors that have precipitated Sunn¯ı– Sh¯ı‘¯ı animosity, but it does so with the understanding that no explanation can explain the conﬂict in its entirety.

A. Resource Allocation Outbreaks of violence between Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı populations often involve disparities in the allocation of resources. These resources may take many forms. A religious community may be systematically deprived of its share of a state’s financial resources (e.g., oil revenue), thereby stifling its development. It may also be denied political resources through limits on its representation in a legislature or its access to government jobs. These situations create a sense of disempowerment and aggravate resentments between competing religious groups. As long as the state maintains the appearance of strength, it may be possible to stifle communal violence. In such cases, however, any decline in central authority, whether real or perceived, often results in mass unrest, especially if the deprived community constitutes a plurality or majority of the population. The textbook example of this dynamic was the Lebanese Civil War (–), which involved a wide range of Muslim and non-Muslim religious communities. By the late s, the Sh¯ı‘a constituted a plurality of the Lebanese population, but they received far fewer financial resources from the state than did other, less populous communities. Furthermore, their share of political power was predicated on an outdated census that subordinated them to both the Maronite Christians and Sunn¯ı Muslims.

 For speciﬁc ﬁgures on the situation of the Sh¯ı‘a in the Lebanese Civil War, see Augustus Norton, Amal and the Shi‘a (Austin: University of Texas Press, )andHezbollah (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, ).

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:55:37, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.019 Conclusion  Over the course of the civil war (and instigated partially by the Israeli invasion of Lebanon in ), the Sh¯ı‘a became politicized first into the Amal Movement of Musa al-Sadr and then into Hezbollah. They then mobilized in defense of their own interests and in strong opposition to the Lebanese Sunn¯ı community. The situation was further inflamed by the complete collapse of government authority. The US invasion of Iraq in  provides a second example of how resource allocation in a period of weakened central authority promotes Sunn¯ı–Sh¯ı‘¯ı violence. Beginning in , Iraq was ruled by the Ba‘ath Party, which was ostensibly committed to secular Arab nationalism. It included both Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı members and did not openly favor one community over the other. Relations between the Sunn¯ıs and the Sh¯ı‘a in Iraq were generally cordial, as tribal differences often trumped religious affiliations in importance. In the aftermath of the  Iranian Revolution, however, Saddam Hussein (r. –), fearful of activist Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı jurists, initiated a systematic persecution of the Sh¯ı‘¯ı population in southern Iraq. Despite this, the Iraqi Sh¯ı‘¯ı community remained largely loyal to the state and even fought in large numbers against their Iranian coreligionists during the Iran–Iraq War (–). The religious dynamic in Iraq was fundamentally altered after the First Gulf War (Operation Desert Storm, –) when, upon the encourage- ment of the United States, the Sh¯ı‘a of southern Iraq rebelled en masse, only to be crushed by the remnants of the Iraqi army. Subsequent years witnessed an increase in the Iraqi regime’s persecution of the Sh¯ı‘a, as Saddam Hussein sought to garner popular support in the Arab world by casting himself as a global champion of Sunn¯ı Islam. When the United States invaded Iraq in , it destroyed much of the ruling infrastructure of the Ba‘ath regime. The resulting collapse in centralized authority led to violence that crystallized around the Sunn¯ı–Sh¯ı‘¯ı divisions fostered by Saddam Hussein during his last decade in power. Sunn¯ı–Sh¯ı‘¯ı tensions were also exacerbated by the influx of radical elements (e.g., al-Qa‘ida),¯ which declared the Sh¯ı‘a apostates and carried out systematic attacks against Sh¯ı‘¯ı religious sites such as the al-Askar¯ı Mosque in Samarra. In the aftermath of the invasion, the Sh¯ı‘a, who constituted a plurality of the Iraqi population, were able to dominate the government, take the lead in drafting a new constitution, and claim a larger share of the country’s natural resources. This shift in resource allocation, both political and financial, contributed to a further deterioration in Sunn¯ı–Sh¯ı‘¯ı relations.

 For a slightly different perspective, see Yitzhak Nakash, The Shi‘is of Iraq (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, ).

B. Imperial/State Competition Sunn¯ı–Sh¯ı‘¯ı violence also occurs in periods of rivalry between strong centralized states. In historical terms, this type of conﬂict is an offshoot of competition between empires that promote a speciﬁc religious identity (e.g., Sunn¯ıorSh¯ı‘¯ı) as a means of galvanizing their population against an enemy. In such instances, the terms Sunn¯ıorSh¯ı‘¯ı become synony- mous with foreign threats. In eleventh-century Baghdad,¯ for example, Sunn¯ı–Sh¯ı‘¯ı relations disintegrated as ‘Abbasid¯ caliphs and Seljuq sultans contested Fat¯.imid claims to political and religious legitimacy. Similarly, the sixteenth century saw a rise in the persecution of Sunn¯ıs in Safavid territories and an exacerbation of government-sponsored violence against the Sh¯ı‘a in Ottoman-dominated regions of Lebanon. In both of these cases, strong states used religious violence to forward political ends. It is certainly possible that those who participated in this violence were driven by theological differences. The violence itself, however, was the result of pragmatic governmental policy.

C. Crisis and Scapegoats Sunn¯ı–Sh¯ı‘¯ı violence frequently increases in periods of existential crisis, when explanations are sought for political setbacks or a perceived decline. The search for answers turns inward, as weaknesses are ascribed to a deviation from an idealized past. Perhaps the most signiﬁcant episode of this variety involved the thirteenth-century Mongol conquests, which culminated in the sack of Baghdad and the execution of the last ‘Abbasid¯ caliph in . The Mongol armies marched as far west as Jordan before they were defeated by the Mamluks¯ (r. – in Egypt) at the Battle of ‘Ayn Jal¯ ut¯ in . These conquests were particularly traumatic because, unlike previous invaders from Central Asia, the Mongols were not Muslims. Their successes created an empire that, for the ﬁrst time, saw large Muslim populations governed by non-Muslims. Even in subsequent generations, when the Mongols ostensibly converted to Islam, many religious leaders remained skeptical. In such a period of crisis, the internal weakness of the community

D. Theology Our discussion to this point has focused largely on nonreligious factors such as resource allocation, imperial competition, and societal crisis. In emphasizing their importance, it is easy to argue that theological beliefs have no real impact on the eruption of religious violence or that the terms Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘a simply provide labels which mask more fundamental social divisions. But this is not an honest position. There are, in fact, numerous cases in which theological differences are the the primary causes of Sunn¯ı– Sh¯ı‘¯ı violence. In such instances, those who carry out violence are motivated by the belief that their opponents are apostates and therefore subject to death in accordance with Islamic law. The Sipah-e Sahaba movement in Pakistan (founded in the late s), for example, has carried out a systematic campaign against leading Sh¯ı‘¯ı public figures over the past three decades, particularly in Karachi, Lahore, and Multan. A similar motivation appears to inform anti-Sh¯ı‘¯ı legislation in Malaysia, where government officials inflate the religious threat posed by a small Sh¯ı‘¯ı minority. Although al-Qa‘ida¯ is best known for an agenda centered on the removal of European and American power from the Mid- dle East, it also promotes an avidly anti-Sh¯ı‘¯ı message. These groups are

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:55:37, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.019  Sh¯ı‘¯ıIslam not using anti-Sh¯ı‘¯ı rhetoric simply for propaganda purposes; rather, they believe the Sh¯ı‘a are apostates for holding theological views that they consider deviant. Although theologically motivated groups remain limited in number, it has become increasingly possible for them to exert disproportionate inﬂu- ence. In states with weakened governments that lack popular legitimacy, such groups have the ability to ignite religious violence despite local efforts to reduce tensions. Returning to the  bombing of the al-Askar¯ıMosque in Samarra, the ensuing violence between Sunn¯ıs and Sh¯ı‘a erupted over calls for peace from inﬂuential religious scholars and political leaders. For example, Ayatollah ‘Al¯ıS¯ıstan¯ ¯ı, by far the most important Twelver Sh¯ı‘¯ı scholar in Iraq, forbade his followers to carry out retaliatory attacks against Sunn¯ı mosques. Similar sentiments were expressed by Sunn¯ı religious leaders, particularly in Baghdad. There were also joint statements issued by Sunn¯ıandSh¯ı‘¯ı scholars that called for a nationwide effort to reduce religious tensions. Still, the unrest between the two communities persisted for almost two years.

iii. final thoughts None of the explanations provided here offer a comprehensive explanation for Sunn¯ı–Sh¯ı‘¯ı violence. In actuality, religious violence results from a combination of factors, most of which, I contend, are not theological in their origins. At the same time, it is true that violence in the Muslim world often assumes a Sunn¯ı–Sh¯ı‘¯ı dimension. This suggests that theology cannot simply be dismissed as irrelevant. In fact, as noted throughout this book, the Sunn¯ı–Sh¯ı‘¯ı divide is predicated on fundamental differences in belief and practice supplemented by singular readings of the past. Once activated, these differences are difficult to quell. In Iraq or Pakistan, an outburst of violence in a mosque or a shrine can inflame a religious community’s sense of disempowerment. In the case of the Sh¯ı‘a, such a sentiment might quickly be integrated into a broad narrative that stretches back to H. usayn at Karbala and compel a powerful reaction. There is nothing intrinsic to Sunn¯ıorSh¯ı‘¯ı beliefs that neccesitates conflict between the two communities. And yet these beliefs are always available as a resource for the justification of communal violence. As I write these words in , Syrian rebels aligned with al-Qa‘ida¯ have threatened

 The absence of parallel anti-Sunn¯ı groups is probably a function of demographics as opposed to any intrinsic inclusiveness within Sh¯ı‘ism.

Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:55:37, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.019 Downloaded from http:/www.cambridge.org/core. University of Warwick, on 12 Dec 2016 at 14:55:37, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http:/www.cambridge.org/core/terms. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139381710.019 Appendix: Verses Mentioned in the Argument from Qur’anic¯ Expectations in Chapter 3

Q2:83 And [remember] when We made a covenant with the Children of Israel, [saying]: Worship none save God, and be good to parents and to kindred and to orphans and the needy, and speak kindly to mankind; and establish worship and pay the poor-due. Then, after that, you slid back, save a few of you, being averse. Q2:177 It is not righteousness that you turn your faces to the east and the west; rather, righteous is he who believes in God and the Last Day and the angels and the scripture and the prophets; and gives wealth, for love of Him, to kinsfolk and to orphans and the needy and the wayfarer and to those who ask, and to set slaves free; and observes proper worship and pays the poor-due. And those who keep their treaty when they make one, and the patient in tribulation and adversity and time of stress. Such are they who are sincere. Such are the God-fearing. Q2:215 They ask you, what shall they spend. Say: that which you spend for good [must go] to parents and near kindred and orphans and the needy and the wayfarer. And whatever good you do, God is aware of it. ¯ Q3:33–34 God preferred Adam (Adam) and Nuh¯ . (Noah) and the family of Ibrah¯ ¯ım [Abraham] and the family of ‘Imran¯ (Amram) above [all] creatures. They were descendants one of another. God is the Hearer, the Knower. Q4:7–8 To the men [of a family] belongs a share of that which parents and near kindred leave, and unto the women a share of that which parents and near kindred leave, whether it be little or much – a legal share. And when kinsfolk and orphans and the needy are present at the division [of inheritance], bestow on them from it and speak kindly to them. Q6:84–87 And We bestowed upon him [Ibrah¯ ¯ım], Ish. aq¯ (Isaac) and Ya‘qub¯ (Jacob); each of them We guided; and Nuh¯ . did We guide aforetime; and of his seed [We guided] Daw¯ ud¯ (David) and Sulayman¯ (Solomon) and Ayyub¯ (Job) and Yusuf¯ (Joseph) and Mus¯ a¯ (Moses) and Har¯ un¯ (Aaron). Thus do We reward the good. (continued)



¯ And Zakariyya¯ (Zachariah) and Yah. ya¯ (John) and ‘Isa¯ (Jesus) and Ilyas¯ (Elias). Each one [of them] was of the righteous. And Isma‘¯ ¯ıl (Ishmael) and al-Yasa‘ (Elisha) and Yunus¯ (Jonah) and Lut¯. (Lot). Each one [of them] did We prefer above other creatures, With some of their forefathers and their offspring and their brethren; and We chose them and guided them unto a straight path. Q8:75 And those who afterward believed and left their homes and strove along withyou,theyareofyou;andthosewhoarekinareneareroneto another in the ordinance of God. God knows all things. Q9:113 It is not for the Prophet, and those who believe, to pray for the forgiveness of idolaters, even though they may be near of kin, after it has become clear that they are people of the hellﬁre. Q11:45–46 And Nuh¯ . cried unto his Lord and said: My Lord! Lo! My son is of my household! Surely Your promise is the truth and You are the most just of judges. He said: O Nuh¯ . ! He is not of your household. He is of evil conduct, so ask not of Me that of which you have no knowledge. I admonish you lest you be among the ignorant. Q19:5–7 Lo! I fear my kinsfolk after me, since my wife is barren. Oh, give me, by Your presence, a successor Who shall inherit of me and inherit of the house of Ya‘qub.¯ And make him, my Lord, acceptable. [It was said unto him]: O Zakariyya!¯ We bring you tidings of a son whose name is Yah. ya;¯ we have given the same name to none before [him]. Q19:49–50 So when he [Ibrah¯ ¯ım] had withdrawn from them and that which they were worshipping beside God, We gave him Ish. aq¯ and Ya‘qub.¯ Each of them We made a prophet. And We gave them of Our mercy, and assigned to them a high and true renown. Q20:29–30 Appoint for me an assistant from my folk, Har¯ un,¯ my brother. Q21:48 And We verily gave Mus¯ a¯ and Har¯ un¯ the criterion [of right and wrong] and a light and a reminder for those who keep from evil. Q24:22 And let not those among you who possess dignity and ease take an oath against giving to the near of kin and to the needy, and to fugitives for the cause of God. Let them forgive and show indulgence. Have you not learned that God may forgive you? God is Forgiving, Merciful. Q25:35 We verily gave Mus¯ a¯ the scripture and placed with him his brother Har¯ un¯ as an assistant.

Q29:27 And We bestowed on him [Ibrah¯ ¯ım] Ish. aq¯ and Ya‘qub,¯ and We established the prophethood and the scripture among his seed, and We gave him his reward in the world, and in the hereafter he is among the righteous. Q33:6 The Prophet is closer to the believers than their selves, and his wives are [as] their mothers. And the owners of kinship are closer one to another in the ordinance of God than [other] believers and the migrants [who ﬂed from Mecca]; nevertheless you should act in kindness toward your friends. This is written in the Book. Q38:30 And We bestowed on Daw¯ ud¯ Sulayman.¯ How excellent a servant! He was ever turning in repentance.

I draw heavily on Marmaduke Pickthall’s English translation of the Qur’an.¯

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