Persian Influence on Literary and Sufi Traditions in South Asia

 

Khaliq Ahmad Nizami

The story of South Asian relations with Iran goes back to hoary past and covers many important aspects of life--political, literary, cultural and religious. The spirit of Persian renaissance turned Iranian traditions into a vibrant force and shaped the sociopolitical ideals of the sultans, the literary and artistic paradigms of scholars, the moral code and spiritual goals of the sufis, the melodies of the musicians and the parameters of the medical science. The artists, the painters, the architects, the caligraphists of Iran all came to be admired and imitated. The aesthetic and artistic genius of Iran inspired for centuries the literary and spiritual activities of the people in South Asia and its intellectual and emotional life revolved around the patterns set by Iranian traditions. Hardly any other cultural tradition has had such far-reaching and abiding impact on the lives of the people. Naturally therefore when one thinks of Iranian impact on South Asia, a world of historic visions and memories glows into consciousness.

Two preliminary observations may be made to put the present discussion in its proper conceptual framework. First, many of the important scholars of Islamic sciences who influenced Muslim mind in South Asia belonged to Iranian lands, though they wrote in Arabic. When their works came to be translated into Persian, the area of their influence widened. Of the six distinguished compilers of the hadith collections (sihah sitta) five were Iranians. Zamakhshar^, the author of kashshaf, the classical work on exegesis, and Seboyah, the celebrated Arabic grammarian, belonged to Zamakhshar and Shiraz in Iran. The Arabs themselves, remarks Ami^r Khusrau, acknowledged their preeminent academic stature and addressed them as `Allamah.1 In fact, Persian became in South Asia the transmission house for Islamic sciences including tafsir, kalâm, fiqh and tasawwuf.

Second, if the course of different streams of thought in Iran is closely followed, it would appear that there has been considerable cycling and recycling of ideas between Iran and India. India is the cradle of pantheistic philosophy and the Upanishads contain the earliest expositions of these ideas. When Islam reached Khurasan and transoxiana, the religious atmosphere was saturated with Buddhist and Hindu ideas. The temples of Bamyan, Balkh and Marv were centers of Buddhist tradition. It was but inevitable that some of their concepts influenced the Iranian mind. The Upanishads proclaim Tattvam assi (Thou art thou), and the idea finds its echo in Bâyazid. The Karramiyan2 cult was a half way house between Islam and Buddhism. Hujwiri has given an account of twelve schools of mystic thought which flourished during the eleventh century of the Christian era.3 An analysis of the thought contents of these garohs, as he calls them, reveals the impact of Indian ideas. Concepts like fanâ, baqâ, hulûl, etc. are inexplicable except in the context of Hindu and Buddhist religious traditions. Thus some of the Iranian mystical ideas that reached India during the medieval period had in fact originated in India and were cycled back to India under Islamic rubrics. Indian fables (like Panchatantra), lexical and phonological traditions, mathematical theories and astronomical concepts reached Iran and influenced Iranian thought.

If one surveys the historical landscape of India during the medieval period, a number of Iranian cultural streams in the realm of polity, social traditions, literature, historiography and mystic thought seem flowing in every direction enriching the soil and contributing to the variegated culture pattern of India. It was generally believed in India during the Sultanate period that kingship was not possible without emulating Persian customs, ceremonies and principles of government. When Iltutmish, the real founder of the Delhi Sultanate, is referred to as Fari^du^n far, Qubâd Nahâd, Kâvûs Nâmûs, Sikandar Daulat, Bahrâm Shaukat,4 the whole concept of greatness seems to reel round the Iranian heroes. Both Iltutmish and Balban prided in calling themselves descendants of Afrâsiyâb.5 Barani's Fatâwây-i Jahândâri illustrates the depth and dimensions of Iranian influence on medieval Indian polity. The sultans of Delhi were Turks by race but Iranian by culture. Their entire administrative set-up--from names and nomenclature of offices to forms and functions of institution--was modeled on the Iranian pattern.6 Barani remarks: "...it became necessary for the rulers of Islam to follow the policy of the Iranian emperors in order to ensure the greatness of the True Word...and the maintenance of their own authority."7

In the fields of learning and literature, Iranian influence shaped the contour and conspectus of historiography, poetry, tasawwuf (mysticism), inshâ (epistolary principles) and tibb (medicine). Amir Khusrau has referred to the linguistic homogeneity brought about by the Persian language in a country of proliferate linguistic traditions. He remarks:

"The Persian language as spoken in India is the same from Sind to Bengal. This Persian is our Dari. Indian languages differ from group to group and change (their dialects) after every hundred miles. But Persian is the same over an area of four thousand farsangs.8

History writing among the Muslims was conditioned by two distinct traditions--the Arab and the Iranian. The Arabs wrote history of an age and handled the historical data year by year; the Iranians, inspired by the traditions of Shâh Nâmah, dealt with dynasties and their assortment of facts concerned mainly the court and the camp. The Iranian historians generally dedicated their works to rulers or the ruling dynasties. In India the Iranian tradition influenced the pattern of history writing. From Hasan Nisha^pu^ri^, the earliest historian of the Delhi Sultanate (Tâj al-Ma'âthir) to Khair al-Din Ilâhâbâdi, the last historian of the Mughal Empire (`Ibrat Nâmah), the Iranian pattern determined the collection and presentation of historical data. The whole jargon of official correspondence and epistolography was developed in India on the principles of `ilm-i dabi^ri^, as described in Chahâr Maqâla and as adopted in Dastur al-Albâb fi `Ilm al-Hisâb by ``Abdul Hamid Muharrir Ghaznavi. The drafting of Fath Nâmahs (official communiques of victory) was done on the Iranian model. The Fath Nâmahs of `Ala^ al-Di^n Khalji^ drafted by Kabir al-Din have not survived but Balban's fath Na^mah of Lakhnanti as drafted by Ami^r Khusrau is available in I`jâz-i Khusravi and Akbar's fath Nâmah of Chittor is preserved in Namakin's Munsha'ât wa Ruqa`a^t. Their form and format are to all intents and purposes Iranian.

With the Sha^h Na^mah, which crystallized the historic memory of Iran, begins the history of literary, cultural and political traditions of Iran. It ushered in the dawn of Persian Renaissance and Firdausi justly claimed: `Ajam zinda kardam bedin Pa^rsi (I have brought back `Ajam to life through this Persian.) From the time of Balban to the days of Akbar and even later the Sha^h Na^mah was read at the courts of sultans and principles of governance and cultural effervescence were drawn from it. Its verses were recited even in the khânqâhs. When Balban presented himself at Pakpattan to seek the blessings of Shaikh Farid Ganj-i Shakar, the saint recited the following verses of Firdausi:9

Fari^du^n-i farrukh firishtih nabu^d

Za `u^d-o za `anbar sirishtih nabu^d

Za dâd-o dahish yâft ân nikui^

To dâd-o dahish kun, firishtih to-i

(Fari^du^n, the blessed, was not an angel; he was not made of agallochum or ambergris. He attained the position of kingship through his bounty and liberality. Bestow liberally and Fari^du^n is thee.)

The Shâh Nâmah influenced the politico cultural thinking of the people so deeply that its translations were undertaken in several Indian languages--Urdu, Hindi, Gujarati, etc. `Isa^mi wrote his Futu^h al-Sala^ti^n as Sha^h Na^mah-i Hind and said:10

Jahân tâ ki bâqist andar jahân

Bi Shahna^ma Ba^qist na^m-i shaha^n

(As long as the world lasts, the Sha^h Na^mah will remain and with it the names of the kings it describes.)

Shaikh A^zari versified the conquests of Ahmad Sha^h Bahmani in Bahman Na^mah on the pattern of Sha^h Na^mah. During the time of Aurangzeb, Baha^dur Ali rendered into prose many stories of Sha^h Na^mah and named them Sha^h Na^mah-i Bakhta^war Kha^ni. The glamour of Sha^h Na^mah as a model of sociopolitical activities inspired Hafeez Jallandhari to write Sha^h Na^mah-i Islam in Urdu.

In all the important genres of poetry--ghazal, mathnawi^, qasi^dah--the success of a poet in South Asia was measured by the extent of his approximation to the standards set by the Iranian poets. In the words of J^m^ there were three prophets in the sphere of poetry--Firdausi of abiya^t, Anwari of qasi^dah and Sa`adi^ of ghazal.11 Each one of them had his literary following in India.

Sa`adi^ was the great master of ghazal. He was justified in claiming sovereignty over the realm of letters (Sukhan Mulkist Sa`ad^ r^ musallam). In his poetry, which is soaked in cosmic emotion, feelings move in tune and time as naturally as the heart beats. Am^r Khusrau and Hasan both tried to emulate him but did not succeed. However, both of them admitted their indebtedness to Sa`ad^i. Khusrau acknowledged having poured in his cup the wine of Shiraz12 and Hasan claimed to have plucked a flower from the garden of Sa`ad^.13 Shaikh Nas^r al-D^n Chir^gh, a friend of both Khusrau and Hasan, however, remarked:14

Amir Khusrau va Amir Hasan bisiyâr khwâstand ki be-tariq-i Khwâja Sa`adi bi-guyand, muyassar nashud; Khwâja Sa`adi^ a^nchih guft az sirr-i hâl guft.

(Amir Khusrau and Amir Hasan much desired to emulate Khwâja Sa`adi^ in their poetry, but did not succeed. Whatever Khwa^ja Sa`adi^ has said is based on cosmic experience).

Unfortunately this sirr-i hâl of Sa`adi^ was overshadowed by his eminence as a poet. But in India his pre-eminence as a dedicated Sufi was widely acknowledged and invocatory and incantational significance was attached to his verses. Shaikh Hamid al-Din Nagauri, a distinguished khalifa of Khwâja Mu`in al-Din Chishtî of Ajmer, told his audience that during the closing years of his life Shaikh Sa`adi lived in seclusion at the mausoleum of Shaikh ``Abdullâh Khafifi and spent his time in prayer and meditation. He thus advised those who came to see him:

"Offer five time prayers regularly and whatever much or less God has given you share it with the needy and the poor. If you do that then wherever you may be (placed in life), you can proceed from there on the path to God (and attain gnosis)."15

He made altruism a corner stone of his mystic discipline. He had learnt from his spiritual mentor, Shaikh Shihâb al-Dîn Suhrawardi, that rejection of egotistical arrogance and self-abnegation was the only way to spiritual enlightenment. He says:

Marâ Pîr-i dânâ-yi murshid, Shihâb

Do andarz farmûd bar rû-yi âb

yiki in-ki bar khwîsh khud-bîn mabâsh

duvum in-ki bar ghayr bad-bin mabâsh

(My wise and blessed spiritual mentor, Shih^b

Gave two pieces of advice to me while sailing on the river

First, do not be ego-centric (and overbearing)

Secondly, do not look down upon and wish ill of others.)

Sa`adi's role in focusing on moral and ethical ideas of Islamic mysticism was second to none. Innumerable works of Indian Sufis have quoted his verses as the real way to attain gnosis. In fact, in India the mystic spirit was generated and sustained more by Persian verses than mystic classics or ethical treatises.

In the thirteenth century the elan of Persian poetry was towards moral rejuvenation of society by restoring the dignity of man as Man and inculcating respect for moral and ethical values. There was a painful realization that the moral fiber of man had weakened and that human beings were multiplying while humanity was languishing. The life breath of the poetry of Sa`adi, Rumi and `Irâqî was their restless concern for humanity. In fact, the process of what Iqbal called âdamgarî (shaping the man) and which later on became the summum bonum of mystic activity, begins with them. Rumi set out in search of "Man" crying insânam ârizûst (I yearn for a true human being); Sa`ad^ found beasts masquerading in human form16 and sought protection from vicissitudes and revolution of the time (zinhâr az dowr-i gîtî va inqilâb-i rûzigâr). They applied all their energy to resurrect the fallen structures of faith and confidence and in directing the soul movement of man. In the poetry of Amir Khusrau one can hear an echo of the spirit generated by these great masters. His mathnawi, Matla` al-Anwâr, is soaked in this spirit of the age and reflects his anxiety to salvage humanity from its imminent doom. Surprisingly, the Iranian poets were writing in an age of gloom and depression when the Mongols had devastated centers of Muslim culture and Khusrau wrote when the Khalji Empire had risen with all its grandeur and glory. That under so dissimilar circumstances their concern for humanity should be the same shows their anxiety to salvage higher values in times of both gloom and glory. Rûmi's Mathnawi and Khusrau's Matla` al-Anwâr supplied Iqbal with both ideals and emotions and he prayed to God in Armaghân-i Hijâz

`Atâ kun shûr-i Rumi, sûz-i khusrau

(Bestow on me the tumult of Rumi and the flame of Khusrau).

Ghazals apart, Sa`adi's Gulistân and Bûstân were read by princes and plebeians alike and were prescribed in the syllabus of medieval Indian madrasahs. The Gulistân became a manual of guidance for the ethical and moral training of young minds. Not only its verses, but prose sentences also passed into proverbial literature and set the norms of good behavior. A number of works were written in imitation of Gulistân--Bahâristân, Khâristân and Parîshân--to name a few, but none could come anywhere near Sa`adi's work. Khâristân was written by Majd al-Din Khwâfi at the instance of Akbar;17 Qâsim Kûhi wrote in imitation of Bustân during the same period. But Sa`adi was inimitable.

In the sphere of ghazal, Hâfiz (d. 1389) was the other charismatic figure whose influence on the literary traditions of India was deep and far-reaching. A literary artist, he depicted delicate feelings and ideas like a painter, giving them a life-like touch. Bâbâ Fughâni, Sâ'ib, Naziri, `Urfi and a large number of other poets in Iran and India struggled hard to emulate his musical thought but did not succeed. Even the arrogant `Urfi considered him a literary sanctum (ka`abih sukhan). Urdu poets like Ghâlib, Saudâ and Momin have borrowed delicate sensitivity of emotions from him.

Hâfiz's literary reputation reached India during his life time. Bengal and Kashmir were in direct contact with him. About the appreciation of his poetry by the people of Kashmir he himself says:

Bi-shi`r-i Hâfiz-i Shiraz mi-raqsand-o mi-nâzand

Siyah-chashmân-i kashmiri-o Turkân-i Samarqandi

(The black-eyed Kashmiris and Turks of Samarqand love the verses of Hâfiz of Shiraz and dance in tune).

His poetry came to represent the quintessence of romantic fervor of Iran. His verses, chiselled linguistically and charged emotionally, took the contemporary Persian-speaking world by storm. Both men of letters and mystics enjoyed his verses in India. Looked upon as lisân al-ghayb (the tongue of secrets), people turned to his work for auguries and divinations. An old manuscript of Diwân-i Hâfiz preserved in Bankipur Library shows that Humâyûn and Jahângîr frequently consulted it for fâl (augury). Reacting to this aspect of popular interest in Hâfiz's poetry, Iqbal warned them against too much involvement in Hâfiz. He was opposed to impressionism but fully realized Hâfiz's greatness as a poet and his charismatic influence.

In fact the ghazal tradition in India, both in Persian and Urdu, derived its hue and color from Hâfiz. There were people in India who ascribed talismanic effect to his verses. Shâh Fazl-i Rahmân Ganj Murâbâdi, spiritual leader of some of the most distinguished Indian `ulama of the nineteenth century, wrote Hâfiz's verses in amulets.

Hâfiz returned India's compliment to persian masters by eulogizing Tûtiân-i Hind. Amir Khusrau has very beautifully described in Dîbâcha Ghurrat al-Kamâl the significance of tûti imagery in literature. Hâfiz's appreciation and esteem of Khusrau's poetry is evident from the fact that he copied out his khamsah in his own hand.

The Khamsah tradition in Persian literature owes its origin to Nizâmi of Ganja (d.1209), the most resplendent poet of romantic epic. The profundity of his ethical and philosophical thought created a stir in the literary and Sufi circles in India. A large number of Khamsahs were written in Central Asia, Turkey and India in its imitation, but in Browning's words, "They strove to do, agonized to do, but failed in doing." In India Khusrau wrote a replica of his Khamsah. According to Jâmi, no other poet could write a better rejoinder to Nizâmi than Khusrau.18 But Nizâmi's emotional rigor and grasp of minute detail could not be achieved by Khusrau. Shibli thought that Nizâmi wrote with patience and concentration; Khusrau hurriedly and with a distracted mind.19 The result was obvious. According to Daulat Shâh Samarqandi some Central Asian princes held a seminar on the relative merit of the two Khamsahs. They debated and argued in support of their points of view. Ultimately the following verse of Khusrau:

qatri-yi âbî na-khurad mâkiyân

Tâ na-kunad rûy sûy-i âsmân

(No hen takes a drop of water without lifting its head towards the sky (in gratefulness to God),

led to their verdict in favor of Khusrau. This was rather too much. However, it cannot be denied that Khusrau's use of bird symbols was superb. Explaining the concept of makân and lâ-makân he said:

Gar makân-o lâ-makân khwâhî ki yak-jâ bingarî

Murgh râ bîn dar havâ--ham lâ-maqâm-o ham maqâm

Important mystic teachers in India like Shaikh Farîd al-Dîn Ganj-i Shakar and Shaikh Nizâm al-Dîn Awliyâ' cited verses of Nizâmi to explain and illustrate different emotional states and mystical concepts. `Isâmi said that every word of Nizâmi was loaded with breathtaking incantational power.20 Inspired by Nizâmi's Khusrau-o-Shirîn, Jâmi wrote his Mehr-o-Mâh. But Nizâmi was nonpareil.

The masters of Persian qasîdah--Rûdaki, `Unsuri, Farrukhi, Khâqâni and others--determined qasidah patterns and motifs in India. Rudaki inspired generation after generation of Indian poets, including Ghâlib and Shibli, to compose verses in the same rhyme and meter. Khusrau admits in Tuhfat al-Sighar that he struggled hard to emulate Khâqâni but did not succeed. The Mughal court poets--Ghazzâli, Meshidi, Faizi, Tâlib Âmuli, Kalîm Hamadâni--all followed the footsteps of the qasidah writers of Iran. Ghâlib wrote a rejoinder to Nazîrî (d.1612), the chief lyric poet of the time, but confessed his mistake:

javâb-i Khwâja Nazîri nivishti-am Ghâlib

Khatâ nimûdi-am-o chashm-i âfarin dâram

In fact, the Iranian milieu--its smiling meadows, murmuring brooks, twittering bulbuls,21 melting glow of the twilight and moving moon up the sky--was a source of undying inspiration to the poets of Iran. As the Indian poets did not have first hand and direct experience of the Iranian phenomena of nature, their references to it appear insipid and prosaic. However, the incantation of words in the qasidahs of Indo-Persian poets was superb.

The most prolific period of Persian poetry in India was the age of Akbar (1556-1605), which Professor Hermann Ethe considered to be the "Indian summer of Persian poetry." Abul Fazl has referred to Gulistân, Hadiqah, Mathnawi of Rumi, Auhadi's Jâm-i Jam, Shâh Nâmah, Khamsah-i Nizâmi, Kulliyâti-Jâmi, Diwân-i Hâfiz as popular studies at the court of Akbar. These works set the norms of excellence and the poets of Akbar's court vied with each other in emulating these masters. Akbar's liberal patronage of men of letters attracted to his court scholars, philosophers, poets and artists from every part of the Persian speaking world--Meshed, Ispahan, Shiraz, Nishapur, Harat, Marv, Najaf, Hamadan, Kashan, Ray, Sabzwar and Tabriz.22 Under him Agra could boast to have within its confine many of those celebrities whom the author of Ma'âthir-i Rahîmî significantly calls the musta`idân-i Iran. This atmosphere continued in the centuries that followed and as late as the nineteenth century Ghâlib claimed:

Emrûz man Nizâmi-o Khâqâni-am bi-dahr

Delhi za man bi Ganja-o sherwân barâbar ast.

(In the world today I am like Nizâmi and Khâqâni. Due to my presence here Delhi is like Ganja and Sherwan.)

The Persian poetic genius found a congenial atmosphere at Akbar's court and its influence spread far and wide. India became a channel for the spread of Persian poetic traditions in other lands. "After Jâmi," wrote Ghâlib, "`Urfi and Faizi were the chief Persian influences on Turkish poetry."23 Nefa'î, the greatest Turkish poet of the seventeenth century is specially seen vying with `Urfi and it is not without significance that copies of some of the best qasidahs and Diwâns of `Urfi are found in the libraries of Ankara and Istanbul.24 `Urfi infused a new spirit in eulogistic literature by his qasidahs and ghazals, which are characterized by high ideals, deep egotistical perspicacity, dynamism and drive. According to Iqbal, who drew inspiration from him in evolving his concept of khudî, `Urfi's imagination built a magnificent palace at the altar of which the wonderland of Bû Ali Sînâ and Fârâbi could be sacrified. Even Ghâlib was beholden to him. 25

The emotional vigor and linguistic finesse with which Persian language, literature and traditions spread in India may be gauged from their effect on the various vernacular languages of India. Dr. Maulwi `Abdul Haq has traced the impact of Persian language on the Marathi language.26 Many Persian tales and terms form part of Bengali literature.27 Jayananda writes in his Chaitanya Mangal:28 "A Brahmin will grow a beard and read Persian. He will put on socks and with a stick in one hand will take a bow in the other. The holy Brahmin will recite the mathnaw^."29 Similarly in the Punjab many themes and stories of Iran were assimilated in the Punjab literature.

When Akbar got Sanskrit works translated into Persian, the frontiers of Persian language were further widened and Persian became the language of all Indian religions. Mahabharat Ramayan, Atharban, Haribas, etc. were rendered into Persian by the scholars of Akbar's court. It was through D^r^ Shukoh's Persian translation that the philosophy of Upanishads was introduced to Europe.30

"Sufism," remarks Shaikh Ali Hujwiri, "is too exalted to have any genus from which it might be derived."31 Notwithstanding the fact that mysticism has no genealogy and that the mystical attitude was developed in all regions, languages and religions of the world, the Sufi ideology and institutions in Islam were nurtured in Iran. South Asia imbibed these metaphysical and ontological concepts from Iran and its mystical thought rotated within the perimeters laid down by the Iranian thinkers. Ideology apart, even the organization of khânqâh life was largely determined by the Sufis of Iran. Shaikh Abu Said Abul Khair, Shaikh Saif al-Din Bâkharzi and Shaikh Shihâb al-Din Suhrawardi had taken a momentous decision to transform the mystic discipline, which had hitherto remained confined to individual spiritual salvation, into a movement for mass spiritual culture. Iran provided drift and direction, animation and ardor to this effort. Organization of khânqâh life, principles of spiritual training and demarcation of areas of spiritual jurisdiction (walâyats) were the crucial matters and once their details were worked out, the mystic movement entered a new phase and vast areas became available for the proliferation of Sufi ideology and institutions.

Shaikh Abd al-Qâhir Abu Najîb Suhrawardi laid down rules regarding pîr-murîd relationships in his âdâb al-Murîdîn. His nephew Shaikh Shihâb al-Din Suhrawardi gave in `Awârif al-Ma`ârif a complete code for the organization of khânqâhs. Shaikh Farid al-Din Ganj-i Shakar who was anxious to transform mystic disciplines into a mass movement taught `Awârif to his senior disciples and prepared its summary.32 The `awârif became widely popular when its Persian translations were made and mystics of all silsilahs turned to it as manual of guidance. At a time when the concept of walâyat was being worked out as silsilahs were taking shape, it served a great need of the time. The earliest Persian translation, as could be expected, was made at Multan by Q^sim D^'^d Khat^b during the time of Shaikh Bahâ al-Din Zakarriyâ, a distinguished khalifa of Shaikh Shihâb al-Din.33 Qâsim Dâ'ûd's aim, as he himself says, was to make it available to a large circle of people so that they could act upon it. Another early translation of `Awârif was made by Shaikh `Abdur Rahman b. Ali Buzghûsh whose father was a disciple of Shaikh Shihâb al-Din Suhrawardi. Long before `Izz al-Din Mahmûd Kâshâni (d.1334) prepared a Persian recension of `Awârif al-Ma`ârif under the title Mishah al-Hidâya wa Miftâh al-Kifâyah,34the ideas of Shaikh Shihâb al-Din Suhrawardi had become popularly known in the Sufi circles of South Asia and kh^nq^hs were organized on the foundational principles enunciated in `Aw^rif. With the effective organization of khânqâhs, it became possible for the saints of different silsilahs to carry forward their programs of mass spiritual culture.

A number of mystic silsilahs flourished in South Asia during the medieval period. Abul Fazl gives a list of fourteen orders which have worked in India. Some of the important saints of these silsilahs either belonged to Iran or had spent some time in the Sufi centers of Iran. Before he entered India, Khwâja Mu`în al-Din Chishti, the renowned founder of the Chisht^ order in India, had spent considerable time in the company of Sufi saints in Iran. The founder of the Suhrawardi order in India, Shaikh Baha al-Din Zakarriyâ, was a disciple of Shaikh Shihâb al-Din Suhrawardi and the spiritual guide of `Irâqi. The founder of the Firdausi order in India, Shaikh Badr al-Din Samarqandi, was a disciple of Shaikh Saif al-Din Bâkharzi who was a friend of Maulânâ Jalâl al-Din Rumi's father. Makhdum Muhammad Gîlâni, who popularized the Qâdiri order in India, had for years travelled in Iran and Khurasan. Khwâja Baqi Billâh , founder of the Naqshbandi order in India, was born in Kabul and had spent considerable time in Mâwarâ al-Nahr (Transoxiana) and Balkh. The Shattâri silsilah, which traced its origin to Shaikh Bâyazîd Taifûr Bistâmi and was known in Iran as Tarîqa-i `Ishqiya,35 came direct from Iran. Its pioneer saint in India was Shâh `Abdullâh Shattâri who lies buried in Mandu. Shaikh Muhammad Ghauth, an outstanding Shaikh of the Shattâri order, translated Amrit Kund into Persian under the title of Bahr al-Hayât. The way Shaikh Muhammad Ghauth has used Muslim mystic terminology to communicate Hindu mystical concepts is most striking. He was in a way a precursor of Dara Shukoh, whose majma` al-Bahrain is an expression of the same attitude which inspired Shaikh Muhammad Ghauth.

The organization of silsilahs in India made the dissemination of Sufi ideology easier. Itineracy being a part of the mystic discipline in those days, itinerant Sufis from Iran and India carried mystic traditions from one country to another. Delhi, Lahore, Multan and Ajodhan were connected with the mystic centers of Iran and Central Asia. `Ir^q^ of Hamadan joined the circle of Shaikh Bahâ al-Din Zakarriyâ's disciples in Multan and brought to India Ibn `Arab^'s pantheistic philosophy, which he had learned at the feet of Shaikh Sadr al-Din Qunavi. Through Khwâja Qutb al-Din Bakhtiyâr Kâki who hailed from Aush, a great Hallâji center, pantheistic ideas of Ahmad Jâm found currency in the mystic circles of Delhi.

Both mystic thought and experience derive their sustenance from cosmic emotion (`ishq), which is embedded in the psyche of Iran. It was cosmic emotion that wove the essential features of Sufi soul movement into the texture of Iranian thought. Since mystic experiences could not be explained in plain language, the Sufi poets adopted the language of symbols for the communication of their ideas. Abu Sa`id Abul Khair, Sanâ'î, `Attâr and Rumi planted the symbolist tradition in Iran and Indian Sufis drew inspiration from them. Iqbal was so deeply influenced by Rumi that according to Sa`îd Naficy he revived the "symbolist traditions with magnificent results."36 In India the Sufi tradition developed under the symbolist rather than the impressionist trends in Iran.

The poetical works of Shaikh Abu Sa`id Abul Khair (d.1049), Khwâja `Abdull^h Ansâri (d.1088), San^'^ (d.1131), Ahmad J^m (d.1142), Niz^m^ Ganjav^ (d.1209), `Att^r (d. 1229), Shaikh Saif al-Din Bâkharzi (d. 1259), Rumi (d.1273), `Irâqî (d. 1289) Sa`adi (d.1292), Shaikh Awhad al-Din Kirmâi^ (d.1237), Hâfiz (d.1389) and Jâmi (d.1492) supplied a warm fund of emotions to Indian Sufis and provided those moral and ethical ideals which became the elan of the Sufi movement in South Asia. The mystic literature produced in India during the last 800 years or so is replete with extracts from the works of these poets. Many of their verses have been accepted as epitomes of ideal behavior and have assumed the significance of proverbs based on unimpeachable human experience.

Iqbal has remarked in his Development of Metaphysics in Persia that the secret of vitality of Sufism is the complete view of human nature upon which it is based.37 A mystic teacher, therefore, needed nafs-i gir^ (intuitive intelligence) and psychological insight to make his efforts at moral and spiritual regeneration of man and society really effective. Apart from inculcating love of God, the Sufis strove hard to strengthen the moral fiber of man by drawing him to futuwwat (generosity and manliness).38 The mystic poetry of Iran consequently became a powerful vehicle for the dissemination of these ideas.

Looked at from this angle, Shaikh Abu Sa`^d Abul Khair was a powerful influence on Indian mind. He captured the imagination of Indian Sufis by his quatrains39 vibrating with emotions of human love and sympathy. Shaikh Nizâm al-Din Awliyâ', in particular, derived his mystic ideas and social ethics from him. His faith that real human happiness lies in large-hearted tolerance, compassion and good will towards all human beings was based on the teachings of Shaikh Abu Sa`id. He frequently recited these verses in support of his views:

Har-ki mârâ ranja dârad, râhatash bisiyâr bâd

Har-ki mâ râ yâr nabvad, Izad 'û râ yâr bâd

Har-ki andar râh-i mâ khâri nahad az dushmani

Har guli kaz bâgh-i `umrash bishkufad bî-khâr bâd.

(He who nurses ill-will against me may his joys (in life) increase,

He who is not my friend, may God be his friend,

He who puts thorn in my way on account of enmity,

May every flower that blossoms in the garden of his life be without thorns.)

The Indian Sufis derived from Shaikh Abu Sa`id's teachings the following principles of mystic morality:

1) Concern for the welfare of man as the summum bonum of mystic ethics.

2) Harmony in social relations as the basis of individual and collective happiness.

3) Ways of dealing with cognition, feeling and volition with a view to reforming human behavior.

4) Treating all living beings--man and animal--with equal affection.

5) Emphasis on cultivation of cosmic emotion in preference to intellectual pursuit.

6) Superiority of moral and ethical life over academic achievement.

7) Determinism and free will--extent and implications.

Inspired by Shaikh Abu Sa`id's teachings, Shaikh Nizâm al-Din Awliya' advised his followers to reform human responses at the stage of cognition. This was the surest way to bring about change in human character. Further he believed that a man with vast human sympathies alone understood the divine purpose of life. He admired Shaikh Abu Sa`id's benevolent attitude towards all living beings., men and animals. Shaikh Abu Sa`id once saw a man beating his bull and cried out in agony as if he himself was being beaten.40

Again inspired by the example of Shaikh Abu Sa`id Abul Khair, Shaikh Nizâm al-Din Awliya' told his disciples that a morally autonomous personality was superior to an intellectual prodigy. He cited the following incident of Shaikh Abu Sa`id's life. One day Bu Ali Sinâ visited khânqâh of Shaikh Abu Sa`id. He instructed an acquaintance to report to him the Shaikh's impression about him after he had left. The Shaikh on being asked by the person said: "Bu Ali is a philosopher, a physician and a man of vast learning, but he is devoid of moral qualities (makârim-i akhlâq nadârad)." On hearing this Bu Ali Sînâ wrote to the Shaikh that he had written several books on ethics. "How do you say that I do not have moral qualities?" The saint smiled and said:41

Man na-gufte-am ki Bu Ali makârim-i akhlâq na-dânad; bal gufte-am ki na-dârad.

(I did not say that B^ Ali does not know ethical qualities; I said that he does not possess them.)

In fact, Shaikh Abu Sa`6d and Khwâja `Abdullâh Ansâri, popularly known as Pîr-i Hari, supplied elan and motive power to the Muslim mystic activity in India. Pir-i Hari's risalahs sowed the seeds of later mystical didactic epic poems; his quatrains propagated mystic concepts as ideals of human behavior; his Tabaqât al-Sûfiya laid the foundation of biographical studies of Sufi saints, while his Munâjât provided fire and fervor to Sufi invocation gatherings. In his foreword to Sardâr Jogendra Singh's English translation of Munâjât, Gandhiji appreciated him as one of the best minds of all the religions of the world.

Shaikh Abu Sa`id and Pir-i Hari gave a revolutionary dimension to Sufi weltanschauung by defining the purpose of religious devotions in terms of the service of mankind. Countless genuflexions of prayer and endless fasts, they said, could not give divine significance to life, if not accompanied by deep and abiding concern for the welfare of man. They emphasized that life dedicated to social service was of greater value than pious contemplation in seclusion. Shaikh Mu`in al-Din Chishti's definition of devotion (tâ`at) as42

Darmândigân râ farâd rasîdan va hâjat-i bî-chârigân ravâ kardan va gurusnigân râ sîr gardânîdan

(Providing redress to the destitute, fulfilling the needs of the downtrodden and feeding the poor)

and Shaikh Nizâm al-Din Awliyâ's classification of devotion into tâ`at-i lazmi and t^`at-muta`addi43 are, in fact, echoes of the same spirit. Bîbî Fâtimah Sâm, a distinguished mystic woman of the thirteenth century, demonstrated the working of these principles in her life and shared her piece of bread with neighbors in straitened circumstances.44

An early Persian poet whose poetry influenced Indian mystics at the emotional level was Shaikh Ahmad Jâm. Shaikh Qutb al-Din Bakhtiyâr Kâkî breathed his last listening to his verses.

Sanâ'i presented mysticism as a philosophy of life. His diwân and Hadîqah were popular studies in India. The Hadîqah was read both in khânqâhs and the courts of the kings.45 Shaikh Nasîr al-Din Chirâgh of Delhi referred to Sanâ'i's life as a model of spiritual excellence. He invited people absorbed in materialistic pursuits to the realm of spirit by reciting the following verse of Sanâ'i:46

Ay ki Shanûdî sifat-i Rûm-o Chîn

Khîz-o biyâ mulk-i Sanâ'i be-bîn

(O' you who have heard of the glories of Rome and China; Rise and behold the realm of Sana'i.)

Shaikh Saif al-Din Bâkharzi's remark that Sanâ'i's verses made him a real Muslim,47 were often cited in the mystic circles of Delhi. Shaikh Nizâm al-Din Awliyâ' approvingly quoted the following supplication of shaikh Saif al-Din Bâkharzi:48

Ay-kâsh marâ bâd ânjâ barad ki khâk-i sanâ'i-st, yâ khâk-i `û biyârad ki man surmeh kunam.

(O' that some gale might take me to where San^'^lies buried, or that it might bring his dust to me to put in my eyes.)

During the time of Shâh Jahân, `Abdul Latîf `Abbâsi wrote a commentary on Hadîqah under the Laâ'if al-Hadâ'iq.49 From the time of Shaikh Nizâm al-Din Awliyâ' to the days of Dr. Muhammad Iqbal, Sanâ'i has been a powerful influence on Indo-Muslim religious thought. Iqbal's Shikwa, Iblîs Ki Majlis-i Shurâ etc. at once takes one's mind to Sanâ'i's "Lament of Satan." Unlike many contemporary mystics, Sanâ'i did not think of knowledge as hijâb-i akbar (the greater curtain preventing the vision of Reality). He, however, rejected over-intellectualism and defined the purpose of knowledge (`ilm)50 clearly and thoughtfully. According to him Sufism was an appeal to a higher source of knowledge.

Khwâja Farîd al-Din `Attâr's Mantiq al-Tayr and Tadhkirat al-Awliyâ' were avidly read in the Sufi circles of Delhi. The Mantiq al-Tayr provided an interesting excursion in the realm of the spirit and its symbolic approach inspired others to undertake similar works. Ziâ Nakhshabi's Tûtî Nâmah and Nâmûs-i Akbar seem inspired by `Attâr's technique. His Pand Nâmah was for centuries included in the syllabus of madrassahs and its sentences passed into aphorisms. `Attâr became a symbol of catholicity of thought and liberal tradition. His following verse was inscribed in the temples of Kashmir51and was recited in the khânâ^hs of Delhi as a veritable expression of the cosmopolitan spirit:

Kufr kâfer râ-o dîn dîn-dâr râ

Zarre-yi dardî dil-i `Attâr râ

Irâqi was another dynamic figure whose verses provided moral and spiritual animation to the Sufi movement in India. His Lama`ât captured the imagination of intellectuals; his diwân fascinated the Sufis. His `Ushshâq Nâmah traverses the same path of cosmic emotion that R^m^ has covered with greater artistic deftness and symbolistic vigor. His concept of ego and his emphasis on self-respect, resignation and contentment inspired Khusrau, `Urfi and Iqbal. Iqbal52was, in particular, deeply impressed by a risalah of `Iraqi, Ghâyat al-Imkân fî Warâyat al-Makân,53which contains striking modern concepts. He interpreted, remarks Iqbal, "his spiritual experience of time and space in an age which had no idea of the theories and concepts of modern mathematics and physics."54

With Rumi's Mathnawî the impact of Iranian Sufi traditions on South Asia touched its highest watermark. No mystic writer before or after him has succeeded in portraying soul movement and its subtle, inexpressible experiences with such perception and delicate sensitivity. Rumi believed in the creative urge of the self and visualized a long and unending process of its evolution and growth. He had a philosophy of life, a vision of moral and spiritual needs of man and society, a fine spiritual sensibility and a powerful imagination that made his delineation of delicate spiritual experiences a magical performance. In fact, he provided a picture gallery of mystic ideas and images. In India he was first quoted by Shaikh Nasîr al-Din Chirâgh, a disciple of Shaikh Nizâm al-Din Awliyâ'.55 In subsequent years the mystics were so enamored of his Mathnawi that they taught it to their disciples, heard it in their audition parties and expounded mystic ideas to their audience in the light of the anecdotes given in it. It provided a powerful technique to communicate mystic ideas symbolically. Akbar remembered by heart a large number of poems from the Mathnawi and enjoyed reciting them.56 Significantly, Rumi has selected some stories that are of Indian origin and there are many words in the Mathnawi that are common to Persian and Hindi, as `Abdul Latîf `Abbâsi (d.1648) has pointed out in his glossary of Mathnawi, the Latâ'if al-Lughat. I may refer, incidentally, to only two references to India in the Mathnawi. God thus speaks in the Mathnawi:

"In the Hindus the idiom of Hind (India) is praiseworthy,

In the Sindians the idiom of Sind is praiseworthy

I look not at the tongue and the speech

I look at the inward [spirit] and the state of feeling."57

At another phase Rumi says:

He whose adversary is his own shadow is not safe either in India or Khutan."58

These verses reveal Rumi's assessment of India. It is interesting to find that in Rumi's mind the Indian animal elephant was a symbol of nostalgic remembrance. At several places in the Mathnawi he says:

Pîl chun dar khâb bînad Hind râ

When the elephant dreams of India)9.

or,

Zân-ki pîl-am dîd Hindustân bi-khâb(Because my elephant dreamed of India) V.20.

Shams Tabrîzi was perhaps the first to present the Indian elephant in that way. He said:59

Dûsh âmad pîl-i mâ râ bâz Hindustân bi-khâb

Pardi-yi shab mî-darîd `û az junûn tâ bâmdâd

(Last night our elephant dreamed of India again

(Tearing madly at the curtain of night till the morn.)

The Indian Sufis drew inspiration from Rumi's moral and ethical ideals and admired his cult of `Ishq (cosmic emotion), but an integrated approach to his work on which could be based integration of individual personality and regeneration of human society was still far off. It was left to Iqbal to turn to Rumi for inspiration and guidance for this purpose. Iqbal's philosophy--his concept of khud^, his ideal of human excellence, his spiritual goals--were all determined by R^m^. Iqbal proudly calls himself a `disciple of Rumi'. Throughout the centuries, no one in India has been so deeply inspired by the Mathnawi as Iqbal was and none has fathomed the depth of Rumi's thought as minutely as Iqbal did. Emotionally speaking, Indian Sufis have always been in the domain of Rumi. A number of commentaries were compiled, particularly noteworthy being those of Muhammad Afzal Allâhâbâdi, Wali Muhammad, Maulânâ `Abdul Ali Bahr al-`Ulûm, Muhammad Râzî, Mîrzâ Muhammad Nazîr Arshi, Maulânâ Ahmad Husain Kanpûrî and Maulânâ Ashraf Ali Thanvi. The writer of these lines has two very interesting manuscripts of Mathnawi. One is a thematic summary made by Muhammad b. Dost Muhammad, a disciple of Khwâja Obeidullâh Ahrâr and another summary belonging to Shâh Waliullâh of Delhi with marginal notes by Abu Razâ.

While interest in Mathnawi was unabated throughout the centuries, it was Iqbal who found in Rumi a real guide in the arduous task of resurrecting the individual and the community. Iqbal saw Rumi in his imaginary excursion to the other world addressing him as zinda rûd (living stream).60 Inspired by Rumi's symbolic imagery, Iqbal adopted shâhîn as his symbol for selfless and persistent effort to achieve the goal and for hitching wagons to the stars. If there is any truth in Arnold's remark that noble and profound application of ideas to life is the most essential part of poetic greatness, Sa`adi and Rumi may undoubtedly be ranked among the great poets of all time.

Not marble nor the gilded monuments

Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme.

Muslim mystics of Iran looked at the Ultimate Reality from different angles--as self-conscious Will, as Beauty, as Light and as Thought. All these trends are reflected in the Indo-Muslim religious thought. The symbols captured the imagination and preserved concepts otherwise abstruse and difficult to comprehend. Shaikh Shihâb al-Din Suhrawardi Maqtul's (d.1191) Hikmat al-Ishrâq deeply influenced religio-philosophic thought. Who can say that his Âwâz-i Par-i Jibril did not suggest to Iqbal the title of his collection of poems Bâl-i Jibril (Gabriel's Wing). Suhrawardi presented human soul as an element of `light' (nûr) and God as `light of lights (nûr al-anwâr) and used color and light as symbols of spiritual development. Seyyed Hossein Nasr's thought provoking study of Bû Ali Sînâ, Suhrawardi and Ibn `Arabi is most helpful in fathoming the depth and impact of the thought of these three sages. Ishrâqî ideas reached India through the pupils of Mullâ Sadrâ, particularly Mîr Bâqer Dâmâd. Shaikh Mubârak, Mir Fathullâh Shirâzi, Abul Fazl and Faizî and a few others became ardent advocates of Ishrâqi philosophy. `Abd al-Nabî Shattâri (d.1611) wrote a commentary on Hikmat al-Ishrâq under the rubric Rûh al-Arwâh. The author of Anwâriya was a relation of the author of Tabaqât-i Akbari.

The thought of Ikhwân al-Safâ became a significant factor in the intellectual life of India during the time of Akbar. It was in a way a recycling of the ideas which were articulating through Kalîla wa Dimna. Akbar got a Persian version of Ikhwân prepared at his court. Rejection of denominationalism, faith in evolutionary concepts, astral influences, millenary ideas came from Ikhwân. Some of the concepts of Ikhwân were echoed in the A'în-i Akbarî.

Though lesser in impact and influence, the Nuqtawî movement of Iran also exercised some influence on religious thought in India. The Nuqtawi ideas spread in India through Sharîf Âmuli, Tashbîhi of Kâshân, Wuqû`î of Nîshâpûr. It appears from Târîkh-i `Alam ârâ-i `Abbâsi that Akbar had contact with Mir Syed Ahmad Kâshi.

Semasiological study of mystical terms with their subtle and fluctuating connotations in Iran and India is an interesting field for investigation and analysis. In Akbar's time Shaikh Muhammad Ghauth had made an earnest effort to transfer Hindu mystical concepts into Muslim mystical parlance. Shaikh ahmad Sirhindi was perhaps unique in fixing sharp, clear and penetrating connotation of mystic terms in the light of Islamic mystical concepts. During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, Indian semantics saw subtle clashes arising out of ideological backgrounds of terms flowing from Sanskrit, Arabic and Persian sources. However, some concepts were from the very beginning differently understood in India and Iran. For instance, the following observations by Shaikh Ali Hujwiri, the author of Kashf al-Mahjûb, about fanâ (annihilation) and baqâ (subsistence) are significant:

Some wrongly imagine that annihilation signifies loss of essence and destruction of personality, and that subsistence indicates the subsistence of God in man; both these notions are absurd. In India I had a dispute on this subject with a man who claimed to be versed in Koranic exegesis and theology. When I examined his pretensions I found that he knew nothing of annihilation and subsistence, and that he could not distinguish the eternal from the phenomenal."61

Mansûr Hallâj is a seminal figure in the history of religious thought. His works were mainly in Arabic but he was born in Iran and had visited many countries, including India. It was through Persian works that his ideas reached Indian mystics. He came to be regarded as an embodiment of the principles underlying the pantheistic philosophy. Opinion about him was, however, divided. The earliest Persian work to refer to him is the Kashf al-Mahjûb of Shaikh Ali Hujwiri who firmly held the view that `it would be an act of dishonesty'62 to omit his biography in any mystical work. He quotes Shibli, who is reported to have observed : "Al-Hallâj and I are of one belief, but my madness saved me, while his intelligence destroyed him."63 Hujwiri refers to his fifty works which he found in Baghdad and other places. Though he considered him an ecstatic (maghlûb andar hâl-i khud),64 he "derived much support from him" and even wrote a book in deference to his views. In one of his books entitled Minhaj, now extinct, Hujweri gave a biological sketch of Hallâj.65 Though Hujwiri seems deeply impressed by Hallâj and Kashf al-Mahjûb was a popular study in medieval India, the attitude of Chisht^ and Suhraward^ saints towards Hallâj was one of caution. They feared lest his pantheistic utterances led to moral confusion. During the time of Firûz Shâh Tughluq all those mystics who were inspired by Hallâji thought--Mas`ûd Bak, Ahmad Bihârî, Rukn al-Din and others--were charged with heresy and executed. Even as late as seventeenth century the state dealt strictly with Hallâji trends. The execution of Sarmad at the orders of Aurangzeb indicates the same attitude of disagreement with the views of Hallâj. Professor Louis Massignon once told me that his research suggests that Aush, where Khwâja Qutb al-Din Bakhtiyâr Kâki was born, was a Hallâji center and a focal point for the spread of pantheistic ideas in India.66 His friend and associate Qâzi Hamîd al-Din Nagauri was also keenly interested in the thought of Hallâj. His Risâla-i `Ishqiya bears an indelible stamp of Hallâji thought. As I have shown elsewhere,67 Hallâj's works were widely read in Chishti mystic circles. Hallâj's execution became a symbol of sacrifice for the sake of freedom of thought and poets found no better expression of communicating the spirit of sacrifice for a cause than the episode of Mansûr Hallâj. Iqbal found in his thought many elements of permanent value. In Jâvîd Nâmah he presents Hallâj as a dynamic force revealing secrets of khudî. In Zabûr-i `Ajam he depicts Hallâj along with Shankar and seems to suggest that he was inspired by vedantic philosophy.68 In his Metaphysics of Persia he presents Mansûr's slogan `I am God' as an echo of Indian Vedantist's Aham Brahmâ Asmi. In his Lectures on the Reconstruction of Religious Thought in Islam and in Jâvîd Nâmah he emphasized the originality of his thought and his greatness as a thinker. "In the history of religious experience in Islam, which, according to the Prophet, consists in the `creation of Divine attributes in Man', this experience has found expression in such phrases as `I am the creative truth' (Hallâj), `I am time' (Muhammad), `I am the speaking Qur'ân' (Ali), `Glory to me' (Bâyazîd),"69 observes Iqbal.

While Hallâj's ideological influence remained confined to higher mystic intellects, the impact of Imam Ghazzâli was more widespread. His Kîmiyâ-i Sa`âdat became a popular study throughout South Asia. Its passages were read out daily in some mystic centers.70 Though for all practical purposes it is a Persian recension of Ihyâ al-`Ulûm, the religious circles in India undertook to translate Ihyâ into Persian. During the time of Iltutmish, Muaiyid Jâjarmi translated it into Persian. Unique in the comprehensiveness of its approach and incomparable in its psycho-ethical analysis of the basic religious situations, the Kîmiyâ became a manual of guidance for the Indo-Muslim society. Ghazzali had himself been a student of Greek philosophy and as he confesses in his al-Munqidh min al-Zalâl was greatly disillusioned by philosophy. He came to believe in the efficacy of `cosmic emotion' which could unravel the mysteries of nature and give that solace and peace of mind which human soul longed for. His approach appealed to those also who believed in the supremacy of reason and thus its impact was felt on a wide scale.

The Kashf al-Mahjûb consolidates mystic ideas as they had developed in Iran and Central Asia up to the eleventh century. The author had personal contact with many eminent mystic teachers like Hasan Khuttali and Abul Qâsim Gurgâni. Dârâ Shukoh considers Kashf al-Mahjûb as the first book on mysticism written in Persian. This may or may not be correct, but it is a fact that Kashf al-Mahjûb exercised tremendous influence on contemporary and later religious thought, not only in India but in Iran also. Jâmi quotes from it extensively in his Nafahât al-'Uns. In India Shaikh Nizâm al-Din Awliyâ' used to say that for one who had no spiritual mentor, Kashf al-Mahjûb was enough to guide.71

At the purely intellectual level it was Ibn `Arabi (d.1240) who dominated the scene. Though his works were in Arabic, it was mainly through Persian channels that his ideas found currency in India. The key and kernel of Ibn `Arabi's thought is pantheism, the earliest exposition of which is found in the Upanishads. It was thus a recycling of ideas that had originally traveled from India under different rubrics. The pantheistic philosophy provided an ideological bridge between Islam and Hinduism. Though commentaries on Ibn `Arabi's works were written in India by Syed Ali Hamadâni of Kashmir, Ali Piru Mahaimi of Gujurat and others, the ideas of Ibn `Arabi fascinated the Indian Sufis when `Irâqi and Rumi prepared the ground for their reception. Mas`ûd Bak's Dîwân as well as his Mir'ât al-`Ârifîn reflect the influence of Ibn `Arabi. Shâh Muhibbullâh of Allhâbâd wrote commentaries on Ibn `Arabi's works both in Arabic and in Persian. From the sixteenth century onward enormous literature appeared in India on the mystical ideas of Ibn `Arabi. Shaikh Ahmad Sirhindi's criticism of pantheism gave a temporary set-back to this trend, but when Shâh waliullâh attempted a reconciliation between the thought of Ibn `Arabi and Sirhindi pantheistic ideas again became a force in the mystic sphere.

In the propagation of Ibn `Arab^'s mystical thought Mahmûd Shabistari's Gulshan-i Râz also played a very important role.72

One of the most distinguished Persian Sufis who was a very enthusiastic advocate of Ibn `Arabi's ideas was `Abdur Rahmân Jâmi (d.1492). His literary works and his mystical ideas were well known in India during his lifetime. Mahmûd Gawan corresponded with him and Jâmi created in him an interest in Ibn `Arabi's thought.73 The last great mystic itinerant who visited Iran was Maulânâ Fazlullâh, better known as Jamâli. His meeting with Maulânâ Jâmi at Harat was a historic event. Due to long and arduous travels, Jamâli had no clothes on his body when he entered the majlis of Maulânâ Jâmi. Jâmi was a bit displeased when he saw a beggar-looking visitor sit near him regardless of the dust and the dirt that had enveloped his body. When Jâmi came to know about his Indian origin, he asked him if he knew Jamâli. Jamâli recited the verse

Mâ râ za khâk-i kûyat, pîrâhani-st bar tan

ân ham za âb-i dîdeh, sad châk tâ bi-dâman

(I have on my body a garment made of the dust of your lane,

And that too tears have torn into hundreds of pieces.)

and as those verses ran on his lips tears trickled down his cheeks and rolled on his body piercing the garment of dust. Jâmi stood up excited, embraced him with mixed feelings of surprise, love and embarrassment. This meeting between Jâmi and Jamâli was in fact a historic meeting between mystic traditions of India and Iran. Jâmi had written Nafahât al-'Uns to popularize the great mystics of Islam and their teachings; Jamâli wrote Siyar al-`Ârifîn on his return, perhaps inspired by Jâmi and after him compilation of mystic tadhkirahs gathered momentum in India.

The ethical and moral ideas enunciated by Persian masters like Sa`adi, `Attâr, Rûmi, Sanâ'i and `Irâqi became the inspiring motive of the lives of the Indian saints. Taken as a whole, the Persian Sufi ideas and traditions supplied to Muslim mystical movement in South Asia its motive power, its driving force, its ideals and its goals.

(The Work of the Imaginaire“in South Asian Islam(part2

III.  EMBODYING THE PATH

 

            The Chishti Sabiri project of imagining Pakistani Sufism is articulated in a creative inscription of the tradition’s roots and enduring relevance within the contemporary geo-political landscape.  For today’s Chishti Sabiri practitioners, however, it is the continuity of embodied and enacted ritual practice which provides the most tangible link to their sacred past and a bulwark against the social and cultural shifts occasioned by global modernity.  Sufi praxis centers on techniques of mental and bodily discipline, a routinized and rigorous ritual praxis grounded on a comprehensive epistemology and detailed theory of subjectivity.  Upon entering a Sufi order, a disciple (murid) relinquishes personal autonomy, surrendering selfhood to the will of a teacher (murshid, pir, or shaykh). [1]  To quote a well-known adage, the murid’s  surrender must be total and uncompromising, “like a corpse in the hands of a washerman.”  In practice, however, the dynamic and intensely personal relationship with a spiritual mentor demands a careful (and constant) balancing act between submission to hierarchical authority and an enduring imperative for individual action and moral responsibility.  It is the shaykh who guides the novice disciple through the twists and turns of the Path, but progress is impossible in the absence of individual acquiescence, determination and discipline.  This complex balancing act, in turn, is continuously reinforced among a broader community of adepts.  Though an individual’s spiritual progress ultimately depends on personal effort, disciples provide their spiritual compatriots with a vital support system—sharing experiences, clarifying doubts, ambiguities and anxieties, and participating in collective ritual activities.  By examining some of the stories Chishti-Sabiri murids tell themselves and each other about the methods, meanings and experiences of the Sufi spiritual journey (suluk), this analysis offers further insights into both the continuities and changes in the construction and articulation of post-colonial identity amid the shifting landscape of today’s Pakistan.  For contemporary Chishti Sabiri adepts, it is these shared narratives—as well as the interface and intimacy of the central master-disciple relationship--that perpetuate and preserve the legacy of Muhammad Dhawqi Shah, Shahidullah Faridi and Wahid Bakhsh Rabbani.[2] 

            Although there are prominent exceptions to the rule, the contemporary followers of the Chishtiyya-Sabiriyya-Zauqiyya silsila fit a general profile:  educated, middle class and mobile urban professionals.  Most murids move fluidly between multiple epistemological, linguistic and geographical universes, many having extensive networks of family and friends living abroad in the Gulf, England, Canada and the United States.  Though well acquainted with the instruments and ideology of modernity, many disciples come from families with a long history of Sufi affiliations, and without exception they stress the centrality of their Sufi identity and practice in their busy, complex lives. [3]  The order’s current teaching shaykh—the khalifa of Shahidullah Faridi—Siraj Ali, is himself the embodiment of this dominant pattern:  a fourth generation Chishti Sabiri, he was a graduate of the prestigious Pakistani Air Force college and the senior most pilot for Pakistan International Airlines until his recent retirement.  He is multi-lingual, a computer expert, and travels frequently both within Pakistan to visit his own disciples and abroad to see his sons and daughters (among them doctors, bankers and computer specialists) currently living in the US.  The background and make-up of both the shaykhs and the bulk of the disciples in this order, it should be emphasized, entirely contradicts the prevalent stereotypes of South Asian Sufi practitioners as marginalized, rural and uneducated Muslims which their critics (Islamists and secularists alike) invariably evoke to explain away the ubiquity and continuity of Pakistani Sufi allegiances and practices. 

            In response to their detractors who denigrate Sufism as a perversion of the reified traditions of an idealized Muslim past, today’s Chishti Sabiri practitioners are quick to reclaim the sunna and the sharia as the foundations of their own faith and practice.  In the words of one murid, a conservative, middle aged woman who lived for 20 years in both Saudi Arabia and Turkey and who now runs an informal madrasa for women in Lahore:

The argument which I give to myself and to whoever asks is that our Prophet (PBUH) was the greatest Sufi.  Self negation in everything, that was his way.  But, at the same time, he was so disciplined.  Each moment of his life was within the sharia.  What is Sufism?  It is self-negation, controlling your self, controlling your nafs.  And what is shariaSharia is there to guide you, to keep you within bounds.  And if you don’t have the boundaries, you just do whatever you want to do.  And then even tasawwuf is indulgement.  You’re indulging, you’re enjoying it.  Escapism!... Tasawwuf has kept his [the Prophet’s] life, his role model alive.  If you take the ulama, if you take the people who are just practicing the sharia without the spirit of it, it would have been just dry.  The spirit of sharia is tasawwuf.[4] 

 

This is a typical refrain:  far from being a peripheral practice, or the outgrowth of external cultural accretions, Sufism is re-positioned at the very heart of Muslim history, belief and practice.   Muin ud-Din Chishti Ajmeri, Baba Farid Ganj Shakar, Nizam ud-Din Awliya, Ahmad Ali Sabir, Muhammad al-Ghazali, Ibn al-Arabi, Abd al-Qadir Jilani, Jalal ud-Din Rumi—stories and legends about a host of Sufi luminaries are constantly circulated among Chishti Sabiri disciples in order to reaffirm this mantra.   In this logic, the challenge for modern Pakistani Muslims eager to experience the deepest truths of their own tradition is to (re)discover the discipline of the Path, guided by a living spiritual master (shaykh) who is the true heir of the Prophet teachings.  As a senior male murid—a middle aged professional in Lahore—put it: 

Our antennas are so deeply attuned to the material world.  We rarely tune in to the spiritual transmitter.  It’s rare to transcend and really examine the spiritual world.  There is a whole world there that directly impacts this material world, what we’re doing here.  Allah Ta’allah is the source of the spiritual transmission.  He’s on 365 days a year, 24 hours a day.  Its up to us to find the frequency.  If you want to find this frequency, you must join a tariqa.  The shaykh is your antenna.  I use this example to help explain.  A computer, for example, is a very powerful thing.  But unless someone is there to push the button, its worthless.  The real thing is seeing, in Persian and Urdu, deed.  Once true vision happens, everything else falls into place.  Your shaykh is the only catalyst who can do it for you.[5] 

 

The use of technological metaphors here is telling, a reflection of the worldview and experience of many Chishti Sabiri devotees who consciously see themselves as modern (even post-modern) Muslims, fully enmeshed in the contingencies of the lived-in, localized world of contemporary Pakistan while simultaneously committed to a disciplined life of the spirit which links them to a sacralized past.  

            Time and again in interviews, Chishti Sabiri murids highlight the distinction between outer/exoteric (zahir) and inner/ esoteric (batin) dimensions of knowledge and experience.   As the “science of the heart”, they assert, Sufism aims at a balance, a complementarity between these two realms—a purification of the inner self which, in turn, manifests itself in external behavior (adab).[6]   In private, many murids vociferously condemn their co-religionists whose narrow focus on outward displays of piety, they assert, veils a woeful ignorance of Islam’s deeper meanings.  Predictably, they are especially critical of the Deobandis who, they maintain, have perverted the original teachings of their own Chishti-Sabiri founders.  This critique, often couched in stories of direct personal confrontation, also extends to the Ahl-e Hadith, Wahhabis, the Jama’ati Islam and the Tablighi Jama’at—the very groups that dismiss Sufism as an-Islamic cultural accretion in public discourse.  A quote from a conversation about the increasing “Talibanization” of Pakistani society with a senior murid—a family member of Shaykh Wahid Bakhsh Rabbani who holds a doctorate in engineering from an American university—encapsulates this critique:

The Taliban see themselves as reformers, a movement to restore past glory.  The logic is we must become exactly like the Sahaba [the early community surrounding the Prophet Muhammad].  But you can not be like that—the Prophet and the Sahaba are not coming back!  This is just imitation (taqlid), nothing else.  Imitating them without their purification and perfection...You see, a focus on outward display is an easy way out for something that is simply not so easy.  The sunna of the Prophet is beyond the capacity of any Muslim.  That’s why the emphasis is on the outward, because that you can do easily.  I think it’s incumbent on all Muslims to try to follow the sunna of the Prophet in all areas. But there is a difference between imitation and sunna.  The outward becomes mere imitation.[7]

           

            What we have here is nothing less than a battle over the definition of Islamic orthodoxy itself, a public wrangling over authority and authenticity, a debate about who knows, and who has a right to speak for “Islam.”  For the Chishti Sabiri practitioners, the answer is unambiguous—only the Awliya Allah (the Friends of God), whose authority, forged through self-discipline and experiential knowledge, carry the mantle of the Prophet.  In the words of another senior male disciple:

Our group is not like the Jama’ati Islami and others.  You are not told that you should behave in this or that manner.  It is just the way you feel inside.  If someone is sleeping during salat time, let him sleep.  In the Tablighis, however, you couldn’t imagine not praying at the exact times!  We reject all elements of compulsion or force—if they are there, the khalus isn’t there.  There is a saying of Hazrat Shahidullah Faridi that you can’t do dawa without permission.  Until you are explicitly given permission, you are just a student, you have no business doing dawa.  So many of these maulvis give passionate speeches.  People leave in tears.  But people don’t change!  It’s because these maulvis do not have permission to speak.  The shaykhs do not say a word, but people’s lives are profoundly changed—they have the express permission to do dawa. [8]

 

As this quote suggests, Chishti Sabiri murids find simplistic attempts to reify, synthesize, codify and systematize Islamic piety and practice highly dubious.  True knowledge, I was told time and time again, must be earned through a disciplined journey along the Path under the watchful tutelage of a spiritual master.  In the absence of individual moral and spiritual reform cultivated under the discipline of ‘ibadat, channeled through strict adherence to shari’a and grounded in the rigors of suluk , any attempt to institutionalize top-down social reforms is doomed to failure.  Such rhetoric, they argue, is nothing more than un-Islamic political posturing. 

            In both their public and private conversations, Chishti Sabiri murids highlight the importance (and difficulties) of balancing the mundane demands of the world (dunya) with the pursuits of a life of the spirit (din).   Long hours at the office, increasing demands of time, money and family life, the incessant worries brought on by political instability and economic uncertainty in urban Pakistan—being in the world but not of it is easier said than done.  Acknowledging that the social landscape has changed, Chishti Sabiri disciples look back on their pre-modern predecessors with a palpable sense of envy and nostalgia.  They regretfully acknowledge, however, that the days of the traditional Khanqah—the pre-modern Sufi hospice memorialized in classical malfuzat texts—have come and gone.  Accepting the paramount need to respond to the realities of modernity, there is a constant refrain that a new time demands a new paradigm for Sufi practice.  Suluk, the Chishti Sabiri disciples maintain, must be adapted to suit the needs of the day.  In the words of a senior male murid:

 I think that the saints have concluded that it’s not possible now, to have a Khanqah where everyone would live together in one place.  Because of the requirements of the times, the requirements of jobs with everyone living such a fast pace of life.   This is why we see a totally different type of emphasis—it’s how Sufism deals with the modern age.  The thing which is emphasized is not to give up your spiritual exercises, even as you remain fully engrossed in the day to day workings of the modern world.  Whatever you are doing.  That’s the message to almost every murid, whether he is in business, an engineer or an Army officer.  The course length, the number of hours you put in is probably shorter.  Hazrat Wahid Bakhsh used to say “Now you can get a lot by doing very little.”  In previous times people  had to do a lot of mujahida [spiritual work] to get a little [spiritual growth].  Today, staying away from TV is a mujahida.  Staying away from all the worldly activities.  Hazrat Siraj Sahab says those 3 rules of “less talking, less eating, less sleeping” are not really applicable these days.  He said, “So what is it now that’s required?  Less socializing.”[9]

 

            Given the increasing worldly demands that each disciple must bear, suluk itself demands a firm resolve and unwavering personal discipline.  “A serious person on the Sufi Path,” one murid told me, “is recommended to do spiritual work four to five hours a day, in addition to their job and daily routine.  Two to three house in the morning after fajr, and one to two hours after isha prayers.  It’s all your intention.  It all comes down to your seriousness.  A student studying for A-levels studies this much.  It affects your ability to socialize—you’re cut off from outsiders, even family.  Your guest list just drops off!”[10]   Progress on the Path, disciples assert, rests primarily on a person’s attention to their own spiritual homework—for the Chishti Sabiris a daily diet of supererogatory prayers, Qur’an recitation, dhikr and muraqaba as prescribed by the teaching shaykh.

            Significantly, disciples recognize this increased emphasis on individual action and moral responsibility as a key modification of the traditional paradigm.  Since murids are no longer able to live together in an insular monastic setting—instead gathering when they can for weekly communal dhikr sessions and for annual urs celebrations—the personal, intimate relationship between master and disciple assumes an even greater importance, as does the individual’s personal commitment and discipline.  Once they have taken bayt (a formalized oath of allegiance) with a shaykh, Chishti Sabiri disciples are strongly discouraged from seeking spiritual advice from outside the insulated boundaries of the silsila.  Similarly, initiations in multiple Sufi orders—a common practice among pre-modern Chishti Sabiri spiritual masters—are now proscribed.  This too is seen as a response to the times:  given the weighty demands of both din and dunya, a firm commitment to a single guide and a single path are indispensable for spiritual development.  In the words of a highly respected, elder murid:  “There are so many branches to the Chishti silsila.  Just here in Karachi there may be 300 or 400 branches.  There are many Chishti Sabiris too—some branches have been merging.  We don’t maintain contact with them at all.  We don’t mix with anyone.  Once you’re a murid, you stay in one place, in one silsila.  You don’t go around with others.  Before you’re a murid, its alright to visit other silsilas though, and other shaykhs.”[11]  When asked about the adage that a Sufi disciple must be “like a corpse in the hands of a washerman” with his or her spiritual mentor, another senior male  murid explained:

This statement does not mean inaction on the part of the murid.   This surrender implies total obedience, but not sitting idle.  Being very active in total obedience, like a good servant, a servant who is running around all day.  Your submission is such that if the shaykh sends you one hundred times to the store to fetch something, you happily do it a hundred times.  That is being like a corpse.  Whatever the shaykh utters, whatever he prescribes, you do it with full enthusiasm.  Actively striving.  That’s the essential part.  And this still implies individuality.[12]

 

            For most Chishti Sabiri murids then, the Path is a highly individual affair—daily spiritual practices are carried out in isolation, and largely confined to the private realm of the home, early in the mornings or late at night.  Face to face contact with the shaykh (sohbat) remains a prized, if rare, opportunity.  In Karachi, Hazrat Siraj Sahab—currently the order’s only teaching shaykh­­­­—leads weekly halqa (collective dhikr sessions) on Thursday evenings, and holds an open, public dars (an informal question and answer lecture session) at his own home on Sunday mornings.  In Lahore, a senior male murid, the nephew of Wahid Bakhsh Rabbani, also leads a weekly halqa.  Those who can find the time come, though it remains a dedicated inner core who generally attend these regular communal ritual gatherings.   For most murids, access to the shaykh is often limited to infrequent visits to Karachi or, more typically, relegated to Cyberspace, where the shaykh provides advice on both temporal and spiritual matters via email letters (the fluid incorporation of technology into suluk is another important modern concession). 

            So what of the broader sense of silsila—of a shared, communal Chishti Sabiri identity?  Where is it located and how is it marked?  For the modern Chishti Sabiris, it is the annual pilgrimages (ziyarat) to the shrines (mazars) of Sufi saints where this collective consciousness is most clearly expressed and experienced.   In the silsila, four yearly urs [death anniversaries] are celebrated:  the urs of Khwaja Muin ud-Din Chishti Ajmeri (6 Rajab) and Baba Farid Ganj Shakkar (5 Muharram) in Pakpattan Sharif, the urs of Shahidullah Faridi (17 Ramadhan) in Karachi, and that of Wahid Bakhsh Rabbani (24 Zikat) in Allahabad (southern Punjab).  Significantly, this pilgrimage calendar has been reconfigured in response to the legacy of Partition since the redrawing of geo-political boundaries on a map has occasioned a parallel shift in sacred space and ritual practice.  For example, since travel to India is now exceedingly difficult, Chishti Sabiris now celebrate the urs of Muin ud-Din at the shrine of Baba Farid in Pakpattan.  The transfer of political and religious boundaries is further delineated by the recent emergence of entirely new Chishti Sabiri sacred spaces on Pakistan soil evidenced in the growing tomb cults of Shahiduallah Faridi in Karachi and Wahid Bakhsh in Allahabad.  On the occasions of these urs celebrations, Chishti Sabiri murids travel from all over Pakistan and beyond, gathering together for several days of intense spiritual immersion.  In effect, urs now serves as a serial Khanqah—a rare opportunity for Chishti Sabiri murids to live together in the presence of their shaykh and perform prayers, dhikr, muraqaba and, most significantly, sama together, as a collective, unified whole.  This too is recognized as a modern innovation, a necessary response to the needs of the times.  As one male murid  explained:

[In pre-modern days] there were too many living saints, and travel was difficult, so urs probably didn’t have that much country-wide or continent-wide significance.  But now with modern travel, no khanqahs and fewer living shaykhs, this has assumed a greater importance.   They [Chishti Sabiri shaykhs] don’t discourage people who fly from Canada, or even Jeddah to come and attend the urs.  It’s that valuable.  People are encouraged to part with so much money.   The Malaysian murids, they also come.  That’s also tazkiyya-e nafs.  Then they get a short refresher, 6-7 days.  And that is what is not understood by most other people, the traditionalists who think of it [urs] in negative terms....I think the festive part of it has remained for a very long time, people coming and offering nazranas [ritual gifts] and things.  But this kind of attendance we have, it is not for nazrana, its not for anything else but the rigorous company of the shakyh.[13]

 

            It is at the urs ceremonies where disciples, particularly novices, benefit from the knowledge and experiences of their peers through a complex nexus of story telling.  Between prayers and ritual disciplines, disciples can be found sitting together in small groups where they recall personal experiences—dreams, visions, doubts and fears—and narrate legends about past spiritual masters and the lives of their own shaykhs.  In the words of a young male novice:

A lot of guidance comes indirectly as well through these group activities.  I missed three or four urs because of my job.  The urs in Allahabad [the shrine of Wahid Bakhsh Rabbani] recently was one of the first urs I’ve been to after two years.  I was amazed at the amount of things I picked up, and realized I was missing, just by living with the other murids.   If you as a murid had sat with the shaykh three years ago and heard him say something, you’d narrate that.  Or you’d say that you read it in a book and then discussed it with him, and his interpretation was this or that.  We keep learning in this way.[14] 

 

This dynamic spiritual support system—this serial Khanqah—provides Chishti Sabiri murids a vital if rare forum to clarify doubt and ambiguities, share collective wisdom and learn about the tradition’s roots directly from each other.

            The Chishti Sabiri’s ritual calendar is punctuated by these vital outlets for collective ritual activity and identity formation.  Yet, in questioning murids about their own notions of silsila allegiances—their personal sense of belonging to a broader, corporate whole—I was surprised to discover that many disciples were quite unaware of the order’s history and communal identity.   As one particularly knowledgeable elder male murid explained to me, this is only to be expected in the contemporary environment in which the Path is increasingly traversed in isolation.  Interviewed at the urs in Pakpattan Sharif, this particular disciple took Western scholars of South Asian Sufism to task (by name and with references to their books!) for their obsession with spiritual genealogies and the resulting one-dimensional portraits of Sufi orders as public, corporate institutions.  His words are worth quoting at some length:

The thing that needs to be corrected in Western scholarship is this over emphasis on the silsila’s organization. This isn’t a workshop or a reunion [urs].  None of us knows about each other’s spiritual state or development.  The sole purpose is to be in the presence of the shaykh.  Once we leave here it is all individual.  You don’t even tell your wife about how you pray or do dhikr, even if she asks.  You don’t tell each other, “I’m doing 6000 dhikrs a day and so many muraqaba.”  This is a great misconception.  It doesn’t operate like the Tablighis!  There is no kinship here.  If there is a Chishti shaykh next door, I will not go and see him.  I will have respect for him in my heart though.  Even murids of the same shaykh don’t consult with one another.  We have individual meetings with the shaykh, and spiritual progress is never discussed in public.  ‘Chishti Sabiri’ is our lineage—our family name.  Its more like an airplane.  Passengers buy tickets, check in their luggage, take their seats and fly.  Then they collect their luggage and leave.  We’re all there at Pakpattan.  Not as a community association, but simply because of the occasion of the urs.  Nothing else.  It’s natural that you will develop relationships and love with your fellow murids, but that’s not the initial purpose—as it is for some groups like the Tablighis.  There is no planned group work as such, it is all between the shaykh and the murid.  The most important part of suluk is what you do every day at home, every day and night.  Those who don’t work the whole year, they still benefit from urs.  They my start working.  But we do not try to create a group mentality.  It’s not a group, a sect.  The objective is the cleaning of the heart in the company of the shaykh.  The shaykhs do not even bother about their own family—their sons and daughters.  Though suhbat and barakat their children may achieve high stations, but often not.  The shaykhs are so fixed on God, everything else is less important.  The difference with other pseudo-Sufi groups is important.  The main point for us is to be in the presence of the shaykh and the shrine [of Baba Farid].  The shaykh [Hazrat Siraj Sahab] is also here to seek spiritual development.[15]

 

           This is a revealing (if atypical) statement about the significance of tariqa affiliations to contemporary Chishti Sabiri Sufi identity, both individual and collective.  Certainly, silsila commitments and communal identity still matter.  Chishti Sabiri disciples remain attuned to spiritual genealogy, if generally uninformed about the hagiographical details;  the recitation of the order’s shajrah, or spiritual family tree, for example, remains an important ritual activity.  Likewise, murids spend a lot of time telling stories about past shaykhs, continuously revisiting the words and deeds of their predecessors, the spiritual luminaries of their collective tradition.  They call themselves the “Chisthi Sabiri Zauqi silsila” and maintain strict borders and ritual boundaries which define who is in and who is not.  They travel together and live together for short but intensive periods of communal spiritual immersion during urs celebrations.  Many also attend weekly communal dhikr sessions.  There is, in short, a palpable sense of shared experience and a common vocabulary for Chishti Sabiris to describe and resolve their individual doubts, ambiguities and desires.  Even so, it may be wrong to over-emphasize these formal institutional linkages when trying to understand and explain how Sufism is experienced, understood and articulated by most Sufi disciples.  For most contemporary Pakistani Chishti Sabiri adherents, spiritual life centers on the figure of the living master and the one-to-one, direct and highly personal relationship between pir and murid

           Within this symbiotic system, the living shaykh is understood as the heir and embodiment of all that has gone before—the living reflection of the Prophet himself.  While the silsila’s formal, historical linkages—inscribed in biographical texts and retold in a shared narrative network—offer a blueprint for spiritual progress, the Path is most often traversed alone.   In this sense, the environment of the silsila’s communal gatherings can be somewhat misleading to the outside observer, creating a rather distorted impression that such forums for collective ritual experience are the daily norm.  Since others happen also to be linked to the same shaykh, a sense of communal identity does emerge, but this broader network emerges post-facto and is not the primary nexus of the individual seeker’s daily (and nightly) spiritual journey.  For the contemporary followers of the Chishti Sabiri order, the private individual master-disciple linkage remains the primary locus and focus of Sufi practice.  Working and living amid the landscape of modern, urban Pakistan, these spiritual seekers—as their pre-modern predecessors before them—continue to ground a Sufi habitus on the adab of pir-murid relations.[16]  

 

 

IV. CONCLUSION

            In the pursuit of the powers of coercion and control, the colonial and post-colonial State has consistently attempted to co-opt, appropriate and manipulate the sites, heroes and symbolic capital of South Asian Sufism.  Pre-modern Muslim saints are publicly embraced as poets and proto-nationalists, Sufi shrines are marked and celebrated as sacred national spaces, and individual spiritual masters (shaykhs or pirs) and hereditary custodians (sajjada nashins) are integrated into state institutions and ideology as political agents and power brokers, mediators in regionalized networks of local identity and power.  With rare exception, Western scholars of Islam—Islamicists and social scientists alike—have encapsulated Sufi thought and practice in precisely the same terms.  In this paper, however, I have suggested that Sufism—inscribed in texts, mediated through personal networks, transmitted via the intimate master-disciple relationship and firmly grounded in a technology of personal discipline and embodied ritual praxis­­—could not and can not be so easily codified, delineated, tabulated, appropriated or controlled.  As a result, the complexity, dynamism and continuity of Sufi knowledge and practice have evaded the gaze of the State and, to a large extent, the purview of academic scholarship. 

For the Chishti Sabiri Sufis of Pakistan, the cultural and political changes spurred by Partition prompted a reconstitution and re-imagining of the silsila’s history, organization and ritual expression.  Since Partition, Chishti Sabiri shaykhs have endeavored to inscribe a sacred history that places Sufism—and specifically the genealogy and ritual practices of their own silsila—at the very center of national identity.  Adopting the idioms of modernity—the language of science, rationalism and the market—they employ the instruments of mass media (from the printing press to Cyberspace) to engage a broad national and international audience, arguing for the compatibility of a Pakistani identity that is simultaneously modern, Muslim and mystic.  In private spaces as well, Chishti Sabiris have recognized the imperative for reform, the pressing need to respond to the times.  The transformation of ritual space reconfigured by new geo-political boundaries is only the most obvious example of Pakistan’s altered political and spiritual landscape.  For individual disciples, the contingencies of modern, urban life—the increased demands of the workplace, the imperative for mobility and travel, the pervasive ambiguity and anxiety compounded by social, political and economic instability—have also forced a reassessment of how best to balance the demands of the practical, lived-in world (dunya) with the discipline (and rewards) of the spiritual quest (saluk).  While the frequency and location of Chishti Sabiri ritual practice has been modified to accommodate contemporary realities, at the level of the individualized, embodied Self, there remains a striking continuity.  Within the rigors of the Sufi Path, both the technologies of bodily discipline (experienced through ritual activities performed under the strict tutelage of a shaykh) and the interpretive frameworks of selfhood remain very much intact.  It is here, at the level of the Body and the realm of subjectivity, that Chishti Sabiri Sufism remains firmly rooted in tradition, linked to its pre-modern historical, genealogical, ontological, epistemic and heuristic foundations.  In short, in today’s Pakistan, Chishti Sabiri Sufism is imagined and inscribed anew in texts, even as it is continuously embodied and enacted in ritual contexts.

 
Selected Bibliography

 

 

Anderson, Benedict.  Imagined Communities:  Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism.  London:  Verso Press, 1983/ 1991. 

 

Ansari, Sarah F.D.  Sufi Saints and State Power:  The Pirs of Sind, 1843-1947.  Lahore:  Vanguard Books,  1992.

 

Appadurai, Arjun.  Modernity at Large:  Cultural Dimensions of Globalization.  Minneapolis:  University of Minnesota Press, 1996.

 

Asad, Talal.  “Religion, Nation-State and Secularism.”  In Nation and Religion:  Perspectives on Europe and Asia, edited by Peter Van der Veer and Hartmut Lehmann, 178-196.  Princeton:  Princeton University Press, 1999.

 

_____.  "The Idea of an Anthropology of Islam."  In Occasional Paper Series, by the Center for Contemporary Arab Studies, Georgetown University.  Washington, D.C.:  Georgetown University Press, March, 1986, 1-23.

 

Bourdieu, Pierre.  The Logic of Practice.  Translated by Richard Nice.  Stanford:  Stanford University Press, 1990.

 

Buehler, Arthur F.  Sufi Heirs of the Prophet:  The Indian Naqshbandiyya and the Rise of the Mediating Sufi Shaykh.  Columbia:  University of South Carolina Press, 1998.

 

Chatterjee, Partha.  The Nation and its Fragments:  Colonial and Postcolonial Histories.  Princeton:  Princeton University Press, 1993.

 

Cornell, Vincent.  Realm of the Saint:  Power and Authority in Moroccan Sufism.  Austin:  University of Texas Press,  1998.

 

Currie, P.M.  The Shrine and Cult of Mu'in al-Din Chishti of Ajmer.  Delhi:  Oxford University Press,  1989.

 

De Jong, Frederick and Bernd Radtke (eds.).  Islamic Mysticism Contested:  Thirteen Centuries of Controversies and Polemics.  Leiden:  Brill, 1999.

 

Dhawqi Shah, Sayyid Muhammad.  Letters of A Sufi Saint to Jinnah.  Talifaat-e Shaheedi, 2000.

 

Dugger, Celia W.  “Indian Town’s Seed Grew Into the Taliban’s Code”.  In The New York Times, February 23, 2002. 

 

Eaton, Richard M.  Sufis of Bijapur 1300-1700:  Social Roles of Sufis in Medieval India.  Princeton:  Princeton University Press,  1978.

 

_____.  The Rise of Islam and the Bengal Frontier, 1204-1760.  Berkeley:  University of California Press,  1993.

 

Eickelman, Dale F. and James Piscatori.  Muslim Politics.  Princeton:  Princeton University Press, 1996.

 

Ernst, Carl W.  Eternal Garden:  Mysticism, History, and Politics at a South Asian Sufi Center.  New York:  State University of New York Press, 1992.

 

_____.  The Shambala Guide to Sufism.  Boston:  Shambhala Publications, 1997.

 

Ernst, Carl W. and Bruce B. Lawrence, Sufi Martyrs of Love:  Chishti Sufism in South Asia and Beyond (Paulist Press, forthcoming).

 

Esposito, John (ed.).  Voices of Resurgent Islam.  New York:  Oxford University Press, 1983.

 

Ewing, Katherine Pratt.  Arguing Sainthood:  Modernity, Psychoanalysis and Islam.  Durham:  Duke University Press, 1997.

 

Gilmartin, David.  Empire and Islam:  Punjab and the Making of Pakistan.  Berkeley:  University of California Press, 1988.

 

Jawed, Nasim Ahmad.  Islam’s Political Culture:  Religion and Politics in Predivided Pakistan.  Austin:  University of Texas Press, 1999.

 

Keddie, Nikki R.  An Islamic Response to Imperialism:  Political and Religious Writings of Sayyid Jamal al-Din al-Afghani.  Berkeley:  University of California Press, 1983.

 

Lawrence, Bruce B.  Defenders of God:  The Fundamentalist Revolt Against the Modern Age.  San Francisco:  Harper and Row Publishers, 1989.

 

_____.  Notes From a Distant Flute:  The Extant Literature of Pre-Mughal Indian Sufism.  Tehran:  Imperial Iranian Academy of Philosophy, 1978.

 

_____.  “The Early Chishti Approach to Sama.”  In Islamic Society and Culture:  Essay in Honor of Professor Aziz Ahmad, eds. Milton Israel and N.K. Wagle, 69-93.  Delhi:  Manohar Publications, 1983.

 

Lee, Robert D.  Overcoming Tradition and Modernity:  The Search for Islamic Authenticity.  Boulder:  Westview Press, 1997.

 

Liebeskind, Claudia.  Piety On Its Knees:  Three Sufi Traditions in South Asia in Modern Times.  Delhi:  Oxford University Press, 1998.

 

Malik, Jamal.  Colonization of Islam:  Dissolution of Traditional Institutions in Pakistan.  Lahore:  Vanguard Books, 1996.

 

Metcalf, Barbara Daly.  Islamic Revival in British India:  Deoband, 1860-1900.  Princeton:  Princeton University Press, 1982.

 

_____., ed.  Moral Conduct and Authority:  The Place of Adab in South Asian Islam.  Berkeley:  University of California Press, 1984.

 

Mitchell, Timothy (ed).  Questions of Modernity.  Minneapolis:  University of Minnesota Press, 2000.

 

Nasr, Seyyed Vali Reza.  Islamic Leviathan:  Islam and the Making of State Power.  Oxford:  Oxford University Press, 2001.

 

Nizami, Khaliq Ahmad.  "Chistiyya."  In Encyclopedia of Islam, Vol. 11, 50-56.  Leiden:  E.J. Brill,  1965

 

Pinto, Desiderio.  Piri-Muridi Relationship:  A Study of the Nizamuddin Dargah.  Delhi:  Manohar Press,  1995.

 

Qureshi, Regula Burckhardt.  Sufi Music of India and Pakistan:  Sound, Context and Meaning in Qawwali.  Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 1986.

 

Rabbani, Wahid Bakhsh.  Maqam-e Ganj Shakkar.  Lahore:  Al Faisal Publishers, 1994.

 

_____.  Pakistan ki Azim ush-Shan Difai Quwwat.  Lahore:  Al Faisal Publishers, 1989.

 

­­_____., ed.  Tarbiat al-‘Ushaq.  Karachi:  Mehfil-e Zauqiyya, 1958.

 

_____.  The Magnificent Power Potential of Pakistan.  Translated by Brigadier Muhammad Asghar.  Lahore:  Al Faisal Publishers, 2000.

 

Rizvi, Saiyid Athar Abbas.  A History of Sufism in India.  Vol. I, Early Sufism and its History in India to 1600 A.D.  Delhi:  Mushiram Manoharlal Publishers,  1975.

 

Schimmel, Annemarie.  Mystical Dimensions of Islam.  Chapel Hill:  University of North Carolina Press, 1975.

 

Sirriyeh, Elizabeth.  Sufis and Anti-Sufis:  The Defence, Rethinking and Rejection of Sufism in the Modern World..  Richmond, Surrey:  Curzon Press, 1999.

 

Tibi, Bassam.  The Challenge of Fundamentalism:  Political Islam and the New World Disorder.  Berkeley:  University of California Press, 1998.

 

Troll, Christian (ed).  Muslim Shrines in India.  Delhi:  Oxford University Press, 1992.

 

Van der Veer, Peter.  Religious Nationalism:  Hindus and Muslims in India.  Berkeley:  University of California Press, 1994.

 

Werbner, Pnina and Helene Basu, eds.  Embodying Charisma:  Modernity, Locality and the Performance of Emotion in Sufi Cults.  New York:  Routledge, 1998.

 



[1] For details on the states (hal), stations (maqam) and psychology of the Sufi Path, see Buehler, Schimmel, Ernst and Lawrence.  On the Chishti tradition of sama’, see Ernst (1997), Lawrence (1983) and Qureshi.

 

[2] The following ethnographic survey is drawn from taped interviews (in Urdu, English and, frequently, a mix of the two) with Chishti Sabiri murids conducted during14 months of dissertation research in Pakistan under the auspices of fellowships from the Social Science Research Council (SSRC) and the American Institute of Pakistan Studies (AIPS) from September 2000 to November 2001.  At the request of senior figures in the silsila, I have withheld the names of individual respondents in the interest of privacy and anonymity. 

[3] Wahid Bakhsh Rabbani also had nearly one hundred Malaysian disciples.  I spent a month in Kuala Lumpur in November, 2001 with this dynamic group of murids who maintain their own dhikr circles, publish a wide range of Sufi texts and travel frequently to Pakistan for pilgrimage.  The spread of the order into Southeast Asia marks an intriguing break from the tradition’s South Asian roots—an instructive comparative model to explore the re-imagining of Chishti Sabiri thought and practice in diverse localized contexts within global modernity. 

[4] Interview recorded March 9, 2001 in Lahore.

 

[5] Interview recorded October 15, 2000 in Lahore.

[6] For broader insights on the centrality of adab in Indo-Muslim thought and practice, see Metcalf (1984).  For a comparative study of the concept in North African Sufi traditions see Cornell.

 

[7] Interview recorded October 1, 2001 in Lahore.

[7]Interview recorded April 24, 2001 in Lahore. 

 

[9] Interview recorded August 26, 2001 in Lahore.

[10] Interview recorded October 30, 2000 in Lahore.

[11] Interview recorded in Karachi on the occasion of the ‘urs of Shahidullah Faridi, December 15, 2000.

 

[12] Interview recorded March 16, 2001 in Lahore.

[13] Interview recorded August 26, 2001 in Lahore.

 

[14] Interview recorded March 22, 2001 in Islamabad.

[15] Interview recorded April 25, 2001 in Lahore.

[16] On the idea of habitus, see Bourdieu, The Logic of Practice.

(The Work of the Imaginaire“in South Asian Islam(part1

Rob Rozehnal, Duke University

North Carolina State University

April 13, 2002

IMAGINING SUFISM:

RECONSTITUTING THE CHISHTI SABIRI

SILSILA IN CONTEMPORARY PAKISTAN

Within the combative discursive landscape of contemporary Pakistan, Sufism remains an emotive, multi-valent and highly contested symbol.  In a vociferous debate over Islamic authority and authenticity, a broad spectrum of competing groups—Islamists, reformists, secular intellectuals, neo-colonial political elites, the ulama and Sufis themselves—evoke Sufi doctrine, piety and practice to either defend or decry the tradition’s Islamic credentials.  Throughout South Asia, the lives of Sufi saints are deeply woven into local poetry and legends, and Sufi shrines remain vital centers of popular pilgrimage—fonts of local piety, identity and ritual practice.  Even so, many of the activities and groups associated with Sufi shrines are viewed with intense ambiguity and suspicion, particularly by Islamist groups—Wahhabis, Ahl-e Hadith, Deobandis and a diverse array of religious parties—who denigrate Sufism as an impure, un-Islamic accretion.  When it comes to Sufism, lines are drawn and sides are chosen. [1]

Sufism in Pakistan, however, is not merely enshrined and enacted in the popular practices surrounding the tomb complexes of long dead saints, or inscribed in the ecstatic poetry of pre-modern literary luminaries.  Beyond these static public manifestations—echoes of a long and storied Indo-Muslim past—Sufism remains a vibrant, living teaching tradition, communicated in the intimate exchange between master and disciple (pir-murid) and experienced through ritual performance.  As a case study of Islam’s internal debate over the roots of orthodoxy and external engagement with the institutions and ideology of modernity, this paper offers a portrait of how Sufi identity and practice have accommodated to the localized, territorialized milieu of contemporary Pakistan. [2]  My focus centers on the lives and enduring legacy of a trio of spiritual masters (shaykhs) from one of the Subcontinent’s oldest and most dynamic Sufi lineages: the Chishti-Sabiri silsila.  Collectively, these Chishti Sabiri shaykhs endeavored to sacralize the Land of the Pure and cement Pakistani religious and national identity through the public inscription of a sacred Sufi history and the private transmission of knowledge (ma’rifa) grounded on the disciplinary techniques of embodied and enacted ritual praxis (suluk).  At a deeper level, this multi-faceted project aimed at imagining, articulating and reconstituting Pakistani Sufism offers further evidence that modernity itself is ultimately translated, staged and performed in localized, particularized settings, outside the geography and ideology of the West and beyond the gaze of the colonial and post-colonial State.[3]

I.  THREE MODERN PAKISTANI CHISHTI SABIRI MASTERS

  I begin with a few words on the Chishti-Sabiri silsila.  Breaking from the lineage of the predominant Nizami branch in the thirteenth century, the eponymous founder of this sub-branch of the prolific Chishti order, Ali Ahmad Sabir (d. 1291), initiated an alternative model of spiritual asceticism and withdrawal from public, urban life and the allure of the royal courts.  From the beginning, the Sabiris were much less visible than their Chishti-Nizami counterparts—renowned for their intense, awe-inspiring (jalali) personalities, Sabiri shaykhs stuck to more rural locales, made fewer public appearances, trained fewer devotees, wrote fewer books and avoided building large shrine complexes (dargahs).[4]  Within the heightened atmosphere of polemics and competition spurred by resistance to colonialism and the lurching transition towards Partition, however, Chishti-Sabiri Sufis increasingly came to view silence and withdrawal as untenable.  Mounting the public stage to defend their tradition from its critics, prominent Chishti Sabiri shaykhs called for social reform, founding educational institutions like the famous Deoband madrasa and publishing a broad range of texts.[5]  Yet even as South Asia’s changing social, cultural and ideological landscape forced a radical rethinking of the order’s public posturing, the discipline of Sufi ritual—the embodied techniques of the Path centered around the intimate master-disciple relationship including dhikr (ritual chanting), muraqaba (meditation), ziyarat (pilgrimage), dream interpretation and sama (musical assemblies)—remained the enduring bedrock of Chishti Sabiri identity and practice.  In today's Pakistan, spiritual masters of the Chishti-Sabiri order continue to guide their followers (murids) along the Sufi path, armed with a spiritual genealogy (silsila) that links them directly to the authority and legacy of the Prophet Muhammad.  While the contours and challenges of the Path remain the same, the changing social, cultural and ideological landscape of contemporary Pakistan has forced a radical rethinking of the order's traditional modus operandi.  Given this continuous—but contested—tradition, I view the re-emergence and reconstitution of the Chishti-Sabiri order on the public stage of post-colonial Pakistan stands as an unprecedented historical anomaly worthy of further scholarly attention.

            My research focuses in particular on three important Chishti-Sabiri leaders whose lives paralleled the birth and development of Pakistan itself:  Muhammad Dhawqi Shah (d. 1951), and his two principal successors (khalifas), Shahidullah Faridi (d. 1978), and Wahid Bakhsh Rabbani (d. 1995).  Standing at the crossroads of modernity, these Pakistani shaykhs embodied the complexity and contradictions of their times, and their lives and legacies offer novel insights into post-colonial subjectivity and its relation to religious identity and expression.  Dhawqi Shah was an early graduate of Aligarh University and went on to pursue a career in journalism and politics before emigrating to Pakistan and devoting himself exclusively to his spiritual duties as a Chishti-Sabiri shaykh.  His designated successor, Shahidullah Faridi, was an Englishman from an exceedingly wealthy industrialist family in London who, along with his elder brother, converted to Islam in 1936 and traveled widely throughout the Muslim world in search of spiritual knowledge. [6]   Moving to Pakistan with his spiritual mentor following Partition, Shahidullah spent the last thirty years of his life in Karachi immersed in Sufi practice, guiding his own corps of disciples.   Wahid Bakhsh Rabbani served in the British Indian Army in Malaysia during the Second World War, returning to Pakistan to work as a civil servant before committing himself to a life of scholarship and piety.  Collectively, the experiences of these modern Chishti-Sabiri shaykhs provided them with a unique perspective on Pakistani Sufism and its relation to colonial and post-colonial structures of authority, knowledge and power.   Educated (not, as their ulama counterparts, in traditional madrasas, but rather in Western-style universities), multi-lingual, urban and mobile, these spiritual exemplars moved fluidly in multiple cultural complexes and epistemological universes.  Acquainted (and profoundly disillusioned) by direct engagement with the instruments and ideology of the colonial and post-colonial State, they appropriated and critiqued the language of science, nationalism and secularization while revalorizing the centrality of Sufi history, thought and practice as the bedrock of an imagined Pakistani religious and national identity.  In what follows, I survey the enduring legacy of these three modern Sufi masters with selections from their voluminous writings along with ethnographic interviews from numerous contemporary disciples (murids) in order to assess how Chishti Sabiri Sufism has adapted to the challenges of life in today’s Pakistan. 

 

II.  IMAGINING AND INSCRIBING PAKISTANI SUFISM

Deviating from the precedent of their pre-modern predecessors who largely avoided urban spaces and networks of royal patronage in favor of a life of spiritual quietism and withdrawal in rural locales, Muhammad Dhawqi Shah, Shahidullah Faridi and Wahid Bakhsh Rabbani each entered the contested public sphere to stake their own claims to Islamic authority and authenticity.  Though it is clear that their principal loyalties, commitments and identities remained centered on their duties as teaching shaykhs, they also recognized the need to defend the Chishti Sabiri tradition in public discursive forums.  Evoking the model of political engagement established by his nineteenth century predecessors Hajji Imdadullah Muhajir Makki (1818-1899) and Rashid Ahmed Gangohi (1829-1905), Muhammad Dhawqi Shah drew on his experiences and expertise as a journalist to inscribe a new vision of Chishti Sabiri identity through a diverse range of publications.[7]  The Shaykh went even further in his political activism.  Attending the first meeting of the Muslim League in Karachi in 1907, he formally joined the organization in 1940 and went on to serve as vice-president for the district of Ajmer.  A confidant of Muhammad Ali Jinnah, Dhawqi Shah wrote a series of letters to Pakistan’s future leader, a lengthy and lively correspondence which has recently been published by the silsila in a book entitled, Letters of a Sufi Saint to Jinnah.[8]  Among contemporary Chishti Sabiri disciples, the Shaykh is remembered for both his high spiritual status and political clout as an early Pakistani nationalist.  In Tarbiat al-Ushaq, a compilation of Dhawqi Shah’s discourses (malfuzat) compiled by his two khalifas, Wahid Bakhsh Rabbani writes:

People generally know that Quaid-e Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah was the founder of Pakistan, but it was all due to the spiritual leadership of Hazrat Shah Sahab, being inwardly the real founder of Pakistan.  This is a fact, that from ancient times the saints of the Chishtiyya silsila have always had an upper spiritual hand in the conquest of Hindustan...That is why Hazrat would often say, ‘Hindustan is the inheritance of the Chishtis’.[9]

 

In this reified, triumphalist imagining of a sacralized Indo-Muslim past, the Chishti Sabiri historigraphical project deviates radically from that of that of its Islamist counterparts.  Here, Sufi saints—and, in particular, Chishti Sabiri spiritual masters—are not portrayed as navel gazing, peripheral, marginalized mystics.  Rather, they are placed firmly at the forefront of both religious and political life, guiding and sanctifying the teleological evolution of Indo-Muslim culture from the Delhi Sultanate through the birth, under the spiritual direction of Muhammad Dhawqi Shah himself, of the Land of the Pure (Pakistan). 

According to the silsila’s contemporary biographers, the Chishti Sabiri prerogative for the spiritual and political guidance and protection of the Subcontinent continues unabated in the wake of Partition.  In Maqam-e Ganj Shakkar, Wahid Bakhsh champions the legitimacy of Shahidullah’s inheritance:  “After Hazrat Mawlana Dhawqi Shah, the political charge of India was handed over to his foremost khalifa, Hazrat Shah Shahidullah Faridi.  The apparent and hidden spiritual political duties that were carried out by him are well know to those with spiritual insight.” [10]  Though he wrote comparatively less than his mentor, Shahidullah Faridi also published numerous tracts, principally manuals on Sufi history and ritual practice.  And while he was not as publicly active or vocal about politics as his predecessor, the Shaykh remained deeply concerned with Pakistan’s development, particularly after the emergence of General Zia al-Haqq and his opportunistic embrace of a narrow, Arab-centric Islamism.[11]  In a remarkable speech delivered to his murids on February 3, 1977, Shahidullah directly entered the political fray, warning his followers of imminent political dangers for Pakistan [General Zia took over political power in a military coup just five months later, in July 1977] and advising them to lend their direct support to Zulfikar Ali Bhutto.  In a letter addressed to his followers, Shahidullah asserts that his usual reluctance to engage in public discussion of political matters has been trumped by a vivid dream of the Prophet Muhammad:

On Tuesday night, the 18th of Safar (February 8th, 1977) I had a vivid dream in which the Lord of the Two Worlds, the noble Prophet of Allah (May Allah bless and keep him) came to this house in kingly garb and with royal dignity and spoke to me with great emphasis.  He referred to Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto and his party and said, ‘You must support our candidate.’  (Hamare candidate ki himayat karo)  He said this three or more times.  The thought crossed my mind that prayer alone was a way to support him.  So with this thought in mind I asked, ‘What is the best method of supporting him?’  He answered the thought which was in my heart with ever greater emphasis and some admonishment.  ‘No, you must support him!’  This meant that simply praying was not enough, but open support is necessary.  In fact, the whole purpose of the dream or vision appeared to be this, for I had made the intention during the day that I would only pray and not converse with people on this subject.  Since this is a command, the whole of the silsila must enter into it.  So please act upon it and inform all our people to do so.[12]

 

For Chishti Sabiri practitioners, Shahidullah’s dream of the Prophet offers irrefutable evidence of the righteousness of their cause—a Divinely sanctioned affirmation of the imperative for a socially engaged Pakistani Sufism.

Within the contemporary Chishti Sabiri order, however, it was Wahid Bakhsh Rabbani who clearly inherited the literary mantle and political legacy from his shaykh, Muhammad Dhawqi Shah.  Encompassing a massive collection of letters to his disciples, numerous translations of pre-modern Persian biographical texts, treatises on ritual practice, and polemical pieces defending the Chishti Sabiri tradition from its detractors, Orientalists and Islamists alike, Wahid Bakhsh produced a voluminous corpus of texts, wide ranging in scope and scale, and written in both Urdu and English. [13]  While a survey of this vast literary legacy is well beyond the scope of this paper, in the following pages I analyze one particular text, written late in Wahid Bakhsh’s life, that most lucidly encapsulates the contemporary Chishti Sabiri silsila’s imaginings of Pakistan and the roots of its national and religious identity:  Pakistan ki Azim ush-Shan Difai Quwwat or The Magnificent Power Potential of Pakistan.[14]

The Immense Power Potential of Pakistan is a weighty book, more than 550 pages in length in both its Urdu and English manifestations—a scale equaled by its scope which ranges from a comprehensive analysis of early Islamic military history to a survey of the legacy of Indo-Muslim culture, culminating in a frank assessment of Pakistan’s position (and, as the title suggests, “power potential”) in the contemporary global order.  It is a unique and in many ways atypical work in a market glutted with religious literature, much of it ideological and highly polemical.  Even for Wahid Bakhsh, whose literary pursuits embraced multiple genres in diverse registers, this work stands out.  In this text, the Shaykh employs a scholarly narrative voice to place Pakistan in its historical and geo-political context, but with a subtle, subversive twist that places Sufism at the very center of both Islamic thought and practice and Pakistani national identity and ideology.  For Wahid Bakhsh, Pakistan is rightfully both an Islamic and Sufi republic!

The Shaykh’s political magnum opus is firmly grounded in historical context.  In my mind, much of the book’s assumptions and assertions and all of its polemics are understood only against the backdrop of late Cold War South Asian geo-politics.  The book was written at a time of profound upheaval and uncertainty for Pakistan:  internally, the military dictatorship of Zia al-Haq and the resulting debates over Islamic orthodoxy and its relationship to the state and, externally, the de-stabilizing proxy war in Afghanistan fought by US-sponsored mujahidin groups against the Soviets.  Amid these turbulent times, Wahid Bakhsh appeals to a sacralized, reified Islamic history in order to make sense of Pakistan’s past and future.  In a striking reversal of Samuel Huntington’s spurious thesis, The Magnificent Power Potential of Pakistan rests on a pervading sense of the “Clash of Civilizations”—in this case an essentialized, homogenized “West”—meaning, for the author, Europe, America and, by extension, its satellite state, Israel—perpetuating the colonial legacy in an attempt to subvert and control the Muslim world, both culturally and politically.   In Wahid Bakhsh’s words: 

Now that the valiant people of Asia and Africa have expelled the colonialists, they are trying to stage a comeback by weakening these countries from within.  They are applying direct as well as indirect strategies, which include naked aggression, subversion, a cultural offensive, an economic aid offensive, a technical aid offensive and the so-called ‘peace’ offensives.  The Muslims must wake up to assess and respond to these seemingly innocuous but otherwise more dangerous dimensions of threats.[15] 

 

Echoing the polemical attacks of numerous Islamists (from al-Afghani to Mawdudi), the Shaykh castigates the West for its hypocrisy, cruelty, greed and violence.  Obsessed with its endless quest for power, money and conquest, it is now morally bankrupt.  Though technologically advanced, Wahid Bakhsh asserts, it has sacrificed religion in the name of science, secularism and worldly gain. and it is this fatal choice, he maintains, that will be the West’s undoing:  

They accepted what related to the physical sciences and what contributed towards material progress, but rejected what belonged to the purification of self, spiritual progress and success in the life Hereafter.  Consequently, their one sided development has created a culture which is unstable, imbalanced and moving on a single track.  Since they rebelled against their religion, they have been deprived of the treasures of religious knowledge.  They have jumped from one extreme to the other, as they have run away from absolute renunciation and walked into the trap of absolute materialism.  They have rejected absolute superstition but adopted absolute secularism.  Their absolute hatred for women has been replaced by absolute sexual frivolity.  They have freed themselves from religion, but got into a race for material progress and national superiority.  In their reckless pursuit of power they have stumbled, only to discover that the weapons of mass destruction, which they claim as their proud inventions, are there to destroy the entire edifice of their civilization.[16] 

 

As Partha Chatterjee’s work illustrates, this rhetorical move parallels the ideological formations of early Indian Nationalism, appropriating the nation-state while turning Orientalist essentialisms on their head to valorize a spiritualized “East” against a Godless “West”.[17]  As a response to the West’s cultural and political challenge, Wahid Bakhsh calls upon Muslims to reclaim and resurrect their own spiritual heritage in order to attack the neo-colonialists where they are most vulnerable and stake their own claim to modernity.  In his words:

The miraculous power of Islamic spirituality is so strong that we, the Muslims, are not required to pick up swords to conquer the spiritual wastelands of the West.  Since every heart by nature years for Divine love and Divine bounty, any heart with a spiritual vacuum is absolutely defenseless against the expanding spiritual torrent of Islam.  The West is helpless and exposed to the ingress of the Truth.  The process of Islamic conquests in spiritually starved humanity is therefore an eternal and continuous process.[18]

 

For this modern Sufi master, a return to the lost Golden Age of Islam presupposes a revitalization of the roots of Islamic orthodoxy:  for him, the immutable blueprint enshrined in the Qur’an, sunna and, most significantly, Sufi thought and practice.  Throughout the book, Wahid Bakhsh continuously evokes numerous Sufi exemplars, among them Imam Ghazali, Ibn Arabi, Junaid Baghdadi, Jalal ud-Din Rumi, Bayazid Bistami, Sayyid Ali Hujweri and, as befits a Chishti Sabiri shaykh, the early luminaries of the Chishti silsila:  Khwaja Muin du-Din Chishti and Baba Farid ud-Din Ganj Shakkar.  In Wahid Bakhsh’s eyes, these saints embody the virtues of the Prophet himself:  piety, self-sacrifice, sincerity, charity, humility and a commitment to social justice.  Their lives and legacies, the Shaykh asserts, offer a moral compass for Muslims and disenchanted Westerners alike.  In his words, “We, the Muslims, must realize that the Westerners themselves are alienated against the Western civilization.  They have very high hopes and high expectations from Islam.  The new manifestation of religion which I have pointed to is the ever-increasing demand of the West for Sufism.  It is our first and foremost duty to offer Sufism to the West.  And in this lies the secret of our success.” [19]  The West, Wahid Bakhsh maintains, is ready for a fall, and it is Sufism—the heart of Islam and the essence of orthodoxy—that stands ready to fill the “spiritual vacuum.”[20]

            The bulk of The Magnificent Power Potential of Pakistan centers on a comprehensive (and profoundly ideological) review of Islamic military and cultural history.  From the outset of his narrative, Wahid Bakhsh challenges his fellow Muslims to revive the glory of the umma by embracing the lessons of the past—a neglect of Islam’s traditions, he asserts, has resulted in doubt, weakness and civilizational drift.  In his words:

One of the causes of Muslim decline is their indifference to and detachment from their glorious history.  This book therefore brings to focus the feats of valor, operational brilliance and tactical excellence of the great captains of Islam.  It also throws light on the contributions of our forefathers to science, technology, artistry, social sciences and cultural fields.  The aim is to pull our Westernized and defeated minds out of their inferiority complex so that they realize that the are sparkling stars of the glorious galaxy of the Muslim civilization and culture.[21] 

 

Beginning—as any narrative of Islamic sacred history must—with the early community of believers surrounding the Prophet Muhammad, Wahid Bakhsh explores the subsequent march of Islamic conquest and cultural florescence, from the Hijra to Medina and the military conquests of Persia, Byzantium and Spain, to the Crusades, the fall of the Ottoman Empire and resistance to colonial regimes.  The Shaykh gives particular attention to Muslim incursions into the Subcontinent and the subsequent rise of a unique Indo-Islamic civilization.  Throughout his analysis, Wahid Bakhsh lauds the self-confidence, faith, bravery and bravado of the pre-modern Muslims. 

In this context, he also offers a spirited defense of the honor and necessity (the orthodoxy!) of jihad— a simultaneous “struggle” against both the lower self (the Greater Jihad or Jihad-e Akbar) and the enemies of Islam (the Lesser Jihad or Jihad-e Asghar).  Muslims, Wahid Bakhsh argues, are compelled by their faith to fight against oppression, injustice and tyranny, and he invokes the Qur’an (An-Nissa, Verses 74-76) to “urge the Muslims to fight for Truth and Justice, and wage Jihad for human rights.”[22]  Detailing the rules of military engagement, the Shaykh asserts that a just war demands discipline, moderation, mercy, and firm limits of conduct;  torture, mutilation, the killing of non-combatants, for example, are strictly forbidden.[23]  Aware of the Western polemic against jihad, Wahid Bakhsh remains unapologetic, taking the West to task for its hypocrisy and double standards: 

Some Western thinkers criticize Jihad.  Their criticism is not understandable as they themselves have acquired greater wealth and power by subjugating weaker peoples, conquering foreign territories and plundering others’ treasuries.  Their hands are stained with the blood of many innocent and weaker nations.  If enhancement of national superiority and imperialism through exploitation of weaker nations is considered legitimate by them, how do they criticize Jihad, the objectives of which are to extirpate falsehood, uphold Truth, uproot oppression, eliminate infidelity (kufr) and associationism (shirk), and wipe out all kinds of malpractices?[24] 

 

The rapid spread and fruition of Islamicate civilization affirms the fruits of just struggle—a paradigm Wahid Bakhsh urges modern Muslims to emulate in order to reclaim their own Divine destiny. 

Wahid Bakhsh’s historiographical imaginings convey a triumphalist and teleological portrait of Islamic sacred history, culminating in an attempt to re-imagine the origins of Pakistan as foreshadowed in a Divinely sanctioned, sacralized past.  In his words:

The creation of Pakistan is therefore not a fortuitous happening, or the consequence of an accident of history.  It is rather a Divine reward for the centuries of sacrifices, toiling and tribulations of the Mujahidin of Islam.  Those visionary leaders had sensed that the decline of the Ottoman and Mughal empires would spell disaster for the Muslims and their future would be absolutely dark.  The Muslims had to be rescued, and an ideological state like Pakistan was a dire necessity of the time and the right answer to the prayers of the millions of oppressed human beings in general, and the Muslims in particular.[25] 

 

A patriotic nationalist, Wahid Bakhsh asserts that contemporary Pakistan carries the mantle of the “first Pakistan”, the Muslim state formed by the Prophet Muhammad and the early community of believers in Medina.[26]  In his eyes, Pakistan is rightfully an ideological state, modern but not modernist, Islamic but not Islamist.  Written forty years after Partition, however, Wahid Bakhsh’s discourse is permeated by a sense of moral outrage, indignation and loss.  In his view, Pakistan, mired in poverty, nepotism, corruption and a profound crisis of identity, has betrayed its auspicious beginnings and failed miserably in its mission to revive the spirit and values of the Prophet’s Medina:

[The Muslims of South Asia], their dream was Pakistan—a Muslim state based on the ideology of Islam and a state founded on the edifice of Nizam-e Musafa [the state system of the Prophet in Medina], and a state which would be the precursor of Islamic renaissance.  By the grace of Almighty Allah, the sacrifices, toiling and efforts of the Muslims led to the creation off Pakistan.  A part of the dream had come true:  we had a geographic entity called Pakistan, and we had to develop it into a citadel of Islam.  But alas, we lost our way!  We forgot the lofty ideals and objectives for which Pakistan was created.  We changed our direction and we drifted away from our course—the course that would have led us to Mecca Muazzamah and Madina Munawwarah.  We are now heading towards temples, churches and abodes of idolatrous practices.  We had sought to make Pakistan a fortress of Islam.  But we have turned it into the center of greed, corruption, luxury, materialistic values and internal discord.[27] 

 

 

This conception of Pakistan as an Islamic State, the constant evocation of the paradigm of Mecca and Medina, and the pervading sense of social and moral decay mirrors the arguments and rhetorical style of numerous Islamist ideologues.  Wahid Bakhsh’s portrait, however, is distinguished by his assertion that Sufi history, thought and practice is at the heart of Islamic (and, by extension, Pakistani) identity.

Incensed by Pakistan’s crisis of identity, Wahid Bakhsh calls for widespread societal revival and reform to combat this endemic cultural rot.   In the Shaykh’s assessment, individual moral reform is the vital precursor to the revitalization of social and political institutions, and he attacks those who call for top-down structural changes in the absence of a prevailing change in the way people think and act: 

Some of our impatient politicians, who include some religious scholars as well, claim that they can reform the society only after coming to power.  And that too despite the prerequisites spelled out by the tradition of the Prophet (Peace be upon him).  Unless the masses are reformed, pious and virtuous individuals will not come to power...In order to bring pious individuals to power, we need to commence our work at the grass roots level.  Piety will not trickle down from top to bottom.  Reconstruction of any nation is possible only if scholars, educationalists, reformers and thinkers reform the masses by interacting with them.  There is a need to establish religious schools, arrange talks for the common men, write articles in newspapers, magazines and journals, write books and help in the control and eradication of crime from society.  Once the society is reformed, virtuous people will emerge in accordance with the laws of nature.[28]

 

Islamic values and practice, Wahid Bakhsh asserts, can not simply be codified, systematized and enforced, they must be inculcated, internalized, embodied and enacted.   Once again, the Shaykh champions the Golden Age of the early community surrounding the Prophet as the eternal, universal paradigm—a ready made blueprint, he asserts, through which national policy and public institutions can emerge directly from piety and practice. 

            Calling for an educated, pious elite to lead the Pakistani masses back to their Islamic roots, Wahid Bakhsh asserts that the restoration of Pakistan’s foundations is not solely a spiritual battle, but one that must be fought simultaneously on multiple worldly fronts.  Though frequently short on details, the Shaykh offers a broad palate of prescriptions designed to purge Pakistan of its colonial vestiges.   He calls for legal reforms to institutionalize and enforce sharia [29]; educational reforms to promote science and technology while solidifying “religious literacy”[30]; economic reforms to promote growth and stability while eliminating interest (riba) and the vicious cycle of the debt trap laid by international monetary institutions[31]; sweeping military reforms to secure internal social stability and promote a unified front of Islamic nations to resist Euro-American, Israeli and Indian “expansionism and hegemony”[32]; and political reforms to institutionalize an “Islamic democracy” under the leadership of an educated, pious elite of select “intellectuals, scholars, thinkers and social reformers.”[33] 

None of these structural realignments will be possible, Wahid Bakhsh asserts, if Pakistan fails to overcome the forces of internal dissolution and division.  Regionalism and local ethnic identity politics, for example, threaten nation unity, undermine political institutions and weaken the boundaries of defense.  In the Shaykh’s words:

We need to bury our political, religious and ethnic differences and face the enemies of Islam like a solid wall...Nationalist parties are raising slogans of ‘Pashtunistan’, ‘Azad Balochistan’, and ‘Sindhu Desh.’  But selfish motives, mutual rivalries and jealousy blind them.  They do not realize that four smaller countries, which they wish to create, will be swallowed by India overnight.  Their dreams of independence will be shattered and their personal ambitions ruined. When the necks are chopped off, who will wear garlands?  And what use is the crown when the heads have rolled?[34] 

 

An even greater danger to Pakistan’s integrity and the growth of global Islamic networks, Wahid Bakhsh argues, is the specter of religious sectarianism.  Drawing on a well-known Hadith, he calls for Muslim unity, maintaining that divisions within the umma are a blessing, promoting healthy debate and competition which deepens faith and solidifies piety.  The proliferation of sectarian groups—Wahahbi, Deobandi, Alh-e Hadith, Barelwi and Shia alike—waging a war with words and guns against their fellow Muslims threatens Pakistan’s very survival.  Instead of using religion for political gain, the Pakistani state should endeavor to promote similarities rather than exacerbate differences.  In Wahid Bakhsh’s words:

These differences among Sunnis, Shias, Barelwis, Deobandis, Muqallids and non-Muqallids are of a peripheral nature.  They have nothing to do with the core issues of Islam on which, by the grace of Allah, the entire Ummah has consensus...We must not worry about the sectarian differences while enforcing Islam in the country.  Our constitution should permit all sects to practice religion the way they want.  The Government should enforce only those clauses on which all the sects have consensus, such as prohibition of interest, laws of inheritance, prohibition of drinking, adultery, corruption and criminal procedures.  Peripheral or controversial issues like visits to the shrines, sama [listening to music], ta’ziya [Shia processions during Muharram], and milad [public celebration’s of the Prophet’s birthday] should be left to the individual sects.[35] 

 

In Wahid Bakhsh’s optimistic assessment, once its own house is in order Pakistan can realize its full potential as a central player in the global geo-political order.  Here he characterizes Pakistan as a key buffer state for Middle Eastern and Asian countries alike, a counter-weight to the West’s hegemonic designs.   In a spirited call to arms, he challenges his fellow Pakistanis and Muslims to work together to resist the perpetuation of global neo-colonialism:

Colonization of the entire under-developed world by the West has a lesson for all the Muslims and non-Muslims.  Strong Islamic Empires did and can even now help to protect the rest of humanity from the ravages of the West...Although colonialism has ended and the physical size of European empires has shrunk to their native lands, they continue to dominate the international politico-economic sphere and exploit the weak nations on the basis of their industrial power, economic prosperity and military muscle...India and other Asian countries must therefore strengthen Pakistan rather than weaken it.  The politicians and religious clergy of Pakistan must understand the role of Pakistan in the global power structure.  They must overcome mutual rivalries and get united to fight the enemies of Islam.  They must remember that any weakness in Asia will promote Western hegemony.[36] 

 

For Wahid Bakhsh, this ultimately is Pakistan’s true calling:  to assume the vanguard of a Divinely sanctioned global Islamic renaissance and resurgence.[37]  In his reified (and unwaveringly optimistic) portrait of Islamic sacred history, nothing less will do if Pakistan is to live up to its name (“The Land of the Pure”) and rightful legacy (the heir to the “first Pakistan”—the Prophet’s Medina).

            In The Magnificent Power Potential of Pakistan, as elsewhere in the vast Chishti Sabiri literary corpus, Shaykh Wahid Bakhsh  Rabbani valorizes Chishti Sabiri identity as a defense against the tradition’s critics and an antidote for what he perceived as widespread societal malaise.  Like his Islamist counterparts, Wahid Bakhsh recognizes and resists the parameters of modernity—what Bassam Tibi has called the simultaneous development of “structural globalization” and “cultural fragmentation.”[38]  While the Shaykh embraces the instruments of modernity—science, technology, mass media—he rejects its pervasive values, its ideology; to borrow a phrase from Bruce Lawrence, his worldview is “modern but not modernist.”[39]  In the twilight of the Cold War, Wahid Bakhsh views the world through polarized, essentialized lenses, bifurcating the globe into two predominant civilizational fracture zones:  a mechanized, secularized, materialistic, Godless “West” and a traditional, communal, spiritualized Muslim “East.”  Looking back to a reified Golden Age, he calls for a return to the fundamental values and foundational institutions of the earliest Islamic community.  In effect, Wahid Bakhsh champions a revitalization of orthodoxy—and here an ‘orthodoxy’ with Sufism as its foundation—as a bulwark against the profound identity crisis that plagues contemporary Muslims dominated culturally, economically and politically by an aggressive, expansionist West.  In his mind, it is the destiny of the Muslims of Pakistan to lead this global resurgence, reviving and then modernizing the Islamic traditions of military, cultural and political independence, vitality and strength in order to stake their rightful claim in the emerging new world order.  For Wahid Bakhsh Rabbani—echoing the ideology of his spiritual predecessors, Muhammad Dhawqi Shah and Shahidullah Faridi—the resolution to Islam’s conflict with modernity is to be found in a reconstructed Pakistani cultural and national identity that is simultaneously Muslim, modern and mystic. 



[1] For a broad discussion of the contemporary debates over Islamic authority and authenticity, see Eickelman and Piscatori (especially Chapter One) and Lee.  On the history of the polemical debates surrounding Sufi thought and practice, see DeJong and Radtke, Ernst (1997), and Sirriyeh.

[2] The studies of South Asian Sufism vary widely in focus and methodology, scope and scale.  For an exploration of the history and ritual practices centered on Sufi shrines, see Currie and Eaton, as well as the edited volumes by Troll and Werbner.  For studies of the construction and appropriation of Sufism in colonial politics, see especially Ansari and Gilmartin.  Studies of Sufism’s role in the Islamic ideology of the Pakistani state are found in Ernst (1997), Ewing (1997) and Nasr.  For an analysis of South Asian Sufism as a spiritual discipline, see Buehler, Ernst and Lawrence, Liebeskind, Pinto and Schimmel.

[3] Mitchell, “Introduction.”  In this context, see also Appadurai, Asad (1986, 1999) and Van der Veer.

[3] For the history of the Chishti Sabiri silsila see Ernst and Lawrence, Nizami and Rizvi

 

[5] A detailed history of the Deoband madrasa is found in the monograph by Metcalf (1982).  See also Malik.  For insights into the role of the Deoband madrasa in the rise of the Taliban, see the recent article by Dugger.

[6] Shahidullah Faridi, born John Gilbert Lennard in London in 1915, was the son of one of the largest paper manufacturers in Great Britain.  After reading al-Hujwiri’s Kashf al-Mahjub, he converted to Islam in 1936 at the hands of a Bengali imam in an East End mosque.  His elder brother, Faruq Ahmed (born John William Lennard in1913 ) died in Lahore in 1945 and is buried in the compound of al-Hujwiri ‘s shrine (Data Ganj Bakhsh).  This biographical information comes from a series of interviews in Karachi, September 1-2, 2001.

[7] While Metcalf (1982) discusses the contributions of these key figures, she glosses the Chishti Sabiri affiliations and identity of the founders of the Deoband madrasa.  For Dhawqi Shah, however, these connections were vital, and throughout Tarbiat al-Ushaq he constantly evokes the figures of both Hajji Imdadullah and Rashid Ahmed Gangohi, claiming to have met the former during Hajj as a young boy and to have received the khilafat from the latter through a series of dreams.  See Tarbiat al-Ushaq, 480, 494.

[8] This text contains a series of letters between Dhawqi Shah and Jinnah written between 1937 and 1947.

[9] Tarbiyat al-‘Ushshaq, 76-77.  For a more detailed explication of this teleological interpretation of sacred history which champions a vital role of Chishti Sabiri saints in the development of Indo-Muslim religious and political culture, see also Wahid Bakhsh Rabbani’s introductory chapter in Maqam-e Ganj Shakkar, 24-27.  For a detailed analysis of the Chishti malfuzat genre, see Ernst (1992) and Lawrence (1978).

 

[10] Maqam-e Ganj Shakkar, 26

[11] For a detailed examination in the evolving role of Islamic ideology in the construction of Pakistani national identity and ideology, see Jawed and Nasr.

[12] This letter was originally circulated among Chishti Sabiri disciples, and has since been printed in a pamphlet entitled, “Security of Muslims”.  The text, however, has never been printed for public distribution.

[13] A large collection of Wahid Bakhsh’s personal letters to and from murids is preserved in the small library housed at his growing tomb complex in Allahabad, a small town in the southern Punjab. 

[14] Written in 1986, and first published in Urdu, this book was re-published in 2000 in an English translation with commentary compiled by a disciple of Wahid Bakhsh’s, Brigadier Muhammad Asghar.  Interestingly, there are plans to incorporate this text into the syllabus of Pakistani military academies.

14Immense Power Potential, 479-80.  Much of the language and many of the arguments posited by Wahid Bakhsh in this book echo the polemical writings of earlier Islamist ideologues like Jamal al-Din al-Afghani (d. 1897)—though here with a distinctly Sufi gloss.  See Esposito and Keddie.

[16]Immense Power Potential, 475.

[17] Chatterjee, 49.  On the construction of national identities via inscription and mass media, see Anderson.

[18] Immense Power Potential, 501.  See also 528.  

[19] ibid., 527.

[20] ibid., 24.

 

[21] ibid., 3-4.

[22] ibid., 51.   This rhetorical strategy—evoking the Qur’an in defense of a jihad for ‘truth, justice and human rights’--offers a clear example of Wahid Bakhsh’s eclectic (and thoroughly modern) ideology and idioms.

[23] ibid., 5-76. 

[24] ibid., 36.  See also 44, 232.

[25] ibid., 15.

[26] ibid., 14; 530. 

[27]ibid., 383. 

[28] ibid., 431.

[29] ibid., 449.

30ibid., 451, 467.

 

[31] ibid., 462

[32] ibid., 566-63.

[33] ibid., 437-41.  

[34] ibid., 199.

 

[35] ibid., 428-29.

[36] ibid., 248-49.

37 ibid., 496.   

 

[38] Tibi, 5-6.

39 Lawrence (1989), 17In Lawrence’s assessment, Islamists appropriate the instruments of modernity (internet, mass media) while rejecting its ideology (in particular, the processes of secularization).

 

 

(sufism in indonesia (part4


DEMAK and CIREBON
The Sufi Sultanates

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The Fall of Majapahit Kingdom

After the war with Blambangan and Giri, Majapahit's army became very weak and the moral of the soldiers was at its lowest. This situation was taken by another province, Daha, as a good opportunity to revolt. So in 1478 the king of Daha, Dyah Ranawijaya Girindrawardhana, revolted and led his army to the capital of Majapahit. Another war was broken, and this time Majapahit's army was not ready and they were easily defeated by the rebels. The mighty kingdom of Majapahit who once ruled almost all of Southeast Asia for centuries had finally came to its end. This event was recorded in the Javanese history as "Sirna Ilang Kertaning Bumi" which is a cendrasengkala (text or picture which symbolizes an important date) pointing to the year 1400 Saka or 1478 AD. Bhre Kertabumi, king of Majapahit, and some of his followers managed to escape the war and fled to Demak to seek protection. Finally Bhre Kertabumi embraced Islam and later died in Demak. His grave can still be found near Demak mosque under the name Prabu Darmakusuma. This name was taken from a king in the Hindu epic Bharatyudha, who was forced to leave his kingdom and had to hid in a jungle, a fate which Bhre Kertabumi had to face.

The fall of Majapahit opened an opportunity for Walisongo to build and independent state. Soon afterward Walisongo established the first Islamic kingdom in Java, the Demak Sultanate, with Raden Fatah as its first Sultan in 1478 AD. Many orientalists and manuscripts described that it was Demak Sultanate who destroyed Majapahit. This story is not true and might be a product of those who didn't like Islam and Walisongo. Demak Sultanate were not formed yet at that time, and Walisongo council also had good relationship with Majapahit. Many previous officer in Majapahit were still loyal to Raden Fatah, who was son of previous king of Majapahit, Sri Kertawijaya. Raden Fatah was also Bhre Kertabumi's adopted son. Sunan Ampel was still alive at that time and he always opposed a rebellion against Majapahit who had always been tolerant and protected Islam. If Walisongo intended to destroy Majapahit, why must Sunan Ampel prevented Sunan Giri from attacking its capital? Demak did not attack Majapahit until 40 years after that, but it was not the same old Majapahit because the new king, Girindrawardhana was ruler of Daha who had defeated Majapahit.

Sunan Ampel, leader of Walisongo, died in 1403 Saka (1481 AD) and was buried beside his mosque in Ampel. Sunan Bonang, Sunan Ampel's son, was appointed by the Walisongo council to become their new leader, and the new formation of Walisongo became:

  1. Sunan Bonang led the council of Walisongo.
  2. Sunan Giri in Giri (Gresik).
  3. Sunan Drajad in Tuban.
  4. Sunan Ngudung in Matahun.
  5. Raden Hamzah (Sunan Lamongan) in Lamongan.
  6. Raden Fatah in Demak.
  7. Sunan Gunung Jati in Cirebon.
  8. Syekh Siti Jenar in Lemah Abang, Pengging.
  9. Raden Sahid, disciple of Sunan Bonang, was the new member of the council. He was later titled Sunan Kalijaga.

The Demak Sultanate was more like a theocracy than a monarchy. The Walisongo council acted both as advisor and superior to the Sultan. The first Sultan, Raden Fatah, was a member of the council itself. The council however didn't supervise the worldly affairs and detailed management of the Sultanate, they only gave concepts and policies to be performed by the Sultan. Also in 1478 AD, the Walisongo council established the second Sultanate at Cirebon in West Java, with Syarif Hidayatullah as its first Sultan. Like the Sultan of Demak, Syarif Hidayatullah was also member of Walisongo. Syarif Hidayatullah was titled Sunan Gunung Jati. These new Sultanates soon found many old Hindu kingdoms in the island who threatened them: Pajajaran kingdom in West Java, Pengging kingdom in Central Java, and the Daha kingdom who replaced Majapahit in East Java.


Threats to The Sufi Sultanates

Months after the birth of the Cirebon Sultanate, Pajajaran kingdom sent an army to Cirebon. King of Pajajaran, Prabu Siliwangi, was grandfather of Sunan Gunung Jati, the Sultan of Cirebon, so he didn't send the army to destroy the Sultanate but only to ask his grandson to remain under his kingdom. The army itself was very small, only 60 soldiers strong and was led by Temenggung Jagabaya. Sunan Gunung Jati refused his grandfather's request and with his persuassion the army defected to his side. To prevent further threat from Pajajaran and to strengthen their position, the Cirebon Sultanate expanded their influence to other provinces within the Pajajaran kingdom. Sunan Gunung Jati also expanded Muara Jati seaport to increase trade and strengthen the economy. Trade relations were made as far as China, and soon many Chinese merchants moved to Cirebon and build communities. Trade relation with China was then followed by political relation with the Ming Dynasty in China. Sunan Gunung Jati even married a princess from China, Ong Tien, who was titled Nyi Ratu Rara Sumanding. In just a few years Cirebon had become a powerful kingdom in West Java which enabled Sunan Gunung Jati to persuade other provinces to join the new Sultanate and embraced Islam. These provinces are: Surantaka, Japura, Wanagiri, Galuh, Talaga, and Singaparna. Pajajaran became worried with this but Prabu Siliwangi still didn't want to attack his own grandson.

In 1511, a blow to the Moslem power in Southeast Asia came when Portuguese fleet attacked and conquered Malacca in the Malay Peninsula. The Portuguese were Catholics and had waged a holy war against Islam in Europe, Africa, Middle East, and now in Southeast Asia. Malacca was the most important Islamic seaport in this region, and since its fall to Portuguese army, the trade route and the spread of Islam was disturbed. In the following year the Portuguese also attacked the Moslem kingdoms in Sumatra but failed to conquer them. Then the Portuguese planned to attack the Moslem Sultanates in Java by making relations with Pajajaran kingdom in West Java and Majapahit kingdom in East Java. Portuguese envoy to Pajajaran was welcomed by the king and they were allowed to build a garisson in Sunda Kelapa, a small port just 200 miles from Cirebon. Demak and Cirebon were aware of this new threat and planned a strategy to counter the Portuguese, which already started to make alliance with Prabu Udara, successor of Girindrawardhana.

In 1513 Supit Urang Ranggaprana, ally of Prabu Udara, started an agression to Demak Sultanate. The incident escalated into a war between Demak and Daha, when Prabu Udara decided to help his ally. Prabu Udara was also helped by Prabu Adyadiningrat from Pengging and Adipati Klungkung from Bali. They are ruler of Hindu kingdoms who didn't like the growth of Islam in Java. They hoped to eliminate the Moslem power from the island by helping Prabu Udara in his war against Demak. Demak army was led by Sunan Ngudung and Ja'far Shadiq, his son. Demak was also helped by Arya Damar, ruler of Palembang in Central Sumatra. Almost five years had passed when in a big battle on the banks of Sedayu river, Prabu Adyadiningrat, king of Pengging, was finally killed by Sunan Ngudung's army but Sunan Ngudung himself was also killed by Adipati Terung, a general of the Majapahit's army. With Sunan Ngudung's death the Demak army retreated to reinforce their strength. Sunan Ngudung was titled "Pengulu Rahmatullah" to honor his heroism in the war to defend Islam. Sunan Ngudung's place in Walisongo council was then replaced by his own son, Ja'far Shadiq, who was titled Sunan Kudus. Ja'far Shadiq was also appointed to led Demak's army in a last expedition to attack Prabu Udara's palace in Trowulan, Majapahit's previous capital. Prabu Udara was killed in the battle, and Adipati Terung finally surendered and was brought to Demak. Eventhough he had killed a member of Walisongo, he was pardonned by the other member of the council, a common Sufi act. The sincerity of Walisongo touched Adipati Terung, and he voluntarily embraced Islam. Prabu Udara's followers who didn't want to surrender to Demak, escaped to hide in remote places such as Mount Bromo and Mount Lawu. Many other escaped to Bali with Klungkung's army, including many Hindu artisans from the palace. This explains why so many people in Bali had talents in art until now. With the defeat of Prabu Udara, Walisongo can focused their attention to face the Pajajaran Kingdom and the Portuguese.

In 1518, Raden Fatah died and was buried near Demak Mosque. Raden Fatah's son, Adipati Unus, became the second Sultan of Demak and was titled Pangeran Sabrang Lor. The death of Raden Fatah, Sunan Ngudung, and Sunan Giri who died a few years before that, forced the council of Walisongo to appoint new Sufi masters to fill their places. The new formation of Walisongo became:

  1. Sunan Bonang led the council of Walisongo.
  2. Sunan Drajad in Tuban.
  3. Sunan Gunung Jati in Cirebon.
  4. Sunan Delem or Sunan Giri II, successor of Sunan Giri (Raden Paku), in Giri (Gresik).
  5. Raden Hamzah (Sunan Lamongan) in Lamongan.
  6. Sunan Kalijaga in Bintara, Demak.
  7. Syekh Siti Jenar in Lemah Abang, Pengging.
  8. Ja'far Shadiq, son of Sunan Ngudung. He preached in Kudus and was titled Sunan Kudus.
  9. Raden Umar Said, son of Sunan Kalijaga. His base was on Mount Muria so he was titled Sunan Muria.


War Against Portuguese

In 1521, a combined fleet of Demak and Cirebon departed to attack the Portuguese in Malacca. The Moslem army was led by Adipati Unus, Sultan of Demak. The war was bloody and both side suffered heavy losses, but the Moslem army could not withstand Portuguese firepower. Adipati Unus was killed in the war and the fleet had to retreate from Malacca and went back to Java. Walisongo then appointed Pangeran Trenggono to become the third Sultan of Demak. He was then titled Sultan Ahmad Abdul Arifin or Sultan Trenggono. The Portuguese base in Malacca was too strong for Demak to defeat, so Walisongo changed their target to the Portuguese base in Sunda Kelapa, which was not very strong yet. But this base was also protected by Pajajaran kingdom, who had made an alliance with the Portuguese. But the king of Pajajaran wasn't aware that not every province in Pajajaran agreed with his alliance with Portuguese. Sunan Gunung Jati quickly made contact with these local rulers and asked them to support his plan to drive away the foreigners. He also sent his son, Maulana Hassanuddin, to preach at Banten, a province in the westernmost part of Java. The ruler of Banten finally accepted Islam and agreed to support the Walisongo plan to attack Sunda Kelapa.

Sultan Trenggono appointed Fatahillah to led the Moslem army to conquer Sunda Kelapa

(sufism in indonesia (part3

Walisongo
The Nine Sufi Saints of Java
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Introduction

Most Indonesians (as well as orientalists) only know Walisongo as the nine Sufi saints (Wali = Sufi saint, songo = nine) who spread Islam in Java. These Sufi masters were known as:

  1. Syekh Maulana Malik Ibrahim
  2. Sunan Ampel
  3. Sunan Bonang
  4. Sunan Giri
  5. Sunan Drajad
  6. Sunan Kalijaga
  7. Sunan Kudus
  8. Sunan Muria
  9. Sunan Gunung Jati

This classic formation of Walisongo is taught to school children in Indonesia, and also stated in many books and references. But Walisongo is actually a COUNCIL of Sufi masters which always consist of nine members. If one member died or moved abroad, he would be replaced with a new one, elected by the remaining members. So Sufi masters who became members of Walisongo were more than nine.

The council of Walisongo was first formed by Sunan Ampel (Raden Rahmat) around 1474. While Syekh Maulana Malik Ibrahim died in 1419, so he couldn't possibly be a member of the council. But Indonesian Moslems regard him as a member of Walisongo because he was a great Wali of his time and built the first pesantren (Islamic school) in Java. He was also Sunan Ampel's cousin.

In fact there were many other Sufi Masters from various countries who came to Java around that time. Some of them are:

  • Syekh Ibrahim As-Samarkandy, father of Sunan Ampel
  • Syekh Maulana Ishaq, brother-in-law of Syekh Ibrahim As-Samarkandy
  • Maulana Ahmad Jumadil Kubra
  • Maulana Muhammad Al-Maghrobi
  • Maulana Malik Isro'il
  • Maulana Muhammad Ali Akbar
  • Maulana Hassanuddin
  • Maulana Aliyuddin
  • Syekh Subakir

Sunan Ampel - Founder of Walisongo

Sunan Ampel Around 1445 AD Sunan Ampel was given authority over Ampel region by his uncle, Sri Kertawijaya, king of Majapahit. At that time Ampel region has about 30,000 inhabitants. Ampel was located next to the main port of the kingdom, Jenggala Manik, which made it a strategic place to spread Islam with aid from the Moslem merchants in Java. These merchants had already made smalll communities along the northern coast of Java since the 11th century. Sunan Ampel must had great influence over them and received donations to finance the Islamic da'wah (propagation of the faith). Slowly but sure, the mission gained more and more new converts from the nobles, local people and foreign merchants. The donations also financed Sunan Ampel's pesantren, where Moslem children studied Islam to become future missionaries for the archipelago. In a short time, Ampel grew to be a centre for studying Islam in the island and hosted religious scholars from various countries. Sufism was the base of Sunan Ampel's teachings, which prevented confrontation among scholars from various mazhab (sects) in Islam, and attracted new converts by its non-agressiveness.

Sunan Ampel's aunt, Darawati, died in 1448. But before that, she had succeeded in persuading her husband, Sri Kertawijaya, to embrace Islam. The conversion of the king had ignited discontent among the Hindu nobles and priests who later revolted against him. The king was finally murdered in 1451, and the throne was taken by Sri Rajasawardhana. The coup gave a threat to further preaching of Islam, which was protected under the rule of Sri Kertawijaya. Aware of this danger, Sunan Ampel planned to send missionaries to all provinces of Majapahit in Java. The missionaries' goal was to build Islamic centres in all provinces to strengthen the da'wah over the island and also to anticipate the possiblity of the destruction of Islamic community in Ampel by Majapahit's army. The group of the missionaries was called Bayangkare Ishlah by Sunan Ampel.

Map of Java in 15th century

Bayangkare Ishlah - Embryo of Walisongo

The Majapahit kingdom in the mid of 15th century was divided into nine provinces: Trowulan (the capital), Daha, Blambangan, Matahun, Tumapel, Kahuripan, Lasem, Wengker, and Pajang. Sunan Ampel appointed a missionary to every strategic regions in the provinces:

  • Sunan Ampel acted as the leader and managed the capital Trowulan, Jenggala Manik (near Ampel), Canggu, and Jedong.
  • Raden Ali Murtadho, brother of Sunan Ampel, was appointed to preach at the region of Gresik and Tuban. He was also called Raden Santri Ali in that area.
  • Abu Hurairah, cousin of Sunan Ampel preached at Majagung region and had the title Pangeran (Prince) Majagung. He was also called Raden Burereh by the local people.
  • Syekh Maulana Ishak, Sunan Ampel's uncle, went to preach at the province of Blambangan and had the title Syekh Waliyul Islam. He was also called Syekh Wali Lanang.
  • Maulana Abdullah, Sunan Ampel's uncle, preached at Pajang and had the title Syekh Suta Maharaja.
  • Kyai Banh Tong was assigned to preach at Lasem province and was called Syekh Bentong by local people. His daughter was one of king Majapahit's many wives.
  • Khalif Husayn, Sunan Ampel's cousin, preached at Madura, an island northeast of Java.
  • Usman Haji, son of Khalif Husayn, preached at Ngudung in Matahun province and had the title Pangeran Ngudung.

These eight missionaries were called Bayangkare Ishlah by Sunan Ampel. They were all Sufi masters and made Sufism their basic concept in spreading Islam. Their charisma and intellect helped won sympathy from local rulers and many were married with girls from noble families. Sunan Ampel married Nyi Ageng Manila (or Dewi Condrowati), daughter of a high ranking officer in Majapahit kingdom. Syekh Maulana Ishak married daughter of Prabu Menak Sembuyu (Sadmuddha), king of Blambangan. Kalifah Husayn and Ali Murtadho married daughters of Arya Baribin, ruler of Madura. Maulana Abdullah married Endang Senjanila from Tirang. By having family ties with the local ruler they could preach Islam effectively.

The second wave of missionaries was sent a few years later by Sunan Ampel to reinforce the first one:

  • Raden Hasan or Raden Fatah, son of Sri Kertawijaya with his Chinese wife, preached at Glagah Wangi, Bintara, in the Lasem province to replace his grandfather, Syekh Bentong. He had the title Pangeran Bintara.
  • Raden Husen, half-brother of Raden Hasan, was appointed to preach at Trowulan, the capital of Majapahit.
  • Raden Makdum Ibrahim, son of Sunan Ampel, was sent to Daha, and had the title Pangeran Anyakrawati. He was later known as Sunan Bonang.
  • Raden Hamzah, son of Sunan Ampel, was assigned to preach at Tumapel and had the title Pangeran Tumapel. He was also known as Syekh Ambyah or Syekh Kambyah.
  • Raden Mahmud, son of Sunan Ampel, also known as Syekh Sahmut, preached at Sepanjang, Kahuripan, and had the title Pangeran Sepanjang.

Sunan Ampel and his coleagues used persuasive approach to attract the Javanese people to Islam. They exploited Hindu myths and beliefs to spread Islamic teachings. They made new stories related to the myths and include Islamic beliefs in them. The stories gradually became popular among the Hindu people and made them familiar with Islam.

The Bhayangkare Ishlah also tried to avoid conflict with local rulers by making good relationship with them. But their movement was not without trouble and difficulties. Syekh Maulana Ishak was forced to leave Blambangan because of false accusation from one of the king's officer. His pregnant wive was left behind. Later she bore a son, Raden Ainul Yaqin or Raden Paku, who was taken by Sunan Ampel as his disciple. Syekh Maulana Ishak, according to "Babad Tanah Jawi", after leaving Blambangan went back to Pasai kingdom in Sumatra. But according to "Serat Kandaning Ringgit Purwa", he went to Semarang and preached Islam to Batara Katong from Wengker.

In other areas they were still rejected by the Hindu rulers like Makdum Ibrahim who had troubles with nobles of Daha when he tried to build a mosque there.
In Pajang, Syekh Suta Maharaja's base was attacked by the army of Prabu Andayaningrat from Pengging, who didn't like the growth of Islam in that area. Syekh Suta Maharaja escaped to Demak and died there. Later, the Pengging army was finally defeated by Raden Hasan.

These confrontation forced Sunan Ampel to reconstruct his strategy in spreading Islam in Java. He needed to form a group of charismatic Islamic preacher backed by a strong political power which led to the birth of Walisongo, a council which approach of Sufism finally succeeded in converting almost all of Java to Islam.

Birth of Walisongo

The reason of Sunan Ampel's decission to form a council of Islamic missionaries was to build a flexible type of Islamic missionary. The council can be viewed as religious as well as a political movement, because Sunan Ampel also started to build military power in Demak, Giri (Gresik) and Tuban. Some previous Sufi masters were not included in the council for various reasons. Syekh Suta Maharaja had died after the attack from Pengging kingdom. Raden Husen has been assigned as Tandha (a government position in Majapahit kingdom) in Terung. While Ali Murtadho, brother of Sunan Ampel, was assigned to maintain Moslem military unit in Gresik and Tuban with Raden Burereh.

Finally in 1474, Sunan Ampel formed the first council of Walisongo which consisted of:

  1. Raden Rahmat (Sunan Ampel) led the council and stayed in Ampel.
  2. Raden Hasan was placed in Bintara, Demak with the title Pangeran Bintara. Later he was known as Raden Fatah or Raden Patah, the first king of Demak Sultanate.
  3. Raden Makdum Ibrahim, first son of Sunan Ampel, resided in Daha with the title Pangeran Anyakrawati. He was later known as Sunan Bonang.
  4. Raden Qosim or Raden Alim, second son of Sunan Ampel, replaced Raden Burereh in Majagung, and got the title Pangeran Majagung. He was later known as Sunan Drajad.
  5. Usman Haji still preached at Ngudung, Matahun,and had the title Pangeran Ngudung.
  6. Raden Ainul Yaqin or Raden Paku, son of Maulana Ishak, went to Giri (near Gresik) and had the title Pangeran Giri. Later he was known as Sunan Giri.
  7. Syekh Abdul Jalil replaced Syekh Suta Maharaja in Lemah Abang, Pajang, and had the title Syekh Lemah Abang. He was later known as Syekh Siti Jenar.
  8. Raden Hamzah was placed in Singosari, Tumapel. He had the title Pangeran(Prince) Tumapel.
  9. Raden Mahmud built a base in Drajad, near Tuban.

At that time the council's center was still at Ampel, which was close to Majapahit's capital, Trowulan. Sunan Ampel thought that it was necessary to move the center to a new place far from Trowulan so that they could have more freedom to manage their movement. Walisongo had two strong bases at that time, Demak and Giri, which had many followers and strong military units. Demak was managed by Raden Fatah (Raden Hasan), while Giri was managed by Raden Ainul Yaqin (Raden Paku). These bases were the alternatives of the council's new center, but Giri was still close to Trowulan, so the best option was to move the center to Demak. Soon afterward the council started to construct a large mosque at Demak which would be used not only as a center for the council to spread Islam but also as a center for Islamic and Sufism studies. The Demak Mosque was completed around 1477 AD. Then to prevent rivalry among Raden Fatah and Raden Paku, Sunan Ampel wisely adopt them as his son-in-laws. Raden Fatah was married to Dewi Murthosiyah, while Raden Paku was married to Dewi Murthosimah. Both are Sunan Ampel's daughters from his marriage with his second wive, Nyai Karimah.

Demak Mosque The two bases of Walisongo (Demak and Giri) which grew stronger and stronger everyday were always under the watchful eyes of the Majapahit kingdom. The new ruler of Majapahit, Bhre Kertabumi, the third successor of Sri Rajasawardhana, was suspicious of the leader of these two bases. It was because Raden Fatah was son of Sri Kertawijaya, previous king of Majapahit who was toppled and replaced by Sri Rajasawardhana. While Raden Paku's mother was the granddaughter of Bhre Wirabumi of Blambangan, an old enemy of Majapahit whom they defeated long before that.
However, their position in the Walisongo council gave them a temporary protection, because Sunan Ampel was still respected by the Majapahit ruler, and there were many high ranking officer of Majapahit still loyal to Sri Kertawijaya and to his son, Raden Fatah.

Revolt in Majapahit

Majapahit kingdom was at its decline at that time. Many vassal states and provinces had tried to break free from them. Two of them was the kingdom of Daha and the kingdom of Blambangan in the easternmost part of Java. Blambangan was less powerful than Daha, so Majapahit reacted by sending a large army to this region which they considered easier to deal with. King of Blambangan, Prabu Menak Sembuyu (Sadmuddha) which was also called in local folklore as Prabu Menak Jingga, led his army to the battle against Majapahit. Prabu Menak Sembuyu was killed in the war, but many of his followers fled to Giri and seek protection from Sunan Giri, who was the grandson of their king.

The army of Majapahit then planned a second attack, but this time to Giri, to eliminate the remnants of the Blambangan army who fled there. Before they could reach Giri, Sunan Giri defeated them in a war by using mystical power as was described in "Babad Tanah Jawi" manuscript. The Majapahit army retreated to Trowulan, chased by Sunan Giri's followers. The table was turned, this time it was Majapahit which was under siege. Before the war became more violent, Sunan Ampel ordered Sunan Giri to hold his army and made a truce with Majapahit. Sunan Ampel didn't want Majapahit to be destroyed because they had been very tolerant with the growth of Islam in Java. Furthermore, there were many nobles and officers in Majapahit who already embraced Islam.

In the truce, Giri was given autonomy under the kingdom of Majapahit and so was Demak. Bhre Kertabumi, king of Majapahit, also adopted Raden Hasan as his son, so that he wouldn't avenge his father's death. The position of Walisongo became stronger and Majapahit was no longer a threat to the spread of Islam.

The political situation was unpredictable at that time since there were still rebellions against Majapahit in many area which could endanger further spread of Islam. This condition forced Sunan Ampel to renew his strategy in managing the Walisongo. Sunan Ampel had also made contact with Syarif Hidayatullah, a Sufi Master from Cirebon, an important seaport of Pajajaran kingdom, rival of Majapahit in West Java. Syarif Hidayatullah was an important person because he was the nephew of Pangeran Cakrabuana, ruler of Cirebon. He was also grandson of Prabu Silingawi, king of Pajajaran, so the Hindu generals of Pajajaran didn't dare to disturb the Moslem community in Cirebon. Syarif Hidayatullah was later known as
Sunan Gunung Jati. To strengthen the Moslem power in Java, Sunan Ampel invited Syarif Hidayatullah to join the council of Walisongo, and the formation became like this:

  • Sunan Ampel still led the council and managed Ampel, Canggu, and Jedong.
  • Raden Makdum Ibrahim was pulled from Daha and was assigned to manage Bonang, near Tuban. Raden Makdum Ibrahim then was titled Sunan Bonang.
  • Raden Qosim or Raden Alim was pulled from Majagung and was assigned to managae Drajad, also near Tuban, to replace Raden Mahmud. His position in Majagung was replaced by Syekh Sulayman. Raden Qosim was titled Sunan Drajad.
  • Raden Ainul Yaqin or Raden Paku managed Giri. He was titled Sunan Giri.
  • Raden Fatah managed Demak area. He was titled Sunan Demak.
  • Syarif Hidayatullah managed Cirebon and regions in western Java. He was titled Sunan Gunung Jati.
  • Syekh Abdul Jalil managed Lemah Abang, Pajang. He was titled Syekh Lemah Abang or Syekh Siti Jenar.
  • Usman Haji still preached at Ngudung, Matahun, and had the title Pangeran Ngudung and also Sunan Ngudung.
  • Raden Hamzah was pulled from Tumapel and was assigned to preach in Lamongan. Raden Hamzah was titled Prince Lamongan and also Sunan Lamongan.

Sunan Bonang was helped by his disciple, Raden Sahid, in maintaining the Bonang region. Raden Sahid was the son of ruler of Tuban and later he got the title Sunan Kalijaga. Usman Haji was also helped by his son, Ja'far Shadiq, which was later titled Sunan Kudus. But both of them hasn't been included in the Walisongo council yet.

The new formation put all member of Walisongo at every important seaports in Java. The strategic locations, with the help from Moslem merchants, enabled them to gain more control to the economic system of the island and strengthened the position of Walisongo and the Moslem communities. The economic control in the northern seaports and the strong military power in Demak and Giri, were needed to anticipate the political heat in Majapahit. For centuries, the Javanese Moslems were always protected under the rule of Majapahit, which was tolerant to them, while most of the rebels didn't like Islam. Should anything happened to Majapahit, Walisongo were already prepared to build an independent state, the first Islamic kingdom in Java to protect the growth of the new religion.

(Sufism  in Indonesia   (part 2


History

Conversion of Java
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In 1436, Prameswara, the ruler of Malacca in the Malayan Peninsula, embraced Islam and was entitled Sultan Megat Iskandar Syah. Later he freed his sultanate from China which was its patron since 1402. Gradually, Malacca start to take control on the trade route in the archipelago. By 1500, Malacca had become the greatest emporium in Southeast Asia, and all the trading ports of the western archipelago were centralized on Malacca. The most important of these were the ports on northern coast of Java, then still a Hindu island.

Map of INDONESIA in the 15th century

The last great Hindu kingdom of Java, Majapahit which capital is in Trowulan, had almost collapsed when Malacca began its supremacy on the region. Known to have subdued almost all of Southeast Asia kingdoms, the great empire waned after the death of its greatest ruler, Hayam Wuruk, in 1389. A civil war erupted from 1402 to 1406 helped further destruction of the kingdom. Though reunited in 1429, Majapahit had lost its control on many trading ports in the archipelago to the emerging Malaccan sultanate. Taking advantage of the situation, the rulers of the Javanese coastal cities were seeking independence from the inland Hindu kingdoms of Majapahit and Pajajaran. Slowly but sure, intermarriage between Moslem traders and local nobles brought tight relationship with Malacca. Thus, opened the gates of Java to Islam. 
Ibn Batutta, the famous traveler from Moroco, also mentioned a Sufi scholar from Indonesia, Syeikh Abu Mas'ud Abdullah bin Mas'ud Al-Jawi, whom he met at Aden, Yemen around 1328. It's a proof that Islam and Sufism had established in the island of Java at that time, probably among the merchants and nobles.

It's sad to know that many orientalists claim that the economic and worldly benefit which the rulers had by embracing Islam is the cause of their conversion to the new religion. This opinion should not be accepted and it's a reflection of the orientalists' bad prejudice to Islam. Actually it was Sufism who helped getting Islam into the hearts of the first converts of Indonesian Moslems. The Sufism teachings of love and asceticism had penetrated the mystic-minded royal courts, while their teaching of equality of all human before Allah had absorbed the commoners who were placed low in the caste-system of the Hindu kingdoms.

Further introduction of Sufism through art helped boost the spreading of Islam among the Javanese. This is due to the Javanese people's high appreciation toward art. The Sufi saints of Java at that time, known as The Nine Wali (Walisanga or Walisongo), were very much aware of it and exploit it for the benefit of Islam. These Sufi saints (Wali) creatively manipulated the already popular Hindu epic of Ramayana and Mahabharata to teach Islam through the shadow-puppet play (wayang kulit) and gamelan (set of metal instruments) music. They also invented songs, poems, sport games, festivals, and even child's play and traditional cakes (!) to propagate Islam and Sufism. These tactics proved to be very effective in making Islam the major religion among the Javanese.

Sufism  in Indonesia   (part1

History
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Introduction 
Sufism first came to Indonesia along with the spread of Islam brought to the region by Moslem traders. There is still controversy among scholars about who first brought Islam to Indonesia. Some point to the Moslem traders from Persia and Gujarat, others offer evidences of Arab (either from Egypt, Hejaz, or Hadramaut) influences on early Indonesian Moslems. But everyone agrees that Islam entered Indonesia peacefuly without holy wars or rebellions. Sufism also played a big role in spreading Islam among common Indonesians who were and still very fond of mysticism. 

Map of Indian Ocean
Map of Trade Routes and
Spread of Islam in The Indian Ocean


File Size - 89KB

Moslem traders had visited the Indonesian archipelago for centuries, some of them had settled there or even might had converted some Indonesians. Evidence of their pressence can be found at tombstones of Moslem scholars at Baros, North Sumatra, bearing the date of 44-48 Hijri or 665-669 AD. They are Syaikh Rukunuddin, Syaikh Makhmud, Tuanku Batu Badan, and Tuanku Ambar. A Chinese document also reported existence of Arab communitiess in Kalingga kingdom in Java in the 7th century. These Arabs might also have introduced Islam to the local people. 
There is also a tombstone of a Moslem woman, Fatimah binti Maimun, in Gresik, East Java, bears the date of 461 Hijri or 1082 AD. It's possible that small Moslem communities had already formed at that time in the main ports of Java and Sumatra. The Hindu and Buddhist rulers of that era might have been tolerant to them and allowed them to preach Islam among their subjects. 

But it was not until the 13th century when the rulers of Samudra Pasai and Perlak at northern Sumatra started to embrace Islam and made the first Islamic kingdoms in Indonesia. The most obvious evidence of this is the tombstone of the first Islamic ruler of Samudra, Sultan Malik Al-Saleh, which bears the date 1297. 
These kingdoms were reported by Marco Polo who visitted Perlak in 1292, and also by Ibn Batutta, the famous Moroccan traveller, who on his way to China in 1341 stopped at Samudra and became a royal guest to the Moslem ruler there, Malik Al-Zahir.
This Sultan might had practiced Sufism because Ibn Batutta described him as 'a humble hearted man who walks on foot to the Friday prayer'. Having their position on the gate of Malacca strait, which was a busy trade route, the kingdoms had no difficulties in further introduction of Islam and Sufism to the region and beyond to Java and East Indonesia. 

Map of Spread of Islam in Indonesian Archipelago
Map of Spread of Islam in Indonesian Archipelago

Sufi Orders of Tamil Nadu

 

by Khaja Khan (1903)

The chief seat in [Madras] Presidency where the several bands of faqîrs are organised is Penukondah, a Qasba town in the Anantapur District. Each year on the first day of Jamâdi-ul-Âkhar, the faqîrs of all orders Banava, Rafâ‘î, Madârî, Malang, and Shâh Jalâl congregate at this place and select their office-bearers to go on a two-year pilgrimage to the tombs of the saints in the Presidency. The Banava Order was founded by Ghulâm ‘Alî Shâh of Delhi, and is traced to to the Saint ‘Abdul Qâdir Jîlânî. The Rafâ‘î Order was founded by Saiyid Ahmad Kabîr Rafâ‘î (ob. 756 A.H.) and is traced to Khwâja Junayd of Baghdâd. The Madârî Order was founded by Shâh Badruddin Qutub-ul-Madâr. He seems to have come from Syria and to have travelled over a large part of North India and made thousands of converts to Islam, (ob. 840 A.H.). His shrine is in Makanpur in Oudh. His order is traced to Tayfûr of Syria-said to have been a disciple of Jesus Christ. The Jalâlî Order was founded by Saiyid Jalâl Bokhârî (ob. 699 A.H.). They wear a sash and bear a horn of deer, and the seal of Nubuwat on their shoulders. The selection of the chief of each of these orders was so long in the hands of the faqîrs themselves. Now it appears that the Sajjâda of Penukondah has this selection taken into his own hands. The latter is said to be descended from a brother of the local saint Bâbâ Fakhruddîn and has got nine villages attached to the tomb. Out of the proceeds of two of these, he has to celebrate the annual festival. The Sirguru is the ruler of each Order, and has dominion over all faqîrs of his Order in whatever part of the Presidency. The Sirguru of Banavas must be a bachelor, and must have some knowledge of Tasawwuf; but as often as not, he is a mere ignoramus. He has the power of drumming out or excommunicating a faqîr from his Order, for breach of discipline.

Next in rank to Sirguru is the Bhandari. He is the Prime Minister of the Order, collects and spends money in behalf of the band. He is the money-bag man and distributes the money-share of each faqîr to him. Then comes the Upkari. He looks after the cooking and the meals; the Kotwâl has to look after discipline and to accompany the Sirguru in his itinerations. The Naqîb has also to accompany and chant verses all along. Out of a collection of Rs. 100 (say), the Sirguru takes Rs. 5 and two shares; the Bhandari has no commission, but is entitled to 1½ shares, the Upkari, Kotwâl, and Naqîb each take 1¾ shares; and one share is allotted to each faqîr in rank and file. These bands go on their two-year round in the Southern Presidency starting from Penukonda. The Sirguru holds four chouks or darbârs, viz., at Penukonda, Matarwangal, Trichinopoly, and Nagore.

At Penukonda there is a tomb of Bâbâ Fakhruddîn. He is said to have been a king of Sîstân, a province of Persia, and a disciples of Nathar Auliyâ (Mazharuddîn), the saint of Trichinopoly. He is the saint of cotton-carders (Panjaris).

On the 11th Jamâdî-ul-Âkhar, the sandal ceremony is performed at Penukonda; on the 12th, the ‘urs; and on the 13th the ‘asas (staves) are taken round. From Penukonda, visiting small tombs en route and collecting their fixed mamools, the faqîrs go to Matarwangal, 22 miles from Kolar. Here is the tomb of Haydar Safdar, another disciple of Nathar Auliyâ of Trichinopoly. Some of the Orders fall off from this place, the Banava faqîrs, however, proceed further. At times some of the faqîrs of the remaining Orders select their own chiefs for the remaining journey. At Trichinopoly there are the tombs of Nathar Auliyâ and his two disciples Shumspurran and Shumsgoyan; Nathar Auliyâ is also said to have been a king who became a saint. From Trichinopoly they go to Nagore, where there is the tomb of Qâdir Walî. The last stage of the journey is the tomb of Buddû Shahîd, near Pallavaram. The faqîrs have their mamools in each place, e.g., at Dindigul (at the tomb of Saidânî Bî), the mamool is one dinner and Rs. 10. At the mosque of Tirumangalam, they get Rs. 5; at the Sivaganga mosque Rs. 30; at Tinnevelly, 5 days' meals and Rs. 150 and so on. A curious ceremony in connection with the four chouks mentioned above is that they make the Malang Sirguru sit four-square, and tie raw thread round his toes, so that he is not to go even for the calls of nature for five days at Penukonda and Matarwangal; and three days at Trichinopoly and Nagore; and then the faqîrs tread on fire in his presence. The practice of the visit from Penukonda to Trichinopoly appears to have arisen out of the custom of Bâbâ Fakhruddîn paying an annual visit to Nathar Auliyâ his Pîr, during his life-time.

The salâm amongst these bands is not the ordinary Mussalman salâm. Amongst Banavas, it is "Love of God." Answer "Love to all." Amongst Malang and Madârîs, it is "Haqq-Allâh Muhammad Madâr." Answer "Dum Peer Shâh Madâr." Amongst the Rafâ‘îs "Love of God." Answer-"Love of Muhammad, the Prophet." When an order is on the move, the Naqîb leads the band and calls out "Hush bar Dum," "Nazar bar Qadam" (i.e., wakefulness on breath and eye on foot). These two are the terms of the Naqshbandîyyah Order. "Wakefulness on the breath" is akin to the Hindu Pranayama. Each breath that goes up is said to voice forth, "Lâ ilâha" and the one that goes in "Illallâh," "No god, except God," i.e., in breathing out they negative all existences, and in breathing in, they acknowledge the only existence of God. "Eye on the foot," appears to be a fitting watchword in marching, and has for its objective the concentration of attention. Esoterically it is intended to put each man on his guard regarding the observance of the footsteps of the particular prophet, he may have chosen for his model.

[Note: Khaja Khan was a Madrasi author on Sufi topics. This article was taken from his essay "Sufi Orders in the Deccan", originally published in The Philosophy of Islam (1903), and reprinted in Studies in Tasawwuf (1923). At the time he wrote, the Madras Presidency (present-day Tamil Nadu) included areas that are now in Karnataka and Andhra Pradesh.] 


Map of South India showing the places along the itinerary named in the article. 
Nagore—a Tamil Muslim Sufi site
PK homepage
 

JAVANESE MYSTICAL MOVEMENTS

 

Introduction

North Indian shaman
North Indian shaman

There are numerous forms of mysticism. The majestic grandeur of nature evoked an intuitive awe in man and a feeling of unity. Some time in history members of the homo sapiens species began directing their attention inside themselves as they received indications of a magical and spiritual nature.
In early cultures groups formed around a person who seemed through some strange play of nature be possessed with extraordinary powers and insights. Some call them medicine man, or shamans.

In modern culture mysticism is seen as the practice of communion and adoration of man of his divine nature.
It takes all forms, though. On this page an introduction to Javanese mysticism, the origins of which little is known as its early adherents committed little to writing.


ANTHROPOLOGY AND JAVANESE MYSTICAL MOVEMENTS

During the last decades Javanese mysticism has become more and more of interest to anthropologists. They base their books, articles, doctoral theses, etc. partly on Dutch studies during their colonial past, partly on their own observations during field-work. Java is particularly fascinating because its culture bears traces of various religions.

'Kresna', wayang puppet
Wayang shadowplay puppet 
<I>Kresna</I>

The original religion of Java was animistic. Prevailing was the belief in powers, nature-spirits and souls of the deceased hidden in the unseen world. The selamatan is considered to be part of that folklore. This gathering is held at specific dates such as the third, seventh, fortieth, hundredth, and thousandth anniversary of the decease of a relative. The food eaten is meant to be a sacrifice for the soul of the dead person. After a thousand days the soul is supposed to have disintegrated or reincarnated. Prof.J.M.van der Kroef writes: "The homeostasis sought via the selamatan has an animistic background which is part of the Javanese cosmology: man is surrounded by spirits and deities, apparitions and mysterious supernatural forces, which, unless he takes the proper precautions, may disturb him or even plunge him into disaster."

Anthropologist Clifford Geertz divides the Javanese population in three main groups: the abangan, the priyayi and the santri. The Abangan (Agami Jawi) are nominal Muslim, but to a great extent they are guided by the ancient belief, the kejawen. Dr.S. de Jong: "Flora and fauna have like man a soul. The animal and vegetable soul is deeper sunk in material existence than the human soul. Therefore certain plants and animals may be harmful...The Godhead towers above in serene rest and offers no assistance. The abangan remain two possibilities: surrender -rela-, and worship -bekti. The primitive main concepts recur in 20th century mystical groups, may have never been absent."

In the 5th century Hinduism was introduced in Java and struck root. One thousand years later it was followed by Islam. The form of Islam that reached Java had already undergone Ishmaili Shi'ah influences. In Java it was again adapted to suit the existing Hindu and animistic elements. Sufi mysticism was embraced particularly, because it coincided with the existing way of thought. Sufi brotherhoods - tarekats - of the Sufi orders of Naqshabandiyya, Qadiriyya, and Shattariyya were formed and spread slowly.

Towards the middle of the 19th century opportunity arose for the Muslim population to have more contact with their fellow-believers. This led to a reform movement to rid Indonesian Islam of Hindu-Javanese elements. The Santri belong to this part of the population. They condemn such diversions as Wayang performances and selamatans. They reject the belief in the unity of man and God, in rasa(feeling) over akal(reason).


Eling, the deepest aspect of the inner life of the Javanese

Mysticism may be said to permeate Javanese life and consequently its vocabulary. Certain Javanese words are hard to understand for us in all their shades of meaning. One is "culture". Another is "jiwa," which may mean life, but also enthusiasm, spirit, inner self, thought, feeling, mentality, essence, and implication.
Eling (pronounced "ailing") is another one of these frequently used terms that defy translation. The word can only be understood by looking at its context. Javanese will understand it intuitively. It may mean "one of the jiwa's powers", "an ethical value", or "a level of depth in religious awareness".

Eling as one of the jiwa's powers

Basically eling means "remember." With reference to the powers of the jiwa the word covers everything ever experienced physically or spiritually. Next to the faculties of the jiwa of sight, hearing, speaking, and thinking, eling connects earlier experiences to what is being experienced now, making one aware that personal experience is an ongoing process. The I, who was in bad shape financially last year, is now making money. Memory underlies all personal identity. Not only that, it means being conscious of the consequences of our actions and our individual responsibility. Therefore, eling in its basic meaning is of great importance to the concept of self-awareness, considered of great importance in Javanese philosophy.

Another meaning of "eling" is a return to consciousness after fainting.

Eling as an ethical value

When a person loses self control, as in sorrow, anger, or disorientation, the Javanese will usually advise that it is necessary to eling. In other words not be overwhelmed by feelings, mixed-up thoughts, or anger. In this case, eling means to regain self control.

Self control to the Javanese is of high value, if not the highest. In this context, eling has more the meaning of consciousness than remembering. It refers to a high level of self-awareness that enables the individual to observe and control all movements of the self, both inner and outer - its actions, words, and thoughts. By being on guard we enable ourselves to remain in the state of eling

In his life the Javanese must be willing and able to see into the depths of everything he encounters and to remain always in a state of eling. It requires the highest level of awareness to observe and maintain control over all the movements of the outer and inner selves. This involves two-way traffic. Being in a state of eling his words and thoughts will attract attention as being important and thus will be heeded.
He will be prevented from falling for the five forbidden things: getting drunk, smoking, opium, stealing, gambling, and whoring. Not only that, he will be saved from an overly materialistic outlook of desiring only for his own benefit.

Being attracted to inward and outward pleasures is in conflict with eling and prevent the Javanese from staying in that state. That is why he is advised to eat and sleep less in order to reduce the conflict in himself caused by the nafsu (passions). This will help him to become more aware and capable of self control.

Other dangers are lying, boasting, and hypocrisy - all ways of showing off the ego and overstepping the boundaries of self control. A Javanese saying states it well: "We have to learn to feel pain when we are glad and gladness when we are in pain." Then we can be said to have become eling.
The method for achieving this is based on inner quietness.

Eling as a level of depth in religious awareness

In this context eling refers to a high level of religious awareness or experience. This is based on meneng (being silent) and wening meaning clarity, purity, transparency. This requires that the role of the ego be reduced so that the person is no longer vulnerable to arrogance, pride, outward pleasures, or material gain.

If the aspiring Javanese trains himself by means of silence, he will see more clearly with his inner eyes, making it possible to see the essence of things, to remove the veil of mere appearances and temporary values. Once he reaches this stage of eling he will draw closer to God. There will no longer be a separation between subject and object, microcosm and macrocosm, or creature and Creator. The sweetness will no longer be separate from the honey.

At a still higher level of eling all names and forms will vanish. There will be only emptiness. This is called the experience of ilang (lost), suwung (vacant), sirna (gone), komplang (empty), also called "dead in life". It requires a strong faith to overcome all obstacles and fear.

To conclude, Eling is a much used word in Javanese because of its close connection to the deepest attitude of the Javanese to his inner life. It is operative not only in religion, but also in everyday life and in their ethical norms. So religious and mystical life, which is usually considered exclusive and individual, permeates the way Javanese people live from day to day. The inner levels neng, ning, and eling are not reserved for religion and mystical observances alone, but are embedded in the Javanese way of life. They are in the background of their dealing with ordinary problems involving ethics, education, economics, philosophy, security, and politics. The Javanese try to solve problems with a clear eye and an inner calm that arises from their deepest inner attitude: eling.
(Subagio Sastrowardoyo, (free) translation Mansur Medeiros)

How a good Javanese should deport himself properly against the background of mysticism has been laid down in two books in the nineteenth century: Wulangreh (Lessons in behaviour), by Paku Buwana IV) and Wedhatama (Excellent teaching), by R.Ng. Ranggawarsita. Both are very similar short works in tembang (fairly modern Javanese song lyrics). They are still being read and reprinted.


Priyayi

The above observations are particularly true for the priyayi type Javanese. To this group belong the descendants of the aristocracy of the Javanese courts of Yogyakarta and Surakarta, who the Dutch won over to become members of the appointive civil service in colonial times. Nowadays they constitute the intelligentsia of Java. They have their roots in the Hindu-Javanese courts of pre- colonial times. A noble and pure character is attributed to them. They were the bearers of the mystic court-traditions taught to them by highly revered guru's.

Wayang shadowplay performance

Priyayi conserved and cultivated the art of dance, drama, music and poetry. Sunan (=king) Kalidjogovan(also called Kalidjaga) is credited by some to have given the ancient Wayang play its present form. Before it was part of the Javanese ancestor-worship. The shadow figures represent the spirits of the dead. Subsequently the Hindu epics Mahabharta and Ramayana were introduced and integrated in Wayang performances.

The language used is often based on Sanskrit words: Susila = chaste,ethical; Budhi = Buddhi = intelligence; Dharma = norm, customary observance (J.Gonda).
In mysticism, as we have seen above, these words take on a different meaning. To live according to one's dharma and the rules of social order is to fulfil "the will of God"(kodrat).
In Javanese mysticism one learns that it is good to honour one's superiors...justice and well-being are expected to flow from above, to originate from a bapak who in his turn derives his power for protection from a higher bapak, etc., until one reaches the realm of supernature and the leader "by the grace of God"
.

All of nature is endowed with souls. Prof.van der Kroef notes: Monistic identification is carried to great lengths: vegetable and animal "essences" shape human personality and destiny (e.g. after eating goat's meat "the goat's tendency to get lost will be manifested in the man as the desire in all circumstances to follow his own impulses") and pantheistic unity is accepted as a matter of course (e.g. "in the world of fishes there are many that serve God with faith and, moreover, are not neglectful in the manner of their prayers...").

Two characteristics of Javanese mysticism

The Javanese mystical tradition is known for its syncretism. In the course of its history it absorbed all the religious traditions that reached Java and gave it its own interpretation.

The aim of the Javanese mystical tradition is that of experiencing unity with God. Among the techniques to achieve this is the dihkr (repetitive prayer), fasting, sleep deprivation, and withdrawal from the world. The purpose of ascetism being purification, facilitating direct communication with the divine world.

Dissent between mystical movements

Between the three groups of abangan, priyayi and santri had always been an area of tension. The Santri accused the other two groups of mixing Islam with Javanism. Prof.van der Kroef: "Conflict, even violence ... has repeatedly occurred between adherents of these groups, frequently involving a clash between provisions of the local adat (customary law) and hukum (Islamic law)...".


The mystical Baduys

In West Java, near the city of Rangkasbitung, South Bantam, lies the mysterious Baduy territory. Outsiders may not enter it. The Baduys guard zealously the mysteries of Javanese mysticism from the dawn of Javanese history. They were respected and consulted by the Javanese Sultans on East Java in olden times as well as the recent rulers of Indonesia. Their territory has no direct goverment interference and as money is taboo there no taxes are levied there.

In the heart of Baduy country, enclosed by a jungle, lies the megalitic sanctuary Sasaka Domas, or Many Stones. No one is allowed to come near it.

The Baduys are regarded as one of the last surviving mandala communities on Java. Members of these communities lived an ascetic life, based on guide lines of the old Sundanese -Hindu/Buddhistic/animistic beliefs, known as Kejawen. It withstood the Islamizing of the country. The Baduy call their religion Sunda Wiwitan [earliest Sundanese]. They were almost totally free of Islamic elements (except those imposed over the past 20 years), they also display very few Hindu characteristics.

Based on a system of taboos, the Baduy religion is animistic. They believe spirits inhabit the rocks, trees, streams and other inanimate objects. These spirits do good or evil depending on one?s observance of the taboos. Thousands of taboos apply to every aspect of daily life.Their lives are governed by interdictions as to possessing property, keeping cattle, laying out sawahs (rice fields), cultivating new products, etc. Their priest-kings are not allowed to leave the territory, to pass the night outside their village, or to communicate with outsiders. The Baduy grow all their own food and make their own tools and clothes. They reject any introduction of artifacts from outside.

Outsiders are not allowed to enter the inner domain which is inhabited by forty families dressed mostly in white. Population is strictly limited. When the limit is exceeded, the surplus population is sent away to live outside the community as Outer Baduy. Though they try to observe the taboos of the Inner Baduy, there is much pressure on them to relax the rules. Even so, they maintain their identity as Baduy to a remarkable degree.

The Indonesian government has attempted to socialize them, and this effort was claimed to have led to a greater openness among the Baduy to the idea of communicating with the outside world. It remains to be seen if this opening up will not lead to a loss of this precious enclave of Javanese mysticism.


Postwar spiritual movements

In colonial times the Dutch Government kept a sharp eye on these movements including the tarekat Sufi brotherhoods who often stirred up uprisings fired by messianic and millenarian expectations. The Indonesian Government followed this policy because it was afraid of communist infiltration into these groups. To keep an eye on them it required the mystical movements (aliran kepercayaan ) to be registered.
In 1947 Subud was registered in Yogyakarta as being founded in Semarang in 1932.
The Bureau for Supervision of Religious Movements (Pakem) under the Ministry of Religious affairs had in 1964 360 movements registered. In 1982 there were 93 groups with in total 123,570 members in Central Java alone.
Pangestu claims to have 50.000 members, Sapta Darma 10.000.

Some aliran kebatinan (another name for spiritual movements) who lean towards Islam dislike being equated with the more obscure Javanese sects who are not averse towards guna-guna, Javanese black magical practices. These groups are formed around a teacher, who claims to have received enlightment (Wahyu).
Hundreds of such groups are known to exist. Their gurus usually claim originality for their revelation or intuitive insight while rejecting knowledge from books or the influence of tradition. When the guru dies, the group often dissolves.


Sumarah

A dissertation (D.G.Howe) and a thesis (Paul Stange) have been devoted to this brotherhood. Its founder, Sukinohartono, was opened by Subud helper Wignosupartono. The latter was known for his healing powers and was also the first person to be opened by Pak Subuh, founder of Subud. Sukinohartono had himself a revelation thereafter in 1932. He underwent a series of experiences from 1935 until 1937. After an intense cleansing Sukino was given to understand that he would receive guidance through hakiki and the angel Gabriel. He was taken in sequence through nine spiritual stages. Stange: "The dimensions he passed through parallel the realms discussed in classical mystical literature, mirror the descriptions found in wayang and Sufism."

Sukinohartono reported a.o. encounters with Jesus Christ and Prophet Muhammad. In 1949 Sukinohartono had another revelation. Neighbours related that they had seen a wahyu celestial light fall on Sukino's house during the night. Sukino also received "clear guidance to the effect that he had to lead humanity toward total submission to God."

In Sumarah there were two levels of practice: kanoman and kasepuhan. Kanoman exercises took three principal forms: karaga, meaning automatic movement; karasa: sensitizing of intuition; and kasuara: spontaneous speech. These were understood as being the result of the movement of God's power within the candidate.

For elders and those mature in spirit was a second initiation: the kasepuan silent meditation. The latter became the standard practice. The kanoman exercise came in disregard after 1949. The same applied to the separation of the sexes and facing Mecca during the exercise. In the early days there was also an intense "checking" of members' progress.

On their website Sumarah is explained as follows: "Sumarah is a philosophy of life and a form of MEDITATION that originally comes from Java, Indonesia. The practice is based on developing sensitivity and acceptance through DEEP RELAXATION of body, feelings and mind. Its aim is to create inside our self the inner space and the silence necessary for the true self to manifest and to speak to us. The word Sumarah means total surrender, a confident and conscious surrender of the partial ego to the universal self. The total surrender is to Life."

Recently meditation workshops all over the world have sprung up. See Sumarah Meditation International Network links below.

Subud

Subud has a place apart amongst these kepercayaan. In most movements meditation is being practised. Subud appears to lean most to the Sufi tarekat tradition, yet bears santri and priyayi influences. Their spiritual excercise, the latihan, appears to be quite unique, however. I have yet to come across a similar exercise in the descriptions of other disciplines. Of course, if one were to term the latihan "ecstatic" several other parallels may be found in other countries and in history (early Christianity).


Presentday Javanese mysticism

As seen above Indonesian mysticism developed in many forms, some clouding its deep inner essence.

It is regrettable that younger Indonesian generations seem to have lost interest to develop their innate gift to transcend sensory reality to tune into their deepest spiritual nature, especially in the present strive between religious factions. Syncretism, characteristic of Javanese mysticism, is known to bridge outer differences and foster understanding between all people.
May be the day will come that the tremendous value of Javanese mysticism will be rediscovered. Its great tradition may need to be transplanted in order to be brought into blossom again.


Incense, flowers are powerful communication tools

If the above gives the impression that mysticism has disappeared from Javanese life the Jakarta Post ran a series of articles on mysticism in August 2002. Some of its contents:

Mysticism has become a part of modern people's lives. Those seeking advice from psychics include educated people and even those who are religious, such as Minister of Religious Affairs Said Agil Al Munawar. Less than two weeks ago, the minister made headlines when he ordered a treasure hunt at a protected heritage site in Bogor, West Java, following the advice of a psychic. [In Indonesian, "psychic" = "kejiwaan."]

Agil said that if the treasure was found, it would be able to cover the country's foreign debt of US$130 billion. The Jakarta Post is running a series of stories surrounding mysticism. This story and a related one on page 8 on August 26,2002, were written by Muninggar Sri Saraswati. While cellular phones and the Internet are the most popular methods of communication by urbanites, there are some who choose kemenyan (incense) and flowers. Some people in Java burn incense and put flowers sprayed with perfume to communicate with spirits of the dead to gain peace of mind, solve problems in life or cure diseases.

The employee of a private company in the Kuningan area of South Jakarta, Soenaryo told The Jakarta Post that he started seeing a spiritualist five years ago when he was facing a problem at his company.
"Nobody could help me at the time. A friend of mine suggested that I see a spiritualist and I did. The spiritualist told me that I have to burn incense and put a plate of flowers and two eggs in my room while I meditated," Soenaryo said.

Although he felt a bit awkward, he obeyed the order and requested the spirits of his ancestors to ask God to help him. Amazingly, Soenaryo found a solution to the problem and he was promoted. He has since become a loyal client of the spiritualist's, who lives in Paseban, Central Jakarta. He has also regularly provided offerings, particularly when he has a problem in life.

"It's only a medium to God, which you might think is strange," said Soenaryo, adding that he makes the offerings every kliwon, or once every Javanese five-day week.

Another customer, Warti, told the Post that she bought incense and flowers for her employer, a middle-aged woman who is a banker.
"She has given offerings and burned incense for two years, when her marriage was in trouble. She usually does it in the morning. She also takes baths with petals in the water at night," said the maid, who buys the items for her every Friday.

Marni, an incense and flower vendor, said that business had been brisk since she opened shop 10 years ago, with most people buying the items usually for funeral rituals.
"The number of people buying these items for mystical purposes started to increase during the economic crisis," she said, referring to the Asian crisis which hit the country in 1997.

Another vendor at Rawa Belong market, West Jakarta, agreed. "There are not as many people buying flowers and incense for mystical purposes as those who buy them for funeral rituals, but they are loyal customers. They come once a week or twice a month," said Tedi, who has been in the business for over eight years.


Trances in modern Indonesian society

Spiritual fervour - going into a trance - is a rather common phenomenon in Indonesia, particularly among factory workers.
All over the Indonesian archipelago there are reports of schoolchildren, young women and factory workers going into mass trances or speaking in tongues.

National television showed in February 2008 eleven students and five teachers going into mass trance in a classroom. About 50 female workers at a garment factory near Jakarta were reported to have gone into a collective trance in June 2007, weeping and jerking their bodies around.

Religion, education and development have done little to halt widespread acceptance of the supernatural in Indonesia. In Indonesia, trance is tied up with culture, explained Lidia Laksana Hidajat, from the psychology faculty of Jakarta's Atma Jaya University.

Lina, 23, said she has been possessed many times in the past six years, always by the same "jinn" or evil spirit. Its face is exactly the same face as my older sister but the body is hard to make out. It calls my name but if I follow it, it disappears, she said. Lina said that mass trances were so common at the Malang cigarette factory, where she worked, that she quit eventually .

Indonesian media reported a group trance among workers at Bentoel's cigarette factory in Malang, Java, in March 2006. Hidajat interviewed 30 of the affected women, who say they were sitting in rows in a long hall, rolling the cigarettes by hand when it happened. They were working in silence. That's one of the requirements of a trance to happen - it's usually quiet and when they are engaged in monotonous activity, she said.
Suddenly, one of the workers started screaming and her body went stiff. The one next to her started crying and went stiff too, triggering a domino effect. A Muslim leader was summoned, but his prayers had no effect. The exhausted women fell asleep and when they awoke they remembered nothing.

Hidajat found there were common factors between the trance victims she interviewed.
Often they are people who are very religious or under pressure. They were also from low socio-economic backgrounds, she said.

Eko Susanto Marsoeki, the director of Malang's Lawang Psychiatric Hospital, said overwork was closely linked to mass trance incidents in factories. Often it is a form of protest that will not be dealt with too harshly, he said.

When more than 30 students at Kalimantan's Pahandut Palangka Raya High School fell into a trance in November, they blamed a spirit in a nearby tree. During the morning flag-raising ceremony, one of the girls started screaming and couldn't move. Soon her friends joined in until more than 30 of them were screaming and fainting, the deputy principal, Friskila said. Some of the girls woke from the trance after a student played a Muslim prayer ring tone on her mobile phone. Others were taken by their parents to local witchdoctors.

Friskila, however, favours a less superstitious explanation.
They are bored, tired and then this happened, she said. They all got a day off school.


Literature:

  • Beatty, Andrew: Varieties of Javanese Religion : An Anthropological account (Cambridge Studies in Social and Cultural Anthropology, March 1999) Becker, Judith: Gamelan Stories Tantrism Islam and Aesthetics in Central Java (1993)
  • Geels, Antoon: Subud and the Javanese mystical tradition (1997)
  • Geertz,Clifford: "The Religion of Java".(1960)
  • Gonda,J.:"Sanskrit in Indonesia" (New Delhi 1973)
  • Hadiwijono, Harun: "Man in the Present Javanese Mysticism" (Thesis, Amsterdam, 1968)
  • Headley, Stephen C.: From Cosmogonony to exorcism in a Javanese Genesis: The spilt seed (2000)
  • Howe,D.G.: "Sumarah, a study of the art of living" (Doctoral dissertation, Chapel Hill 1980) Howell, Julia Day. 1989. ``States of Consciousness and Javanese Ecstatics.'' In 'Creating Indonesian Cultures', edited by P. Alexander. Sydney: Oceania Press. (1989)
  • Kartapradja, Kamil : Aliran kebatinan dan kepercayaan di Indonesia, Jakarta: Yayasan Masagung.(1985)
  • Kroef, J.M.van der: "New Religious Sects in Java"(1959)
  • Lewis,I.M.:"Ecstatic Religion"(1971)
  • Mulder Niels: Mistisisme. Jawa-Ideologi di Indonesia (Yogyakarta 2001)
  • Mulder, Niels: "Mysticism and Everyday Life in Contemporary Java" (Singapore 1978)
  • Mulder, Niels: "Mysticism in Java" (Amsterdam, 1997)
  • Rofé, H.: "The Path of Subud" (1959,1988)
  • Sitompul, P.P.: "Susila Budhi Dharma. Subud - International Mystic movement of Indonesia" (Dissertation, Claremont 1974)
  • Stange, Paul: "The Sumarah movement in Javanese mysticism " (Thesis, Madison 1980)
  • Woodward R.: Islam in Java. Normative Piety and Mysticism in the Sultanate of Yogyakarta (The University of Arizona Press, Tucson, 1989)

The abovementioned doctoral documents are available from University Microfilms International, Ann Arbor MI 48106 and London WC1R 4EJ, UK

A Study of Sufism in post-Soviet Dagestan of the Russian Federation

A Study of Sufism in post-Soviet Dagestan of the Russian Federation

 Galina M.Yemelianova

 

Methodology of the research.

 

            My presentation is based on preliminary results of two successive ESRC-funded research projects    ‘Islam, Ethnicity and Nationalism in post-Soviet Russian Federation’, 1997-1999 and ‘Ethnicity, Politics and Transnational Islam: A Study of an International Sufi Order of Naqshbandi Shaykh Nazim al-Haqqani’, 1998-2001. I am going to focus on organisation, doctrine and politics of Dagestani Sufis. I will also outline the major methodological, ethical and political problems of the research.

 

The main methods employed  in the projects are  : (i)   media analysis[1]  and  (ii) elite interviewing.[2]  

(i) Media analysis serves three roles in the project. Firstly it allows the close monitoring of the ethno- religious dynamic in Dagestan and chart  popular responses to particular events and official policies. Secondly, media analysis  facilitates the isolation of key figures shaping debates about the relationship between ethnicity, religion and nation and forms the background research necessary for the selection of interviewees as well as provide an important point of ‘triangulation’ whereby statements in interview can be cross-referenced against press releases and ‘popularised’ narratives. Thirdly, the media is a key agent in the construction of discourses of Islam and nationalism and thus requires the same critical analysis as state, religious and non-governmental documents and activities. Since it is the discursive role of the media that is central to the study, analysis is  textual – focusing on articles by leading Islamic  authorities, political and public figures, analysts and academics – rather than a quantitative content analysis. All key local and regional newspapers as well as journals that are thematically related to the research have been  studied over a period  1997-2000. 

 

(ii) Elite interviews are an effective way of accessing information from uniquely privileged actors in the processes under investigation. The respondents’ direct  involvement  in the  shaping of the new spiritual,    ideological and political infrastructures as well as public and elite debates make them ‘double’ objects of study: analysis of interviews will provide valuable insight into the ‘empirical’ processes at work but also into the discursive strategies of key actors in those processes. Respondents have been  selected for approach on the basis of  information acquired  from the  study of periodicals,  the review of  official documents and  specialist  literature,  from the networks and contacts obtained during  research  and  as a result of  ‘snowball sampling’. About 120  interviews have been conducted, evenly divided between:  Shaykh Nazim’s followers; Shaykh Nazim’s opponents among Dagestani Sufis; representatives of non-Sufi (including Salafiya) Islam; members of the Islamic officialdom; representatives of  political, intellectual and  cultural  elite.

Historical background of the research.

 

  Dagestan[3]  was chosen for the research because of  its strong and lengthy Sufi tradition and its special place in the history of the International Sufi Order of Shaykh Nazim al-Haqqani. Islam was brought to Dagestan by the Arabs in the seventh and eighth centuries; by the fifteenth and sixteenth Dagestanis had  adopted  the Shafii madhhab(juridical school) of Sunni Islam. From the sixteenth century onwards the majority of Dagestani Muslims chose to profess Sufi Islam. The resulting interweaving between Sufi and  tukhum (clan) structures brought about  the emergence of a specific Dagestani  Sufism, known as tariqatism, which incorporated numerous  pre-Islamic customs and  adat (customary law) norms.[4] Tariqatism became  the dominant form of popular Islam, although there was also a strong tradition of intellectual, ‘high’ Islam in  Dagestan,  represented by ulema (Islamic scholars).  In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries the Naqshbandi  tariqa  provided  a mobilising framework for resistance to Russian expansionism in the region.

After the Bolshevik revolution in 1917 Dagestan was incorporated within the Soviet  state.[5] Over seventy years of Soviet atheism had a devastating impact on Islam in Dagestan. The vast majority of Dagestani mosques and  medresses (Islamic schools) were destroyed or closed,  Sufi shaykhs  and ulema  were either  killed or persecuted or forced to emigrate. As a result, ‘high’ intellectual Islam  was  irreversibly undermined, while  popular  Sufi Islam was reduced to unofficial  underground  status. Having nevertheless failed to eradicate Islam, the Soviets opted for its control through the Muftiyats (the Higher Islamic administrations),  staffed  with  collaborationist  Muslim clerics, [6] which were  institutionalised  as  the only legitimate representatives of Soviet Muslims.  From 1943 until 1989 Dagestani  Muslims, alongside their co-religionists from the other  Islamic autonomies of the North Caucasus,  were administered by the  DUMSK (the Muftiyat of the Muslims of the North Caucasus), centred in Makhachkala. The DUMSK’s leadership subscribed to the official position on  tariqatism  which  qualified it as  religious obscurantism  and suppressed any Sufi  activities.  Nevertheless, in spite of the Soviet persecutions Dagestani Sufism survived, although it was pushed deeply underground. Moreover, the Sufi shaykhs and not the official clergy remained the genuine  custodians  of Islamic faith and culture  in Dagestan. Since the Gorbachevian thaw of 1986-1991 Dagestan has been one of  the  epicentres of  an Islamic resurgence characteristic of  the Muslim-populated areas of the former Soviet Union. Post-Communist religious liberalisation  enabled the Dagestani Sufis to end  their secretive existence.

 

Tariqatism: organisation, doctrine and political engagement.

 

The disintegration of the totalitarian Soviet system which began in the late 1980s  had an invigorating impact on  Dagestani Sufism, or tariqatism.  It emerged from underground and championed the grass-roots re-Islamisation of Dagestani society. Despite the decades of Soviet oppression tariqatists had clandestinely preserved their hierarchical structures, affiliated to specific kinship and sub-kinship local formations. According to some expert estimations Sufis constitute over 60 per cent of the Dagestani Muslim population.[7] The majority of Sufis in poly-ethnic Dagestan are Avars, who are considered the most religious ethnic group. There are also many Sufis among  Dargins,  Kumyks and Nogays who have the reputation for being moderately religious peoples. In terms of organisation Dagestani Sufis are affiliated to between 40 and 50  virds   (schools of teaching within the  tariqa). The biggest are the Naqshbandi and  Shazali  virds. However, the Akkin  Chechens, who live in Dagestan’s  Khasavyurtovskii  raion (district),  mainly belong to the  Kadiri tariqa.[8] There are also some followers of  the Dzhazuli  tariqa and of the Yasawi tariqa ( among Nogay Turks of Nogayskii district).  The virds are headed by shaykhs some of whom  simultaneously teach  according to several different schools.  The most common practice is when the same  Sufi shaykh heads a Naqshbandi and a Shazali vird.[9]  Among the influential living Dagestani  shaykhs  are  Badrudin Botlikhskii, Said-afendi Chirkeevskii, Magomed Amin Gadzhiev, Mukhadzhir Dogrelinskii, Arslanali Gamzatov(Paraulskii), Ramazan Gimrinskii, Idris-khadzhi Israphilov, Abdulwahid Kakamakhinskii, Muhammad Mukhtar Kakhulayskii, Tadjudin Khasavyurtovskii, Siradzhudin Khurikskii  and Abdulgani Zakatalskii. Some Dagestani Sufis follow the path of the dead  shaykhs Ali-khadzhi Akushinskii, Amay, Gasan Kakhibskii, Kunta-khadzhi  and Vis-khadzhi.[10]

Historically  Dagestani  tariqatists, especially those of Naqshbandi tariqa, have been much more involved in politics than Sufis elsewhere in Islamic world. Under perestroika Dagestani Sufis and traditionalist Muslims  generally returned to public life and challenged the legitimacy of the Soviet Islamic officialdom, represented by  the Spiritual Board of Muslims of the North Caucasus, or DUMSK.[11] They became the major driving force of Islamic revival in the republic. A characteristic symbol of the Sufi dimension of the latter  was the restoration of the traditions of ziyarat (popular Sufi pilgrimage)  to over  800  mazars (burial  places of  shaykhs, or  some other objects of Sufi worship).  Tariqatists also strengthened  their involvement in the processes of decision-making on a local level through the promotion of  their representatives in village administrations. [12] This facilitated the renewal of public Islamic festivals, as well as the re-introduction of some elements of Islamic food norms and dress codes which existed in pre-Soviet times.

Among the other important characteristics of the religious revival  were the rapid increase in the number of mosques and Islamic educational establishments. Until 1985 there were only 27 registered  mosques;  there were no Islamic  schools, and less than a dozen Dagestani Muslims were allowed to conduct an annual  hajj ( a pilgrimage).   In 1996 there were already 1,670 registered mosques, nine Islamic institutes, including three Islamic Universities, 25  medresses, 670 mektebs (primary Islamic schools) and eleven Islamic cultural and charity  centres.[13] Dagestan also witnessed the emergence of an Islamic press which did not exist during the Soviet period. Among the first Islamic periodicals were the newspapers As-Salam  (‘Peace’), Nur-ul-Islam(‘Light of Islam’), Islamskii Vestnik(‘Islamic News’) and Mezhdunarodnaya Musulmanskaya Gazeta(‘International Islamic Newspaper’). The  hajj, which used to be a luxury restricted to just a few privileged clerics, became accessible for many thousands of ordinary Dagestani Muslims.

The increased religious activity of the tariqatists was accompanied by their rapid politicisation.    The Sufis’ intrinsic conflict with the Soviet regime  predetermined  their  participation  in the Islamo-democratic opposition movement which  also included dissident intellectuals  and Islamists, incorrectly but widely labeled as Wahhabis. [14] The ultimate goal of the opposition  was economic and political liberalisation and the re-Islamisation of state and society in Dagestan.  Their immediate demands were the resignation of the old leadership of the DUMSK,  which was regarded as the major obstacle to genuine  Islamic revival in Dagestan, and their replacement by a younger generation of Islamic clerics, the ‘young Imams’- including both Sufis and Islamists -who claimed to have had no involvement with the Soviet state and the KGB.   In 1989  Muftii Gekkiev of the  DUMSK  was  charged with corruption,  collaboration  with the KGB and  moral  laxity, and was  forced to resign.[15]

After  Gekkiev’s resignation the Islamo-democratic alliance fell apart. Tariqatists  insisted on their supremacy in the Dagestani  umma ( Islamic community) and alienated the Islamists.  In order to strengthen their religious and political positions  tariqatist activists allied with some of the leaders of  the various nationalist  movements which mushroomed  during  the ‘parade of sovereignties’ in Russia between 1989 and 1992. The  establishment of  closer  links  between the tariqatists  and nationalists  ensured the  Islamisation of the nationalist agenda. As a result, the leaders of the main nationalist organisations clashed over the right to control the Muftiyat, which  they  regarded as  an indispensable attribute of nationhood, as well as an important source of foreign and domestic cash.

In 1989 the DUMSK gave in to the pressure from various nationalist  factions and split into seven separate  Muftiyats, one in each  Muslim autonomy of the North Caucasus. Most of them were headed by representatives of Sufi Islam which was henceforth legalised and became the official strand of Islam. In Dagestan the leadership of the newly established  autonomous Muftiyat- the DUMD (The Spiritual Board of Muslims of Dagestan) - was contested by traditionalists representing the largest ethnic groups, i.e.Avars, Dargins, Kumyks and  Laks. Between 1989 and 1992  the central strife occurred between Avars, who dominated the Islamic officialdom in the Soviet period, and the rest. This  major split  was further exacerbated by internal conflicts. For example, Avar traditionalists were divided by their attitude to the  influential Naqshbandi  shaykh Said-afendi Chirkeevskii whose  vird had a substantial numerical and ideological superiority over the other Sufi virds. As for the non-Avar bloc, its integrity was jeopardised by collisions between Dargin, Kumyk and Lak traditionalists.

Initially, representatives of non-Avar ethnic groups took the lead in the race for the Muftiyat.   In  early 1989 Kumyks promoted their  candidate  shaykh  Muhammad  Mukhtar  Babatov  to the post of Dagestani Muftii. Several months later Babatov was replaced by Abdulla Aligadzgiev, a  protégé of the Dargin ulema.   In January 1990  the Kumyks fought back: Kumyk Bagauddin  Isayev  became  the next  Muftii of Dagestan. However, the religious leadership of Kumyks and  Dargins was short-lived.  From late 1990 the  Avar ‘young Imams’ intensified their campaign  for the restoration of Avar domination within the Islamic officialdom. It is significant that in order to avoid association with the old, Soviet-era Islamic establishment, they stressed their allegedly democratic image. In particular, they established co-operation with the  Islamic Democratic Party (the IDP), led  by Abdurashid  Saidov.[16] In February 1992  Avars resumed their control over the Muftiyat through the ‘election’ of Avar Muftii  Sayid Akhmed  Darbishgadzhiyev. In spite of the democratic image of the new Muftii he failed to gain the support of the majority of non-Avar clerics. Their response was the formation of three other ethnic Muftiyats which claimed to represent Muslims of  Kumyk, Dargin and Lak ethnicity.[17] Faced with growing alienation within the non-Avar  Islamic community, the Avar leadership of the  DUMD abandoned its  pro-democracy stance, broke its relations with the IDP  and turned to the Government for support.  

 The change of political orientation of  the DUMD was accompanied by the regrouping of forces among Avar traditionalists. By 1994 it was clear that Avar shaykh  Said-Aitseev  (Chirkeevskii) had outplayed his rivals both among the tariqatists and ulema and had asserted his control over the DUMD. The new Muftii  Magomed Darbishev  was a protégé of Said-afandi and an obedient orchestrator of his will. Darbishev’s successors  Seyid Muhammad  Abubakarov (Avar, 1996-1998) and  Ahmad –khadzhi Abdulaev (Avar, 1998- ) were similarly  close to Said-afendi. During the period of their administration Said-afandi’s murids (disciples), especially from Gumbetovskii  raion, the homeland of Said-afendi, were appointed to the top posts within the DUMD.[18]

Parallel to the establishment of  his religious supremacy  shaykh Said-afendi  has increased his influence in other spheres of public life. His followers or sympathisers have also penetrated the political structures.  Said-afandi’s  approval  has become  crucial for many Dagestani politicians and businessmen.[19] His growing authority forced some of his former opponents to seek his favour. For example, Said-afandi’sparty included  Kumyk shaykh Arslanali Gamzatov and Dargin  shaykh Abdulwahid Kakamakhinskii. Similarly, Said-afendi’s rivals among the Avar  traditionalists, shaykhs  Tadzhuddin Khasavyurtovskii and Idris-khadzhi Israphilov, joined the opposition camp led by Kumyk shaykhs  Muhammad Mukhtar Kakhulayskii and  Ilyas-khadzhi and  Dargin traditionalists  Muhammad Amin, Magomed-hadzhi and Abdulla-khadzhi Aligadzhiev.

In  1994 the Dagestani authorities responded to  Said-afendi’s demand  and declared  the DUMD as the only legitimate  supreme  Islamic authority  in Dagestan. In fact, the Naqshbandi Sufism of shaykh Said-afandi’s vird was associated with mainstream  Islam in  Dagestan. The rival Kumyk, Dargin and Lak Muftiyats were pronounced illegitimate and self-proclaimed. Alongside shaykh Said-afandi the  DUMD recognised the legitimacy of three other Naqshbandi-Shazali shaykhs -Badruddin Botlikhskii, Arslanali Gamzatov (Paraulskii) and Abdulwahid Karamakhinskii - who accepted the supremacy of Said-afandi. The rest of the Dagestani shaykhs were pronounced  mutashayks (spurious shaykhs).

            The official backing allowed the DUMD and Said-afandi, in particular, to employ the state infrastructure, including the official mass media and the intelligence  services, to secure his domination.[20]  This enabled the DUMD to unleash  a propaganda campaign against  an  advancing Wahhabism which presented the major threat to the  DUMD’s spiritual monopoly. Wahhabis were  portrayed as agents of ‘dollar Islam’ which  was  being artificially implanted by foreign powers hostile not only to traditional Islam but to the national interests of Dagestan and the Russian Federation as a whole. As for the Dagestani authorities they had their own vested interest  in the campaign against Wahhabism, which provided them with a  means to boost their political credibility among a population increasingly disillusioned with corrupt and incompetent Government.

 In December 1997, under pressure from Said-afendi’s group, the Dagestani  Parliament  issued a ban on the activities of the Wahhabis, who were defined as religious extremists. Many Wahhabi leaders were arrested, their offices were demolished and their periodicals banned. This official action had a radicalising effect on  Dagestani  Wahhabis, many of whom were pushed into alliance with the Chechen  separatists. At the beginning of 1998  the leaders  of Wahhabi Jamaat  announced the start of a jihad against the Dagestani regime.  In August and September 1999 they participated in the abortive military Chechen invasion of Dagestan commanded by the Chechen field commanders Basaev and Khattab in  Tsumadinskii, Botlikhskii and Novolakskii raions of Dagestan. The Dagestani authorities’ reaction to the invasion was further  suppression of Wahhabism and adoption of a new and tougher law aimed at the complete eradication of Wahhabism in Dagestan. The participation of radical Wahhabis in the Chechen incursion shifted Dagestani public opinion decisively  in favour of tariqatism  and  undermined the Wahhabis’ chances of success in the perceivable  future. The crack-down on Wahhabism further strengthened  Said-afandi’s  grip over the Islamic community of Dagestan.

The Tariqatists’ alliance with the de facto  atheistic  ruling regime affected their position on the pace and scope of religious reform in Dagestan. Unlike the Islamo-democratic opposition, they dropped the goal of an Islamic state and subscribed to exclusively parliamentary methods of achieving the re-Islamisation of Dagestani society. The DUMD leaders envisage this coming about through the Islamisation of education and the gradual re-introduction of Islamic legal norms which existed in the 1920s.[21] They regard Turkish Islam - which is close  to the traditions of Naqshbandiya Sufism - as a possible model for tariqatism in Dagestan.[22] The Muftiyat designated the puppet  Islamic Party of Dagestan (the IPD) to lobby on behalf of the Islamic agenda.[23]  The  IPD’s parliamentary  demands  include  the removal from the Constitution of Dagestan of the clauses on the separation of church and state and of schools from the church, and the official recognition of Islam as the  ‘religion of the democratic majority.’ [24]

In spite of the tariqatist  self-presentation as the champion of Muslims’ interests  the popular rating of the   tariqatist officialdom as represented by the  DUMD  has been low.   Tariqatists have been accused of endemic corruption and  links with criminal mafia groups; the  tariqatist DUMD has also been sharply  criticised  for fraud,  theological  incompetence and  aggressive  intolerance to its religious opponents. [25]  There has been a widely held perception that the DUMD  has used its monopoly over hajj-related  matters  for unlawful enrichment. Specifically, it  has  manipulated  the visa fees and the prices of the Koran and other Islamic literature supplied by various foreign Islamic organisations and funds free of charge.[26]  The public has also been unhappy with the way  in which the DUMD appoints local Imams. Sometimes it installs as village Imams poorly educated persons whose main ‘virtue’ is their loyalty to shaykh Said-afendi. Clerical opponents reproach the  DUMD  leaders  for their  inadequate religious and theological training  and the absence of authoritative ulema among them. It is significant that since the early 1990s Dagestan’s Muftiis have not issued one fetwa.

On the whole, the incorporation of tariqatism within the corrupt and semi-criminal state system has predetermined their association with the ruling regime, the post-Soviet re-shaping of which was over by the mid-1990s.   Its core was made up of the old, atheistic Soviet/Party nomenklatura, the members of which maintained their jobs, although under new ‘democratic’ labels.[27] They were joined  by  some new  figures who represented  either the  Dagestani  nouveau riche, a Dagestani version of new Russians, or the activists of the major ethnic business  parties.[28]  Although according to the Dagestani constitution fourteen titular ethnic groups/nationalities have the right of legislative initiative and are equally represented in the State Council,[29] the actual political and economic power has been monopolised  by the Dargins and the Avars. While the Dargins have secured their influence in the political domain, the Avars have preserved their traditional domination in the economic and ideological spheres.[30]  Most top politicians have been closely connected with their respective ethnic business mafias. The Dagestani Government has been strongly dependent on federal subsidies. So, the ruling regime, including the  tariqatist  Islamic officialdom, has been characterised  by  authoritarianism, widespread fraud, corruption, the inability to curb the increase in crime and terrorism and to handle the acute economic and social problems. The social consequences of this regime have been the continuation of backwardness and stagnation, and the blocking of any structural reforms  leading to the modernisation of Dagestani society and its evolution into a democratic civil  entity.

 

The role of Shaykh  Nazim  al-Haqqani among Dagestani Sufis.

 

In Dagestan  Shaykh Nazim has managed to acquire a reasonable number of followers.  During his visit of Dagestan in 1997  Shaykh Nazim nominated a Dagestani Sufi Abdul Wahid( Avar)  as his khalifa. There are murids of Shaykh Nazim in several  raions (districts) of Dagestan, as well as in Chechnya and Karachaevo-Cherkessiya. The majority of his murids are various Turkic peoples, although the ethnic factor is not crucial and there are also his murids among Caucasian peoples-Avars, Laks and Dargins, as well as Chechens.   Shaykh Nazim is also recognised  as a genuine Naqshbandi shaykh by the followers of Dagestani shaykh Sharafuddin,  the predecessor  of Shaykh Abdalla ad-Dagestani, the shaykh of Nazim al-Haqqani.  It is significant that  Shaykh  Nazim  is highly  respected among Dagestan’s pro-Western dissident intellectuals. They distrust Shaykh Sayid-afandi Chirkeevskii  and consider him a descendant of those members of the Naqshbandi tariqa  who submitted to the Russian/Soviet  rule and who have been paid by the imperial Russia, Soviet and post-Soviet regimes in Dagestan. However, the prozelytising activity by Shaykh Nazim  in Dagestan has been seriously complicated by:

the  high level of politicisation of the Naqshbandi vird of Shaykh Sayid-afandi Chirkeevskii;

 its  de-facto  spiritual monopoly over the Dagestani  Islamic officialdom;

 its  juxtaposition with the so-called Wahhabis and rival Sufi authorities;

 the general political  instability  in the region and the recent military insurgence of Chechen-Dagestani Islamists(Wahhabis) in the western Dagestan.

 the technological backwardness of Dagestan that excludes it from the cyber network which is crucial in Shaykh Nazim’s politics in Europe, the USA and other localities.

 In Dagestan Shaykh Nazim has to deal with official propaganda forged by the Muftiyat which presents him as a spurious shaykh, or mutashaykh. The Muftiyat recognises the legitimacy of only four Dagestani shaykhs: Sayid-afandi Chikkeevskii, Badruddin Botlikhskii, Arslanali Gamzatov(Paraulskii) and Abdul-Wahid Kakamakhinskii. All of them belong to the Naqshbandi-Shazali tariqa and  claim to be   successors to Shaykh Sayful-qadi who is considered as kutba. They argue  Shaykh Nazim’s claims   to his place in the  Naqshbandi  silsila derived  from the succession controversy which existed since  Dagestani  Naqshbandi  Shaykh  Abdurahman as-Sughuri (d.1882). The latter headed the  most militant members of the  tariqa who accused the others of complacency  towards the Russian occupation and preferred the emigration to submission to the Russian rule. It significant that the  largest  part of  Naqshbandis  accepted the Russian domination (the line of Shaykh Sayful-qadi). They, however, criticized their opponents for politicization which their regarded as tagayur (deviation) from the Naqshbandi principles. Hypothetically, it may be possible that Shaykh Nazim al-Haqqani represents  that militant branch  of the tariqa while Shaykh Sayid-afandi and other Dagestani official shaykhs belong to the mainstream Naqshbandi tariqa.

The  Dagestani official  Islamic periodicals have accused Shaykh Nazim of:

forging the  Naqshbandi teaching for his own personal  and political ends, i.e. violation of the basic principle  man tagayyara laysa minna  ( those who changed are not with us );

presenting himself as one of the nine and the  last genuine  Naqshbandi shaykhs who perceived the truth;

not recognising the  madhhabs;

the succession to shaykh Abdalla ad-Dagestani who was himself  a mutashaykh;

the devaluation of the institute of  ijaza (permission)  by its thoughtless and arbitrarily distribution;

the distortion of the Sufi ethics by invading the spiritual domain of other Dagestani shaykhs, by ignoring and bypassing the Dagestani Muftiyat;

the violation of the Naqshbandi zikr  by introducing some elements of a loud  zikr of ‘Allah, Allah, Allah’, instead of the respective internal zikr;

the close relations with Nadirshah Khachilaev (Lak), former chairman of the Union of Muslims of Russia (the UMR)  who from September 1999 has been under  the official criminal investigation related to his involvement in the  Chechen-Islamist  invasion of Dagestan;

being commissioned by British an Turkish intelligence to undermine the genuine tariqatism in Dagestan from within.[31]

The official  military and political crack-down on Wahhabism and all other non-traditional religious organisations and movements  which began in August 1999 has pushed Shaykh Nazims’s followers and sympathizers deeply underground. Since then the official mass media has fought the alleged conspiracy of ‘the third force’ represented by MI 6 and the CIS which seeks to destabilise  the Islamic regions of Russia and Central Asia in the interests of the American and British oil and gas companies building an alternative gas and oil transport route from Central Asia to Pakistan via Afghanistan, i.e. by-passing Iran and Iraq. It is also alleged  that  Saudi Arabia, the USA and the UK have contributed a great deal towards Chechnya’s  transformation  into a base of international terrorism and  Wahhabism in order to perpetuate the economic weakness of Russia and to secure its position as a provider of raw materials to the West.  Wahhabism, hence,  is qualified as an extremist religious and political movement.  In terms of the project this means that any academic, or other association with Great Britain is perceived as suspicious. 

 

Notes on contributors.

 

Dr Galina Yemelianova is a specialist in Islamic studies. She received her PhD  in  Islamic  history  from Moscow  State University in 1985.  Until 1994 she was a Research Fellow at the Institute of  Oriental Studies of the Russian Academy  of  Sciences  in Moscow. Since 1994  she  has  been  a  Research Fellow at  the Centre for Russian and East European  Studies at the University of Birmingham, UK. She has researched and published extensively in Russia and internationally on history and contemporary  ethno-political  and religious issues in the Middle East and the Islamic regions of the Russian/Soviet empire and post-Soviet Russia.  She is currently working on the  ESRC-funded project ‘Ethnicity, Politics and Transnational Islam: A Study of an International Sufi Order’  focusing on autonomous republic  of  Dagestan of the Russian Federation.

 



[1] See:A.Bell and P.Garrett, eds.(1998) Approaches to Media Discourse, Oxford:Blackwell;

A.Berger (1991) Media Research  Technique, London:Sage Pablications;  and A.Teun van Dijk, ed. (1985) Discourse and Communication: New Approaches to the Analysis of Mass Media, Berlin:Walter de Gruyter.

 

 

 

[2] See: R.Hertz and J.B.Imber, eds.(1995) Studying Elites Using Qualitative Methods, Sage; G.Moyser and M.Wagstaffe,eds. (1987) Research Methods for Elite Studies, London: Sage Publications ; and D.Richards (1996)’Elite Interviewing: Approaches and Pitfalls’, Politics, vol.16, no3, September.  

 

[3] Dagestan  is an autonomous republic of the Russian Federation. It is situated in the eastern part of the North Caucasus. Its territory is 50,300 square kilometres and its population is 1,954,252 (1995). The urban population makes up 43.6 per cent of the total while the rural population is 56.4 per cent. Dagestan is one of the least economically developed autonomous republics of the Russian Federation and is strongly dependent on federal subsidies and other suppliers. It is populated by over thirty different ethnic groups, each of which has its own culture and speaks a distinctive language incomprehensible to the rest.

[4] The term tariqatism  derives from an Arabic word  tariqa  (‘a path’)  which also  means a mystical form of Islam. At the  core of tariqatism is the mystical link between  a Sufi  shaykh  and his disciples, or murids.   The authority of a shaykh is based on a mystical permission, or barakat,  which is transferred from the founder of the tariqa to successive shaykhs. The line of succession of  shaykhs  is known as the ‘golden chain’, or silsila.  An important  characteristic of a shaykh is his ability to perform miracles, or  karamat.  Tariqatists believe that the

 tariqa  provides closer contact between Allah and an individual  Muslim than orthodox Islam.

[5] In 1922 Dagestan was transformed into an autonomous republic within the Russian  Federation of the USSR.

[6] The institution of  the Muftiyat was  introduced by Tsarina  Catherine  the Great in 1789. During the Soviet time there were four  Muftiyats:the Muftiyat in Tashkent (Uzbekistan) administered the Muslims of Central Asia; the Muftiyat in  Baku (Azerbaijan) was in charge of Muslims of the Transcaucasus;  The Muftiyat in Makhachkala (Dagestan) controlled  Muslims of the North Caucasus and  the Muftiyat in Ufa (Bashkorstan) dealt with Muslims of the Volga-Urals and Central Russia. 

[7] Interview with Magomed Kurbanov, the Deputy Minister of Nationalities of Dagestan, Makhachkala, 30 June 1998.

[8] Interview with Magomed Kurbanov, the Deputy Minister of Nationalities of Dagestan, Makhachkala, 30 June 1998.

[9] For example, the leading Dagestani shaykh  Sayid-afendi Chirkeevskii simultaneously controls a number of Naqshbandi and Shazali virds.

[10] Nur-ul-Islam, no3, March, 1997.

[11] In the case of Dagestan the term ‘Islamic traditionalism’ is wider than the term ‘tariqatism’ since it also includes non-Sufi ulema whose present unofficial leader is Abdul-khadzhi Aligadzhiev.

[12] By the end of 1999 Imams and other Islamic authorities controlled the decision-making  process in 68 villages of Dagestan. Islamskii Vestnik, no 22, 1999. 

[13] Ibid.

[14] Historically, Wahhabism was a religious and political movement within the most strict and rigid Khanbali  maddhab of Sunni Islam. It originated in the mid-18th century in Arabia and was named after its leader Muhammad Abd al-Wahhab. Strictly speaking the use of the term ‘Wahhabism’  in relation to Dagestani Islamic fundamentalism is  incorrect because  the latter  is based  on a wider doctrinal foundation than the teaching of Abd al-Wahhab.  However, due to the term’s wide acceptance by politicians and journalists this article uses it as the description of Dagestani Islamic fundamentalism.

[15] A.Malashenko, Islamskoe Vozrozhdeniye v Sovremennoi Rossii, Moscow: Carnegie Endowment,1998, p.106.

[16] The IDP was formed in 1990 by Dagestani intellectuals of democratic orientation under the leadership of Abdurashid  Saidov. The original programme of the party presented a paradoxical combination of Islamic and democratic ideals, opposing the rule of the corrupted Party nomenclatura and calling for its replacement by an Islamic-democratic  Government. In doctrinal terms  it favoured tariqatism although it was also tolerant towards Wahhabism.

[17] G.Yemelianova, ‘Islam and Nation Building in Tatarstan and Dagestan of the Russian Federation’, Nationalities Papers, vol.27, no 4, 1999,  p.619.

[18] Among Said-afendi’s murids who occupied the top positions  in the Islamic administration were, for example,  Muftii Abubakarov (1994-1998); his  father Khasmuhammad –khadzhi who headed the Council of the Dagestani Imams of the Central Mosque of Makhachkala; and  Arslanali Gamzatov, the head of the  Council of the Dagestani  Ulema. 

[19] Interview with M.Kurbanov, Makhachkala, 17 July 1997.

[20] In spite of close collaboration between the DUMD and the Dagestani authorities, relations between them have not been trouble-free. For example, in 1997-98 the DUMD bitterly criticised the Government for slowing down the Islamisation  project, promoted by the DUMD, and for ‘insufficient ‘ hostility towards Wahhabis. As-Salam, no23, December, 1997. 

[21] In particular, the  DUMD  calls for the  introduction in state schools and colleges of  religious subjects; the right of  various religious organisations to teach religion outside the curriculum; the creation of Islamic nursery schools; the right of students at religious institutes to study general subjects as well and the creation of a state Islamic University which would produce qualified Imams and Islamic teachers. The DUMD also presses for the declaration of  Friday as a holiday; the introduction of some elements of the shariat into the legal system,  the amendment of the symbols and paraphernalia of the state in line with the requirements of Islam;  the adjustment of the  slaughter of animals and birds to the shariat;  the  imposition  of restrictions on the sale of alcohol and erotic literature and  the introduction of  Islamic dress codes for women. As-Salam, no22, December, 1997; As-Salam, no 13 (77), July, 1988.

[22] The new Central Mosque in Makhachkala, opened in 1996, was built with Turkish aid, and until 1998 a representative of Turkey was the Imam of the mosque. 

[23] The IPD was formed in 1994 as a result of a split in the Islamic Democratic Party (the IDP) between the democratic faction led by its founder Abdurashid Saidov, and the pro-government faction of Surokat  Asiyatilov. The leader of the IDP is  a Parliamentary Deputy, former wrestler and University lecturer.

[24] Dagestanskaia Pravda, Makhachkala, 29 May 1996; As-Salam, no24 (64), December, 1997; Nur-ul-Islam, no12, July, 1998; Islamskii Vestnik, no24, 27.07-02.08.98.

[25] For example, one of the main donors of the DUMD is Sharapuddin Musaev, the head of a large organised crime group in the town of  Kaspiisk known as the Kaspiisk mafia.

[26] According to some figures, financial machinations made the DUMD some $182,000 profit from the hajj in 1998 alone.

[27]In the aftermath of the break-up of the USSR the Dagestani authorities were the most resistant to any democratic reforms. They hung on to the Soviet political system until 1995, much longer than anywhere else in Russia.

[28] The term ‘ethnic party’ was introduced by the Dagestani sociologist Enver Kisriev to describe quasi-party political organisations based on ethnic and clan solidarity. See E.Kisriev, ‘Dagestan’, Mezhetnicheskie Otnosheniia i Konflikti v post-Sovetskikh Gosuarstvakh, Ezhegodnii Doklad, 1998, p.39.

[29]The Dagestani Constitution of 1994 nominated the fourteen largest ethnic groups as titular. They are: Avars, Dargins, Kumyks, Lezgins, Russians, Laks, Tabasarans, Chechens, Azeris, Nogays, Mountain Jews and Tats, Rutuls, Aguls and Tsakhurs. Konstitutsiia Respubliki Dagestan, Makhachkala:Yupiter, 1994, p.20.

[30] The Dargin clan includes, for example, M.Magomedov, the head of the State Council of Dagestan and Amir Saidov, the Mayor of Makhachkala.  The leaders of the Avar clan are M.Aliev, the chairman of the People’s Assembly (the Parliament), G.Makhachev, the vice-Premier and former leader of the Avar national movement, S.Asiyatilov, the leader of the Islamic Party of Dagestan (the IPD) and Muftii Abdullaev of Dagestan.

[31] Nurul Islam (The Light of Islam), No 8, August, Makhachkala, 1997.

 

A Glimpse at Sufism in the Balkans

 

Huseyin Abiva (Chicago)  

Introduction

            The nearly six centuries of Ottoman rule over southeastern Europe provided ample opportunity for the spread of Islam. Indeed, among the nations that now comprise the Balkans Peninsula (Albania, Bosnia-Hercegovina, Bulgaria, Croatia, Greece, Macedonia, Montenegro and Serbia) the visible Muslim component to their populations are readily evident. Two of these nations, Albania and Bosnia-Hercegovina, undoubtedly have Muslim majority populations. The populations of Macedonia and Serbia (which includes Kosova) are comprised of huge Muslim minorities. In Croatia, Bulgaria, Montenegro and Greece there are smaller percentages, but in the case of Bulgaria this means more than 1 million!

            The largest Muslim ethnic group present in the Balkans is the Albanians, who number over 5 million. They are concentrated in the central and southern areas of the Peninsula and form the overwhelming majority of the population in Albania, the Serbian occupied province of Kosova and western Macedonia. There are small groups of Albanians living in Bosnia, Montenegro and Croatia who are mainly émigrés from the Tito era. In regards to religion, though they are for the most part followers of Islam (or the non-practicing descendants of Muslims), Albanians have never found it a force for ethnic unity. Significant portions of the Albanian people still cling to either Catholic or Orthodox Christianity, and among the Muslim population there was further division between the Sunni majority and the followers of the Shi’ah Bektashi (see below).    

            The next cultural element in the Muslim population of the Balkan Peninsula are the Slavs. They number some 3.5 million and are the descendants of those of the region who embraced Islam during the centuries of Ottoman rule. Culturally and linguistically they are a diverse group whose racial base and religious faith form for the only common factor. They form a plurality of the inhabitants of Bosnia-Hercegovina (where they are known as Bošnjaks), a majority of the Serbian-occupied region of the Sandzak of Novi Pazar, a significant minority in Macedonia (where they are known as Torbeši) and Bulgaria (where they identify themselves as Pomaks). Small pockets of Slav speaking Muslims (Pomaks) can also be found in northern Greece and in Kosova (Goranis).       

            The Turkish element of the Muslim population is but a mere shadow of what it once was, say a hundred years ago. In the past, Turks made up significant portions of the populations of Macedonia, Thessaly, the Morea and Bulgaria. At present, there are nearly one million Turks who continue to live in Bulgaria. In Macedonia and Greece there are some 200,000 Muslims who still identify themselves as Turks. There are also much smaller communities of ethnic Turks who live in the urban centers Kosova and the Sandzak.

            The smallest of the compact Balkan Islamic ethnic groups are the Roma (Gypsy) people. They are widely distributed throughout the region and tend to follow the dominant religion where they reside. Thus in the heavily Islamized regions of Bosnia, Albania, Bulgaria and Macedonia they usually profess Islam as their creed. In Macedonia the Roma are a highly visible minority, especially around the capitol city of Skopje. Historically, the Roma have (and continue to do so) suffered from racial discrimination by their non-Roma neighbors, both Muslim and Christian.

            In the past there have been other ethnic elements that have since disappeared due to extermination, expulsion or assimilation into one of the more dominant Muslim groups. For instance there were large numbers of Greek-speaking Muslims in Macedonia, Crete and in the various regions of Greece up until the turn of the twentieth century. One also can find the descendants of Circassian and Tatar refugees still living in Kosova and Bulgaria though they have been relatively assimilated into the Albanian or Turkish populations amongst whom they live.

Sufism as a means of Islamic Propagation during the Ottoman Eraas a means of Islamic Propagation during the Ottoman Eraas a means of Islamic Propagation during the Ottoman Eraas a means of Islamic Propagation during the Ottoman Era

            As with other Muslim lands, the historical role that the Sufi tariqats played in the preservation and propagation of Islam in the Balkans cannot go without notice. It can be said with all fairness that the implantation of Islamic Civilization here could not have been possible without the efforts of these Sufi shaykhs and their orders. The Sufis of the Ottoman Balkans added enormously both to the development of an Islam of the intellectual arena as well as a ‘folk’ Islam of the masses. Though now a mere shadow of a once vast manifestation, the influence of Sufism can still be felt at both the popular and academic level among the Balkan Muslim population. The extent of the impact of Sufism and its role in Balkan Islam can be seen through the number of tariqats (mystical brotherhoods) that functioned in the region over the centuries.

            The largest and most wide-spread of these tariqats were the Halveti (Khalwatiyyah) and the Bektashi. Though minimally represented at present, these two orders dominated all others during the Ottoman Era. They were followed by the Naqshibandi, Qadiri and Rifa`i in size and distribution. All three of these tariqats have managed to survive to this day. Several other groups such as the Mevlevis, Bayramis, Melamis, Sa’dis, Jelvetis, Shazilis and Bedevis, appeared during various intervals of the Ottoman period but have since ceased to exist.

            Though the overwhelming majority of Sufis in the Balkans are associated with the Ottomans, the one of the first Sufis to have come into the area was the Bektashi saint Sari Saltik. Though most of the exact details of his life are clouded by legend, this fourteenth century Sufi traveled throughout the region decades well in advance of the Ottoman armies. His maqams (shrines) can be today found in any number of places including Bosnia (Blagaj), Romania (Babadağ), Macedonia (near Ohrid) and the most famous in Albania (Kruja).            

            As the Ottoman Empire extended its rule into the southeastern Europe during the 15th and 16th centuries, the dervishes of various tariqats followed in its wake. These early Sufis often established zawiyas or hospices that served not only as symbols of Ottoman authority over a newly conquered region but as bases for the diffusion of Islam among the local people. Two of these distinguished hospices were established in the Bosnian city of Sarajevo immediately after the conquest of the area in 1463. Both of these were built through grants made by local Ottoman notables and administered by members of the Naqshibandi Order. Later, as imperial administration became more entrenched and the Islamic religious establishment more present, tekkes were built to cater to the spiritual needs of the dervishes and local populations.

            The first Ottoman Sufis tended to be primarily from among the Naqshibandis and their known centers during this time were established in Bosnia and Macedonia. Announcedly tied to the Sunni ‘ulama, the Naqshibandi were in the vanguard of securing “orthodox” Islam in Bosnia-Hercegovina and the urban centers of the Balkans. There were, in fact, three distinct waves of Naqshibandi implantation into the Balkans during the Ottoman period. The earliest phase of implantation was made through the shaykhs who were the direct representatives (khalifahs) of Khwajah Ubaydullah Ahrar. Notable among these were Mulla Abdullah Ilahi (d.1491), who settled in Serres (Greece) and Shaykh Lutfullah, who established an early Naqshibandi tekke in Skopje. It is also probable that the earliest Naqshibandi teachers in Bosnia (namely Uyran Dede and Temsi Dede) had affiliation with the two previously mentioned shaykhs.

            In the late 18th century, the Naqshibandi Order in Bosnia was revived (after having been eclipsed for nearly a century by the Halvetis) by the work of Abdurahman Sirri Dede (d.1847) who was a follower of the Mujaddidi branch that was founded by Ahmad Sirhindi. Sirri Dede and his disciples turned central Bosnia into a Naqshibandi stronghold and their descendants still run fully functional tekkes up to this day.  The third surge of the spread of the Naqshibandi into the Balkans came short after the second. In the late 19th century the Khalidi branch that was established by Khalid al-Baghdadi made its way into central Bosnia as well as parts of Kosova and Macedonia. Here too does this branch continue to function (though to a very limited extent presently in Kosova and Macedonia).

            During the early decades of the 16th century, having become firmly entrenched in Istanbul and among the Ottoman ruling class, the shaykhs of the various Halveti branches sent out their deputies to various points in the Balkans. Theirs was an order wide spread and popular, that had literally hundreds of tekkes established in nearly every region of the peninsula. The Gültenis had a very early presence in southern Albania and Epirus and the Jemalis established important bases in the cities of Sofia (Bulgaria) and Uzica (Serbia) from which the order further spread into Bosnia and on into Ottoman Hungary. Also present were the Sinanis and Sünbülis who had tekkes in various cities from Sarajevo to Niš to Skopje to Athens. Later, in the 17th century, a new wave of Halveti implantation occurred as the new branches of the Jerrahis, Karabatis and Hayatis came into fore. These three sub-orders eventually surpassed the older branches and came to dominate the Halveti presence in Albania, Kosova and Macedonia, where two of them (the Hayatis and the Karabatis) still function to a much reduced extent today. The Jerrahi sub-Order played a significant role in the re-establishment of Muslim life in the Morea and later in Bulgaria. A reformist minded sub-order of the Halvetis, the Tabanis spread into Bosnia and Bulgaria during the mid-19th century and met with considerable but short-lived success. 

            Like the Naqshibandi, the Halveti were propagators and defenders of Sunni Islam. Many of the top ranking Balkan ‘ulama of this period were shaykhs of this order. The eminent Balkan Muslim theologian of Sofia, Bulgaria, Sofyalı Bali Efendi (d.1553) along with other Halveti shaykhs took an active role in combating the spread of non-orthodox ideas and groups (such as the Hamzevi movement in Bosnia, the Bedreddinists and Kizilbat of Bulgaria, and to some extent even the Bektashis) that had taken root among certain elements of the Muslim and neo-Muslim populations.          

The Bektashi Order, which had long been associated with the Ottoman military establishment, had during the 15th and 16th centuries only limited appeal in the Muslim populations of the region. The early center for Bektashi activity in the Balkans was the tekke at Kızıl Deli in Thrace. It was here that the second founder of the tariqat, Balim Sultan (d.1516) sent several of his disciples out to the Balkans. Though details on the activities of these early Bektashi shaykhs is difficult to uncover, the tombs of several of them stand today in Macedonia (Sersem Ali Baba in Tetova), Bulgaria (Demir Baba near Razgrad) and Albania (in and around Kruja). It was not until the 17th century that the Bektashi began to make headway in its spread into the Balkans primarily as a result of the destruction by Ottoman authorities (then under the influence of the anti-Sufi Kadizade movement) of the main tekke at Kızıl Deli  and the subsequent dispersal of its dervishes.

            The Bektashi Order formed the “left” end of the Sufi spectrum in the Balkans. Avowedly Shi’ah (and often antinomian) in outlook, their shaykhs (known as babas) were able to gain sway over rural areas and villages throughout Greece, southern Albania and Macedonia, as their toleration and ability to absorb local custom provided this element of the population with a “folk” Islam that they could easily relate to. Likewise, the Kızılbaş of Bulgaria (who are the progeny of extremist Shi’ah Turkoman tribes who were deported from Anatolia and settled in Bulgaria by the Ottomans following their conflicts with the Safavids) quickly and easily assimilated many Bektashi saints and practices into their own religious doctrines (for reasons that are beyond the scope of this paper to discuss).

            In other areas of the Balkans, such as Bosnia-Hercegovina and in large urban centers (in both where their functioning was limited due the strength of the orthodox Sunni establishment), the Bektashi found restricted appeal and were limited in operation to the Janissary garrisons.   These tekkes were established as a result of the Ottoman military presence and disappeared as that crumbled. Several of the more renowned tekkes were found in Budapest (where the tomb of its founder, Gül Baba, still remains and is open for visitation), Eger (also in Hungary, the building of which still stands), Belgrade and Banja Luka (both of which ceased to exist long ago).

            In the 19th century, the Bektashi began to gain an immense footing in Albania and Greece, following the destruction of the Janissary Corps and the banning of the tariqat in 1826. Many Bektashi babas and dervishes fled to the remote areas of the Balkans far from the reach of the Ottoman government. During this period (especially after the order outlawing of the Bektashis was rescinded in the 1860’s), the tariqat had gained a sizeable presence in southern Albania. It was even remarked by one English traveler in the area during the late-19th that were as only one out of ten Albanians north of Tirana followed the Bektashi Order, in the south it was the exact reverse, with nine out of ten Muslims affiliated with the tarikat! By the end of Ottoman rule in 1912, there were nearly one hundred Bektashi tekkes in the Albanian populated lands of the central and western Balkans.

            At the beginning of the 17th century, two more tariqats, the Qadiris and the Mevlevis, were to make their appearance in the Balkans, both of which were to play an important role in the Sufism in the region. The Qadiri Order began to fan out from its base in Istanbul under the initiative of Shaykh Ismail Rumi (d.1631). By the 1660’s Qadiri tekkes could be found in Prizren (the Kurila Tekke of Shaykh Hasan Horasani), Berat (the Sheh Ahmet tekke), Skopje (Aldi Sultan Tekke), Sarajevo (the Had_i Sinan Tekke), Gasoutni (the tekke of Delikli Baba) and other major urban areas. The Qadiri tarikat became entrenched in Bosnia due to the work of the distinguished shaykh Hasan Kaimi Baba (d.1691). This prolific writer directed at least two Qadiri tekkes in the city of Sarajevo, before his outspoken involvement of local politics led to his expulsion from the city.

            The Qadiri Order continued to function throughout the Ottoman era and it received a further boost in its activities at the end of the 19th century. During this period two notable shaykhs, Mehmed Sezai and Hajji Kadri (both Albanians and well-educated ‘ulama) rejuvenated the order in Kosova, Bosnia and to a lesser extent Macedonia after their return from studying shari’ah in Istanbul.  Hajji Kadri (d.1936), who received his ijazah in the Qadiri tarikat from the famous Turkish shaykh Mehmed Emin Tarsusi, established a well-organized network of deputies throughout the region from Travnik in Bosnia to Peshkopi in eastern Albania.

            As the Qadiris made their entrance into the Balkan Peninsula, so did the order founded by the great mystic Jalaluddin Rumi. In a short space of fifty years the Mevlevis were able to establish noticeable tekkes in Plovdiv, Serres, Salonika, Elbasan, Skopje, Belgrad, Pécs (in Hungary) and Sarajevo. Due to the highly sophisticated outlook of the order, its appeal was generally restricted to the cities and to the educated elite. During the Ottoman era, scores of Balkan Mevlevis ranked among the finest literati of the empire. Such figures as Habib Dede (d.1643), Fevzi Mostarac (d.1707) and Fazil Pata Šerifovic (d.1882) left their indelible mark on Ottoman religious literature.

            However, due to the limited attraction of the order and its elaborate ceremonies, which required considerable practice, the Mevlevis soon vanished from the Balkans once the Ottoman Empire left the region and the main center of Konya was later closed by Atatürk. The last functioning Mevlevi establishment in the Balkans was located in the city of Skopje. It was demolished in the 1950’s after its last shaykh, Hakki Dede left for Turkey.

            During the Ottoman era, several smaller tariqats gained establishment on a much smaller scale. The Bayrami Order of Hajji Bayram Veli  (d.1430) built tekkes in scattered locations throughout the Balkans, such as Skopje in Macedonia, Sofia in Bulgaria and Shkodra in northern Albania. Two of the branches of the Bayrami tariqat, the Jelveti and the Melami had comparable success. Only the later received considerable success in Kosova and Macedonia in the late 19th century thanks to the efforts of the Egyptian born shaykh Muhammad Nur ul-`Arabi (d.1897). He gained considerable a following in the region due to his charismatic appeal.

            A much earlier offshoot of the Bayrami-Melami fraternity, the Hamzevi was established by a Bosnian shaykh, Hamza Baliya (d.1573). Through his preaching an extremely heterodox interpretation of Islam (which was undoubtedly influenced by Hurufi and Ismaili doctrines) he gained a popular following all along the Drina River valley in eastern Bosnia. The order caused much alarm among the Sunni religious establishment and the ‘ulama of the Balkans (who were nearly all affiliated with the Naqshibandi and Halveti orders) came out in adamant opposition to the Hamzevis. Finally, Hamza Baliya’s open criticism of the state caused alarm from the Ottoman government.  Following the issuance of fatwas, he was arrested in Bosnia, brought to Istanbul to stand trial and executed. His followers were suppressed and forced underground while Hamzevi leaders executed or exiled. Decades later, the Hamzevi Order came out from hiding, but had by then moderated some of their original heterodox teachings.

            The Sa’di Order founded by Shaykh Sadeddin Jibawi (d.1330), first came into the Balkans in the late 17th century through the efforts of Adzizi Baba, a native of  northern Albania. He established a main tekke in Prizren and the tarikat spread further into Albania and Kosova. The Sa’di Order still today plays a considerable role in these areas. Another order of Arab origin, the Rifa’is, came into the region in two waves; the first in the late 1700’s was limited to Macedonia and Bulgaria and was implanted through the efforts of several Arab shaykhs, and the second, which occurred in the late 19th century, that securely established the order as a significant force in Balkan Sufism. This imbedding of the Rifa’i into modern Balkan Muslim life was a result of the work of Shaykh Musa Muslihuddin of Kosova (d. 1917). He built up a strong network of disciples and tekkes in Kosova and northern Albania. Like the Qadiri shaykh Hajji Kadri, Shaykh Musa had close contact with the Muslims of Bosnia and even established a small Rifa’i group in Sarajevo. Two other Arab tarikats, the Shazeli and Bedevi remained restricted to one or two tekkes in Kosova and Bulgaria and they have all but disappeared from the region, although a Qadiri-Bedevi branch does function to this day in Sarajevo under the leadership of Shaykh Zakir Bekitc.

            During the Ottoman period Sufism in the Balkans can be seen to have several currents that gave it its character. First was that most of the shaykhs of the staunchly Sunni orders of the Halvetis, Naqshibandis, and Qadiris were members of the ulema. The numerous shaykhs who had brought these orders into the region had been for the most part educated in the important Islamic theological institutions in Istanbul, Baghdad, Cairo, Damascus and Madinah. Many of these shaykhs and their disciples were functionaries in the Sunni religious hierarchy that upheld the Ottoman State. This may have given a few of these orders an elitist tint. The many members of these tarikats (especially the Mevlevis and Bektashis) were prolific writers of prose and theology who wrote not only in Arabic, Persian and Ottoman but also in the vernacular. For instance Shaykh Umar Kashari al-Qadiri developed the first Albanian-Turkish lexicon in 1804. Such figures in Balkan Sufism were ranked among the most scholarly and intellectual in the Muslim World at that time.

            For the average Muslim citizen of the Balkan provinces of the empire the appeal of certain tariqats depended on the social surroundings in which they lived. In the urban centers of Greece, Bulgaria, Macedonia and Serbia (that were primarily Turkish speaking) the Halvetis, Rifais and Qadiris proved to be easily accessible to those who desired to pursue a spiritual path. The vociferous and physically intense zikrs of these orders definitely held some attraction to the masses as opposed to the more somber practices of the Naqshibandi and the highly intellectual philosophies of the Mevlevis. These three tarkiats also remained inside the general Sunni worldview (unlike the Bektashis for instance) which made them free of social stigmatization.

            In rural areas, often far removed from the educational institutions of the religious establishment, the orders that were the widest spread tended to have had heterodox and syncretistic teachings. Here, in order to facilitate an easy transition from Christianity to Islam, the people often kept elements of their old ways (which were often of pre-Christian in origin themselves). For instance, the Hamzevis found considerable appeal along the very rural districts of the Drina River valley in the 16th century shortly after the population of the area had converted to Islam. The 14th century religio-political movement of Shaykh Beddruddin Simavi (if it can be defined as a Sufi tariqat) was confined to the wilds of the Bulgarian backcountry. Both of these movements were crushed by the Ottoman government, but many of their ideas are believed to have filtered into the Bektashi Order, the Sufi order that held enormous influence over large parts of the rustic Balkans.

The Situation of Sufism in the post-Ottoman Balkans

            The decline of the Sufi Orders in the Balkans of course mirrored the general collapse of Ottoman rule in the area. The first lands to go were the Danubian provinces of Hungary and Slavonia that had by the early part of the 18th century been completely cleaned of its Muslim population. The Sufism that had once been a vibrant part of the Islamic presence in these areas vanished during this holocaust. In the formerly Muslim regions of Serbia, Greece and Bulgaria, traces of these Ottoman institutions no longer survive due to the virulent eradication policies of Orthodox Christian chauvinism.

            The end of Ottoman rule in Bosnia-Hercegovina in 1878 did not spell the end of Sufism in the area. Though greatly affected by a mass migration of a considerable portion of the Muslim population out of the province, several new Sufi shaykhs managed to establish new centers of influence in Bosnia. For instance, the Naqshibandi-Khalidi Order was introduced into central Bosnia by Mufti Shaykh Husnija Numanagic (d.1931) and the Halveti-Sabanis of Shaykh Sejfudin Iblizovic (d.1889) opened tekkes in the northeastern parts of the country. During the Austro-Hugarian occupation, Sufis were allowed to maintain their contacts with their brethren elsewhere in the Muslim World. An example of this was the visitation of the two most important Kosovar shaykhs of the time, Hajji Kadri and Musa Muslihudin. These two men traveled to Hapsburg Bosnia and met with local Sufis there. Likewise the Bektashi Babas of Kosova were in regular contact with the small community of Albanian Bektashis that resided in Sarajevo.

            This situation remained as so during the years of the first Yugoslav state (1918-1941). However the continued migration of many Muslims from Bosnia led to the rapid decline of several orders. By the 1930’s the Halvetis had all but disappeared in Bosnia-Hercegovina and by the end of WWII there was not a single one of their tekkes in operation. Though both the Naqshibandis and Qadiris continued their operation, they were limited in reach to the solidly Muslim areas of central Bosnia. Following the end of WWII and the establishment of communist rule over Yugoslavia, a period of general decline marked the Sufi Orders. In 1952 all tariqat activities were banned, not as might be though by the communist government, but by the modernist minded `ulama of the government sanctioned Islamic Community, who saw the orders and their shaykhs as a remnant of archaic superstition and innovation. As a result all tekkes were officially closed in Bosnia-Hercegovina, but they continued to function in Kosova and Macedonia simply because there the shaykhs’ residences were often the tekke itself.

            This ban remained in place until the early 1970’s when thanks to the efforts of several prominent scholars in the Muslim community, notably the Qadiri-Mevlevi shaykh and imam Fejzulah Hadzibajric (d.1990) and the Rifa’i shaykh of Prizren, Xhemali Shehu (b.1926), made a successful move to revitalize Sufism in Yugoslavia. In 1974 the Community of Islamic Dervish Orders of the SFRY (ZIDRA) was formed as an umbrella organization to promote tasawwuf. With this organization in place, the restrictions on dervish activities in Bosnia-Hercegovina were disregarded.

            During the wars that racked Yugoslavia between 1991-1995, the Sufi Orders and their followers played an active role in the defense of the Muslim community against the might of Serb and Croat aggression. Shaykhs of both the Naqshibandi and Qadiri tariqats had their dervishes formed into fighting units that took to the fronts notably in central Bosnian and along the Brcko corridor. The current situation for Sufism in Bosnia-Hercegovina is bright. Never having had the stigma of heresy attached to it, Sufism is accepted overall by both the religious establishment (many of whose members are openly involved in the orders) and the laity. Except for the Wahhabi presence that has now invaded Bosnia thanks to missionaries of the sect from Arab countries, the legitimacy of Islamic mysticism was never in question both during the Ottoman period and at the present.

            In Kosova, the post-Ottoman situation resembled that of Bosnia. With the exception of the Serb terror of 1912-13 and the 1952 ban, Sufism continued to flourish unabated.  Though certain orders disappeared by WWII (such as the Mevlevis), others actually grew in influence. During the 1970’s the Rifa’is came to dominate the spiritual scene in the former Yugoslavia due to the inexhaustible efforts of Shaykh Xhemali Shehu of the Prizren tekke. Other surviving orders in Kosova included the Sa’dis, Qadiris and the Halveti-Karabatis. The Bektashi also had a modest tekke in the town of Gjakova in an otherwise sea of Kosovar Sunnism. It is unkown as to the extent of damage the Serb genocide of Albanians in Kosova has affected these Sufi institutions. In the summer of 1998, the beloved 76 year-old shaykh of the Karabatis of Orahovac, Muhedin Shehu, was shot dead by Serb para-militaries.

            In the area of Macedonia, the tariqats suffered tremendously from the constant migration of the Muslim population to Turkey. By the 1930’s many tekkes in the once Turkish dominated regions of central and eastern Macedonia stood abandoned as a result of these population shifts. Today one can still find the turbes of shaykhs that still exist in areas where Muslims no longer form an element of the demographic make-up. Often the local Macedonian Christian population gives these sights considerable veneration. The tariqat that suffered the most from this decline was the Halveti, which was represented in Macedonia in its Sinani, Hayati and Jerrahi branches. Of these only the Hayati remains functioning today in the Albanian regions of western Macedonia. The Rifa’is (of a different branch than those of Kosova) and Sa’dis continue to operate through out the region and are at this time dominated by Roma (Gypsies). The Bektashi also have small communities in the Albanian towns of Gostivar, Kicevo and Tetova as well among the Turkish-speaking communities of Kanatlar and Strumica.

            Elsewhere in the post-Ottoman Balkans, the activities of the tariqats is virtually non-existant. In Albania, the largest orders were the Bektashis and the Halvetis, but the Tijanis, Rifa’is, Qadiris and Sa’dis also had a presence. The Bektashi played a prominent role in the inter-war years and the headquarters of the tariqat was moved from Anatolia to Tirana following Atatürk’s abolition of the Sufi Orders. There was a formation of an umbrella organization of Sunni Sufi orders in the 1930’s known as the Drita Hynorë (Heavenly Light) which was formed by the Tijanis, Rifa’is and Qadiris. The Halveti branches likewise formed the Kryesia e Sektë Alevijanë (The Center of the Alevi Sect) which organized yearly conferences and gatherings.

            In the 1950’s severe restrictions were placed on the Sufi Orders (and religion in general) and all of them were officially detached from the Sunni mainstream by the communist government. Each order was recognized as a “religion” on to itself in an attempt by the government to divide and rule. Finally in 1967, dictator Enver Hoxha declared all religious belief anathema and outlawed it altogether. Scores of clergy from all faiths were executed imprisoned or forced into hiding. Despite these draconian measures many families kept the Sufi traditions alive in secret and those shaykhs who went underground continued to teach even with the knowledge of what would occur if caught.

            By the time the ban on religion was rescinded in Albanian in 1991, only the Bektashis and the Halvetis had shaykhs who were still alive. The later made attempts to re-establish itself in the country under the leadership of Shaykh Muammar Pazari and the Halveti Order now holds a meager place in Albanian Sufism. The Bektashis found considerably more fortune in re-organizing themselves. The headquarters of the tariqat was returned by the government (it was a home for the elderly in communist times) and the few remaining babas set about teaching once more. The Bektashi Order managed to recruit dervishes from among the young and it issues a monthly magazine Urtësia. The current head of the order, the dedebaba, is the elderly Reshat Bardhy. The Rifa’I have also managed to re-establish its presence in the country. Through the work of Shaykh Xhemali of Prizren the order has constructed tekkes in Tirana, Shkodra and Berat. Likewise, the Tijani has a well-felt presence among the higher Sunni clergy, including the current grand-mufti, Hafiz Sabri Koçi.

            Little is know at this time of the situation of the tariqats in Bulgaria, whose Muslim community suffered through a terrible pogrom during the 1980’s. In the pre-WWII period, the Halvetis, Bektashis, Naqshibandis, Shazilis, Qadiris and Mevlevis existed but few survived the communist led assimilation campaign. However, Muslims still visit the graves of various saints, which points to some form of survival. In Greece, there is some lingering Bektashi communities among the Turks of Western Thrace.

Balkan Sufism beyond

            It is important to note that the first Sufi lodge to be established in North America was the First American Albanian Bektashi Monastery. This center was founded in the early 1950's by Baba Rexhep (d.1995), native of the southern Albanian town of Gjrokaster. This remarkable figure managed to preserve the Bektashi identity of many Albanian Muslims despite the pressures from the anti-religious programs of his native land and the pull of assimilation in the United States. Over the decades the tekke (which is located outside of Detroit) expanded in size and membership. Following the death of Baba Rexhep, the tekke is now under the directorship of Baba Flamur Shkala, a very energetic and young shaykh who will hopefully serve his community well.

            In the late 1970’s the Rifa’i Order made its first presence in the United States with the establishment of a modest center in the Washington D.C. are by Dr. Asaf Durakovic, who was a khalifah of both Shaykh Xhemali of Prizren and the Halveti-Hayati branch of Macedonia. The Rifa’i Order subsequently expanded in the 1980’s and 1990’s to include centers in New York, Staten Island, Toronto, Cleveland and most recently in Chicago. In fact, due to the genocidal warfare being conducted by the Serbs in Kosova, Shaykh Xhemali Shehu has taken up residence in the United States.

            Also it is important to note the activity of two non-Balkan Sufi Orders into the region. The Halveti-Jerrahis (who had historically been present in the southern Balkans), began a program to assist Bosnian students achieve higher education in the United States. A history of the order translated into Bosnian may help establish its presence in the area. The Naqshibandi-Haqqani Order of Shaykh Nazim has also began to take root in Bosnia and Albania where his writings have been popularly received.

            Situation of Sufism in the post-Ottoman BalkansSituation of Sufism in the post-Ottoman BalkansSituation of Sufism in the post-Ottoman Balkans

(SHRINE PILGRIMAGE IN TURKMENISTAN     (part2

 
 
 AS A MEANS TO UNDERSTAND ISLAM AMONG THE TURKMEN

by David Tyson (No.1, 1997)
 
Examples of Holy Sities in Turkmenistan and Activities Associated
 
 
with them


Paraw Bibi: This site is one of the most impressive. It is located in western Turkmenistan approximately 20 kilometers northwest of Gïzïlarbat in the village of Paraw. The actual shrine is set some 100 meters up a rocky mountainside overlooking the village and consists of a white mausoleum-like structure (described in historical sources as a mosque). Next to the shrine is an adjoining chamber with an outside entrance. At the foot of the mountain is a large one-story building which serves as a guest house (mïhmanhana, mïhman jayï). A roofed platform (bassïrma) located nearby the guest house serves as a place where pilgrims congregate and have meals.
Near the guest house and adjacent to the village are the remains of the town Ferava/Afraw dating from the ninth century. Sources (Materialy po istorii turkmen i turkmenii 1939: 176, 201) indicate that the town originated as an Arab border fortress (rabat) directed against the Oghuz and developed into an important town on the road leading to Khorezm. Among the ruins of the town are the remains of a shrine-mausoleum to a Paraw Ata dating from the twelfth century.
Turkmen anti-religious specialists such as Ataev (1989) note that the mountain shrine has long been active and considered it an important shrine contributing to harmful beliefs among the population. According to legends recorded in Soviet literature, Paraw Bibi was a beautiful and virtuous maiden who was the object of jealousy of many women. During a period of infidel military threat a jealous woman wanted to turn Paraw Bibi over to the invaders in exchange for promises from the enemy not to carry out the attack. Upon hearing this, Paraw Bibi cursed the woman causing her to turn into black stone. Soon thereafter, while on the mountainside, Paraw Bibi saw the enemy party approaching. With this she realized the hopelessness of her situation and ordered the mountain to split open so that she might enter into it, thus preserving her purity and virtue. After the miraculous event the locals were commanded by God to build a shrine to Paraw Bibi at the site where she opened the mountain. They believed, because of her bravery and refusal to submit, Paraw Bibi was a true hero (batïr) who had been blessed by the holy breath of the prophets.
Ataev also describes how, in the final decades of the Soviet era, pilgrims came from all over western Turkmenistan to the shrine seeking fertility and a cure for insanity. He also writes that in and around the complex were many "miracle working" stones and impressions of Paraw Bibi's hands and knees left in stone. One stone is said to be a watermelon that Paraw Bibi had been about to eat. According to legend, at the moment when Paraw Bibi was to cut the melon the enemies attacked and thus she threw it down in haste. At that moment it turned into stone. Ataev notes that a watermelon-shaped stone said to be that same stone from the time of Paraw Bibi was used by pilgrims as a "detector of sin." It was placed on the thumbs of two people; if the stone rotates no sin had been committed by those balancing it.
While visiting the shrine in April 1995 we filmed the site, rites being performed, and interviewed numerous pilgrims. We were struck by the large number of visitors (approximately 100 in the course of an hour) at the complex and by the intense activity and rather festive atmosphere. While there were male visitors, the majority of those present were girls and young women (ages 5 - 30). As numerous young women explained, Paraw Bibijan[25] was a beautiful maiden whose virtue, purity, and courage were unmatched. Furthermore, she was a devout Muslim who never failed to perform her Islamic duties. In the moments when attack[26] was imminent and at great risk Paraw Bibi performed her prayers; and due to her "burning with faith" she left behind the impressions of her knees and hands in the rock. They also told of the legend of the melon and demonstrated how "stones from the time of Paraw Bibi" or "stones seen by Paraw Bibi" may be used in predicting the future and detecting sin. Inside the shrine itself we met with several mothers (with their infant children) and young women who showed us the many dozens of votive offerings brought by visitors, including hundreds of cloth strips, miniature cradles, and large quilt curtains sewn by women hoping for children.[27] Leading out of the main chamber into the mountain is a niche-cave through which Paraw Bibi is said to have entered into the mountain and it is here where young women recite prayers to the spirit of Paraw Bibi.[28] The young women also pointed out the adjoining chamber known as Paraw Bibi's bath house to which she is said to visit each Friday to comb her hair and bathe; it too contains numerous objects and offerings. Outside the shrine, along the path, we also saw a small overhang under which Paraw Bibi is said to have hidden from the raiders for seven days; it is believed that crawling into the space will result in fertility.[29]
At the guest house and roofed picnic area located at the foot of the path leading up to the shrine, we discussed with a group of young people from the nearby town Gïzïlarbat the significance of the shrine, the personage of Paraw Bibi, and the meaning they attached to her and pilgrimage to her shrine. They explained that they were all members of the Gïzïlarbat Paraw Bibi Youth Club. They had chosen Paraw Bibi as the club's namesake because she "is an example for all young Muslim women to follow" as her bravery and steadfast conviction in the face of death coupled with her purity, honor, and unwavering performance of Islamic duties make her worthy of emulation. Some of the club's mentors included older women who told of how pilgrimage to the site was constant in the Soviet era in spite of the possible punishments. They explained that they understood such pilgrimage to have even more significance now and to be a sort of patriotic duty in this era of freedom and independence.
Elements of the legend of Paraw Bibi are evident in other legends concerning numerous other "Turkmen" saints and heroines and are not limited to one specific region. The transformation of a melon into stone at the moment when one is about to cut it and at the moment when the hero(ine) catches sight of an approaching enemy, the splitting of rock by and the disappearance of the heroine into a mountainside or cave never to return, as well as the indentations and impressions left in rock by the hero are all fairly common to legends concerning figures associated with holy sites. The sites of these types of saints generally lack a tomb or burial place and thus are atypical öwlüyä; consequently there are no cemeteries. Furthermore, the figures to whom the sites are dedicated are usually ahistorical and are placed in a mythical setting where the struggle between Islam and non-Islamic forces are simplified and clearly discerned.
Khoja Yusup Baba (Hemedanï) is a large complex located in southeastern Turkmenistan near the city of Bairam Alï and on the territory of the ancient city-state of Merv. The shrine complex contains basic features that make it not unlike other saints' shrines in the Islamic world.
Khoja Yusuf Hamadani is a well known figure in Islamic history and is credited as the first in a line of Sufi masters from which evolved the Naqshbandi and Yasavi lineages, the two most important Sufi traditions in Central Asia. Accounts portray Hamadani as an exemplary Muslim, pious and unpretentious, devoted to Islamic scholarship and deeply inspired in his work of propagating Islam (Algar 1976: 131-132; Zhukovskii 1894: 169-173). He was well traveled but was most active in Mawarannahr (Transoxiana) and Khorasan. After his death (1140), his body was interred in Merv, presumably at the site carrying his name.
In the Soviet period the mosque at Khoja Yusup Baba was designated as one of the four official-legal mosques in all of Turkmenistan. The site had also long been declared an official architectural monument. These designations entailed the constant presence of state officials, informants, tourists, scholars and restorators. In spite of Soviet efforts to tightly control and co-opt it, anti-religious activists continuously noted the complex's very negative influence among the population. Popular belief asserted that two pilgrimages to Khoja Yusup Baba would equal one to Mecca. Demidov (1978: 154) noted that the shrine had a caretaker-imam, Atanepes Ishan, who had "no religious training."
In three trips to the shrine (1993-1995) I met on each occasion a man born and raised in the northeastern province of Dashhowuz who had come on a pilgrimage to the shrine several years before and stayed on as the caretaker-imam after he was made well by the power and miracles (gudrat we keramat) of Khoja Yusup Baba. He was a laborer and farmer by trade who had learned most of what he knew about Islam from pilgrims visiting during his tenure at the site. He had learned, for example, the Arabic script, how to pray, and conduct the various ceremonies and blessings connected with visitation by groups of pilgrims. The site consisted of recently restored buildings: a mosque, large guest house, a cooking and eating area, a roofed but open tomb, and a group of smaller adjoining rooms and small buildings used for specific purposes (meditation; for those seeking a cure for physical ailments; for young brides desiring fertility; and for those having mental disorders).
The caretaker was overjoyed at my visits and especially happy to find out that I knew a little of the history of Khoja Yusup Baba and that it coincided with what he had heard.[30] During all my visits I also saw large groups of pilgrims, who in many cases had been bused in from neighboring villages. From what I observed, a group pilgrimage could last several hours to one or two days. The visitors brought the food and the animals to be slaughtered. After greeting, the caretaker offered an initial blessing and the group broke up with women and children going to the tomb or off to prepare the lodging and cooking areas. Many of the men, on the other hand, went to sit together with the caretaker. Others saw to the livestock to be slaughtered. Some individuals, both men and women, went in the guest house to rest and sleep. The guest house was well maintained and had enough bedding, plates and utensils, and cradles to accommodate dozens of visitors.[31]
Actual pilgrimage to the tomb itself was usually done in small groups and consisted of circumambulating (from right to left) the wall surrounding the tomb three times. During the trips around the tomb, most of the people would repeatedly touch the wall with both hands and bring their hands to their face. Some would kiss the wall. After everyone completed the circling, the caretaker would come over next to the group at the tomb. There they would squat while the caretaker recited a blessing. Upon the completion of the blessing individuals gave the caretaker offerings of money. While most of the visitors then would go back to the guest house area to make preparations for the meal, others went off to other parts of the complex. Around the complex is a large cemetery and running throughout it, behind the complex, are narrow foot paths. It was common for women especially to go along these paths to a well said to contain holy medicinal water. Aside from drinking the water, the women would tie on small strips of cloth on to the branches of the bushes or small trees that lined the paths leading to the well. As pilgrims explained, the strips (sometimes called älem)[32] signify one's prayer or wish to the saint. Aside from attaching strips of cloth, many pilgrims also set up two old bricks on the ground in the form of an upside-down "V" for similar reasons. Thus, behind the complex there are hundreds and even thousands of such "tie-ons" and brick configurations. Another commonly seen object on the ground along the path is miniature imitation cradles made from sticks and cloth. These are set up by women hoping for Khoja Yusup Baba's aid in becoming fertile.
In the complex itself individuals may visit the various rooms and areas noted above and utilize them for their specific purposes. Pilgrims explained that people with mental problems should sit in one corner room and wait for a miracle from the power of Khoja Yusup Baba. Those with sick children should go with the child to a specific area and there leave behind an article of the child's clothing or other belonging. In doing so the ailment would leave the child and remain with the object. Thus, here it is possible to see piles of infants' socks, sweaters, shirts, head coverings, combs, toys, and pacifiers. Another common practice involves the pilgrims' placing in specific places items which, after a period of time, will become blessed by the power of Khoja Yusup Baba. Numerous pilgrims offered me such "good luck charms" as gifts: combs, knives, metal objects, etc. Another commonly dispensed item was salt which is said to have been blessed by the spirit of Khoja Yusup Baba.
Baba Gambar: Some Soviet ethnographers present the figure of Baba Gambar as a clear example of how a pre-Islamic shaman deity was transformed into an Islamic saint (Basilov 1970: 55-68).[33] According to stock Islamic legend, Ganbar was the stableman of Ali and caretaker of his horse, Duldul. Among the Kyrgyz he is the patron (pir) of horse breeders while in Turkmen legends he is seen as the patron of musicians and the creator of the first dutar (traditional two-stringed instrument common to Central Asia). Versions of the legend current in Turkmenistan describe the devil as helping Gambar in the creation of the dutar and affirm its music was so sweet that it caused animals fall in a state of melancholy and stop eating. When Duldul appears to Ali to be ill and underfed, Ali questions Gambar but Gambar evades answering. Later Ali spies Gambar playing the dutar to a saddened Duldul. Ali confronts Gambar; upon this Gambar commands the earth to swallow him up and flees underground to Mecca and Medina saying that the two will meet on judgment day.[34]
There is more than one shrine to Baba Gambar in Central Asia. The largest and most widely known is located in southeastern Turkmenistan near the Murgap river some 120 kilometers south of Marï (ancient Merv). While there is a tomb located in the shrine, some elder Turkmen claim that he is not buried at the site and that he in fact never died. They explain that the site is the place where he entered into the earth. Soviet-era sources tell us that the site was very active in the Soviet period and that its major significance had to do with the fact that budding musicians (bagshï) came to the site to spend prolonged periods in order to receive a blessing (pata) from Baba Gambar and with it the necessary musical skills.
During our visit in 1995 we saw that aside from the shrine-mausoleum itself the site consisted of a chile agach (see below) and a tree in a fenced off plot said to be unique in that its leaves are in the shape of dutar tuning pegs. It was also claimed that the tree grew from Baba Gambar's original dutar and that its roots led to the underground passageway through which Baba Gambar fled. A large cemetery surrounds the shrine and across a nearby stream is a large guest house and sitting area where musicians practice and play the dutar. The pilgrims on the day of our visit had come from Marï and they explained that they often come to relax and congregate with other musicians. They also said that young musicians still come to receive Baba Gambar's blessing and that accomplished players make the pilgrimage to perform for inspiration and in honor of their patron.
Hazret(i) Alï: This site is located some dozen kilometers southwest of Ashgabat near the village of Bagïr and the archeological site of Nusai (Nisa), the ancient capital of the Parthian state. Demidov (1988: 93-94) writes that in local accounts residents of Nisa conducted mass prayers at the site (before the coming of Islam). I visited this holy place numerous times during 1993-1995. It is located on a sloping plain at the foothills of the Kopetdag and consists of a small clay mosque, a tomb-shrine,[35] a burial plot with no structure, and a guest house. Integral to the site as well are several small boulders. The small mosque, referred to as namazga (place of prayer), is considered a place where Ali prayed when he was in the region propagating Islam. Impressions in the rocks and boulders at the site are said to have come from Ali's hands and from the hooves of his horse, Duldul. On one larger boulder, where pilgrims believe Ali lay and rested, is an indentation loosely fitting the form left by someone in a fetal-like position.
One object that is part of the complex and a standard element of holy sites in specific areas of Turkmenistan is the chile agach or chile agajï (tree of the chile).[36] Throughout Central Asia the concept of chilla/chille/chile signifies a specific forty-day period connected with various events and periods of the year.[37] Demidov, citing this tradition, describes the chile as an ancient concept which manifests itself as negative force after one breaks a taboo concerning new mothers or the care for newborns (under forty days old). Inappropriate behavior in this period thus may result in sickness for the child or mother.[38]
While the chile agach at some holy sights may actually be a tree[39], the majority of chile agach we saw were constructed out of wood (planks, dried out pieces of trees, etc.) and took the form of either a large tripod, post-like structure with an overhang, or a sort of doorway-threshold. In some cases they were large and easily passed through; others were constructed low to the ground and one would have to crawl in order to pass. While details concerning the power and purpose of the chile agach differed according to site and informant, central to all accounts was its ability to promote fertility and rid individuals of ailments and sickness, especially those affecting very young children and new mothers. Another feature offered by the chile agach was its protection (for babies) from the evil eye and other negative forces. Thus young mothers would pass through the structure carrying their infants as both healing and preventive measure. Attached to these pieces of wood one can find multitudes of the cloth tie-on strips, articles of clothing, and toys. As in the case of specific rooms at the Hemedanï complex, it is believed that an ailment will remain with the object left on the chile agach.
A middle-aged woman who lives in the village nearby and who comes to Hazret Alï on a regular basis to take care of the site and facilitate pilgrimage graciously showed us around, explained some of the rituals and the significance of some of the objects, and introduced us to a family of Turkmen pilgrims. It turned out that the family was from Ashgabat and that they had long been making visits to the site. Two of the family members, teenage daughters, explained that they hoped that the visit would assist them to enter into the city's pedagogical institute. All the members stressed that visits to the site resulted in better health and the easing of other problems and pressures.
On one of my visits to Hazret Alï I met a lone young Kurdish man who explained that he was having trouble in life and was trying to "find his place." He had been at the site for three days and planned to stay several more until he felt better. He mentioned that he had visited the site since childhood and knew of its benefit to the body and soul. He said that during his visits he spent much of the time resting and praying in the namazga. He said he also made a point to circumambulate around the burial sites and chile agach, as well as lie in the impression left by Ali.
Khoja Älem Baba is an excellent example of a typical small "local" öwlüyä that apparently serves the population of one specific collective farm village (clan lineage).[40] Located not far from the Kopetdag Mountains near the town Kaka (some 130 kilometers east and south of Ashgabat), Khoja Älem Baba is the gonambashï of the village cemetery and undoubtedly attained such status, in part, because of his being of an öwlat lineage.[41] The tomb is housed in a clay mausoleum consisting of two chambers: an entrance way or sitting area and the tomb chamber. The tomb itself and its chamber are adorned with dozens of objects; apparently these items consist of both votive offerings and objects considered to be connected with Khoja Älem Baba: horns at the tomb's head, coins and paper money, metal objects, jewelry, various types of cloth and fabric draped over the tomb, stones in uncommon shapes, as well as a small wooden frame-like structure to which cloth and articles of clothing are attached. It is clear from the care given to the shrine and number of objects inside that the site is very significant to the local population and is visited on a regular basis.
While time did not permit us to speak with locals knowledgeable about the figure Khoja Älem Baba during our visit to the site in May 1995, residents of a neighboring village recalled that Khoja Älem Baba was said to have been an Arab and was considered instrumental in the local population's conversion to Islam. They also mentioned that they had never actually been to the shrine because Khoja Älem Baba "was not theirs" (i.e. not their ancestor and part of their local tradition).
Sites such as Khoja Älem Baba are evidently the most common in Turkmenistan and probably number in the hundreds and perhaps there are over a thousand. Indeed, it appears that Turkmen tradition stipulated that each community possess an öwlüyä and thus have access to the power and protection it provided. Leading Soviet ethnographers stress little more than the tradition's links to Sufism, the "cult of ancestors," and, in many cases, totemism. While the figures to which the shrines are dedicated are usually strictly local saints whose significance is limited to members of a specific locale or lineage, they typify the concept of öwlüyä as it has developed in Turkmenistan and as a whole serve the spiritual needs of the largest number of Turkmen on an every-day basis.[42]

The Special Role of the Hudaiyoli


While the rituals and practices connected with veneration and prayer are central to pilgrimage, another defining aspect of the act is the preparation of the memorial meal at the site. Among the Turkmen, like many other Muslim peoples, the concept of sadaka and kurban (offering and sacrifice) are considered exemplary Islamic practices. While both these terms are current in the Turkmen language, there is a more common term used in reference to the ceremony of the giving of a meal at shrines -- hudaiyolï ("the path of God"). Depending on the context, the hudaiyolï may signify the memorial meal and gathering conducted by individual families (in their homes) on prescribed days after a relative's death; it also may be given after the favorable outcome of a specific event: a loved-one's recovery from an illness, a son's return from the army, or a young person's graduation. All involve the inviting of friends and relatives, the slaughtering of an animal(s), and the preparation of a meal as an expression of honor for the deceased or, in the case of the successful outcome, thanks to God.[43] In the case of shrine and pilgrimage the hudaiyolï is conducted at the site in the name of the saint to whom the shrine has been erected.[44] Indeed, the standard set-up at shrines includes the guest house and a cooking area complete with hearths, cooking caldrons, and utensils. Those we interviewed explained that the hudaiyolï is usually given during a pilgrimage when one is requesting assistance from a saint or after one has conducted a pilgrimage to request a saint's intercession and assistance and the outcome had been favorable.[45] Pilgrims also noted as well that there did not have to be a specific reason and that such a meal was given simply to honor the saint and further cement the bonds between the individual or community and the saint.[46] In another case, at a large site (Ismamut Ata) in Turkmenistan's northeastern Dashhowuz province, we witnessed a mass hudaiyolï just prior to the spring (cotton) planting. As the caretaker explained, each spring on the first day of planting and each fall just prior to the harvest, members of entire state farms come on their tractors and trucks to gain the blessing of the saint in their endeavor. The meals themselves (rice pilaf -- a traditional Central Asian dish) and the actual visit are very short, usually lasting only twenty minutes to a half hour and are staggered by hour and day so to allow each state farm group to come separately.
While the meals prepared at the shrines are usually prepared by one group or party, pilgrims stress that the offering of such food to other visitors (who did not come with food) is a sogap ish (a good deed that will be rewarded by God) and results in greater blessing and sure acceptance (of the memorial meal) by the saint. It is also common for pilgrims, upon their return home, to pass out any remaining food to neighbors and relatives who did not make the trip. Aside from the idea that the food is blessed, the consuming of the food signifies that the person eating it made the pilgrimage "in his heart."

The Concept of Pilgrimage vis-a-vis the State and Official Islam


Today in an independent Turkmenistan in the midst of a cultural revival the concept of zïyarat has received official government sanction and the practice has flourished.[47] In the Turkmen media, and indeed in the opinions of many Turkmen, it is part of the larger tradition and concept known as hatïra which literally means "respect" and "honor" but is often used in a more specific sense and refers to honoring and paying respect to one's ancestors, especially victims of war, natural disasters, etc. Thus zïyarat has been officially acknowledged by Turkmenistan's president Saparmïrat Nïyazov (Türkmenbashï) as an expression of patriotism and an integral part of being Turkmen.[48] And while this recognition does not mean that all Turkmen take part in pilgrimage or give credence to the total complex of belief and behavior connected with it, the recognition reflects society's awareness that the tradition is "sacred" and part and parcel of Turkmen identity. During our visits to Turkmenistan we met numerous individuals who did not acknowledge (at least in our presence) shrines and saints as sources of power to heal, fulfill prayers, etc. Almost without exception, however, even these people displayed the accepted signs of reverence when passing a cemetery in a car or while present at a shrine. They also invariably spoke of the sites with respect and deference couching their explanation in terms of proper courtesy and "Turkmen" behavior.
As in other Islamic countries, more orthodox Islamic elements, and in this case, the state-run official Islamic establishment in Turkmenistan, may look upon the pilgrimage tradition with some consternation. Indeed, the perceived tension between "normative" and "folk" Islam supposedly evident throughout the Islamic world is known by some in Turkmenistan as well. Turkmenistan's chief religious official, however, Kazï Nasrulla ibn Ibadulla, said in our interview with him in April 1995 that the problems the people of Turkmenistan face as Muslims are very basic.[49] While acknowledging that the veneration of saints (in the place of God) and certain rituals carried out at holy sites are not condoned by Islamic teaching, the fact that many Turkmen continue to seek miracles at shrines bothers him little, in the capacity of the chief religious official, as compared with other problems his countrymen currently face. He noted that the respect and honor for one's ancestors and other elements of the zïyarat concept are sanctioned in Islam and quoted a hadith as proof. He said only after the population learns and practices basic Islamic tenets should peripheral issues such as the niceties of pilgrimage be addressed.

Conclusion


The importance of the holy-site tradition to the Muslims of Turkmenistan as it compares to other Islamic beliefs and practices may be debated. However, the role that it played in the population's adoption of and transition to Islam coupled with its significance as one of the few religious traditions that remained viable and accessible to large numbers of Turkmen in the Soviet era indicate that it is central to that which made and makes the Turkmen Muslims. That mosques and madrasas, with their accompanying "formal" functions such as providing venues to carry out Islamic duties and to acquire education and training, are critical in serving the needs of Muslims is not debatable. However, such institutions are literally half the equation. In many Muslim societies, especially those having large rural populations, the role of so-called "popular Islam" and in this case, shrine-based activity, is difficult to exaggerate. This is especially true in the former Soviet Union where such activity was one of the few aspects of Soviet-era Islam that was not completely sanitized and extensively controlled by the state. While other Islamic institutions, were either destroyed outright or deprived of their abilities to function, holy sites continued to provide their client communities with a way to continue to be Muslim. Even if one accepts the "criticism" of Soviet scholars and, increasingly, Western observers and other formally trained Muslims that shrine-based activity in Turkmenistan is a "vulgarized" form of Islamic religiosity, one cannot deny its sustaining role in the Soviet period and its formative one in the era of independence when national and religious aspirations are being recreated and recast.
Written sources coupled with information gleaned from field work demonstrate that holy sites continue to contribute to the definition and delineation of social boundaries and the generation and preservation of communal (and Islamic) identity. From individual pilgrimages undertaken to seek a cure from sickness to the mass hudaiyolï prior to planting and harvesting, and from local shrines limited to serving one lineage or community to widely known and popular sites visited by hundreds of pilgrims weekly, the shrine complex serves fundamental spiritual and cultural needs and defines concepts of power and identity on both the local and national scale. At these sites people not only learn, take part in, and pass down rituals, they learn about and discuss issues of power, piety, virtue, and proper behavior along with other Islamic values and teachings. And although it cannot be said that the sites in the Soviet period were hotbeds of underground Islamic anti-Soviet activity, as had been asserted by some influential Western scholars, the fact that aspects of the pilgrimage tradition generally remained outside the pale of both the Soviet government and the official Islamic establishment provide ample evidence that the pilgrimage tradition may incorporate popular feelings and sensibilities that are largely unknown to outside observers. Now, while there are attempts by the governments of the newly independent states of Central Asia to oversee and co-opt some especially popular sites and while the official religious establishments of these countries are trying to "Islamically sanitize" specific shrines and educate the population in mosques and madrasas, this tradition of the shrines being somehow autonomous local entities persists. Admittedly, while the new "antagonists" are not nearly as opposed to, and brutal toward, shrine worship and pilgrimage, they are keenly aware that shrines continue to provide a forum for popular discussion in an environment where public debate and discourse are usually otherwise closely monitored and tightly controlled. And while all the information we have gathered and activity we have witnessed have been apolitical, one may speculate as to the potential such a religiously-charged forum has.
In many ways then, shrine pilgrimage is a metaphor for the fate of Islam in Turkmenistan and in much of former Soviet Central Asia. It represents an Islam highly influenced by local tradition and sensibilities; one greatly affected by Soviet rule, but also one which has reemerged with new vigor and significance in an era when national and religious aspirations are being rediscovered and recast. Thus, whatever the perception or approach, shrine and pilgrimage in Turkmenistan deserve special attention as focal points for popular Islam and for their role in local and national identity. Their study offers an excellent avenue for providing insights into understanding Turkmen culture and religious belief in both historical and contemporary contexts.


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Basilov, V., 1970, Kul't sviatykh v islame. Moscow., 1975, O proiskhozhdenii turkmen-ata, in Domusulmanskie verovaniia i obriady v Srednei Azii. Moscow.
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DeWeese, Devin, 1994, Islamization and Native Religion in the Golden Horde: Baba, Tukles and Conversion to Islam in Historical and Epic Tradition., Pennsylvania State University Press.

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[ ]

* The author received an MA in Russian and East European studies and an MA in Central Asian Studies in 1993 from Indiana University, where he is now a PhD candidate in the Department of Central Eurasian Studies. He taught Central Asian culture and languages at Indiana from 1991 to 1996 and has spent nearly two years in Central Asia pursuing ethnographic and linguistic studies.
[1] The spellings of the majority of italicized words are transliterations from standard Turkmen (in the Cyrillic script).
[2] The work on saint veneration, shrines, and sacred places of Goldziher (1971) first published in the late nineteenth century, exemplifies some of the fundamental scholarship on the subject.
[3] Except for the works of Soviet specialists which will be discussed below, there have been virtually no in-depth studies on Soviet Central Asian shrine activity. The only detailed non-Soviet work done on Muslim shrines in Central Asia is McChesney (1991) which focuses on a shrine in northern Afghanistan and presents an excellent study of the history of a shrine and its critical role in the social, political, and economic life of an entire region.
[4] Five trips were made to Turkmenistan and a total of eight months were spent there. On my most recent trip (1995) I accompanied Dr. Devin DeWeese (Indiana University) to conduct field research in Turkmenistan, Kazakstan, Uzbekistan on the shrine and pilgrimage tradition. I am very greatful to Dr. DeWeese for allowing me to take part in his work on the topic and for his constant help and inspiration in conducting my research.
[5] In the Soviet period Turkmen tribal history became a sensitive topic and one fettered by ideological constraints. Soviet scholars generally had to emphasize the ancient unity of Turkmen tribes and thus were precluded from objectively and comprehensively writing about the varying elements making up the Turkmen people.
[6] Soviet ethnographers generally maintain that the tribes and groups in the mountain areas possess features and traditions (with the exception of language) similar to those of the Pamir peoples in Tajikistan and Afghanistan. See, for example, Vasil'eva (1954).
[7] The word öwlat comes from the Arabic walad -- "heir, son, child." In standard Turkmen the word designates "holy group" and does not refer to "descendants" or "generation" as in the languages of other Central Asian peoples.
[8] Four öwlat groups claim Ali, one Osman, and one Abu Bakr. The genealogies often ultimately end with Adam.
[9] The term ishan (from Persian "they") in the Central Asian context gives clear reference to Sufism as ishans were synonymous with Sufi adepts and shaykhs while aga/aka is a form of address used for older males and literally means "uncle" or "older brother." Other forms of address for males include öwlat aga, khoja aga, shïkh aga, etc.
[10] The terms in Turkmen to designate those of non-öwlat origin are garamayak or garachï which may be translated as "commoners" or "common folk."
[11] It was common practice for non-öwlat groups to offer öwlat families special parcels of land and access to all-important sources of water (as well as other privileges). The practice has evidently continued into the present day as anti-religious literature in the Soviet period presented accounts of how öwlat members were recruited by communities and enticed with property and wealth to move and take up residence within a community. For example, see Khaiïdov and M. Tuvakbaeva (1986: 17).
[12] In the cases of older cemeteries, the figure is also often ascribed the status of community head or founder and thought to have been from Arabistan.
[13] In Arabic öwlüyä is the plural of wali "companion, friend (of God), saint."
[14] Roadside signs put up next to cemeteries are of two types in Turkmenistan. On one type it is noted "such and such's gonamchïlïk" (named for the non-öwlat gonambashï) while on the other it is noted as "such and such's öwlüyä" (named for the öwlüyä/öwlat member who is gonambashï).
[15] Demidov (1978) offers some analysis on this hypothesis but describes the process using the the terms "denigration" and "vulgarization" (of Sufism), thus presenting more evidence for the so-called "illegitimacy" of virtually all aspects of present-day Turkmen Islamic belief and activity, especially the öwlat groups and shrine pilgrimage.
[16] It is interesting to note here that many older men we met at shrines spoke not only of the destruction caused by the brutal Soviet anti-religious programs but also of the damage caused by World War Two. A large percentage of the generation of men now in their 50's and 60's -- the age of the men most likely to be engaged in officiating shrine activity and taking care of shrines today -- lost their fathers in World War Two. These men claim that much of the local knowledge of the "intellectual traditions" associated with the shrines died with their fathers. While women kept alive the practices that came with actual pilgrimage, they were not able to pass down the knowledge possessed by their husbands (except for general information connected with legends, etc.).
[17] The vast majority of the caretakers we met said they had been newly appointed (since Turkmenistan's independence in 1991) and that prior to their coming there was no permanent caretaker at the shrine.
[18] Many of the caretakers with whom we met with knew little more than vague legends about their shrine and the individual to which it was dedicated.
[19] Aside from an outright attack on individuals attempting to utilize their status as öwlat members in ways deemed socially harmful by the state, scholarship in Turkmenistan attempted to portray öwlat groups as "ordinary" Turkmen lineage groups whose sacred origins were constructs devised to exploit others. This was not only part of an effort to designed to combat religious belief but also part of a larger attempt by official scholarship to play-down tribal differences and to promote the concept of a unified Turkmen nation.
[20] Much information supplied by Soviet specialists such as Demidov was used by Western Sovietologists and specialists in Soviet Islam, especially in their efforts to portray Central Asia as a hotbed of organized anti-Soviet Islamic activity. The best examples of this are found in Bennigsen (1983, 1985, 1986).
[21] It must be noted that an apparent contradiction of Soviet scholarship and the anti-religious struggle was to "unmask" the pre-Islamic links with such activity and brand it as "un-Islamic" (thus carrying on the tradition as discussed above found in Vambery, etc.) Therefore, shrine pilgrimage was depicted as an ancient survival of the past having dubious links with Islam and as an activity engaged by ignorant folk who were unwitting victims of the inertia of traditionalism (aside from Demidov, see Poliakov: 1992).
[22] Anti-religious literature consistently cites circumcision, Muslim marriages, the offering of blessings, the tradition of slaughtering animals for meals in the name of God, and pilgrimage to holy sites as the most "visible and destructive" "vestiges of the past" in Turkmen society (see for example, Tüliev, 1973: 16-27). Anti-religious literature published in the other Central Asian republics contains similar assertions.
[23] Soviet scholarship (see, for example, the works of Basilov and Demidov) typically asserts that the veneration of these objects dates back millenia and is closely related to animism and other ancient beliefs.
[24] Dr. DeWeese and I have compiled a list of some three hundred holy sites in Turkmenistan, of which I have visited approximately ninety. There are undoubtedly many more.
[25] The affix -jan is common in Turkic languages and denotes affection and endearment.
[26] It is worth noting that the "enemies" (yagï) and "raiders" (garakchï) described in legends at this and many other sites are seen as Iranians or at least coming from Iran. Thus, Kurds are also often portrayed as the attackers.
[27] It is common for visitors to untie the strips of cloth and attach them to their wrists as a means of protection from illness, bad luck, and the evil eye. The strips then must never be taken off of the wrist; they must wear-out and fall off by themselves.
[28] The young women noted there are numerous prayers recited at the shrine like the one below:
Dushmanïng gaharïndan gachan -
One who has escaped the enemy's wrath,
Ulï dagdan gapï achan -
One who has opened a door into a great mountain,
Jenneding törüne gechen -
One who has passed to heaven's place of honor,
Parawbibi senden kömek -
[I ask] of you, Paraw Bibi, assistance.
[29] It is clear that while many of the rituals and activities are designed to assist young brides to become fertile, young women who are not wishing for children conduct the same rites as for other purposes. Thus the various elements of such activity make up a pilgrimage; their completion allows the pilgrim to receive a blessing (pata almak) from Paraw Bibi.
[30] To his great pleasure he was treated to a more in-depth account of who Khoja Yusup Baba was and why he is significant in April 1995 when Dr. Devin DeWeese gave him a great deal of historical information. The caretaker said it was his duty to record in writing what he had heard.
[31] Here, like at most other sites, all such items and materials were donations left by pilgrims. Tradition stipulates that donations made to facilitate pilgrimage are sogap ishler (acts for which reward will be given by God -- Arabic thawab).
[32] The etymology of the term is unclear and little studied; no specialists have used the term in connection with the Arabic word for "banner" (alam). Many Turkmen use the term mata or mata bölegi (cloth or piece of cloth) to describe the strips.
[33] Basilov (1970: 64-65) notes the shrine's existence since the mid 15th century.
[34] Basilov considers the figure of Baba Gambar and the legend of rivalry that existed between him and Ali to reflect a stage in the religious development among the Turkmen when Islam began to absorb and Islamify previous pre-Islamic religious belief and practice. In this case, a pre-Islamic shaman-like figure took on an Islamic identity but acted out a competition and show of power with Ali, a quintessential Islamic figure in Central Asia. Basilov asserts that as time went on the pre-Islamic figures in such legends gradually lost in the competitions and even disappeared in the legends all together, thus signaling a more complete Islamization of the population and their beliefs.
[35] This mausoleum was built between my visits in 1994 and 1995. Prior to 1994 it was a low burial mound surrounded by stones.
[36] It is evident from our findings that the chile agach is particular almost exclusively to areas in central-south Turkmenistan.
[37] These include the hottest and coldest periods of the year as well as the 40-day period after a child's birth. The term may also be used in some areas in connection with adherents of Sufism, namely the period of isolated prayer and meditation.
[38] While numerous informants spoke of the rules regarding chile, possible consequences, and remedies, we have found no written reference to or explanation of the chile agach other than that of Demidov (1988: 77-78).
[39] Tree size, shape, genus in themselves apparently are not what makes a tree or piece(s) of wood a chile agach.
[40] In the case of Turkmenistan and much of former Soviet Central Asia the tremendous changes brought about by Soviet rule and policies such as collectivization did not destroy all elements of traditional living patterns. The majority of collective and state farms -- the basic administrative units created in rural-agricultural areas -- remain largely inhabited by members of one or related lineages, clans, etc.
[41] I have so far been unable to locate any mention of Khoja Älem Baba or his öwlüyä in any written source.
[42] A standard Soviet interpretation of the tradition in its local character is summed up by Ataev (1989: 9, 61): "As clear from Turkmenistan history, religious officials created 'miraculous' places connected with the places inhabited by each Turkmen tribal clan and used their cult [of the holy sites] for their own benefit."
[43] In their analyses of such traditions, many Soviet ethnographers and historians invariably stress only the primitive links with animal sacrifice to both the dead and deities, and in the case of the Turkmen, they invariably discuss the tradition as a vestige ceremony connected with the "cult of ancestors."
[44] In Turkmen, a typical way of explaining the undertaking was: "Biz Shuwlan babanyng yoluna chebish öldürip, hudaiyoly ediäris. " -- We are killing (slaughtering) a young goat in the name of/to Shuwlan Baba (a saint/shrine in southwestern Turkmenistan) and conducting a hudaiyolï.
[45] Many individuals also noted that the meal may also be given after one had promised "in his heart" (without making a pilgrimage) to conduct the hudaiyolï if God or a saint granted his/her wish.
In some cases hudaiyolï are conducted in the home as well. As one elderly women explained to me, the venue of the hudaiyolï is not as important as the intention behind it and the actual act of the offering. Other informants in the city of Ashgabat claimed that hudaiyolï were conducted in homes because they, as members of the Teke tribe, do not make pilgrimages to shrines as much as members of other tribes. Many rural Teke, however, scoffed at this and remarked that the lack of pilgrimage on the part of city-dwellers reflected their loss of tradition and knowledge of turkmenchilik -- "Turkmenness."
[46] Apparently time and other constraints do not always allow for the preparation of a meal during pilgrimage, especially at smaller sites which lack cooking facilities. In such cases pilgrims may bring with them bread and other prepared food items.
[47] Virtually all the sites we had noted on lists compiled prior to our 1995 visit to Turkmenistan have been or are being renovated (or reconstructed) and signs of regular pilgrimage activity are clear. In some cases "new" sites have been (re)discovered. On the whole, this is characteristic in Uzbekistan and southern Kazakstan as well and probably in all of the former republics of Soviet Central Asia. The situation in Uzbekistan is particularly interesting because of the state's eagerness to co-opt shrines and be seen as the chief sponsor of aspects of the traditions connected with the shrines. The state, for example, has taken control of the popular shrines Zangi Ota (Tashkent), Baha ad-Din Naqshband (Bukhara), and Muhammad al-Bukhari (near Samarqand). Many observers see this activity as both simply part of the government's effort to control all elements of Uzbek life and a reflection of its uneasiness with "popular" Islam.
[48] See, for example, "Din ïnsan kalbïnï tämizleyän ulï güychdür," Watan, 20 Sept. 1994, p.2-3. Dozens of articles have been published in popular Turkmen-language newspapers and journals in recent years lauding the pilgrimage tradition and detailing the histories of specific shrines and the figures to which they are dedicated. Such treatments, however, have been careful to refrain from condoning all aspects of belief and practice connected with shrine-based activity, especially healing conducted by holy men, custodians, etc.
[49] He is sometimes referred to in the press as Nasrulla Ibadulla oglï as well. The interview took place in his Dashhowuz office located in one of Turkmenistan's three madrasas. He is an Uzbek by nationality. He graduated from Bukhara's Mir Arab Madrasa and studied in Egypt for four years

(SHRINE PILGRIMAGE IN TURKMENISTAN AS A MEANS TO UNDERSTAND ISLAM AMONG THE TURKMEN( part1


by David Tyson (No.1, 1997)


[ ] Introduction[1]
Hindsight and recent research have demonstrated that Soviet and Western observers misunderstood or ignored some of the most fundamental and resilient aspects of Islamic religious practice in the Soviet Union. Soviet scholarship in the field, ever bound by its ideological constraints, aimed to reduce Islamic belief and practice to out and out superstition and survivals of primitive pre-Islamic times. And although work done by Soviet specialists did provide information about the existence and ethnographic "make-up" of many popular Islamic beliefs and practices, the rigid approaches inherent in Soviet research left little possibility for broad analysis. Much of the research carried out by Western specialists, on the other hand, took direction from the Sovietology tradition and therefore was generally oriented to uncovering signs of anti-Soviet or politicized Islamic activity. Furthermore, specialists from non-Soviet-bloc countries were denied meaningful access to the Islamic areas and could only attempt to interpret and analyze the work of their Soviet counterparts. Thus the subject of Islam as it was practiced by the majority of Soviet Central Asian Muslims basically remained untouched by non-Soviet interpretive frameworks.
In this article I will provide a glimpse into Islam in Central Asia and more specifically highlight the fundamental traits and aspects of shrine-centered religious practice in Turkmenistan. In doing so, I hope to shed some light on some of the processes that are at the core of Islam in Turkmenistan. I also plan to demonstrate that shrine pilgrimage (zïyarat) and the beliefs underlying it have played fundamental roles not only in shaping Islam in Turkmenistan (and by extension throughout Central Asia) but also in creating and sustaining communal identity in the region up to the present day.
The shrine complex has long been prominent on the Islamic landscape and its significance has been noted by many scholars.[2] With few exceptions, however, specialists have given little attention to shrine-centered religious activity in the context of Central Asia.[3] A look into current Central Asian Islamic practice coupled with a knowledge of religious behavior in the region from a historical perspective provides ample evidence that shrines have long been critical focal points of Islam among the Turkmen.
What follows is based on a review of literature on shrines in Turkmenistan and associated activities. Aside from offering a brief analysis of some of the most pertinent aspects of the literature, I will provide information gathered during research visits to Turkmenistan in 1993-1995.[4]
The Origins of Islam among the Turkmen and the "Holy Tribes"
Recent research into the Islamization of parts of the former Soviet Union (DeWeese, 1994 and forthcoming) provides useful paradigms for understanding how conversion, communal identity, and saint status may be closely linked concepts critical to the origins and development of shrines among the Turkmen. One aspect of this paradigm suggests that Muslim "holy men" (Sufi shaykhs) emerged as key players in conversion due in part to their knowledge of Inner Asian pre-Islamic ("religious") traditions and their ability to convey Islam's power and meaning in ways understandable, recognizable, and meaningful to local populations. The conversion of these communities to Islam, as stressed in subsequent oral conversion narratives, was often acknowledged as the genesis of the community itself -- its re-formation or re-definition in Islamic terms. The prominence of ancestor worship in Turkmen religious traditions apparently provided fertile soil for Islamic conversion and converter to take on indigenous "religious" meaning. One of the most visible indicators of this is the status of tribal or communal progenitor often ascribed to figures believed to be Islamicizers among the Turkmen. The burial sites of these Muslim founding fathers became then a focal point of veneration and were accompanied by a sort of "Muslim shamanism" -- ancestral spirits came to be identified with the companions of the "saint-progenitor" and the burial sites (real or imagined) took on the qualities of shrines where vital concerns (both spiritual and otherwise) could be addressed. These shrines thus emerged not only as sites where sacred power was localized but as nexus points where Islam and the traditions of pre-Islamic times joined and developed -- here local communities dealt with Islam and accepted it as their own. Perhaps most importantly, as later developments would show, the holy sites became part and parcel of daily life, accessible to all members of the community.
Beside venerating sites of ancestral Islamicizers, communities in Central Asia adopted saints with other qualifications, and a variety of personages considered to have spiritual, intellectual, or physical power acquired saintly status. Thus the purported burial sites of, or places otherwise connected with, stock Islamic saints (Ali, Solomon, etc.), local rulers, learned scholars, warriors, as well as pre-Islamic figures have become shrines. As with the progenitor-ancestor saint, the communities which appropriated these well-known personages often considered them to be exclusively "theirs" even though they may have acknowledged their having a greater significance outside their community. This exclusiveness again was due the saint's purported activity in a certain locale or community and more often than not his role in the founding or sustaining of that community.
Literature on the subject shows that shrine complexes throughout the Islamic world may serve as, especially in rural areas, localized, communally run entities to which other religious institutions such as mosques, etc. are often attached. Pilgrimage to the sites brings with it then an impetus for religious communication and many times social and economic exchange (McChesney 1991). Furthermore, the specific local nature of the site acts to contribute to the creation or at least definition of communal identity and its concomitant boundaries; in Turkmenistan the results of these often ongoing processes may be observed today.
Numerous agents have molded and influenced the development of shrine based religious activity in the Central Asian states of the former USSR. While it is safe to say that Russian colonial and then Soviet rule have been the most foreign and overtly powerful forces to confront Central Asian society, there were and are several important characteristics inherent in the Central Asian, and more specifically, Turkmen tradition that have made shrine pilgrimage in Turkmenistan what it is today.
An initial but enduring characteristic evident in Turkmen shrine activity has been the mark left by the pre-Islamic traditions, including ancestor worship and shamanism mentioned above. While there are other rituals, customs, and traits connected with Turkmen shrines that can be traced back to a host of other pre-Islamic traditions, it is the legacy of ancestor veneration which seems to underlie the most fundamental and critical aspects of the Turkmen tradition. It is also this tradition which provides the most noticeable and perhaps most relevant links with the past.
The Turkmen possess one of the most well-defined tribal structures in Central Asia. While they do claim a mythical ancestor, Oghuz Khan, who serves as the progenitor of the majority of existing Turkmen tribes, Turkmen (tribal) history is replete with intertribal enmity and instances of "non-Turkmen" tribes becoming part of the larger tribal structure. Although the advent of Soviet power did much to mitigate the exclusivity of tribal identity, it continues to manifest itself and be relevant in Turkmenistan, especially in rural areas.
Within the Turkmen tribal structure, there are a number of tribes and groups that do not trace their genealogy back to Oghuz Khan and were labeled by pre-Soviet era (mostly Russian) scholars as "non-Turkmen" tribes.[5] These include tribes and lineages appearing to have their ethnic origins among either ancient local Iranian peoples or Turkic groups believed to pre-date the coming of the Oghuz. The majority of these communities have long inhabited compact areas on the desert fringe either along the Amudarya River or in and along the Kopetdag Mountains.[6] Studies show that these groups have also come down through the centuries as sedentary agriculturists and did not engage in nomadic stock breeding like other more well-known and larger Turkmen tribes.
Another type of "non-Turkmen" lineage group, labeled by Soviet scholars as "holy groups" or "honor groups," are known by the Turkmen designation öwlat or öwlät.[7] Turkmen tradition generally recognizes six öwlat groups in the following order according to perceived holiness and power: Khoja, Seyit, Shïkh, Magtïm, Ata, and Müjewür. All six groups trace their lineage to one of three of the first four caliphs of Islam (and by extension to Prophet Muhammad).[8] To those knowledgeable about general Islamic history, the concept of the sacred lineage (as embodied in the Sayyid and Sharif groups) is a familiar one as such groups are prominent elements in Islamic social and political history. It is apparent, however, that the role and significance of the groups in Turkmen society varied greatly from those of their counterparts in other parts of the Islamic world.
Studies conducted by Soviet ethnographers show that while the accepted and popular reasons for the öwlats' sacred character are their perceived Arab origins and their genealogical links to Muhammad, other less obvious and less cited reasons have to do with more recent processes and events. The research into the groups' genealogical history demonstrates invariably that individual Sufi figures, the majority of whom lived anywhere from the fourteenth to seventeenth century, are noted as links in the groups' genealogical structures (Demidov 1976; Basilov 1975). Perhaps more importantly, it is usually these figures whom researchers consider to be the first in the genealogies to be actual historic personages who lived and were active in areas inhabited by Turkmen. For example, the öwlat group Ata possesses a structure of several lineages, all of which have as their progenitor Gözli Ata (or Hasan Ata), who Demidov (1976) claims lived in the fourteenth century. According to the group's oral history and genealogical documents, Gözli Ata came from the town of Turkistan, a center of Sufi teaching and activity, to western Turkmenistan to settle among the Turkmen and carry on his teachings. Legend portrays Gözli Ata to be an especially powerful saint, outdoing other saints in competitions of miracle performance and thus winning over large numbers of adherents.
It is apparent from this research that öwlat groups have origins traceable to a Sufi founding-father who either converted a community or was integral in giving it a Muslim identity. The fact that these groups consider themselves to be closely tied to sources of holiness and power is interesting in itself, but it is more significant that this sacred character is understood by the members of virtually all other Turkmen tribes. While sources show that some Turkmen tribes and communities did not consider specific öwlat groups or lineages to be "genuine" öwlats, the principle of the öwlat, its sacred origins, and by extension its potential power, were all accepted as fact (although in many cases grudgingly and with resentment) by the other Turkmen tribes.
The role that öwlat groups came to assume in Turkmen society is fairly complex and little is known about their early development. Generally it can be said that all acknowledged öwlat members, be they male or female, adult or child, were shown an extraordinary degree of respect and deference. Non-öwlat members, when addressing individual males from an öwlat (even young boys) would use terms such as ishan aga while females would be addressed using the honorific totam.[9] Furthermore, Turkmen society had the öwlat and non-öwlat as one of its basic divisions into which all Turkmen fell.[10] Öwlat property was inviolable and this proved to be extraordinarily beneficial to the öwlats' economic standing, especially in light of the otherwise hostile environment of raiding and plundering which often characterized Turkmen tribal relations.
Aside from displaying an attitude of deference and adhering to policies of inviolability toward the öwlats, non-öwlat tribes sought to have öwlat members settle among them, or at least in close proximity.[11] Historic patterns of öwlat settlement reflect this with many öwlat groups dispersed throughout all inhabited areas of Turkmenistan. There are also cases of fairly large-scale öwlat migrations, often in conjunction with the movements of non-öwlat tribes who either encouraged or forced öwlat members to move with them. The reasons for this need on the part of non-öwlat Turkmen to have öwlat members close by and accessible were manifold. The inviolable nature of the öwlat and their status as non-tribal Turkmen allowed them, in principle, to act outside and above the realm of Turkmen tribal politics. Thus öwlat members were sought as mediators in disputes occurring both within Turkmen tribes and among them. In fact, it may be argued that the öwlats acted as "buffers" between Turkmen tribes not only due to their physical location between often hostile Turkmen tribes but also through the groups' abilities to mediate and prevent violence.
The importance of the öwlats to Turkmen society was, as may be expected, not limited to such political and economic realms. These were simply outgrowths, albeit perhaps calculated, of other more fundamental and profound qualities inherent to the öwlats. For instance, in many areas inhabited by Turkmen it was considered almost mandatory for öwlat representatives to bless and officiate at festivities, the spring planting and fall harvest, religious gatherings, and life-cycle events. Non-öwlat communities and families would also seek out the advice and council of öwlat elders prior to undertakings such as marriage, the movement from one pasture to the next, and other social and economic ventures. Another important role performed by specific öwlat members was that of spiritual guide and healer. Both pre-revolutionary material and Soviet-era anti-religious literature stress these functions and provide numerous examples; especially accounts of how öwlat members crafted talismans, were seen as possessing the knowledge and power to cure sickness and mental disorder, and could assist in the making and breaking of "spells."
The close relationship between the non-öwlats and öwlat communities has resulted in a some confusion about the öwlats' place among other Turkmen tribes. It is apparent that over time certain öwlat groups have become assimilated into the tribal structure of some non-öwlat tribes. The origins of the assimilation may vary and are difficult to trace; however, there are some non-öwlat tribes that have öwlat clans. For example the Nohurlï tribe of southern Turkmenistan has among its lineage groups two separate Khoja öwlat-clans. Perhaps the most common practice was one where non-öwlat communities came to "adopt," through the relationships noted above, öwlat families and larger communities as their own. It is common to find small öwlat lineage groups interspersed among larger non-öwlat tribes and referred to as being possessed by the larger tribe, i.e. the Teke's öwlat, the Yomut's Khojas, while the term öwlatsïz ("without öwlat") was used (often contemptuously) to refer to communities that did not have an ongoing relationship with öwlat members.
The acknowledged sacred character of the öwlat, while certainly relevant for those living, was just as significant for the community with respect to the deceased. And it is here that the öwlat and the concept of öwlat status play fundamental roles in defining what constitutes a shrine in the Turkmen tradition.
Virtually all Turkmen cemeteries have a gonambashï, a "head of the cemetery," who is to be the first buried and around whom are to be buried all others of the community. Soviet ethnographers tell us that the gonambashï should be a respected figure of the community who possessed some kind of power (intellectual, physical, etc.) or otherwise demonstrated some skill that set him apart from ordinary people. Thus, as generally claimed by Soviet research on the subject, the identity of the gonambashï preserved by local tradition is connected with his being a religious official or figure such as a judge, mulla, or ishan.[12] The belief was that the powers and skills of the gonambashï would continue to serve both the ancestors in the world of the dead and living members of the community.
It should not be surprising then, if communities had as their cemetery's gonambashï an influential öwlat member who had a relationship with that community; in fact, most relevant research either states or implies this practice. In standard Turkmen and in many Turkmen dialects the word for cemetery is gonamchïlïk. Other words cited in dictionaries and used by Soviet specialists in Turkmen religious practice include öwlüyä, mazarlïk, and gabrïstan. It is apparent, however, that there are nuances distinguishing the terms which Soviet linguists and other scholars have never, for some reason, fully elaborated upon, namely the usage of öwlüyä as compared to the other terms. Much of the Soviet-era anti-religious literature in Turkmen, when referring to pilgrimage and shrine activity, uses the words öwlüyä and keramatlï er. The meaning of keramatlï er and what it implies are fairly clear --"miraculous place" or "place where miracles occur"-- and is not confused with other terms. Öwlüyä, on the other hand, as described by informants (and as noted in the literature) may refer to a number of things such as "saint," "burial place of a saint" or "cemetery."[13] The most common usage of the term, however, apparently incorporates all the usages noted above ("saint," "burial place of a saint," "cemetery," and "miraculous place") and refers to the shrine, or burial place, of a holy figure to which one may make a pilgrimage when the need arises and at which miraculous intercession may emanate, occur, or be accessed. Informants noted furthermore that pilgrimages were made only to öwlüyä (or keramatlï er) and not to gonamchïlïk (as females and young children were not permitted to enter gonamchïlïk -- "ordinary" cemeteries). Turkmen knowledgeable about local traditional religious belief also made the further distinction that the saint for which the öwlüyä was/is named was an öwlat member. Thus, when asked the difference between the terms öwlüyä and gonamchïlïk several informants stated outright that a gonamchïlïk was a cemetery having a non-öwlat member as its gonambashï while an öwlüyä was a cemetery having as its gonambashï a member of an öwlat (and therefore a place of pilgrimage). In most cases when I did not inquire specifically as to the distinction between the terms, these differences were at least implied.[14]
It is apparent from my preliminary research that according to Turkmen tradition in at least some areas and among at least some communities the criteria cited in making a burial place (and cemetery) an öwlüyä (and therefore a holy site and place of pilgrimage) consisted in part of the öwlat status of the gonambashï. While this criterion is by no means universal and is not known today to all Turkmen, the fact of its existence is consistent with an apparent trend in the overall development of Islam in Turkmenistan, the öwlats, and what has come to constitute the Turkmen' understanding of holiness and power. In other words, this distinction, like other aspects underpinning the Turkmen concept of the sacred, has not so much been blurred as modified and suggests the localization and "popularization" of the sacred on a large scale. Perhaps then, the once critical öwlat status -- the defining aspect of holiness, which itself grew out of the (still largely unexplored and thus hypothetical) popularization of Sufism[15] (the "mass transferal" of sacred status to a collective genealogical lineage) -- in a sense expanded to encompass a variety of non-öwlat figures to whom öwlat status may or may not have been ascribed. The results of these developments are apparently noticable today and underlie our (as opposed to the Turkmen's) confusion as to what currently constitutes an öwlüyä and distinguishes it from an "ordinary" cemetery.
The Turkmen as Muslims: the Shrine Complex and its Fate in the Soviet Period
Thanks in part to accounts of pre-twentieth century foreign travelers and of more "orthodox" Muslims, the religiosity of Turkmen has long been seen as rather dubious. Soviet specialists, as well as their Western counterparts, have also perpetuated and popularized this notion by portraying the Turkmen as, and indeed accusing them of being, "ignorant, wayward" Muslims, "Muslim only in name," or "half Muslim." The tradition is evident in some of the earliest sources on the Turkmen and their ancestors, the Oghuz, and developed from the pen of Muslim (Arab and Persian) historians and travelers. Indeed, during the time of these early accounts (ca. tenth century) the Oghuz were hostile to the Arab military forces and had only begun to be exposed to Islam. In the tenth century Persian work, the Hudud al-Alam, the author notes the Ghuz (Oghuz) to venerate whatever is "good or wonderful" and to show great deference to healers (Hudud al-Alam: 100). Ibn Fadlan, in notes from his travels, provides a decidedly negative assessment of Oghuz custom and emphasizes their hostility toward Islam (Materialy po istorii turkmen i turkmenii 1939: 159-164). While such accounts were indeed written prior to the Islamization of the Oghuz and concern groups located outside of the boundries of present-day Turkmenistan, later portrayals do nothing but sustain this reputation. For example, the famous ninteenth-century orientalist and traveler Arminius Vambery (1970: 312) offers a succinct synopsis of the Turkmen and their relationship to Islam which has continued to affect and color scholarship to the present day:
"Many usages, which are prohibited to the Islamite, and which the Mollahs make the object of violent attack, exist in all their ancient originality; and the changes effected by Islam, not only amongst the Turkomans, but amongst all the nomads of Middle Asia, were rather confined to the external forms of the religion previously existing. What they before found in the Sun, fire, and other phenomena of nature, they saw now in Allah-Mohammed: the nomad is ever the same, now as two thousand years ago; nor is it possible for any change to take place in him till he exchanges his light tent for a substantial house; in other words, till he has ceased to be a nomad."
Thus, while perceptions concerning the Turkmen's "pseudo-Muslim" character stemmed from an early hostility to Islam on the part of Oghuz tribal leaders, they were sustained by stereotypes connected with the Turkmen's non-urban and non-sedentary traditions -- traditions which have long been seen as inherently un-Islamic by many orientalists and some Muslims alike. The practice of shrine worship and the "shamanism-like" behavior that often accompanied pilgrimage were some of the most visible elements feeding the perceptions, and therefore became commonly cited "evidence" for the perceived infidel underpinnings inherent in Turkmen religious belief and practice. This is especially ironic in light of the fact that Arab historians (Golden 1992: 211-213) link the genesis of the Turkmen as a people (their "breaking off" from those tribesmen who remained known by the name Oghuz/Ghuz) with their willingness to accept Islam (or at least their willingness to follow their leaders who accepted Islam). Thus, in spite of the Turkmen's perceived origins as Muslims and Islam's constant fundamental role in sustaining and regeneration of Turkmen identity, and in spite of their steadfast adherence to and professing of Islam, specialists and observers alike continued to portray the religious practices of the Turkmen as superficially Islamic and the Turkmen themselves as poor examples of Muslims.
Soviet scholarship as well attempted to portray Islam as practiced by the Turkmen as essentially a primitive pre-Islamic tradition dressed over in Islamic garb, and the official attitudes toward and study of holy sites developed within the larger ideological frameworks connected with the policies of forced atheism. Major sites with some historic, or more often, architectural significance were at the very least "sanitized" and turned into state-run tourist sites or museums which, in many cases, were designed to combat religious behavior through atheist enlightenment. Others were effectively shut down due to renovation and restoration. The vast majority of sites, however, experienced a range of fates and depended more on the atheistic fervor or apathy of local government officials. Some were destroyed outright, by bulldozers, communist youth organizations, and so on, while others were declared "off limits" and fenced off with barbed wire. Control over popular sites was tight and it was common for informants to act as visitors and monitor sites by reporting the license plate number of vehicles ferrying pilgrims. Some local governments even tried to ward off visitation by posting signs which alleged that the area was unsanitary and that disease was present. Finally, a percentage was basically ignored by the authorities.
It is apparent from interviews with Turkmen who experienced the last decades of Soviet rule and witnessed anti-religious activity aimed at holy sites, that government policy, or at least the enforcement of policy, was not always uniform and had a variety of effects. For example, sanction upon those engaged in shrine visitation varied according to age and especially job status. Party officials, party members, and members of the state apparatus had the most to lose if found to be engaged in religious behavior deemed detrimental to society. Therefore these people, who were most often middle-aged males, generally refrained from openly visiting holy sites. Others, such as school teachers, members of the local industrial-agricultural management, and others visible in the local community also could be punished. Common sanctions for these people included the loss of one's job or the benefits and perks which came with the position's status. Another more common punishment consisted of the "recanting" of religious beliefs at local komsomol or party meetings. The majority of the population, however, apparently did not suffer a great deal if caught simply visiting shrines. They too might have been forced to renounce their "transgressions" or to attend atheist meetings (a sort of believers anonymous) and while this might have caused some embarrassment the perceived benefits of visitation apparently often outweighed potential sanctions.
The accounts given by shrine visitors during our visits from 1993-1995 speak of a proud tradition of pilgrimage that was persistent in the final decades of the Soviet era. Informants, while perhaps prone to some exaggeration, describe how large numbers of people (especially rural women, farmers and other blue collar workers) visited holy sites under the cover of darkness and during the day. Although they acknowledge the penalties for engaging in such behavior, and while they stress that most pilgrimages were conducted discreetly without fanfare, most informants claim that the strength of the pilgrimage tradition (as both a local/tribal and a national tradition) coupled with the perceived power and protection offered by the saints and holy sites themselves were the main factors in continued visitation. Such people maintain that shrine-based activity was a habitual and important undertaking, critical to both their spiritual and physical well-being. The rather constant attention given to the "evils" of holy sites on the part of Soviet (Turkmen) mass media, Party organizations, anti-religious groups, and academia also point to shrine based activity as part and parcel of many Turkmen's day-to-day lives in both the spiritual and "mundane" realms.
While social status and one's vulnerability to punishment undoubtedly did influence a potential pilgrim's decision to visit or not visit shrines, it was the state's willingness and ability to enforce anti-religious policy that perhaps had the greatest effect on visitation to holy sites. A review of official policy toward religion and interviews with Turkmen provide ample evidence that enforcement of policy and the willingness to punish offenders came in fits and spurts and hinged on a number of often local factors. For example, many Turkmen scholars-workers in the field of what was formerly known as scientific atheism now assert that efforts to eradicate religiosity depended on district (formerly raion, now etrap) officials. While orders and calls to strengthen atheistic upbringing did usually come from the top and such upbringing was an often cited objective in all propaganda, the actual implementation of policy, with a few notable exceptions, was left up to these low level officials. Such officials, more often than not, had been born and raised in the community which they served and usually had strong familial ties with large segments of the community. And although they were educated in Soviet schools and usually were proponents of Party ideals, they also had to contend with the pressures coming out of local tradition and identity which often militated against Soviet ideals and policy. Aside from being part of local tradition, shrines and holy sites were immersed in sensibilities and feelings that Soviet atheistic teachings were never quite able to refute or eradicate. Part of the lore which continues to sustain belief in holy sites emanates from the very nature of their origins -- their being abodes of miraculous power, a power which served to maintain health and well-being and ward off destructive forces. Stories abound of how officials attempting to harm or destroy holy sites met with misfortune -- car accidents, paralysis, untimely death, etc. -- and anti-religious propaganda concerning shrines commonly included such accounts (and their refutations) as a means to unmask the "false nature" of the sites. Undoubtedly, the supernatural aura of the shrines and all that it implied, combined with the pressures stemming from their being rooted in local communal traditions, served to dissuade many officials from displaying more initiative than necessary to combat these religious "survivals of the past."
To claim, however, that Soviet policies toward shrines were somehow benign and that they were often circumvented would not contribute to an accurate portrayal of Soviet-era shrine-based activity or the overall context in which it should be placed. We only have to recall the very successful measures employed by the Soviets to eradicate mosques, madrasas, learned clergy, and a whole host of other critical religious institutions and behavior. This rooting out of Islam had deep and lasting effects on shrine pilgrimage, perhaps the most important of which was the eradication of the sites as local and regional "intellectual centers" of teaching, discussion, and discourse. Aside from the activities associated with pilgrimage itself, it is clear from what we know of the functions and significance of holy sites that shrine complexes of pre-Soviet Central Asia often included mosques and Sufi hostels (khanaqah) and commonly were supported by the well-known Islamic institution of endowment (waqf). The enormous economic, social, and political potential that shrines had in Central Asia has recently been demonstrated by McChesney (1991) and, while primary sources on the waqf and shrines as they existed in pre-Soviet Turkmenistan are scarce, secondary sources and the studies done by Soviet historians and ethnographers provide evidence that the waqf and shrine traditions were similar to those in other parts of Central Asia. From this information it is apparent as well that "Turkmen" shrines had clear links with Sufi activity and in fact served as venues for the transmission of local traditions connected both with Sufism and communal history. While perhaps ignorant of the real significance of shrine pilgrimage and its associated activities, the Soviets were aware of the "threats" posed by mosques and other institutions characterizing "high Islam." Therefore, while sometimes leaving the actual shrines to remain, the Soviets usually physically destroyed accompanying mosques, khanaqahs, and other buildings and persecuted those attending these institutions. With these people then went the knowledge and traditions that so characterized and energized pre-Soviet shrine-based activity.[16]
The anti-religious efforts that were so successful in the years when the Soviets consolidated power in Central Asia (late 1920s-1940s) continued into the final decades of Soviet rule. Aside from the outright destruction of shrines, intense anti-religious ideological campaigns, secular Soviet education, and near criminalization of much religious activity, authorities in Turkmenistan from the 1960s right up to the very end of Soviet power fought against a host of "crimes" closely connected with shrine-based activity. One type of activity consisted of practices and rituals connected with healing, the production of talismans, and other "supernatural" phenomena occurring at shrines with the aid of specific individuals. Anti-religious propaganda and press reports from the 1960s into the 1990s are replete with articles "unmasking" the misdeeds of "charlatan holy men" and "unofficial" mullas who allegedly preyed on "ignorant victims" lacking proper atheistic attitudes and upbringing who came to the shrines in search of aid. Described with terms such as "sorcerers," "witch doctors," and "social parasites," these alleged villains often were members of an öwlat lineage, worked as shrine custodians, and were said to be descendants of saints for whom shrines had been erected. The links between this type of activity and the öwlat tradition described above coupled with activities associated with shrine visitation (the securing of health, prosperity, etc.) are obvious. While it is not clear how many such individuals or percentage of them were caught and punished, the accounts presented in the literature and the stories told by people we met suggest that Soviet power was fairly successful in ridding shrines of their caretaker-holy men through imprisonment and other sanctions.[17] Therefore, while Soviet authorities may not have been successful at persecuting the pilgrims themselves, they did have more success at both eliminating individuals whom segments of the population sought out during pilgrimage and persecuting those who played an important role in the physical maintenance of the shrines and in the preservation and transmission of any formal intellectual tradition that may have existed at the shrine.[18] Therefore, it was the eradication of such individuals which contributed to the damage sustained by the collective memories and other religious traditions of local communities.[19]
As noted, the majority of those attacked in the early Soviet period were recognized Muslim officials or functionaries -- imams, mullas, Sufi leaders and adepts, village elders, öwlat lineage heads, etc. -- those who clearly exercised influence in the community and possessed knowledge passed down in a "formal" manner be it at the home, mosque, madrasa, or khanaqah. In the later Soviet period, after World War Two, the victims of (anti-religious) persecution were the "charlatan healers," "religious parasites," and "self appointed mullas" who in many cases worked at or were closely associated with shrines. Virtually all of these perceived enemies, all of these victims, were men. While the Soviets clearly recognized the influence Central Asian women had in the family and in keeping alive religious traditions, they did not see them as committed instigators diametrically opposed to Soviet rule. In fact, Soviet literature usually portrayed Soviet Muslim women as ignorant and oppressed victims of Islamic traditionalism who would gladly throw off the yoke of Islam when properly educated and confronted with the "freedom" of Sovietization. Therefore the programs and policies directed at women were more subtle and usually did not involve extreme measures. In terms of religious activity especially, women were seen, compared to men, as "small-fry" too numerous and too insignificant to prosecute. Instead, the extensive measures employed by the Soviets -- a universal "Soviet" education system, the efforts to get women out of the home and into jobs, atheist indoctrination, and other acts of Sovietization and modernization -- would, in the eyes of the planners, result in a remolding of the Central Asian woman's consciousness and the eradication of antiquated beliefs and traditions. Because of this treatment and lack of scrutiny, Turkmen women (as well as all Central Asian Muslim women) by default became to a large degree the bearers of numerous Islamic traditions and behavior. In the case of shrine activity today, especially specific aspects associated with actual rituals and veneration, Turkmen women are seen as the chief participants. In fact, many scholars and specialists as well as laymen in Turkmenistan see much of shrine-based activity as a distinctly female realm; only with Turkmenistan's independence and the revival of Turkmen traditions have males become more vocal in acknowledging the legitimacy of the shrine legacy and become more involved in pilgrimage activities.
While Soviet scholarship and propaganda vigorously struggled against shrine-based religious activity and produced volumes of articles, books, and other materials dedicated to its eradication, it is precisely these types of materials which serve as some of the most important sources for the identification and research of holy sites. A number of Soviet specialists made their careers producing such writings and devoted much time, effort, and research to topics connected to holy sites. In the case of Turkmenistan, the most prominent of these is Sergei Demidov who has written several important monographs (Demidov 1976, 1978, 1988) about öwlat groups and holy sites plus many dozens of book and newspaper articles.[20] In his efforts to combat shrine veneration Demidov employed his excellent knowledge of Turkmen language and culture and conducted in-depth research both on-site in villages and at shrines as well as in libraries and archives. His works therefore provide rich ethnographic information and historical background as well as important data as to typologies and the location of holy sites in Turkmenistan.
What is evident from the research of Demidov and other Soviet specialists is that activity connected with holy sites was one of the several fundamental aspects of Islamic practice[21] in Turkmenistan (and Central Asia) in the Soviet period.[22] It's pervasiveness and enduring character evidently were of major concern to Party ideologues and the effort to enlighten believers and eradicate the pilgrimage tradition rivaled that of any other directed against Islamic practice in the post-War years in terms of energy and resources expended.
A survey of existing Soviet sources and results of our field research reveal a typology of holy sites in Turkmenistan with several groups and sub-groups. A first group consists of those sites centered around natural objects or formations: springs, caves, unusual rock formations, trees, etc.[23] Shrines constructed at the believed burial site of personages (saints, martyrs, leaders, etc.) make up another group. A third classification concerns holy sites located at places where important events were to have occurred (the place where a saint prayed, set foot, or rested; the site where a hero died or disappeared, etc.). By no means are these classifications mutually exclusive; in fact, many shrine complexes in Turkmenistan are made up from a combination of types.
Below I will offer several examples of holy sites and shrine complexes that are representative of those in Turkmenistan. All of them were visited by myself (in many cases, with a colleague) in 1993-1995.[24]

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SUFISM IN INDIA: Its origin, history and politics

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by R.Upadhyay

Mystic interpretation of Islamic life within the bonds of religious orthodoxy is known as Sufism, which was initially launched by God fearing people of Perso-Arab world. They renounced the world and devoted themselves to His service. As the seekers of Tawhid (Unity in God) they helped in spread of Islam through mystic movement with intellectualisation of Sunnah (The orthodox customs of Islamic world) as one of its basic principles. (Encyclopaedia of Islam). The Sufis either in their lifetime or their tombs after death became a symbol of supernatural power with metaphysical features ascribed to them under the guidelines of Quran and Sunnah. The disciples of Sufis adopted the path of peace or even armed jehad for  Shariatisation of the whole world as a mission of holy duty. "Seekers of Tawhid should strive to dedicate themselves to the Prophet Mohammad, so much so that their entire selves, including their hearts and their spirits, were free of thoughts other than of God" (History of Sufism in India by Saiyied Athar Abbas Rizvi, Volume 2, 1992, Page 178). 

"Mysticism is a practical spiritual discipline based on the insight of illuminated seekers after truth". It is in fact a mission of higher religious order of any faith, which disdains strife and conflict in any form. Joy of self-realisation being the essence of religion is experienced after a long spiritual practice. The mystics discard outward form of religion once they attain such joy. The concept of Sufism was therefore, to focus the mystic power on the spiritual dimension of Islam with a view to shield the believers from the outwardly and unrealistic dogma of the faith.

Sufism- was it spiritual or politics?

Contrary to the spiritual mission of Sufism, the cult was primarily introduced in India for spread of Islam with a view to help the Muslim rulers for political domination. By and large the spiritual successors of mystic Islamic saints enjoyed the royal favour of Muslim rulers and gave moral support to the atrocious Muslim invaders and looked other way to ignore the growing social conflict. They also guided the State in political affairs with their experience of regular interaction with common people.  

The way Sufis' tombs emerged as a place of pilgrimage suggests that the missionary objective of the Islamic mystics was formulated mainly for conversion and to establish the Perso-Arabian cultural domination in South Asia. Even though the Sufi saints got convinced with non-Islamic worldview on metaphysics in course of their interaction with non-Muslim saints, they did not allow their followers to accommodate it in the straight jacket of Islamic theology. Sufi saints commonly viewed as symbol of secularism however, never opposed Jejiya (Tax imposed on non-believers) levied on Hindus in Islamic India.  

Sufis had accompanied the Muslim marauders in their conquest and brought Islam in contact with Hindu priests and saints. They were receptive to some of the local Hindu traditions may be for a tactical reason to entice the locals towards Islam but ensured that local norms are not accommodated against the watertight Islamic belief, dogma and practice of Quran, Hadith and Sharia which were the fountainheads of Sufism. Their deeply rooted belief and practice of Islamic norms within Perso-Arabic traditions remained the bedrock of the mystic movement. Therefore, in stead of advising the Muslim marauders against their inhuman deeds, the Sufis overlooked the plight of Hindu priests and saints, who were forced to flee and hide themselves. 

Passion to the essential spirituality of life was hardly found in any Muslim ruler or Prince except Dara Shikoh (1615-1659). He was perhaps the only sincere Muslim prince, whose "effort was to find a common ground between Hindu and Muslim religious thought" (Islamic Mysticism in India by Nagendra Kumar Singh, Page 179). For this he was accused of heresy. 

Under the patronage of the State under Muslim rulers, the Sufi mystics while offering spiritual guidance and support to the Hindu subjects allured them for adoption of Muslim identity, superiority of Arbo-Persian-Turkish tradition and accordingly transplanted them in the cultural tradition of India. "The establishment of Sufi orders in India coincided with the rising political power of Muslims (Muslim-Almanac edited by Azim A.Nanji, 1996, Page 61).  

Despite the fact that except Prophet Mohammad, the sainthood in Islam has been a debatable issue, Sufism of various orders in the name of their founder saints has become a universal aspect of Islam. Sufis are known as Islamic spiritualists and the Muslims commonly view them as intermediaries between God and individuals.

Sufism is the sultanate period:

During the period of Sultanate in India these mystics were supposed to guarantee the prosperity to Islamic kingdom. They were patronized by the state for spreading Islam among the non-believers with their acclaimed spiritual influences in the mass. The gift and land provided to the Islamic mystics were used for hospice and their tombs became a place of pilgrimage after their death.  

"On paper, the Sultanate seemed to be a perfectly Islamized state (but) religious leaders often of Arab origin and the religion (Islam) were subordinated to the political exigencies of the Turko-Afghans, who were in power" (A History of Modern India edited by Claude Markovitz, Anthen Press, 2002, Page 30). "No document attests to the peaceful preaching of the Sufis that most defenders of Islam put forward today" (Ibid. Page 33). "The attraction exercised by the politico-economic benefits that Islam offered seemed to have been the primary motivation for conversion, which particularly affected the middle strata of society" (Ibid.page 33).  

Even though the majority of Sufi orders have a Sunni orientation, early Shia Imams were also revered commonly in Sufi circles. However Nakshbandi order of Sufism, which reached the Prophet via Abu Bakra was notably known for anti-Shia views. Suhrawardiyya and Naqshbandiyya orders of Sufism had more support of Muslim political powers in India." The numerous Sufi religious establishments in India were the major means of spreading Islam and adapting it to indigenous cultural tradition" (Islamic Mysticism in India by Nagendra Kumar Singh, former Chairman, Islamic Research Foundation, Delhi). 

Various Sufi Orders:

Of the various Sufi orders, Muslims of India prominently follow Chistiyya, Naqshbandiyya, Qadiriyya and Suharabardiyya. Of them the impact of Chisti order is visible even in small villages of Indian subcontinent.  Kwaja Moin-ud-Din Chisti, a disciple of Khwaja Abu Abdal Chisti, the propounder of this order introduced it in India. Born in Afghanistan in 1142 AD, he came to India with the army of Shihab-ud-Din Ghuri in 1192 AD and selected Ajmer as his permanent abode since 1195. His shrine became a place of pilgrimage largely with the support of Muslim rulers. Akbar used to have annual pilgrimage there (Indian Islam by Murray T.Titus, 1979, Page 117).  

Four Islamic mystics from Afghanistan namely Moinuddin(d. 1233 in Ajmer), Qutbuddin(d. 1236 in Delhi), Nizamuddin (d.1335 in Delhi) and Fariduddin (d.1265 in Pattan now in Pakistan) accompanied the Islamic invaders in India (A History of Modern India edited by Claude Markovitz, Anthen Press, 2002, Page 30). All of them were from the Chistiyya order of Islamic mysticism. Radiating from Delhi under Nizamuddin and following the trail of Mohammad ibn Tughlaq towards the south, the Chistiyya spread its roots all across India ( A History of Modern India edited by Claude Markovitz, Anthen Press, 2002). Internationally famous Sufi Shine at Ajmer Sharif in Rajasthan and Nizamuddin Auliya in Delhi belong to this order. 

A section of Sufis under Chistiyya order was not against adjustment with Hindu saints of Bhakti cult and used even Hindi language for Islamic devotional songs. However, the orthodox Ulama with royal support forced the Sufis to raise the slogan of "back to Shariat" Even though Ulama had certain differences with Sufis over theological and mystic issues, Shariat remained a cementing force between them. Later both the Islamist groups joined together to woo the rulers with a view to furthering their self-seeking interest. 

Suharawardy order of Sufism was founded by Shihabud-Din Suharawardy of Baghdad and introduced in India by his disciple Baha-ud-Din  Zakariya of Multan. Suharawardiyya order of Sufism became popular in Bengal (Contemporary Relevance of Sufism, 1993, published by Indian Council for Cultural relations). Qadiri order founded by Abdul Qadir whose tomb is at Baghdad. Its influence is extensively among the Muslims of south India. 

 Baha-ud-Din Naqshband (1318-1389) of Turkistan founded Naqshbandi order of Sufism. Insistence on rigid adherence to Shariat and nurturing love for prophet was the essence of this order that established its hold in India under the patronage of Mogul rulers, as its founder was their ancestral 'Pir' (Spiritual guide). "The conquest of India by Babur in 1526 gave considerable impetus to the Naqshbandiyya order" (History of Sufism in India by Saiyied Athar Abbas Rizvi, Volume 2, 1992, Page 180). Its disciples remained loyal to the throne because of the common Turk origin. With the royal patronage of most of the Mogul rulers Naqshbandi order served the cause for revival of Islam in its pristine form. 

 Khwaja Mohhammad Baqi Billah Berang whose tomb is in Delhi (E.I.Rose ) introduced Naqshbandi order in India. Though, the Sufis of this order were lying low during the period of Akbar, Khalifa Shaikh Ahmad Sirhindi, (1564-1624), a favourite disciple of Baqi Billah achieved increasing importance and popularised this order when the Great Mogul became bed ridden. Baqi Billah, nicknamed him as 'Mujaddid (Reformer or reviver of Islam for the second millenium).  

Sufi Thinkers:

The Sharia-guided mystic influence of Sufis produced the Muslim thinkers like Shaikh Ahmad Sirhindi, Shah Wali Ullah, Sayied Ahmad Barelavi, Karamat Ali, Sir Sayed Ahmad Khan, Allama Iqbal and Maulana Maududi. They used the mystic philosophy befitting to the political exigencies of the time for revival of political supremacy of Islam. Of them the Sufis like Sirhindi and Wali Ullah, who politicised the mystic ideology for political domination of Islam. They were projected as Islamic reformists for purifying Islam from any extraneous influences. They conveyed the political aspect of Islam to Muslim masses so aggressively that it created a permanent imprint on their psyche. It is therefore said that the Sufi Islamists saved the Islam but failed to save the downfall of Mogul Empire.  

The mission of Shaikh Sirhindi popularly know as Mujaddid was to purify Islam from the influence of Akbar with a view to counter his policy of "the Hindu wielding the sword of Islam" and "Peace with all". Unhappy with the regime of Emperor Akbar for withdrawal of Jejia tax imposed on the Hindus, Sirhindi made hectic effort to purge Islam of all extraneous influences. He viewed Hindu mystics like Guru Nanak and Sant Kabir contemptible, as they did not follow Sharia. 

 With contempt against old schools of mysticism for tolerance, Sirhindi condemned the reign of Akbar for his 'broadmindedness' and policy of 'peace with all'. Propagating against the contemporary socio-cultural situation Sirhindi, felt that the attitude of Akbar "sullied the purity of Islam and the political social and cultural life of Muslims" (History of Sufism in India by Saiyied Athar Abbas Rizvi, Volume 2, 1992, Page Page 212). During the closing years of Akbar reign, when his son Salim had revolted against him, Sirhindi spread the virus of communalism with some success "in the beginning of Jehangir's reign". He strongly criticised freedom of worship granted to the Hindus.  Hate-Hindu syndrome was so deep in him that "death of Akbar (1605) filled Shaikh Ahmad with hopes that the pristine purity of Islam would be implanted in India" (Sufism in India by Saiyied Athar Abbas Rizvi, Volume 2, 1992, Page 204). "Misguided and greedy Ulama, he (Sirhindi) believed, were responsible for the alleged downfall of Islam in Akbar's regime" (Ibid. Page 365.) 

With his strong contempt against Shia and the Hindus, Sirhind wrote several letters to the nobles in the court of Jehangir for guiding the emperor on the path of Shariat, and for removal of Qafirs (Shias and Hindus) from the administration. He was dead against any honourable status of Hindus in Islamic government. Sirhind wanted the religious freedom enjoyed by the Hindus during Akbar regime to be curbed. Enraged with his too much interference in administration, Jehangir imprisoned him in Gwalier (A History of Sufism in India by Saiyid Athar Abbas Rizvi, Vol. II, 1972, Page 178) but released him after one year. Sirhind not only "injected communal virus into the body politic of the country but also generated hatred, mutual distrust and discord among the various sections of Muslims"(Ibid. page XII). Despite this anti-Hindu tirade of Sirhindi, Maulana Abul Kalam Azad in 1919 eulogiged the role of Mujaddid (Sirhind),"who did not see eye to eye with the policy of state" (Ibid. Page215).  

Shah Wali Ullah, a prominent Muslim thinker of eighteenth century who shaped the destiny of Indian Muslims was also a Sufi of Naqshbandi order. His contempt against the Hindus was identical to Shaikh Ahmad Sirhindi. The rise of two Hindu rebellious groups namely Marathas and Jats against the Muslim rulers in 1750s stirred the mystic spirit of Wali Ullah and he invited Ahmad Shah Abdali, the Afghan ruler to invade India to save the Muslims from the subjugation of Hindus. While formulating the contours of his mystical ideology, he transformed the Islamic mysticism to a theo-political concept for supremacy of Islam and for political power to the Sunnis.  

Wali Ullah started a tradition of reformed Sufism in which Islamic mysticism was far superior to other form of mystic philosophy. His reform in Sufi cult made the spirituality of Islam subservient to Political Islam. His doctrine for internal unity of Muslims through complete adherence to pure Islam was only to fight against the infidels and for reestablishment of assertive Islamic political power. His ideology had no scope to accommodate any order of non-Islamic mysticism, which he regarded unhealthy. He tried to comb out all the foreign influences, such as neo-platonism and Vedantism from Islamic mysticism. Carving out a new path for Sufism he became an active Islamist with a sole objective for resurgent Sunni political power in Delhi. (A History of Sufism in India, Vol. II, Rizvi, Page 259).  

Bridging the gulf between the Islamic clerics and Sufis, Wali Ullah infused new vigour in practice of Naqshbandi Sufi order. He synthesised the disciplines of the three major Sufi orders namely Qadari, Chisti and Naqshbandi with a view to unite the Muslim society against the Hindus. Like Shaikh Ahmad Sirhind he was also against the presence of Hindu employees in the administration of Muslim rulers as he viewed it detrimental to the purity of Islam. His attempt was to purify Islam from the mystic influence of Hinduism. Under the influence of Serhindi whose belief that Islam is a complete way of life stirred the Muslims to retrieve the medieval glory of the faith in this sub continent. The exclusivist Ideology of Wali Ullah, which sowed the seed of Muslim separatism in South Asia had nothing to do with the secular intellectual approach towards spiritualism. 

Against the total rejection of Sufism by his contemporary radical Islamist Wahhab of Saudi Arabia, Waliullah used his mystic ideology for political domination of the Muslims in the region. However, the spirit and aim of both were for adherence to pure Islam. He was the main guiding source for Muslims after the decline of Islamic rule in Indian subcontinent. Contrary to the commonly viewed Sufi tradition he was not receptive to the spiritual tradition of local Hindus in any form. His main spiritual concerns if any was for revival of Islamic India.  

The Muslim ruler under the influence of the doctrine of Shah Wali Ullah patronised Islamic learning and "took away the administrative and economic power that had passed into the hands of Hindus" (Islamic Mysticism in India by Nagendra Kumar Singh, Page 185). "For Shah Wali Ullah, the decline of Mogul political power and the spiritual decadence of Indian Islam were closely related "(The Sufi Orders in Islam by J. Spencer Trimingham, Oxford, 1971, Page 196). 

 Sayyid Ahmad Barelavi, a disciple of Abd al Aziz, (the son of Shah Wali Ullah) continued the tradition of Waliullah by synthesising the three major Sufi orders" (The Sufi orders in Islam by Spencer Trimingham, Oxford, 1971, Page 129). He launched armed jehad against the non-Muslims but was killed in the battle of Balkot against Sikh leader Ranjit Singh. Karamat Ali, a disciple of Sayed Ahmad Barelavi further developed the ideology for purifying Islam from the influences of Hindu custom and tradition. "His work largely paved the way for the establishment of the organisation which has more recently been developed under the name of Ahl-I-Hadith" (Indian Islam by Murray T Titus, 1979, Page 186). It was a neo-Sufi concept of Islam interpreted by Shah Wali-Ullah. 

 The leaders of Deoband movement were also under the influence of both Wali Ullah and Wahhab and accordingly they resisted against the British and were critical of Aligarh movement because of its leader Sir Sayed Ahmad being loyal to it. Protracted struggle with the concept of greater jehad was the basic creed of Deoband movement, which is a synthesis of Wahhab and Wali Ullah. Deobandis extreme austere approach towards Wahhab and harsh condemnation of the much popular practice of Sufism in India are being viewed as a totally anti-Sufi movement. Ahmad Riza Khan Barilavi(1856-1921), the founder of Barelavi movement was the defender of traditional Sufi movement but Mohammad Ilyas, a pietistic missionary group though, appropriated the ethical emphasis of Sufism rejected its ritual, metaphysics and sainthood (M.A.Haq - The Faith Movement of Maulana Ilyas, London, 1972 - Quoted from Encyclopaedia of Islam Vol. X, page 336). 

Sufi during British Rule:

Sufi movement became dormant with the decline of Muslim power in India. With the failure of armed resistance against the British and Sikh- Hindu combined, the followers of hard line Sufism were forced to adjust with the ground reality of non-Muslim occupation of Indian subcontinent but did not reconcile with it. The failure of Sepoy mutiny and consolidation of British power in Indian subcontinent was a further jolt on the radical Islamists but all the Islamic revivalist movements like Deoband, Aligarh and Pakistan drew their inspirations from the anti Hindu syndrome of Sufi saints like Sirhind and Shah Wal Ullah.  Khilafat movement and subsequent Pakistan movement were the outcome of the jehadi interpretation of Walli Ullah brand of neo-Sufi jehad against the political domination of non-believers. The resistance of Muslims against the British and subsequently against the Indian National Congress was due to deep and hard line influence of Shah Wali Ullah over them.  

Before the failure of 1857 Sepoy mutiny Sir Sayed Ahmad Khan was a follower of the neo-Sufi cult of Shah Waliullah.. Elizabeth Syrriyeh (Sufis and Anti-Sufis, 1999) maintained that Syed Ahmad Khan gradually distanced himself fro Shah Wali ullah. But firmly rooted in the Indian Islamic mysticism he was deeply pained with the plight of Muslims after the collapse of Sepoy mutiny of 1857. He therefore, took up the challenge of modern education and transformed the revolutionary mystic ideology of Shah Wali Ullah for revitalisation of Islamic glory through western education. Had he distanced himself from Wali Ullah, he would not have initiated the two-nation theory on the line of this Sufi Islamist to promote the movement of Muslim separatism through his Aligarh movement.  

Sir Sayed?s philosophy was a synthesis of progressive and orthodox Islam. On one hand he favoured modern education on European pattern and on the other he supported Islamic orthodoxy for superior religious identity of Muslims. He reinterpreted the cultural heritage of Islam within the mystic ideological frame of Wali Ulla, His Aligarh movement was a tactical but a hidden alliance of the Muslims with British  under latter's sovereignty to revive the supremacy of Muslims. He advocated for free discussion on Islam but due to his communal obsession he did not strive hard to prove his point for the socio-religious integration of Indian society. His excluvist belief of Muslims' superiority was based on the mystic ideology of Wali Ullah. It was against the unity of Indian society. 

According to Allama Iqbal, "he (Wali Ullah) was the first Muslim to feel the urge for rethinking the whole system of Islam without in any way breaking away from its past" (The Sufi Orders in Islam by J. Spencer Trimingham, Oxford, 1971, Page 198). In fact Wali Ullah  and Abd al Wahhab recommended religiously approved jehad against unbelievers (non-Muslims) but rejected the commonly viewed difference between lesser jehad and greater jehad. "This physical armed struggle had commonly been termed 'lesser jihad' (al-jihad-al -asghar), the greater jihad (al-jihad-al akbar) being the struggle for the interior spiritualisation of individual battle waged against the base self rather than exterior armies" (Sufis and anti-Sufis by Elizabeth Surriyeh, 1999, Page 29).  

Iqbal was a known follower of Islamic mysticism of Qadiriyya order. He, synthesied the mystic ideology of Wali Ullah and the modern view on Islam of Sir Sayed Ahmad Khan and made his Islamic mystic approach completely subservient to political domination of the Muslims. Applying modern philosophy in his intellectual exploration of Sufism he gradually turned to an anti-Sufi philosopher. He said, "The present day Muslims prefer to roam about aimlessly in the dusty valleys of Hellenic -Persiam mysticism, which teaches us to shut our eyes to the hard reality around, and to fix our gaze on what it describes as 'Illuminations' a blue, red and yellow reality springing up from the cells of an overworked brain" (Sufis and anti-Sufis by Elizabeth Syrrieh, 1999). "Sufi shaikhs constituting a spiritual aristocracy, Iqbal appealed to Muslim youth to cast off the Sufi noose from their neck" (Ibid. Page133). For Iqbal Sufism was a formulation of Islamic Persianism. It was contrary to the purity of Arabic faith in its original version. His rejection of Sufism was influenced by Wahhabi movement of Saudi Arabia, which was more concerned with Islamic power following the decline of Muslim power in eighteenth century. 

CONCLUSION

The concept of Tawhid (Unity in God), which is the real formulation of Sufism suggests that Islamic mysticism has no difference with the formulations of other non-Islamic faiths about the oneness of God. On this basis Sufism became popular in India during the period of Muslim rule. But when the Sufis supported the Muslims in their political conflict with the Hindus and played important role in conversion of indigenous people to Islam, it gave birth to politicisation of religion, which generated communal tension between the two major religious communities. The movement for purifying Islam from extraneous influences, which was launched by the Sufis like Saikh Ahmad Sirhindi and Shah Wali Ullah was against the spiritual doctrine of 'Tawhid' (Unity in God). Creating a far-reaching impact on the psyche of Indian Muslims it continues to keep the Muslim mass away from the modern global changes. 

Sufism in India has commonly been viewed as a secular attempt for eternal quest of the soul for its direct experience of the ultimate Super power. For centuries the Hindus accepted Sufi shrines as symbol of communal harmony. A large number of them have been offering prayers in Sufi shrines without any reservation but this liberal gesture has not been reciprocated Muslims. 

Had Sufism as commonly been viewed as an attempt to adapt Islam in Hindu tradition, the philosophy of two-nation theory would not have emerged. The  Hindu revivalist movement like Arya Samaj was a reaction to politicisation of the doctrine of Sufism, which widened the gap of mistrust between the two major religious communities of South Asia. 

Contrary to the common perception that Sufism tried to unify the Hindu-Muslim spirituality for a communal harmony, the political Islamists of Sufi background used the doctrine of Tawhid to accelerate the process of Muslim separatism in Indian subcontinent. Their movements were the by-products of Sufi tradition of Islam. They were basically the mystics for the political domination of Islam activists. 

The basic creed of mystic movements is unity of God irrespective of religious connotation. Unity of God denotes social unity and universal brotherhood. But these political mystics not only divided the society on the basis of religion but their doctrine created a permanent Hindu-Muslim conflict in the region. The spirit of mysticism is to resolve any dilemma confronting the society. But Sufi movement failed to resolve confronting Hindu-Muslim dilemma in Indian society. In practice they launched a movement for systematic dehumanisation of Islam and negated the concept of Islamic spiritualism of Tawhid (Unity of God).  

 (Email:ramashray60@rediffmail.com)

Mysticism in Islam

A lecture delivered at the David M. Kennedy Center for International Studies, Brigham Young University, May 2003. © 2003 William C. Chittick

William C. Chittick

Whenever "Islam" is mentioned, we need to keep in mind that the word designates the religion of over one billion people, a religion that has been flourishing in much of Asia, Europe, and Africa for well over a thousand years and more recently in North America. We also need to remember that it is difficult to generalize about any religion. In this particular case, specialists have largely given up the old Orientalist habit of talking about Islam as if it were a single, clearly identifiable entity. They readily admit that we are in fact dealing with a multiplicity of phenomena, or, if you prefer, many Islams. In other words, to assert without qualification that "Islam believes this," or "Muslims do that," is misleading to say the least.

The fact that specialists are wary of generalizations in no way hinders the mistaken perception of most people in the West that there is a clearly defined something out there called "Islam." Politicians, ideologues, and the media constantly talk about Islam as if it were one, simple phenomenon, and it is obvious that they do so with their own agendas. If, however, we have any interest in understanding the relationship between current events and the Islamic tradition, we should never forget that Muslims have histories, cultural divergences, and differences in belief and practice every bit as complex as those of Christians.

The fact that I am talking not about "Islam" but about "Islamic mysticism" does not make the task any easier. The first problem arises because of the English word mysticism. Webster's Third provides three definitions. Most people nowadays, especially in the academic community, seem to understand the word in terms of the third of these, which is "vague speculation, belief without foundation." Mysticism commonly signifies mystification, madness, or mindless mush. The average hard-nosed American would likely agree with Bertrand Russell, who famously wrote a book called Mysticism and Logic. His point: You cannot be a mystic and a rational person at one and the same time.

I do not wish to deny that the word "mysticism" has an honorable pedigree and still retains something of its ancient meaning. Webster's gives the first meaning as "the experience of mystical union or direct communion with ultimate reality." Putting aside "mystical union," which begs the question, we are left with "the experience of direct communion with ultimate reality." Surely those who have any sympathy with religion would agree that religion, without some sort of communion with ultimate reality, would have nothing to distinguish it from a merely human construction. It would be an ideology, or a political agenda, or an illusion.

If we do take mysticism in the first meaning of the word, then it points to the origin of religion, the founding moment that is often called "revelation." What is it that drives a prophet, an avatar, or a buddha, if not the experience of direct communion with ultimate reality? The word mysticism in this sense also points to the goal of religion. Why does one engage in religious practice if one is not convinced that some sort of direct communion with ultimate reality is possible, if not in this life, then in the next?

In short, "mysticism," as I would prefer to understand it, stresses the fact that many religious people have been seriously and intimately engaged with ultimate reality, or, at the very least, that they have been engaged with a quest for communion with that reality. In this sense, the word does not imply "vague speculation" or "belief without foundation" unless, of course, one takes the position-- common enough these days--that there is no such thing as "ultimate reality." If that is one's belief, then the quest to achieve communion with a nonexistent entity is certainly stupid and misguided. Indeed, the "enlightened" position of the modern intellectual is often that of Freud: religion is a neurosis or a delusion. If you are religious, you are in fact mad.

So, unless we take our stand in atheism or agnosticism, we should agree that religion in any meaningful sense of the word has by definition something "mystical" about it. The experience of communion with ultimate reality lies at the foundation of religion, and the quest for such communion has always motivated the practice of religious people.

* * *

Let me now turn to mysticism in the context of Islam. Anyone who surveys the literature on Islamic civilization will quickly discover that a great deal has been written on the topic. Scholars have defined and described Islamic mysticism in many ways.1 Some of the earlier Orientalists went to great lengths in order to show that mysticism was alien to a harsh and sterile religion of the desert--that is, to Islam as they imagined it to be. They wanted to prove that any discussion of mystical topics in Islamic texts in fact derives from outside sources, such as Christianity, Zoroastrianism, Manichaeism, Buddhism, or Hinduism.

It is worth noting that modern-day "Islamism"—that is, ideological posturing and political activism in the name of Islam —agrees with the early Orientalists on the origins of Islamic mysticism. Despite the fact that the Islamists are harshly critical of Western scholarship, they adopt many of its positions. They love Western technological expertise along with its guns and bombs, and they also love the various political theories that justify totalitarian control. By claiming that mysticism derives from outside sources, they embrace the Orientalist myth of a harsh and sterile Islam and ignore the spiritual and intellectual heritage of their religion. They have focused all their efforts on turning people away from the Islamic tradition and establishing authoritarian regimes.2

In my own writings, I have always avoided the word "mysticism," partly because of its strong negative connotations. I prefer instead the word "Sufism," which has the advantage of deriving from Arabic and pertaining specifically to Islam. Nowadays, this word is rather well known in the West. In the United States, Rumi has recently been the best-selling poet, and every introduction to his poems points out his affiliation to the Sufi tradition. Health clubs and New Age centers teach "Sufi dancing" along with yoga and Zen meditation. At least the name is no longer strange in English, even if, in contrast to "mysticism," few people have any real idea as to what it might mean.

One of the problems with "mysticism" is that there is no corresponding word in the pre-modern Islamic languages. The modern usage of the word has everything to do with the history of the Christian tradition, but we should not ignore the fact that there are many basic differences of outlook between Christianity and Islam, not least in the case of "mysticism." We have a similar problem with the word "theology," which designates a discipline that has always played a central role in Christianity. Many historians have assumed that the Islamic discipline known as kalâm—a word that might better be translated as "dogmatic theology"—plays an exactly analogous role. In fact, kalâm's role in Islam has been much more limited than that of theology in Christianity. In the same way, Sufism has had a much more pervasive presence in the Islamic tradition than has mysticism in Christian civilization.

It is true that there are many parallels between Sufism and various teachings and practices associated with mysticism. Nonetheless, much that happens under the name of Sufism in the Islamic world would not be placed in the category of mysticism in the West. For example, the vast majority of people who have engaged in the practice of Sufism would not be "mystics" in the current sense of this word. A mystic is typically understood as someone who undergoes supranormal or perhaps "extrasensory" experiences. In contrast, most so-called "Sufis" are ordinary Muslims who happen to be more serious about the practice of their religion than others.

What then is Sufism? There is no simple answer. It is certainly not a sect within Islam. It has nothing to do with the two major denominations, Sunnism and Shi'ism, since it has been found in both from earliest times. Both men and women and women engage in Sufi practice, and it is common for some members of a single family to be Sufis, and for others not to be. A husband may be a Sufi, while his wife may not, or vice versa. Certainly, not every Muslim is a Sufi, but Sufism has been present wherever there have been sizable Muslim populations. This is especially obvious from about the thirteenth century, when clearly defined institutions associated with the word came to be established.3

It is, in short, extremely difficult if not impossible to draw a clear distinction between Sufis and other Muslims. Even if we take an anthropological perspective and say that a Sufi is someone who says that he is a Sufi, we may find that for historical or political reasons the word itself is not employed by people who would be called Sufis by most other definitions of the term.

The original Arabic word, sûfî ("one who wears wool"), does not offer much help in clarifying the meaning, since it simply suggests that some early Muslims had an ascetic tendency. In fact the word has been controversial since it first came to be used in the eighth century (the second century of Islam). Moreover, many other words have also been used to designate the same teachings and practices, such as "poverty" (faqr) and "gnosis" (ma`rifa). Historically, it is not at all clear why Sufism rather than some other word should have become the general designation.4

Instead of trying to provide an exact definition, it seems best simply to say that Sufism is a specific approach to Islamic learning and practice that has been found among Muslims everywhere. Having said that, I can now describe a few of the characteristics that differentiate the Sufi approach from other approaches. It should be kept in mind, however, that I am generalizing. I am talking about family resemblances in a host of phenomena. My remarks will not necessarily apply to any given historical or cultural situation.5

* * *

We need to begin by looking in broad outline at the teachings established by the Koran (the book received from God by Muhammad) and the Sunnah (the practices and sayings of Muhammad). As soon as we do so, we can see that, like any great religion, Islam addresses three primary domains of human concern. These can be called body, mind, and spirit; or doing, knowing, and being. The body is the realm of activity, ritual observance, and social relationships. The mind is the realm of perceiving, believing, knowing, and understanding. The spirit is the realm of the deepest awareness of self and of direct communion with ultimate reality, which is God, or true and real Being.

The Koran is perhaps unique among the world's scriptures in the degree to which it stresses the importance of knowledge and understanding. Many sayings of Muhammad confirm the importance of knowing things correctly. Because of this stress on knowledge, Islamic civilization has been marked by a high level of learning and scholarship. From the beginning it was an enormously bookish culture. This is one of the main points of the classic study by the great Orientalist Franz Rosenthal of Yale: Knowledge Triumphant: The Concept of Knowledge in Medieval Islam.

As Islamic civilization developed, many Muslims devoted themselves to the pursuit of knowledge. These Muslims were not priests or ministers, since Islam has no priestly class. They were simply people who took seriously the various Koranic and prophetic injunctions to seek knowledge, such as Muhammad's saying, "The search for knowledge is incumbent upon every Muslim, male and female."

Because of the devotion to knowledge and understanding, Muslims came to study and assimilate the sacred lore that was set down by the Koran and the Prophet with more and more attention to analysis, explanation, and systematization. Some people were interested in learning everything that there is to know about the proper way of dealing with the body—that is, personal, social, and ritual activities. What exactly does the Koran command people to do? How exactly did Muhammad put the Koranic commandments into practice? How does one perform the so-called "five pillars" of the religion—uttering the declaration of faith, performing the daily prayers, paying the alms-tax, fasting in the month of Ramadan, and making the pilgrimage to Mecca? What is the correct way to go to the toilet, to wash oneself, to eat one's meals? What are the proper rules for interpersonal activities, marriage, inheritance, trade? The moment one takes seriously the Koranic revelation and its embodiment in the Prophet, all these questions need to be asked and answered. But, notice that all of them are connected with proper activity. They focus on what the body does.

Other Muslims were much more concerned with how to understand the objects of faith, which the Koran designates as God, the angels, the scriptures, the prophets, the Last Day, and divine providence. Muslims who focused on understanding these objects held that a person's faith depends upon knowledge. The claim of an ignorant person to believe in God is simply ignorance. No one can believe in God without knowing who God is and what his reality entails. By the same token, no one can claim to believe in the other objects of faith without knowledge. What exactly are "angels" that Muslims should have faith in them? What exactly are prophets, scriptures, and the Last Day? Having faith in any of these depends upon knowledge, and achieving sound knowledge of such realities is not easy. All those who want to achieve adequate understanding in Islamic terms must dedicate themselves to the study of God's self-revelation in both the Koran and in the words of the Prophet. Learning and knowledge are essential.

Still other groups of Muslims focused their attention not primarily on activity or understanding, but on developing the love, generosity, nobility, justice, and sincerity that are commanded by the Koran and typified by Muhammad's relationship with God and with other people. For these Muslims, the basic question was this: "How can one become a good person?" How can one develop all the beautiful character traits and virtues that were found in Muhammad and the other prophets of God and in God's special friends?

One might ask why most Muslim scholars became specialists in one of these domains rather than attempting to encompass all three. First of all, generally they did try to encompass all three domains, but actually doing so was beyond the capacity of most, though there are many exceptions. Scholars usually ended up being a lot more informed about one of these domains than the other two. Specialization, after all, is a general characteristic of all those who want to know something completely and thoroughly. Each of the three domains of Islamic knowledge—proper human activity, correct understanding of God and the world, and the actualization of virtue and goodness—can be unpacked and analyzed without end.

There is a second reason for specialization that is perhaps even more telling: People have natural aptitudes, personal inclinations, and mental limitations. The fact that someone may have a gift for football does not mean that he will necessarily be good at mathematics, or painting, or music. The fact that someone may have a great aptitude for understanding religious law—for deriving proper rules and regulations from revealed injunctions and principles—does not in any way imply that he will also have an aptitude for theology, or that he will necessarily attempt to become a better and more virtuous person.

What I am saying is that from the very beginning of Islam, being a Muslim meant recognizing that the Koran and Muhammad provided the basic guidelines for bringing the body, the soul, and the spirit into conformity with the divine purpose in creating the world. However, people differed among themselves as to which guidelines were the most important and how they should put into practice. Some Muslims were naturally inclined to place their first priority in the body, others felt that they should focus their attention on the mind and expand their understanding of God and his creation, and still others held that the whole point of human existence was to harness the body and the mind in order to strengthen the spirit and to achieve communion with ultimate reality.

Specialization in Islamic learning did not become obvious until about the ninth century (the third Islamic century). Before that time, most scholars were interested more in transmitting all the lore received from God and Muhammad, often classified according to category. Little by little, however, scholars who dedicated most of their efforts to providing the guidelines for proper activity came to be known as "jurists" (fuqahâ'). They busied themselves with understanding the principles and rules of proper Islamic activity on the basis of the Koran, the sayings and activity of the Prophet, the opinions of the Prophet's companions, and the views of learned Muslims of earlier generations.

Scholars who focused on understanding the objects of faith became differentiated into several schools of thought. The dogmatic theologians (the authorities in kalâm) said that the best way to understand God is by rational interpretation of the Koran. The philosophers (falâsifa) held that human reason is a sufficient guide to the truth of things and that divine revelation may not be indispensable for understanding that truth. The Sufis maintained that the best and most reliable path to correct understanding was by direct communion with God.

Scholars associated with Sufism developed a distinctive methodology. With good reason, their approach has often been called "mystical." Webster's second definition of mysticism tells us that it can mean "the doctrine or belief that direct knowledge of God, of spiritual truth, or ultimate reality. . . is attainable through immediate intuition, insight, or illumination and in a way differing from ordinary sense perception or ratiocination." This doctrine is certainly characteristic of the Sufi approach to understanding God and the world. However, they held that this direct knowledge —which they typically called "unveiling" (kashf)—must be rooted in the Koran and the Sunnah of Muhammad. Many of them also had a good deal of respect for the various rational approaches to knowledge. They maintained, however, that despite the opinions of the philosophers, reason alone is not sufficient to attain knowledge of God, and despite the opinions of the theologians, a merely rational understanding of the Koran is also inadequate.

In short, Muslim scholars who focused their energies on understanding the normative guidelines for the body came to be known as jurists, and those who held that the most important task was to train the mind in achieving correct understanding came to be divided into three main schools of thought--theology, philosophy, and Sufism. This leaves us with the third domain of human existence, the spirit. Most Muslims who devoted their major efforts to developing the spiritual dimensions of the human person came to be known as Sufis. They taught that people must attune their intentions, their love, and their sincerity to the divine will. Those who came to be recognized as having achieved this goal became the Sufi teachers. In effect, they functioned as spiritual therapists and depth psychologists for the Muslim populations. But, unlike modern psychologists, they were not interested in pathology but rather in healthy and sound human souls who needed assistance in achieving communion with ultimate reality.

* * *

One way to understand Sufism and the manner in which it has been differentiated from other approaches to Islamic learning is to look at the Sufi understanding of the human role in creation. Like Jews and Christians, Muslims in general believe that human beings were created in the image of God. Islam does not have a concept of original sin, but Muslims do maintain that Adam slipped and fell from the Garden because he was forgetful of God. Forgetfulness is the general failing of all of his children. It clouds the original brightness of the human soul, made in the divine image. Nonetheless, human beings have the potential to become brilliant mirrors reflecting the divine reality. They can do so if they follow the guidance of a prophet, Muhammad in particular. The proper role of human beings in the universe is to actualize the divine image and become God's representatives on earth. People can do so by "submitting" and "surrendering" to God (islâm) and by acting as God's "servants" (`abd). Once they become perfect servants, God may then choose to make them his "vicegerents" (khalîfa).

The jurists defined service of God and submission to him in terms of proper activity. The theologians, philosophers, and Sufis held that proper activity depends upon right understanding of God and the world. The Sufis added, however, that proper activity and correct beliefs must be perfected and completed by direct communion with God. Only such communion can actualize the divine qualities latent in the soul and bring about the appropriate manifestation of these qualities in society and the world.

The qualities that define the human image of God are much discussed by Muslim scholars and theologians. They are commonly called the "most beautiful names of God" and are typically said to number ninety-nine. They include knowledge, awareness, power, speech, creativity, compassion, love, justice, forgiveness, generosity, and so on. According to the Sufi teachers, people must actualize these divine qualities in themselves by serving God with their bodies, knowing him with their minds, and loving him in their spirits.

In the pursuit of knowledge, Muslim jurists wanted to discover the right way to perform every activity. Theologians tried to prove rationally the correctness of the Koranic teachings about God, the prophets, and the Last Day. Philosophers strove to develop their minds and actualize intelligence and virtue with the help of methods and tools largely derived from the Greek tradition. Sufis maintained that the only reliable way to actualize the self, gain awareness of God, and become a good person was to subordinate rational thought to prophetic guidance and to find God's names and qualities within one's own spirit.

The Sufis took Muhammad as their model. He gained knowledge and self-realization not by studying books or by going to school, but by devoting himself to God. Once he had done so, God taught him the Koran. Of course, the Sufis all agreed that Muhammad is the last prophet. They were not striving to receive new revealed books, but rather to actualize their understanding of what they considered the final and most perfect revealed book, that is, the Koran.

The Sufis saw the Prophet's career as marked by two grand events: the descent of the Koran, and the ascent of Muhammad to God. Muhammad's career as a prophet began when God sent the Koran down upon him by means of the angel Gabriel. When Muhammad had fully submitted himself to the revealed message, Gabriel took him up to meet God in a journey known as al-mi`râj ("the ladder").

Muhammad's ascent to God is referred to allusively in two passages of the Koran (17:1, 53:1 ff.). The details come down to us through Muhammad's accounts told to his companions. In brief, Gabriel came to Muhammad one night and took him in a flash to Jerusalem. In Jerusalem, at the spot that is now marked by the Dome of the Rock, Muhammad met all 124,000 prophets from the time of Adam down to Jesus and led them in prayer. Gabriel then took Muhammad up through the celestial spheres, in each of which he visited one of the prophets and various angels. He was also given a tour of hell and paradise. Finally, Gabriel could lead him no further, so Muhammad had to ascend on his own to meet God.

After coming back to Mecca, Muhammad told his companions about his journey. They asked him if he had brought them anything from God. He replied that he had, and then instructed them in the performance of the five daily prayers, which God had sent for the community. Hence the daily prayers, which are the most basic of all Muslim rites, are closely associated with the journey to God. When the companions asked the Prophet if they also could travel to God, he replied, "The daily prayer is the ladder of the believer" (al-salât mi`râj al-mu'min). In other words, it is the daily prayer that establishes "direct communion with God," whether or not the believer is aware of God's presence. The Koran says, after all, that God "is with you wherever you are" (57:4). It is through the prayer that people can come to experience and realize their intimate connection with the divine.

It is obvious that the descent of the Koran to Muhammad is the founding event of Islam, but it is not so obvious that Muhammad's ascent to God is the culmination of the Koran's descent. By sending down the Koran, ultimate reality communicated with human beings, but the meaning of that communication does not become clear until we understand that its concrete fruit was Muhammad's ascent to God. By taking the initiative and sending the Koran by means of Gabriel, God communicated with human beings and established the means of achieving communion with him. By ascending to God with Gabriel's guidance, Muhammad demonstrated the ultimate nature of that communion, which is accessible to all human beings in the depths of their spirit and after death.

Just as the descent of the Koran from God demonstrates to Muslims the divine origin of the book and the truth of the message, so also Muhammad's ascent to God verifies the goal of the message and shows the fruit of putting its guidelines into practice. The Koran descended so that people can ascend. By submitting to the Koranic message and following Muhammad, people can achieve their proper status in creation, which is to be simultaneously God's servants and his vicegerents.

Among the various approaches that Muslims took to their religion, the Sufi approach was most concerned with imitating Muhammad by ascending to God in this life. Other Muslims maintained that the meeting with God promised in the Koran was reserved for the afterworld. In general, the Sufis criticized the juridical approach because of the all too common idea that correct bodily activity is sufficient to make someone a good Muslim. They criticized the theological and philosophical approaches whenever these implied that one can understand God and the world adequately by the mere exercise of the rational mind. They held that the best way to understand God, the world, and oneself was to search for God in one's own spirit. To do so, one had to empty oneself of illusions and to make room for God in the heart. Egotism, pride, and worldly ambition obscure the divine image. One must "polish the mirror of the heart" by overcoming one's own desires and making way for God's desires. One does so not by conforming to the expectations of family and society or by becoming learned, but by following the dictates of God and his Messenger with full sincerity and total love.

Sufis were differentiated from ordinary Muslims not so much by what they did, but rather by their single-minded dedication to actualizing their spirits and living in the presence of God. One of the most characteristic methods they employed in the attempt to keep God constantly in mind is known as "the remembrance of God" (dhikr Allâh). They held that anyone who can forget himself and remember God will overcome the forgetfulness inherited from Adam. Then one will be given access to spiritual reality and real being, just as Muhammad was given access to them.

The actual practice of dhikr or "remembrance"—a word that also means "mention" —takes diverse forms. The Koran refers to itself as dhikr and it commands people to remember God by reciting its verses. Many Muslims, Sufis included, placed great emphasis on regular recitation of the holy book. The Koran also calls the daily prayer by the name dhikr, and this is another reason for the central importance of the prayer for all Muslims. Several Koranic verses specifically command the believers to remember and mention God's name. Many formulae for remembering God's name are in fact employed on a daily basis in Islamic languages. For example, the phrase al-hamdu Lillâh, "Praise belongs to God," is typically recited to show gratitude after meals and on other occasions. The Sufi teachers made the remembrance of God a methodical practice. They had many Koranic verses and sayings of the Prophet to support their position. Among these is Muhammad's advice to a companion who asked him how he could worship God while working in the fields: "Keep your tongue moist with the remembrance of God."

As the Islam tradition expanded and developed, a variety of techniques and methods were employed to focus the mind and spirit on God. One of these was listening to the recitation of appropriate poetry, often accompanied by music. By the ninth century, music and various forms of rhythmic bodily movement were being employed to aid concentration on God's name. Many Sufi teachers, however, felt that the ecstatic states that music sometimes induced could become an end in themselves. Too many people were concentrating on their own pleasure rather than on pleasing God. Such teachers forbade their disciples from listening to music. Other teachers felt that the advantages of listening to music outweighed the disadvantages. One form of listening to music was codified by the followers of Rumi. It is this that came to be known in the West as "the dance of the whirling dervishes." Even among Rumi's followers, however, this dance has played a relatively minor role.

This then is an extremely brief account of the Sufi approach to Islamic teachings and practices. It needs to be kept in mind that in Islamic history, Sufism came to be associated with many thousands of teachers, numerous institutions, and a vast literature. On the level of historical actuality we find tremendous variety, local understandings, individual preferences, and a great deal of disagreement as to appropriate practices, beliefs, and methods of realization. Nonetheless, if we want to say that there is a common thread tying all of this together, we will not be far from the mark if we call it "the quest for direct communion with ultimate reality."


NOTES

1 For an excellent overview of the teachings and literature of Sufism, see Annemarie Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1975). For a more historical approach, see Alexander Knysh, Islamic Mysticism: A Short History (Leiden: Brill, 2000). For a thematic approach, see W. C. Chittick, Sufism: A Short Introduction (Oxford: Oneworld: 2000).
2 For a fine analysis of the thoroughly modern approach of the Islamists and their rejection of traditional Islamic thinking, see the works of Khalid M. Abou El-Fadl, especially And God Knows The Soldiers: The Authoritative and Authoritarian in Islamic Discourses (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 2001).
3 These institutions were commonly called tarîqa, "path," a word that is usually translated as "order" on the analogy of monastic orders (though celibacy is practically unknown in Islam). See, for example. J. S. Trimingham, The Sufi Orders in Islam (Oxford: University Press, 1971).
4 Carl Ernst argues convincingly that the current preference for the word "Sufism" has much to do with the nineteenth-century perception of Islam by British Orientalists. See his Shambhala Guide to Sufism (Boston: Shambhala, 1997).
5 For a detailed version of this analysis of Sufism's role in the Islamic tradition, see Sachiko Murata and W. C. Chittick, The Vision of Islam (New York: Paragon, 1994).




About Sufi Women Organization

The Sufi Women Organization, founded by Dr. Nahid Angha and with the efforts and contributions of Sufi women from around the globe, was established in 1993 under the auspices of the International Association of Sufism. A forum for all Sufi women, it has been tremendously successful in gathering together women from diverse cultural backgrounds who share a dedication to the goals of Sufism, especially with respect to human rights. Our primary humanitarian goals include women's rights, education, and social awareness. The devotion of all who have volunteered their time, energy and expertise have led to substantial achievements:

Achievements

  • opening lines of communications among Sufi women from many different schools throughout the world

  • bringing the influence and the leadership of Sufi women into the traditional Sufi gatherings
  • taking active and leadership roles within the global community through interfaith organizations, Amnesty International, Habitats for Humanity, UNICEF, UNESCO, and the United Nations
  • working with diverse community services programs including Women's Wisdom, Women in Action educational conference series, Prison Project, Literacy Program, and more
  • providing classes and meditation series for Sufi women
    introducing Sufi women's accomplishments in art, literature, poetry, teachings, and practices in publications distributed internationally and through the SWO Quarterly Newsletter, Luncheon Programs, and annual Sufism Symposium meeting
  • establishing an electronic mail news group and web site to facilitate sharing among Sufi women
  • creating a forum for exchanging ideas, traditions and teachings among Sufi women from different orders and cultures .

 

Contact

Address and Phone Number:
Sufi Women Organization
14 Commercial Blvd., Suite 101
Novato, California 94949 USA
Tel: +1 415 382 SUFI (7834)

Email:
General Inquiries: info@sufiwomen.org
Membership Information: membership@sufiwomen.org
Event Inquiries: events@sufiwomen.org
Website Inquiries: webmaster@sufiwomen.org

Women in Islam


by Seyyedeh Dr. Nahid Angha

The following article is taken from the journal Sufism: An Inquiry.

In the west, the common picture of a Muslim woman is the stereotype of a woman hidden behind a veil, a voiceless, silent figure, bereft of rights. It is a picture familiar to all of us, in large part because this is invariably how the western media portrays women in Islam.

Islam covers many lands with many diverse cultures. From the borders of Arabia to the coasts of Africa, from Bosnia to Indonesia, large groups of people practice Islam. Islam is growing in European and American countries. Each one of these Islamic nations has its own distinct culture; there is a great diversity of cultures within Islam. One cannot bring all these cultures, political systems, national heritage, belief systems, geographical locations, historical backgrounds, and the peoples who embody them under one uniform category or think of them as one system. Islam is practiced in each nation according to those nations characteristics. And nations are, by existing as nations, distinct and different from one another. No two cultures are alike.

photoConceptual Issues
Nations in the Middle East, among many other Muslim countries, have long been notorious for their unequal treatment of women especially among the Western nations. Catching a glimpse of a special on Middle Eastern women while channel surfing or reading from the Middle Eastern chapter in history books is the furthest most people have gone to research the role of women in Islam. Images of submissive, timid women covered in black veils are there to be found -- and, with such a unanimity of popular information, what point could there be in understanding the subject more thoroughly? What I will provide here is just an outline, a brief summary, as Islam is, in fact, more than just a name, a religion, a social movement. It is recognizing the essence of Divine permeating all there is; it is timeless, priceless, beyond cultures, traditions, and all human limitations. There are few scholars who have described women in Islam without prejudice or some inclination towards either side of the extreme. In order to understand the role of women in Islam and to learn how the rules of Islam apply to them, we need to become familiar with Islam, apart from politics practiced in Muslim nations, and to examine the place of women in the pre-Islamic era, the rules and regulations of Islam, and the cultural backgrounds of the countries that are the base of our research, and finally to compare the position of women in the Muslim world with the position of women in western cultures.

Position of Women Before the Advent of Islam
Islam was born in the Arabia Peninsula, now Saudi Arabia, in the seventh century AD. The pre-Islamic era dates back to more than 1400 years ago. Many cultures, nations and countries, other than Arabia, existed during that time. Let's begin with a review on the Arabian culture. In that era, in the tribal culture of Arabs, women were not equal to men with respect to many social and personal conditions and systems, such as marriage, inheritance or education, among other areas. Women did not have businesses, own property, or have independent legal rights. Even though we read about Khadijeh (who later became a wife of the Prophet (swa), and the first Muslim woman) who owned her own business, which is an indication that there are always exceptions in any recorded history. In Arabia, female infants were often abandoned or buried alive; and the practice of polygamy was common. The position of women, in countries other than Arabia, in the 7th century, was not much different. In Europe, it was not until the turn of the century (13 centuries later) that French women became legally able to sell property without the permission of their husbands. In many nations, sons would inherit the name, wealth and position of the family and daughters were hoped to marry rich. In many western or eastern countries, women could not chose their husbands, and, widows were expected to mourn for their husbands until the end of their lives (still practiced in some countries).

Standards Set by Islam
One cannot emphasize enough the influence of the teachings of the Prophet (swa) and the verses of the Qur'an upon the advancement of civilization. In the history of humankind, none worked so much to protect human rights, especially women's, with such integrity, strength, strategic genius, beauty and divinity, or to honor humanity, by freeing it from the chains of prejudice, manipulations, personal and social injustice. His teachings regarding education, social and political rights, property rights, and ultimately human rights, are among the most valuable chapter in the book of civilization. Education: "The pursuit of knowledge is a duty of every Muslim, man and woman", said the Prophet (swa). With this instruction it became a religious duty of Muslims to educate themselves, their families, and their societies. Education and learning became a religious duty, no Muslim could prevent another human being from the pursuit of knowledge. Gender or race, culture or tradition could not become the cause for prohibiting a person from educating one's self. Pursuit of knowledge became a religious law, therefore necessary to attain. With such instruction, the Prophet (swa) not only created an equal right to education, but also opened the door to a better understanding.

Social and Political Rights

"Paradise lies under the feet of mothers", announced the Prophet (swa). With this instruction, a Divine law, it became a religious responsibility, a praiseworthy act, to respect and honor women. "Men are support for women," "Among the praiseworthy acts to Allah is to treat your mother with honor and respect," "Be just among your children, daughters and sons, provide them good education and proper upbringing." Narrated from the Prophet (swa). With these Divine laws, it became religious duty for every Muslim, male or female, to honor women, treat sons and daughters justly, and for male to provide support, not obstacles, for women and their achievements.

There are many recorded historical references that at the beginning of Islam, at the time of the Prophet (swa), Muslim men or women chose to join the Prophet's army to fight against his enemies, leading wars after his passing. There are also recorded in the history of Islam that men and women, equally, would take bayat (agreement) with the Prophet, voting and choosing him as a political leader. Such positions, rights and equality among all were the result of the support and the teachings of the Prophet (swa). Women could take part in social, political, and military affairs. The result of his teachings was not only promoted human rights but also encouraging individuals to stand for their own rights.

Fatima, daughter of the Prophet (swa), was well educated and highly respected. It is said that whenever Fatima entered the room, the Prophet would stand and give his seat to her. Her sacrifices to protect and support human rights were among the most praiseworthy acts.

Property Rights
Under the laws of Islam, women have obtained the right to sell and buy properties, own business, take legal actions, vote, and participate in political affairs. Inheritance law was/is also among the most important rights. According to Islam, a woman inherits, half the share of her brother. At the same time a daughter, can chose but has no the obligation to support her parents or children, while her brother does. A man, a brother, has the obligation, by the rules of Islam, to support his mother, wife, children, sisters, and the children of his sisters if necessary. If a woman, a mother, a sister did not have the wealth or the desire to support her children, it would become the duty of her brother to support them. The Prophet (swa) has introduced the rules and the laws for humanity, some honor the rules and some chose not to. Under Islamic law, women also have control not only over their property but also dowry claims. Once she is married, she may demand her dowry from her husband at any time, and in the case of divorce, she would receive her share of the property.

Marriage and the Right to Divorce
According to the laws of Islam a man and a woman have the right to choose their partner and they should not be forced into marriage. Fatima, the Prophet's daughter was educated, beautiful and respectful. It is narrated that when Amir al momenin Ali asked for Fatima's hand in marriage Prophet (swa) did not respond to Ali until he asked Fatima for her decision. Divorce is permitted in Islam under specific terms and conditions. According to the laws of Islam one may end a marriage by divorce if there is a definite cause for such an action.

Polygamy is a tradition practiced in many cultures, yet Islam restricted it by setting regulations. These regulations are very severe, and a very few can practice it. Quran (IV:3) reads: "If you feel that you will be able to deal justly with orphans, marry the women of your choice one, two, three, or four. But if you fear that you shall not be able to deal justly with them, then marry only one." The verse emphasize being just not only to the women but also to their children, who would, otherwise, remain fatherless after their mothers became widowed -- a frequent occurrence during the early centuries of Islam, when men were often killed in wars. "Deal justly" refers to equal treatment, not only emotionally but also financially. The particular historical context of polygamy in Islam followed one of the harshest wars, where many men were killed, leaving a multitude of women widowed, fatherless, and without support. Also a Muslim man cannot marry a second wife without the permission of the first wife. With all these restricted regulations, according to the Islamic law, polygamy is possible but rare in practice.

Post Islamic Expectations Set by Political Entities
A few centuries after the Prophet (swa) many of these rules changed into cultural, national, or political regulations.

Islam entered different cultures and each culture embraced it according to its own traditions. Even in its homeland, rules and regulations changed according to the political rulers and the traditional culture of the land within one or two centuries after the passing of the Prophet (swa). Let us examine a few of these changes: Prophet had said (Quran, XXIV:30, 31): "Tell believing men that they should lower their gaze and guard their modesty, that will make for greater purity for them and say to the believing women to lower their gaze and guard their modesty and they should not display their beauty and ornaments...." In the course of time, this law changed into the rule that women should wear veils, covering themselves from head to toe. Being modest changed into a dress code. Yet this dress code was not applied to the "believing men", and did not become a cause for their social or economical oppressions. Women, who at the beginning of Islam, were leading armies and making political decisions, were now, a few centuries later, expected to sit separately from men in mosques and in prayer ceremonies. A similar situation also obtain in non-Islamic countries. For example a century ago, when the World Anti-Slavery Association met in England, the women delegates were refused seats. They had to sit silently behind the curtain in the balcony. That, of course, led to Seneca Falls Convention that eventually gained a few rights for women such as becoming able to sell properties, the right to education, and the like. The Prophet instructed that women have the right to own property, to choose their own partners, and have equal rights to education. In accordance with prevailing culture, these rights became transformed into the duties of women to take care of children and remain in the house. This is not all that different than a century ago in America where women were expected the duties of "Republican Motherhood," which did not take them beyond the household sphere.

To justify the prejudice held against women, we can blame a religion, we can blame a culture, we can blame a system, and we can even blame women themselves. Yet these superficial "making you feel better" justifications will not remove the responsibility from generations of humanity. While it is true that the media misleads people, political leaders mislead people, and superficial ideology misleads people -- yet people remain in a state of being misled. The guilt of the oppressor is not lesser that the guilt of the oppressed, said the Prophet.

Islam is a religion where the standard for superiority is the level of ones knowledge, where human being was created in the best figure, and thus where advancing knowledge is a duty. According to Islam, the human being has the potentiality to ascend to the level of the Divine, knowledge of the law of the existence is the right of every human being.

Islam is a religion where your temple is not a building but your heart; your preacher is not a priest but your intellect; and if your religion is founded upon mere imitation, you are a blasphemer. In Islam, ignorance is an unforgivable sin, so is your evasion of responsibility for yourself as well as towards all the members of the living world, past and present. It is incorrect to blame such Islam for the shortcomings of its followers, which are the failings of most of mankind. A religion that is centered on the rights of human being, and sets both men and women free from the chains of bondage should not be used in propaganda for the sake of condemnation.

It is not Muslim women as such, but women everywhere who have been imprisoned by prejudice and cruelty. This form of prejudice that goes beyond simple racial or national boundaries, is sexual in nature. Whether women are constantly being held to an impossible standard, or subject to discrimination solely based on the fact that they are not equal to men, they are, by far, the group most affected by this form of prejudice. Depending on the society women may be seen as having the wrong weight, the wrong height, the wrong level of intelligence, or the wrong religion. We can conclude that women have yet to be welcomed with open arms into countries that they have been a part of from the beginning. True equality becomes a characteristic of Utopia and seems almost impossible to achieve in the society in which we live in. The question that remains is one of personal morals. Do we, as small pieces of society, have the capacity to interlock and form a beautiful mosaic? I have to say it takes more than just a few to fulfill a dream that is centuries old.

http://www.sufiwomen.org/articles/islam.html

© Dr. Nahid Angha. All Rights Reserved.

Mysticism in world religions and Poetry often conveys Enlightenment and Wisdom


  The World's Poets and Mystics have had access to quite amazing realms of perception that are usually denied to more conventional persons

 The Poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And, as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the Poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.

William Shakespeare


 Poets are all who love, who feel great truths,
and tell them: and the truth of truths is love.

Philip James Bailey

 But words are things, and a small drop of ink,
Falling, like dew, upon a thought, produces
That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.

Lord Byron


  Shakespeare and Byron are obviously world renowned Poets. There are also Mystics, from several world faiths, who enjoy immense reputations amongst those who are knowledgable about their amazing insights.


  One such Mystic is Thomas a Kempis author a work entitled "Of the Imitation of Christ".

  The following is an example of the spiritually impact-FULL quotations that are to be found in this celebrated work.




 To the humble He revealeth His secrets, and sweetly draweth and inviteth him to Himself.
 The humble man, having received reproach, maintaineth himself well enough in peace, because he is fixed in God and not in the world.
 Never think that thou hast made any progress till thou look upon thyself as inferior to all.

Of the Imitation of Christ Bk. 3, Ch. 4, v. 4

 

 

  The following few examples convey something of the way that ALL the world faiths maintain that Enlightenment is not "intellectual".
 
 

Christianity
 This I say therefore, and testify in the Lord, that ye henceforth walk not as other Gentiles walk, in the vanity of their mind. Having the understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that is in them, because of the blindness of their heart:

St. Paul
Ephesians 4:17-18

Islam

 Would he had been less full of borrowed knowledge! Then he would have accepted inspired knowledge from his father. When, with inspiration at hand, you seek book-learning, Your heart, as if inspired, loads you with reproach. Traditional knowledge, when inspiration is available, Is like making ablutions in sand when water is near. Make yourself ignorant, be submissive, and then You will obtain release from your ignorance.

Masnavi
Book 4 Story 2


Judaism

 Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths. Be not wise in thine own eyes: fear the LORD, and depart from evil. It shall be health to thy navel, and marrow to thy bones.

Book of Proverbs 3:5-8

Taoism

  It was the time of the autumn floods. Every stream poured into the river, which swelled in its turbid course. The banks receded so far from one another that it was impossible to tell a cow from a horse. Then the Spirit of the River laughed for joy that all the beauty of the earth was gathered to himself. Down the stream he journeyed east, until he reached the ocean. There, looking eastwards and seeing no limit to the waves, his countenance changed. As he gazed over the expanse, he sighed and said to the Spirit of the Ocean, "A vulgar proverb says that he who has heard but part of the truth thinks no one equal to himself. And such a one am I". "When formerly I heard people detracting from the learning of Confucius or underrating the heroism of Poh I, I did not believe. But now that I have looked upon your inexhaustibility - alas for me had I not reached your abode, I should have been for ever a laughing-stock of those of comprehensive enlightenment".

Zen Buddhism

  A University Professor went to see Nan-in, a Zen Master, to find out more about Zen.
  As their meeting continued Nan-in was pouring Tea and continued to pour even though the cup was overflowing.
  The Professor cried. "Enough! No more will go in!"
  Nan-in replied "Like this cup you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?"

  The insights of those who are adept in mysticism or poetry - "The Sage" - are REALLY important.

  Find out more by reading some introductory famous, inspirational and familiar quotations...


Psychological Healing in the Roman Catholic Mystic Tradition

Self-help

The Way of the Cross

Living a devout Christian life, in general, does not require any great intellectual skills. Christ, after all, had no need for Plato and Aristotle in order to preach his sermons. True religion is a matter of heart and will, not of reason. And, for that matter, that’s why Christ preached in parables.

In the Parable of the Sower (Matthew 13:1-9; Mark 4:1-9; Luke 8:4-8), Christ poignantly described what would happen to the very Word he preached.

Some persons, because of indifference, ingratitude, and contempt, reject the Word even as they hear it and refuse to believe. Their hearts are like hard rock.

 

Some persons accept the Word intellectually and think they believe. But when trials afflict them they fly into a panic, abandon patience and prayer, and attempt to get satisfaction and revenge with their own hands—all because they have not set the roots of faith deep into their heart and will.

 

Some persons accept the Word in faith but then allow the attractions of the world to overgrow their lives and choke out the fruits of faith.

Christ also spoke about the Parable of the Weeds among the Wheat (Matthew 13:24-30), in which he described how evildoers and those who cause others to sin will co-exist with the faithful until the final judgment.

So in today’s world—filled as it is with anti-Christian lore and soaked in impiety and heresy—you need to apply yourself to some serious study and prayer in order to disentangle the truth from all the lies that have been sown over centuries of disobedient self-indulgence—lest you end up in the fire with all the weeds. 

Therefore, anyone who claims that being a Christian in today’s world is “easy” has sadly failed to understand a basic point about Christianity: the world hates true Christianity because Christ places restrictions on the world’s narcissistic self-enjoyment.

The preacher of God’s truth has told us that all who want to live righteously in Christ will suffer persecution. If he spoke the truth and did not lie, the only exception to this general statement is, I think, the person who either neglects, or does not know how, to live temperately, justly and righteously in this world.
 
May you never be numbered among those whose house is peaceful, quiet and free from care; those on whom the Lord’s chastisement does not descend; those who live out their days in prosperity, and in the twinkling of an eye will go down to hell.

—From a letter by Saint Raymond, priest
(Office of Readings, January 7:
Raymond of Penyafort, Priest)

And, I will add, there are many bishops and priests in the world today who, in the twinkling of an eye, will go down to hell simply because they have neglected Christ’s command to “feed my sheep” and have instead been feeding his sheep to the wolves.

But do you really need a psychologist to teach you how to live a Christian spiritual life? The truth is, you don’t. Both Saint John of the Cross and Saint Teresa of Avila had uncanny psychological insight into the workings of the mind and heart, and yet neither had any formal training in psychology, because psychology didn’t even exist as a science in their time.

This just goes to show that genuine mystic spirituality ultimately leads to accurate psychological insight. And it also shows that those who write or preach about spirituality while misunderstanding psychology—as in advocating a sentimental desire for happiness and self-fulfillment—don’t really understand mysticism.

Anyone who prays humbly and sincerely and in good faith will be given what is needed. Although a good Catholic psychologist can help you see your blind spots and can help you interpret your dreams, there is still much you can do on your own.

But if any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God who gives to all generously and ungrudgingly, and he will be given it. But he should ask in faith, not doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed about by the wind. For that person must not suppose that he will receive anything from the Lord, since he is a man of two minds, unstable in all his ways.

—James 1:5–8

But what, in modern language, does it mean to ask while doubting?

Well, imagine that once you choose to live a devout spiritual life you step onto a path that leads out of the city and right to your own crucifixion. You have to walk out knowing you will never come back. If you turn back, there is nothing but hell. And if you begin to doubt and hesitate and look to the world to entertain you along the way, rest assured that the cross won’t come to get you—but the devil himself will soon show up, wearing a nice tuxedo, holding the door to his limousine, just for you.

 
Sacrifice, Obedience, and Prayer

Many persons come to a psychologist complaining of the pain they suffer at the hands of another. My friends neglect me. Lovers abuse me. My husband is unfaithful. My wife is critical. My children are disobedient. And most of them balk when they hear that the only way they can find genuine healing is to accept responsibility for their part in all the suffering around them.

Except for very young children abused by their parents (or other adults), there are no innocent victims in psychology. We all share responsibility for everything that happens around us. A wife may not have caused her husband to have an affair, but perhaps she dreaded the warning signs along the way and shrank back from doing anything about them. The teenage boy may not have caused his abusive father to beat him, but perhaps, in his anger over his mother’s divorce, he provoked his father with disobedience.

And so, whether through timidity or through provocation, we contribute to the suffering around us. And we don’t like it when someone shows us that fact.

But Christ showed it to us.

He showed it in his Body and Blood; the apostles proclaimed it; the mystics through the ages have confirmed it: If we want peace in our hearts, we cannot escape our responsibility to others around us. Remember My Passion, and if you do not believe My words, at least believe My wounds.

Christ himself took full responsibility for the world’s suffering by taking it all on himself. And he called us to do the same. And we crucified him for it.

Thus, for those who repent the fact that during his bitter Passion we all tore at his Body and Heart, only one trinitarian action can lead to genuine healing and peace: sacrifice, obedience, and prayer.

Sacrifice can also be referred to as suffering, or fasting. Fasting, in its literal sense, means to do without our accustomed food so that in feeling physical hunger we might recognize a spiritual hunger for holiness; suffering, in its literal sense, means to endure pain that we have done nothing to deserve. But, the broad sense of sacrifice means that we must give up what we don’t really need, so as to give to others what they do need. In other words, we must give up the psychological defenses that protect us from feeling unloved by the social world so that we can give true love to others. And so we must feel the pain of all the sins of the world, we must bear that pain patiently, and we must offer our suffering as our own daily “fasting” for the sake of all those souls who might turn back to God because of our constant sacrifices for them.

You shall accept all sufferings with love. Do not be afflicted if your heart often experiences repugnance and dislike for sacrifice. All its power rests in the will, and so these contrary feelings, far from lowering the value of sacrifice in My eyes, will enhance it.

—as told to Saint Faustina,
Diary, 1767

Obedience can also be thought of as our call to charity and mercy, for Christ himself, who in his love for us obediently died on a cross for our redemption, commanded us to love others as he has loved us.

Prayer refers to our unceasing communion with divine will. Because our lives belong to God, not to ourselves, we must dwell in God’s presence in every moment of our lives. We must pray constantly for God’s mercy, for nothing else in life has any enduring meaning. And we must pray for the repentance and conversion of anyone who injures or insults us, lest our lives remain stuck in bitterness and vengeance.

How to pray the Chaplet of The Divine Mercy

 
What You Can Do

I’ve seen it over and over again, in church and in my office: people are all smiles and devotional behavior on the surface, but once they are pushed the slightest bit against their own will they become very hostile, very quickly. For most people, love is just an intellectual concept—a surface scratch. So understand that love doesn’t get real until, as an expression of sacrifice, obedience, and prayer, it rips right into your heart. 

Many persons shopping for a spiritual life will inquire of the Catholic Church, “This wisdom and peace you offer—how much does it cost?”
    The reply is simple and straightforward. “Everything you have: All your heart, and all your soul, and all your mind, and all your strength.”
    They shake their heads. “No, that’s too expensive. We want something the ordinary person can afford.”
 

Read an excerpt from a writing about the martyrdom of love
by Saint Jane Frances de Chantal

 
Here’s what you can do, then, to discover real love:

Deny yourself.  Do what Christ told us all to do. Stop seeking your own pleasure and your own imaginary identity and follow the treatment counsels of Abstinence from defenses and Charity.

Learn to pray.  As you pare away worldly distractions, turn to prayer for true sustenance. But understand that unless you learn to surrender yourself totally, renounce your own desires, and follow the discipline of both vocal and mental prayer, the answers to your prayers will more likely be your own wish-fulfillment fantasies, not God’s will. Prayer is not something to be taken casually, or your own unconscious psychology will lead you astray.

Read.  Read and study as if your life depended on it, because it does. As you are learning to pray, begin reading the Imitation of Christ. Read it straight through once, quickly, but thereafter open it at random and read bits of it in depth, as a sort of daily guidance, while reading the other books, including the Bible.

Confess your sins.  Be careful, though, not to look just at the surface of things. For example, if you have troubling sexual temptations, you might confess merely that you have troubling sexual temptations. But if you study this website and realize that troubling sexual temptations are an unconscious, psychological way to comfort yourself when you feel weak or helpless or abandoned, then you can confess the real problem: that you are prone to “take matters into your own hands” when you feel weak or helpless or abandoned and that you avoid bringing your fears directly to God.

“I’m not a psychologist,” a priest will say. And well said; it’s a fact. And it’s also a sad excuse to hide the mistakes priests make in preaching and in directing the confessional process. The truth is, if more priests would deny themselves and live ascetic lives then perhaps they might receive the mystic gift of cardiognosis—the ability to “read” hearts—which can compensate for a lack of formal psychological training.

Understand humility.  Understand love. Understand that mystic Christianity is not a matter of knowledge for its own sake. It is not a matter of intellectual prowess or of philosophy. It is not a matter of arguing with others. It is not a matter of displaying your holiness for others to see and admire. It is not a matter of visions and ecstasies. It is simply a matter of emptiness of self and pure love. Holiness is measured not with “spiritual” feelings but with obedience.

To be taken with love for a soul, God does not look on its greatness, but on the greatness of its humility.

 

—St. John of the Cross
The Sayings of Light and Love, no. 103.

 

You can see visions, hear locutions, and pray in tongues, but what good are these things if they do not lead you into ever deeper humility and ever greater acts of suffering and self-sacrifice for the sake of mercy to others?

The Litany of Humility

See yourself, then, as a nobody. Put yourself at the service of all. Give all you have and be a living example of that divine grace and glory you most ardently desire. Feel the pain and the sadness of all the sin in the world around you, but do not pay attention to what others do—focus instead on your own yearning for humble purity of heart. For just as sin is the punishment of sin, love is the reward of love.

Above all the graces and all the gifts of the Holy Spirit which Christ grants to his friends, is the grace of overcoming oneself, and accepting willingly, out of love for Christ, all suffering, injury, discomfort and contempt; for in all other gifts of God we cannot glory, seeing they proceed not from ourselves but from God, according to the words of the Apostle, “What hast thou that thou hast not received from God? and if thou hast received it, why dost thou glory as if thou hadst not received it?” But in the cross of tribulation and affliction we may glory, because, as the Apostle says again, “I will not glory save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

 

The Little Flowers of St. Francis of Assisi
Chapter VII

 

Just realize, though, that none of this comes easily. If you pray, “Lord, increase my faith,” don’t expect God to magically anoint you with a large dose of faith. Instead, you will have affliction after affliction heaped upon your head, and as you graciously cope with it all through loving perseverance, you will emerge from the struggle to find that your faith has, indeed, increased.

It’s that simple—and that demanding. Which is why you will see so many “Christians” happily waving to you from their limos as they ride by.

 

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF MYSTICISM

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF MYSTICISM

NEXT in order after the object of mystical contemplation we have to consider the mode in which that contemplation takes place. We have seen that the presence of God may be made known to the mystical consciousness in three ways -- by formal union, by an intellectual impression, or species, with or without an imaginative representation or figure, and thirdly, by means of a representation of a sensible kind. The object of contemplation is unquestionably supernatural; but of what sort is the process, whether intellectual or physiological, by which the object is perceived? Is it also supernatural -- i.e., do the faculties of mind or body act in any other way or by any other principle than that in which or by which they are accustomed to act?

The subject is necessarily a somewhat obscure one, comparatively little being certainly known as to the nature of the mind's action, and of its relation to that of the senses. But some quite overwhelming evidence, such as does not seem to be either forthcoming or even conceivable, would be necessary to prove that either the mind or the body or both together can, under any circumstances in this world, act otherwise than according to the accustomed methods and principles, which in their general plan at least are well enough ascertained. We have already seen strong reason for considering the supernatural element of mysticism to consist mainly in its object; that element in the perceiving subject being no more than the illumination and assistance of the natural faculties by divine grace, and not their supersession by any new power or faculty, or by the addition of any otherwise unknown function to those already possessed by them. As in the ordinary operation of divine grace so in its exceptional operation, the natural faculties are indeed assisted and guided; but they continue to act according to the laws which they follow in the absence of any supernatural aid. The actions, both physical and intellectual, of a person under the influence of grace do not differ in kind from those of one who is outside that influence, and are open to precisely the same kind of investigation. Faith, for example, is not a sixth sense, or an extra intellectual faculty ; it is merely the action of the intellect and will directed towards a particular subject, and dealing with a particular set of evidences, and is in itself no more mysterious than other modes of voluntary and intellectual activity. On Christian principles, indeed, faith is held to be due to supernatural assistance by means of a divinely infused virtue; but the modus operandi is obviously by no means changed by that infusion; the force of motiva credibilitatis and the weight of divine authority are estimated by faith in the same way as similar evidence is estimated in purely secular matters.

The supernatural character of mysticism is, therefore, at least no bar to the investigation in a purely natural sense of the mental processes it may involve. Such enquiries as that of M. Delacroix, or of Professor W. James, whatever may be thought of their conclusions, are in no way excluded or discountenanced by acceptance of the supernatural explanation.

Dionysius, and later mystical writers, have not troubled themselves with any psychological theory in explanation of their experiences; they were, indeed, hardly in a position to do so. All that they were concerned with was to relate facts; though, naturally, they tended to relate them with so much attention to sequence and classification as to produce what is in effect a kind of theory, or système psychologique privilegié. But their accounts, though in some cases (of which St Teresa and St John of the Cross are the chief examples) they are perfectly systematic so far as they go,{1} do not address themselves to any consideration of the mode, whether partially natural or wholly supernatural, in which the supernatural effects are produced. So far as they are concerned, the divine modus operandi may be considered an open question.

Three different views have been held on this point.

1. It has been supposed that man is endowed with some kind of special faculty by which he is enabled both to know God as existing, and in the higher stages of spirituality to enter into direct personal relation with Him. This faculty has often been supposed to be a distinct element in human nature. The nous or spiritual part, which is designed exclusively for intercourse with the divine, is distinct from the psuche or intellect, which is concerned with created things -- both being distinct again from the animal nature in mankind.{2} This view, sometimes called trichotomy, has been condemned by the Church as put forward by the Apollinarian heretics, and again in recent times as held by Gunther; it was held in a professedly modified form by Occam, without explicit and authoritative condemnation, though with much opposition. Again, the supposed faculty is held to be an endowment or power of the one soul, co-ordinate with but distinguishable from its faculties of reason and will.

In both forms, however, this theory seems to be gratuitous; since on the one hand no powers are attributed to the supposed special faculty which are not in one way or another exercised by the intellect under ordinary circumstances; and on the other hand, there can be no reason for supposing that God is unable, if He so desires, to communicate directly with man through his natural intellect, without having to create a special faculty for the reception of divine communications.

2. Directly opposed to this view is another, which holds the supposed mystical communications to have no external source, but to be wholly subjective experiences, due to the automatic working of the subconscious or "subliminal" self.{3} Much apparently uncontrovertible evidence has been adduced to show that the field of psychical experience extends far beyond that of actual consciousness; and that from time to time an automatic transference takes place from one to the other. Ideas appear to arise in the conscious intelligence without giving any indication of their origin, in sense or reason; they are evidently not consciously made by the intelligence, nor are they attributable to any external source which can be recognised by means of sense-perception. Thus they have all the appearance of purely spiritual communications proceeding from an external and transcendental region. The theory we are now considering holds that, on the principle that entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem, we are not justified in investing these experiences with any transcendental character, if, as is thought to be the case, they can be sufficiently accounted for by other means.

The question is, therefore, whether the theory of automatism does really provide a sufficient explanation of the facts.

It seems hardly possible to deny that most of the characteristic features of the states recorded by Catholic mystical writers as experienced by themselves, have been at various times produced in the experience of others who are neither Catholics nor mystics. The essential features of passivity, of incommunicableness, and of manifest reality are evident in many of the cases cited by James, some of which are the result of alcoholic stimulation, others of the influence of anaesthetics, and others again of pathological states; while some are apparently spontaneous.{4} Moreover, numbers of heretical and even immoral systems of religion or theosophy have depended for their authority on experiences which seem to exhibit characteristically mystical qualities, but which cannot, from the point of view of Catholic orthodoxy, be held to be genuine, and either must be considered purely natural, or else must be attributed to diabolical influence. This latter was the opinion of Gِrres, who made out a complete system of diabolical mysticism parallel in some sort with the divine.

But in the case of Catholic mystics -- and it may probably be admitted, in other cases exhibiting nearly similar features -- there is no question of any such stimulus as that given by alcohol or drugs. Nor can their state be properly called pathological, unless in the very wide and somewhat fanciful sense in which the so-called inspirations of genius have been supposed to be so. Abnormal it certainly is; and there is no direct evidence to show that this abnormal state is not, as in some of the cases quoted by James, the spontaneous result of some obscure and possibly congenital abnormality of nervous constitution.{5} At the same time it must be noted that, as has already been pointed out, the great mystics show no signs of such abnormality, but are, on the contrary, rather remarkable for their mental and physical sanity in the ordinary affairs of life. Such mystics as St Bernard, St Catherine of Siena, St Teresa and St John of the Cross seem to be distinguished from the ordinary run of people in business matters, only by their superior acumen. If indeed it is to be assumed that no personal God exists; or that God cannot communicate directly with the soul; or that man has no soul which can receive such communications -- then, no doubt, the hypothesis, at present certainly unverifiable, of automatism may fairly be held to be the most probable explanation of the problem. But if no such presupposition is entertained; and still more if it is held, on independent grounds, that a God exists who is able, if He so chooses, to influence the soul of man directly and immediately, there seems to be no reason to deny that those cases of transcendental illumination, for which no physical cause can be assigned, may, with a degree of probability which approaches certainty, be attributed to divine agency. For here the question ceases to be a matter merely of psychological investigation: the moral probability of deception has also to be considered -- that is to say, the probability that God would permit those who must be considered most deserving of His consideration to be the victims of a delusion as humiliating as the reality simulated by it would be ennobling.

If we start with the Christian presupposition of the nature of God it is impossible to believe the conviction universally entertained by the mystics of their immediate intercourse with God to be ill-founded: at the same time the theory of automatism seems to furnish at least a highly probable explanation of many quasi-mystical states to which this moral argument does not appear to be applicable. Those, on the other hand, who start with a contrary presupposition, or with none, are obviously free to apply the theory impartially to all cases alike.

3. The third view is a conciliation of the subjective and objective theories, first put forward definitely by Maine de Biran,{6} and adopted in a general way by Gِrres. In this view the experience of the mystic is real, and consists, as he rightly believes, in immediate intuition of and communication with the divine being. But the manner in which the soul becomes conscious of the supernatural experience is natural, and from a certain point is the same as that in which it becomes conscious of the impressions automatically derived from the "transmarginal" sphere. That is to say, the soul undergoes a certain unconscious modification{7} (in the one case by means of a sense-impression, in the other by means of a purely spiritual communication), of which it subsequently becomes conscious by the very obscure process to which the title of automatism has been given in order to express its essentially non-volitional character. The way, whatever it may be, in which we become conscious of ideas derived from unnoticed sense-impressions may be identical with that in which the mystic becomes conscious of the immediate divine presence. He can give no account of the coming of this presence; suddenly he knows that it is there and he can say no more. In the same way the mind becomes suddenly conscious of the solution of a difficult problem, of an artistic effect and the manner of its production, or of an overmastering moral impulse, without being able to explain or account for its origin. There is certainly a strong apparent similarity between the flashes of inspiration which are held to constitute or indicate genius and the mystical intuition of an objective divine presence and of communications proceeding from a divine person; and the view which regards the rise of the ideas into consciousness as identical in method in every case seems to have much in its favour. The absence of any genuine (as distinct from imaginary) sensible impressions in the one case as compared with the fundamental importance of sense-impressions in the other need present no difficulty, so long as we admit the substantial reality of the soul, and refrain from identifying physiological with psychological conditions. It is not more difficult -- and it may even appear less so -- to conceive of a psychical state produced, whether consciously or unconsciously, by direct spiritual agency, than to conceive of a psychical state resulting from a sense-impression. In the view now before us, the only difference between the two classes of experience is that a true mystical state is originated in the psychical sphere; pseudo-mystical or merely natural states have their origin in sense-impression, like all merely natural psychical states; but the psychical machinery by which a conscious state is produced we may consider to be the same in both cases.

It may be added that this distinction coincides practically with that which has been constantly made by ecclesiastical authority in dealing with the various types of apparently abnormal spiritual experience on which it has had to pronounce an opinion from time to time.{8} The possibility, or rather the strong probability, of deception of one kind or another has always been kept prominently in view; and it is only after much hesitation that any such case has been pronounced genuine. Each has been, as a rule, the subject of prolonged investigation and consideration; cases eventually found to be spurious have had their orthodox defenders, and genuine ones their equally orthodox antagonists. St Catherine of Siena, St John of the Cross, St Teresa, B. Margaret Mary Alacoque, and a host of others have had to undergo a more or less prolonged period of doubt, suspicion and even reprobation, before their experiences were accepted as genuine; and on the other hand, neither Molinos nor Madame Guyon lacked patronage in high places. It is enough, however, for practical purposes (and no other purpose can here be entertained) to distinguish genuine experiences from delusions. It is of little importance to know the nature of the delusion, which it is admitted might be either natural or directly diabolical in origin. Psychological considerations need not enter into the investigation; until very recently, indeed, it was scarcely possible that they should; but the fact of self-deception has always been familiar enough, however little may have been known about its nature.

Abnormal experiences may, therefore, be either genuine or cases of delusion, whether natural or supernatural, and the theory last mentioned supplies a rational basis for this classification to which it seems difficult to take exception. At the same time, it must be remembered that the criterion which has mainly been made use of by Ecclesiastical authority is, and probably will always be, the external or "pragmatic" one of orthodoxy and morality. But mysticism which is orthodox and moral need not necessarily be genuine, though that which is heretical and immoral must necessarily be spurious; and in the large number of cases of the former kind no authoritative pronouncement has been made or appears to be possible. But in such cases there is little practical need for authority; a doubtfully genuine mystic may be accepted or rejected by individual opinion, and so long as his faith and morals are beyond question, neither acceptance nor rejection can do any harm. It may also be suggested that the difficulty of a decision may be considerably Increased by the occurrence of abnormal states of different kinds in the experience of the same individual. The passage from real mystical experiences to spurious ones seems to be far from an improbable occurrence -- and the converse process, though doubtless less probable, can hardly be considered impossible, though nothing could well be more difficult than to trace such a transition. But the opinion expressed of the Methodists by William Law is applicable to a large class of mystical pretensions -- "I think that they have the Spirit of God, but they have greatly mingled their own spirit with it."{9}


{1} Mr Inge remarks the general tendency among mystical writers of the supernatural kind to schematism. It may perhaps be explained as a natural attempt to minimise the insuperable difficulty of describing such experiences as theirs.

{2} The Pauline division into body, soul and spirit (1 Thess. v.) must he understood to refer to the twofold function of the rational soul, not to two distinct substances.

{3} W. James, Varieties of Religious Experience; Delacroix, Mysticisme. Cf. Vaughan, Hours with the Mystics, i. 158.

{4} James, op. cit., Lectures XVI. and XVII.

{5} See Benedict XIV., Heroic Sanctity, and see ch. 1. pp. 35, 36.

{6} Vie de l'Esprit: sub fin. Cf. Delacroix, p. 406. "Comme il est difficile de méconnaitre l'identité psychologique des phénomènes de subconscience, qu'ils se présentent dans le christianisme ou dans d'autres religions; ou bien sans d'autres formes que la forme religieuse, beaucoup d'esprits désireux de concilier le fait et la doctrine tendent à faire droit aux exigences de la psychologie, en expliquant psychologiquement la passivité religieuse, et à celles de la théologie, en maintenant que ce jeu de lois psychologiques représente le plan d'action divine sur les ames; de sorte que le subconscient serait le véhicule de la grace divine."

{7} Cf Maher, Psychology, p. 357.

{8} See Benedict XIV., De Canon. passim.

{9} The probable function of the "subliminal" consciousness and the nature of the union involved in the lumen gloriae are well though briefly described by Dr Chandler (Anglican Bishop of Bloemfontein); though it is, of course, incorrect to speak, as he does, of the "spark of the divine nature which is present in us from the beginning, and which makes us spiritual creatures with an organ of spiritual intuition" -- Ara Coeli pp. 115-119.