Thursday, April 27, 2017

Decolonising Islamic history through Shiʿi Texts


For over two decades now, Mohammad Ali Amir-Moezzi has produced a number of short studies that have challenged us with a radically different picture of Twelver Shiʿi Islam as an oppositional, alternative spiritual movement rooted in an esoteric vision of reality and comprehension of the scripture in which the everlasting countenance of God, the Imam, is present. Religion therefore is about the relationship that believers have with the Imam, and the ethical imperatives of what they do to him and to one other (who are the ahl al-walāya, the people cleaving to the sanctified nature of this ultimate Friend of God). However, this does not mean that like Corbin, he places history to one side all the while criticizing the historicism of much intellectual history; rather, his analyses of the texts are designed to rethink how we conceive of the history that is often immanent in those recensions. In so doing, he has forced us to reconsider how we analyse the contestations of Islam, identity and revelation in the classical period. His latest book is the second collection of his articles, originally published in French in 2011, and in this case rendered into English by the renowned poet – and emeritus professor of McGill University, Eric Ormsby. 




Unlike the first collection, which was more thematic constituting a series of studies in the Twelver doctrine of the Imam (imamology), this one introduces us to his readings of five classical Shiʿi texts that exemplify the nature of this esoteric tradition. While one or two of these may well be the great works of the early period, I have reservations about the others which begs the question of some analysis of the selection.  Crucially, as before, the author is making an argument about the very method by which we ought to study the history of Islam between the history of the early conflicts – what earlier was partly ascribed to the ‘sectarian milieu’ – and the redaction and canonization of Muslim scriptures, both the Qurʾan and the hadith. To put it more bluntly, the emergent ‘orthodox’ picture of early Islam that became the Sunni tradition is rather partial and too ‘neat’ a description of how the revelation was received, not least with its myth of the ʿUthmānic recension of the Qurʾan and its position on the probity and respectability of the companions of the prophet, both of which are key positions, that Amir-Moezzi argues, ought to be rejected if we take the early Shiʿi texts seriously since they categorically affirm the falsification of the revelation by the ‘orthodox’ caliphs and point out the shortcomings of such a romantic vision of a concordant early generation. The theme thus of this volume is how were the scriptures of the Qurʾan and hadith received, glossed, commented upon by the early Shiʿi scholarly community and what sort of hermeneutics did they need to apply to make sense of the violence and mess of the early history of Islam. 

The first text is Kitāb Sulaym ibn Qays (also known as Kitāb al-Saqīfa), arguably at its core the earliest work of Shiʿi literature – and indeed of any Muslim literature – extant, and the subject of recent studies by Robert Gleave, Tamima Bayhom-Daou, and the late Patricia Crone (as well as Maria Dakake before). This work demonstrates for the author the violence of what became the normative Muslim (read: Sunni, caliphal) history and the early articulation of a Shiʿi counter-history of the usurpation, injustice and evil of history. Amir-Moezzi emphasizes the popularity of this counter-narrative, briefly examines the debate on the reliability of its ascription to such a person (and whether Sulaym even existed), translates some key passages and provides the full table of contents of the 98 traditions given in the text produced in a critical edition in the late 1990s by Khūʾīnī. But this is just an introduction. I would have liked to see some further analysis of what this text – with its various layers which in themselves require some discussion – tells us about the very notion of Shiʿi history, of the nature of transmission of texts especially written transmission of which this is a prominent example, and what the reception history of this text tells us about issues such as the importance given to taqiyya in different periods of history including today (since often in seminary contexts, clerics will tend to usher people away from the text, a perhaps judicial thing given our sectarian, anti-Shiʿi times).

The second text is the Kitāb al-qirāʾāt or Kitāb al-tanzīl wa-l-taḥrīf of al-Sayyārī from the 3rd/9th century; this chapter is a version of the introduction to the edition of the text produced by Amir-Moezzi and Etan Kohlberg. As they say in the opening, the history of prophecy is also one of the falsification of the prophetic message The author uses this text to show how an exegesis can in fact be a history of this process of falsification that further academic studies that have raised questions about the redaction of the ʿUthmānic recension of the Qurʾan. However, the arguments of revisionist approaches to the codification of the text that point towards the role of al-Ḥajjāj ibn Yūsuf and the Umayyad caliph ʿAbd al-Malik (as presented in the work of Alfred de Premare among others) is not quite that of the early Shiʿi accusations of falsification; the revisionists are not talking about an Ur-text that is changed but a late text that emerges from the sectarian milieu and conflicts of understanding, while the Shiʿi accusers insisted that there was a pristine revelation collected in a book and that scripture was with ʿAlī (who in effect defined it by his redaction as well he could given his closeness to the recipient of the revelation).  I have some criticisms of the way in which the edition itself is done with the assumption of the normativity of the reading of Ḥafṣ (which is not present in the manuscript) but that does not arise in this book but in the Brill publication of the edition itself. Some comment would also be pertinent on the relative obscurity of the text in Shiʿi scholarly circles (by comparison to the others discussed in this book).

The third text is the (probably Zaydī) exegesis of al-Ḥibarī again from the 3rd/9th century. The problem of the absence of the names of the Imams and their enemies from the Qurʾan, a clear revelation of the reality of things as they are, meant that a hermeneutics was required that would decode and uncover meaning within the ʿUthmānic recension that demonstrates that the silences and absences of the Qurʾan needed to be articulated and made to speak by the Imam. To recall one early polemical exchange, the Qurʾan as text was itself not enough for the community of Muḥammad. One can see this process of reading in a number of the classical Shiʿi exegeses but once again one wonders about the actual importance of al-Ḥibarī for the scholarly tradition.

The fourth text, Baṣāʾir al-darajāt of the 3rd/9th century Qummī tradent, al-Ṣaffār raises the key thematic of imamology: the gnosis of the Imam and the need for believers to recognize this as central to their status. Amir-Moezzi includes a table of contents of the work. For him, like other early works from the Ismaili and what became the ʿAlawī-Nusayrī tradition, al-Ṣaffār’s collection shows how the early Shiʿi community was a gnostic one with a strong initatic tradition; in fact the ‘anomalies’, as he puts, in the text, may in fact provide further evidence for this since only the initiated would be able to distinguish what is correctly transmitted from what is intended to deceive. But this does not seem so convincing – and a comparison with al-Kāfī of Kulaynī (discussed in the final chapter) shows the extent of the overlap of material. The author similarly does not discuss directly some of the recent scholarly and seminarian debates on the authenticity of the ascription of the text (raised, for example, by Hassan Ansari and Sayyid Kamāl al-Ḥaydarī).

The final (and longest) chapter – co-authored with Hassan Ansari – is on Kulaynī and is the first major contribution in a European language (there is already an extensive highly useful academic literature on him in Arabic and Persian; see also Ansari, L'imamat et l'occultation salon l'imamisme, Leiden: Brill, 2017, pp. 27-36). One sees the hand of Ansari in the historically sophisticated contextualization of the work in this chapter. The main point that they wish to present is that this first of the classical four books (I still await a proper study of whence this notion of the Shiʿi canon of four books) represents the sufficient source to establish Shiʿi Islam as an independent religious tradition. This is taken up in the epilogue – given that those who had most vehemently opposed Muḥammad became the guardians of Islam, the propaganda, censorship and falsification of that imperial Islam would have to be opposed by articulating an alternative vision, indeed religion which placed at its centre the Imam as the countenance and revelation of the divine.

Amir-Moezzi’s work fits within the broad approaches of rethinking both the sources for the early period and the pivotal points of conflict to show how the master narrative of Sunni historiography (taken up by Orientalist scholarship) must be questioned and ‘de-colonised’. Far too much of the study of Islam is taken up with Sunni normatively, and any serious study that opens up the question  of what we understand by Islam in the many situations and contexts in which we encounter it, and concurrently what it means to be 'Islamic' ought to look far and wide at sources that address these questions, taking us, if necessary, out of our comfort zone. While many might criticize whether the author is sufficiently source critical of the texts which he is examining (one thinks back to his recanting back and forth with Karim Crow on method and today's sectarian milieu in which the excavation of the more esoteric aspects of the Shiʿi tradition arguably leads to the targeting of innocents), there is little doubt that those studying early Islam will profit from reading this work. The historian studying early Islam needs to cast his net for sources far and wide: Arabic traditions from the different trajectories that became Sunni, Sunni traditionalists, various types of Shiʿa, Ibāḍī and so forth, as well as the many other sources in Syriac and other languages and traditions which we know through the work of Robert Hoyland, David Thomas, Kevin van Bladel, Sidney Shoemaker, Philip Wood, Mathieu Tillier, David Wasserstrom, Michael Philip Penn, Antoine Borrut and many others. The next obvious step - already initiated - is to read the Arabic Shiʿi sources alongside the others to uncover other narratives of what constitutes the sacred tradition of Islam. 



Monday, March 20, 2017

Ḥurūfīs: Esoteric Shīʿa or what exactly?


I guess the Shiʿi Heritage Series of the Institute of Ismaili Studies takes a rather broad understanding of 'Shiʿi heritage' since they have published works which do not, on the surface, look like they contribute anything to the study of any of the major branches of Shiʿi Islam. Most recently they have published a volume on the ghulāt which raises interesting questions about the relationship of those texts and circles in Kufa and elsewhere in Iraq and Syria with the nascent communities of Ismailis and ʿAlawī-Nuṣayrīs, but still one wonders whether one can look at elements of the ghulāt of the early period as experiments in spirituality that did not survive. Orkhan Mir-Kasimov's work raises a more intriguing question about a group, a short-lived but highly influential community of esotericists committed to the sacred roots of the Persian language as well as elements of devotion and attachment to the ahl al-bayt that was characteristic of esotericism in the middle period. 

The study of Islamic intellectual history, while existing in pockets of scholarship before, has increasingly become a dominant aspect of the study of Islam. We have moved from some piecemeal approaches to the classical period to a more carefully nuanced and thick understanding of the middle period, that critical time from the wane of the ʿAbbasids to the rise of the Gunpowder Empires. In particular, the ‘Chicago school’ has expended much effort in making sense of the critical messianic moment from around the time of Timur, the ‘lord of the junction’ through to the ‘messianic sovereigns’ of the Timurid and later Ottoman, Safavid, and Mughal Empires. Mir-Kasimov's book concerns one of the key intellectual developments of that period, namely esoteric political theology and lettrism (ʿilm al-ḥurūf), which later informed similar developments in the 16th and 17th centuries and gives us one, albeit marginal and rather antinomian, glimpse into the important of the esoteric and the occult learning that was a critical element of the scholarly underground even among elites through the middle and early modern periods in the world of Islam. Although at times one wonders whether we have, in the current esotericist and occultist turn in intellectual history, overdone the significance of the esoteric as the master science. Mir-Kasimov’s magisterial and highly textual study of Fażlallāh Astarābādī (d. 1394) and his movement of the Ḥurūfīya, neither mainstream Shiʿi nor ʿAlid-loyalist Sufis nor even complete esotericists outside the pale of Islam, makes a contribution to the processes by which elite discourses on hermeneutics of reading the word and the world filtered into more subaltern and vernacular understandings of the cosmos and the human within and the divine both within and without. It is therefore no accident that the careful lettrist calculations that places letters as a primordial signifiers and producers of the cosmos, their manipulation to make sense of the cosmos and wield power, and their role in the folding up of the cosmos focused upon the Persian alphabet and vernacular. After all lettrism need not be confined to learned disquisitions on the letters of a particular language such as Arabic – but unlike other forms of lettrism found in the Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ or al-Būnī or others, there is something peculiarly transgressive about the insistence of Astarābādī on the primordial nature of the Persian language. In recent years, Shahzad Bashir and others have contributed to our understanding of this movement, not least motivated by the desire to make sense of the varying manifestations of Sufism in the messianic moment and its relationship with forms of Shiʿism or ʿAlid loyalism. For those who are interested in these processes and the way in which this impinges upon vernacular learning, Mir-Kasimov’s study will be essential. Most importantly by insisting that he is studying the ‘original’ teaching, while holding one hostage to a certain hubris, he is differentiating the later reception and understanding of Astarābādī from his doctrine, and critically separating his particular movement from the wider trend of lettrism from the middle period in the Persianate world. And it is always important to remember that interest in lettrism need not make a thinker a ḥurufī

The book itself is divided into an introduction (on the sources and a literature review), three parts on the cosmology and cosmogony of language, prophetology as the descent of the logos and process of reversion to God, and soteriology and eschatology, and a final conclusion that attempts to contextualize the Ḥurūfīya in Islamic intellectual history. I would have liked to see far more discussion of the sources and the problems one migh face in their analysis and distinction. Quite often one feels that the individual sections and even their internal chapters stand alone – the book reads somewhat like a series of broadly congruous but distinct articles on specific aspects of his thought, and the introduction and conclusion could do far more to provide sufficient background, connectors and contexts for those unfamiliar. Nevertheless, the detail, the careful philology (given that the language of the texts is usually a Khurasani/Astarabadi vernacular of Persian), the manuscript work and the coverage will make this the major reference for anyone interested in the Ḥurūfīya as a movement and their intellectual and political intersections. The introductions presents them within the messianic turn, provides a literature review of their study, and deals with the difficulties of their texts not least the Jāvīdān-nāma. On a small side note, I know that transliteration is not necessarily an exact science, but the practice of the Institute of Ismaili Studies that insists on rendering Persian as if it were Arabic is rather tedious – hence I prefer Jāvīdān-nāma to Jāwīdān-nāma and Fażlallāh to Faḍl Allāh. Mir-Kasimov provides some useful appendices on key terms, an inventory of texts found in the works that help the readers contextualize the sources as well as preliminary transcriptions of the Persian texts used. There is little doubt that this will become the main resource for our understanding of Ḥurūfism, even if some of the more recent studies in Persian are more ‘historical’. Most of the chapters are careful and close readings of the text (with copious translated passages that could be fruitfully used in class) and it is only in the conclusion that he returns to the wider picture of how Astarābādī relates to tendencies in esotericism, especially of Shiʿi varieties.

The text follows the drama of the Jāwīdān-nāma as the descent of the word from the One, its manifestation in prophecy, and its soteriological return. Surprisingly given Astarābādī’s own messianic role, there is little discussed on walāya, which is such a central concept in different esotericisms, even if the other key notion of such approaches to text, namely taʾwīl is much analysed. Part one on the cosmogony and cosmology begins with the problem of creation: how does multiplicity arise from unity and how does the immaterial produce a material cosmos? It then moves onto key aspects of the cosmos – the engendering of the human with the narrative of Adam and Eve, as well as space and time and the ways in which in its very diversity the multiple universe is united by the word. In the scheme of the school of Ibn ʿArabī and his later Shiʿi interpreters, existence is a singular reality in which diversity is not mere phenomenal illusion but constitutes the very stuff of a modulated and hierarchically arranged pyramid of being; they called this doctrine tashkīk al-wujūd or the modulated but singular reality of existence. For Astarābādī, there seems to be a similar ontological description but with the word taking the place of existence; it is the word that is one and many. This phenomenon has been noted for the esotericist  Ibn Turka (d. 1432) by Matthew Melvin-Koushki. The footnotes make some brief comparisons with Hellenic neoplatonisms, but more interesting are some of the parallels and clear references to Christian apocrypha especially of a Gnostic type. I would like to know if there are any references to hermetica that would be appropriate but there is nothing mentioned. The centrality of the notion of the correspondences and the balance in the cosmos recalls both the Ikhwān al-ṣafāʾ and Jābir ibn Ḥayyān but the parallels are not analysed. The ultimate homology is between God and his form in Adam – though it is the first human couple who fully manifest the divine since for Astarābādī Eve is the form of Adam. There is no strict precedence of the male. Adam is the divine throne and Eve the footstool that together ensure the perpetuation of the balance. Similarly Adam is the soul of the word manifest while Eve is its very existence. Their bodies are the preserved tablet and the ‘mother of the book’, the essence of revelation. Astarābādī constantly refers to esoteric sayings of ʿAlī as the primordial Adam. Insofar as Adam/ʿAlī is the perfect word of God and all things he takes the place of the ‘perfect man’ of the Sufi tradition.

Part two on prophetology includes a number of esoteric contemplations of particular prophets as exemplifying the descent and the course of the word in this world and its indication towards the reversion to God. As the short excursus in part one suggested, knowledge and love are the two motivations for the descent of the word as well as the process for its reversion. Prophets take the word and fragment them into the expressions of human language; but they also provide the tools for the re-integration of the word through taʾwīl. A short chapter 9 discusses the three famous examples of this later: Joseph, Moses, and Solomon. Jesus and Muḥammad reflect a more direct revelation of the word and its reversion – the taking up into heaven of the former, and the ascension (miʿrāj) of the latter.

Part three on soteriology is remarkably short with a discussion of gnostic salvation (the salvific efficacy of knowledge overcoming ignorance), and the end of times and the relative role of those initiated and the uninitiated. Perhaps it is not paradoxical that a messianic movement shows little interest in the world to come precisely because it seems in its theological and politically radical moment to be invested in the ever present. The fall from the edenic state was related in part one to the oblivion of the complete word of God and the meaning inscribed on the bodies of Adam and Eve. The return or the reversal of the fall therefore requires through taʾwīl an enlightenment of that word and the realization of the self that comes at the end of the religious dispensation brought by Muḥammad culminating in Astarābādī. Those who fail to achieve this enlightenment join Satan in his ignorance and fiery nature and become the hellfire in which they dwell. In this section there is further consideration of the role of ʿAlī at the end of the religious dispensation. The fall of Adam reflects the reduction of the 32 primordial words into 28; it is ʿAlī who returns the four key words for the integration and reversion of the word at the end of time. There is little that is explicitly Imami or Twelver Shiʿi in the text although Mir-Kasimov suggests that might be due to the changing context under Shahrukh and the reception of the text.

Given the very detailed nature of the chapters, the conclusion plays a critical role in allowing us to see the woods from the trees. A question that remains is how did Astarābādī see himself? Can one see the Jāwīdān-nāma as an act of taʾwīl on the Qurʾan or itself a work of revelation? To what extent does he draw upon existing lettrism and esoteric interpretation and how is his legacy received? Locating him within the traditions of esoteric interpretation - on which one may consult a recent book which I had something to do with - might help one to understand some of the wider currents of interest and intersection. Mir-Kasimov discusses the links with the school of Ibn ʿArabī even if there is little explicitly from the master himself; there is a discussion of the superiority of walāya over prophecy and some ambiguity over the nature of the seal 0f saints – more explicitly Shiʿi contemporaries such as Sayyid Ḥaydar Āmulī followed Ḥamūya and Kāshānī on identifying the figure with the Twelver Mahdī but Astarābādī was more circumspect. The problem of contextualization is raised because the milieu of Astarābādī included the school of Ibn ʿArabī, Ismailism and other trends of esoteric Shiʿi Islam such as Rajab Bursī. Mir-Kasimov suggests that instead to tying him to a particular Shiʿi trend, one can see in his work the same revival of early esoteric Shiʿism found in both Twelver and Ismaili works – certainly matters are complicated by some later Ḥurūfīs who took a more markedly Twelver approach. We know that others attracted to esotericism and lettrism immediately after such as Ṣāʾin al-Dīn Ibn Turka rejected Astarābadī while using some of the same techniques. Rightly, the author suggests that there is much more to research on the legacy and reception of Astarābādī – perhaps a follow up volume?

In many ways Mir-Kasimov has provided us with a critical sourcebook on a major figure of esotericism in middle period Persianate Islam. It is then for those reading the work to follow up on the contexts and connections with other trends of the period especially in the great messianic turn of the 15th and 16th centuries. Bashir’s work is a much better integrated introduction but in this work we have a far more deeply textual work that can complement Bashir. But the work still leaves me somewhat baffled by the problem of esotericism and particularly esoteric Shiʿism in the period.


A couple of recent publications of the Muʾassasa-yi kitāb-shināsī-yi Shīʿa

Biographical dictionaries are essential tools of research that help us to flesh out the context of a thinker's composition and production. Of course, like most forms of narrative, they carry within them a certain rhetorical style and effect and a self-referentiality to the genre itself - these works draw upon previous works of the genre, sometimes through explicit citation and at other times through influence and unacknowledged citation. The job of a good editor at times is precisely to reveal the sources used, especially if those latter works are not extant or are difficult to obtain.

The first text I want to mention is ʿUlamā-yi ʿahd-i Nāsir al-Dīn Shāh Qājār, which is an edition of the biographical section of al-Maʾāsir wa-l-āsār of Muḥammad Ḥasan Khān Iʿtimād al-salṭana (d. 1313/1896).

Iʿtimād al-salṭana as a major courtier and one of the earliest 'European' trained officials (having studied in the Dār al-funūn in Tehran) headed up the publications bureau of the state and was responsible for editing and having published a number of important histories, gazetteers and geographical surveys. Al-Maʾāsir was written and published in celebration of the 40th anniversary of the reign of Nāṣir al-Dīn Shāh in 1301-3/1884-6, and is a work cited extensively in 20th century sources such as the continuation of Nujūm al-samāʾ by Mīrzā Muḥammad ʿAlī Kashmīrī, the Takmilat Amal al-āmil of Sayyid Ḥasan al-Ṣadr (d. 1354/1935) and the massive undertaking of Āqā Buzurg Ṭihrānī, Ṭabaqāt aʿlām al-shīʿa arranged by century. It was divided into 16 chapters and the chapter on the ʿulama is chapter 10, much of which was actually written by Shams al-ʿulamāʾ Muḥammad Mahdī ʿAbd al-Rabbābādī although it bears the strong editorial imprint of Iʿtimād al-salṭana. The modern edition of al-Maʾāsir by the late Īraj Afshār was published in the 1980s in three volumes.

The text itself says that it is a listing of the 'names of ʿulama and scholars, imams of religion, eminent mujtahids, illustrious theologians, theosist philosophers, contented mystics, accomplished litterateurs, Arabists, curing physicians, great poets, unique preachers and lamenters, writers and calligraphers from the land of Iran in the last forty years'. What follows are 698 notices, some as short as a simple name (such as entry number 206 Mullā Riżā, 'a notable scholar of this land') and others fuller biographies (such as entry number 46 on the eminent philosopher of the school of Mullā Ṣadrā, Ḥājj Mullā Hādī Sabzavārī [d. 1289/1873]). The editor Nāsir al-Dīn Anṣārī Qummī has done a good job of annotating the entries so that one can cross refer with other sources especially the 20th century ones that draw upon it. The text tells us useful things about the Nāsirī period, commenting on Bābī and Bāhāʾī and Shaykhī challenges to the hierocracy, bolstering the authority of the jurists, and praising the eminent philosophers and poets who carried the tradition of Mullā Ṣadrā and of mysticism.

The second text is from the late Safavid period, al-Darajāt al-rafīʿa fī ṭabaqāt al-imāmīya of the well known poet, literary scholar and scion of the Dashtakī family of Shiraz, Sayyid ʿAlī Khān b. Muḥammad Maʿṣūm Madanī (d. 1118/1707), who also wrote an important taẕkira of Arabic poets entitle Sulāfat al-ʿaṣr fī maḥāsin al-shuʿarāʾ bi-kulli miṣr.

The text was previously published in Najaf in the early 1960s (and there is an even earlier lithograph); the Najaf edition has been offset printed a number of times. As the text has come down to us in a somewhat incomplete form, this edition is somewhat preliminary, produced by Shaykh Muḥammad Jawād Maḥmūdī and ʿAbd al-Sattār al-Ḥasanī. The text is divided into 20 sections starting with the companions of the prophets and the next generations down to his contemporaries. The sections on the companions, those who narrated from the Imams, and the early Shiʿi women are not extant as far as the editors have attempted to trace. The latter in particular is rather unfortunate given the great interest in uncovering voices and personalities from the early Islamic period. Notices tend to be rather brief and should be read alongside other contemporaneous Safavid period compilations such as Riyāḍ al-ʿulamāʾ of Mīrzā ʿAbdullāh Afandī and Amal al-āmil of al-Ḥurr al-ʿĀmilī. Once again the published text is well annotated. His particular interest in poets and the poetic output of scholars and philosophers was what prompted me first many years ago to look at poetic taẕkire as an important source for intellectual history.

The Muʾassasa-yi kitāb-shināsī-yi Shīʿa continues to produce significant works of reference - alongside the others they have already produced including the two volumes collection of all the books lists (Fahāris) compiled by Shiʿi ʿulama of the past. It would help if the website were better updated especially in the section of their publications (manshūrāt) as often recentish books are found in the news (akhbār) section. The publications themselves might not always have the most analytical introductions, but the job of making sense of the narratives, the formation of the self, and constructions of scholarly genealogies and histories remain for us as historians to decipher and examine.