E – Hybrid Learning https://hybridlearning.pk Online Learning Thu, 04 Jul 2024 08:31:02 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.5.5 ETHNICITY https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/07/ethnicity/ https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/07/ethnicity/#respond Wed, 07 Nov 2012 12:37:25 +0000 https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/07/ethnicity/ ETHNICITY. The Qur’an states repeatedly that individuals, not groups, are responsible for what they do, stressing the unity of the Islamic ummah (community) in verse […]

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ETHNICITY. The Qur’an states repeatedly that individuals, not groups, are responsible for what they do, stressing the unity of the Islamic ummah (community) in verse after verse and emphasizing the primacy of bonds created through Islam over those based on shared identities of kinship, descent, region, and language-bonds which the medieval Moroccan philosopher Ibn Khaldun (d. 14o6) collectively called `asabiyah (“group cohesiveness”).
Muslims say that commitment to Islam supplants ties of ethnicity, the ways in which individuals and groups characterize themselves on the basis of shared language, culture, descent, place of origin, and history. Yet from the first Muslim conquests in seventh-century Arabia, as Muslim armies spread forth from the Arabian Peninsula to peoples who neither spoke Arabic nor could claim Arab descent, such concerns frequently surfaced in practice. Under the Umayyad dynasty (661-750), persons successfully claiming Arab descent obtained economic and political benefits. To the present day, Muslims claiming descent from the prophet Muhammad, called sharifs in Morocco  and sayyids in the Yemen and elsewhere-and such claims are by no means limited to the Arab world-often enjoy religious prestige and legal entitlements. [See Sharif; Sayyid.]
As elsewhere in the world, Muslim notions of ethnicity are cultural constructions. For this reason, it is difficult to find a specific counterpart in Middle Eastern and other languages for the English term ethnicity. Ethnicity is an observer’s term, for those who assert ethnic ties often regard them as fixed and “natural.” Ethnicity is often thought to be a matter of birth, but the exceptions are as frequent as the rule: the social and political significance of ethnic and religious identities alters significantly according to historical and social contexts. For example, take the term qawm (“people”) in Afghanistan. Depending on context it can mean a tribe or a subdivision of one, a people sharing a common origin or region of residence, or more generally a shared identity of religion and language. Moreover, since the latter half of the twentieth century, the experience of large-scale migration in search of wage labor-Pakistanis to Saudi Arabia, Turks and Kurds to western Germany, and North Africans to France-or as refugees-Afghans to Iran and Western Europe and Bosnian Muslims to Austria and Germany-has had a major impact on changing the significance and political implications of ethnic identity.
In the Arabian Peninsula, claims to ethnic or tribal identity-the two notions are almost indistinguishable in countries such as Saudi Arabia, Oman, Yemen, and the Gulf states-are usually framed in genealogical terms as descending from one of two eponymous ancestors. “Northern” Arabs claim descent from `Adnan; “southern” Arabs, including those who speak Semitic languages other than Arabic, claim Qahtan as their ancestor. The possibility for some groups of claiming either `Adnan or Qahtan as eponymous ancestors allows for flexibility in making descent claims, although genealogies are considered fixed. Indeed, since the 1960s, groups such as the Sindhi-speaking Shi’i Liwatiyah of coastal Oman have also claimed Arab descent, explaining their “temporary” loss of Arabic (and tribal identity) by centuries of residence on the Indian subcontinent. Ex-slaves (Ar., khuddam) attached to tribes and ruling families throughout the Arabian Peninsula, and other groups lacking tribal descent, have traditionally had an inferior social status, as shown by occupation and the lack of intermarriage with other groups, but modern economic conditions are rapidly eroding these distinctions. Visible African descent might suggest slave descent to some traditionalists on the Arabian Peninsula, but it might also imply descent from one of the ruling families in which slave concubines were common in earlier generations.
Contemporary Arab identity suggests how historically and contextually diverse ethnic claims can be. Many Arabs assert that they are a “race,” although for centuries populations have mixed and intermarried throughout the Arab world. Although divided politically despite the first claims to Arab unity in the early twentieth century, made as the Ottoman Empire weakened, Arabs are unified by language and culture. Nonetheless, many of the regional dialects of Arabic are mutually unintelligible. For example, Arabs from Saudi Arabia and the Gulf states understand colloquial Moroccan Arabic only with difficulty, and vice-versa. The spread of mass higher education throughout the region since mid century contributed to widening the appeal of Arab nationalism and Pan-Arabism and of course facilitated communications among Arabs from different regions able to converse in a common “educated” Arabic modeled on classroom and the broadcast media. Still, major differences of dialect and situational identity remain. One is not just Muslim in the Middle East or elsewhere, but also Arab (and there are not only Christian and Muslim Arabs, but also Arabic-speaking Jews in Israel and North Africa), Berber, Nubian, Circassian, Hui, Malay, Sindhi, or Fulani.
Since ethnic and religious considerations are never the sole attribute shared by persons and groups in the Middle East, it is crucial to consider how such social distinctions figure in the overall context of social and personal identity and to not stop at a mosaic-like enumeration of ethnic group, sect, family origin, locality, and occupation. In North Africa, for example, the first Arab invaders came with the advent of Islam in the seventh century, followed by a second, larger wave of Bedouin migrations in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. Nonetheless, the peoples of the region claim both Berber and Arab descent, and these claims to ethnic identity are based on language and cultural characteristics. Arabic is the dominant language of the region, and Arab civilization is pervasive, but there are still groups in the mountainous regions and in certain oases, particularly in Morocco and southern Algeria, who retain Berber languages and traditions, and some of these groups, such as traders originally from Morocco’s Sus valley, play major roles in urban life elsewhere in the country.
In Morocco, for example, nearly half the population speaks one of the several Berber dialects, although most Moroccan Berbers, especially men, speak Arabic as a second language. The most important dialect (and ethnic) clusters are Shluh, spoken in Morocco and Mauritania; Shawiyah and Kabyle in Algeria; Tamashek, spoken by the Tuareg of the central Sahara and south of the Niger; Rifian and Tamazight, spoken predominantly in Morocco; and Zanaga, in Senegal.
French colonial administrators, first in nineteenth century Algeria and subsequently in twentieth-century Morocco, sought to nurture the notion that Berber identity was distinct from that of being Arab and Muslim. For reasons of colonial control, the French in Morocco emphasized the real and imagined differences of Berbers, who in the earlier part of the century resided primarily in the mountainous regions and in Morocco’s south, from the Arab society of the towns and the agricultural plains. In 1930 the French made a major political miscalculation when they issued the famous Berber Proclamation in Morocco, which legally excluded regions designated as Berber from the jurisdiction of Islamic law courts. The proclamation set off protests throughout Morocco and the Muslim world. This decree was supplemented by policies affecting military recruitment, local administration, and education (Berbers were forbidden to learn Arabic in schools, although most students found the means to do so). Even after Morocco gained its independence from France in 1956, the issue continued to be a delicate one. Some Berber intellectuals would like to see the Berber languages written and taught in schools, although governmental officials in both Morocco and Algeria, which also has a significant Berber population, have discouraged such initiatives for fear of encouraging separatist movements. In Morocco, the categorizations Arab and Berber are often situational, and persons will stress one or another aspect of their identity depending on context. Identity as Arab and Berber is best thought of as a continuum rather than (as did French colonial officials) as a sharp, mappable distinction. Diverse patterns of occupation, residence, marriage, urban and rural origin, and other factors show that the ethnic distinctions of Arab and Berber in North Africa lack the all-pervasive typification that ethnicity takes in contexts elsewhere, including being Kurdish in northern Iraq or Muslim in Bosnia.
Assertion of an ethnic identity is often a political claim. In Afghanistan, opposition to the Soviet dominated state which took power in 1978 and to the 1979 Soviet invasion came largely from tribally organized ethnic groups, for whom attachment to Islam served as a common denominator. In Pakistan, especially after the secession of Bangladesh in 1971, the country’s ruling Punjabi elite viewed with suspicion the country’s other ethnic groups, which include Sindhis, Pashtuns, Muhajirs (Muslim refugees who migrated after 1947 from what is now India), and Baluch. The Pakistani state emphasizes Islam as an identity more important than the common ethnic ties of its minority groups, including the Baluch, who from 1973 to 1977 fought for regional autonomy. The insurgency was unsuccessful, but contributed to a heightened Baluch national consciousness that cut across tribal divisions.
Ethnic stereotyping involves shared notions concerning the motivations and attributes of the members of other ethnic groups and what can be expected of them, as well as those of one’s own ethnic group. Ethnic identities, like those of language, sect, nation, and family, can be comprehended only in the context of more general assumptions made in a given society concerning the nature of the social relationships and obligations. Such understandings can be benign, as in most Arab-Berber relations in North Africa, or they can menace the destruction of civil society.
Most modern notions of ethnicity have little to do with the notion of the mappable traits of an earlier generation. Instead, they emphasize how ethnic distinctions are generated, produced, and maintained in society. Ethnic identities are constantly adjusted to changing requirements, even if some advocates of ethnic nationalism maintain that ethnic identities are irreducible and self-evident.
The Kurds are a case in point. How Kurds construct their ethnic and religious identity, or have the label “Kurd” applied to them by others, indicates the difficulties involved in treating ethnic identities as primordial givens or as locally held aggregations of collective interests.
Kurdistan is a region that crosses several international boundaries. Most Kurds five in Turkey (10 million, perhaps 2o percent of the country’s population), although several million five in neighboring Iran and northern Iraq, with smaller numbers in Syria and elsewhere, including western Germany. The number of Kurds is itself a significant issue, with Kurdish spokespersons offering higher figures than those wishing to diminish the political importance of Kurds. For many years, Kurds in Turkey were officially designated as “mountain Turks” who possessed an incomplete command of Turkish. Although other minorities in Turkey had their non-Turkish mother tongues recorded in official censuses, Kurdish was not, and only in recent years has speaking and writing Kurdish become legal. Many Kurds in Turkey are also Alevi (Ar., `Alawi) Muslims, a sectarian group looked on with disdain by many Sunni Turks, so many differ from other Turks not only in terms of language, but also religiosity. The repressive treatment of Kurdish speakers in eastern Anatolia, combined with the region’s poverty, has led to their disproportionately high representation in the Turkish migrant community in Germany, estimated to be as large as 2 million.
Identity as Alevi Kurds in Turkey is continually negotiated. From an early age, Alevi children are socialized into seeing themselves as a subordinated people whose religious identity is suppressed by a Sunni majority, who view them as religiously deviant and backward. The memory of shared injustices and suppression is carried from generation to generation. In contrast, Kurdish-speaking Alevis in western Germany find themselves more free than in Turkey to express themselves as Kurds and as Alevis. Moreover, second generation migrants in Germany often rework their identity as Turks or Kurds in terms learned from European nationalist and ethnic discourse. Ironically, Germans tend to confuse Turks with Greeks, prompting a critical rethinking of identities by workers carrying both national labels. In a similar manner, Sunni and Alevi Turks in Germany critically rethink their differences as they interact with one another more intensely than they do in Turkey. This has had an impact on improving the situation of Kurds in Turkey.
Contemporary ethnic and religious identities in the new states of Central Asia and the Caucasus merit special consideration. During the Soviet era, Stalin created ethnic identities-“national” identities in the political language of the former Soviet Union-to weaken the possibility of resistance to Soviet domination. Beginning in the nineteenth century, Russian imperial expansion led to the forced migration of the Muslim populations of the region, creating hostility against Russians. Subsequently, those speaking Turkic languages, including the Turkmen, Kazakh, and Kirghiz (whose traditional lifestyles involved pastoralism), and the Uzbeks, primarily agricultural and urban, were considered separate for administrative purposes, as were the Persian-speaking Tajiks. The frequent displacement of populations, heavy Russian immigration to the major towns and to certain regions (such as northern Kazakhstan), and frequent shifts of language policy, including changes of alphabet and the substitution of Russian for the Turkic languages and Persian in schools, served to fragment ethnic identities. The newly independent republics are rapidly reversing this situation. In Azerbaijan, for example, schools are gradually shifting from the Cyrillic to the Latin alphabet and to Azeri Turkish as the language of instruction instead of Russian. Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan have made similar moves. In all cases, the demise of the Soviet Union has led to a growth in ethnic consciousness and ethnic conflicts linked to competing claims over land, water, and other national resources. Because the various ethnic populations often live sideby-side-many Tajiks, for example, five in Uzbekistan, and a significant minority of Uzbeks live in neighboring republics, the possibilities of conflict are enormous. Their right to cultural self-expression has varied considerably in the past and will continue to do so.
The same situation exists in China, where ethnic and religious boundaries can be seen to be cultural and political constructions rather than territorial ones. The attribution of an ethnic, or even a religious, identity to a group or an individual depends on the speaker, the audience, and the context. Such identities are constructed in competition between local communities and the state, classes, and leaders and followers. Not infrequently one answer is given when governments make inquiries, and another when scholars do. Of the fifty-five national minorities listed in China’s 1982 census, ten are Muslim by tradition, including the Hui, Uighur, Kazakh, and others, for a total of 15 million, which is probably an under representation. Some groups claim Turkic descent, while others, such as the Hui, consider themselves a mixture of Han, Mongol, and Arab descent. The decision under post-1949 communist rule to classify the Hui as a national identity rather than a religious one suggests that the authorities regarded ethnic identity as more amenable to control than a religious one. (In a similar manner, Tito’s Yugoslavia treated the country’s Muslims as a national rather than as a religious identity.) Since the 1980s, China’s Muslims have been given limited autonomy. Mosques have been opened and ties restored with Muslim communities elsewhere, so that China’s Muslims become increasingly aware of their collective identity and are stressing it more than the complementary identities which they possess. Even if such a shift does not result in demands for greater autonomy, it obliges the central government to take claims for resources and just treatment seriously.
There is a subtle interplay between ethnic and religious identities throughout the Muslim world, but this interplay is not unique to the Muslim world. The inter communal tensions between Hindus and Muslims in India, a formally secular state, parallel in many respects the interplay of religion and ethnicity between Hindu Tamils and Buddhist Sinhalese in neighboring Sri Lanka. In Malaysia, claims to ethnic identity are inextricably linked to religion and, since the islamization movement of the late 1970s, have led to economic, educational, and legal preferences and entitlements. In neighboring Indonesia, in contrast, the official ideology, the Pancasila, encompasses general principles from several world religions, including Islam, and the government frequently limits the participation of religious organizations in politics. Nonetheless, international corporations and organizations often impute leadership skills to personnel based on ethnic origin. Batak and Ambonese, for example, are sometimes favored over Javanese because of their reputation for being good administrators and for not favoring their relatives.
Ethnic identity is now trans-regional and transnational. The Yemeni grocer in Brooklyn, New York, might serve as a link for others from his tribe and village in Yemen, and the Turkish factory worker in Germany might facilitate the adjustment for others from his home region or country in adjusting to life in a foreign land. Similarly, in times of ethnic conflict, these transnational times can ease the flow of money and arms across international frontiers.
Some contemporary studies emphasize how ethnicity is embedded in a system of social meanings, an element of social identity among others. Others see ethnicity and sectarianism principally as products of global economic and political circumstances which encourage the formation of such identities, which are then used for obtaining political and economic advantage. Understanding claims to ethnic identity entails attention both to constructed collective meanings and to the economic and political contexts in which such identities are created and sustained. Ethnic distinctions, like those of region, sect, sex, language, and even tribe, are not being erased by modern conditions, as an earlier generation once facilely assumed, but provide the base from which newer social distinctions are created and sustained.
Even when there is a popular consensus or a desire among intellectual and political leaders to facilitate the reshaping of identities and responsibilities, either to mute the importance of divisive ethnic or sectarian identities or to emphasize them, ethnic identities must be taken into consideration. Some governments and political leaders, like their religious counterparts, often seek to ease possible tensions that arise from making such group definitions by officially denying their existence, but it would appear more reasonable to recognize them for what they are and constructively to seek to harness them. Shared notions of community by ethnic group or region often can provide the basis of trust and solidarity necessary for the effective functioning of and participation in modern society. Unfortunately, they can also be used to intimidate and to destroy.
[See also `Asabiyah; Tribe.]
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Banuazizi, Ali, and Myron Weiner, eds. The State, Religion, and Ethnic Politics: Afghanistan, Iran, and Pakistan. Syracuse, N.Y., 1986. Useful collection, with an especially helpful introduction.
Bennigsen, Alexandre, and S. Enders Wimbush. Muslims of the Soviet Empire: A Guide. Bloomington, 1986. Useful gazetteer to ethnic and religious groupings in Central Asia, Russia, and the Caucasus. Eickelman, Dale F. “Arab Society: Tradition and the Present.” In The Middle East Handbook, edited by Michael Adams, pp. 765781. 2d ed. New York, 1988.
Eickelman, Dale F. The Middle East: An Anthropological Approach. 2d ed. Englewood Cliffs, N.J., 1989. Offers an overview of factors contributing to social and cultural identity throughout the region, including ethnicity (pp. 207-227).
Eickelman, Dale F., Russia’s Muslim Frontiers: New Directions in Cross-Cultural Analysis. Bloomington, 1993. Compares ethnic and religious identities in Central Asia and the Muslim Middle East, especially Turkey, Pakistan, and Afghanistan. See especially the chapter by Gene R. Garthwaite comparing tribal, ethnic, and national identities among the Kurds and the Bakhtiyari.
Fuller, Graham E. Central Asia: The New Geopolitics. Santa Monica, Calif., 1992. Updates Bennigsen and Wimbush in suggesting possible points of conflict and the regional and external factors contributing to them.
Hussin Mutalib. Islam and Ethnicity in Malay Politics. New York and Singapore, 1990. Effective treatment of political ethnicity in one Southeast Asian country.
Newby, L. J. ” `The Pure and True Religion’ in China.” Third World Quarterly 10. 2 (April 1988): 923-947. Succinct survey of Muslim communities in China and changing government attitudes toward them.
Rosen, Lawrence.
Relations in a Muslim Community. Chicago, 1963. See especially pages 133-164 for Arab-Berber and Arab-Jewish relations in Morocco.
Tambiah, Stanley J. “Reflections on Communal Violence in South
Bargaining for Reality: The Construction of Social
Asia.” journal of Asian Studies 9.4 (November 1990): 741-76o. Thoughtful analysis of religious and ethnic violence in Sri Lanka, India, and Pakistan.
Tapper, Richard. “Ethnicity, Order, and Meaning in the Anthropology of Iran and Afghanistan.” In Le fait ethnique en Iran et en Afghanistan, edited by Jean-Pierre Digard, pp. 21-31. Paris, 1988. Hard to locate, but one of the clearest discussions of ethnicity available for these two countries.
Weekes, Richard V., ed. Muslim Peoples: A World Ethnographic Survey. West port, Conn., 1978. Useful guide, ranging from Muslim communities in sub-Saharan Africa through Southeast Asia.
DALE F. EICKELMAN

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ETHICS https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/07/ethics/ https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/07/ethics/#respond Wed, 07 Nov 2012 06:10:47 +0000 https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/07/ethics/ ETHICS. In contemporary Anglo-American discussion, ethics has to do with the study of practical justification. It focuses on describing and evaluating the reasons persons and […]

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ETHICS. In contemporary Anglo-American discussion, ethics has to do with the study of practical justification. It focuses on describing and evaluating the reasons persons and groups give for judgments they make about right and wrong or good and evil, particularly as those terms relate to human acts, attitudes, and beliefs.
If we proceed from this understanding to a discussion of Islamic tradition, we first note that there is no single analogue for ethics in that tradition. Instead there are several genres of discourse, each with a special set of concerns and roles to play in the development of Islam and each related to the set of interests we associate with ethics.
Among the classical intellectual traditions, for example, `ilm al-akhlaq, the “science of virtue,” focuses on concerns about the character of persons. The nature of courage, the practice of wisdom and tolerance, and discussions about the cultivation of such desirable traits are the focus here. Those who write in this vein catalog and describe the predominant ways of acting, feeling, and thinking associated with the ideal of a good person; perhaps the most accessible example of the genre is the Nasirean Ethics attributed to the Shi’i scholar Nasir al-Din Tusi (d. 1274 CE).
A related form of discourse is indicated by the term adab, “letters,” used to indicate a variety of types of writing. The unifying theme of adab is reflection on the noble ideals that ought to inform the practice of statecraft, medicine, business, and other activities important to society. One prominent form of this genre has a writer presenting wise advice to those who would practice a particular craft. Thus the celebrated Seljuk vizier Nizam al-mulk (d. 1092) presents advice to rulers in his Siyasat namah or “Rules for Kings.” Similarly, a late eighth- or early ninth-century text attributed to one al-Ruhawi exhorts physicians on the “Way of Behaving Appropriate to Physicians” (Adab al-tabib). Other adab writers work in an essay or narrative format, fulfilling the role of pundit for a more general audience: thus al-Jahiz (d. 868) could write on topics from homosexuality to theological discourse or could provide both entertainment and moral education in collections of stories about famous misers, gluttons, and the like.
One could continue to detail the ways in which various modes of discourse in classical Islam address questions of ethics; for example, the historical writing of al-Tabari (d. 923) or Ibn Khaldun (d. 1406) might be considered a form of moral discourse. Among the classical disciplines, however, three stand out as essential for any discussion of ethics in Islamic tradition: falsafah (philosophy), kalam (dialectical theology), and filth (jurisprudence).
Falsafah, as developed by writers like al-Farabi (d. 950), Ibn Sina (d. 1037), and Ibn Rushd (d. 1198), takes aspects of the Greek philosophical tradition and develops them in relation to Islamic themes. For example, al-Farabi understands philosophy as a quest for personal excellence, particularly in terms of intellect and moral character. Such a quest is available to anyone who has the requisite intelligence together with enough worldly goods to allow time for contemplation. One tension between falsafah and Islamic tradition becomes immediately apparent: practically speaking, philosophy is for an elite group, whereas Islamic revelation confirms the basic equality of human beings before God. Is it possible, then, for the philosopher to reconcile a personal quest for excellence with the message given through prophecy? As al-Farabi has it, prophecy and falsafah are essentially one. The major difference is that the Prophet perceives truth suddenly, by inspiration, while philosophers must gain wisdom through a long and arduous struggle. Further, the Prophet has a special capacity that enables him to put the pure (and abstract) truth sought by philosophers in terms that the mass of humanity can comprehend. It is in this capacity that revealed texts (e.g., the Qur’an) make use of narratives and poetic discourse rather than philosophic argumentation. Thus revelation is philosophy for the masses, and the prophets become popular examples of obedience to moral law-although the real foundations of morality, as religion, are philosophical rather than revealed.
Kalam begins with a different set of interests and questions. Practitioners of kalam focused on clarifying points of doctrine, including the nature of ethical judgment. The Mu’tazilah, perhaps the most influential of the early kalam movements, made the discussion of justice a central part of their program. With some variations, they argued as follows. Justice has to do with attributions of praise or blame to agents who perform specific acts. A person who tells the truth usually deserves praise, while one who commits murder deserves blame-from the Mu’tazili point of view, such judgments are typical of humanity as a whole. The fact of such judgments leaves open an important question, however. How do human beings justify such judgments? According to most Mu’tazili thinkers, God made the world to be governed by moral law. “He it is who created the heavens and the earth in six days . . . that He might try you, which of you is best in conduct” (Qur’an, 11.7). It would be unjust for God to impose such a trial unless there is a fair chance for humanity to acquit itself; and so God has given all humanity the ability to discern which acts are blameworthy and which worthy of praise. God has also given humans the capacity to choose which acts to perform. For the Mu’tazilah, the ability to discern is based on a combination of rational reflection and intuition. Human beings, reflecting on the fact of moral judgment, come to understand that it is based on certain “grounds” (`illah) or basic principles that are “built into” the structure of reality. Prophetic revelation refers to these principles, confirms, extends, and strengthens them.
A contrary position was developed by the Ash’ariyah. Al-Ash`ari (d. 935) focused his kalam on the notion that nothing happens apart from God’s will. Notions of moral intuition and human responsibility are secondary to affirmation of the majesty and power of God. When human beings perform praiseworthy or blameworthy acts, they do so by God’s will. Further, the Ash’ari position is that the only way for human beings to distinguish good and evil is through reading and interpreting revealed texts, in particular the Qur’an and sound accounts (hadiths) of Muhammad’s words and deeds.
The Ash’ariyah emphasized revealed texts in order to establish continuity between their kalam and the last of the classical genres to be discussed here: fiqh, usually translated “jurisprudence.” Literally, the term indicates “comprehension”; in this context, fiqh has to do with a concern to comprehend divine guidance. In his famous Risalah, al-Shafi’i (d. 820) indicates that the concern of fiqh is to discern that guidance “whereby no one who takes refuge in it will ever be led astray.”
The great contribution of al-Shafi’i and other practitioners of fiqh lay in their development of a model of reasoning by which human beings could comprehend divine guidance. The theory of usul al fiqh or “the sources of jurisprudence” establishes a hierarchy of revealed texts, together with ways of interpreting and reasoning from the texts. The basic text is the Qur’an, the “speech” of God. Accounts of the Prophet’s exemplary practice (sunnah) confirm and extend the Qur’an. Various modes of reasoning serve to further extend Qur’an and sunnah, especially the use of analogy known as qiyas. Other approved types of reasoning include ray (juristic opinion), istihsan (juristic preference), and istislah (a type of reasoning concerned to balance notions of duty with considerations of the general welfare.) Finally, the judgments of individual scholars are regulated by the notion of ijma`(“consensus”), referring either to the consensus of scholars or to the common sense of the Muslim community. [See Usul al-Fiqh; Consensus.]
Each of the classical forms of discourse has its modern analogue. The publications of authors like Taha Husayn and Naguib Mahfouz might be construed as adab, for example. Indeed, in some cases Muslim writers see themselves as continuing specific conversations that originated in the classical period. This is clearest in connection with fiqh, which for a variety of reasons came to have pride of place among the genres associated with ethical concern. Especially among Sunni Muslims, the textualist tendencies so important for the Ash’ariyah and the scholars of fiqh became primary. Much Sunni discourse assumes that judgments about human activity are a matter of discerning God’s commands through interpreting the texts and employing the modes of reasoning developed in the classical theory of usul al -fiqh. Especially in settings where scholars of fiqh participate in a judicial setting (as in most Muslim countries), there is a very strong sense of making judgments informed by precedent or reflecting a conversation between the contemporary scholar and scholars of the past. The fatwas or opinions issued on the basis of usul al -fiqh by famous al-Azhar jurists like Muhammad `Abduh (1849-1905) and Muhammad Rashid Rida (d. 1935) have this character, as do many current pronouncements on issues of state policy, medical practice, and the like. Such judgments take place in response to specific cases brought before a scholar, who then makes a judgment concerning the rightness or wrongness of specific courses of action, all the time justifying this judgment in relation to authoritative texts, approved modes of reasoning, and the precedents set by other scholars of fiqh. For example, in consideration of the question, “Should Bosnian Muslims emigrate to Islamic territory?” following Austria’s annexation of the region in 1908, Rashid Rida’s fatwas weighed the positions taken in analogous cases by various practitioners of fiqh before saying that, in his opinion, any judgment in such a case should reflect on the ability of a group of Muslims to carry out their general obligation to “command good and forbid evil.”
At the same time, important Sunni scholars have argued that the political and social situation of Muslims in the modern world call for reforms not only in forms of government or patterns of investment but also in religious thought. One way to pursue such reform is to revisit relations between fiqh and some other classical forms of ethical discourse. Muhammad `Abduh, for example, argued for a new attempt at kalam, construed as a way to revisit the ideas of God and human responsibility that undergird fiqh. His Risalat al-tawhid (Theology of Unity) attempts to find a middle way between the Mu’tazilah and Ash’ariyah on the place of human moral intuition and revealed texts in matters of ethics. For `Abduh, moral intuition is sufficient to establish the first principles of morality and also to work out the implications of morality for social and political life. Revelation is necessary to indicate religious obligations, however; and since most human beings require the encouragement provided by “the promise and the threat” associated with the day of judgment as a motive to adhere to moral law, true religion plays an important part in the moral and political life of human societies. In this connection, fiqh finds its place as a specifically juridical counterpart to the more general moral concern common among human beings in a particular society. A position similar to `Abduh’s was developed by the Indian Sayyid Ahmad Khan (d. 1898). In either case, the revisiting of relations between kalam and fiqh provides a way of thinking about ethics that is less tied to the Ash`ari emphasis on the limits of human reason than was characteristic of Sunni thinking through the centuries.
Among Shi’i scholars, fiqh also assumed first position among the classical genres associated with ethics. In centers of learning like Najaf in Iraq and Qom in Iran, contemporary scholars stress the importance of precedent and legal reasoning in ways that are comparable to those of the Sunni scholars. The Shi`i tradition is distinct, however, in regard to usul al -fiqh and even more on the relationships among fiqh, kalam, and falsafah. In particular, the historic position of Shi’is on justice (al-`adl) has important affinities with Mu`tazili kalam, in which the rational capacities of human beings in matters of moral discernment are emphasized. The related emphasis in fiqh on `aql (reason) as one of the sources by which human beings comprehend divine guidance constitutes an important difference between Shi`i and Sunni approaches to ethics. When, under Safavid rule, some Shi`i scholars (called Akhbariyah) advocated that the emphasis on `aql be lessened in favor of the use of textual precedents, the majority (known as Usuliyah) reaffirmed the validity of reason as an independent source of judgment. This historic validation of reason has allowed Shi’i scholars consistently to construe the relations between religion and ethics in ways similar to that proposed as a reform by Sunni writers like Muhammad `Abduh and Ahmad Khan. It has also allowed some Shl’! scholars to think about matters of ethics in terms of a thoroughgoing teaching on tawhid (divine unity) as the mode of the Islamic life, in which the concerns of the various classical disciplines are addressed and integrated in holistic fashion. [See Akhbariyah; Usuliyah]
One of the best contemporary examples of this development is in the thought of the Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini (d. 1989). Best known for his lectures on Islamic government and for his leadership of the Iranian Revolution and the Islamic Republic of Iran, Khomeini was also a teacher of `irfan and akhlaq (gnosis and character formation). In various speeches and lectures Khomeini develops an interactive view of the various aspects of an Islamic life. One learns, through reflection and study, that God alone is the source and destiny of all things. Through disciplined and consistent spiritual practice, especially prayer, one comes to hold the notion of God as beneficent and merciful, and especially as “Owner of the Day of judgment,” in a way that fills one’s heart and mind. This is the meaning of faith, according to Khomeini; and one who holds the notion of God in this way will find it very hard to commit serious sin. Further, such a person will be motivated to struggle courageously on behalf of justice. Indeed, he or she will be willing to sacrifice life for the cause of God.
Through this teaching Khomeini combines the concerns of various classical disciplines to create a type of “ethical spirituality.” The ultimate goal of life, he says, is the development of “truly human” character. Human beings are characterized by their religious/moral capacity. They have the potential to do great things, to develop into virtuous beings; they also have the potential for great sin. The struggle to become virtuous has personal dimensions, as one reflects on one’s existence as a creature of God; it has moral and political dimensions, as one struggles to create a just society. Further, the personal and the moral/political interact; in particular, the establishment of a political order governed by Islamic norms is not an end in itself but a way to encourage people to fulfill their potential for virtue through the creation of a social environment that encourages spiritual practice by enforcing the ordinances of Islam.
This contribution of Khomeini and other Shi’i scholars (for example, Murtaza Mutahhari, d. 1979) to the development of a modern Islamic perspective on ethics is possible, at least in part, because of the way Shi’i traditions of religious education have kept alive the relationships between kalam, falsafah, akhlaq, and fiqh. This should not be taken, however, as a denial of similar contributions by Sunni thinkers. The Egyptian writer Sayyid Qutb (d. 1965) developed a rather similar way of thinking in his commentary In the Shade of the Qur’an; the many books of the Pakistani writer and activist Abu al-`Ala Mawdudi (d. 1979) also bear consideration in this regard. Indeed, the notion of an ethical or tawhidi spirituality is common among many of the diverse activist movements that have become prominent in Muslim countries during the 1980s and early 1990s, Deeply involved in an attempt to islamize social and political institutions, such movements are also making contributions to the Islamic tradition of thinking about practical justification, particularly in connection with concrete questions of political, medical, and economic ethics.
[See also Philosophy; Theology; and the biographies of `Abduh, Ahmad Khan, Khomeini, Mawdudi, Mutahhari, Qutb, and Rashid Rida.]
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Carney,Frederick, ed. “Focus on Islamic Ethics.” Joumal of Religious Ethics 11.2 (1983). Collects five perceptive essays on ethics in classical Islamic disciplines: fiqh, kalam, falsafah, mysticism, and exegesis of the Qur’an.
Carney,Frederick, and John Kelsay, eds. “Focus on Islamic Law and Ethics.” journal of Religious Ethics 22.1 (1994). An introduction and three essays on concerns of ethics as reflected in the tradition of -fiqh
Enayat, Hamid. Modern Islamic Political Thought.Austin, 1982. Outstanding study of trends in contemporary Islamic political writing. Hourani, George F. Islamic Rationalism: The Ethics of `Abd al-Jabbar.Oxford, 1971. Groundbreaking study of a late Mu’tazili thinker. Hourani, George F. Reason and Tradition in Islamic Ethics.Cambridge and New  York, 1985. Indispensable collection of essays by one of the leading students of ethics in the Islamic tradition.
Izutsu, Toshihiko. Ethico-Religious Concepts in the Qur’an.Montreal, 1966. Important work on key concepts in Qur’anic ethics, for example taqwa and zulm.
Johnson, James T., and John Kelsay, eds. Cross, Crescent, and Sword.West port,Conn., 1990. This volume and the one following explore the relations between the Euro-American “just war tradition” and the rules governing the use of force in Islamic tradition. Alternatively, see John Kelsay, Islam and War: A Study in Comparative Ethics (Louisville, 1993)
Johnson, James T., and John Kelsay, eds. just War and Jihad.Westport,Conn., 1991. See annotation to preceding work.
Khomeini, Ruhollah. Islam and Revolution: Writings and Declarations of Imam Khomeini. Translated by Hamid Algar.Berkeley, 1981. An excellent sample of the thinking of the late ayatollah.
Lewis, Bernard. The Political Language of Islam.Chicago, 1988. Essays on selected topics related to political thought and practice in Islam.
Rahman, Fazlur. Health and Medicine in the Islamic Tradition: Change and Identity.New   York, 1989. Well-crafted survey of some important issues connected with medical ethics.
Rajaee, Farhang. Islamic Values and Worldview: Khomeyni on Man, the State, and International Politics.Lanham,Md., 1983. Fine study of basic themes in Khomeini’s thought.
JOHN KELSAY

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ESCHATOLOGY https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/07/eschatology/ https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/07/eschatology/#respond Wed, 07 Nov 2012 06:08:39 +0000 https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/07/eschatology/ ESCHATOLOGY. The study of “last things,” eschatology frequently incorporates two separate but related concepts: the after life, and the end of the world. After life. […]

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ESCHATOLOGY. The study of “last things,” eschatology frequently incorporates two separate but related concepts: the after life, and the end of the world.
After life. In concepts closely related to ideas from other branches of Near Eastern monotheism, the Qur’dn emphasizes the inevitability of resurrection and judgment and the eternal division of righteous and wicked into heaven and hell. On the day of resurrection (Yawm al-Qiyamah) humans will stand before God to be judged by their faith in God, their acceptance of God’s revelations, and their works. The wicked will be consigned to eternal torment in hell (Jahannam; nar, “fire”-an abyss of fire, heat, dryness, and darkness. The righteous will enjoy the pleasures of paradise (Jannah), a magical garden of light (Qur’an, 3.190-199, 22.19-20, 36.4757, 37.7-68, 56, 75, 76). The Qur’dn offers sensual descriptions of paradise, including the pleasures of exquisitely delicious food and drink and sexual relations with divine maidens (which many Muslim commentators interpret as metaphorical). Later commentators also provide details of a belief in an intermediate state of the soul (barzakh) between death and the resurrection and final judgment. Before the final resurrection and judgment, however, the terrible tribulation of the last days will fall upon the earth.
Day of Judgment. Although the Qur’dn does not specify the time of the day of judgment, it assures its readers that that day is near. It has much to say about the end of the world, especially in its Meccan surahs. The general picture is very similar to that given in the Bible. Great earthquakes will rock the earth, setting mountains in motion (Qur’dn, 99). The sky will split open and heaven will be “stripped off,” rolled up like a parchment scroll. The sun will cease to shine, the stars will be scattered and fall down upon the earth. The oceans will boil over. The graves will be opened up, with the earth bringing forth its burdens-the hidden sins, the lost stories, and the dead (82). People will vainly seek to flee from the divine wrath. All will bow, willingly or not, before God. In traditional Islamic thought the day of judgment is a period of great cosmic conflict when the forces of Satan-represented by a false Messiah al-Dajjdl and Gog and Magog (Ya’jflj and Ma’juj)–come into conflict with the forces of God led by the Mahdi and Jesus.
The “Deceiver” (Dajjal). An important Islamic eschatological figure is al-Dajjal, “the deceiver,” who is often equated with the Antichrist. In an age of injustice preceding the end of the world, the Deceiver will appear and, for a limited period-sometimes reckoned as forty years, sometimes as forty days-will cause corruption and oppression to sweep over the earth. His appearance is one of the sure signs of the last days. Deceiving many by his false teachings and miracles, he will bring with him supplies of food and water with which he will tempt those who have been suffering. Although the Qur’an makes no mention of any such person, he is prominent in the hadith and later Islamic literature. These ideas seem clearly to be related to Christian apocalyptic legends of the Antichrist.
The Mahdi. The “rightly guided one” also does not appear by name in the Qur’an. He nonetheless plays a very important eschatological role in various strands of Islam. He is not a savior from sins, in the sense that Christians often attribute to Jesus, nor is he a merely national messiah as conceived in certain varieties of Judaism. Rather, he will come to bring justice and truth to all humanity.
In the first years following the close of Qur’anic revelation and the death of the Prophet, Islam enjoyed virtually uninterrupted military success. The word mahdi was used during this period without messianic significance. By the late seventh century, however, after a period of considerable political turbulence, the term began to be used to refer to a hoped-for ruler who would restore Islam to its original perfection. With the passage of time, humane and just rule seemed an increasingly distant prospect. Thus, particularly following the ‘Abbasid revolution (750), the figure of the Mahdi took on an ever more eschatological or messianic aura.
Although the Mahdi does occur in Sunni teaching, he plays a much less significant role there than in Shi i belief. His role is particularly important in Twelver Shiism, which has developed the messianic tendencies in Islam to their furthest extent. In 873 the eleventh imam of the Twelver Shi`is died, to all appearances leaving no heir. Some of his disciples, however, claimed that he had an infant son who had been hidden for safekeeping. Indeed, between 873 and 941 there were “agents” who claimed to be in contact with the young imam. By this time most Shi`is had come to realize that open resistance against the government was futile. These agents promised that at the right time the hidden twelfth imam would emerge and redress the community’s wrongs. As the years passed and he did not publicly appear, this figure acquired an ever more obviously messianic character, drawing on elements of other religious traditions to flesh out the image of the eschatological imam. After the elapse of a normal human life span, it began to be felt that the absent twelfth imam was in fact the Mahdi, who was being held in supernatural occultation from which he would someday return in glory to “fill earth with justice as it has been filled with oppression.” The intervening time was a test for the faithful. The task of believers was to be faithful, obedient, and alert, watching for the “signs of the times,” and evaluating passing events in the light of the apocalyptic prophecies that circulated in the community.
The Mahdi of the Twelvers is thought to reside in Mecca, or at least nearby. It is said that he makes the pilgrimage each year, although he goes unrecognized. Authorities name no year for his return, but many agree that he will disclose himself publicly on `Ashura’, the tenth day of the month of Muharram and the anniversary of the martyrdom of the Prophet’s grandson Husayn (68o CE). Thus the well-known Shi’i commemoration of `Ashura is an expression not merely of sorrow for the death of their beloved martyr, but also of hope for a cessation of suffering and injustice to be effected by a descendant of Husayn. The reappearance of the Mahdi will occur at the Ka’bah in Mecca. It will be accompanied by spectacular signs such as the rising of the sun in the west and unusual eclipses in the holy month of Ramadan. However, the Mahdi will not remain in Mecca. First, he will go to Medina, and from there to Kufa, where he will establish his capital. Husayn, ‘Ali, and the Prophet will also return, with the first two taking especially important roles in the establishment of Islamic rule. The entire world will thereafter accept Islam, willingly or by force. The Mahdi will die some time before the day of resurrection, and his death will be followed by a brief period of turmoil, uncertainty, and temptation.
Both Sunni and Shi i traditions about the Mahdi agree that he will rule the world and bring great wealth, which he will distribute generously; however, his rule will last only a relatively short time. In the Shi`i view, he will force everyone to accept Shiism. While most Muslims expect him to restore the integrity of the shari ‘ah, a minority through the years have taught that he would abrogate Islamic law, bringing a new prophetic message in its stead. [See also Mahdi; ‘Ashura’; Ithna `Ashariyah.]
Second coming of Jesus. As the doctrine of the Mahdi developed, disagreements occurred over his precise relationship to Jesus. Some Muslim thinkers denied that there will be a Muslim Mahdi, claiming instead that this role will be fulfilled by the second coming of Jesus. Post-Qur’anic legends had also grown up about the second coming of Christ, which still persist. Some say that Jesus will return as a just judge. One prophecy says that he will descend in Palestine, where he will kill al-Dajjal; he will then go to Jerusalem, where he will worship and kill both swine and those who disbelieve in him. He will die after a peaceful reign of some forty years and be buried in a spot beside the tomb of Muhammad in Medina that has been reserved for him.
Modern Significance. Islamic eschatological ideas have exerted an important influence on the development of the modern Middle East. There are several significant examples of the impact of eschatological thought on modern religious, social, and political developments. The origin of the Babi and Baha’i movements in early nineteenth-century Iran was closely tied with Iranian Shi’i eschatological ideas. Mirza Ghulam Ahmad (1835-19o8), founder of the Ahmadiyah movement in Pakistan, claimed to be the Mahdi, drawing ideas not only from Islamic eschatological thought but also from Hinduism and Christianity. Islamic eschatology was fundamental in the founding of the Mahdist state in the Sudan by Muhammad Ahmad ibn `Abd Allah (1843-1885), which still influences the Sudan today. On the other hand, many modernist Muslims, influenced by secular western thought, have tended to allegorize traditional eschatological beliefs. [See Babism; Baha’i; Ahmadiyah; Mahdiyah.]
The ideologies of many twentieth-century Islamic fundamentalist movements frequently include a healthy dose of eschatology. The capture of the Grand Mosque at Mecca in 1979 was based in part on Mahdist ideological claims; the ideology of the Iranian revolution was also linked to Shi’i eschatological thought. The significance of martyrdom among both Shi’is and Sunnis-as manifest in both battle and terrorism-is linked to the Qur’anic concept that death in the path of God guarantees entry into paradise. There is every indication that eschatological ideas will continue to play an important role in the Islamic world into the twenty-first century. [See also Messianism.]
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Abel, A. “Al-Dadjdjal.” In Encyclopaedia of Islam, new ed., vol. 2, PP. 76-77.Leiden, 196o-.
Carra de Vaux, Bernard. “Barzakh.” In Encyclopaedia of Islam, new ed., vol. 1, pp. 1071-1072.Leiden, 1960-.
Fahd, T. “Nar.” In Encyclopaedia of Islam, new ed., vol. 7, pp. 95796o.Leiden, 196o-.
Gardet, Louis. “Djahannam.” In Encyclopaedia of Islam, new ed., vol. 2, PP- 381-382.Leiden, 1960-.
Gardet, Louis. “Dianna.” In Encyclopaedia of Islam, new ed., vol. 2, PP. 447-452.Leiden, 1960-.
Gardet, Louis. “Kiyama.” In Encyclopaedia of Islam, new ed., vol. 5, PP. 235-238.Leiden, 1960-.
Jafri, S. Husain M. Origins and Early Development of Shi’a Islam.London, 1979. Detailed study on early Shi’i ideas of the imam and Mahdi.
Madelung, Wilferd. “Mahdi.” In Encyclopaedia of Islam, new ed., vol. 5, pp. 1230-1238.Leiden, 196o-.
Meier, Fritz. “The Ultimate Origin and the Hereafter in Islam.” In Islam and Its Cultural Divergence: Studies in Honor of Gustave E. Von Grunebaum, edited by Girdhari L. Tikku, pp. 96-112.Urbana,Ill., 1971. Good brief summary on the afterlife.
Sachedina, A. A. Islamic Messianism: The Idea of Mahdi in Twelver Shi ism.Albany,N.Y., 1981. Standard study of the Slu’i interpretation of the Mahdi.
Schimmel, Annemarie. Mystical Dimensions of Islam.Chapel Hill,N.C., 1975. Provides insight into Sufi ideas on the afterlife. Smith, Jane I., and Yvonne Yazbeck Haddad. The Islamic Understanding of Death and Resurrection.Albany,N.Y., 1981. Fundamental study on the subject.
Taylor, John B. “Some Aspects of Islamic Eschatology.” Religious Studies 4 (1968): 57-76. Summary of the basic eschatological ideas.
WILLIAM J. HAMBLIN and DANIEL C. PETERSON

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ERSOY, MEHMED AKIF https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/07/ersoy-mehmed-akif/ https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/07/ersoy-mehmed-akif/#respond Wed, 07 Nov 2012 06:05:52 +0000 https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/07/ersoy-mehmed-akif/ ERSOY, MEHMED AKIF (20 December 1873 – 27 December 1936), Turkish Islamist poet. Born in Istanbul of devout parents, Akif received a secular education, graduating […]

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ERSOY, MEHMED AKIF (20 December 1873 – 27 December 1936), Turkish Islamist poet. Born in Istanbul of devout parents, Akif received a secular education, graduating first in his class (1893) from the Civil School of Veterinary Sciences. He was a gifted linguist in Arabic, Persian and French, but it was through un-rivalled mastery in his native Turkish that Akif was to convey his poetic vision of the ideal Muslim society, based on his study of Islamic doctrine and the Qur’an. Possessed of conviction and wholehearted commitment, he encapsulated the brooding restlessness of his time-the bitter disillusionment and gloomy introspection of the Muslim world, and especially of the Muslim Turks of the Ottoman Empire. His competent though undistinguished veterinary career (to 1913) was subordinated to his poetic calling, but it nevertheless brought him into close contact with the peoples of the Rumelian, Anatolian, and Arabian provinces, providing valuable insight for his social poetry.
Although publishing from 1893, Akif was long unable, during a period of strict censorship, to put into print his maturing, poetic, social commentary-instead disseminating it privately. The restoration in 19o8 of the 1876 Constitution, however, ushering in the Young Turk era, initiated his literary career proper in verse and prose. Already Akif was interpreting the crisis of the Ottoman state’s struggle for survival, under variform attack from Christendom, on the religious plane as an issue encompassing the entire Muslim world; his writing consequently aimed at an order for Muslim society within the ideal of Islamic unity. His perspective of the disorder in Ottoman society led him to blame not Islam but rather those aspects of the Muslim world created by Muslims and therefore open to correction by them; thus he attributed the failure of education to society’s losing sight of the intellectual in Islam. While viewed as conservative, Akif was so mainly in the sense that he set his revolutionary Islamic thinking within the framework of traditional poetic expression. His magnum opus, the seven-volume Safahat (Phases, 1911-1933) transmuted the lives of real people into a stylized social novel in verse form, composed throughout in polished classical prosody and style and displaying a talent for the use of vignette to inveigh against societal ills.
Akifs pessimism increased during World War I in response to the collaboration by some Ottoman Muslim Arabs with the Christian Powers. His Turkish patriotism shocked into being by the loss of empire, he worked as an educator and preacher in the National Struggle (1919-1922) toward the foundation of a new Turkish state; but he was distressed by the emergence of a nationalist, secular republic serving its Muslim citizens, rather than his desired Muslim Turkey leading the community of Islam. Disappointed, he settled inEgyptin 1925, where he taught Turkish and wrote little; he was however persuaded, despite misgivings, to translate the Qur’dn into Turkish under commission from the Turkish government. This work he eventually completed but retracted, fearing, in his isolation from events, that it might be misused in the state policy of turkification of the language of worship.
Akif was not, nor did he wish to be, aloof from the thinking of his day; he challenged the current ideologies of Turkism and so-called Westernism. Yet his strong sense of Turkishness, as in his emphasis on Turkish idiom and vocabulary in composition, manifests itself clearly despite the uncompromising Islamist message of his writing. Few religious and patriotic poets of this century have surpassed Akif in spiritual depth and nationalist passion, expressed, for example, in the Istiklal Mart (IndependenceMarch), his award-winning poem that was adopted as the Turkish national anthem in 1921.
What endures is the sincerity of the Islamic belief of this Turkish patriot, a man now seen as symbolizing the conjunction of Turkish nationalism and Muslim internationalism. As such, Akif satisfies the yearning of both learned and unlearned inTurkeyin their increasingly defensive reaction against the perceived hostility of the non-Muslim world.
[See also Ottoman Empire;Turkey; Young Turks.]
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Ersoy, Mehmed Akif. Aciklamali ve Lugatceli Mehmed Akif Kulliyati, hazirlayan Ismail Hakki Senguler. to vols.Istanbul, 1990-1992. Complete works of the poet, with modern Turkish glossary.
Ersoy, Mehmed Akif. Safahat. Prepared by M. Ertugrul Duzdag.Istanbul, 1987. Definitive edition of the Safahat, which has seen numerous editions and printings. Duzdag also prepared a critical edition for the specialist (Istanbul, 1987).
Iz, Fahir. “Mehmed `Akif.” In Encyclopaedia of Islam, new ed., vol. 6, pp. 985-986.Leiden, 1960-.
lz, Fahir. “Mehmed Akif Ersoy (1873-1936): A Biography.” Erdem 4.11 (Mayas 1988): 311-323. Useful introduction in English, given the paucity of non-Turkish works on Akif.
Tansel, Fevziye Abdullah. Mehmed Akif:: Hayatt Eserleri. 2d ed.Istanbul, 1973. Arguably the best study to date of the poet’s life and works.
M. NAIM TURFAN

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ERBAKAN, NECMETTIN https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/07/erbakan-necmettin/ https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/07/erbakan-necmettin/#respond Wed, 07 Nov 2012 06:04:02 +0000 https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/07/erbakan-necmettin/ NECMETTIN ERBAKAN, ((29 October 1926 – 27 February 2011), Turkish political leader. A native of the Black Seaport of Sinop, Necmettin Erbakan spent his childhood […]

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NECMETTIN ERBAKAN, ((29 October 1926 – 27 February 2011), Turkish political leader. A native of the Black Seaport of Sinop, Necmettin Erbakan spent his childhood in provincial cities where his father served as a judge in criminal courts. He acquired his primary school education inTrabzon, his high school education at Istanbul Lisesi, and his higher education at Istanbul Technical University. He remained at the same institution for his doctoral studies, which he completed inGermanyat the Aachen Technische Hochschule. He entered an academic career atIstanbulTechnicalUniversityand was promoted to full professorship in 1965. In addition to his teaching position, Erbakan played a key role in the establishment of the Gumus Motor Factory, which produced diesel engines, and served as the factory director between 1956 and 1963. He was also active in the administration of the Turkish Chamber of Commerce and was elected its general-director in 1969, a position that he was able to keep only briefly.
Erbakan left his academic career in 1969 when he was elected to the Grand National Assembly as an independent candidate fromKonya. A year later Erbakan founded the Milli Nizam Partisi (MNP or National Order Party). The MNP was a neo-Islamist party that called for a spiritual reawakening combined with technical development programs. It was banned from political activity by theConstitutional Courtin 1972 for its violation of legislation forbidding the use of religion for political purposes. The party leadership founded the Milli Selamet Partisi (MSP or National Salvation Party) the same year, with Erbakan as its leader. The MSP’s program, like the MNP’s, was critical of the republican course of development, which it saw as a failed effort to industrialize and a disastrous project destroying national values in the name of westernization. The MSP ideology emphasized rapid industrialization accompanied by moral and spiritual reconstruction.
The MSP under Erbakan’s leadership participated in three coalition governments between 1973 and 1978, with Erbakan acting as deputy prime minister in all three. The party was banned from political activity after the 1980 coup d’etat; its leadership was put under custody and tried in military courts, ending in acquittals. With the return to civilian politics in 1983, the defunct MSP was replaced by the Refah Partisi (RP or Welfare Party), with Erbakan as its leader. The RP ideology has developed into a criticism of capitalism as a Zionist plot and calls for regional cooperation among Muslim countries.
Necmettin Erbakan has been more of a politician than a political thinker. The legitimation of Islamist politics in a secular state and the formulation of an Islamist political program within the limits of parliamentary democracy owe much to his contributions. He has been the major influence in the formulation of the MNPMSP-RP ideology and has published books and pamphlets explaining the party’s views on development, cultural issues, the educational system, foreign policy, and social welfare. However, his and his party’s political vision is marginal in Turkish political life, which has been shaped both by the preference of the electorate for center parties and by legal limitations on extremist politics of the left and right.
[See also Refah Partisi;Turkey.]
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Publications by Necmettin Erbakan include: Milli Gorus (Istanbul, 1975); UC Konferans: Islam ve ilim, islam’da Kadn, Sanayi Davamiz (Istanbul, 1975); Tiirkiye’nin Meseleleri ve Cozumleri (Ankara, 1991); Adil Ekonomik Duzen (Ankara, 1991); and Erbakan Acikliyor: Kenan Evren’in Anilarindaki Yanilgilar (Ankara, 1991).
BINNAZ TOPRAK

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EPIGRAPHY https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/06/epigraphy/ https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/06/epigraphy/#respond Tue, 06 Nov 2012 15:53:11 +0000 https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/06/epigraphy/ EPIGRAPHY. See Calligraphy and Epigraphy.

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EPIGRAPHY. See Calligraphy and Epigraphy.

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ENVER PASHA https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/06/enver-pasha/ https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/06/enver-pasha/#respond Tue, 06 Nov 2012 15:51:12 +0000 https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/06/enver-pasha/ ENVER PASHA (November 23, 1881 – August 4, 1922), Ottoman Turkish general and commander of the Ottoman armies during World War I. Born in Istanbul […]

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ENVER PASHA (November 23, 1881 – August 4, 1922), Ottoman Turkish general and commander of the Ottoman armies during World War I. Born in Istanbul on 23 November 1881, Enver Pasha graduated from the military academy in 1902 and was posted to Macedonia, where the army was fighting bands of Greek and Bulgarian nationalist guerrillas. Balkan nationalist movements that emerged from the millet system had a strong religious component. As a result, early Turkish nationalism was strongly tinged with Islam. In 1906 Enver joined the Committee of Union and Progress (CUP), the leading organization in the Young Turk movement. Following the revolution of July 19o8, Enver was promoted by the CUP as a “hero of liberty”; his rank at the time was that of staff major.
The government felt threatened by the charismatic appeal of junior officers like Enver and posted some of them as military attaches to Ottoman diplomatic missions. In i909 Enver Bey was sent to Berlin, but the outbreak of a counterrevolution in Istanbul in April brought him back to center stage. His role in crushing the insurrection enhanced his popularity. In 1911-1912 he served with distinction in Libya, organizing resistance to the Italian army of occupation. The disastrous defeats of the Balkan wars of 1912-1913 saw him back in the capital; in January 1913 he overthrew the defeatist Kamil Pasha cabinet, which was about to surrender Edirne to the Bulgars, and brought the CUP to power. Enver was at that time a lieutenant colonel.
Enver led the forces that recaptured Edirne from Bulgaria in July 1913, and his prestige soared. When the government needed a young and dynamic war minister to purge and reform the army, Enver was the obvious choice. He was promoted to the rank of general with the title of pasha. He had become a key policymaker in the Committee with pro-German leanings. He was, however, pro-German only because he believed that the German alliance served Ottoman interests. In fact, Istanbul was so entirely dependent on Berlin that Ottoman policy throughout the war was dictated by German strategic needs. Despite the failures of this policy, Enver saw the revolution in Russia as an opportunity to create a new empire embracing the Turkic/Islamic peoples who had been under tsarist rule. This romantic dream failed to materialize. Ottoman armies were defeated on other fronts and forced to sign an armistice with Britain in October 1918. In November Enver and the CUP leaders fled to Germany. Enver went on to Turkistan, where he organized Muslim forces against the Bolsheviks. He was killed in battle in Tajikistan on 4 August 1922.
Nationalist historiography has portrayed Enver Pasha as a Pan-Turanist. Although he may have shared elements of this ideology, his actions suggest that he placed his faith in Ottomanism, which became increasingly Islamist as the non-Muslim nations broke away from Ottoman domination. Moreover, the CUP itself believed in Ottomanism; it married some of its military supporters to Ottoman princesses to link its fortunes to those of the dynasty. Enver married Naciye Sultan, the daughter of Prince Suleyman, a son of Sultan Abdulmecid. Ottomanism within the CUP was strengthened, and as the sultan was also caliph, dynasticism and Islam went hand in hand. Islam was the bond that united the various Muslim ethnic groups in the empire; this is why jihad was proclaimed as soon as Istanbul entered the war. Not only would this step unify all Muslim Ottomans, it was also expected to subvert the loyalty of Muslims living under British, French, and Russian rule. Later, when Enver fought the Bolsheviks, he named his force the Army of Islam (Islam Ordusu), though a Turanist might have called it the Turkish Army. Until the creation of the Turkish Republic, Islam remained the dominant ideological strand in the Ottoman Empire.
[See also Ottoman Empire; Pan-Turanism; Young Turks.]
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Ahmad, Feroz. The Young Turks. Oxford, 1969. Very useful for the years 19o8-1914.
Swanson, Glen. “Enver Pasha: The Formative Years.” Middle Eastern Studies 16 (198o): 193-199. Instructive for Enver’s early years. Trumpener, Ulrich. Germany and the Ottoman Empire, 1914-1918. Princeton, 1968. Excellent for the war years though Trumpener’s interpretation relies almost entirely on German sources.
Yamauchi, Masayuki. The Green Crescent under the Red Star: Enver Pasha in Soviet Russia, 1919-1922. Tokyo, 1991. Yamauchi’s introductions to Turkish documents (published in Turkish) provide original accounts of Enver’s final years from a variety of sources.
FEROZ AHMAD

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ELIJAH MUHAMMAD https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/06/elijah-muhammad/ https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/06/elijah-muhammad/#respond Tue, 06 Nov 2012 15:38:14 +0000 https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/06/elijah-muhammad/ ELIJAH MUHAMMAD (October 7, 1897 – February 25, 1975), leader of the Black Muslim group, the Nation of Islam, for more than forty years. Born Paul […]

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ELIJAH MUHAMMAD (October 7, 1897 – February 25, 1975), leader of the Black Muslim group, the Nation of Islam, for more than forty years. Born Paul Robert Poole in October 7, 1897 on a tenant farm in Sanders ville, Georgia, Elijah Muhammad was the seventh of twelve children. He assumed the name Elijah in honor of his grandfather and later chose the last name Muhammad, following the example of his religious guide and mentor, Fard Muhammad (formerly Wallace D. Fard), an enigmatic figure who is believed to be the original founder of the Lost and Found Nation of Islam. In the 1920s, Elijah Muhammad married the former Clara Evans and migrated north to Detroit in search of employment. He changed jobs several times while living in Detroit and, between 1929 and 1931, went on welfare. It is believed that his first meeting with Fard Muhammad took place during this period.
Elijah Muhammad was said to be a follower of Marcus Garvey prior to his encounter with Fard Muhammad. Real or imagined, the fact that his movement embraced theologically grounded black nationalism makes him a fellow traveler. Following the disappearance of Fard Muhammad, Elijah Muhammad became one of the contenders for power within the embryonic Nation of Islam. It is claimed by some scholars that at this time Elijah’s life was in jeopardy, and for this and other related reasons, he was on the run between 1935 and 1942. Federal Bureau of Investigation sources obtained under the Freedom of Information Act revealed that in 1941 Muhammad had been jailed in Washington, D.C., where he went by the name of Bogans. He and several dozen members of the Nation of Islam were imprisoned for refusing to register for the draft. During World War II, the Nation of Islam itself was believed by U.S. authorities to be friendly to the Japanese.
During his incarceration, Muhammad embarked on a mission of conversion among prison inmates. He gradually established a prison mission around the country. His most charismatic and powerful jailed convert was Malcolm X. Later known as El-Hajj Malik el-Shabazz, this recruit into the Nation of Islam transformed the manner in which the Black Muslims presented themselves to the press and society at large. As a result of Malcolm X’s energetic drive to reach the poor, the jailed, the downtrodden, and the despised black members of the inner cities of America, many young and old African Americans embraced the Nation of Islam. Temples were set up in several U.S. cities, and by 1962 the U.S. media discovered this small but growing religious group.
Elijah Muhammad taught his followers that blacks in the United States were the descendants of the Shabazz tribe of Arabia. He claimed that Fard Muhammad was God himself and that the white people are offspring of the devil, a soulless creature whose existence was made possible by a rebellious black scientist named Yacub. Yacub, according to this story, created the first white man after having discovered a recessive gene and experimenting with sixty thousand people for six hundred years. The philosophy of the Nation of Islam also teaches that the whites of this world have a respite of six thousand years, during which they can do all their evil deeds.
Elijah Muhammad lived to see the transformation of his fledgling organization into one of the most powerful black organizations in the United States. He built a social movement that served as a haven for the underclass, injecting it with a sense of pride, no matter how exaggerated. His success in reforming thousands of black men and women lost to society earned him the respect of some American sociologists. However, it must be stated categorically that Elijah Muhammad’s teachings were opposed both by the leaders of the U.S. civil rights movement and by the leaders of the Muslim world. The former opposed his views because of the damage they caused to race relations during a critical period in U.S. history; the latter saw him and the Nation of Islam as a heretical group operating at the outer limits of the Islamic world.
[See also Nation of Islam; United States of America; and the biography of Malcolm X.]
BIBLIOGRAPHY
El-Amin, Mustafa. The Religion of Islam and the Nation of Islam: What Is the Difference? Newark, 1990.
Elijah Muhammad. Message to the Blackman in America. Chicago, 1965.
Lincoln, C. Eric. The Black Muslims in America. New York, 1961. Nyang, Sulayman S. “Islam and the American Dream.” Arabia (London) 15 (November 1982): 24-26.
SULAYMAN S. NYANG

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EGYPT https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/06/egypt/ https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/06/egypt/#respond Tue, 06 Nov 2012 15:29:24 +0000 https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/06/egypt/ EGYPT. Religion plays a major role in Egypt today. Approximately 9o percent of modern Egypt’s estimated 61 million inhabitants are Sunni Muslim. There are several […]

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EGYPT. Religion plays a major role in Egypt today. Approximately 9o percent of modern Egypt’s estimated 61 million inhabitants are Sunni Muslim. There are several religious minorities, the largest of which is an indigenous Christian minority constituting the Coptic Church. In 1990, estimates of the Coptic population ranged from 3 million to 7 million, while other Christians included approximately 350,000 followers of the Greek Orthodox Church, 175,000 Eastern and Latin Rite Catholics, and 200,000 Protestants. In addition, an estimated i,ooo Jews remained in Egypt as of 1990. The Jewish population represents a fragment of the community of 80,000 Jews who lived in Egypt before 1948. Broad religious tolerance has been a hallmark of traditional Egyptian culture and freedom of religion is guaranteed by the Egyptian Constitution of 1971, although tensions along religious lines have risen sharply since the 1970s.
The centrality of religion in defining Egypt is deeply rooted historically. By the end of the reign of the second Islamic caliph, `Umar ibn `Abd al-Khattab (r. 634-644), the expanding empire of Islam had succeeded in incorporating the Egyptian provinces of the Byzantine Empire. Ascendent Islam found fertile soil in Egypt. From the time of the pharaohs, demigods in the eyes of their subjects, religion had played a central role in the life of the inhabitants of the Nile Valley. The priests of ancient Egypt, who presided over the cults that defined each province, made up a central part of the ruling class. Persian invaders disrupted these traditional patterns when they defeated the last Egyptian pharoah in 525 BCE. Though religion among the Egyptians took different forms through a succession of foreign conquerors, it always remained a key element of political culture.
The Arab conquest gave this inherited religious bond a distinctive Islamic form. Islam ruled out any version of the old pharaonic claim of rulers to be descendants of the gods and the notion of a closed caste of priests. Instead, the new faith impelled Muslims as a collective body to express their faith by founding a community of believers or ummah. The central moral precepts of Islam, expressed in the Qur’an and the traditions of the Prophet, provided not simply guidance for personal salvation but also the moral basis for a good society on earth. Rulers of Muslim communities were thus impelled to rely not only on men of power but also on men of intellect and faith who could mediate between the timeless revelations of Islam and the exigencies of specific times and places. Power rested with the rulers and their military supporters, but legitimacy derived from the religious scholars or `ulama’, who emerged as the guardians of the legacy and the guarantors of right guidance. In theory, and despite deviations in practice almost from the beginning, only Islamic law (the shari’ah) elaborated by the scholars from the principles of the Qur’an and the traditions of the prophet Muhammad could bind the new community while safeguarding its distinctive moral purpose.
The `ulama’, however, were not the only religious leaders in Muslim Egypt. Alongside their austere religion of the mind and the law there arose an Islamic mysticism, Sufism, that shifted emphasis from the mind to the heart and from the law to love. This Islam of the heart evoked a powerful popular response, organized in Sufi orders that coalesced around individual saints. The initial opposition of the `ulama’, to the Sufi orders faded into an uneasy compromise as it became clear that persecution did not diminish the appeal of Sufism for the masses.
As the hold of early Muslim empires weakened and local dynasties rose in Egypt, religious leaders retained their importance as a powerful social and spiritual force. The founding of al-Azhar as mosque and university in 970 assured Cairo a secure place in the spiritual and intellectual firmament of Islam. The Ottomans, originating in one of the Turkish principalities of Anatolia, annexed Egypt in 1516-1517 and made it part of the last great Islamic empire. The Ottoman Empire survived until just before the outbreak of World War I, when the British, who had occupied Egypt in 1882, declared the country a protectorate and ended what by then had become nominal Ottoman sovereignty. The Ottoman Empire protected the lands of Islam and expanded their borders whenever possible, creating a diverse, powerful, and inclusive political structure that ruled parts of eastern Europe, western Asia, and most of North Africa for periods ranging from three hundred to six hundred years. The acquisition of Egypt had strategic, financial, and-because of al-Azhar’s importance throughout the Muslim world-religious importance to the empire. The Ottomans maintained tight control over this prize through an appointed governor and military corps. Cairo took its place alongside such major Islamic centers as Baghdad, Damascus, Mecca, and Medina in a world empire with Istanbul as its splendid cultural capital.
With time the Ottoman military garrisoned in Egypt put down local roots and entered into alliances not only with wealthy merchants but with the `ulama’, as well. Relying on the religious scholars, the Ottomans strengthened the shari’ah and enhanced the study of Arabic. In eighteenth-century Cairo the `ulama’, flourished, numbering approximately four thousand out of an estimated adult male population of fifty thousand. From their base in the venerable al-Azhar, the organizing center of a national network of religious education, the Egyptian `ulama’ preserved a dense Islamic culture that created a formidable social and moral link between Cairo and the provinces. Moreover, the religious scholars figured prominently in all the political crises experienced by Egypt. Through their control of religious endowments, lawsuits, canonic dues, and inheritances, they held economic resources equal at least to those of the artisans or merchants. Religious leaders acted as intermediaries and occasionally even as protectors who intervened between ordinary Egyptians and their Ottoman rulers.
Napoleon’s conquests in Egypt (1798-1801) disrupted this three hundred-year-old order and cast the Egyptian provinces, vulnerable and unprepared, into a global political system dominated by the West. Egyptians encountered the West from a position of great material weakness. In the last stages of Ottoman rule, the Egyptian provinces had entered a period of severe decline. Preoccupied with holding the European territories from which they derived much of their strength, the Ottomans neglected Egypt and the other Arab centers. Local despotism flourished in the Arab lands, and the economies sank to subsistence levels as imperial linkages weakened. The towns saw little commercial trade and only the most limited artisanal production. The countryside became more vulnerable to nomadic incursions and suffered more than ever from the tax and military exaction of the hard-pressed centers. By the end of the eighteenth century it was clear that the old formulas were everywhere strained, although in Egypt the `ulama’ as a corporate body survived as one of the few remaining cohesive elements.
Amid the confusions that followed Napoleon’s incursion, the `ulama’ played a critical role in bringing to power Muhammad `Al! (1804-1841), the Albanian officer who founded modern Egypt and established the dynasty that held power until 1952. The French invasion had weakened the tie between Egyptians and Ottomans by making it apparent that the Turkish rulers could no longer provide protection against Europeans. The `ulama’ considered the natural leaders of the country, threw their support to Muhammad `Ali on condition that he rule with their consultation. When Muhammad `All agreed, they mobilized the population of Cairo to demonstrate against the Ottoman governor, calling successfully on the sultan to ratify the choice of Muhammad ‘Ali as governor of Egypt. The `ulama’ had cleared the way for the man who would set the course of Egyptian history for the next century.
Egypt’s energetic new ruler strove to transform a backward country of about two million inhabitants with a subsistence economy into a state powerful enough to counter further assaults from Europe and strong enough to maintain its de facto independence from the Ottoman sultanate. In his drive to strengthen the state and particularly its military arm, Muhammad ‘Ali launched Egypt’s first industrialization effort, borrowing both models and technicians from the West. Exploiting this new strength, Muhammad ‘Ali projected Egyptian power abroad, involving Egypt in five wars from 1811 to 1828. At home, he sought to discipline the population through new forms of education and social organization that would channel all energies to his dynastic purposes. He weakened or eliminated institutions intermediary between the peasant base and the bureaucracy of his centralized state. In the process he moved against the `ulama’ acting to circumscribe their influence as he consolidated his own power.
Mosque of Muhammad Ali Pasha. Cairo, Egypt. 1860-1890

The `ulama’ never completely recovered the independent economic and political role they had played in the eighteenth century. Yet Muhammad ‘Ali’s successful attempt to reign in the religious establishment did not tell the whole story of Islam in nineteenth-century Egypt. Though weakened, the `ulama’ continued to exert from al-Azhar a powerful religious and cultural influence in the countryside and, thanks especially to the reformists among them, on the urban elite, including the new bourgeoisie that emerged in the early decades of the nineteenth century. Had Muhammad `All been able to continue his modernization drive unopposed, he probably would have further undercut the role of Islam and the `ulama’ in Egyptian national life. Ironically, the intervention of the British arrested that development. [See Muhammad ‘Ali Dynasty.)
Britain had grown alarmed by Egyptian military successes in the Levant and perhaps even more by the creation of the industrial base in Egypt that made them possible. British threats culminated in a dramatic naval show of force in Alexandria, and Muhammad `All admitted defeat by signing the Treaty of London in 184o. The Egyptian army was limited in size, war industries were disbanded, and the tariff and monopolies that protected the remaining industries were removed. In these circumstances of containment and imposed weakness, the `ulama’ assumed a renewed importance; they provided a reservoir of intellectual, cultural, and religious opposition.
Europe throughout the nineteenth century proceeded to colonize Egypt. Conventional history delineates two fundamental strategies of Egyptian resistance, the first secular nationalist and the second Islamic reformist. In fact, that line should not be drawn too sharply: both strategies drew on an underlying fusion of religion and collective identity. In the battles with the West the masses always felt their strongest solidarity with the `ulama’ even when they appeared to speak for the secular interest of the nation, and they responded most dramatically to the calls of political figures when those calls were expressed in Islamic terms. While weaving together diverse patterns of anti colonial sentiment and impulses for modernization and reform, resistance until after World War I remained securely anchored in Islamic structures of thought and civilization. To the present day, the cry that “God is dead” has found little resonance in Egypt.
No figure better captured the energizing thrust of this potent blend of tradition and reforming impulse than the peripatetic Iranian, Jamal al-Din al-Afghani (18371897), who played a large role in the story of Islam in Egypt. Al-Afghani traversed Iran, India, Turkey, and the Arab world sounding the theme of defensive reform while calling for local and Pan-Islamic revolts. Admired for his classical Islamic learning, al-Afghani also displayed an impressive familiarity with the social and scientific thought of the West. He argued that reason, science, and liberal ideas of government and social progress were fully compatible with Islam when the message of the faith was properly understood.
Al-Afghani called on his students, including the Egyptian Shaykh Muhammad `Abduh (1849-1905), to work out interpretations of Islam along these lines. The master’s own greatest talents had a more activist thrust. The call for unity al-Afghani embodied was driven by his conviction that the entire Muslim world, not just its frontiers, lay vulnerable to the power of the West. Deliberately cultivating mystery around his origins and his movements, al-Afghani made himself a unifying figure, embracing at once Sunnis, Sufis, and Shi’is. Wherever they could, al-Afghani and his followers engaged in direct attacks on Western, especially British imperialism. These political confrontations helped legitimate the painful conclusion that successful confrontation of the West would entail almost as much imitation as refusal.
Al-Afghani’s message resonated with particular force in Egypt. Al-Azhar had not remained isolated from modern trends in science and social thought, despite its traditional methods. From the time of Muhammad ‘Ali its scholars had been sent abroad to study Western sciences. Al-Afghani made himself a major though controversial intellectual force at al-Azhar. Resistance to the Western threat had become the driving force of Egyptian nineteenth-century history, and al-Azhar became an important center of resistance. [See Azhar, al-; and the biography of Afghani.]
None of Muhammad `Ali’s heirs could match him in ruthless energy, ambition, or vision. With Egypt’s industrialization effort stymied, the economy became a huge monoculture cotton farm for Britain’s textile factories. The conditions of the masses deteriorated, and the royal government grew more corrupt and inefficient, while the country slipped deeper and deeper into foreign debt. By the time of Khedive Tawfiq (1879-1892) the country had fallen totally under foreign domination. With the foreign ruling elite discredited, the ‘initiative for Egypt’s defense passed from the state to broader Egyptian social forces.
The first effort at internal reform arose from an unlikely quarter, the emasculated Egyptian army. The precipitating issue was the blockage of access to the officer corps dominated by a closed Turko-Circassian elite. When Egyptian colonels led by Ahmad `Urabi challenged these restrictions, the government responded by arresting `Urabi. The move backfired when the colonels, speaking in the name of the people, broadened their demands to include a constitution, a change of government, and an increase in the overall size of the army to the eighteen thousand men specified in the Treaty of London. Drawing on his traditional religious education, the charismatic young colonel couched his call for reform in terms of Islamic renewal, greatly enhancing his appeal. `Urabi became a symbol for a broader campaign that coalesced around the slogan “Egypt for Egyptians.” Characteristically, al-Afghani and his follower Muhammad `Abduh rallied to the `Urabists and did their best to bring the `ulama’ as a corporate body with them.
Meanwhile, the British Consul persuaded his government that the revolt had produced anarchy in the country. The British and the French dispatched a joint fleet to make a show of force at the port in Alexandria. When riots broke out in the city, the Khedive secretly encouraged the Europeans to shell the city and land forces to destroy the revolution, despite the fact that `Urabi had rushed from Cairo and succeeded in restoring order. The British, though not the French, obliged the frightened Khedive and bombarded Alexandria. The forces of `Urabi’s movement, ten thousand roughly trained men and a rabble of peasants, were crushed in 1882 by an occupying British force of thirty thousand at the Battle of Tel el-Kebir. Al-Afghani and `Abduh were exiled. The era of direct British colonization had begun, to end completely only in 1954
Returning from exile to a colonial situation dominated by a monarchy imposed by British power, `Abduh had little choice but to shift his reformist efforts to the theological, educational, and cultural arenas. The journal he published, Al-manar, concentrated on Qur’anic exegesis and theological explication. Although `Abduh had no illusions about the cynical manipulations of the throne and the brutality of the occupier, he also understood that behind their raw power stood the cultural attraction of new principles for organizing society and new kinds of knowledge. An Azhar-trained member of the `ulama’ Abduh taught at al-Azhar, but also at the new college of Dar al-`Ulum where a modern curriculum had been developed to prepare functionaries for the state bureaucracies. His modernist project aimed to free religious thought from the shackles of imitation (taqlid) and to open the way to reforms that would express the spiritual power of Islam in terms appropriate to the modern world. [See Taqlid.]
`Abduh legitimated this reform program by drawing a careful distinction between the essential spiritual message of Islam and its elaboration in social prescriptions and laws. He explained that the fundamental doctrines of belief in God, of revelation through a line of prophets culminating in Muhammad, and of moral responsibility had been preserved by a line of pious ancestors (al-salaf al-salih), and that these compelling and unchanging principles could be expressed and defended by reason. In contrast, laws and moral injunctions had the status of particular applications of these principles by successive Muslim communities. Naturally, when those circumstances changed, such formulations could be adapted and modified to meet new needs.
`Abduh believed that Egypt’s situation at the end of the nineteenth century demanded just such restatements. He directed attention first to the modernization of the curriculum and reform of the religious courts. As the senior legal officer or mufti of Egypt, he issued progressive legal opinions on the permissibility of Western dress, banking interest, marriage, and divorce.
`Abduh intended his compromise with colonial power, and more basically with the westernizing project, to assert Egyptian identity and liberation through the reform of Islam. But the penetration of the West all but overwhelmed his prodigious effort. Having integrated a dependent Egypt into the global economy, the British pressed their effort to remake the country through a web of institutional reforms in the military, the bureaucracy, and the legal and educational systems. From this colonial situation emerged a new Westernoriented elite that wrested control of the national project from Egypt’s natural rulers, the `ulama’ The continuities of a reformed Islam, on which `Abduh had insisted, faded. [See the biography of `Abduh.]
In 1919 a second wave of nationalist revolt stirred the country and pushed the secular elites into even greater prominence. Wartime conditions had contributed to the creation of serious food shortages and a staggering rate of inflation. This time nationalist leaders like Sa’d Zaghlul gave voice to the popular resentment of foreign rule aggravated by these conditions. The rejection of Zaghlul’s request for an Egyptian delegation or wafd to the Paris Conference sparked a wave of armed rebellion and strikes that paralyzed the country. Under the pressure of these disturbances, Egypt was declared an independent monarchy in 1922. Egypt’s new constitution enshrined liberal nationalist ideas. The Wafd party that Zaghlul founded included Copts as well as Muslims in its leadership. The country had entered a liberal constitutional era that lasted until the revolution of 1952.
These secularizing events in Egypt coincided with the final destruction at the end of World War I of the overarching Islamic political framework in the Middle East. Events in the Turkish successor state strengthened the hands of secularists in Egypt and throughout the region. Ataturk thwarted imperialist designs on Turkey and launched a development effort under a republican, nationalist, populist, secular, statist, and revolutionary banner; his reforms included abandoning the Arabic script and, even more significantly, abolishing the caliphate.
From the outset, al-Afghani and `Abduh had argued that successful resistance to the West would entail a substantial dose of imitation. In Egypt the followers of `Abduh who had responded most to his call to imitate the West now had an influential model that pushed them decisively into the arms of the secular nationalists.
These same ambiguities linking resistance and imitation simultaneously fostered a quite different orientation. Muhammad Rashid Rida (1865-1935) `Abduh’s most prominent follower, responded to the pressures of westernization in a strikingly different manner, eventually taking events in Saudi Arabia rather than Turkey for his inspiration. Although Rida initially tried to hold onto both aspects of the master’s legacy, the deterioration of the faith drove him to increasingly defensive and apologetic strategies. Rida drew closer to the conservative Hanball school of Islamic law and came to believe that the early eighteenth-century Arabian reform movement of Muhammad ibn `Abd al-Wahhab, which had provided the religious underpinning of the Saudi Ara-bian state, represented the most viable Islamic alternative to capitulation to the West.
The Wahhabis called for a return to Ibn Hanbal’s understanding of Islam that required absolute obedience to the Qur’an and the hadith as interpreted by the responsible `ulama’ of each generation and the rejection of illegitimate innovations. In line with this thinking, Rida issued a series of fatwas designed to bring existing laws in line with a revised shari’ah. Rida noted that the Saudi state that had taken shape on this. basis in the early nineteenth century had never succumbed to the colonial .onslaught. Like both Afghani and `Abduh, Rida, though a reformer, spoke as one of the `ulama’ While working to contain influences that threatened to undermine the distinctive character of the Muslim community, Rida embraced modernist conceptions of instrumental reason and efficiency; above all, he stressed creating new forms of institutional life to reassert Islam’s social role under modern conditions. [See Wahhabiyah and the biography of Rashid Rida.]
In 1928, Rashid Ridd’s strand of Islamic reform bore its most impressive and lasting fruit when his disciple, the schoolteacher Hasan al-Banna’, founded the Muslim Brotherhood. Like his master, al-Banna’ drew on modern institutional and communications strategies to create a durable organization to advance Islamic modernization. Unlike Rida, however, his project implied the creation of an Islamist elite by claiming to speak not only for Egypt but also for the world beyond.
The radical character of al-Banna’s project reflected the terrible deterioration of Egypt’s material situation. By the late twenties it was clear that Egypt’s economy had been colonized. For more than half a century the country had been little more than an exporter of raw cotton to British mills. Direct occupation made effective resistance more difficult as the British tightened the bonds of economic dependency. Control of the Suez Canal by European shareholders continued to bind Egypt to the Western global economic system. Reacting to the Great Depression, the Egyptian private sector, including the large foreign component, moved the country on the path of Western-inspired import substitution and industrialization. The economic and political dimensions of the nation seemed now to be monopolized by the Western-oriented secular elite.
Undoubtedly al-Banna’s immense charisma helped to validate the Muslim Brothers’ claim to represent a plausible Islamic alternative, but much more was involved than the personality of one man. Al-Banna’s assessment of Egypt’s needs went beyond breaking the bonds of dependency in the political and economic realms: he understood that the most damaging injuries from colonization were internal. Islam’s enemies, he warned, had succeeded in entering the social body, attacking and undermining the Islamic community from within and wounding Muslims in mind and soul. The westernized Egyptians who made up the colonial political class became his prime targets.
Hasan al-Banna’ cast the Muslim Brothers as the heir of the unified project of resistance-political, economic, and cultural-that had characterized the nineteenth century. It was the brotherhood alone that grasped the possibility for a culturally located mode of resistance. In the face of daunting “internal colonization” the brothers struggled to develop an authentic social ethos consistent with Islam yet compatible with the modern world. They acted on that ethic of “social Islam” in concrete activities and services that reached a large body of Muslims, especially in the urban areas. At the same time, the brothers moved decisively to assume the political responsibilities of resistance, earning enduring appreciation for their role in directly combating British occupation forces in the Canal Zone and the Zionists in Palestine. These militant actions helped solidify the reputation of the brothers abroad and fostered the transnational links to the larger Islamic body that later generated branches of the brotherhood in other parts of the Arab world, most importantly in Syria and Jordan. In Egypt of the 1940s, membership in the Muslim Brothers numbered approximately one million. [See Muslim Brotherhood, article on Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt; and the biography of Banna‘.]
The elaboration of a viable social Islam in Egypt proved to be the Muslim Brothers’ most impressive legacy for Egyptian public life. However, from the outset a strand of radicalism, a “political Islam” prone to erupt in violence, threatened to overshadow this achievement. Initially directed at the British and Zionist colonizing agents, the militants gradually turned their weapons against the regime. The central figure in this development was Sayyid Qutb. The emergence of the new mainstream social Islam created by the Muslim Brothers and Qutb’s radical evolution out of it can only be understood against the backdrop of the relationship between the Free Officers regime and the brotherhood.
Key members of the the young army officers who spearheaded the 1952 Free Officers’ coup that became a revolution from above were drawn to the brothers. They knew Hasan al-Banna’ personally and shared many of his ideas. When Gamal Abdel Nasser and the young colonels around him first moved to curtail political parties, the brotherhood was exempted. In the critical early days the Muslim Brotherhood supported the military as they moved against the old secular elite. Later, echoing the fate of the traditional `ulama’ at the hands of Muhammad ‘Ali, Nasser turned against the brothers as he moved to concentrate his own power. The conflict emerged essentially from these power considerations rather than from questions of ideology.
The task of subduing the brothers did not prove easy. On two separate occasions, roughly a decade apart, the regime launched murderous attacks on the brothers. An alleged assassination attempt occurred in 1954 at a time when Nasser was manufacturing incidents to create a climate of general disorder. The regime moved to crush the one remaining organization capable of challenging state power. The brotherhood survived underground, but a decade later it once again became the target of massive repression as the regime moved to consolidate its leftist support. Once again, the brothers were brutally crushed and dispersed.
Within their prison cells and in exile, the Muslim Brothers developed a compelling critique of the Nasserist experience. Egypt in the 1950s and 1960s had drifted from Islam as its mediating device. At the heart of the military regime, they saw a void. The brothers charged that for all the surface movement on economic, political, and foreign-policy issues, the Free Officers had no clear sense of where Egypt was going. The military rulers, the brothers charged, were chasing other people’s modernity at the price of their own spiritual and cultural integrity.
Sayyid Qutb developed his own version of such thinking in the context of terrible personal suffering. Qutb began his intellectual and moral odyssey from a proWestern position. As a young man, he found the West and and its modernist project attractive, but a trip to the United States reversed that outlook. Disgusted by the anti-Arab prejudice he encountered and shocked by what he perceived to be the moral turpitude of American cities, Qutb joined the brotherhood on his return to Egypt.
The brutality of the regime confirmed Qutb’s antiWestern experience and provided the impetus for the elaboration of a new militancy. In outline, Qutb argued that while there were millions of Muslims in Egypt, the system under which they were forced to live was fundamentally un-Islamic. In Signposts on the Way, his most important theoretical statement, Qutb condemned the Egyptian regime as un-Islamic. Perhaps most significantly, he urged the formation of a vanguard of true believers who would mount militant and armed resistance that alone had a chance to succeed. The regime recognized the direct and dangerous challenge that Qutb’s thought represented: he was executed, and the broad Islamist movement was smashed once again. But by the mid-1960s the regime’s effort at modernization had crested. A financial crisis coupled with the devastating defeat by Israel in the 1967 war effectively ended the Nasserist experiment. From these momentous events, many read the message that neither the liberal nor the socialist face of the Western project had much to offer Egyptians. The way had opened for those, whether moderate or radical, who claimed to speak for Islam. [See Nasserism and the biographies of Nasser and Qutb.]
The death of the defeated Nasser and the succession of Anwar el-Sadat in 1971 paved the way for yet another return of the Muslim Brothers. As Sadat moved his regime to the right on all levels, he turned to the Islamist current to contain the old Nasserists and other elements of the left. Less than five years after Sayyid Qutb’s martyrdom, the Muslim Brothers reemerged to play their most important role in Egyptian public life since the 1940s. There were important differences, of course. No single leader emerged with the stature of Hasan alBanna’. Equally important, although not initially noticed, the moderate mainstream that returned to civil life was haunted by the shadow of the militants, hardened in concentration camps and inspired by their selective reading of Sayyid Qutb. The mainstream brothers found themselves caught in a new way between the regime and the violent militants who had emerged from the abused Islamist body.
In this difficult context, the brotherhood assumed something of the role that traditional `ulama’ had once played in speaking for the nation and serving as a reservoir from which a variety of competing strategies emerged. In this sense, the brothers gave rise to both the most moderate and the most militant voices for Islam in the 1980s and 1990s.
The mainstream, under the stable but uninspired leadership of `Umar al-Tilimsani (Omar al-Telmesany), compromised with the Sadat regime and that of Hosni Mubarak. Adopting the conscious strategy of working within the existing order, the brothers took advantage of every opportunity to play as large a role as possible in the emerging civil society. With official Islam diminished by Nasserist authoritarianism and the Sufi orders brought into the same network of control, the brothers constituted a quasi-independent Islamist mainstream that inspired a whole network of Islamist institutions and new forms of Islamist political and social action. Social Islam took on concrete forms.
For a time the compromise with the Sadat regime worked. The brothers threw themselves with genuine commitment into the officially orchestrated de-Nasserization campaign with attacks on socialism and authoritarianism. But when the full implications of Sadat’s reorientation became clear in the mid-1970s, especially in the form of the separate peace with Israel in 1979, the tacit alliance came undone. As even the mainstream Brothers saw it, Sadat’s break with Arab and Islamic ranks sacrificed Jerusalem and the Palestinians for narrowly conceived Egyptian interests. The United States failed to hold Israel to the Camp David commitment to do something for the Palestinians, and the social gap in Egypt widened under liberalization policies. The Sadat regime’s promise of peace and prosperity collapsed, leaving the president isolated and vulnerable. In October 1981 Islamist militants assassinated Sadat as he reviewed a military parade.
Vice President Hosni Mubarak, who was also on the reviewing stand, survived and assumed the presidency in a smooth constitutional transition. Mubarak began with a firm commitment to continue the policies of the Sadat era, including reconciliation with the moderate Muslim Brothers. In some ways Mubarak initially deepened the democratization process that Sadat had tentatively begun. He certainly continued to strengthen the presence of official Islam in public life.
By the end of the first decade of Mubarak’s rule the Islamic current in Egypt had assumed an impressive array of forms. Alliances with legitimate political parties gave prominent Islamists seats in parliament, a leading role in the major professional syndicates, and many publishing houses. At the same time, the mosques steadily expanded their functions to include not only religious activities but also medical clinics and social service facilities that offered high-quality services at low prices, attracting middle-class as well as lower middleclass families. But despite these impressive advances of Social Islam, the Islamist radicals cast a threatening shadow.
Militant political Islam, fragmented into small and often violent groups, continued to absorb the regime’s energies in increasingly deadly duels. While the broad Islamic current draws support from all social classes, the militants appear to have originated predominantly from the lower middle-class provincials, with their leaders coming from the rural elite. Their roots appear especially strong in those parts of Upper Egypt, such as Minya and Asyut, with large Christian populations. The militants splintered over their assessment of the appropriate target of their violent anger-the regime or society as a whole. They disagreed on strategy, with some militant groups such as the Takfir wa al-Hijrah urging withdrawal from society to preserve their purity as the vanguard of a genuine Islamic order, and others such as al-Jihad favoring shock attacks and assassinations designed to undermine the Mubarak government and produce the social chaos that would create the opening for a militant takeover. [See Takfir wa al-Hijrah, Jama’at al-.]
In some ways, the regime’s most impressive weapon against the violent Islamist radicals was the moderate brothers. On one hand, the brothers were given increasingly widened scope for their own activities; on the other, they were encouraged by the regime to cooperate in containing more militant elements that might challenge their own leadership. Uninspired leadership prevented moderate brothers from fully exploiting this new opening. In retrospect, the most disappointing aspect of al-Banna’s legacy was the leadership void he left behind. During his lifetime al-Banna’ surrounded himself not with the most talented but with the most loyal, compensating for their limitations with his own impressive abilities. Official repression directed quite consciously against the top leadership cadres worsened the situation.
Not surprisingly, some of the most creative and original minds in the Egyptian Islamist current found the institutional confines of the brotherhood too limiting. As the twentieth century drew to a close, some of the most impressive figures moved out of the brotherhood to play a role as independent Islamist figures, although frequently maintaining loose ties to the brotherhood and always acknowledging the historic role of Hasan alBanna’ and social Islam. Most impressive was the loosely linked group who called themselves the New Islamic Current and brought together such figures as Yusuf al-Qaradawi, Shaykh Muhammad al-Ghazali,, Kamal Abu al-Majd, and Fahmi Huwaydi. At the outset of the Mubarak era, Kamal Abu al-Majd, on behalf of the group, produced a manifesto that expressed their moderate views, emphasizing commitments to democracy and pluralism. Despite its moderate thrust, the regime blocked the initiative, and the manifesto was not published for a decade. [See the biography of Ghazah. ]
In the first decade of Mubarak’s rule, however, the New Islamists preserved their presence in Egyptian civil society and attempted to offer enlightened leadership to the rapidly growing Islamist body. They were joined by other prominent independent intellectuals such as the distinguished jurist Tariq al-Bishri and the diplomat Hussein Amin, who participated actively in rethinking Islam’s role in public life. Amin in particular took a sharply rationalist and realist position that went well beyond `Abduh. He insisted on fully acknowledging the historical forces that had shaped the religious inheritance and on the necessity, in interpreting Islam today, of taking account of new conditions.
During the Gulf War the New Islamists stepped into the public arena with two statements addressed to the nation, condemning the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait yet calling for an Arab and Islamic diplomatic solution, in opposition to regime support for the American-led military resolution. At moments of grave social tension precipitated by communal strife, key figures from their circle urged religious tolerance and acceptance of Egypt’s Christians as full members of the political and social community. With ever greater urgency they addressed their conciliatory message to Egypt’s disillusioned young, who, in the deteriorating conditions of the 1990s, appeared to be responding instead to the shriller voices of the most unsubtle heirs of Sayyid Qutb.
In tracing the history of the relationship between Islam, the Egyptian state, and civil society, it becomes clear that Islam has played a vital yet constantly shifting role in the development of Egyptian public life, particularly with respect to the ongoing need to define a common life for Egyptians. Within this history, prominent Islamist intellectuals and groups have formed and articulated unique and diverse responses to modernism and the influence of the West. This is best evidenced by their creative attempts to mediate modernism so as to appropriate and extend its influence in Egypt under Islamic terms.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Dessouki, Ali E. Hillal, ed. Islamic Resurgence in the Arab World. New York, 1982. Though of uneven quality, the essays usefully place developments in Egypt in the broader Arab context.
Esposito, John L. The Islamic Threat: Myth or Reality? New York and Oxford, 1992. Written for a general audience, this authoritative survey of the current scene effectively counters media and scholarly distortions of Islam’s role in public life.
Gilsenan, Michael. Recognizing Islam: Religion and Society in the Modern Arab World. New York, 1983. Sensitive and probing anthropological study of popular Islam in its full diversity and complexity. Hourani, Albert. A History of the Arab Peoples. Cambridge, Mass., 1991. Brilliant and indispensable history of the Arabs and Islam, with important sections on Egypt, that crowned a lifetime of humanistic scholarship.
Kepel, Gilles. Muslim Extremism in Egypt: The Prophet and Pharaoh. Berkeley, 1986. Helpful though one-sided guide to Egypt’s radical militants.
Mitchell, Richard P. The Society of Muslim Brothers. New York, 1969. Still the most insightful and fairest account of the Brothers’ historic role in Egypt and beyond.
Oweiss, Ibrahim M., ed. The Political Economy of Contemporary Egypt. Washington, D.C., 1990. Helpful collection sketching the sociopolitical conditions of Egyptian Islamist movements. See in particular the essays by `Afaf Lutfi al-Sayyid Marsot and Moustafa K. El-Sayed.
Sharabi, Hisham. Neopatriarchy: A Theory of Distorted Change in Arab Society. New York, 1988. Theoretically eclectic, this influential essay forcefully summarizes and restates negative assessments of the prospects of Islamist political movements in Egypt and elsewhere in the Arab world.
RAYMOND BAKER

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EDUCATION https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/06/education/ https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/06/education/#respond Tue, 06 Nov 2012 15:02:03 +0000 https://hybridlearning.pk/2012/11/06/education/ EDUCATION. [To explore the dimensions of education in the modern Islamic world, this entry comprises five articles: Religious Education Educational Institutions Educational Methods Educational Reform, […]

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EDUCATION. [To explore the dimensions of education in the modern Islamic world, this entry comprises five articles:

  1. Religious Education
  2. Educational Institutions
  3. Educational Methods
  4. Educational Reform,
  5. The Islamization of Knowledge

The introductory article provides an overview of the role and function of religious education in Muslim community life: the four complementary articles provide details on educational practices, theories, and goals in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.]
Religious Education
Internal political and social movements of the eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth centuries within the Muslim world neglected Islamic education and allowed external secular and missionary ideas to turn it into religious education. Variations in worldviews and interpretations of Qur’dnic principles of education resulted in an emphasis on form over essence in the education of Muslims.
Historical accounts of Islamic/Muslim education provide a variety of perspectives on its nature and the function of its traditional institutions. Cultural and political restraints ended Islamic education as a functional system aimed at understanding and appropriating Qur’dnic pedagogical principles and limited it to “religious” knowledge confined to selected men. Islamic education has recently been confused with a subject matter, “religion,” or with a moral, social code, akhlaq. The primacy of formalized and juridical education over the informal development of Islamic character resulted in curricular and instructional differentiation between class and gender, a separation of “Islamic” and “non-Islamic” knowledge, and a dichotomy between ideal and practice in Muslim education.
Islamic Education and Religious Education. Islamic education, referred to in the Qur’dn (3.11o) as the process of shaping character within the Islamic worldview, requires the Muslim family to expose its children and adults to all knowledge as a means of understanding the parameters set in the Qur’dn for a constructive relationship with God, other human beings, and nature. Based on the Qur’dnic dictum, “Read in the name of the Creator . . . who taught (man) by the pen” (96.1-4),  which means that to read is to learn and to act as guided by the Book, Islamic education evolved from this kind of comprehensive training in the first Islamic community in Medina (c.623) to a course of study on religion or its inculcation in social mores. What is called “religious education” or “Muslim education” does not reflect the historical process of education in Islam. This process, in the estimate of Waqar Husaini (1981), began to disintegrate at the end of the eleventh century, when science, the humanities, and social sciences were excluded from the curricula. Fazlur Rahman (1982) suggests that it remained functional into the fifteenth century, whereas Dale Eickelman (1985) asserts that it socialized Muslims well into the latter half of the twentieth century.
Religious education differs from Islamic education even though it maintains remnants of the Islamic educational institutions. By separating “revealed” and “human” knowledge, it transformed Qur’dnic principles into formalized legal and moral codes and rituals, creating a dichotomy in Islamic thinking. It also transformed the meaning of the Prophetic dictum “Faqqihhu fi al din” (Sahih Muslim) from teaching within the Islamic worldview to teaching Islam as interpreted by the different fiqh (jurisprudence) schools.
The salient features of Islamic education, such as tahfiz (oral and aural transmission), are often confused with talqin (the acquisition and dissemination of Qur’dnic principles and spirit). Talqin, as Seyyed Hossein Nasr (1982) asserts, led the field of Islamic education to produce “philosopher-scientists” in various intellectual disciplines. Islamic education’s intimate relation to the Qur’dnic revelation and hadith (prophetic tradition) does not make it purely religious, nor does it render its other elements exclusively Islamic or absolute. Earlier Muslim intellectuals transformed the form, content, and intent of sciences, education, and arts into Islamic disciplines by integrating intellectual and cultural development within the Islamic worldview. Most contemporary Muslim educators assume Islamic education to be religious indoctrination.
The traditional recitation method of teaching the Qur’dn comes to mind when one thinks about Islamic education, but neither was ever restricted to this method, and Islamic education is not limited to the study of the Qur’dn. The Qur’an as the foundation of all knowledge guides behavior.
Islamic education has been decentralized, and its practice has varied. It was reduced to religious education in different regions at different times. This transformation occurred when Islamic philosophy and pedagogy were separated and when strict public moral codes were imposed on women, rendering their public appearance taboo. Concurrently, generations of male religious leaders or jurists emphasized the Qur’an as either an absolute moral code or a legal law, instead of viewing it as a universal guide for the whole of the community. The principles of Islamic philosophy were idealized, and knowledge was classified by sources and by methods that enhanced the discrepancy between goals and means and the dichotomies between teaching men and women and what is moral (religious/private/informal) and what is rational (juridical/public/formal).
Separation of Philosophy and Pedagogy. Nasr criticizes Muhammad Iqbal (1877-1938) and other “modernist” Islamists for understanding “Greek philosophy through the eyes of its modern Western interpreters” and, hence, separating Islam from philosophy. Fazlur Rahman (“Islam: An Overview,” section on “Modernism,” in the Encyclopedia of Religion, edited by Mircea Eliade, New York, 1987, vol. 7, pp. 318-322) describes Iqbal’s accusing “the West of cheating humanity of its basic values with the glittering mirage of its technology” and his strong critique of world Muslim society. For Rahman, lqbal was a “neo-fundamentalist” who was reacting to modernism but also “importantly influenced by modernism.” Iqbal’s (1962) own assertion that the Qur’an is a book that emphasizes “deed” rather than “idea” is significant to the understanding of the Islamic educational process and its transformation.
To educate in Islam, Iqbal states, means to create a living experience on which religious faith ultimately rests. For Rahman (1982), it means Islamic intellectualism. Though Nasr believes that the Islamic theory of education can be reconstructed within the Qur’anic philosophy, Iqbal emphasizes that the birth of Islam is the birth of inductive intellect, wherein “to achieve full self consciousness, Man must finally be thrown back on his own resources.”
These diverse views suggest that Muslims, particularly in the past two centuries, not only neglected philosophy, as Nasr suggests, but, as Isma’il R. al-Faruqi (1981) points out, also lost Islam’s connection to its pedagogical function and its methods of observation and experimentation. As centers of higher religious learning began formal transmission of “book knowledge” and inculcation in particular interpretations, a dichotomy arose between philosophy, or the ideal, and pedagogy, or the practice. Encouraged by skepticism in modern Western philosophy, this dichotomy widened.
Western-educated Muslim modernists in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, not aware that the underlying philosophy of Western education differed from that of Islam, were satisfied with teaching courses on religion in the traditional style and neglected to restructure the traditional system. Meanwhile, “traditionalists” emphasized the primacy of Islamic doctrine over falsafah (philosophy), creating, in Husaini’s words, a schism between them and the modernists and destroying the integrated educational system. Western-educated thinkers who reaffirm the validity of traditional practices (I call them “neo-traditionalists”) interpret the philosophy of Abu Hamid al-Ghazali (1058-1111) as the “finally established” Islamic educational theory (Ashraf, 1985) and hold an absolutist perspective of Islamic education. This perspective, discussed elsewhere by this author (1990 and 1991), results, unknowingly, in a dichotomy between the Islamic worldview and its pedagogical process.
Institutions of Islamic Education. Diverse perspectives of Islamic/Muslim education also result in diverse and at times contradictory accounts of its transformation. The kuttab (for primary and Qur’anic education) and the madrasah (for secondary and higher learning) are the most frequent contexts in which Islamic education is discussed. Other places, such as the halaqah (study circle in a mosque), dar al-kutub (library/bookshop), and private homes play important roles but are rarely recognized, as Munir D. Ahmad (“Muslim Education Prior to the Establishment of Madrasah,” Islamic Studies [Islamabad] 26.4 [1987]: 321-348) and Salah Hussein Al-Abidi (“The Mosque: Adult Education and Uninterrupted Learning,” Al-Islam al -yawm [Islam Today, Rabat], 7.7 [1989]: 68-77) indicate, particularly in rural areas that constitute more than 70 percent of the Muslim world and where they might be the only educational institution.
No systematic study of the evolution of the educational process in these situations has been done. There are scattered reports in biographies, books of history and Islamic thought, and encyclopedias, but they typically leave a gap between Ibn Khaldun’s (1332-1406) Muqaddimah and the nineteenth-century sources in which Western perspectives dominate. Recent accounts of Islamic education are almost always presented in the contexts of modernization or Muslim revival movements that, Nasr (1987) asserts, Western scholarship overemphasizes even though they did weaken traditional Islam. Fazlur Rahman (1987) was more concerned that these “reformers” integrated science and technology with the “Qur’anic requirement that man studies the universe” than he was with the transformation from Islamic education into religious education.
Teaching reading and writing in kuttab, according to Ahmad Shalaby (1979), preceded the rise of Islam, but existed on a limited scale. In distinguishing this type from Qur’anic kuttab, Shalaby notes that several authors have confused the different varieties of this institution and cites Philip Hitti (The Arabs: A Short History, Chicago, 1956), Ahmad Amin (Dhuha al-Islam, Cairo, 1941), and Ignacz Goldziher. He states that Goldziher (“Education [Muslim]” in the Encyclopedia of Religion and Ethics, 1960, vol. 5, pp. 199-207), in his attempt to trace Qur’anic kuttab back to the early time of Islam, did not distinguish the varieties of kuttab. That Shalaby’s account differs from Goldziher’s on other matters related to teaching young Muslims suggests differences not only in their perspectives of Islamic education and its institutions but of the problems it has encountered. Though Goldziher relies largely on the same primary sources used by Shalaby, when he says that “modern movements towards reform” (p. 2o6) were unaffected by Western influence, he does not seem to distinguish between the Islam taught in kuttabs and madrasahs and that taught by informal socialization. Thus, he states, “the instruction of the young proceeded mainly on the lines laid down in the older theological writings,” suggesting that the problem lies in Muslims’ inability to adopt modern technologies. This assessment prevents him from realizing why “religious” content constituted the central curriculum, and in some localities was the only function left for the kuttab when government schools, the Ottomans’ Rushdiyah schools, took over the teaching of reading, writing, and other subjects, or why natives resisted modernity (Ahmad, 1988) and gave up even Qur’anic schools in response to colonial policies (G. W. Leitner, “Indigenous Oriental Education, with Special Reference to India, and, in Particular, to the Panjab,” Asiatic Quarterly Review, 2d ser., 8, nos. 15 and 16 [1894]: 421-438) and to exploitation of Islam by both colonial and local governments (Harrison, 1990). Similarly, when Rahman (1982) reports on educational reform in the nineteenth century, he confuses the varieties of kuttabs and their relationship to the madrasah, stating that in general, primary education given in the maktabs or kuttabs was a self-contained unit that did not feed into the higher educational system. Rahman thus contradicts reports by Mohammad Akhlaq Ahmad (1985) and others that kuttabs and mosques played an important role for those continuing their Islamic higher education.
Contradictory accounts also surround the madrasah. Shalaby gives a detailed account of the first madrasah, established in the eleventh century by Nizam al-Mulk in Baghdad, and classifies these schools by location, founders and their positions, and the primary sources that cite them. A. L. Tibawi (“Origin and Character of al-Madrasah,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, 25.2 [1962]: 225-238) concurs with primary Muslim sources such as Ibn Khaldun in concluding that the main characteristics of these schools varied by region and time, but all were formal residential places of secondary and higher learning, with Arabic as the basic medium of instruction. They relied mainly on dialogue between teacher and disciples. Their curricula covered, in addition to Qur’anic talqin and Arabic grammar, tafsir (exegesis), fiqh (jurisprudence), hadith, usul al -fiqh (principles of jurisprudence), usul al-hadith (principles of narration), and the biography of the Prophet and al-Sahabah (the Prophet’s companions). Classical sciences (astronomy, geography, and medicine) and Arabic adab (literature) were also taught, the intensity and depth of instruction depending on the students’ mastery of particular subjects and the teachers’ strengths. M. A. Ahmad (1985) and other Muslim authors suggest that a similar though less vital educational process still exists in such places of learning. Goldziher, however, does not recognize that what he describes as a “primitive and patriarchal form of instruction still hold[ing] its place” in these institutions is a result of the takeover by technical and military high schools, which left only Islamic subjects to traditionally trained teachers.
In response to colonial policies, these institutions evolved in one of two ways: into traditional, privately sponsored religious schools with some Western orientation or into government-sponsored secular schools with added religion courses. The “traditional” form is represented in the remnants of kuttab and madrasah. Famous among them are Deoband in India, al-Nizamiyah in Iran, al-Mustansiriyah in Baghdad, al-Sulayman-iyah in Istanbul, al-Nuriyah in Damascus, al-Azhar in Cairo, al-Qayrawan in Tunis, al-Qarawiyin in Fez, and Cordoba in Spain. Some of these institutions, such as al-Azhar and Deoband, still grant “Islamic” higher degrees but are weakened by their consideration of religious knowledge as separate from other knowledge.
When modernist elites of the early twentieth century sought reform from outside their society, they created private religious schools (for example, Yadigar-i Hurriyet established in 1908 in Basra, Iraq). Their indiscriminate adoption of Western systems, combined with nationalistic and politicized Islam, emphasized a secular morality in teaching natural and social sciences, which gradually separated Islam from its Qur’anic base, and favored secondary literary and historical sources of religion.
When the mid-twentieth-century “revivalists” assumed the preservation of Islamic principles by teaching `ibadat (rituals) and moral codes, courses on religion (al-daynah) were added, taking a secondary place in the curriculum in the secular government-sponsored system. At present, overall teaching time in these courses ranges from 32 percent in Saudi elementary schools to 3 percent in Syrian high schools, and their content varies from a watered-down version of tafsir, fiqh, hadith, and Islamic history to hifz (memorization of Qur’an) and rituals. Further, very few secular universities in the Muslim world offer any such courses on Islam outside the college of Islamic law (Kulliyat al-Shari`ah).
Education of Women. The imposition of strict public moral codes on women is another indicator of the transformation of Islamic education into religious education; women were forbidden to attend places of learning such as madrasahs and mosques, even though women formally and informally transmitted the culture to their offspring as well as to other children and to men and women inside and outside the home in early and medieval Muslim communities (Goldziher). Muslim boys and girls were taught at home and attended formal kuttab; according to Nasr (1987), girls even studied in madrasahs when they were first established. No historical accounts mention women as `ulama’ (Islamic scholars), knowledgeable in branches of Qur’anic sciences such as tafsir, kalam (Islamic philosophy/theology), and fiqh, particularly after the formalized higher learning in madrasah, although Shalaby notes that many women had established or endowed such institutions. Also, many primary Muslim sources (such as al-Suyuti [d. 1505] and others listed by Goldziher, Nasr, and Shalaby) report that up to the fifteenth century there were outstanding women who memorized and narrated hadith to earn them the title of muhaddithat (female narrators) among their disciples, and some who were well known in Sufi orders.
The assaults on Islamic culture by European Crusaders, Orientalists, and colonial governments, combined with their differentiation between private and public domains, caused Muslim leaders to lose sight of the essence of Islamic education, particularly its informal sector, and take extreme attitudes at the expense of a revival of traditional Islam. These predominantly male leaders, beginning with those of the eighteenth-century Wahhabi puritan movement, propagated the view that as women’s primary concern is the home they need a different type of education. “Reformists” such as Muhammad `Abduh (1845-1905) emphasized Islamic ideals of women’s higher status in Islam and the obligation of both men and women to seek knowledge; yet, in practice, they did not recognize women’s right to access to a thorough knowledge of the Qur’an as a key to intellectual development.
Revivalists, such as Sayyid Qutb (1906-1966) and Sayyid Abu al-A’la Mawdudi (1903-1979), though attempting to restore Islamic education in post-World War II nation-states, used the traditional rationale about women’s education and asserted that their “natural” disposition is to transmit culture to the next generation (both boys and girls); but they did not restructure the traditional practices of teaching Islam to allow for this transmission. The primary objectives of women’s education in Muhammad Qutb’s (1961, 1981) curriculum were to prepare them for the biological and emotional aspects of their roles as mothers and housewives. Such objectives further confused and marginalized women’s education in Islam.
The post-1969 “islamization” movements leaned toward a politicized Islam and had implications for women’s Islamic/religious education. Contrary to their intellectual tradition that culminated in Isma al-Faruqi’s (1921-1986) Islamization of Knowledge (1982), proponents of these movements emphasized morality, which overshadowed their presumed goal: to restructure the secular system of higher learning in order to address the religious and cultural needs of Muslim societies as part of the new development strategies. The Indonesian and Malay development policies of involving all segments of the population in education and training, reported by Sharom Ahmat and Sharon Siddique (1987), seem to be a first step toward recognizing women’s role in social development. Emphasis on morality, however, particularly when women became part of the Malay madrasahs (an outgrowth of the podock religious training with worldly affairs in sight) of the 1 960s and the dakwa (Ar., da’wah, call for Islamic orientation) of the 1970s and 1980s, led religious education to take the form of moral dogma. The Indonesian pesantren system, which was established in rural areas in the early nineteenth century and spread to urban development in the 1970s and 1980s, maintained an integrated system, and Indonesian women, unlike those in any other Muslim country, occupy a full range of religious leadership roles. [See Madrasah; Pesantren.]
Neo traditionalists, like Anis Ahmad (1984), attempted to “liberate Islam from Western cultural colonialism” in the 1980s and gave women’s education the form I call “reversed feminism,” emphasizing segregated education for different but unequal roles. This trend is flourishing in North American and western European countries, where Muslim males are demanding single-sex schools and, in their private “Islamic/Muslim” schools, are segregating children in the first grade. Curricula in these schools are the same as in public schools except for courses on religion and Arabic language.
Dichotomy of Ideals and Practice. The Organization of the Islamic Conference (OIC), established in 1973, held five world conferences on Muslim education in Mecca (1977), Islamabad (1980), Dhaka (1981), Jakarta (1982), and Cairo (1987). Their recommendations were to “re-classify knowledge into `revealed’ [given to man by God and contained mainly in the Qur’an and the tradition of the Prophet] and `acquired’ [by man’s efforts]” and to teach that “acquired” knowledge from the “Islamic point of view,” the process of which is referred to as “Islamization of knowledge” (Ashraf, 1985). The goals, similar to those outlined by al-Faruqi (1982), to integrate modern sciences and branches of knowledge within the Islamic philosophy, are stated in the Islamic Education Series’ seven monographs of which Ashraf is general editor.
A core curriculum (Muhammad Hamid al-Afendi and Nabi Ahmed Baloch, 1980) with a work edited by Syed Muhammad al-Naquib al-Attas (Aims and Objectives of Islamic Education, Jeddah, 1979) and other “blueprints” for groundwork and strategies were published in this series, the basic premise of which is that reinterpretation of “all branches of knowledge, particularly social sciences, within the Islamic perspective” is the only way to develop an Islamic curriculum that will alleviate the crisis in Muslim education caused by the dual traditional and secular systems. Yet, because the emphasis was on “revealed” rather than “acquired” knowledge, no action plan was devised either to reconstruct a fresh base for Islamic thought and educational practice in the light of new discoveries and contemporary needs or to alleviate the dichotomy in Muslim thinking that resulted from separating religious and secular knowledge. Nor, despite its urgency in light of new economic developments and the women’s emancipation movement, was an action plan chartered for women’s education. Instead, the emphasis on different and segregated education resulted only in prescriptive statements, reiterating a perspective on girls’ education that has been evolving since the introduction of Western secular education practices. Indeed, although one of the fourteen committees of the World Conferences on Islamic Education was charged with the “teaching of women,” no female educator was involved, and the topic was discussed in less than five pages of the seven volumes.
This perspective on women’s education in Islam is almost uniform in the countries that adopted segregated education after encountering the European and American systems. In the Indian subcontinent, for example, most girls attending Qur’anic kuttab not only are denied the opportunity to continue their religious education once they reach puberty but rarely are instructed by their families, as was the practice among learned Muslim families before the British colonization. A similar practice is found in other Muslim countries that interacted with Western educational practices; the emphasis is placed on girls gaining religious knowledge and character in sexually segregated schools (El-Sanabary, 1973); no women teachers are allowed education in religion. Despite their enrollment in kuttabs in earlier times, Saudi girls, for example, were not allowed to enroll in religious institutions of higher learning such as Umm al-Qura in Mecca until 1970-1971, when, according to Mohammed Saad al-Salem (“The Interplay of Tradition and Modernity: A Field Study of Saudi Policy and Educational Development,” Ph.D. diss., University of California, Santa Barbara, 1981), only 8o women as compared to 2,210 men were admitted. Thus, girls and young women receive their religious knowledge primarily by observing their elders’ practice of local, regional, tribal, or ethnic customary interpretations of Islam; those who attend public and private schools receive secular knowledge from trained, organized teachers with structured curricula.
In summary, Muslim male educators continue to overlook the dynamics of the role of women as the transmitters, preservers, and transformers of the culture in Muslim societies in the 1980s and 1990s. These educators keep women’s religious education peripheral, relegating it to the home. This attitude is only one of many other disparities that have transformed Islamic education, resulting in fragmented educational planning and a lack of balance between religious and secular objectives. This imbalance is primarily the remnant of the colonial and missionary legacies that left the Muslim world in a turmoil even after independence.
[See also Women and Islam; Women and Social Reform; and the biographies of Faruqi, Iqbal, Nasr, and Rahman. ]
BIBLIOGRAPHY
General Works
Ahmed, Akbar S. Discovering Islam: Making Sense of Muslim History and Society. London and New York, 1988. Unique history of Muslim societies’ response to world events, by a native Muslim. Chapter 7 gives special treatment to the impact of colonialism on the Muslim rejection of modernity. Chapter io, on the reconstruction of Muslim thought, is illuminating. The appendix, “Muslim Chronology” (up to 1986), is particularly helpful.
Ashraf, Syed Ali. New Horizons in Muslim Education. Cambridge, 1985. Representative of neotraditionalist views on Muslim education. The appendices summarize the recommendations of the four World Conferences on Islamic Education. See also the Islamic Education Series, some volumes of which are cited below.
Eickelman, Dale F. Knowledge and Power in Morocco: The Education of a Twentieth-Century Notable. Princeton, 1985. Unprecedented anthropological analysis of the power of knowledge in a Muslim society. Faruqi, Isma’il R. al-. Islamization of Knowledge: General Principles and Workplan. Washington, D.C., 1982. Essential introduction to the understanding of contemporary trends in Islamic education and thought by an American Muslim scholar.
Iqbal, Muhammad. The Reconstruction of Religious Thought in Islam (1934). Reprint, Lahore, 1962. Landmark by the Pakistani poet and scholar, giving his views on reforming Islamic education through the reconstruction of Islamic thought.
Nasr, Seyyed Hossein. Traditional Islam in the Modern World. London and New York, 1987. Leading work in deciphering traditional Islam and its contrast to fundamentalism and modernism with respect to Western scholarship.
Qutb, Muhammad al-. Al-tarbiyah al-Islamiyah, vol. 2, Fi al-tatbiq (Curriculum of Islamic Education, vol. 2, Application). Reprint, Beirut, 1981. Good representation of revivalists’ view of Islamic education, particularly the Muslim Brothers.
Rahman, Fazlur. Islam and Modernity: Transformation of an Intellectual
Tradition. Chicago and London, 1982. Definitive work for understanding contemporary Islamic intellectualism as the essence of Islamic higher education, and the implications of the method of Qur’anic interpretation for the development of the intellectual Muslim.
Shalaby, Ahmad. History of Muslim Education. Karachi, 1979. Deals with the subject from the beginning of Islam through the fall of the Ayyubid dynasty in Egypt (1250), covering important issues in the evolution of Muslim education. The bibliography is rich with primary sources in Arabic and English.
Regional Accounts
Ahmad, Mohammad Akhlaq. Traditional Education among Muslims (A Study of Some Aspects of Modern India). Delhi, 1985.
Ahmat, Sharom, and Sharon Siddique, eds. Muslim Society: Higher Education and Development in Southeast Asia. Singapore, 1987. Collection of essays surveying historical and contemporary educational issues in the Muslim societies of Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, Singapore, and Thailand.
Barazangi, Nimat Hafez. “The Education of North American Muslim Parents and Children: Conceptual Changes as a Contribution to Islamization of Education.” American journal of Islamic Social Sciences 7.3 (1990): 385-402.
Barazangi, Nimat Hafez. “Islamic Education in the United States and Canada: Conception and Practice of the Islamic Belief System.” In The Muslims of America, edited by Yvonne Y. Haddad, pp. 157174. New York and Oxford, 1991.
El-Sanabary, Nagat. “A Comparative Study of the Disparities of Educational Opportunities for Girls in the Arab States.” Ph.D. diss., University of California, Berkeley, 1973. Rich in data on girls’ education.
Harrison, Christopher. France and Islam in West Africa, 1860-1960. Reprint, Cambridge, 1990. Chapters 9 and to, “The French Stake in Islam” and “The `Rediscovery of Islam,’ ” are particularly intriguing.
Topical Studies
Afendi, Muhammad Hamid al-, and Nabi Ahmed Baloch, eds. Curriculum and Teacher Education. Islamic Education Series. Jeddah, 1980. Ahmad, Anis. Muslim Women and Higher Education: A Case for Separate Institutions for Women. 2d rev. ed. Islamabad, 1984. Provides insights into the neotraditionalists’ biased views on women’s education.
Faruqi, Isma’il R. al-. “Islamizing the Social Sciences.” In Social and Natural Sciences: The Islamic Perspectives, edited by Isma’il R. alFaruqi and Abdullah Omar Nasseef, pp. 8-20. Islamic Education Series. Jeddah, 1981.
Husaini, Sayyid Waqqar Ahmed. “Humanistic-Social Sciences Studies in Higher Education: Islamic and International Perspectives.” In Social and Natural Sciences: The Islamic Perspectives, edited by Isma’il R. al-Faruqi and Abdullah Omar Nasseef, pp. 148-166. Islamic Education Series. Jeddah, 1981.
Nasr, Seyyed Hossein. “The Teaching of Philosophy.” In Philosophy, Literature, and Fine Arts, edited by Seyyed Hossein Nasr, pp. 321. Islamic Education Series. Jeddah, 1982. Blueprint for the role of philosophy, the arts, and literature in Islamic education.
NIMAT HAFEZ BARAZANGI

Educational Institutions

As the nineteenth century opened, Islamic societies had highly developed educational institutions-elementary Qur’an schools (Ar., kuttab or maktab) and higher religious schools called madrasahs. Less formal education was available from Sufi lodges, literary circles at princely courts, private tutors, and apprenticeships in state bureaus and craftsmen’s shops.
After 1800, Western-style schools were introduced to meet new needs. Reforming Muslim rulers created new armies and schools in hopes of warding off the intrusive West and local rivals. Today’s state school systems in many Muslim countries grew out of such beginnings. Missionaries and local minority communities also founded private Western-style schools. The new schools became rivals of the Qur’an schools and madrasahs, with a cultural divide separating graduates of the two systems. Conscious and unconscious borrowing has led to considerable convergence of the two systems, but an entirely satisfactory synthesis of Islamic and Western educational institutions remains elusive.
This article discusses five phases of the development of educational institutions in the Islamic world since 1800. In phase one, Islamic schools were unaffected by the West. In phase two, reforming Muslim rulers-and, for different reasons, Western missionaries-set up Western-style schools. In phase three, colonial rulers subordinated schools to their own imperial interests. In phase four, newly independent states unified their school systems and rapidly expanded all levels of schooling. In phase five, Islamists campaigned to islamize education, along with the rest of state and society.
The chronology of these phases varied from place to place, and some countries bypassed a phase or two. The Ottomans entered phase two as early as 1773 by opening a naval engineering school; isolated North Yemen and Saudi Arabia had not yet entered it in 1950. The colonial rule of phase three began before 1800 in the Dutch East Indies and India, but reached Syria and Iraq only after World War I. North Yemen, Saudi Arabia, and Afghanistan skipped the colonial phase. Turkey and Iran won the independence of phase four in the 19206 without having been fully colonized, while the emirates of the lower Gulf did not begin phase four until the British left in 1971.
Phase One: Before Western Intrusion. Qur’an schools stressed memorization of the Qur’an, reading, and writing. Often the initial memorization did not mean comprehension, particularly where Arabic was not spoken at home. Teachers taught in homes, mosques, or shops, receiving their pay from pupils’ fees or waqfs (pious endowments). Although conservative `ulama’ might disapprove, girls sometimes attended Qur’an schools, and a few became Qur’an reciters or teachers.
Advanced schooling in mosques went back to the seventh century, but the formal madrasah-an endowed residential college stressing the shari’ah-took shape only in the eleventh century. The Nizamlyah in Baghdad was a renowned prototype. In common usage, distinctions between mosque schools and madrasahs disappeared. Subjects seen as closely related to religion were stressed: Qur’anic exegesis, hadith, jurisprudence, theology, Arabic grammar, and logic. There were no formal admissions or graduation ceremonies, no grade levels, written examinations, grades, classrooms, desks, or school diplomas. Barred from the madrasah, only a few women pursued higher studies with private tutors.
Al-Azhar in Cairo, the Suleymaniye in Istanbul, Qarawiyin in Fez, the Zaytfinah in Tunis, and various mosque-madrasahs in Mecca, Medina, and Damascus stood out in the Sunni world of 1800. For Shi’is, the madrasahs of Najaf (Iraq) were foremost, with others in Isfahan and other Iranian cities.
Phase Two: Western-Style State and Missionary Schools. Defeat in wars with Russia and Napoleon’s invasion of Egypt (1798) helped persuade Muslim rulers to reform their armies and military support services along Western lines. This called for a new type of school, and it was easier to bypass the conservative religious schools than to reform them. Phase two thus began a secularizing trend that prevailed until the Islamist challenge of phase five.
Enlisting Europeans as instructors, the Ottomans opened naval engineering and army engineering academies in 1773 and 1793. In 1826 Sultan Mahmud II destroyed the obsolete Janissary corps, a major obstacle to reform. He and his successors opened a bureau to train translators (1821) and schools of medicine (1827), military science (1834), civil administration (1859), and law (1878).
In 1811, Muhammad (or Mehmed) ‘Ali, the sultan’s ambitious vassal in Cairo, destroyed Egypt’s obsolete Mamluk cavalry. Thereafter he rivaled or led Istanbul in military and educational innovations, following his first Western-influenced military school (1816) with schools of engineering (1820), veterinary science (1827), medicine (1827), civil administration (1829), and translation (1836). The school of administration and languages (1868) became a law school. In Tunisia, Ahmad Bey opened his Bardo military school in 1840.
Three related phenomena (which persist today) accompanied the new schools: importing Western educators, dispatching students to study in the West (small missions first left Egypt in 18o9, Iran in 1811, and Istanbul in 1827), and putting new printing presses to work publishing translated Western textbooks.
Recruits from the Qur’an schools and madrasahs proved ill-prepared for higher professional education, so Cairo and Istanbul next began turning Qur’an schools into state primary schools. Al-Azhar and many other religious schools, however, long eluded serious reform and state control. In the 1860s, ministries of education in Cairo and Istanbul, patterned on the highly centralized French model, laid out blueprints for full state school systems. The Ottomans planned for lower and higher primary, middle, and high schools (lycees), capped by higher schools and a university. The Frenchinspired Galatasary Lycee stood out among eleven Ottoman lycees (one of which was for girls) in 1918. Teacher’s colleges, founded in Istanbul (1846) and Cairo (1872, Dar al-`Ulum), included both Western and Islamic subjects in their curricula.
More isolated from the West and with a weaker state, Iran trailed Egypt and the central Ottoman Empire in military and educational reform. Dar al-Funun (1851) taught military science, engineering, medicine, and Western languages, but it lacked firm support from the shah. Without an official ministry of education until 1925, other ministries set up their own schools: political science (1899/1900), agriculture (19oo/01), arts (191o), and law (1921).
Phase Three: Under Colonial Rule. Colonial rule lasted anywhere from a few years to a century or more, and several Muslim countries escaped it altogether. There were three types of educational institutions under colonial rule: Western-style, unreformed Islamic, and hybrids of the two.
As colonies for European settlement, Algeria, Libya, and Palestine suffered most under colonial rule. In Algeria, over 132 years, the French established primary, secondary, and higher schools (medicine in 1859; law, sciences, and letters in 1879) for the settlers. The University of Algiers brought the higher schools together in 19o9. A handful of Muslims submitted to France’s “civilizing mission” and assimilated sufficiently to enter this system, but separate “Arab-French” schools were intended for them. Italian rule in Libya (1911-1943) was too brief to leave a comparable educational legacy. Palestine under British rule (1918-1948) was unique, for there most settlers were European Jews. With their own Zionist agenda and Hebrew-language schools, they left state-run schools largely to Palestinian Arabs.
Elsewhere colonial rulers ran Western-style schools mostly for the local population. In Egypt, Syria, and Iraq, these were inherited from indigenous reformers; other colonial regimes mostly started from scratch.
Whether frankly exploitative or conscious of a “white man’s burden,” colonial regimes put their own interests first. They usually intended for secondary and higher schools to turn out docile government clerks and technicians. In India the British experimented with reformed Muslim madrasahs and Hindu Sanskrit schools from the 1780s to the 1830s, when those who wanted to anglicize the courts and administration won out. English language schools and colleges proliferated thereafter. The universities of Calcutta, Bombay, and Madras opened in 1857 as examining bodies on the model of the University of London.
The Indian “Mutiny” of 1857 haunted Lord Cromer, who administered Egypt for England from 1883 to 1907. He warned that “orientals” with a European education easily turned nationalist if frustrated in aspirations for official posts. He severely restricted enrollments in the elite primary-secondary-higher schools track, imposed school fees few could afford, and developed a curriculum as apolitical and narrowly professional as possible. He did not object to terminal “elementary” (distinguished from the elite “primary”) schools for the masses, but these were underfunded and of poor quality in any case.
Cromer squelched Egyptian demands for a university, recommending as a model instead the Muhammadan Anglo-Oriental College (Aligarh University since 1920), founded in India in 1875 by Sayyid Ahmad Khan. Modeled on the Oxbridge colleges, and with an English headmaster, it turned out officials, lawyers, and teachers-presumably loyal servants of the British Raj. [See Aligarh. ]
Afraid that the `ulama’ might lead mass protests, colonial rulers often left the madrasahs alone, starved for funds, overshadowed by state schools, and with dwindling prospects for their graduates. Cromer halfheartedly supported Muhammad `Abduh’s effort to reform al-Azhar, but abandoned him when the `ulama’ and the palace resisted. In India, a new Azhar-like college at Deoband, which offered a traditional religious education, received no state support.
The colonial age was golden for missionary and minority community schools. Banned from proselytizing Muslims, Catholic and Protestant missionaries either tried to convert Jews and Eastern Christians or emphasized a humanitarian mission of medicine and schools for all. The American University of Beirut (the former Syrian Protestant College), Beirut’s University SaintJoseph, and Bogazici University (formerly Robert College) of Istanbul are legacies of the missionary age. The missionaries also led the way in education for girls, with the first state girls’ schools following in Istanbul, Cairo, and Tehran in 1858, 1873, and 1897/98, respectively.
Phase Four: Post-Independence Educational Unification and Expansion. Reacting against colonial policies, newly independent states moved to unify their educational systems by subordinating missionary, minority, and Islamic schools to state control. In Turkey, Mustafa Kemal Ataturk forced national curricula on foreign and minority schools in the 1920s, and Reza Shah nationalized primary and secondary schools in Iran in the 1930s. Syria closed French schools in 1945 during the final struggle for independence. Egypt finally consolidated control over missionary and minority schools as the British left in the 1950s. Exceptionally, the American University in Cairo eluded nationalization (Nasser’s daughter and Hosni Mubarak’s wife were among its students), as did foreign and communal schools in decentralized Lebanon. Robert College was nationalized and renamed Bogazici University.
As for the Islamic schools, Turkey and the Soviet Union simply abolished them. The closing of Istanbul University’s faculty of theology (the former Medrese Su-leymaniye) in 1933 left Turkey without higher Islamic education until Ankara University added a faculty of theology in 1949. Iranian madrasahs survived the Pahlavi regime, but the Qur’an schools did not. In 1961 Nasser forced al-Azhar into a state university mold, adding colleges of medicine, engineering, and commerce and even a women’s college. Indonesia, more diverse culturally, tolerated private Islamic schools and universities alongside its State Islamic Religious Institutes, which trained judges and teachers.
Post-independence Syria switched to Arabic as the language of its medical school, but often vested interests and the need for Western languages as a means of keeping up with world science prevailed over nationalist pressures. In linguistically fragmented India and Nigeria, the English of much advanced schooling unifies the elite but hinders mass access to higher education.
Nationalism, populism, and socialism put free, compulsory, universal schooling on every independent state’s agenda, but universality is still an elusive goal. In the 192os Turkey made all levels of education free, and Iran decreed that only the better-off would have to pay. Egypt made primary school free in 1943-a step toward unification with the inferior “elementary” schools; secondary and higher education became free in 195o and 1961. Even without questions of quality, the literacy and enrollment rates in Table i show the distance yet to be traveled. The gap between male and female enrollments is also a problem: in 198o, 76 percent of Egyptian males were enrolled compared to 63 percent of females, with 78 percent to 56 percent in Turkey, and 95 percent to 55 percent in Iraq.
The Ottomans founded Darulfunun (Istanbul University) in 1900. British-dominated Egypt managed only a small private university in 19o8, and had to wait until 1925 for a state university. Tehran followed in 1934. Women entered state higher education in the 1910s in Turkey, 1928 in Egypt, and 1935 in Iran. The Syrian University dates from the French era, the University of Indonesia from the last years of Dutch rule. Gordon Memorial College evolved into the University of Khartoum (1956). In the rush of independence in the 1950s and 1960s a university seemed almost as important symbolically as a flag.
An interval of some years usually followed before a second state university was founded, with rapid proliferation thereafter in the more populous countries. Ballooning primary and secondary enrollments inexorably increased demand. Quantity overwhelmed quality, financing faltered, standards plunged, and graduates scrambled for government jobs. Educational specialties bore little relation to the job market, and vocational education languished. Iran and Turkey each had twenty nine universities by 1992; Egypt, with a comparable but more concentrated population and fewer resources, had thirteen. Turkey pioneered adult education programs in the 1920s, and since the 1960s open universities have become popular.
Phase Five: The Challenge of Islamization. Israel’s defeat of the Arabs in 1967, the oil price boom following the 1973 War, and Iran’s Islamic Revolution (1979) all contributed to the Islamist revival. Though differing widely on specifics, Islamists see current regimes as morally bankrupt and reformed schools as a means of moving toward an ideal Islamic society.
The Islamic Republic of Iran provides the fullest example of a regime’s attempt to islamize its educational institutions. Although the Free Islamic University and other new institutions were founded after the revolution, the main task was the overhaul of existing institutions. With minor exceptions, the universities were closed from 198o to 1983. Professors and school teachers presumed to be enemies of the revolution were fired, and many fled abroad. When the universities reopened, ideological tests were used to screen student applicants and professors. Several universities were renamed for religious leaders. Coeducation at all levels disappeared, and “Islamic dress” became mandatory for females. Required religious courses were emphasized, and there was an attempt to introduce Islamic perspectives into every field of study. With the `ulama’ controlling the state, the neglected madrasahs-and especially Ayatollah Khomeini’s Fayziyah Madrasah in Qom-took on a new prominence.
Revolutionary upheaval, war, economic crisis, and runaway population growth inevitably forced the revolutionary regime into pragmatic compromises. To some purists’ dismay, English retained a strong place in the curriculum. Now the justification was not only its importance for science and technology, but also its utility in exporting the revolution and making converts to Islam. Acute shortages of teachers, funds, school buildings, and ideologically correct textbooks prompted appeals for emigres to return, the relaxation of ideological tests, and even the reopening of private schools.
Islamists from Morocco to Indonesia are demanding educational changes similar to Iran’s. Since 1980, universities with “Islamic” in their names have opened in Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Malaysia, and Niger. Very different Islamist regimes in Iran, Pakistan, the Sudan, and Saudi Arabia vie with each other for religious legitimacy. Never having experienced colonialism or coeducation, and fortified by oil wealth and Wahhabi ideology, the Saudis proclaim their brand of Islamism as a model, but their Islamist detractors are unconvinced. In educational institutions and elsewhere, regimes that inherited more complex legacies of indigenous reform, colonial rule, and postindependence nationalism and socialism balance uneasily today between cooption and repression of Islamist challengers.
[See also Azhar, al-; International Islamic University at Islamabad; International Islamic University at Kuala Lumpur; Madrasah; Universities; Zaytunah.]
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Colonna, Fanny. Instituteurs algeriens, 1883-1939. Paris, 1975. Far broader insights into Algerian education than the specialized title suggests.
Dodge, Bayard. The American University of Beirut. Beirut, 1958. Concise survey by a former president of the institution.
Eccel, A. Chris. Egypt, Islam, and Social Change: Al-Azhar in Conflict and Accommodation. Berlin, 1984. A mine of information and stimulating interpretation. Despite organizational problems and excessive sociological jargon, the fundamental work in English on al-Azhar. Findley, Carter V. “Knowledge and Education in the Modern Middle East: A Comparative View.” In The Modern Economic and Social History of the Middle East in Its World Context, edited by Georges Sabagh, pp. 130-154. Cambridge, 1989. Thoughtful, concise overview.
Heyworth-Dunne, James. Introduction to the History of Education in Modern Egypt (1939). London, 1968. Unsurpassed in English on Egyptian education up to the British occupation of 1882.
Husayn, Taha. The Stream of Days: A Student at the Azhar. Translated by Hilary Wayment. 2d ed. London, 1948. Colorful, hostile view of traditional Islamic education by a famous blind writer and reformer.
Lelyveld, David. Aligarh’s First Generation: Muslim Solidarity in British India. Princeton, 1978.
Matthews, Roderic D., and Matta Akrawi. Education in Arab Countries of the Near East. Washington, D.C., 1949. Lacking in historical depth; but still useful for the state of education in Egypt, Syria, Lebanon, Iraq, Trans jordan, and Palestine in the 1940s.
Menashri, David. Education and the Making of Modern Iran. Ithaca, N.Y., 1992. By far the most thoroughly researched and comprehensive book in English on Iranian education.
Misnad, Sheikha al-. The Development of Modern Education in the Gulf. London, 1985. Focuses on Kuwait, Bahrain, and Qatar, and especially useful on the issue of women’s education.
Murphy, Lawrence R. The American University in Cairo, 1919-1987. Cairo, 1987. Official history.
Qubain, Fahim. Education and Science in the Arab World. Baltimore, 1966.
Reid, Donald Malcolm. Cairo University and the Making of Modern Egypt. Cambridge, 1990. Education set in social and political context. Also useful for pre-university education.
Szyliowicz, Joseph S. Education and Modernization in the Middle East. Ithaca, N.Y., 1973. Historical overview, with emphasis on Turkey, Iran, and Egypt.
Thomas, R. Murray. A Chronicle of Indonesian Higher Education. Singapore, 1973.
Tibawi, A. L. Islamic Education: Its Traditions and Modernization into the Arab National Systems. London, 1972. Survey by a veteran Palestinian educator.
Waardenburg, Jean-Jacques. Les universitis dans le monde arab actuel. 2 vols. Paris, 1966. Packed with valuable statistics.
The World of Learning, 1993. London, 1993. Europa Publications’ indispensable annual reference volume listing institutions of higher learning.
DONALD MALCOLM REID

Educational Methods

Methods are a critical element in realizing the goals of any educational enterprise. They link teachers, students, and content. Curricula may be carefully designed to achieve particular ends, but unless appropriate instructional methods are utilized, the subject matter will not be communicated effectively to the students, the anticipated learning will not take place, and the educational goals will not be achieved. Like all aspects of education, methods are deeply influenced by cultural environments and traditions; thus it is appropriate to consider the educational methods used in traditional Islamic societies.
Inheritance from the Past. Given the central role of the Qur’an in Islamic civilization, it is natural that Islamic education revolved around the sacred book considered to be the basis of all knowledge. From the time a child began school at the age of six or seven, his major preoccupation was to memorize the Qur’an as perfectly as possible. The main technique was repetition, in which students learned by imitating the teacher. They would repeat a section of the Qur’an until it had been committed completely and accurately to memory and then proceed to the next section. The teacher would recite the verse and the students would chant it after him; to aid memorization students would utilize such techniques as rocking back and forth while chanting. The goal of education was to produce students who were good Muslims-that is, students who could recite the Qur’an accurately; understanding it was not a primary goal.
At the higher levels the focus was also on rote learning, although specific texts and commentaries were studied intensively. The teacher would often dictate passages from a work and then deliver a lecture interpreting them. Students took notes, which they would seek to memorize in order to demonstrate that they had recorded the lesson accurately. Two techniques facilitated the process of committing large quantities of material to memory. First, lessons were repeated aloud until the material was memorized; silent reading was frowned on. Second, many important texts were rewritten in verse form.
The ultimate goal was not to acquire the ability to repeat a text, but to understand it. Students were expected to acquire knowledge first through rote learning but then to learn how to apply what they had memorized creatively to particular issues. Thus students were presumed to learn the argumentative techniques that the authors of the texts had employed. Such methods as discussions and disputations were used in teaching, but these followed well-established patterns and focused on issues that had been debated for generations. At its best this approach produced sharply honed minds, but learning remained a closed process into which new ideas and concepts could not easily be introduced.
Teachers possessed great authority. The Qur’an gave them the right to administer corporal punishment whenever necessary, and use of the rod was widely regarded as essential if children were to develop suitable character. At the more advanced levels education was highly personalized, because the system was based on the view that knowledge was acquired through contact with learned individuals. A student would select a master and develop a close personal and intellectual relationship with him. The choice of a teacher was usually the single most important decision that a student could make, for one’s career was commonly determined by the mentor’s reputation. The teacher was responsible for the moral as well as the intellectual development of the student. A psychological distance always remained between them, however, and teachers could and often did punish their disciples severely.
Over time education became more institutionalized, especially at the higher levels, where various kinds of colleges were established; these, however, retained the personal, informal character of earlier institutions. Egypt’s famous al-Azhar, for example, possessed no regular schedule, entrance requirements, formal standards, required courses, examinations, or sharp distinction between faculty and students-a teacher in one course could be a student in another.
Some early Arab scholars who studied educational processes advocated the use of different methods and arrangements, especially at the higher levels, but their treatises had only limited impact. The prevailing methods effectively socialized large populations into Islamic beliefs, values, and practices, and Qur’anic schools using these methods continued to thrive and are today to be found in large numbers throughout the Islamic world.
Creation of Modern Schools. The establishment of modern schools in the nineteenth century did not produce any dramatic change in teaching methods. Two major factors account for this continuity. First, much Western education of the time was also characterized by strict discipline and memorization. Second, the Western powers had no interest in establishing schools that would prepare students to think independently and creatively, especially in the colonies. They developed curricula that were similar to those at home and expected students to master a body of knowledge that would prepare them to be loyal, obedient administrators. The cultivation of intelligence, sensitivity, and awareness was often rigidly suppressed, in Egypt under Lord Cromer. Ministries of education permitted no deviation from strict rules and regulations. A harsh examination system that determined the student’s educational position and future prospects reinforced the emphasis on rote learning; students strained to memorize every word in their notebooks in order to pass the dreaded examination that would permit them to continue their academic training.
Even in states that retained their independence, Western influences did not transform traditional patterns. At first large numbers of Europeans were hired to teach in reformist schools, but this was an inefficient arrangement because their lectures had to be translated into the local language. To meet the need for native teachers the Ottomans founded the Daruhnuallim in 1848. Its graduates and those of the other teacher-training colleges subsequently opened throughout the region replaced the Europeans, but teaching methods retained their traditional character for two reasons. First, these schools were based on nineteenth-century European models in which lectures and memorization were the norm. Second, since most teachers and students in the new schools were graduates of the religious schools, they tended to maintain traditional patterns.
The major difference between the traditional schools such as al-Azhar and the modern schools, therefore, lay not so much in the methods or in the behavior of teachers but in the bureaucratization and formalization of schooling and in the kinds of knowledge that the new curricula embodied. Although the methods of the latter are usually labeled “Islamic,” they were in many ways consonant with Western practices and heavily influenced by the interests and goals of the colonizing power.
Contemporary Methods. The achievement of independence brought little change to these patterns; the character of education remained the same-highly centralized and oriented toward passing examinations-although its size expanded rapidly to meet the pent-up demand for modern schooling. As a result, traditional patterns were reinforced as exploding enrollments at all levels created an ever greater demand for qualified, motivated teachers that could not be met.
Most emerging states had to utilize whatever teaching resources were available, regardless of their qualifications. Hence many teachers, especially at the primary level, have only a secondary education and are poorly prepared in subject matter and teaching methods. Teachers at the secondary level are better trained; most are graduates of teacher-training institutes. They tend to be familiar with the subject matter but usually know little about how to teach effectively, because teacher training remains weak and formalistic. Curricula in the institutes stress theory and abstract subjects; there is little concern with practical preparation or with teaching general and specialized methods of instruction. Moreover, few in-service training programs are available, and so teachers tend to stagnate and to remain at a fixed level of professional development. They remember the body of knowledge that they memorized in school and teach it in the same way until they retire. Most teachers carry out their tasks mechanically and tend to be authoritarian, formalistic, and apathetic, adhering closely to the textual materials, which they either dictate or hand out in condensed form. They have little incentive for innovation, and a national corps of inspectors ensures that the ministry’s rules and regulations are scrupulously followed.
Furthermore, teachers tend to regard themselves as authority figures rather than as partners in a learning experience. Students are not expected to ask questions, and certainly not to challenge a teacher’s knowledge and authority by raising different points; rather, they are expected to memorize their notes as thoroughly as possible in order to pass the all-important examinations. Even when a teacher assigns a topic for research (a rare event), students are not expected to take the initiative but rather to work within prescribed boundaries by consulting only the sources suggested by the teacher.
When called on to recite or to answer a question, the good student does not present his own ideas but demonstrates his prowess by parroting the proper answer as it appeared, word for word, in the textbook or in the lecture. Often reciters stand at attention while the rest of the class sits quietly. Such behavior is consonant with a cultural environment that emphasizes hierarchy and conformity. Teachers are not expected to be motivators or to prepare students to be creative problem-solvers but to maintain discipline and to socialize students into traditional values of respect for authority and obedience.
Resource constraints further limit the possibility of applying more student-centered methods. The available textbooks are of poor quality; most are merely unadapted translations of Western texts or works produced by authors without any practical experience, and these do little to excite the imagination of the student. Audiovisual materials and other teaching aids are rarely available. Library resources too are very limited, and what is available is usually tightly controlled by librarians who are often legally accountable for each book.
These generalizations apply not only across countries but across subject areas-even those such as science, foreign languages, and vocational training that have received special attention because of their significance for the achievement of national developmental goals. Science continues to be taught in a formalistic manner. Schools at all levels lack adequate laboratory facilities, and what is available is often not utilized properly. Equipment is expensive and scarce, and teachers are usually held personally responsible for every item, so that breakage becomes a catastrophe that the teacher seeks to avoid at any cost. Instead of allowing students to engage in practical work, to solve problems for themselves, the teacher demonstrates his ability by carrying out experiments while the students watch. Even though simple homemade devices can be very effective in science courses, few teachers possess the knowledge or motivation to develop and utilize them.
Foreign-language instruction is another critical area where poor results are commonplace. In most countries every student is required to study at least one foreign language, but few students acquire fluency. Many of the instructors possess only an imperfect knowledge of the language they are teaching. Furthermore, important advances in instructional methods are very rarely encountered in textbooks, teacher manuals, or classrooms.
Vocational and technical education has also been emphasized everywhere, but once again poor teaching methods limit its potential contribution to national development. Vocational schools do not prepare students adequately for industrial occupations because of inadequate facilities and curricula and the difficulty of finding and retaining staff with industrial knowledge. The teaching is theoretical rather than practical, memorization is commonplace, and students spend little if any time working with machinery and tools and acquiring hands-on experience.
Higher Education. Although higher education has been favored by all Islamic states, in this area too the rapid expansion of enrollments has greatly outpaced the available human and physical resources. The result has been that in almost every college facilities are stretched to their utmost, many faculty members are not highly qualified, and student-teacher ratios are too high. Education has become a mass-production process with little interaction between student and teacher. Universities in the richer Arab countries utilize temporary faculty from other states, but this solution creates a divided faculty, many of whom have little interest in the institution or its students.
The drop in quality is evident in all fields, but somenotably the humanities, the arts, and the social sciences-have suffered more than others because enrollments there can be expanded at low cost. To increase the number of students in scientific courses entails expenditures for equipment and the employment of more specialists, whereas in the humanities and social sciences such expenditures can be neglected; the same professor is simply expected to lecture to three or four times as many students as before.
Partly because of the overcrowding that characterizes most universities, mass lectures without questions or discussion have become the common teaching method. Furthermore, these lectures may consist largely of repetitions from notes taken years earlier. Even committed scholars rely on mass lectures. They have few options when facing hundreds or even thousands of poorly prepared students who believe education is synonymous with memorization. In some cases, students come to the university without even the ability to take notes, so faculty members have been known to dictate resumes of their courses for the students to memorize. Under these circumstances there is obviously very limited opportunity for student-faculty interaction or for research activities.
The same patterns severely limit the effectiveness of graduate training. In many countries students pursuing advanced degrees take little formal coursework. They are expected to work independently and to carry out research under the guidance of a senior faculty member. Although this method can produce fine scholars, this seldom happens because of limited student-faculty interaction, resource limitations, and the lack of academic freedom. Thus a vicious cycle is perpetuated.
Prospects for the Future. Throughout the Islamic world one can find exceptions to this sorry state of affairs. There are many teachers who are committed to their students and attempt to make schooling an exciting and stimulating experience. Unfortunately, they are found primarily in the elite schools of urban centers, and even there they struggle against great handicaps. The more remote the area, the worse the facilities and the more traditional the teaching styles.
The problem and its implications are widely recognized. The use of modern teaching methods is usually precluded by poor training, large classes, scarce resources, limited support, high degrees of centralization, rigid examination systems, low morale, and a traditional environment. There is little incentive or opportunity to engage in meaningful teaching or to change the pattern of teacher dominance. Even Turkey, where democratic values prevail, has found it difficult to create a different environment in its schools.
The need to change this situation is by now generally accepted. Many Muslim scholars argue that existing teaching methods are not consonant with a real Qur’anic approach to education, and pedagogues point out that these patterns do not promote the intellectual and moral development of young people or prepare them to function in modern societies. Nonetheless, the criterion of good teaching remains the number of students who successfully pass the national examinations, the primary purpose of which is to identify those (usually of elite background) who are qualified for further schooling; the majority receive only an elementary education, and the number of functional illiterates remains high.
Many governments are seeking ways to transform these patterns. They accept the need to upgrade teaching staffs, modernize curricula, and improve facilities. Many are turning to modern technologies to improve educational practices. Turkey, for example, has created an “Open University” in which classes are conducted via television. Large numbers of teachers are receiving instruction in subject matter and pedagogical techniques, and it is hoped that thousands of students will be positively affected. Computers are also being emphasized in many countries.
It remains to be seen, however, whether these technologies will contribute to the transformation that is required, or whether they will simply be integrated into the existing educational culture and suffer the fate of other reform projects. Such technologies can play a useful role, but only if a new orientation toward education is accepted within a society. In other words, quality must replace quantity as the major criterion for educational policymakers; political elites must recognize that development requires creative, independent, resourceful citizens capable of critical reasoning and moral judgment, and they must be willing to allocate the necessary resources to create the educational systems that produce such citizens.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
`Abd Allah, `Abd al-Rahman Salih. Educational Theory: A Qur’anic Outlook. Makkah (Mecca), Saudi Arabia, 1982.
Berkey, Jonathan P. The Transmission of Knowledge in Medieval Cairo. Princeton, 1992.
Eickelman, Dale F. Knowledge and Power in Morocco. Princeton, 1985.
Massialis, Byron G., and Samir Ahmed Jarrar. Education in the Arab World. New York, 1983.
Massialis, Byron G., and Samir Ahmed Jarrar. Arab Education in Transition. New York, 1991.
Mottahedeh, Roy P. The Mantle of the Prophet. New York, 1985. Szyliowicz, Joseph S. Education and Modernization in the Middle East. Ithaca, N.Y., 1973.
Za’rour, George I. “Universities in Arab Countries.” PRE Working Paper, no. 62, 1988. Washington, D.C.: World Bank.
JOSEPH S. SZYLIOWICZ

Educational Reform

An understanding of the dynamic relationship among political, social, and educational changes is central to the determination of the nature of educational reform in the Muslim world during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Changes in curricular and instructional policies and their implications for intellectual and cultural development are discussed in relation to four major issues.
The Muslim world initially rejected as irrelevant changes introduced from Europe in the early nineteenth century. Changes in technical, military, and vocational training dictated by local rulers and elites did not conform to the traditional educational practices that were the remnants of Islamic education. Comparing these practices with recent changes runs the risk of overstating where and how educational reform has taken place.
Available literature indicates that old practices were not reformed and changes resulted in no significant attitudinal or cultural development. Setting the European utilitarian and the Muslim altruistic modes against each other resulted in centralized state-controlled educational institutions and a complete departure from Islamic education.
The intellectual stagnation that characterized the Muslim world since the early fourteenth century remained despite mass and compulsory schooling in the postcolonial era. Recent reports indicate school and teacher shortages, low educational quality, lack of planning and of curricular and instructional compatibility, and disparity in access to and completion of all types and levels of education between the sexes, between rich and poor, and between rural and urban populations.
Preservation of Islamic Culture. The Islamic world’s reaction to Western-introduced changes in education has lacked the intellectual dynamics that once marked its educational system, in which formal and informal teaching and learning took place based on the accomplishments and needs of teachers and pupils. Seyyed Hossein Nasr (1987) discusses the oral transmission that produced some highly knowledgeable, though illiterate, Muslims. Fazlur Rahman (1982) does not mention either these distinctive characteristics or such remaining institutions as the kuttab (place of primary and Qur’anic education), the halaqah, the majlis (study circle in a mosque or private home) and the madrasah (center of secondary and higher learning). In the Islamic world, Western educational practices did not produce the same economic, intellectual, and social development that they did in western Europe. Adnan Badnan (1989) reports a lacks of cohesion in educational planning, which is inhibited by socioeconomic, technical, or cultural factors. Educational objectives are ambiguous; although the philosophy claims to be rooted in the ideals of Islam, the pedagogical strategies contain both modern methodologies and political, nationalistic rhetoric. The inconclusive, fragmented, and contradictory literature, in both English and Arabic, indicates that educational transformation is an unstable process.
No full account of curricular reform is available despite the many reports on changes in the instructional process and the increased number of schools, universities, and student enrollment. Reports by Albert Hourani (1981 and 1983), Jesse T. Jones (Education in East Africa, New York, 1970), UNESCO (1961), and others largely praise the progress of the “reformed and modernized” education system. Recent accounts, however, such as Nasr’s, question such conclusions that confuse traditional Islamic reform with fundamentalism and modernity with nationalism. Others, like Stephen P. Heyneman (1971), Ali Mazrui (The Africans: A Triple Heritage, Boston and Toronto, 1986), and A. L. Tibawi (1972) expose conflicting purposes and incoherent systems resulting from colonial and missionary educational changes and emphasize problems of imported development strategies and personnel.
These changes were rejected by the local peoples and religious leaders who were suspicious of any new type of formal education, although foreign cultural practices had been integrated during the eighth and ninth centuries. They considered the European educational changes irrelevant, alien, and expressions of colonial exploitation and missionary attempts to christianize the population. These views were not baseless, as missionary education, foreign private, and colonial government-supported school systems attest (British Parliamentary Records vol. 137 [1905])
Changes instituted by the Ottoman ruler Sultan Selim III (r. 1789-1807), considered in the traditional literature on modernization as the precursor to reform, were viewed by Stanford J. Shaw (“Some Aspects of the Aims and Achievements of the Nineteenth-Century Ottoman Reformers” in Beginnings of Modernization in the Middle East: The Nineteenth Century, edited by W. R. Polk and R. L. Chambers [Chicago and London, 1968], pp. 29,39) as traditional reforms; old elements remained even when they were superseded. The result was the development of a heavy, complicated, and paralyzing hierarchy that stifled Ottoman educational development.
Sultan Mahmud II’s (r. 1808-1839) Tanzimat reform ideology is another example of Ottoman reaction to the military advancement of the French as early as 1789. The impact of this regimented, centralized system on modern bureaucracy in the Muslim world is apparent even now, particularly in the civil service systems: personnel affairs, education, and justice.
Educational objectives shifted from an emphasis on discipline for both children and adults (Eickelman, 1985) to a formalization of the relationship of citizens to the state to meet its economic and political interests. Local governors’ policies, led by an eagerness to acquire European technologies to strengthen and modernize the military, weakened the kuttabs and madrasahs, often distributing their waqf (endowment) among the ruling class and missionary societies to establish private schools. J. Heyworth-Dunne (An Introduction to the History of Education in Modern Egypt, new impression [London, 1968]) suggests that the Egyptian Mamluk Muhammad `Ali’s (r. 18o6-1841) imposed system is the key to understanding why Egypt’s present system is so defective and poorly adapted to the country. Although he established a military school (1816), technical and engineering schools and colleges, and a medical school (1827), they were for men only and staffed by European Christians. He also sent large student missions, all men mainly of ruling and elite families, to study in Europe in 1826. In these European schools, the men were forced to study Turkish, Italian, French, and English. Even when translations were available to aid in the instruction, comprehension problems were not overcome because the men were unprepared. The shortcomings of this instructional system also stemmed, in part, from its neglect of women’s education, particularly at the secondary level, and training of teachers for the elementary and the preparatory schools. But, most of all, the system was not coordinated with the traditional practices and appeared to operate as a rival or even as a substitute. New subject matters were divorced from the Qur’anic study and the sciences of antiquity such as astronomy, geography, and medicine. Above all, Tibawi asserts, the system had little or no direct intellectual purpose; it existed primarily to train the local people to serve colonial and local government interests.
Changing Function of Education. Despite its lack of vitality after the fifteenth century, Lillian Sanderson points out in “Education and Administrative Control in Colonial Sudan and Northern Nigeria” (African Affairs 74 [October 1975): 427-441) that Islamic education achieved its goals: to pass on the customs of the adult community, to teach children the knowledge and skills of the culture that they needed to function effectively, and to instill in them beliefs about the relationship between the seen and the unseen in the universe.
What remained of the Islamic education system became peripheral, reserved for the underprivileged, such as girls and poor rural and urban masses. Primary Islamic education, for example, came to a standstill when Turkish replaced its main language, Arabic, as the medium of instruction in most government schools, as did colonial languages in private schools. Changes, as Gregory Starrett has stated, “transformed people’s ideas about religion” and its importance to community development by removing the teaching of Islam as the basis of character formation and making it a new subject called “Religion,” without primary status in the curriculum (“Appropriating the Kuttab: The Functionalization of Mass Religious Instruction in Egypt, 1882-1952,” paper presented at the Middle East Studies Association Annual Conference, Washington, D.C., 1991).
Changes introduced in the nineteenth century did not meet Islamic cultural needs. The government schools were agents of the colonial policy to control Muslim rulers, administrative management, and agricultural productivity. As described by Leila Ahmad, when enrollments grew, girls were denied places in classrooms and tuition was instituted in secondary schools, making girls’ education of low priority (Women and Gender in Islam, New Haven and London, 1992).
The English colonial system penetrated the Indian subcontinent, the majority of the Middle East, and many African nations, even though it claimed that it did not interfere in internal affairs (Mazrui). The French colonial system in North and West Africa and in Syria and Lebanon, as W. Bryant Mumford suggests, assimilated the existing system to the point of annihilating it (Africans Learn to Be French, New York, 1970). It contributed further to diverting the rural system from traditional Islamic education to superstitious social customs, dogmatic and nationalistic creeds, and passive Sufi orders. And instead of strengthening institutions of higher learning, such as the oldest, the 1,100-year-old al-Qarawiyin in Fez, Morocco, the colonial government dismantled many old centers.
Similar movements took place in other regions, with varying degrees of interaction with European expatriates and different degrees of emphasis on traditional or modern elements in education depending on the colonizers’ policy and the extent of their penetration of native cultures.
Comparing the Two Schemes of Education. A comparison of teaching in the kuttdb and the madrasah to the colonizers’ technical, military, and vocational training or the missionaries’ book knowledge is not an accurate indicator of educational reform. What is obvious, however, is that educational practices have changed from informal family-based, formal teacher-centered, and informal decentralized tarbiyah (character and intellectual development) to either formal missionary-controlled or state-centralized schooling.
The function of teaching was primarily Qur’anic talqin (acquisition and dissemination of meaning and spirit), instilling community values while combating illiteracy. Other types of kuttdb taught some knowledge of akhbdr (history), hisdb (simple arithmetic and reckoning), and elementary Arabic nahw (grammar), reading, and writing. The function of the madrasah was to complement the objectives of both kuttdbs, as well as the halaqah’s advanced `ulum al-Qur’an (Qur’anic sciences), `ulum alhadith (sciences of the Prophetic tradition), and their ancillary sciences of Arabic nahw and adab (literature). Thus, hikmah (wisdom), kalam (philosophy/theology), mantiq (logic), `ilm al-nujum (astronomy), music, and `ilm al-tibb (medicine) were part of the curriculum even early in the nineteenth century (Ali, 1983). Government and missionary schools, meanwhile, sought to implant European secular and Christian values of agrarian, office, and class bureaucracy (Bennabi, 1969).
Although printed textbooks and notebooks have replaced the murabbi’s (teacher or guide) scripted notes and the lawh (tablet) in the urban schools particularly, book and lecture instruction and memorization of factual information continue to prevail. But they lack the essence of the transmitted oral tradition.
A pupil who used to study under one teacher with whom she or he had a relationship and moved from one subject to the next after showing mastery through oral discussion or by tutoring younger students is now instructed on a mass scale, segregated by sex, and taught different subjects in a school day. The idea of special girls’ schools was introduced by the Catholic missionaries. In these schools girls were taught embroidery, home economics, domestic skills, and nursing; they also read the Bible. Boys were taught office skills, agricultural, military, and vocational trades, and some fiqh (jurisprudence) to serve government needs. Pupils in these schools, according to M. H. Khan, are tested in material that is irrelevant to their culture so they can be promoted to the next level taught by a new teacher (History of Muslim Education, vol. 2, 1751-1854 A.D., Karachi, 1973). The concept of tarbiyah has been reduced to passing on some skills and information to qualify for a job.
These two modes of instruction represent a departure from the Islamic perspective that was instrumental in the evolution of the Islamic civilization. Rahman notes that intellectual stagnation occurred during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, when manuals and commentaries dominated, and suggests that the educational process had virtually ceased to function by the late 1500s when the Andalusian Islamic community was dismantled. Eickelman, however, sees the mnemonic devices of Islamic education as a continuation of the socialization process even during and after the colonial period when systems of mass and compulsory schooling were legislated.
The Islamic system was abandoned when the state and colonial governments made decisions for the local peoples, and Muslims lost their scholarly and intellectual initiative. With the exception of scattered individual scholars and artisans during the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries that Nasr points out, Islamic educational practices fell into abeyance. Attempts to expound the positive attitude of Islam toward science by those Rahman calls “pre-modernist reformers”-Sir Sayyid Ahmad Khan (1817-1898) and Syed Ameer Ali (d. 1928) of India, Namik Kemal (18401888) of Turkey, Jamal al-Din al-Afghani (1839-1897) and Muhammad `Abduh (1845-1905) of Egypt-resulted instead in complete separation of “Islamic” and “non-Islamic” knowledge. The strategies of nationalist elites such as Ma’ruf al-Rasafi (1877-1945) of Iraq, attest to differences in attitude, especially toward the implications of modern science for the traditional worldview and faith. These different attitudes and strategies created further confusion as to how to reintroduce science and technology in the culture. As Bennabi notes, the aspirations of some elites and rulers were not those of the community or the masses, but those of the colonials, missionaries, and romantic Orientalists.
The practical implications of these differences in attitude and of alienated aspirations may be seen in the varied and conflicting responses to modernization and in the present disparity between the ideal and the reality of the Muslim world, particularly in education. Sir Sayyid’s call in 186o for the reinterpretation of the Qur’an in light of modern experience, for example, failed because his views were not based on the Islamic perspective. He was not able to implement them in the Aligarh Muslim University of India, which he created to integrate religious beliefs with a modern scientific outlook. Islamic education was reduced to religious education and was left to teachers who had little training or support. Other reform ideas, put forth by those who had studied in Europe, had a similar negative results. Though these ideas were supported by elites and rulers, they were opposed by orthodox community leaders who feared they would contaminate the beliefs of the people and were ignored by the masses as irrelevant and providing no practical solutions to the ailing educational practices.
Community Development and Educational Progress. The rival Muslim and European education plans were in place until the second quarter of the twentieth century, when turmoil was the common factor in the social, political, and educational systems until military and political independence from colonialism in the 1950s and 1960s. Elites (who were largely educated either in missionary schools and colleges, or in East and West European and American institutions), Bennabi adds, contributed further to this turmoil by adopting Western ideas of change as the only means for reform without considering the actual needs and the sociopsychological factors of the community.
Post colonial changes, which almost uniformly used modern educational instructional schemes, also resulted in confusing outcomes. With minor variations in their level of success in achieving the objectives of the ruling class (introducing modern technology as a symbol of progress), the overall picture after almost fifteen years, as A. A. H. El-Koussy (Survey of Educational Progress in the Arab States, 196o-2965, Beirut, 1966) describes it, is still an aimless system with no evaluation system or overall direction. His description of the Arab world applies to other Muslim countries as well. Education authorities were working with enthusiasm, but they lacked planning and balance in educational development.
The general uncertainty of objectives prevailed with some exceptions. For example, the goal to return to regional languages (European languages became secondary to Arabic, Persian, or Urdu as the means of instruction in public schools) was achieved on a limited basis. This uncertainty is evident in African countries, especially those in North Africa (Abdel Hamid Mansouri, “Algeria between Tradition and Modernity: The Question of language,” Ph.D. diss., State University of New York at Albany, 1991), and in Asian countries, particularly in Pakistan where a full transition could not be effected (Taj Ali Koraishy, How to Reform Educational System in Pakistan and Other Muslim Countries, Gujranwala, 19’72). With the emphasis on nationalistic sentiments, the restoration of Arabic-the language of the Qur’anfor instruction became an ideal. Meanwhile, the use of regional languages for instruction meant that energy was directed to the translation of European textbooks instead of to writing new, native textbooks.
The rapid increase in the number of schools did not keep up with population growth or with the demand for education. High levels of illiteracy persist (UNESCO, 1990) and, not with standing arguments concerning the definition of literacy and the value of oral transmission, the levels and types of education available to women are still inferior to men’s (Nagat El-Sanabary, 1992). Educational quality is sacrificed inadvertently in pursuit of universal schooling and mandatory elementary education because of the lack of human and other resources and of coherent regional planning and technical competency (Badran). Intellectual production, Bennabi (1959) laments, is hindered because Muslims value European products and wish to acquire them, without researching the ideas behind these products.
The nature of educational transformation varied among Muslim countries, reflecting on the development model adopted, the post-1969 Muslim world’s economic and political polarization, and the role played by oil-rich countries and their international benefactors. For example, the Malaysian government accommodated secularism in its educational program between 1971 and 198o, M. Kamal Hassan (1981) reports, expanding facilities and opportunities for education in science, mathematics, and technology-oriented disciplines along with attempts to equip the young people of all races and both sexes with the knowledge and skills necessary to participate in developing the economy. The relation between tradition and change in the Malaysian context did not arise from the question of cultural change, in which women’s place is used as the central discourse as in Saudi Arabia, Iran, and Pakistan. Instead, Muslim religious groups used new discourse to defend the encroachment of Western ideas. By emphasizing the morality question, epitomized in attire and sex segregation, particularly in higher education institutions, they have indirectly restricted intellectual role of women in the development process. Malaysian educational reform did not change the intellectual, attitudinal, and cultural development of the Muslim masses either. As similar movements are spreading in other Muslim communities from Indonesia to North America, one wonders whether there ever was an educational reform.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
General Works
Bennabi, Malek. Mushkilat al-thaqafah (The Problem of Educating). Arabic translation from the French original, Le probleme des etude, by `Abd al- Sabur Shahin. Beirut, 1969. Islam in History and Society. Translated from the French original, Vocation de I’Islam, by Asma Rashid. Islamabad, 1988. Cairo, 1959. Realistic analysis of the relationship between education and cultural development in the contemporary Muslim world by a native Algerian Muslim scholar. Eickelman, Dale F. Knowledge and Power in Morocco: The Education of a Twentieth-Century Notable. Princeton, 1985. Unprecedented anthropological analysis of the power of knowledge in a Muslim society. Chapter 3 deserves special reading to internalize the Qur’anic presence in a Muslim intellectual and social development. Heyneman, Stephen P. The Conflict over What is to Be Learned in Schools: A History of Curriculum Politics in Africa. Syracuse, N.Y., 1971.
Hourani, Albert. Arabic Thought in the Liberal Age, 1798-1939. Cambridge, 1983. The Emergence of the Modern Middle East. Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1981. Considered by Western and Arabic Middle Eastern scholars as classical works on reform and modernization in the region.
Nasr, Seyyed Hossein. Traditional Islam in the Modern World. London and New York, 1987. Leading work in deciphering traditional Islam and its contrast to fundamentalism and modernism with respect to Western scholarship. Part 2, “Traditional Islam and Modernism,” is particularly illuminating. The notes are rich with primary and secondary sources.
Rahman, Fazlur. Islam and Modernity: Transformation of an Intellectual Tradition. Chicago and London, 1982. Definitive work for understanding contemporary Islamic intellectualism as the essence of higher Islamic education, and the implications of the method of Qur’anic interpretation to the development of the intellectual Muslim.
Tanguiane, Sema. Literacy and Illiteracy in the World: Situation, Trends, and Prospects. Paris, 1990.
Tibawi, A. L. Islamic Education: Its Traditions and Modernizations into the Arab National Systems. London, 1972. Insightful interpretive work on educational theory in Islam and the implications of the philosophy of modernism on educational systems in the region.
United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO). Asia, Arab States; Africa: Education and Progress. Paris, 1961.
Missionary and Colonial Sources
Labaree, Mrs. Benjamin W. “The Heart of the Mohammedan Woman.” Missionary Review of the World 26.8 (August 1913): 578-582.
“Lebanon and Its Mission Schools.” Church Missionary Intelligencia 19 (October 1869): 293-3o6.
Prothero, M. “Recent Educational Changes in India.” Asiatic Quarterly Review, third series, 16, 31, 32 (July-October 1903): 292-299.
Regional Accounts
Ali, A. K. M. Ayyub. History of Traditional Islamic Education in Bangladesh (Down to AD 1980). Dhaka, 1983. Though reporting mainly on Bangladesh, the author presents a sequential development of Muslim education from Islam to 198o that was very much in place in the entire Indian subcontinent.
Badran, Adnan, ed. At the Crossroad: Education in the Middle East. New York, 1989. Collection of essays dealing with various countries in the region, addressing many issues of contemporary education, with emphasis on the role of education in regional development and conflict resolution.
El-Sanabary, Nagat. Education in the Arab Gulf States and the Arab World. New York, 1992. Extensive bibliographical guide with 1,775 entries of books, articles, dissertations, and reports covering the period 1959-1989. Important reference source to other Arab countries, even though it covers mainly bibliography concerning the seven Arab Gulf States. The introduction is an especially valuable summary of topics covered in the volume, including Islamic education.
Hassan, M. Kamal. “Education and Family in Modernizing Malaysia.” In Changes and the Muslim World, edited by Philip H. Stoddard, pp. 65-73. Syracuse, N.Y., 1981.
NIMAT HAFEZ BARAZANGI

The Islamization of Knowledge

Although the phrase “islamization of knowledge” is a recent one, the general impetus behind it is not new. The recurring need to view the approach to knowledge and reality within an Islamic frame is activated whenever Muslim scholars perceive a serious threat to Islam and a need to reemphasize its boundaries. In times of political uncertainty and change this need is the greatest; thus, Shah Wali Allah in eighteenth-century India warned of the loss of power and called for a revival in Islamic thought and knowledge. Social and political comment and the radical, first translation of the Qur’an from Arabic into Urdu, the more popular language, followed, making Islamic thought accessible to a greater number of people than ever before.
In the latter half of the nineteenth century one of the most significant attempts at what could justifiably be termed the islamization of knowledge was made in the famous college (later university) begun by Sir Sayyid Ahmad Khan in Aligarh. Facing the bleak aftermath of the failed 1857-1858 uprisings against the British, Sir Sayyid sensed a real danger to the Muslims who, insecure, powerless, and vulnerable, now wished to be isolated and to cling to tradition. Rejecting English and Western knowledge, they argued, would allow them to preserve their own identity and, at the same time, express their contempt for the emerging non-Islamic milieu.
Sir Sayyid hoped to benefit Muslim learning with the latest in Western education. His enthusiasm for Western scientific thought and rationalism was unbounded. Victorian clock towers and Islamic architecture, the cricket field and the mosque, Qur’anic scholars and Cambridge staff combined to produce a remarkable synthesis at Aligarh, which almost by itself produced the first major modern Muslim educational movement. Not all Muslims approved; many traditional religious scholars condemned Sir Sayyid as a kafir (nonbeliever), even a secret Christian convert. In time, Aligarh would provide the lead for the creation of Pakistan. Major modern Muslim figures like Muhammad Iqbal and Mawlana Mawdudi found a particularly sympathetic audience in Aligarh students. [See Aligarh and the biographies of Ahmad Khan, Iqbal, and Mawdudi]
In the Arab world, Muhammad `Abduh and Rashid Rida, based in Cairo, provided an intellectual lead. Their links with al-Azhar, one of the oldest and most respected Islamic universities of the world, further strengthened their position. These Muslims were neither rejecting modern knowledge and education nor simply wanting a return to the past; they were attempting to live in the here and now but in the light of Islam. [See Azhar, al-; and the biographies of `Abduh and Rashid Rida.]
Contemporary Context. Different, yet recognizably similar, perceptions of threat have created the demand for an islamization of knowledge in our times. Contemporary Muslim scholars have argued that although their nations were free from colonial rule, Western intellectual and cultural influences still dominated them. In particular, knowledge itself reflected these influences in the disciplines taught at the university and in the journals published in a European language and sold to the elite. Modern knowledge was clearly devoid of the Qur’anic concept of human nature and view of the universe. To combat this increasingly powerful trend, it was necessary first to reexamine the major disciplines, economics, anthropology and so on, and then to suggest how best they could reflect authentic Islamic thought. The approach to the discipline more than the discipline itself needed to be cast in a more Islamic frame.
There was reason for alarm. For a few decades after independence, the education available in most Muslim nations was either a shallow imitation of the West (sustaining an often corrupt and self-perpetuating elite) or isolated in traditional religious schools with little or no contact with the outside world. The time was ripe for appraisal.
It is necessary to place this intellectual development in the political context of the 1970s when it first gained strength. That period was one of notable Islamic intellectual and political energy. King Faysal of Saudi Arabia mobilized Muslim opinion behind him by his bold support for Islamic causes, support which included the use of OPEC prices as a formidable weapon; General Muhammad Zia ul-Haq declared martial law in Pakistan and launched a movement which would be known as the islamization of Pakistan; Afghanistan was invaded by Soviet troops, and the Afghans declared a “holy war” to liberate their land. Finally, the period culminated in the spectacular overthrow of the shah of Iran by Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini and the triumph of his Islamic revolution.
Not surprisingly, this political activity found its counterpart in intellectual endeavor. A fresh confidence and vigor appeared among Muslim scholars, who, in different parts of the world, attempted to reexamine their disciplines in order to recast them in the light of Islam. New Islamic centers and universities provided a natural academic home. for their scholarship both in the Muslim world (in Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Pakistan, and Malaysia) and in the West (the International Institute of Islamic Thought, formerly in Philadelphia [now Herndon, Virginia] in the United States and, in the United Kingdom, the Islamic Foundation in Leicester and the Islamic Academy in Cambridge).
Developments in communications technology helped to create a global network, facilitating scholarly exchange of ideas. Scholars discovered a thirst for a more Islamic interpretation of knowledge wherever Muslims lived.
The seminal first world conference on Muslim education was held, appropriately, in Makkah (Mecca) in 1977 and generated a series of seminars, conferences and books: educators such as Ali Ashraf wrote of “Islamic education” (1979, 1985), economists such as Khurshid Ahmad of “Islamic economics” (1981), M. N. Siddiqi of “Islamic Banking” (1983), sociologists such as Ilyas Ba-Yunus and Farid Ahmad of “Islamic sociology” (1985), and anthropologists of “Islamic anthropology” (Ahmed 1987). The fact that these scholars came from different countries and represented different disciplines added to the prestige and credibility of the endeavor.
Scholars now grappled seriously with the cluster of ideas that formed around the notion of the islamization of knowledge. One of the most active and committed scholars of his generation, Isma`il al-Faruqi, a Palestinian settled in the United States, helped to launch the International Institute of Islamic Thought, which became an intellectual powerhouse, providing ideas and publications with a global following; a major program was initiated to examine each main academic discipline in the light of the islamization of knowledge (see Abu Sulayman, 1989). Tragically, al-Faruqi, was assassinated in 1986 when the first study of the series appeared. In his Foreword to this study, he defined the endeavor:
This program, conceived and crystallized in a number of symposia on the subject, consists of twelve steps designed to effect the necessary Islamization in the various disciplines of human knowledge. Some of these steps seek to survey and evaluate modern Western accomplishments. Others do the same for the legacy of Muslim learning. The purpose is to reach full mastery of the “state of the art” in each discipline, and to prepare that discipline for re-establishment on Islamic foundations. This implies correction of its prejudices and errors, elimination of its shortcomings, and redress of its methodology and aspirations. (al-Faruqi,, Foreword, in Akbar S. Ahmed, 1987, p. 7).
Al-Faruqi warned Muslims of the need for rigor and integrity in their own work. He did not wish to replace one kind of dogma by another:
Islamization does not mean subordination of any body of knowledge to dogmatic principles or arbitrary objectives, but liberation from such shackles. Islam regards all knowledge as critical; i.e., as universal, necessary and rational. It wants to see every claim pass through the tests of internal coherence, correspondence with reality, and enhancement of human life and morality. Consequently, the Islamized discipline which we hope to reach in the future will turn a new page in the history of the human spirit, and bring it closer to the truth. (Ibid.)
Although the intent of islamization and the political context causing its necessity are clear, the actual method is far from resolved. Critics argue that there can no more be an Islamic science of economics, for example, than a Christian, Hindu, or Buddhist one. Precisely, reply the Muslim scholars, the practice of economics is rarely neutral and never free of a moral position. Clearly, there is a Keynesian economics and a Marxist economics.
Islamic Economics. As Western economists reflect the Western capitalist order within which they develop their ideas and socialist economists the communist one, Islamic economics should reflect the core principles of Islam, thereby influencing the very nature of society. This approach would be a departure for those Muslims influenced by either capitalist or communist models. Muslims would emphasize the Qur’anic notions of al-`adl (balance) and al-ihsan (compassion). Islamic economists would attempt consciously to create a balanced and compassionate society; thus, for example, individual rights to education, health, and social security would be ensured, since they are simply a restoration of the central notions of Islam: the tawhid of God, the organic interconnection of life, its high moral purpose, and so on.
For Muslims the starting point is the central concept of tawhid (God’s unity and sovereignty). That God has made the earth for humanity, hence, the good things it produces are theirs to enjoy, is explicit in the holy Qur’an. Also explicit is humanity’s central role in the universe as khalifah, (God’s viceregent on earth). From this follows the strong moral imperative to care for one another. “Basic needs” (the current development jargon) are recognized as the right of every human being. Basic needs in the Islamic framework include the rights to education and transport, to found a family, and ensuring self-reliance. Conspicuous consumption is strongly discouraged. Both the Qur’an and the life of the Prophet, the two major sources of Islamic life, support austerity. The Prophet’s saying aptly sums up the position: “My poverty is my pride.”
Islamic economics is far from being an intellectual fad or a marginalized eccentricity. It has influenced policy and planning in various countries such as Saudi Arabia and Pakistan, as well as the establishment of university departments to work on numerous economic issues in many Muslim countries; advice has been offered to banking and business concerns. The debate around interest-free banking, that interest itself is haram (prohibited), was stimulated by Islamic economics.
Islamic Anthropology. In my discussion of an Islamic anthropology I pointed out the underlying Islamic principles that needed to be identified (Ahmed, 1987, 1988). Islamic anthropology is ideally placed to assist Islamic endeavor, a view supported by Qur’anic verses and the Prophet’s sayings. The Qur’an tells us: “Say: Travel through the earth and see how God did originate creation” (29.20). Sayings of the Prophet also reflect this sentiment: “Seek knowledge, even unto China.” People are asked to contemplate, to think of and marvel at, the multitudinous variety in the heavens and on earth: “And among His signs is the creation of the heavens and the earth, and the variations in your languages and your colours” (surah 30.22).
Islamic anthropology cannot be a passive or neutral science. It must attempt solutions to the major social problems facing humanity in the late twentieth century: drug abuse, alcoholism, AIDS, famine. The Islamic use of the word jihad, striving to better the world-incorrectly understood in the Western media as religious war-is apt in this context.
Islam not only encourages commitment, it demands it; it not only strives for moral consensus, it insists on emotional loyalty as well. Islamic ideology has much to say about an entire range of social issues, behavior, and organization. Islam has an intrinsic social side; how a Muslim moves from birth to death, through the rites of passage, how a Muslim eats, walks and talks are all suggested in text and tradition. Muslim sociology for Islam is clearly the manifestation of its theology. Al-Faruqi had warned anthropologists:
Anthropology, like all disciplined pursuit of knowledge, must pull itself out of this narrow vision to which it has been confined by the necessities of European history. It should humanize and universalize itself, and stop looking at the people of the world as if they were specimens in a zoo, each specimen carrying its own habits or “culture” as an autonomous end in itself, or as instruments for Western dominion, or as a vacuum to be filled by Western religion, culture and civilization. It should learn anew the simple but primordial truths of all knowledge that are equally the first truths of Islam, namely, that truth is one, just as God is one and as humankind is one. (Ibid., pp. 8-9)
The intent of Islamic anthropology is not to belittle Western anthropology and its achievements or to annul its past; it seeks to create an additional body of knowledge based on scientific and unbiased information, adding to our understanding. People all over the world today are irreversibly bound together through the power of high technology: computers, videocassettes, and satellite television. In this complex world of ours anthropology can assist, in its own low-key but meaningful way, our understanding of each other and the major contemporary problems we face. This task is the relevance of anthropology in today’s world, its special destiny.
However, to validate the assertion that Islamic anthropology is a universal science, Muslim anthropologists first must examine Muslim society from an Islamic perspective and avoid the danger of its idealization, of discussing it as it should be rather than as it is, of whitewashing, of not seeing reality, thereby falling short of accurate analysis. The next challenge is to examine nonMuslim societies. What does Islam have to say about them and what remedies are available to them through the application of Islamic anthropology? Have Muslims themselves solved these problems? These studies must be penetrating and original, for their quality and relevance will determine the importance of Islamic anthropology for non-Muslims.
Future Tasks. Despite the awareness created by the islamization of knowledge exercise, that is, that there are other legitimate ways of examining and confronting knowledge than Western ones, its meaningfulness and permanence will require much work. The label of Islam is no guarantee of islamizing a discipline. There is a danger of reductionism, of rejecting ideas associated with the West as unworthy and unimportant. Indeed, the simplistic understanding of Western economics as amoral and heartless is a dated one. Most economists today are sensitive to humanist welfare and social security considerations in their work.
Perhaps the most serious shortcoming of the quest to islamize the discipline is the failure to establish and develop a wide body of scholarship. There has been excessive reliance on one central intellectual figure at the expense of the development of a school or university; after the death of al-Faruqi, the vigor of the quest declined. Further, the cause of Muslim scholarship has not been assisted by Muslim governments which aid Islamic centers and colleges and then attempt to use them crudely as political platforms for the projection of their rulers or policies. Too often have the noisy politics of Muslim governments been evident in Muslim educational centers, making the independent work of scholars difficult and preventing the growth of a genuine academic environment. Besides, the power of Western scholarship, the lure of Western universities, and the influence of the Western media remain as strong as ever (Ahmed, 1992). The quality of Muslim scholarship and the sophistication of its analysis rather than the zeal of its passion and politics will decide the eventual success and influence of the project of the islamization of knowledge. Until then, it will remain a strong if amorphous idea, challenging both Muslim and non-Muslim scholarship and knowledge.
[See also the biography of Faruqi]
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Abu Sulayman, ‘Abdul Hamid, ed. Islamization of Knowledge: General Principles and Work Plan. 2d ed., revised and expanded. Herndon, Va., 1989.
Ahmad, Khurshid, ed. Studies in Islamic Economics. Jeddah and Leicester, 1981.
Ahmed, Akbar S. Toward Islamic Anthropology: Definition, Dogma, and Directions. Foreword by Ismd’il R. al-Faruqi, Lahore, 1987. Ahmed, Akbar S. Discovering Islam: Making Sense of Muslim History and Society. London, 1988.
Ahmed, Akbar S. Postmodernism and Islam: Predicament and Promise. London, 1992.
‘Ali, `Abdallah Yusuf, trans. The Holy Qur’ dn: Text, Translation, and Commentary. New rev. ed. Brentwood, Md., 1989.
Ashraf, Syed Ali. New Horizons in Muslim Education. Cambridge and London,1985.
Ashraf, Syed Ali, and Syed S. Husain. Crisis in Muslim Education. London,1979.
Ba-Yunus, Ilyas, and Farid Ahmad. Islamic Sociology: An Introduction. Cambridge, 1985.
Siddiqi, Muhammad N. Issues in Islamic Banking: Selected Papers. Leicester, 1983.
AKBAR S. AHMED

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