Çeviri
THE NAQSHBANDIYYA
THE NAQSHBANDIYYA
Orthodoxy and activism in a
worldwide Sufi tradition
Itzchak Weismann
13 Routledge
Taylor & Francis Group
THE NAQSHBANDIYYA
The Naqshbandiyya is one of the most widespread Sufi brotherhoods in the world. Its strength lies in its characteristic combination of strict adherence to the divine law and active involvement in social and political affairs.
The book begins with an examination of the place and unique features of this brotherhood within the larger Sufi movement, and Islam in general. It then traces its historical evolution through three main phases, each dominated by one offshoot: the original Naqshbandiyya of Central Asia, the Mujaddidiyya which sprang from India, and the Khalidiyya, which was formed in the Ottoman lands and reached the remotest corners of the Muslim world – the North Caucuses, Siberia, and Indonesia, as well as Western Europe and North America. The final chapters examine modern Islamic thinkers and movements that had roots in the Naqshbandiyya and the Naqshbandi masters and branches that have adopted new strategies to cope with the challenges of modernity and postmodernity.
This fully illustrated study presents a broad synthesis of the history of the Naqshbandiyya throughout the eight centuries of its existence, and analyses its basic principles and the teachings of its outstanding masters. As such, it will be an indispensable tool for students of Sufi studies, scholars of medieval and modern Islam and the informed public that is interested in the manifestations of Islam beyond its current militant version.
Itzchak Weismann is senior lecturer at the Department of Middle Eastern history, University of Haifa, Israel. His research interests focus on modern Islam, particularly interrelations between Sufism and fundamentalist and radical movements.
ROUTLEDGE SUFI SERIES
General Editor: Ian Richard Netton
Professor of Islamic Studies, University of Exeter
The Routledge Sufi Series provides short introductions to a variety of facets of the subject, which are accessible both to the general reader and the student and scholar in the field. Each book will be either a synthesis of existing knowledge or a distinct contribution to, and extension of, knowledge of the particular topic. The two major underlying principles of the Series are sound scholarship and readability.
PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED BY CURZON
AL-HALLAJ
Herbert I. W. Mason
BEYOND FAITH AND INFEDILITY
The Sufi poetry and teaching of Mahmud Shabistari
Leonard Lewisham
RUZBIHAN BAQLI
Mysticism and the rhetoric of sainthood in Persian Sufism
Carl W. Ernst
ABDULLAH ANSARI OF HERAT
An early Sufi master
A. G. Ravan Farhadi
THE CONCEPT OF SAINTHOOD IN EARLY
ISLAMIC MYSTICISM
Bernd Radtke and John O’Kane
SUHRAWARDI AND THE SCHOOL OF ILLUMINATION
Mehdi Amin Razavi
PERSIAN SUFI POETRY
An introduction to the mystical use of classical poems
J. T. P. de Bruijn
AZIZ NASAFI
Lloyd Ridgeon
SUFIS AND ANTI-SUFIS
The defence, rethinking and rejection of Sufism in the modern world
Elizabeth Sirriyeh
SUFI RITUAL
The parallel universe
Ian Richard Netton
DIVINE LOVE IN ISLAMIC MYSTICISM
The teachings of al-Ghazali and al-Dabbagh
Binyamin Abrahamov
STRIVING FOR DIVINE UNION
Spiritual exercises for Suhrawardi Sufis
Qamar-ul Huda
REVELATION, INTELLECTUAL INTUITION AND
REASON IN THE PHILOSOPHY OF MULLA SADRA
An analysis of the al-hikmah al-‘arshiyyah
Zailan Moris
PUBLISHED BY ROUTLEDGE
- MUSLIM SAINTS OF SOUTH ASIA
The eleventh to fifteenth centuries
Anna Suvorova
- A PSYCHOLOGY OF EARLY SUFI SAMA
Listening and altered states
Kenneth S. Avery
- SUFI VISIONARY OF OTTOMAN DAMASCUS
‘Abd al-Ghani al-Nabulusi, 1941-1731
Elizabeth Sirriyeh
- EARLY MYSTICS IN TURKISH LITERATURE
Mehmed Fuad Koprulu
Translated, Edited and with an Introduction by Gary Leiser and
Robert Dankoff
- INDIAN SUFISM SINCE THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY
Saints, books and empires in the Muslim Deccan
Nile Green
- SUFI CASTIGATOR
Ahmad Kasravi and the Iranian mystical tradition
Lloyd Ridgeon - POPULAR SUFISM IN EASTERN EUROPE
Sufi brotherhoods and the dialogue with Christianity and ‘heterodoxy’
H. T. Norris - THE NAQSHBANDIYYA
Orthodoxy and activism in a worldwide Sufi tradition
Itzchak Weismann
THE NAQSHBANDIYYA
Orthodoxy and activism in a worldwide
Sufi tradition
Itzchak Weismann
LONDON AND NEW YORK
To Michel Chodkiewicz
For a life of Scholarship and Devotion
First published 2007
by Routledge
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Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada
by Routledge
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This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2007.
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© 2007 Itzchak Weismann
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or
reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic,
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invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any
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British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
Weismann, Itzchak.
The Naqshbandiyya : orthodoxy and activism in a worldwide
Sufi tradition / Itzchak Weismann.
p. cm.—(Routledge Sufi series)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
- Naqshabandiyyah—History. 2. Sufism—History. I. Title.
CONTENTS
List of figures viii
List of plates ix
Acknowledgements x
Abbreviations xi
Preface xii
- The core and contours of a Sufi brotherhood 1
- Local beginnings in the oases of inner Asia (thirteenth to
sixteenth centuries) 14
- Consolidation and expansion 34
- Shari‘a and renewal in the great empires (sixteenth to
eighteenth centuries) 49
- Inner rivalries and cooperation 68
- Scholarship and organization into the modern world
(nineteenth century to the present) 85
- The persistence of the older traditions 113
- Modern transformations on the path (seventeenth to
twentieth centuries) 132
- The contemporary situation 147
Notes 172
Bibliography 189
Index 201
FIGURES
1.1 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 3.1 3.2 | The Naqshbandiyya and its offshoots 2 The genealogy of Baha’uddin Naqshband 17 The emergence of the Naqshbandiyya as a collateral line 22 Main links in the proto-Khwajagani genealogical tree 23 The spread of the Naqshbandiyya in central Asia 32 Leading Central Asian Naqshbandis of the sixteenth century 40 Major Naqshbandi lines in Istanbul during the sixteenth century 45 |
4.1 4.2 5.1 5.2 5.3 5.4 6.1 6.2 | The lineages deriving from Baqi Billah 55 The spiritual genealogy of Mazhar Jan-i Janan 64 The Naqshbandiyya in seventeenth-century Haramayn 72 Naqshbandi genealogies in Damascus and Istanbul 74 Major Mujaddidi masters in Transoxiana 80 Inner Naqshbandi divisions in Eastern Turkistan and China 82 Major Mujaddidi and Khalidi influences in Istanbul 92 Principal Naqshbandi masters in nineteenth-century Haramayn 99 |
6.3 7.1 7.2 | The Naqshbandi-Khalidi lineage in the North Caucasus 106 Mujaddidi lineages in Delhi, Rampur, and Hyderabad 115 Naqshbandi trends in Chinese Islam 129 |
PLATES
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The present work rests on the combined efforts of numerous scholars who have dedicated their time and energy to the study of the Naqshbandiyya. No individual can hope to manage on his or her own so vast a subject, or to muster the large number of languages and dialects through which it has been articulated. I owe a debt to them all. Particular thanks are due to some of the leading experts of the brotherhood and of Sufism at large, who read and commented on whole or parts of the manuscript. Foremost among them is Michel Chodkiewicz of L’Ecole des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales in Paris, who supported me through the entire work and shared with me his vast knowledge of the classical Sufi heritage. For the original Naqshban- diyya of Central Asia I consulted Jurgen Paul of the Martin Luther Univer- sitat in Halle-Wittenberg, and on the Khalidiyya in the Ottoman lands Butrus Abu-Manneh of the University of Haifa. Unfortunately I could find no comparable expert on the intermediary phase of the Mujaddidiyya. The ideas contained in the last two chapters on the modern transformations of the Naqshbandiyya are essentially mine. Finally, I would like to thank my wife Gerda for her resourceful help with the tables, Murray Rosovsky for his careful editing of the manuscript, my student Igal Lipsman for preparing the Index, and Routledge for the patience they have shown with this long overdue book.
ABBREVIATIONS
CAC CAS EI2 EIr IJMES JHS JIS MES Naqshbandis | Cahiers d’Asie Centrale Central Asian Survey The Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd edition Encyclopaedia Iranica International Journal of Middle East Studies Journal of the History of Sufism Journal of Islamic Studies Middle Eastern Studies Marc Gaborieau, Alexandre Popovic and Thierry Zarcone (eds.), Naqshbandis: cheminements et situation actuelle d’un ordre mystique musulman (Istanbul and Paris, 1990) |
NWCA | Elisabeth Ozdalga (ed.), Naqshbandis in Western and Central Asia (Istanbul, 1999) |
Rashahat | ‘Ali ibn Husayn al-Wa‘iz al-Kashifi, Rashahat ‘ayn al-hayah, Trans. Muhammad Murad al-Qazani al-Manzilawi, (Mecca, 1890) |
WI ZDMG | Die Welt des Islams Zeitschrift der deutschen morgenlandischen Gesellschaft |
PREFACE
For more than three decades the Naqshbandiyya has attracted considerable scholarly attention, unmatched by any of the other Sufi brotherhoods in Islam. This interest has largely been due to the realization that in the eight centuries or so of its existence masters affiliated with the Naqshbandi tradition, and with its major successive Mujaddidi and Khalidi offshoots, time and again acquired positions of influence with the rulers of the day and within their respective communities. Such outstanding political and social involvement has been employed by scholars not only to discredit the once prevalent view about the decline of latter-day Islam, but also to demonstrate that Sufism played an important role in framing the Muslim world’s response to modernity.
A perusal of the vast literature produced within the Naqshbandi tradition itself reveals that the major preoccupation of its masters was rather to demonstrate the conformity of their mystical teachings and practices to the precepts of Islamic law – the shari‘a. From their point of view, the urge for social and political activism was thus embedded in a general orthodox framework. The basic compatibility of Sufism and orthodoxy was stressed by many a Muslim thinker throughout the ages, not least among them the illustrious eleventh-century mystical theologian Abu Hamid al-Ghazali, while Shadhili, Khalwati, and innumerable other brotherhoods exhibited activist traits in certain periods of their history. None, however, combined and implemented the two tenets in so consistent a way as did the masters of the Naqshbandiyya.
These emphatically orthodox bent and activist thrust were complemented in the Naqshbandi tradition by missionary zeal that resulted in the expansion of the brotherhood out of its original homeland in the Bukhara oasis to ever-more distant lands. The same combination underlies its remarkable adaptability in the contemporary era of globalization, making it a veritable worldwide phenomenon. Today Naqshbandi branches are to be found in most parts of the Muslim world – Central Asia, the Indian subcontinent, the Middle East, the Caucasus, and the Far East, but also in Western Europe and North America.
The academic literature on the Naqshbandiyya is vast and constantly growing. An important landmark in the study of the brotherhood was a round table conference held in Sevres in May 1985, the proceedings of which were subsequently published in a voluminous book. This collection begins with two articles by Hamid Algar, the person who has done more than anyone else to focus our attention on the Naqshbandiyya. The first piece is an overview of the history of the brotherhood; the second piece is an assessment of the work accomplished in Naqshbandi studies up to that point. Algar’s conclusion that much “remains to be filled in the scholarly investigation not only of Sufism but also. . . the history of the numerous lands where the Naqshbandiyya has taken root,” still largely holds today. Yet, thanks to the meticulous studies undertaken by him and numerous other scholars since he penned those words our knowledge of the history and work of different Naqshbandi masters and branches in their respective environments has advanced remarkably. This scholarly endeavor has yielded several books, dozens of dissertations, and literally hundreds of articles dispersed in the professional journals. Twenty years after the Sevres conference it is time to take stock of the new wealth of detail and reformulate in its light our overall picture of the Naqshbandi tradition.
This book is an attempt - informed by the insights I have gained during my own almost two decades’ study of different aspects of the Khalidi offshoot, as well as travels to the Naqshbandi centers in Uzbekistan, India, Turkey, China, and Indonesia - to integrate this large body of research within one analytical narrative. For practical reasons I have confined myself to works in the three major Western languages: English, French, and German, along with fundamental primary sources in Persian and Arabic. Such an enterprise is meant for both the professional scholar, who should benefit from a critical overview of the Naqshbandi tradition to further his/her more specific studies, and for the informed reader who wishes to know Islam beyond its current militant manifestations. To make the text accessible to as wide a readership as possible I have reduced the use of professional terms to the minimum. For instance, I have usually preferred master to shaykh or pir, brotherhood or tradition to tariqa, etc.
Still, the present undertaking is designed neither as a general survey of the history and teachings of the Naqshbandiyya nor as a detailed account of all its masters and lines of transmission in every age and place. More specifically, I wish to avoid the pitfall of a simplistic presentation of the evolution of the brotherhood as the unfolding of some essential characteristics, which too detached a view might engender, but also not to lose sight of its basic identity and continuity by close-ups on its contingent manifestations. Taking a middle course, as it were, this book offers a multi-faceted analysis of the interaction between the evolving trajectory of the Naqshbandi tradition throughout the ages and its spiritual-religious teachings and rites. Readers
seeking to locate specific masters are referred to the diagrams of lineages dispersed through the text.
The main source for the study of the Naqshbandiyya is by far the extremely abundant Naqshbandi literature itself, which bears out its claim to embody the most learned tradition of all Sufi brotherhoods. This literature may be divided into two major categories, though in practice these are often juxtaposed in the same works. One category is the biographical literature, either in the form of collective dictionaries which record the lives, sayings, and miraculous deeds of Naqshbandi masters in different periods and places, or as monographs dedicated to exceptionally outstanding individuals. The other category comprises works dealing with Naqshbandi teachings and practices, including discourses of the great masters as recorded by their disciples, collections of letters, manuals of conduct, polemical expositions and, more recently, pamphlets, cassettes, and websites. These primary sources are supplemented by information gleaned from outside sources such as general biographical dictionaries and scholarly rosters, opponents’ writings, chronicles and material evidence, archival documents, travelers’ accounts, media reports, and personal observations.
This wealth of material allows us to reconstruct in a fairly detailed manner the history and teachings of the Naqshbandiyya. Still, when employing the various sources one must also be aware of their deficiencies. One such deficiency concerns the nature of the Naqshbandi sources on which our investigation so much depends. As part of the Muslim biographical tradition, Naqshbandi authors tend to focus on the “great men” of their brotherhood and to depict them as they ought to have been rather than as they actually were. This “ideal-hero” kind of writing is amplified in the Sufi case, in which the divine wisdom and miraculous deeds of the masters are often brought to the fore at the expense of their daily conduct, social relations, and economic bases. Such biases necessitate a critical reading of the Naqshbandi writings, crosschecked where possible against independent sources to shed additional light on the personalities of the masters, and informed by an interdisciplinary approach to uncover the institutional and popular dimensions within which their activities were conducted.
Another deficiency of our source material is its uneven availability, which creates conspicuous imbalances in our knowledge about the different stages in the evolution of the Naqshbandi tradition. This shortcoming derives not only from the general diminution of information with the regression of time, but also from recent historical circumstances. Research into the original phase of the Naqshbandiyya was seriously impeded by Central Asia’s long subjection to Soviet rule; we are only now beginning to tap into the vast sources collected in libraries, such as the al-Biruni Institute in Tashkent, which became available to scholars after Uzbekistan won independence in 1991. We know more about the second phase of the Naqshbandiyya, which was dominated by the Mujaddidi offshoot of India, though here again
information is rather fragmentary and tends to concentrate on the work of its towering figures, most notably the founder, Ahmad Sirhindi. We are in a far better position to assess the third phase, which followed the establishment of the Khalidiyya in the Ottoman Empire and its Middle Eastern successor states, as well as modern religious movements that sprang out of the Naqshbandiyya.
This book has nine chapters. The opening chapter considers the basic features that have defined Naqshbandi identity and secured its continuity on the one hand, and the place of the brotherhood within the larger Sufi and Islamic traditions on the other. The rest of the book follows a historical scheme. The inner division of the chapters is determined by the relevant branches: the original Naqshbandiyya, the Mujaddidiyya, and the Khalidiyya. The period in which each of the branches was dominant is dealt with by two consecutive chapters. Chapters 2 and 3 study the emergence of the Naqshbandiyya out of the Khwajagan tradition and its consolidation (thirteenth to sixteenth centuries). Chapters 4 and 5 focus on the Mujad- didiyya (sixteenth to eighteenth centuries) and its competition with the original Naqshbandiyya. Chapter 6 is dedicated to the Khalidiyya (nineteenth century to the present), and Chapter 7 examines the continuing evolution of the older branches at the same period. The last two chapters of the book turn to modern Islamic thinkers and movements with roots in the Naqshbandiyya. Chapter 8 discusses early responses from within the brotherhood to the challenge of modernity, while Chapter 9 moves to explore the adaptation of various branches in the contemporary setting. The bibliography presents an attempt to compile an exhaustive list of works on the Naqshbandiyya in the Western languages mentioned above, along with basic Naqshbandi, Mujaddidi, and Khalidi texts that have been consulted for this study.
1
THE CORE AND CONTOURS OF A
SUFI BROTHERHOOD
The origins of the Naqshbandiyya lie in the mystical tradition of the Great Masters – the Khwajagan – which flourished during the thirteenth through sixteenth centuries in the oases of Central Asia. From there it spread westward to Anatolia, eastward to what is now Chinese Turkistan, and southward to the Indian subcontinent. Here at the beginning of the seventeenth century it gave rise to its major offshoot, the Mujaddidiyya, which produced its own missionaries. These carried the message to the Turkish and Arab lands, as well as back to Central Asia. In the early nineteenth century the Khalidi offshoot of the Mujaddidiyya was established in the Ottoman Empire and further extended the geographical boundaries of the brotherhood to such remote areas as the Caucasus and Indonesia, and later to Western Europe and North America. The Naqshbandi tradition looms large at the background of such diverse modern Islamic movements as the Jadidi trend in the Muslim lands under Russian rule, the Ulama Council in colonial and postcolonial India, and the Salvation Party in Turkey.1
Several figures stand out in the vast and ramified Naqshbandi lineage, each epitomizing one phase in its trajectory. The earliest is ‘Abdulkhaliq Ghijduwani, who at the turn of the thirteenth century introduced eight principles and a silent form of dhikr (rite of recollection) into the proto-Naqshbandi trend of the Khwajagan, thereby setting it on a distinct path. Most consequential among these principles in the public arena was khalwat dar anjuman (solitude in the crowd), a paradox implying that the spiritual master should involve himself in the social and political affairs of his community. Next is ‘Ubaydullah Ahrar, with whom in the second half of the fifteenth century the Naqshbandi brotherhood was consolidated and became enmeshed in politics. Ahrar employed especially the spiritual practice of suhba (accompanying the master) to rally his followers around him.
Then, in the seventeenth century, comes the founder of the Mujaddidiyya, Ahmad Sirhindi, who developed the idea of renewal of the millennium (taj- did al-alf) as an intellectual basis for the orthodox and activist proclivities of the brotherhood. Sirhindi’s orthodoxy was epitomized in his assertion that on the Day of Judgment people would be asked about their adherence to the
Figure 1.1 The Naqshbandiyya and its offshoots
shari’a rather than about their mystical affiliation. He was followed in the early nineteenth century by the founder of the Khalidiyya, Khalid al- Shahrizuri (also al-Baghdadi), who sought to galvanize his offshoot into an effective socio-religious movement to implement these tenets through a concentrated form of rabita (binding the heart with the master) and intensive khalwa (seclusion). Modern thinkers with roots in the Naqshbandi tradition include such eminent figures as Shah Waliullah, the hadith scholar of Delhi, Bediuzaman Sa’id Nursi, the modernist philosopher from eastern Turkey, and Muhammad Rashid Rida, the fundamentalist propagandist based in Cairo. These may be regarded as seeking, each in his own peculiar way, to reestablish the balance between the two elements of orthodoxy and activism in the face of the radically altered environment of modernity.
Along with these, many other masters feature in the following pages, from Baha’uddin Naqshband, the eponym of the brotherhood, who added three principles to its spiritual path, to Nazim al-Haqqani, the most active Naqsh- bandi master on the contemporary global scene. Each of these Naqshbandi and Naqshbandi-related masters creatively adapted the tradition he had inherited from his predecessors to the particular circumstances in which he lived and worked: Ghijduwani reacted to the threat posed by the Turkish and Mongol nomads to the sedentary population of the Bukhara oasis; Naqshband sought to renew his legacy once Muslim rule was restored in the region; Ahrar contended with the havoc generated by the rapid disintegration of Timurid rule in central Asia; Sirhindi set out against the syncretistic
religion adopted by the Mughal court in India; Khalid responded to the weakening of the Ottoman government and the rising threat from the West; Waliullah, Nursi, and Rida each stood up to the cultural challenges of modernity as they perceived them; and Haqqani accommodates the Sufi path to the current realities of globalization.
One should never forget, however, that the teachings of these masters could not strike root, nor indeed were they preserved in the collective memory of their communities, without the backing of the innumerable lesser masters and deputies and the multitude of disciples and adherents who throughout the ages recognized and loved them as saints, flocked to their lodges, spread their call far and wide, and thus kept the Naqshbandi tradition alive in their deeds and in their hearts.
The mystical path
The formation, spread, and adaptation of the Naqshbandiyya is part of the larger story of the institutionalization and popularization of the mystical aspect of Islam. The Islamic term denoting a Sufi brotherhood, or any of its offshoots, is tariqa, which literally means path or method. From the earliest days tariqa was the most widely used metaphor for the Sufi quest. It branched off from another path, that of the Law – shari‘a (lit. the way to the water, and by extension the straight path) – and led, by God’s willing, to realization in the Divine or Truth – haqiqa. As an orthodox brotherhood, the Naqshbandiyya emphasizes that the follower of the path must always adhere to the injunctions of the Law and it denounces Sufis who claim to be no longer bound by them since they have reached the goal. The inner relationship between shari‘a, tariqa and haqiqa is vividly expressed by the renowned early nineteenth-century Hanafi jurist Ibn ‘Abidin, who was affiliated to the Khalidi branch of the Naqshbandiyya:
The tariqa and the shari‘a necessitate each other, since the path to God consists of an external aspect and an internal aspect. Its externality is the shari‘a and the tariqa and its internality is the haqiqa. The internality of the haqiqa in the shari‘a and the tariqa is like the internality of butter in milk. It is impossible to reveal the butter in the milk without churning it. The aim of the three – the shari‘a, the tariqa, and the haqiqa – is to fulfill the state of servitude to God.2
In describing their experiences along the path, the early Sufis identified different stations through which they had to pass. These were divided in their expositions into two major types: stages (sing. maqam), like renunciation, poverty, and trust in God, which one reaches and maintains by one’s own strivings, and states (sing. hal), like vision and certainty, which come and go
without control. The last stations on the path are the two complementary states of love (mahabba) and gnosis (ma‘rifa). They lead to annihilation in God (fana’) and subsistence in Him (baqa’) in full realization of the divine unity (tawhid). Intoxicated mystics have always rejoiced in the bliss of the annihilation of their self in the One, while sober mystics like the Naqsh- bandis put the stress on their subsistence in order to return to this world and guide others on the same journey.
The main instrument for advancement on the mystical path is dhikr – the constant recollection of God – founded on Qur’anic injunctions such as this: “O believers, remember God oft, and give Him glory at the dawn and in the evening.”3 Meditation on the One through dhikr is most intense during periods of seclusion (khalwa), when the external senses are shut and the heart is prepared to receive the divine gift. Along with the usual slow and painstaking following of the path (suluk), Sufis recognize the possibility of being suddenly and instantly attracted by God (jadhba).4 As we shall see, in the Naqshbandi tradition seclusion is performed in the crowd and divine attraction precedes the following of the path.
The various features of the Sufi path were consolidated and systematized from the tenth century on, partly in response to the collapse of the central authority of the ‘Abbasid Caliphate and the consequent onset of political insecurity.5 Externalization of the inner experience facilitated the spread of Sufism among the masses and enabled it to provide an alternative basis for social order. One aspect in this development was the urge to demonstrate the fundamental orthodoxy of the Sufi tenets, culminating in the comprehensive work of the celebrated theologian and mystic Ghazali. Such endeavors helped make Sufism acceptable to the religious scholars (‘ulama’) and integrated it into the main body of religious knowledge.6
Another aspect was the elaboration of a theory of sainthood. This postulated a hierarchy of “friends of God” (awliya’, sing. wali), modeled on the example of Prophet Muhammad and topped by the pole of the age (qutb) and “the seal of saints” – the greatest Sufi of all ages. The terminology was introduced into Sufi discourse in the ninth century and was fully elucidated three centuries later by Muhyi al-Din ibn ‘Arabi, the Greatest Master, who claimed the title of seal for himself. Ibn ‘Arabi’s comprehensive synthesis of the mystical sciences of his day was to form the common heritage underlying the distinctive paths of the various Sufi brotherhoods, including the Naqshbandiyya.7 Following him Mevlana Jalal al-Din Rumi, the eponymous founder of the Mevlevi brotherhood (“the whirling dervishes”), gave the Sufi vision a profound poetical expression in his unforgettable couplets.8
Most significant for the formation of the Sufi brotherhoods, however, was the institutionalization of the master–disciple bond. From earliest times Sufis recognized that spiritual aspirants (sing. murid) need an accomplished guide (Ara. murshid, Per. pir) to direct them through the different stations and point out for them the way to union with God. They were also aware of the
dangers of deceit, pride, and self-destruction that threaten to lead followers astray not only from the tariqa but even from the shari‘a, and therefore they attributed absolute authority to the spiritual guide. The central role of the Sufi master in the process was grounded in the Prophetic saying (hadith) that “the shaykh in his group is like the Prophet among his people”; his authority was epitomized in the complementary saying that “the adept to his shaykh is like a corpse in the hands of a corpse-washer.”9 Naqshbandis in particular practice as part of their dhikr a form of concentration on the great masters in their spiritual chain back to the Prophet in order to be blessed by them and to strengthen their souls. This ritual, known as khatm al-khwajagan, includes, according to the early twentieth-century Egyptian-based Naqshbandi master Muhammad Amin al-Kurdi, the following supplication:
Praise be to God, who in the light of His beauty illuminated the hearts of the knowers (‘arifiyin) and in the awe of His majesty burned the heart of the desirers (‘ashiqiyin) and in the subtlety of His providence built the innermost of the attainers (wasiliyin). Prayer and peace be on His best creature, our master Muhammad, and on his family and companions. Oh God, proclaim and bring the reward for what we read and the light of what we recited, after accepting it from us, with grace and beneficence, to the spirit of our master and healer of hearts and delight, the elected Muhammad, and to the spirits of all the prophets and messengers, God’s prayers and peace upon them all, and to the spirits of all masters in the lineages of the exalted brotherhoods. . . especially to the spirit of the great pole and famous authority, the possessor of luminous effluence who formulated this khatm, Mawlana ‘Abd al-Khaliq al-Ghijduwani; and to the spirit of the leader of the path and succor of the universe, the possessor of the flowing effluence and streaming light, the noble master Muhammad known as Shah Naqshband al-Husayni al- Hasani al-Uwaysi al-Bukhari, may God sanctify his lofty innermost; and to the spirit of the pole of saints and proof of the pure ones, the combiner of formal and mental perfections Shaykh ‘Abdallah al-Dihlawi [of the Mujaddidiyya], may God sanctify his lofty innermost; and to the spirit of the traveler in God, the bowing and prostrating, the possessor of the two wings in the inner and outer sciences Diya’ al-Din, our master Shaykh Khalid, may God sanctify his lofty innermost . . .10
Manuals of Sufi conduct which circulated in the tenth and eleventh centuries helped turn the small groups of spiritual masters and disciples hitherto gathering in privacy into more formal associations with wider social appeal. This was followed in the twelfth century by the appearance of Sufi brotherhoods encompassing networks of masters who related to common
eponymous founders.11 The masters of each brotherhood elaborated distinct spiritual methods and disciplinary practices. Many of them set up lodges (sing. Ara. zawiya, Tur. tekke, Per. khanqah) to cater to the spiritual as well as material needs of various levels of society, and they attracted the support of local rulers.12 In the following centuries the influence of organized Sufism increasingly grew, spreading from its initial centers in the cities of Iraq and Persia to all corners of the Muslim world.13 Brotherhoods of various size and appeal – from the local to the global – covered the Muslim world, some of the most widespread and enduring among them being the all-present Qadiriyya, the Shadhiliyya in North and West Africa, the Rifa‘iyya in the eastern Arab world, the Shi‘ite Ni‘matullahiyya in Iran, and the Naqshbandiyya in Central Asia, India, and Turkey.
The orientalist–fundamentalist paradigm in Sufi studies
The wide dissemination and considerable influence that the Naqshbandiyya, and other Sufi brotherhoods, have enjoyed throughout the ages run counter to the still widely held view that following a formative or classical period Islam entered into a prolonged period of decline. This view was advanced within the framework of two distinctly modern paradigms. One is the Orientalist paradigm which, by essentializing Islam as the (inferior) Other, helped justify the Western colonial enterprise and continues to inform Western policy makers and Islamic “experts” today; the other is the Islamic fundamentalist paradigm, which depicts latter-day Muslim tradition as a deviation from the exemplary model of the forefathers and a principal obstacle to the renewal of Islamic vigor in the face of the West and the Westernized Muslims. For A. J. Arberry, a major representative of the Orientalist tradition in Sufi studies, the very emergence of the brotherhoods marked the beginning of the decline of Sufism:
The age of Ibn Farid, Ibn ‘Arabi and Rumi [in the thirteenth century] represents the climax of Sufi achievement, both theoretically and artistically. Thereafter, although through the numerous and ever multiplying Religious Orders the influence of Sufi thought and practice became constantly more widespread, and though sultans and princes did not disdain to lend the movement their patronage and personal adherence . . . the signs of decay appear more and more clearly, and abuse and scandal assail and threaten to destroy its fair reputation.14
The distinct bias in this statement toward the “classical” personal form of Sufi piety and the concomitant downgrading of the social and political import of “post-classical” organized Sufism is reproduced in J. Spencer Trimingham’s Sufi Orders of Islam, the most comprehensive treatment of the
subject to date. Trimingham constructed a tripartite scheme of Sufi historiography, which somewhat delays its perceived era of decline. Consequent to the formative period, he distinguishes between a tariqa phase, when initiatory lines were formed and the authority of the master over his disciples was consolidated, and the ta’ifa phase in which the brotherhoods were fully institutionalized and the master became an object of popular personal cult. The tariqas began to form in the wake of the Sunni triumph over the Shi‘ite dynasties in Baghdad and Cairo during the twelfth century, and their organization was crystallized as ta‘ifas in the fifteenth century, with the growth of Muslim empires in Persia, Anatolia, India, and North Africa. According to Trimingham, in the last phase, which continues to this day,
The orders became hierarchical institutions and their officials approached nearer to a clergy class more than any other in Islam, whilst the zawiya was the equivalent of a local church. The sheikh ceased to teach directly but delegated authority both to teach and initiate to representatives (khulafa’, sing. khalifa). A special cult surrounded the shaykh’s person, associated with the power emanating from the founder-saint of the ta’ifa; he became an intermediary between God and man. If we characterize the first stage, as affecting the individual, as surrender to God, and the second as surrender to rule, then this stage may be described as surrender to a person possessing baraka (spiritual power), though of course embracing the other stages.15
A similar picture of corruption and decline emerges from the writings of Islamic fundamentalists, though obviously for totally different reasons. For ‘Abd al-Rahman al-Kawakibi, an early representative of the Salafi trend in the Arab world, which advocated a return to the example of the pious forefathers of Islam at the expense of latter-day tradition, the various manifestations of Sufism in his day were nothing but deviation and unbelief:
One has no choice but to declare that the state of the great majority of Muslims, except in the Arabian Peninsula, is in every respect similar to the state of unbelievers. . . Some of them have exchanged the idols for tombs. They build over them mosques and shrines, install lights and hang veils, and then circumambulate them, kiss and touch their pillars, shout out the names of those interred in times of distress, and offer sacrifices to others than God . . . Some people assemble to worship God by dhikr, a recollection that is sullied by the singing of songs of praise and excessive veneration of latter-day poets in a way that the Prophet forbade even for his own noble self . . . A group of them were not satisfied with the bright Law and invented injunctions which they called esoteric sciences, the science
of Truth, or the science of Sufism. This is a science that the Prophet’s companions and followers and those living in the early centuries of Islam knew nothing about . . . And among them are people who have turned the religion of God into a plaything. They sing, dance, beat tambourines and drums, wear green and red, play with fire and weapons, scorpions and snakes, and in this way deceive the common people and scare the stupid ones.16
Opposition to the popular aspect of Sufism has never been absent from the Muslim public arena. Its two landmarks in the middle period of Islam were the strictures of the Hanbali theologian Ahmad ibn Taymiyya in the late thirteenth/early fourteenth century, shortly after the formation of the brotherhoods, and the puritan Wahhabi movement of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, when Sufism became almost all-pervasive.17 Criticism of unorthodox practices associated with popular Sufism, however, was mostly articulated from within the Sufi tradition itself, as the case of the Naqshbandiyya amply demonstrates. But Islamic fundamentalists like Kawakibi went far beyond that. Wishing to appropriate the rationalist- scientific discourse of the West, they came to question the central tenets of the Sufi tradition, particularly the esoteric sciences and the master–disciple bond. The most radical among the fundamentalists rejected Sufism in toto as sheer heresy and a foreign import.18
A convenient point to examine the validity of both the Orientalist and fundamentalist paradigms is the period just preceding the advent of modernity. Studies of revival and reform movements in Islam during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries have shown that the ultra-orthodox Wah- habiyya was rather the exception, while the great majority of these movements were actually Sufi. Their activities were known long before Triming- ham, and it has become customary to describe them under the common label of Neo-Sufism. John O. Voll and Nehemia Levtzion included among the characteristic innovations of the pre-modern revival thinkers and movements a new emphasis on the study of hadith, a shift from a pantheistic interpretation of Ibn ‘Arabi’s teaching to a new interest in the transcendental approach of Ghazali, stricter compliance with the precepts of the shari‘a, greater involvement in politics and society, and consolidation of the structural organization of the brotherhoods. Prominent among the pre-modern Sufi brotherhoods were the Khalwatiyya in Egypt, the African brotherhoods that emanated from the Shadhili Sufi scholar Ahmad ibn Idris and, last but not least, the Naqshbandiyya in India and the Ottoman Empire.19
More recent scholarship, informed by the insights of R. S. O’Fahey and Bernd Radtke, has seriously questioned both the common framework and the innovative thrust implied by the term “neo-Sufism.” Basing themselves on evidence from the western Islamic world, O’Fahey and Radtke were only prepared to admit that during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries
there were some “organizational innovations of certain Sufi brotherhoods in specific regions of the Muslim world.”20 Of course, this criticism was in no way meant to diminish the importance of the Sufi aspect of Islam in the premodern period. On the contrary, the thrust of the critics’ argument was that the characteristics attributed to Sufism in that phase – an orthodox bent, veneration of the Prophet, and sociopolitical activism – were eventually part of the rich and variegated Sufi experience also in the previous generations, down to the very formation of the brotherhoods in the twelfth century.
Moreover, it is my contention that Sufism continues to play an important role even in the modern era. The unprecedented challenge of secularized authoritarian state structures, Western-inspired rationalist discourse, and Islamic fundamentalist critique since the second half of the nineteenth century have undoubtedly led to a perceptible decline in the traditional forms of Sufism. Yet by the latter part of the twentieth century it had become clear that many Sufi masters had managed to adapt to the new circumstances, especially by allying with one or another of their adversaries, as well as by skillful use of the modern means of communication. On the other hand, a close examination of modern Islamic movements and thinkers reveals that many of them, Kawakibi included, had roots in the Sufi brotherhoods and appropriated elements from the spiritual and activist Sufi traditions. One thus can chart a spectrum of modern Islamic organizations, spanning from moribund Sufi brotherhoods through adaptive branches and fundamentalist movements that acknowledge their Sufi connection to radical Islamist vanguards that totally reject Sufism. The Naqshbandiyya and its Mujaddidi and Khalidi offshoots have a considerable share in the first three types, and are among the most adamant opponents of the last.21
Naqshbandi identity and continuity
In latter-day Islamic history the signification of the term tariqa was extended from the inner spiritual path or method (suluk), the essence of the Sufi quest, to include the socio-religious organization through which this path was externalized, institutionalized, and popularized. In Western languages this mode of organization is commonly rendered as “Sufi order,” despite the general acknowledgment that the term connotes the Christian monastic orders.22 Such a rendering obscures the nature, and ambiguities, of the internal bonds and external boundaries that together determine the identity of a tariqa on the one hand, and of the ideological mechanisms that define its continuity over time on the other.
To convey these aspects of latter-day Sufism, I prefer to use the two complementary terms of “brotherhood” and “line(age),” which respectively articulate its spatial and temporal dimensions. Brotherhood refers to a group of followers who are united around their master, and by extension with their entire tariqa, but also, in line with the Qur’anic injunction that “The
believers indeed are brothers,”23 with the Muslim community at large. Though admittedly gender-biased, this concept does reflect the dominance of men in organized Sufism while leaving room for less visible sisterhoods. The second term points to the chain of spiritual transmission (silsila) through which such masters are related to their forebears in the tariqa, and also, by its projection back to the Prophet, to the overall Muslim history.
Organized Sufism, it follows, embraces more than the terms “brotherhood” and “lineage” separately would suggest. In its broadest sense tariqa is best rendered as “tradition” which, in agreement with Marilyn Robinson Waldman, I treat “as process – as a modality of change, as a way, but not the way, in which any society can cope with universal problems of human existence, such as legitimacy, authority, and change itself.”24 Dialectically transcending “brotherhood” and “lineage” in space-time, the term “tradition” helps us better to grasp the impact of the various branches of the Naqshbandiyya on the course of Muslim religious and socio-political history in which it was enmeshed, and more clearly to perceive the persistence of Naqshbandi elements among modern post-Naqshbandi thinkers and popular associations.
Two additional remarks concerning the term “tradition” are in place here. First, from my point of view “tradition” and “modernity” not only do not exclude each other, an assertion that has become a platitude in academic circles;25 in the sense I use it to describe the Naqshbandi experience, “tradition” actually encompasses its modern manifestations and transformations. Second, in line with Timothy Mitchell’s observation that “there was no analytic separation in this [pre-modern Islamic] approach between writing and politics, or between theory and practice,”26 I consider the literature produced by members of the Naqshbandi brotherhood a constitutive part of its tradition rather than its mere representation. This amounts to an attempt to follow the “objective” history of the Naqshbandiyya “from within,” as an accumulative “way” of spiritual knowledge and action.
More than any of the other major Sufi brotherhoods in Islam, the identity and continuity of the Naqshbandiyya seem to rest on a firm foundation. At the core of Naqshbandi doctrine and practice lie the eleven principles (kalimat-i qudsiyya, lit. sacred words) attributed to its early founders, ‘Abdulkhaliq Ghijduwani and Baha’uddin Naqshband, and a distinct form of silent dhikr. To these were added during the course of time other “canonized” texts and rituals, particularly the collection of letters (Maktubat) of Ahmad Sirhindi and spiritual practices such as suhba, khalwa and rabita in the specific uses to which they were put by ‘Ubaydullah Ahrar, Khalid al- Shahrizuri, and other lesser figures. Although none of these texts and rituals remained uncontested by rivals or affiliates of the brotherhood, they constituted the discursive field of orthodoxy and activism around which the Naqshbandi tradition revolved.27
This firm foundation ensured that throughout its history, the Mujaddidi
and Khalidi offshoots and their numerous localized branches and subbranches would remain within the overall Naqshbandi fold. These offshoots and branches shared in the Naqshbandi sense of distinction, their leaders often reiterating the postulate that theirs is the shortest way to attain spiritual perfection and the claim to belong to the spiritual chain of Abu Bakr, the immediate heir of the Prophet. Thereby they distinguished themselves from most other Sufi brotherhoods, which consider ‘Ali, Muhammad’s cousin and son-in-law and the fourth Caliph, as the principal transmitter of esoteric knowledge in Islam.28 Of course, one should not infer hence that every single Naqshbandi, by his mere affiliation to the brotherhood, was a living embodiment of orthodoxy and activism. It is my argument, however, that in times of political and social upheaval it was particularly members of the Naqshbandiyya that rose to the task, conceived new ideas for religious reform and renewal, and formed socio-religious revivalist movements to rectify the situation.
Still, as with other Sufi brotherhoods the identity of the Naqshbandiyya is largely imaginary. This is true not merely in Benedict Anderson’s sense concerning the nation, namely that most Naqshbandis “will never know most of their fellow-members, meet them, or even hear of them.”29 No less significant is the fact that the inner cohesion of the Naqshbandiyya has always been weak while its boundaries to other brotherhoods and with the larger Muslim community have never been clearly demarcated. This state of affairs, which is inherent in the loose structure of the tariqa organization in general, is accentuated in the Naqshbandi case by the paradoxical nature of the very principles that define its specific identity.
Within the bounds of the Naqshbandi brotherhood, the activist attitude which the principle of “solitude in the crowd” entails necessitated alertness to prevailing social and political circumstances. As these differed considerably according to place and time, so did the readings and applications of the principle. They ranged from community work in colonial India, for example, through cooperation with governments, either Islamic such as the Hamidian regime in the late Ottoman era or secular like the Ba‘th regime in contemporary Syria, to resistance and rebellion as in the Jihad movements against the Russian conquest of Chechnya or against the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. Factional struggles over leadership and resources in the brotherhood could likewise generate disagreements over doctrinal points or the right course of action. Such were the cases of the conflict between the older Naqshbandiyya and the Mujaddidiyya in the Haramayn in the seventeenth century and of the “old teaching” and “new teaching” factions in the Chinese Naqshbandiyya.
The orthodox stress on the shari‘a could be similarly interpreted in a variety of ways in the overall Muslim space. Some, like ‘Abd al-Rahman Jami in Timurid Herat, stressed the attachment of the Naqshbandiyya to the common orthodox Sufi edifice, normally on the basis of Ibn ‘Arabi’s teaching.
Others, mostly belonging to the ulama class, for example, Ahmad al-Qushashi and Ibrahim al-Kurani in seventeenth-century Medina, joined in the religious scholars’ critique of “unlawful” Sufi practices. On the other hand, in one instance in the second half of the nineteenth century a Mujaddidi lineage from the rural periphery of Lucknow in northern India was passed to the Hindu environment; it has not only survived there to this day, but has also been transplanted into the contemporary globalized scene. Finally, there were those modern Naqshbandis for whom, to some extent or other, the mystical path was superseded by modernist and fundamentalist readings of Islam. Prominent among these are the Nur movement among the Turkish peoples and the Salafis in the Arab world.
In between the overarching Muslim arena and the inner-brotherhood scene(s), the Naqshbandi self-characterization as the shortest path to attain spiritual perfection was likewise translated into various kinds of relationships with other brotherhoods. Depending on real relations of power and influence on the one hand, and on the extent of both sides’ commitment to the orthodox creed on the other, these spanned from hegemony to conflict to cooperation and actual merger. Thus, by the sixteenth century the original Naqshbandiyya was able to incorporate within its fold the other indigenous mystical traditions of Central Asia – the Kubrawiyya and Yasawiyya – as well as some of their rituals.
Less confident in India, from its very inception the Mujaddidiyya juxtaposed itself to the established brotherhoods of the subcontinent – including the popular Chishtiyya – while presenting itself as the most competent to fight Mughal syncretism. The Khalidiyya, during its own initial phase, induced the modernizing Ottoman administration to ban the heterodox Bektashis and close their lodges. Subsequently some Khalidi branches, notably in Kurdistan and Indonesia, sought to bolster their position by aligning with more prestigious Qadiriyya lineages. Among modern Naqshbandi- related movements the entire form of tariqa organization was either relegated to a secondary role or abandoned altogether.
The continuity of the Naqshbandiyya over time may also be taken as largely invented. “Invented tradition” is defined by Hobsbawm and Ranger as “a set of practices, normally governed by overtly or tacitly accepted rules and of a ritual or symbolic nature, which seek to inculcate certain values and norms of behaviour by repetition, which automatically implies continuity with the past.”30 Such practices are evident in the apocryphal projection of the Naqshbandi chain of transmission back to the Prophet, a feature shared by practically all Sufi brotherhoods, as well as in the peculiar occurrence of loopholes in the proto-Naqshbandi chain, which are portrayed as special cases of “spiritual transmission.”
Far beyond that, however, “invention” is a constant feature of the Naqshbandi tradition. It may be gauged from the wide gap between the linear presentation of the trajectory of the brotherhood as it appears in its
genealogical tree (shajara) and its actual history, which has been checkered by recurrent conflicts over leadership and material resources and over teachings and rituals. The Sufi silsila, not unlike the chains of transmission of the hadith on which it was ultimately modeled, was devised to bridge such discontinuities. They allow succeeding masters to shape and reshape their ancestry in line with the requirement of legitimacy (isnad), as well as to discredit rival masters. Such a construction was again especially potent in the Naqshbandi brotherhood, in which every modification on the path was measured against its foundational basis.
Accordingly, there is no indication in the Naqshbandi chain of transmission of the successive establishment of the Mujaddidi and Khalidi offshoots. Also overlooked are more subtle changes in the modalities of the transmission itself. A turning point in this respect was reached in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, when hereditary succession, a common custom among most Sufi brotherhoods but explicitly denounced by the founders of the Naqshbandiyya, was now accepted as the rule. This development was paralleled by the emergence of the lodge as the locus of Naqshbandi spiritual life, a practice that likewise had been proscribed in the early days of the brotherhood. Both modifications reflected transformations in the wider world of organized Sufism during this period, most notably the spread of the custom to augment multiple chains of transmission as a source of enhanced spiritual prestige. Another turning point was reached in the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries when those Naqshbandi masters who abandoned the tariqa form of organization were also ready to do away with their lineage in favor of new modes of legitimacy such as rationalist discourse, state backing, or populist appeal.
The picture of the Naqshbandiyya that thus emerges is of a fairly loose network of masters and disciples in their lodges, who share a set of foundational principles and practices while constantly modifying and reinterpreting them according to changing circumstance and personal preference. Such a flexible and open-ended structure, which informs both ritual and modes of organization, allows not only wide divergence within the system, but also spilling over to the broader environment. Thus, the silent form of dhikr, generally recognized as the mainstay of the Naqshbandi ritual, was often accompanied by vocal forms of recollection, while in more recent times it sometimes came to resemble a religious lesson or preaching, as I witnessed in the Ismail Agha mosque in Istanbul. Similarly, exceptionally charismatic masters were able hierarchically to structure their tariqa and provide it with considerable economic and political leverage. As the case of the Hindu Mujaddidi branch in India and the quietist approach of numerous Naqshbandi branches all over the Muslim world indicate, such flexibility and open-endedness do not exclude even the two central pillars of the Naqshbandi tradition, its orthodoxy and its activism.
2
LOCAL BEGINNINGS IN THE OASES
OF INNER ASIA (THIRTEENTH TO
SIXTEENTH CENTURIES)
The Naqshbandiyya derives its name from Baha’uddin Naqshband, the epithet of the fourteenth-century spiritual master Muhammad al-Uwaysi of Bukhara. It is a combination of the Persian words naqsh and band, meaning impressing the divine name Allah and fixing it to the heart. Like in many other Sufi brotherhoods, though, it was the disciples of the eponym, foremost among them the charismatic ‘Ala’uddin ‘Attar and the scholarly Muhammad Parsa, and to some extent, the younger Ya‘qub Charkhi, who actually laid the foundations of the new path while evoking the name of the master as a source of legitimization.
The Naqshbandiyya traces its beginnings farther back to the Khwajagan, the spiritual masters of Central Asia, and is embedded in their tradition. The legendary founder of this tradition at the turn of the thirteenth century was ‘Abdulkhaliq from the small town of Ghijduwan in the Bukhara oasis. To Ghijduwani were attributed the introduction of a silent form of dhikr and the formulation of eight principles (kalimat-i qudsiyya), which specified the character and spiritual methods of his lineage as against the incipient Yasawiyya brotherhood and in opposition to the organizational forms that Central Asian Sufism was then taking in general. Ghijduwani as well as Ahmad Yasawi are described in the Naqshbandi sources as disciples of Yusuf al-Hamadani, the first khwaja in their chain of transmission. The links chosen for this apocryphal chain going back to the Prophet Muhammad, and the relations between them, symbolize the particular traits of the Khwajagan-Naqshbandi spiritual path.
Under Chaghatay Mongol rule (thirteenth to mid-fourteenth century) the Khwajagan came to represent a low-profile widely diffused current comprising a multiplicity of local groups engaging in divergent practices and rituals. Some of them survived to as late as the sixteenth century. One group was the line of Khwaja Baha’uddin, who after the restoration of Muslim rule in Bukhara evoked by way of “spiritual transmission” the legacy of Ghijduwani while supplementing it with three principles of his own. During the time of his disciples, coinciding with the reign of Timur
Lang (1370–1405) and his successors, the Khwajagan-Naqshbandiyya spread to other urban centers of Transoxiana, where it appealed primarily to the culturally Iranian (Tajik) artisans. In the following generation it established a presence in the major Timurid cities of Balkh and especially the capital Herat. In the second half of the fifteenth century ‘Ubaydullah Ahrar gave the Naqshbandiyya a more solid organizational shape from his base in Samarqand, while the scholarly literati ‘Abdurrahman Jami and ‘Ali Shir Nava’i thrived in Herat under the wing of the court.
Scholarly research on the Central Asian Naqshbandiyya has surged since the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1989. Special efforts have been exerted since then by numerous scholars to locate, catalogue and publish original manuscripts, most notably biographies of Baha’uddin Naqshaband and the works of Muhammad Parsa. Most of these manuscripts are deposited in the al-Biruni Institute in Tashkent, Uzbekistan. This endeavor, along with the original researches conducted on the basis of the rediscovered sources, actually amount to a dismantling of the ideological edifice of the “official” Naqshbandi chain of transmission to make way for a more critical assessment of the role of the brotherhood in Transoxianan politics and society of the thirteenth to sixteenth centuries.
The formation of a tradition
Although constructed by disciples and followers, the biography of Baha’uddin Naqshaband1 shows few spiritual feats of note; nor did he leave behind writings that may reveal any special teachings or a systematic path. Born in 1318 in the village of Qasr Hinduwan (later renamed Qasr ‘Arifan) close by Bukhara, Baha’uddin Muhammad is said to have been adopted as an infant by Khwaja Muhammad Sammasi, who then assigned his future spiritual training to his principal deputy, Khwaja Amir Kulal. Along with this tutor, his immediate predecessor in the Naqshbandi lineage with whom he is said to have spent many years, Baha’uddin attended other spiritual masters, both Khwajagan and Turkish Yasawis. Among the latter was a certain Khalil Ata, allegedly the ruler of Bukhara, under whom, according to one anecdote, Baha’uddin served as executioner. After Khalil’s fall Baha’uddin began cultivating his own circle of disciples. Thereafter he left his native place twice to perform the hajj, and then only once more to journey to Herat, where he had an audience with the ruler. Baha’uddin died in 1389 and was buried in Qasr ‘Arifan. Later he was made the virtual patron saint of Bukhara, and in the sixteenth century his tomb became a center of pilgrimage for Muslims from Central Asia and beyond.
The unique feature in the biography of Baha’uddin Naqshband, and the key to understanding his position as the eponym of the Naqshbandi lineage, lay in his symbolic relation to the founder of the Khwajagan tradition, ‘Abdulkhaliq Ghijduwani, from whom he was separated by five links. It is
Plate 2.1 Popular practices at Baha’uddin Naqshband’s shrine in Qasr ‘Arifan, Bukhara
told that during his discipleship to Kulal, Baha’uddin had a vision of the “spirituality” of Ghijduwani, who urged him strictly to follow the shari‘a and instructed him in the method of the silent dhikr. Hence his epithet al- Uwaysi, namely a Sufi “who has attained illumination outside the regular mystical path and without the mediation and guidance of a living shaykh.”2 Following this vision, Baha’uddin added three principles of his own to the eight of the great master, all relating to the dhikr.3 Still, despite the resentment of other disciples, he did not leave the circle of Amir Kulal, who was actually present in his vision and even helped him interpret it, but only absented himself whenever the vocal dhikr was practiced. Kulal, for his part, is said by the Naqshbandi sources to have continued to hold his disciple in high esteem and ultimately to free him to pursue other masters:
He [Amir Kulal] pointed to his noble chest and said: I have emptied the breasts of gnosis (‘irfan) for you so that the bird of your spirituality was delivered from the egg of humanity. But, the falcon of your aspiration (himma) is flying high. Therefore I give you now the permission to wander around in the land, and if the smell of gnosis reaches your nose from a Turk or a Tajik, seek it from him.4
This account is paradoxical in two complementary respects. On the one hand, as graphically illustrated in Figure 2.1, it presents Baha’uddin
Figure 2.1 The genealogy of Baha’uddin Naqshband
Naqshband in an ambivalent position regarding the Khwajagan tradition, as he continued the line of his forebears yet broke away from them in favor of the “original” path. On the other hand, the “spiritual” initiation resulted in a spell away from the Khwajagan tradition in a “free” search for spiritual enlightenment. These paradoxes should be set against the wider political and social developments of Baha’uddin’s time, which witnessed the collapse of the Chaghatay state and the renewal of Muslim rule in Transoxiana and Khurasan. The Khwajagan masters, whose activity had been repressed under the Mongols, could now reassert their spiritual eminence, while the more ambitious among them were seeking to further remold the tradition in accordance with the new opportunities offered by the Timurid government. Such reformist traditionalism was expressed in the portrayal of Baha’uddin as “spiritually initiated” by Ghijduwani, in his implied, though reverent, criticism of the intervening Khwajagan, in his reexamination of the current
practices among the existing traditions, and finally, in the practical innovations he introduced; all these made him the eponym of the Khwajagani path of revival that came to be known after him as the Naqshbandiyya.
The choice of Baha’uddin Naqshband as the epitome of revival within the broader Khwajagan tradition was essentially the achievement of the following generation of his disciples. The leading figures in this group were ‘Ala’uddin ‘Attar (d. 1400), Baha’uddin’s charismatic son-in-law who was recognized as his successor, and Muhammad Parsa (d. 1420), an outstanding religious scholar who provided the intellectual foundation of the new movement, along with Ya‘qub Charkhi (d. 1447), a noted alim and mystic in his own right. The Naqshbandi sources are somewhat ambiguous about relations between the three masters, who parted company after Baha’uddin’s death, each forming his own circle of disciples. It is particularly evident that Parsa was more important than later Naqshbandi tradition would admit, not only because he too was favored by the master but also because he remained in Bukhara while the others had to establish themselves elsewhere. Be that as it may, Parsa and ‘Attar clearly complemented each other in their work of formulating the new tradition. Still, though less impressive than both, it was ultimately Charkhi who came to be regarded as the most important link in the “official” Naqshbandi genealogy, being the spiritual master of Ahrar.5
Shams al-Din Muhammad al-Hafizi, nicknamed Parsa (the pious one),6 was the founder of the literary tradition of the Naqshbandiyya. Scion of a renowned family of Hanafi ulama of Bukhara, he assembled the sayings of the master in his Risala-i qudsiyya (The Treatise of Saintliness) and, perhaps at the instigation of ‘Attar, wrote the first hagiography of Baha’uddin, Anis al-talibin wa-‘uddat al-salikin (The Companion of the Seekers and Provider of the Followers). No less important were Parsa’s doctrinal works, foremost among them Fasl al-khitab li-wasl al-albab (The Conclusive Judgment in Uniting the Hearts) in which, as its title indicates, he sought to smooth frictions in matters of doctrine and practice through a general mystical synthesis. In this and other works, Parsa also introduced in Central Asia the legacy of the great classical Sufis as well as the teachings of Ibn ‘Arabi, and linked the Naqshbandiyya with the mystical traditions of Baghdad and Khurasan. Though shunning politics, he is reported to have sent letters to the Timurid Sultan Shahrukh (1405–1447) on behalf of the Muslim population of the capital Herat. Muhammad Parsa’s contribution to the reform of the wider intellectual life of Bukhara becomes clear from the investigation of the “Library of Khwaja Parsa,” a family establishment that he augmented with his rich private collection and which survived into the nineteenth century as the public library of Bukhara.7
The more practical Muhammad ‘Ala’uddin ‘Attar was mostly responsible for the perpetuation of the new path of the Naqshbandiyya. Son of a migrant from Khwarazm, the young ‘Attar led a severe and ascetic way of life that greatly impressed Baha’uddin, who offered him his daughter’s hand
in marriage. Following the path under his father-in-law’s guidance, he swiftly rose to the position of chief disciple and was assigned the training of the less advanced adepts. On Baha’uddin’s death ‘Attar was recognized as his successor by all other disciples, including Parsa. This may have been due to his considerable yet sober spiritual powers, as well as to Parsa’s dislike of friction. Before proceeding with our historical narration, however, it is necessary to examine the Khwajagan setting of the early Naqshbandis and the major mystical ideas and practices that emerged from it.
The Khwajagan setting
Among the settled populations of Central Asia, the term khwajagan originally referred to the upper stratum of Turkish nobles and sayyid families (those claiming descent from the Prophet) in general. Only during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries did khwaja come to denote exclusively a man of religion, primarily of the mystical type. The later usage, however, was already in vogue in what has sometimes been described as the proto- Naqshbandi phase, the period that stretched from ‘Abdulkhaliq Ghijduwani, the legendary founder of the Khwajagan tradition, to Baha’uddin Naqshband. In Central Asia the spiritual descendants of Baha’uddin continued to be described as khwajagan long after his death, retaining the designation even after Ahrar gave the brotherhood a more distinct structure. It was probably among the latter’s followers in the Iranian and Turkish realms that the term Naqshbandiyya had gradually taken root before it was carried back to Transoxiana in the sixteenth century.8
It is not easy to separate the factual details in the biography of ‘Abdulkha- liq Ghijduwani from the legends that surround the circumstances of his founding the Khwajagan path. There is some ambiguity even about his lifespan: he died either in 1179 or 1220, though it seems certain that he spent most of his life in the small town of Ghijduwan, some 50 kilometers northeast of Bukhara. According to the Rashahat,
He received the silent recollection (al-dhikr al-qalbi) in his youth from al-Khidr, peace be upon him, and persisted with the said recollection. Al-Khidr accepted him as a son and commanded him to become absorbed in it and to say in his heart under the water “there is no god but God and Muhammad is the messenger of God.” The Khwaja did it. He learned this from him and engaged himself with this there, until all sorts of openings and elevations occurred to him beyond the perception of discernment. The manner of his engagement, his goal, and his utmost perfection were acceptable and desirable from beginning to end among all people. When Khwaja Yusuf al-Hamadani, his secret be hallowed, arrived in Bukhara, Khwaja ‘Abdulkhaliq came to visit him and, as he learned that he too is
engaged in the silent dhikr, he benefited from his company (suhba) and attended him during his stay in Bukhara. Therefore it is said that al-Khidr, peace be upon him, was his master in instruction and inspiration while Khwaja Yusuf was his master in accompaniment.9
About his work it is related, for example, that it was al-Khidr, the mysterious patron saint and initiator of travelers,10 who instructed him in the method of the silent dhikr. As Algar maintains, the eight principles that Ghijduwani subsequently bequeathed to the brotherhood, if their attribution to him is indeed correct, should be regarded as a general statement characteristic of Central Asian Sufism of his day, rather than as a defined doctrine. Centuries later, Jami would declare that the point of his work was to urge people to follow the Sunna and refrain from unlawful deviations (bid‘a).11 The Naqshbandi genealogy describes Ghijduwani as one of four successors of Hamadani (d. 1140), the first spiritual master to whom it accorded the title of khwaja.
Of the three other alleged successors the most important was Ahmad al- Yasawi (d. 1167), eponym of the Yasawiyya brotherhood, from which later also sprang the Bektashiyya.12 It is often claimed that there was a division of interests between the lines of these two masters, Ghijduwani’s followers working mostly in the urban centers in which the Iranian culture was dominant, while those of Yasawi addressed the Turkic elements in the steppe. It is also generally recognized that such a distinction cannot be carried too far; we
Plate 2.2 ‘Abdulkhaliq’s tomb, Ghijduwan
have seen that even in the case of Baha’uddin Naqshband Turkish teachers were no less conspicuous in his education than cultural Iranian ones. This may testify to a measure of amiable cooperation as well as a growing tension between the two groups, a duality symbolized in the genealogically constructed positions of Yasawi and Ghijduwani as successors of the same master but originators of distinct ways. Devin DeWeese tends to stress the conflictual aspect in the relationship. In his view, from its very beginning the Khwajagan Naqshbandiyya was a Sufi “reformist” current which, partly to distinguish and legitimize itself, expressed criticism of “popular” practices of established Central Asian Sufism, in which the Yasawiyya naturally had a part.13
Moreover, contrary to the linear presentation of the “official” Naqshbandi lineage, it seems more appropriate to treat the Khwajagan from Ghijduwani onwards as a diffuse current, “a bundle or cluster of interrelated local and regional traditions.” These traditions were embodied in what Jurgen Paul has defined as “collateral lines,” each featuring a distinct ancestry and differentiating itself by certain practices. Some of the groupings claimed descent from Ghijduwani, while others referred to other “founders”, for example, ‘Abdallah Baraki and Hasan Andaki, the two remaining successors of Hamadani, or to various communal figures. Khwajagan groupings formed and disbanded in quick succession in the Bukhara oasis during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, consonant with the fortunes of the masters. Furthermore, the status of each khwaja was less secure than was customary among the Sufi brotherhoods: his disciples were always free to leave for another master or even to follow the path on their own, while he lost all authority over them when they completed their training. Conducting a spiritual center (khanqah) was also frowned upon.
This was essentially the situation of Baha’uddin Naqshband in Qasr ‘Arifan. He was one among several Khwajagan working in the city of Bukhara, while other masters were active in the surrounding villages. Among the latter was the Kulali group, which referred to his erstwhile preceptor, Amir Kulal. According to the latter’s hagiography, it was his son Hamza rather than Baha’uddin who was recognized as successor. The two contenders may thus be regarded as the founders of two collateral lines, whose chief difference was the form of dhikr they practiced.14
The volatility of the Khwajagan current was exacerbated by the destruction of Bukhara by the Mongols, who stormed Central Asia in 1220, the year of Ghijduwani’s death, or perhaps a generation after him. The havoc resulted in the weakening of the “learned” brand of Islam in the cities of the oasis, but also in the flourishing of the more popular forms of Sufism in the small towns and villages. This situation seems to have affected the Khwajagan themselves, who abandoned most of Ghijduwani’s principles. In the early fourteenth century ‘Ali ‘Azizan-i Ramitani, the link immediately preceding Sammasi in the proto-Naqshbandi lineage, left Bukhara and established himself in the neighboring region of Khwarazm. With Baba
Figure 2.2 The emergence of the Naqshbandiyya as a collateral line
Sammasi, and following him Amir Kulal, the center of activity of this line returned to the Bukhara countryside where, in opposition to the prevalent popular practices, they appealed to the more articulate artisans of Iranian stock.15 Following the reinstitution of Muslim rule in Central Asia by the Timurids, Baha’uddin Naqshband, and still more his disciples, re-established the “reformist” tradition of the Khwajagan in the city of Bukhara, before their successors carried it farther, to Herat and Samarqand.
The proto-Khwajagani lineage
Forging a silsila is a never-ending project, which masters of every generation “imagine” according to their particular tradition, outlook, and need of legitimacy. The process begins with the very formation of the brotherhood and may cease only if it disappears from the scene. As with the hadith literature, however, legitimization requires that the chain of transmission stretch back from the founder(s) to the model of all correct Muslim belief and practice, the Prophet Muhammad. In the case of the Khwajagan-Naqshbandiyya, the backward projection of the chain of transmission was gradual. The initial phase discussed above was the work of Baha’uddin’s disciples, the actual founders of the Naqshbandiyya brotherhood, who extended their lineage back from their master to Ghijduwani, the alleged originator of the Khwajagan current. Their successors, whose efforts were consolidated in the Rashahat, continued the construction from Ghijduwani all the way back to Muhammad. Though obviously spurious, the proto-Khwajagani chain of initiation (as represented in Figure 2.4) is revealing in two major respects. First, through the symbolic value of the specific figures chosen as its links, it represents the basic ideology of the early Naqshbandiyya; second, taken as a whole the peculiarities of the chain of transmission point to the complex and often contradictory historical process through which it was constituted.
Contrary to the established convention, the proto-Khwajagani lineage actually has three distinct chains of transmission rather than one.16 This multiplicity of lineages, which supplied Naqshbandi masters with a measure of freedom of choice, may reflect either the manifold character of the
The first chain (Golden)
The second chain
The third chain
Figure 2.3 Main links in the proto-Khwajagani genealogical tree
Khwajagan current or successive strands in its evolution. Two of the chains conform to most other brotherhoods in going back to the Prophet through ‘Ali ibn Abi Talib, his cousin and fourth Caliph to whom, according to Sufi tradition, he transmitted esoteric wisdom. The first chain, generally referred to as the Golden Chain, then passes from ‘Ali’s son Husayn through to the eighth Imam, ‘Ali al-Rida, before converging with the second chain in Ma‘ruf al-Karkhi, a leading Sufi of the early Baghdad school.17 The other ‘Alid lineage reaches Karkhi through Hasan al-Basri, “the archetype proto-Sufi,” and his followers in Basra and Kufa.18 This double ascription
enhanced Naqshbandi legitimization by combining the prestige of the Prophet’s family with that of the precursors of the Sufi trend. It may also reflect the fuzzy boundaries between the Sunni and Shi‘i creeds before the rise of the Safavids in Iran made the Naqshbandiyya hostile to Shi‘ism.
In the third proto-Khwajagani lineage the first link after the Prophet is Abu Bakr al-Siddiq, the first Caliph. The selection of the immediate political, and arguably spiritual, successor of Muhammad implied not merely a sense of distinction but eventually a claim of precedence over the other Sufi brotherhoods, which normally boast an ‘Alid ancestry. The Bakri line both underlies the strict Sunni orthodox attitude that the Naqshbandiyya had espoused from its very beginning and reinforced its rejection of Shi‘ism. Finally, in the Qur’anic story of the Prophet’s hiding with a companion, generally recognized as Abu Bakr, in a cave during their flight from Mecca to Medina (hijra), the Naqshbandis find the legitimacy for the silent form of dhikr which set them apart from all other brotherhoods. The next link in this line is Salman al-Farisi, who signifies the connection between the Iranian and Arab worlds, and who in addition is regarded as the patron saint of small artisans, the original mainstay of the Khwajagan in the Bukhara oasis, and of the common people at large.19 Perhaps to retain some of the prestige deriving from the Prophet’s family, the Bakri line also incorporates the sixth Imam, Ja‘far al-Sadiq.
The next links in the proto-Khwajagani genealogical tree show a clear rupture between the united ‘Alid line and the parallel Bakri line. The first passes through leading figures in the Baghdad school of the ninth and tenth centuries, in which classical Sufism was consolidated, including the towering figure of al-Junayd, the master of sobriety who features in most Sufi lineages. The latter line, by contrast, leaps by way of “spiritual initiation” to Bayazid al-Bistami, the ninth-century archetype of spiritual intoxication, and from him to the illiterate eleventh-century Abu al-Hasan al-Kharaqani. So by a kind of inversion it was now the ‘Alid line that came to represent the Sunni orthodox strain of the Khwajagan-Naqshbandiyya, while the Bakri line expresses its mystical feats. The Uwaysi type of “spiritual transmission” of Bistami and Kharaqani served to vindicate Baha’uddin’s claim to have been initiated by the “spirituality” of Ghijduwani, as well as his wider doctrine that a Sufi can awaken the “spiritual presence” of a deceased master by directing himself to him (tawajjuh). This doctrine allowed Baha’uddin to relate himself to yet another important Sufi who had been obliterated from the lineage system, al-Hakim al-Tirmidhi (d. ca. 908), one of the early exponents of the theory of sainthood.20
More important still, Bistami, and probably Kharaqani as well, were outstanding representatives of the Malamati tradition which had been in vogue in Khurasan. The Malamatiyya, which traced its origins to Abu Bakr and Salman al-Farisi, advised its adherents to conceal their piety and behave outwardly in a way that invited blame (malama) to ensure their sincerity.21 It
seems, therefore, that not only did the Khwajagan-Naqshbandiyya appropriate a Malamati genealogical tree, but also that it might have owed to this trend the paradoxical character of its own basic tenets: the silent form of dhikr and the cardinal principles of traveling in the home (safar dar watan) and solitude in the crowd (khalwat dar anjuman), as well as its initial propensity to mistrust miraculous deeds and avoid wearing distinctive garb or living in hospices.22 The Malamatis’ reference to the Qura’nic verse (24, 37) “men whom neither commerce nor trafficking diverts from the remembrance of God” must have resonated through the urban circles in Bukhara, especially those of the bazaar.23
All three proto-Khwajagani lines finally converged in Abu ‘Ali al-Farmadi, a seminal figure in the formation of early organized Sufism. Farmadi studied with Abu al-Qasim al-Qushayri (d. 1074), author of the widely read Risala fi ‘ilm al-tasawwuf, and taught the noted Sufi scholar Abu Hamid al-Ghazali (d. 1111), as well as his younger brother Ahmad (d. 1126) from whom several Sufi lineages were to be derived.24 In the Naqshbandi genealogy he is the immediate link before Yusuf al-Hamadani, whom Ghi- jduwani claimed as his own spiritual master. According to the version attributed to the latter Hamadani, a descendent of Abu Hanifa, kept a spiritual connection with his Sufi teacher even after his death and at his instigation moved from Iran to Samarqand. Here, not without the intervention of al-Khidr, he was joined by Ghijduwani and his other three deputies. Madelung is certainly right in maintaining that this biography is “simple and pure fiction,” since Ghijduwani probably had never met Hamadani and the latter was actually a Shafi‘i.25 Yet it was exactly the “invention” of Hamadani, and through him the entire lineage, that heralded the emergence of the new path of the Khwajagan. Through the constructed master the paradoxical intoxication of the Malamati tradition could be joined to the sobriety of the Junaydi line within a more profoundly orthodox mystical synthesis. The legitimacy of the Khwajagan was then sealed by embedding the new synthesis in the native Hanafism of Transoxiana.
The foundational base
The constitutive event of the Naqshbandiyya brotherhood was Baha’uddin Naqshband’s adoption of the silent dhikr from the “spirituality” of ‘Abdulkhaliq Ghijduwani. This led to his refusal to take part in the sessions of vocal dhikr performed by his master, Amir Kulal, and consequently to the establishment of his own distinct group. The vocal dhikr (public recollection – dhikr jahri, uttered by the tongue – dhikr al-lisan) is the common practice among the Sufi brotherhoods, and normally includes mystical music and dance. By Baha’uddin’s time it had become the prevalent practice also among the Khwajagan, despite their ascription to Ghijduwani. The reintroduction of the vocal dhikr was attributed to Mahmud Anjir Faghnawi,
Plate 2.3 Abu al-Hasan al-Kharaqani’s mosque in Kars
the link preceding ‘Ali ‘Aziz al-Ramitani in the proto-Naqhshbandi chain of transmission (see Figure 2.1). To silence critics Faghnawi maintained that his master, ‘Arif Riwgari, who was a direct disciple of Ghijduwani, had condoned the practice before his death, “in order to call people to God.”26 The deviation was challenged by other disciples of Ghijduwani under the leadership of Awliya’-yi Kabir, in a controversy that had clear social undertones, as Awliya’ and his followers lived in the city of Bukhara whereas Faghnawi was based in the countryside. It continued unabated down to Baha’uddin’s time, opinions ranging from permitting performance of the vocal dhikr under restrictive terms to total disregard of the silent dhikr.
Following Baha’uddin, the silent dhikr (hidden recollection – dhikr khafi, whispered in the heart – dhikr al-qalb) became the dominant practice in the Naqshbandiyya, a distinguishing feature of its overall orthodox and sober character. This, however, did not prevent practical disagreements among successive Naqshbandi masters, particularly about the attitude to be taken toward the vocal dhikr. The debate started already with Baha’uddin’s learned disciples, Muhammad Parsa and Ya‘qub Charkhi. Parsa, in line with his general “ecumenical” approach, made way for the vocal dhikr besides the more elevated silent one.27 He described it as appropriate for beginners, who should internalize it while advancing on the path. On the other hand, Parsa stressed that the vocal dhikr must not be performed as a means to gain fame or material benefits, as probably was often the case. Charkhi took a more radical approach, rejecting the vocal dhikr altogether. He claimed that Baha’uddin proscribed it and that it has no basis in the Qur’an and the Sunna. This position was to receive the sanction of his influential disciple Ahrar.28
Along with the silent dhikr, Baha’uddin also accepted Ghijduwani’s set of eight principles that broadly defined the spiritual path of the Khwajagan, supplementing them with three principles of his own. The eleven “sacred words” (kalimat-i qudsiyya) basically refer to the mystical exercises of the brotherhood, although some of them bear broader social and political repercussions. The eleven principles are as follows:
- Yad kard – recollection
- Baz gasht – return
- Nigah dasht – watchfulness
- Yad dasht – remembrance
- Hosh dar dam – awareness in breathing
- Nazar bar qadam – watching the steps
- Safar dar watan – travelling in the home
- khalwat dar anjuman – solitude in the crowd
- wuquf-i zamani – awareness of time
- wuquf-i ‘adadi – awareness of multiplicity
- wuquf-i qalbi – awareness of the heart
This set of principles represents four layers in the formation of the Naqshbandi ideology. The first four principles refer to the foundations of the dhikr, which the Naqshbandiyya shares with all other Sufi brotherhoods. According to the nineteenth-century Damascene Muhammad al-Khani, they include the constant recollection of the unitary formula “There is no god but God”; returning to consciousness through phrases such as “My God, Thou art my goal and Thy satisfaction is my desire”; watching over the heart against distracting thoughts; and remembering which signifies the ever presence of the heart with God. Then come two principles – awareness in breathing and keeping watch on the steps – which allude to an Indian influence on the Naqshbandiyya.29 Khani explains them as the means to keep the heart from distraction when, respectively, the breath enters the body and the eyes look at the world.30
The next group of two principles – traveling in the home and solitude in the crowd – are the most consequential in terms of their contribution to the social and political evolution of the Naqshbandiyya. Both reveal a sense of mystical superiority and are paradoxical in nature, a fact that betrays their Malamati origin.31 The latter of the two in particular is emphasized in the Rashahat: “Khwaja Baha’uddin Naqshbandi was asked: on what is your way founded? He said in his reply: on this phrase, namely solitude in the crowd, which means to be outwardly with the creatures and inwardly with the Creator . . . God’s word [in the Qur’an]: men whom neither commerce nor trafficking diverts them from remembrance of God, indicates to this state.”32 This principle is opposed to another common Sufi practice, the seclusion (khalwa) of the adept in an isolated place in order to conquer the lower soul (nafs) and ward off worldly thoughts, which the Naqshbandiyya describes as befitting weak souls. Conversely, seclusion in the crowd enabled craftsmen and traders, the mainstay of the early Naqshbandiyya, to join the brotherhood without giving up their occupation. Finally, the principles of safar dar watan and khalwat dar anjuman could be interpreted as encouraging Naqshbandis to be involved in the world as part of their mystical vocation.
The final three principles, those attributed to Baha’uddin himself, were designed to increase the dhikr performer’s awareness of himself, of the world around him, and of the constant presence of God. Practically they entail a daily moral self-examination, which emphasized the orthodox character of the brotherhood; keeping account of the number of utterances of the unitary formula, which helps to control the breath and is usually done by using beads; and, most importantly, permanent concentration on the movements of the heart to ensure its purity and permanent attention to God:33
Awareness of the heart (wuquf qalbi) has two meanings. One of them is that the heart of the recollecting be present with the Lord (al- Haqq) be He praised and exalted; in this meaning it is like yad dasht
(remembrance) . . . The second is that the recollecting be aware to his heart, namely that during the dhikr he be directed toward the piece of flesh of pineal shape which is figuratively called the heart and is situated in the left side parallel to the left breast, causing it to be engaged in dhikr and not leave it neglectful and oblivious to its meaning.34
As against seclusion, and therefore as a practical application of the two principles of traveling in the home and solitude in the crowd, the Naqsh- bandiyya preferred the method of suhba, accompanying a perfect master. Through companionship the master could not only teach his disciples but also convey to them directly his spiritual qualities and attributes. Suhba is described in the Naqshbandi sources as the most elevated and effective method to reach God. Along with it, the founders of the Naqshbandi tradition introduced the complementary method of rabita, which has received a great deal of scholarly attention, including a full-length treatise by Meier, primarily because of the central place it later came to hold in the Khalidiyya. Literally meaning binding, rabita refers to the technique of keeping the image of the perfect master in the disciple’s heart, whether he is present or absent. As Chodkiewicz explains, it is reciprocated by the practice of tawajjuh, which requires the master to direct his heart toward the disciple. Forming a bond of love, the often interchangeable concepts of rabita and tawajjuh point to the intermediary position of the master, whose image is likened to a mirror reflecting the Prophet and serves as the conduit to the effusion of Divine lights.35 On the practical level they allowed charismatic masters to increase their influence over their disciples and to expand the sphere of their spiritual authority, while leaving them time for other pursuits. Rabita had been first adopted by ‘Attar and passed through Charkhi to Ahrar.36 It was also given a collective form in khatm al-Khwajagan, the concluding prayer of the dhikr, in which the links of the Naqshbandi lineage, from the immediate master to the Prophet, are enumerated and blessed.37
The incorporation of these mystical practices within the new synthesis of the Naqshbandiyya brotherhood was accompanied right from the start by an “intellectual” streak. This was primarily the achievement of Muhammad Parsa, who, through his writings, introduced into the Khwajagan tradition numerous classical Sufi authors such as Ghazali, Qushayri, and Hujwiri. Above all, he proved an ardent follower of al-Shaykh al-Akbar Ibn ‘Arabi, although, perhaps to avoid the polemics raging around his teachings, he hardly mentioned him by name. Parsa assiduously studied the works of Ibn ‘Arabi – a commentary on the most controversial among them, Fusus al- hikam (The Bezels of Wisdom) is attributed to him – and fully espoused the central concept associated with him, wahdat al-wujud (the unity of being), seeing no contradiction between this principle and strict adherence to the
example of the Prophet and to the shari‘a.38 Undoubtedly he drew inspiration from the Greatest Master’s comprehensive theosophical enterprise for his own endeavor to integrate the major orthodox mystical traditions and practices of Central Asia within the Khwajagan-Naqshbandiyya.
Among Parsa’s peers ‘Attar seems to have adopted a reverential attitude toward Ibn ‘Arabi, whereas Charkhi was more interested in the ideas expressed in the mystical poetry of Rumi. Ahrar, for his part, was well acquainted with Ibn ‘Arabi’s teaching, though he held that its secrets were dangerous and should not be divulged to the uninitiated. A somewhat contrary approach was taken by Jami, the foremost representative of the Ibn ‘Arabi school among the early Naqshbandiyya. Jami dedicated many of his works to explaining the teachings of the Greatest Master and took an active part in the debates they sparked in Herat. His poetry was particularly effective in diffusing Ibn ‘Arabi’s theosophical concepts in the Iranian world, but also in Central Asia, the Ottoman Empire, and India.39
As befitting a living mystical tradition, none of the foundational principles and practices of the Naqshbandiyya were fixed and unequivocal. The threefold structure of its lineage, the relation between the silent and vocal forms of dhikr, the four deposits of its “sacred words,” and the alternatives of suhba and rabita gave Naqshbandi masters throughout the ages considerable freedom to dismantle and rebuild its path according to the needs of their personality, place, and time. Thus, emphasizing its ‘Alid lineages, incorporation of the vocal dhikr, and a preference for principles such as yad kard and nigah dasht would demonstrate the common ground between the Naqsh- bandiyya and other Sufi brotherhoods. By contrast, dwelling on the Bakri lineage, exclusive use of the silent dhikr, and emphasis on the Malamati principles of safar dar watan and khalwat dar anjuman implied a reformist attitude, which might be directed against more popular brotherhoods, but also against a deviant state. In times of total crisis they could also occasionally lead to the opposite attitude of antinomian drifting away from society. Together, these foundational principles and practices formed the discursive field within which, and at times against which, Naqshbandi history was to revolve.
Dissemination in central Asia
The emergence of the Naqshbandiyya also marked the spread of the Khwa- jagan tradition beyond Bukhara. This expansion too was attributed to Baha’uddin Naqshband, who is reported to have won disciples in Khurasan on his way to the hajj. It began in earnest, however, with ‘Ala’uddin ‘Attar, his foremost deputy, who for unspecified reasons moved to the region of Chaghaniyan, today’s Denau in south Uzbekistan, where he died a decade after the master. He left behind ten successors, among them his son, Baha’uddin’s grandson, Hasan-i ‘Attar, the celebrated theologian Sayyid
Sharif al-Jurjani, and Nizamuddin Khamush, whose line led to the Naqshbandi circle of Herat.40 ‘Attar’s departure from Bukhara was followed by that of Ya‘qub Charkhi, who wandered farther east, to the mountainous regions between Badakhshan and Hisar (in today’s northeast Afghanistan and Tajikistan respectively).
In the next generation, when family succession crept into Naqshbandi practice, the brotherhood reached the major cities of the Timurid state. Parsa’s son Abu al-Nasr left Bukhara to settle in Balkh (north Afghanistan), where for generations his descendents held the paramount position of Shaykhulislam. Abu al-Nasr is said to have “exaggerated in concealing his path to such a degree that no one knew that he belonged to the people of this way.”41 ‘Attar’s son Hasan moved to the capital Herat, “where he distinguished himself in the quality of his spiritual effluence (tasarruf) in all the lands of Transoxiana and Khurasan. Everyone who came to kiss his hand and foot became absent from himself.”42
Herat in the fifteenth century became a major center of religion and culture under the patronage of the court. As implied in reference to the city in the biographies of both Baha’uddin and Muhammad Parsa, it had acquired a special attraction for the Naqshbandis at the first half of that century, not least due to the clash with the less than orthodox governor of Transoxiana, Ulugh Beg. Still, the brotherhood established itself firmly in Herat only after the arrival on the scene of Sa‘duddin Kashghari, the charismatic disciple of Khamush, whose influence superseded that of ‘Attar’s direct descendents and other Naqshbandi masters already present in the city.43
The son of an itinerant merchant from Kashghar, Sa‘duddin completed his religious studies before going to Bukhara in search of an appropriate spiritual master. He spent several years with Nizamuddin Khamush, and then set out for the hajj, but apparently stopped on the way and settled in Herat. He took up residence near the central mosque and soon attracted a large following, including members of the cultural and literary elite of the city, as well as artisans of lower strata. Several of Sa‘duddin’s discourses were recorded in the Rashahat, showing him familiar with the terminology of Ibn ‘Arabi. Otherwise, he was described as being in a near-constant state of ecstatic rapture which, apparently like his master Khamush (the silent one), caused him to fall in silence. After his death in 1456, Sa‘duddin Kashghari’s tomb acquired great sanctity; it was rebuilt in the eighteenth century by Ahmad Shah Durrani, founder of the modern Afghan state.44
The absence of detailed research on the cultural milieu of Herat in the second half of the fifteenth century makes it difficult to gauge what exactly attracted figures of the caliber of ‘Abdurrahman Jami (1414–1492) to Kash- ghari. There is no doubt, however, that Jami was deeply devoted to his master, as is testified in the pages he allotted him in his celebrated hagiographical collection Nafahat al-uns (Breaths of Intimacy), which includes an important
Figure 2.4 The spread of the Naqshbandiyya in central Asia
account of the early Naqshbandiyya, as well as in his profuse poetry. This is what he has to say about their first encounter:
The first time that I came to the service of our master Sa‘duddin in the congregational mosque, I sat at his feet. As was his habit, he was repeatedly absent [in God], and I thought he was sleepy. I said: If you take rest for a moment it will be better. He smiled and said: Don’t you think that I have any business other than sleeping?45
Kashghari was also responsible for the initiation into the brotherhood of ‘Ali Shir Nava’i (1441–1501), the famous Timurid minister who is considered the virtual founder of Chagathay Turkish literature. Under Nava’i’s auspices the Naqshbandiyya was granted rich endowments (awqaf ) and its influence reached the ruler. The Naqshbandi affiliation by no means exhausted Jami’s religious and poetic activity, which included Qur’an exegesis, hadith studies, and commentaries on Sufi works, particularly those of the Ibn ‘Arabi school. On Kashghari’s death ‘Abdurrahman Jami declined to take on the leadership, a step which may have contributed to the fading out of this Naqshbandi line.46 The task of consolidating the brotherhood within the general Khwajagan tradition fell to his contemporary and colleague in Samarqand, ‘Ubaydullah Ahrar.
3
CONSOLIDATION AND EXPANSION
With Nasir al-Din ‘Ubaydullah Ahrar, commonly revered as Hazrat Ishan, the formative phase of the Naqshbandiyya brotherhood reached a critical edge. Under him, most though by no means all Naqshbandi groups of Central Asia were brought together within a well-organized interregional network, and he was also the first to send emissaries outside Transoxiana. Ahrar’s role as a spiritual master was closely connected to his ramified socioeconomic activity and his political involvement, which became a model for the public application of the principle of solitude in the crowd. Both his Sufi and his worldly activities placed a fresh accent on the supremacy of the shari‘a, and more still on the duty of spiritual masters to strive to secure its implementation by rulers. Though Ahrar’s enterprise seemed to falter after his death, it prepared the ground for the dominant position that the Naqshbandiyya was to acquire in Central Asian Sufism in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, as well as for the spread of the brotherhood to other parts of the Muslim world.
Ahrar’s legacy was perpetuated in the sixteenth century, now under Uzbek rule, by two major lineages. One lineage returned to Ahmad Kasani of Dahbid near Samarqand, better known as Makhdum-i A‘zam (the greatest master), the other to his disciple, Muhammad Islam al-Juybari back in the Bukhara region. The Juybaris regained and even surpassed the economic and political leverage of their illustrious ancestor, while rival lines of Makh- dumzades (descendants of Makhdum-i A‘zam) vied for power in eastern Turkistan until the Chinese conquest in the mid-eighteenth century. On the other hand, many lesser Naqshbandi lineages were influenced by other Sufi traditions, notably the Yasawiyya and even the Qalandariyya, a generic name for groups of wandering dervishes who defied all social and religious authority. It is a sign of the hegemonic position won by the Ahrari line in Central Asia that what we know of such groups, which normally also practiced the vocal dhikr, comes mainly from other lands they roamed: Turkey, India, or China.
The “official” history of the Khwajagan-Naqshbandiyya was also formulated toward the end of the fifteenth century and in the early sixteenth,
setting its seal on Ahrar’s project of consolidation. The tone was given by some of his disciples, especially ‘Ali ibn Husayn al-Wa’iz al-Kashifi of Herat in his celebrated Rashahat ‘ayn al-hayat (Drops from the Fountain of Life) and Muhammad Qazi, his most renowned successor in Transoxiana, in Silsilat al-‘Arifin (The Chain of Spiritual Masters). In the Rashahat the master’s hagiography is preceded by a lengthy introduction, actually more than half of the book, which presents the Naqshbandi chain of transmission teleologically, leading first to Baha’uddin Naqshband and then to ‘Ubaydul- lah Ahrar. Such a linear presentation tended, on one hand, to obscure the relations between the early Naqshbandiyya and other Khwajagan groups, and on the other hand, to highlight within the Naqshbandi lineage the direct forebears of Ahrar, leaving collateral lines in the shadow. Silsilat al-‘Arifin is more focused on the sayings and deeds of Ahrar himself.
Khwaja ‘Ubaydullah Ahrar
‘Ubaydullah Ahrar (1404-1490)1 was born into a wealthy family from the vicinity of Tashkent. At the age of twenty-two he was sent to study in a religious college in Samarqand, but soon he interrupted his studies, a first indication of a lifelong aversion to scholarly knowledge. Instead he chose to pursue Sufism, first in Samarqand and later on in Herat. Ahrar attended several spiritual masters until finally in Chaghaniyan he met Ya‘qub Charkhi, who initiated him into the Naqshbandiyya. During this period he also visited Husamuddin Parsa, then leader of the Bukharan Naqshbandis. It is also related that Ahrar lived as a poor Sufi, but that he received the favors of the Timurid Sultan Shahrukh too. On his return to Tashkent in 1431, in apparent contradiction to his previous pursuits, Ahrar engaged in agriculture. Building on the capital he seems to have inherited from his family, he amassed a large amount of property in the regions of Samarqand and Tashkent and also became involved in trade. At the same time he gathered around him a circle of disciples, thereby arousing the animosity of masters from other brotherhoods who felt threatened by his increasing power and popularity.
Ahrar’s engagement in politics began at a later stage of his life, in the context of the power struggles that threatened to break up the Timurid state after the death of Shahrukh in 1447. At least in the initial phase, his involvement appears to have been at least partially motivated by the wish to defend his economic assets against the depredations and extortions of the military commanders (amirs), who dominated the political scene at the expense of the weakening Timurid princelings. During this time Ahrar transformed the Naqshbandiyya into the nucleus of what Jurgen Paul has defined as a faction (ta’ifa) - a system of patronage and protection - around which his agricultural and commercial activities were organized. His faction, which was clearly distinct from other factions and groups, comprised peasants,
craftsmen, and traders who were ready to work for him in exchange for protection (himaya) of their interests, along with his Sufi adepts. As against the amirs’ “Mongol” methods of government and taxation, Ahrar began to emphasize the duty incumbent upon rulers to base their government on the precepts of the shari‘a.2
The first recorded political move of Ahrar was his attempt in 1450 to approach the governor of Samarqand and urge him to follow Islamic law. Failing to receive an audience, he lent his support to the religiously minded Timurid Abu Sa‘id, who took control of the city in 1451 and established himself as Sultan. This is how the Rashahat depicts the encounter between the two:
One day he [the master] asked for a pen and inkwell and wrote the names of people on a piece of paper. In the course of this he wrote the name of Sultan Abu Sa‘id and put it in his headgear (‘amama) above his head, although the emblem of Sultan Abu Sa‘id has not yet appeared at that time and nobody heard about him. When asked. . . he said: this is the name of a person that we and you and the people of Tashkent, Samarqand and Khurasan will all be among his subjects. Some days later the roar of Sultan Abu Sa‘id rouse from Turkistan, while before that the mentioned Sultan saw in his dream that our noble master read the prayer ( fatiha) on his behalf at the indication of Khwaja Ahmad Yasawi [whose line was dominant among the Turks]. . . When the eyes of the Sultan fell on him [Ahrar] he became confused and said: by God, this is the master whom I saw in my dream. He threw himself at his feet and showed him humility and respect. Following that a lofty friendship (suhba) was contracted between him and our noble master.
Thereafter many troops gathered around him, and the idea came to his mind to conquer Samarqand. He came to our noble master and said: I aim at Samarqand, please turn your thought [to it]. Our noble master asked: for what purpose you aim at it? If your purpose is the fortification of the shari‘a and compassion toward the subjects, your purpose is blessed and your conquest and victory assured.3
At Abu Sa‘id’s instigation, ‘Ubaydullah Ahrar then moved from Tashkent to Samarqand, henceforth the center of his political, economic, and spiritual enterprises. Ahrar’s influence on the Timurid court and the ruling circles derived both from his spiritual status as a shari‘a-bound charismatic Sufi master and from his standing and wealth as head of a faction. He became adviser to Abu Sa‘id, and even more markedly to his son and successor Sultan Ahmad, who ascended the throne in 1468. At the same time, the fiscal privileges Ahrar was granted allowed him to augment his wealth and purchase a vast amount of land holdings all over Central Asia, though he
forwent grants from the rulers in order to keep his independence. Many of his assets were converted into waqf endowments, which Ahrar continued to administer himself. The patronage system established by Ahrar also facilitated the expansion of the spiritual network that he built from his shrine on the outskirts of Samarqand. Special ties were developed with the Naqshbandis of the Timurid capital Herat. Neither the worldly nor the religious aspects of Ahrar’s activity went unchallenged.
There is a marked difference between the perception of Ahrar’s influence on Central Asian politics in the second half of the fifteenth century in the Timurid chronicles and in the Naqshbandi hagiographies. The latter, as in the above quotation, portray Ahrar as the central character, who through his spiritual powers and miracles shapes the events of the time; in the former he is placed in the shadow of the actual rulers.4 Be that as it may, under the increasingly enfeebled Timurid state, Ahrar, at the head of his faction, wielded considerable political power. The mission he undertook was to protect what may be construed as the civil society of his day. His political objective was accordingly twofold: to prevent warfare among the various Timurid contenders and to remove the Turko-Mongol system of taxation imposed by their amirs. Both objectives involved a role of mediation, either between the feuding rulers or between the population and the ruling elite at large. To the first belonged Ahrar’s efforts to avert a siege on Samarqand in 1454 and to bring to an end a rebellion against Abu Sa‘id in 1461–1463. Ahrar had no objection to Abu Sa‘id’s initiative to wage a campaign in
Plate 3.1 ‘Ubaydullah Ahrar’s tomb, Samarqand
Persia, which actually ended in the latter’s death in 1469, but he exerted much effort to negotiate a treaty between his sons after him. Ahrar’s second type of political activity is represented by his success in 1460 in persuading the Timurid ruler, who had meanwhile moved to Herat, to rescind the infamous market tax (tamgha). In other cases, particularly in his hometown Tashkent, Ahrar paid excessive taxes out of his own purse to relieve the burden on the populace.5
Less studied is the opposition which Ahrar encountered on the part of the religious estate in Samarqand. This encompassed both fellow Sufi masters, especially of the ‘Ishqiyya brotherhood, and ulama under the leadership of the city’s Chief Jurisconsult. Part of the opposition must have derived from the envy awakened by Ahrar’s extensive economic base and wide political influence, and from the doubts they cast on the sincerity of his religious motivation.6 The Rashahat presents this envy, and the brutal punishment it entailed, as examples of the spiritual powers of the master,
At that time there was in Tashkent a master who was followed in these regions. He was knowledgeable in the external sciences and in the Sufi sciences and he had innumerable disciples, so that he authorized fifty of his companions to guide. When he saw that our noble master began to attract the capable he became jealous. One day he came to his [Ahrar’s] assembly . . . to show his power and overcome him. He sat with his face toward our noble master, fixing his eyes on him and directing all his intention (himma) toward him to put a burden on the noble master. Our noble master . . . after a second raised his blessed head and took his hand from his sleeve. In his hands was a kerchief, with which he stroked on his face saying: how can I sit with a crazy deranged man that nothing of his knowledge remained in his mind . . . When he rose up the [other] master shouted gruesomely and fell unconscious . . . On the next day a melancholic disturbance afflicted his mind to the degree that he forgot all his knowledge, and he began wandering about naked in the alleys and markets oblivious to the need to protect and cover his body.7
One day the noble master [Ahrar] was mentioned in the assembly of Khwaja Mawlana [the Chief religious scholar of Samarqand]. This said in violation of all etiquette: leave this dung beetle, which has no goal but to amass worldly possessions. When the master was told about these words he said: he will die like a dung beetle . . . Khwaja Mawlana came to Herat as he could no longer stay in Samarqand. The great ones of Herat came to visit him once or twice and saw him in an extremely confused and absent-minded state . . . In his last days he became sick and used laxatives for this sickness. I sometimes came to him during his sickness and saw him sitting in his filth and squalor . . . and so he died.8
Yet religious hostility toward Ahrar was grounded in more profound factors touching upon the very character of the Naqshbandiyya. Notwithstanding their common ground in the teaching of Ibn ‘Arabi, for the Sufi masters Ahrar was not only a threatening rival in the competition for disciples, but also the most powerful representative of a “reformist” tradition that challenged their spiritual beliefs and practices. The use of the complementary techniques of suhba and rabita, along with the silent form of dhikr in the spiritual center that he established in the vicinity of Samarqand, were a constant reminder of this critical attitude.
Similarly, underlying the resistance of the ulama to Ahrar, despite his professed orthodoxy, was not only the scholar’s suspicion of the mystic quest but also a different approach toward the shari‘a. For the ulama the discovery and formulation of the divine will was an ongoing professional project, on which their religious authority was ultimately based. Ahrar, by contrast, regarded the shari‘a as a general concept to be applied in the socioeconomic and political fields against rival systems of law. His pretensions to reach a qadi’s verdict without having any formal training served only to irritate the religious establishment. The ability of Ahrar’s successors to soften such animosities by a more inclusive approach enabled the Naqshbandiyya to occupy in later Muslim history a special position as a bridge between the Sufis and the ulama.
Revival and universalization of the path
Following the death of ‘Ubaydullah Ahrar in 1490 the empire that he had built threatened to fall apart. The underlying reasons were the difficulty to fill the void left by so dominant a personality, the usual struggles over the leadership among successors, the sheer vastness of his enterprise and the enormous wealth that was at stake, and the changes wrought on the political situation in Central Asia by the establishment of Shaybanid Uzbek rule at the turn of the sixteenth century. Friction was apparent already during Ahrar’s lifetime, as his two sons vied for his spiritual and material inheritance. The fortunes of the family were eclipsed when, following the conquest of Samarqand, Shaybani Khan (1501–1510) had the younger brother Yahya killed for his role in organizing the resistance and confiscated his assets. The subsequent division of the Shaybanid domain among rival branches of the clan further hampered the integrity of the Naqshbandiyya. With its masters seeking the patronage of various contenders, not only did their fate and activity become subject to the political vagaries of the time, they were also often pitted one against the other.
Still, the continuity of Ahrar’s project was secured, albeit with significant modifications, through the work of two remarkable masters who lived in the first half of the sixteenth century. These were Muhammad Qazi (d. 1515), Ahrar’s disciple in Tashkent who steered the Naqshbandiyya in the stormy
period of transition from Timurid to Shaybanid rule, and even more his deputy, Ahmad Kasani of Dahbid near Samarqand, better known as Makhdum-i A‘zam (d. 1542), who combined large political influence with an impressive scholarly endeavor to adjust its doctrines to the new circumstances. These two masters departed from the path of Ahrar in adopting an inclusive attitude toward other mystical traditions. They also gave “official” approval to the principle of family succession which, although frequently used in practice, had been frowned upon in the early Khwajagan tradition. These innovations helped consolidate the Naqshbandiyya and paved the way for the position of dominance it would acquire in Central Asian Sufism in the following centuries.
After Ahmad Kasani’s death a serious split with both doctrinal and geographical dimensions affected the ranks of the Naqshbandiyya. The protagonists were two of the major disciples of Kasani, Muhammad Islam Juybari of Bukhara (d. 1563) and Lutfullah Chusti (d. 1571), who established himself in Tashkent. Both circumvented Kasani’s own designated heir, his eldest son Muhammad Amin, who, it was claimed, had passed the leadership to either of them. Juybari concentrated on Ahrar’s economic and political legacy, and founded a Naqshbandi dynasty whose economic interests surpassed even those of the great master. He was less interested in expanding the brotherhood and adopted a lenient attitude toward other brotherhoods. The Juybaris continued to thrive under the Astrakhanid dynasty well into the seventeenth century. Lutfullah Chusti, for his part, strove to return to Ahrar’s original spiritual mission, and was active in propagating the Naqshbandiyya in the eastern part of Transoxiana at the expense of the Kubrawiyya and Yasawiyya brotherhoods. He cherished spiritual rather than physical descendents.
Figure 3.1 Leading Central Asian Naqshbandis of the sixteenth century
The Shaybanids were well aware of the social and political influence exerted by the Naqshbandiyya. Shaybani Khan studied the religious sciences for two years in Bukhara, and was said to have paid a visit to Baha’uddin’s shrine in Qasr ‘Arifan before leaving for Turkistan, from where he began his march on Transoxiana. While in the city, he seems to have forged contacts with descendents of Muhammad Parsa, one of whom later headed the delegation of city notables that offered its capitulation to the Shaybanid army. In Samarqand, by contrast, Ahrar’s elder son ‘Abdallah chose to flee, whereas the younger Yahya stayed to organize the defense of the city. Following its surrender he was ordered to set out for the hajj, but was murdered together with his sons on the way and his vast property was confiscated; it was returned to the family only in the 1540s. Shaybani Khan’s representative in the negotiations during the siege of Samarqand was another disciple of Ahrar, who was rewarded with the post of shaykhulislam of the city.9
Most important for the perpetuation of Ahrar’s legacy in this period of transition was Muhammad Qazi, whom we have met as the master’s biographer. Scion of an ulama family from Samarqand, Qazi began his spiritual pursuit in the ‘Ishqiyya brotherhood and joined Ahrar relatively late, around 1480. Initially critical of the presence of rulers and high officials in the master’s mystic sessions, he soon changed his mind and became a major aide in the political field. Qazi’s swift rise to a position of prominence aroused the jealousy of the veteran disciples, which forced him to leave for a while and stay with Jami in Herat. After Ahrar’s death he settled in Tashkent, where he renewed his political contacts while frequently traveling to the Ferghana valley to guide disciples and settle disputes. Being denounced by his Naqshbandi peers for introducing a forty-day fast, which Ahrar had explicitly forbidden, Qazi maintained, in a much more significant departure from the master’s way, that the Khwajagan tradition was universal and included practices of all mystical traditions. Qazi was unable to prevent the Shaybanid conquest of Tashkent in 1503, so he astutely opted for the new political masters and agreed to accompany them in their campaign against Bukhara. For the next six years he strove to spread his brand of the Naqshbandiyya in that city, but apparently with less success. In his final years he returned to Andijan in the Ferghana, where his sons continued his work after him.10
Muhammad Qazi’s efforts were consolidated by his faithful deputy, Ahmad Kasani (Makhdum-i A‘zam). Although apparently the most outstanding figure in the Central Asian Naqshbandiyya after Ahrar, there is still no detailed study in any western language of his several biographies or of the thirty or so treatises in which he expounded his teachings. Born into a celebrated Sayyid family from Kasan in the district of Andijan, Ahmad acquired a profound religious education before joining Qazi’s circle. He accompanied his master on his travels but when, not unlike Qazi, he felt animosity on the part of other disciples, he asked his permission to retire to his hometown,
then in Moghul hands. Kasani took part in the defense of the Ferghana valley against Shaybanid attack in 1510, but later fell foul of the Moghuls and accepted the patronage of their rivals. Following the death of Qazi in 1515, he was able to secure his position as head of the Naqshbandiyya in the Ferghana. Some time in the 1520s, at the invitation of the local ruler, Kasani moved to Dahbid, where he established a religious-economic center known as karkhane-i khwajagan (the Masters’ factory). Not unlike Ahrar’s enterprise, this allowed Makhdum-i A'zam to play a conspicuous political role vis-a-vis the vying Shaybanid princelings and to patronize the lower strata of society.11
Ahmad Kasani combined this worldly activity with extensive writing on the affairs of the brotherhood in which, in the footsteps of his master, he advocated not only political involvement for the implementation of the sha- ri‘a, but also the idea of the universality of the Naqshbandiyya. This was based on the claim that saints belonging to various traditions chose their path according to the particular circumstances of their time and place, and that only those familiar with all paths may attain perfection. The practice of the vocal dhikr in the Khwajagan tradition before Baha’uddin, and even of its special version of dhikr-i arra (recollection that sounds like sawing) which was introduced by Ahmad Yasawi in his brotherhood, are cases in point. Kasani also stressed the duty of the Naqshbandi masters to keep solidarity among themselves and to spread the tradition wherever they could.12
With Muhammad Islam Juybari and Lutfullah Chusti the difficulties of
Plate 3.2 Makhdum-i A'zam’s shrine in Dahbid
maintaining a balance between the spiritual and worldly aspects of the Naqshbandiyya, which ultimately derive from the paradoxical principle of solitude in the crowd, came to the fore. Juybari embraced the Naqshbandiyya under the inspiration of Muhammad Qazi during the latter’s stay in Bukhara, and then joined most other disciples in accepting Kasani’s authority. Gradually he became part of the master’s inner circle, and subsequently, at the end of a fierce succession struggle, he won the recognition of most other disciples.
Establishing himself in Bukhara, Juybari used his family connections to purchase vast landholdings and became involved in local politics. Unlike Ahrar however, his position was maintained at the cost of dependence on the rulers, particularly ‘Abdallah Khan who took over Bukhara in 1557 and reunited the Shaybanid domains.13 With his consent, Juybari acquired a sayyid status for his family and his own nomination as naqib al-ashraf (doyen of the Prophet’s descendents). His followers came mostly from the Bukhara military and religious elites, while the protection of the lower strata was largely abandoned. Moreover, under the guise of the Malamati doctrine, Juybari neglected his duties as a spiritual guide, and made no effort to propagate the brotherhood outside his region. Yet, owing primarily to the political nexus, Juybari was the founder of a Sufi dynasty from which in the following centuries most influential Naqshbandi groups of Central Asia would arise.14
An essentially opposite direction was taken by Lutfullah Chusti, who strove to preserve Ahrar’s legacy in the eastern part of Transoxiana. Like Juybari, Chusti was a disciple of both Muhammad Qazi and Makhdum-i A‘zam. Following the latter’s death he moved to Tashkent, turning it into a base for propagating the path in his native Ferghana and in Hisar. Chusti’s method was to send deputies to these regions with authorization to guide disciples on their own. These activities were carried out in strong competition with other Sufi brotherhoods, particularly the Kubrawiyya, who were accused of harboring Shi‘i sympathies. On the other hand, partly undoubtedly due to his uncompromising character, Chusti failed to unite the local Naqshbandi groups under his own leadership. Similarly he was unable to secure the support of the Shaybanid rulers, particularly after he quarreled with Baraq Khan, the governor of Tashkent from 1552 to 1556. Therefore, although spiritual descendents of Chusti could be found in these regions even in the early twentieth century, his line did not exert the influence enjoyed by its Juybari counterparts to the west.15
Expansion out of Transoxiana
Along with the incorporation of most Central Asian Naqshbandi groups under his authority, ‘Ubaydullah Ahrar is also credited with the expansion of the brotherhood to other parts of the Muslim world. His missionary zeal
was directed mainly westward, toward Iran and Asia Minor. Ahrar’s principal strategy was to send foreign disciples back to their native countries with authorization to propagate the path on their own.
The crystallization of new major Muslim empires in the early sixteenth century changed the geographical patterns of this expansion. Naqshbandi presence was gradually eliminated in Iran, which was turning Shi‘i under Safavid coercion, while it intensified under the Ottomans, then emerging as the bastion of Sunnism. Most importantly, the brotherhood found a new home in the Mughal Empire of India, which was founded in 1526 by a Timurid prince and Naqshbandi adept from the Ferghana valley. Finally, by the second half of the century the Naqshbandiyya had acquired a paramount position in Eastern Turkistan as the progeny of Ahmad Kasani, the Makhdumzade Khojas, established themselves in the Tarim basin. This section focuses on the dissemination of the Naqshbandiyya to western Asia and eastern Turkistan during the sixteenth century; the parallel establishment of the brotherhood on the Indian subcontinent is discussed at the beginning of Chapter 4, as a prelude to the establishment of the Mujaddidi offshoot.
Contacts among Naqshbandi groups stretching over so vast an area, from the Balkans to the borders of China, could be at best tenuous; unlike in Transoxiana, decentralization remained the order of the day even when branches co-existed in the same region or the same city, most notably in Istanbul. Consequently, each Naqshbandi center developed the shared tradition according to local conditions, and relatively independent of the others or of the original lines in Central Asia. Many masters also proved ready to combine their path with the paths of the dominant Sufi traditions in their region. Diversity was most salient in the political field: the Ottoman Naqsh- bandis were basically quietist, their counterparts in India invariably sought the proximity of the rulers, and the Khojas of Eastern Turkistan became themselves the rulers. Above this diversity, however, not least in response to the rising Shi‘i challenge from Iran, a general tendency emerged among the Naqshbandi masters of the sixteenth century to emphasize the orthodoxy of their brotherhood. This stress was given a definite shape, though not without its own paradoxes, in the teaching of Ahmad Sirhindi, the founder of the Mujaddidi offshoot in India.
Western Asia
The introduction of the Naqshbandiyya into western Asia was connected with the process of Ottoman state building and the search for an orthodox alternative to the unruly dervish fraternities that had accompanied the conquest of Anatolia. Sultan Bayazid I, who initiated the first attempt to create a unified Ottoman state in the late fourteenth century, drew Khwajagan masters to his court, among them a son of Amir Kulal, Amir Sultan (1368– 1429), who even became his son-in-law.16 The Naqshbandiyya established a
firm foothold in the Ottoman domains during the reign of Sultan Mehmed II, conqueror of Constantinople/Istanbul in 1451. Most important among the masters who furthered the path in the city at this initial stage were ‘Abdullah Ilahi and his deputy Ahmad Bukhari, both disciples of Ahrar. The brotherhood acquired a firm presence in Istanbul and in nearby Bursa, second only to the influential Khalwatiyya, and by the midseventeenth century could boast of twelve active lodges (tekkes). It was less successful in the provincial towns of Anatolia and Rumeli or in the countryside.
Naqshbandi presence was felt earlier in the Arab lands owing to the pilgrimage undertaken by many masters and through the work of disciples of Ahrar who stayed in the Hijaz to propagate the path. In the late sixteenth century Ahmed Sadiq Taskandi, a disciple of Islam Juybari, turned his attention also to the Arab provinces, now under Ottoman rule; later on he settled in Istanbul to found another lasting Naqshbandi line in the capital. Naqshbandi activity in Arabia, as well as in Kurdistan, began in earnest only
Figure 3.2 Major Naqshbandi lines in Istanbul during the sixteenth century
in the seventeenth century and therefore will be dealt with in the next chapters.
‘Abdullah Ilahi was a native of Simav in western Anatolia, who acquired the religious sciences in Istanbul before traveling east in pursuit of spiritual guidance. He completed the path with Ahrar, and then was sent as deputy back to Anatolia. On the way he visited Jami, who converted him to Ibn ‘Arabi’s teachings. Ilahi returned to his hometown and established an impressive circle of followers. Loath to seek publicity by nature, he moved to Istanbul only after much hesitation in 1481, settling in a dilapidated college in the Fateh quarter. He soon attracted the attention of the city elite and high-ranking ‘ulama, which ultimately caused him to leave for a secluded place in Rumeli. Ilahi’s last years were spent in writing on Sufi matters, particularly in expounding the Malamati tradition and the intricacies of wahdat al-wujud.17
The task of establishing the Naqshbandiyya in Istanbul was thus left to the more practical Ahmad Bukhari, Ilahi’s faithful companion and foremost deputy. A grandson of Khwaja Mahmud Faghnavi and a disciple of Ahrar, it was Bukhari who provided a solid material base for the operation of the brotherhood in the Ottoman capital by establishing three lodges; the most prominent among them, in Fateh, continued to exist for at least three centuries. Like his master, Bukhari gathered a large body of committed followers, most of them from among the elite. These he guided through a “distinct way,” consisting of perpetual silent dhikr, concentration on God, and strict observance of the Sunna and shari'a.
Bukhari’s successors throughout the sixteenth century (see Figure 3.2) followed in his footsteps in their strict orthodoxy, as well as in appealing to the religious scholars, expanding the material base of their brotherhood, and seeking the patronage of the elite. The foremost among them, Mahmud Celebi of Fateh, attracted many scholars by teaching Rumi’s Mathnawi, while Hekim Celebi of Izmit exploited his influence over the Grand Vizier to persecute the Shi'i Kizilbash of eastern Anatolia.18 Several of the Naqsh- bandi masters of Bursa also belonged to this line, principally the native poet and writer Mahmud Lami'i Celebi (d. 1531), who perpetuated the literary models of Jami and Nava’i.19
Other Naqshbandi masters arrived in the Ottoman capital from Transoxi- ana, directly or via Iran or India, before as well as after ‘Abdullah Ilahi. One of the earliest was Ishaq Bukhari Hindi, for whom Sultan Mehmed II (14511481) is said to have endowed the first center of the brotherhood in Istanbul, the Hindiler Tekkesi. The stream of Naqshbandis who came to the city was swollen in the sixteenth century by pilgrims who assembled there to join the organized caravan to the Hijaz after it became an Ottoman domain, and by refugees from Safavid Iran who preferred to live under Sunni government. Among the latter was Sun'ullah Kuzakunani of Ardabil (d. 1576), the only missionary master of note hailing from the Kashghari line of Herat, who
was brought to Istanbul following his flight to Aleppo.20 Many of these masters combined their Naqshbandi affiliation with other Central Asian Sufi traditions. Such was the case of Shaykh Khazini, a follower of the Naqshbandiyya, Yasawiyya, and Kubrawiyya, who practiced the vocal dhikr which he justified by asserting that not the form of the recollection of God was important but its intention.21
More important still was the aforementioned Ahmed Sadiq Taskandi, scion of a venerable sayyid family from Bukhara who through a succession of pilgrimages spread the brotherhood in the Arab lands, particularly Damascus and Jerusalem. He also authorized a local disciple to compose the first known treatise on the Naqshbandi lineage in Arabic. Upon arriving in Istanbul toward the end of his life, Taskandi may have initiated into the brotherhood the pious Sultan Murad III (1574-1595), who sponsored the first Turkish translation of the Rashahat. Taskandi’s son, Ziya’uddin Ahmed, took over the Bukhari tekke in Fateh in 1593; it stayed in the family’s possession for almost two centuries, well after the advent of the Mujaddidiyya.22
Eastern Turkistan
Early traces of the Naqshbandiyya in Altishahr (the six oasis cities of the Tarim basin in today’s Chinese province of Xinjiang) go back to the late fourteenth or early fifteenth century. Gradually it gained ground here at the expense of the Yasawiyya, particularly after the Holy family of Kucha, the Kataki, who were the first to convert a Mongol ruler to Islam, transformed itself into a Naqshbandi line and adopted the title of Khwaja. The brotherhood spread among the Moghul nobility and the settled population of the oases, but also among the nomads in the surrounding regions. At the same time it retained the indigenous emphasis on saint veneration and miracles, which Khwajagan elsewhere usually abhorred. The Naqshbandis of the Tarim kept firm connections with their colleagues in Transoxiana, and many set out westward to study with its great masters. Among them was Sa'duddin of Kashghar, the founder of the major Naqshbandi line in Herat. Another important master was Tajuddin Kataki (d. ca.1533), a disciple of Ahrar, who propagated the path farther east among the Uighurs, then inhabiting the vast area between the Turpan region and the Jiayuguan Fort in Gansu, until he was killed in a fight with the Chinese. Two grandsons of Ahrar, Muhammad Yusuf (d. 1530) and Mahmud Nura (d. 1536), vied for primacy in Altishahr itself, but when the former died the latter went on to India.23
Naqshbandi activity in Eastern Turkistan was consolidated in the second half of the sixteenth century under the domination of the Makhdumzade lineage. Makhdum-i A'zam himself seems to have acquired some influence in Yarkand, where he was granted several endowments, but he never visited the region in person.24 It was his son Ishaq who established the family in the
oases of the Tarim basin. Ishaq Wali (d. 1599) was a formidable rival of the Juybaris, to whom his elder brother had passed the Naqshbandi leadership of Transoxiana. When he fell foul of the Uzbek ruler ‘Abdallah Khan II in the 1580s, he dispatched some disciples to Altishahr and then went there himself. Capitalizing on his descent, his spiritual charisma, and his loyal disciples, Ishaq was soon able to establish himself as head of the various Naqshbandi masters in the country.
The Ishaqiyya, as Ishaq Wali’s group came to be known, expanded the influence of the Naqshbandiyya among the common folk in the Altishahr oases, as well as among the nomadic Kirghiz peoples in the Pamir and Tian Shan mountains to their west. Most importantly, Ishaq Wali became deeply involved in local Moghul politics, when in 1591 he helped place his disciple Muhammad Khan on the throne. Later on Muhammad was named Ishaq’s successor, thereby combining the Naqshbandiyya with Chaghataid royalty. This move paved the way to the seizure of the Moghul throne by the Makhdumzade Khojas in the seventeenth century.25
4
SHARI‘A AND RENEWAL IN THE
GREAT EMPIRES (SIXTEENTH TO
EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES)
The Naqshbandiyya spread into the Indian subcontinent in the footsteps of the conquering Timurid army. Babur, the founder of the Mughal Empire in 1526, belonged to a family which had been closely allied to ‘Ubaydullah Ahrar, and was himself tutored by one of the foremost disciples of the master in Ferghana. His successors’ commitment to the brotherhood was less pronounced as they became enmeshed in the Indian environment, but it nonetheless remained substantial owing to their Central Asia connections. Among the Naqshbandis who settled in Mughal India were several descendents of Ahrar; these were normally integrated into the religious- administrative elite. They were followed by practicing masters, who in the next two centuries disseminated the Naqshbandi path in different parts of the country. Most consequential among them was Baqi Billah in Delhi who, unlike his colleagues, did not confine his activities to the foreign Mughal elite but propagated the tariqa also among the local population. Among his disciples was Ahmad Sirhindi, the founder of the Mujaddidiyya, which in due course superseded almost all other Naqshbandi lines in India.
The Mujaddidiyya derives its name from the role of renewer of the millennium (mujaddid-i alf-i thani), which was ascribed to Sirhindi by his disciples following his own allusions. Ahmad Sirhindi received more scholarly attention than any other master in the history of the Naqshbandiyya. This was initially due to the appropriation of his image by the modern Pakistani national movement, though his prominence lay rather in the spiritualintellectual sphere. Sirhindi’s major achievements were in forging a fresh combination of the mystic path and the shari‘a, and in adding a new dimension to the Sufi tradition through the concept of wahdat al-shuhud (unity of perception). A controversial figure in his own lifetime and after, Sirhindi succeeded in propagating his message above all by the “Indianization” of his tariqa. The subsequent dwindling of immigration from Central Asia in the wake of the disintegration of the Mughal Empire in the eighteenth century left the Mujaddidiyya the only viable Naqshbandi offshoot in India. The
spread of the Mujaddidiyya to other parts of the Muslim world, particularly the Ottoman Empire and Central Asia, and its relations with the original Naqshbandiyya of these regions, will be dealt with in the next chapter.
Subscribing to the practice of familial heredity, Ahmad Sirhindi nominated three of his offspring as consecutive successors, describing them as his heirs to the lofty degree of sustainer of the world (qayyum). In the wake of the destruction of Sirhind by the Sikhs in the mid-eighteenth century, the activity of the Mujaddidiyya was dispersed between competing branches of the family in the capital Delhi and in the Punjab. The brotherhood was reunited and reformed in the circumstances of the Mughal decline through the leadership of Mazhar Jan-i Janan in Delhi, who abandoned the endeavor to influence the rulers and focused his attention instead on protecting the integrity of the Muslim community. His enterprise was continued by his successor, Ghulam ‘Ali, who following the British conquest of Delhi in 1803 turned his attention from the Indian environment to the Muslim world at large. Contemporary Naqshbandi masters in the Mughal capital adopted alternative courses, making them precursors of the modern transformations in the Naqshbandiyya. Nasir ‘Andalib and his son Mir Dard found refuge in the poetry of the “Muhammadan way,” whereas Shah Waliullah turned to the sciences of hadith.
The new emphases in the teachings of the Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya were conveyed through a variety of mediums, from “official” hagiographies and doctrinal treatises to records of mystical discourses and collections of letters. In the Indian Mujaddidi tradition, of special importance were the letters through which masters guided their disciples or addressed public figures. The example was set by Sirhindi himself in what came to be known as Maktubat Imam-i Rabbani (Letters of the Divine Master). It was compiled during his lifetime in three consecutive volumes which betray the evolution of his mystical thought.
Another important genre for the study of the Naqshbandiyya during this period is the general biographical dictionaries. These usually focus on the chains of teachers and students that constitute the backbone of the religious estate. In this chapter and the next we use two major works of this kind, representing two modes of organization of the material, the temporal and the spatial; both were written by scholars who were themselves related to the Naqshbandiyya. In the Indian case this is ‘Abd al-Hayy al-Hasani’s Nuzhat al-khawatir wa-bahjat al-masami‘ wa’l-nawazir, which deals with the men of religion of the subcontinent from earliest times to the author’s contemporaries in the early twentieth century.
Our knowledge about the Mujaddidiyya is more advanced than it is about the original Naqshbandiyya. Still, especially in the Indian sphere, there is a certain imbalance in the scholarly literature, which has focused on the ideas of the towering figures of Sirhindi and Waliullah at the expense of other masters and aspects of the brotherhood. Moreover, with some notable
exceptions much of the research is lacking in scientific standards, and in recent years it has almost come to a standstill.
Arrival in the Indian subcontinent
The first Naqshbandis arrived in India with Babur, a Chaghataid-Timurid princeling from Andijan who after establishing himself in Kabul invaded north India and made Agra his capital in 1526. Babur was a grandson of Abu Sa‘id, the ruler of Samarqand under whom Ahrar had acquired his political clout, and was himself tutored by one of the influential disciples of the master in the Ferghana valley who became his adviser when, still a boy, he ascended the throne. Later on the young ruler tried to gain the support of Ahrar’s son Yahya in Samarqand, but on account of the Uzbek victories he was finally driven out of Transoxiana and turned southwards. There is no doubt that Babur was an ardent admirer of Ahrar, as is evident inter alia from the versified translation into Turkish which he prepared of one of his epistles. Makhdum-i A‘zam, the contemporary leader of the Central Asian Naqshbandiyya, then dedicated a treatise to the new Indian sovereign, Risala-i baburiyya, which included commentary on his poetry along with directives for government.1
As Indian rulers, Babur’s successors on the Mughal throne had to pay more attention to the established brotherhoods in South Asia: the Qadiriyya, the Shattariyya, and above all the Chishtiyya. Nevertheless, the country remained a major attraction for Central Asian Naqshbandis, who were integrated into the mostly foreign administrative-religious elite and were allowed wide scope for action. The immigrants included members of the principal Naqshbandi dynasties, as well as spiritual masters imbued with missionary zeal. Among the first were two grandsons of Ahrar. One who had arrived from Eastern Turkistan left, disgusted by the dependence of Emperor Humayun (1530–1540, 1555–1556) on a Shattari Sufi, while the other remained and spent his life in Mughal service. Under Akbar (1556–1605), the consolidator of the Mughal Empire, the stream of Central Asian Naqshbandis greatly accelerated, among them members of the Juybari family who fell foul of the new Astrakhanid rulers in Bukhara. Interested in high civil and military posts rather than in the mystical path, the newcomers usually supported the syncretistic religious policy that Akbar adopted after 1579. Naqshbandis were also often employed as ambassadors from the Mughal court to the Turkish dynasties of Transoxiana, not least in the common struggle against Safavid Iran.2
More important for the establishment of the Naqshbandiyya in India were practicing masters who throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries spread out to various parts of the subcontinent. Such masters considerably differed in terms of their backgrounds and the ways in which they performed their task. While most of them still await a serious study, the few existing
monographs may help us form a picture of the common modalities of their work on the one hand, and isolate the particular features that explain the ultimate success of the Mujaddidiyya on the other. The monographs at our disposal are those of Khawand Mahmud, who introduced the Naqsh- bandiyya into Kashmir in the early seventeenth century, and of Palangposh and Baba Musafir, who brought the brotherhood to the Deccan toward the end of that century. Their activity will be contrasted with that of Baqi Billah, a contemporary of Khawand Mahmud, who implanted the Naqshbandiyya in the heartlands of the Mughal Empire and recruited to its ranks the seminal figure of Ahmad Sirhindi.
Khwaja Khawand Mahmud (1563–1642) was a descendent of ‘Ala’uddin ‘Attar and a disciple of Ishaq Wali Dahbidi, founder of the Ishaqiyya branch in Eastern Turkistan. Like Ahrar, in his youth Mahmud abandoned his formal religious studies in favor of the mystical quest. He was authorized as Ishaq’s deputy in 1598 and was sent to propagate the path in Lahore. Instead he stopped in Srinagar, Kashmir, which had been incorporated into the Mughal Empire in 1586. Unlike previous Naqshbandi masters in the region, Mahmud attracted not only official patronage but also a wide popular following. His estimated fifteen deputies, however, were almost all of Central Asian origin. Two of these were sent to propagate the path in Tibet.
Khawand Mahmud undertook several journeys to Agra, but was unable to forge firm connections in the court of Jahangir (r. 1605–1627), partly because of the influence of Naqshbandis attached to the rival Juybari line. Back in Kashmir he became entangled in the local struggle against the substantial Shi‘i community, and as a result in 1636 Emperor Shah Jahan (r. 1628–1657) summoned him to Delhi and banned his return to Srinagar. Khawand Mahmud spent the last six years of his life in Lahore, to which he had been originally assigned by his master. He was succeeded in Kashmir by his learned son and biographer Mu‘inuddin (d. 1674), followed successively by his progeny until the line died out in the late eighteenth century.3
Baba Muhammad Sa‘id Palangposh (d. 1699) and his disciple Baba Shah Muhammad Musafir (d. 1714) were natives of Ghijduwan and belonged to a local Naqshbandi lineage that also returned to Makhdum-i A‘zam. The two arrived in India in 1675 and followed the army of Awrangzeb, the last great Mughal emperor (1658–1707), to the Deccan. They represented two different types of Sufis. Palangposh, literally ‘Leopard-clad,’ moved with a retinue of attendants (darvishes) in the fashion of the unruly Qalandars to aid the forces in battle through his powers of concentration (tawajjuh). The two aspects of his spirituality are vividly described by his biographer.
With 40,000 men under his command Ghazi al-Din Khan was appointed to pursue the enemy separately with his own forces and attack them wherever they spread out. When his forces went to war, they saw that Hazrat Baba Palangposh always went forward in front
of the army of Islam and would loose arrows upon the army of unbelievers. When Ghazi al-Din’s men saw his blessed beauty, even though their numbers were small, they would launch themselves courageously upon the foe and gain the victory.4
Around 150 to 200 men, faqirs of Wilayat [Transoxiana], wearing quivers, went beside his bridle. Another band, bareheaded and barefoot, who had nothing but a single loincloth on the bodies, acquired felicity by looking after the horses and camels and other tasks . . . These faqirs, as they were seekers of God and believers in Hazrat Palangposh, considered the hardships by night and day to be the best of comforts and heaped up the treasure of the last days. Baba Palangposh, as his were a broad way and a generous nature, in accordance with the path of the Qalandars and with peace towards the rest of mankind, bestowed the glance of compassion upon all, whether stranger or acquaintance, king or beggar.5
The austere Baba Musafir, by contrast, settled in the new capital Aurangabad, where he founded the impressive Panchakki shrine. Little interested in disseminating the Naqshbandi path among the local population, he attracted disciples and followers almost exclusively among Central Asian immigrants like himself. His successor, Baba Shah Mahmud (d. 1761), further expanded the lodge with the support of the first Nizam of Hyderabad, who broke off from the Mughal government in the north in 1722. Mahmud is the author of the hagiographical work on Palangposh and Musafir on which this analysis largely relies, lately translated into English by Simon Digby. By his time, this Naqshbandi line was already in decline owing to the dwindling of immigration from Central Asia. The Panchakki shrine became the private property of his descendents, who lived off the large land grants attached to it until the last of them died without heirs in 1916.6 Today it is managed under the supervision of the ministry of endowments by a Chishti-Qadiri master, the aged Shah Muhammad ‘Abd al-Rashid Vahdati, who by virtue of his position claims to be affiliated also with the Naqshbnadiyya.7
Unlike the above masters, who regarded themselves and were perceived as foreigners, Muhammad Baqi Billah (1563–1603) held a middle position between Central Asia and India. Sayyid Raziuddin, known to posterity as Baqi Billah (lit. abiding in God) was born in Kabul into a religious family that originated from Samarqand. Since his youth he had been attracted to the Sufi traditions of his fathers’ homeland and several times journeyed northward in search of enlightenment. On the last visit, which followed a two-year sojourn with a Naqshbandi master in Kashmir, Baqi Billah joined the circle of Khwajagi Amkanagi (d. 1599), an eminent spiritual descendent of Ahrar in Samarqand. He was allegedly ordained as deputy in three days, before being sent back to India. Staying for fourteen months in Lahore, Baqi Billah arrived in Delhi in 1599 and in the four years that he spent until his
Plate 4.1 Master and disciples at Panchakki shrine, Aurangabad
untimely death in that city, not the capital but still in convenient proximity to the Mughal court, he dedicated himself to the propagation of the Naqsh- bandi tradition. Though it is not easy to disentangle Baqi Billah’s teachings from the ideas of his illustrious disciple Sirhindi, they appear to have revolved around two axes which he regarded as perfectly compatible. One was strict adherence to the shari‘a, the other Ibn ‘Arabi’s doctrine of unity of being.8
To promote his work in Delhi, Baqi Billah pursued two parallel courses. On the one hand, like Khawand Mahmud, Baba Musafir, and many other masters, he sought the patronage of influential nobles of Central Asian origins, who helped him find a lodge and financed his activities. On the other hand, contrary to his Naqshbandi colleagues, Baqi Billah ordained a number of remarkable local deputies, who secured the implantation of the Naqsh- bandiyya in South Asia and beyond. Prominent among these was Husamud- din Ahmad, who after the master’s death looked to the education of his infant sons, ‘Ubaydullah (Khwaja Kalan) and ‘Abdallah (Khwaja Khurd); these two, who inherited the lodge in Delhi, remained deeply devoted to Ibn ‘Arabi’s teaching and favored musical sessions (sama‘).9 Also prominent were Shaykh Ilahadad and Shaykh Tajuddin, who unsuccessfully vied for the leadership of the brotherhood. The latter subsequently left for the Hijaz, and his activity there will be discussed in the next chapter; and finally Shaykh
Delhi
India
The Mujadiddiyya
Baqi Billah’s sons (both b.
1601): Ubayduallah (Khwaja
Kalan)
‘Abdallah (Khwaja Khurd)
Figure 4.1 The lineages deriving from Baqi Billah
Ahmad Sirhindi, whose path was in the long run not only to supersede most other Naqshbandi lines in India, but also to give a new thrust to the history of the brotherhood in general.10
Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindi
Muslim historians sympathetic to the idea of Pakistan appropriated Ahmad Sirhindi as a precursor of Muslim communalism in South Asia. According to them, he strongly reacted against the religious experiments of Emperor Akbar and brought about a gradual change in the religious attitude of the Mughal rulers. This construction is based on episodes in Sirhindi’s biography which recorded his demand that Jahangir be prevailed upon by his ministers to stay away from the “heresies” of his father, as well as on some statements in his writings, such as the assertion that it is incumbent upon the Naqshbandi master to approach the ruler in order to guide him on the path of the shari‘a. These efforts, which echo the political work of Ahrar, are said to have borne fruit in the religious policies of the pious Awrangzeb.11
Rival historians, generally supported by Western scholarship, have demonstrated that neither Sirhindi nor any of his descendents had exercised any notable influence on the evolution of Indian politics.12 Indeed, in the demographic realities of the subcontinent, where Muslims always remained a minority, discriminating against Hindus was ultimately harmful to the interests of the state. It was in the Sunni Muslim majority countries to which the Mujaddidiyya subsequently spread that the orthodox and activist dimensions of Sirhindi’s teaching could be put into practice. This was especially the case with Khalid al-Baghdadi who, at the head of his own Khalidi offshoot, disseminated the path in the Ottoman lands in the early nineteenth century.
In any event, politics was only one dimension in Ahmad Sirhindi’s overall mystical project; the final success of his Mujaddidi offshoot in India was a result of a combination of other factors. One was his impressive intellectual
abilities, which are plainly demonstrated in the theoretical depth of his Sufi thought in general and in the forceful formulations he gave to the Naqsh- bandi teaching in particular. Secondly, unlike other Naqshbandi masters in India, Sirhindi was a native of the country and well versed in its scholarly and mystical traditions. Related to this is that, like his Central Asian contemporaries, he adopted an inclusive approach toward other brotherhoods, remaining affiliated with some of them under the overall Naqshbandi umbrella. Finally, Sirhindi laid the foundations for the organizational network of the Mujaddidiyya by sending deputies to propagate the path in the towns of India, and even more so by ordering, in parallel to similar developments in the Makhdumzade and Juybari lines, that the leadership devolve upon his descendents. For his followers, the greatness of Sirhindi was proven by innumerable miraculous deeds which, his devaluation of miracles notwithstanding, fill the pages of the hagiographies composed by his disciples. Central among these are Hazarat al-Quds (The Presences of Holiness) by Badr al-Din Sirhindi and Zubdat al-Maqamat (The Quintessence of Mystical States) by Muhammad al-Hashim al-Kishmi al-Badakhshani.
Ahmad Sirhindi was born in 1564 into a family of scholarly standing in the Punjab. After attaining a thorough religious education he left at the age of twenty for Agra, where he established contacts with leading scholars at Akbar’s court. Allegedly taken aback by their “free thinking”, he returned home to follow the Sufi path under his father, ‘Abd al-Ahad, a master in the Qadiriyya and Chishtiyya brotherhoods and an admirer of Ibn ‘Arabi.13 At that time Ahmad also wrote several scholarly works, including a vindication of the orthodox view of prophecy, Ithbat al-nubuwa, and a refutation of the Shi‘i creed, Radd-i rawafiz. Following the father’s death Sirhindi intended to perform the hajj, but while in Delhi he was introduced to Baqi Billah and stayed with him. Completing the path within three months in 1599, the impressed master nominated him deputy. The transformation that Sirhindi underwent during that time is indicated in his first Sufi compilation, Mabda’ wa-ma‘ad (The Crux of the Matter).14
After Baqi Billah’s death Sirhindi quarreled with the other deputies over both the leadership and points of doctrine. He devoted himself to the propagation of his path, authorizing numerous disciples who carried his message from Sirhind to the major urban centers of north India. Occasionally, he would also urge high officials in Jahangir’s court to impress upon the emperor his duty to implement the shari‘a. In 1619 Sirhindi was summoned to Agra and imprisoned, either for his arrogance, as Jahangir himself wrote, or because of the renewed Shi‘i influence in the court, as the master’s biographers maintain. On his release a year later he chose to remain in the royal camp and returned to Sirhind only shortly before his death in 1624.15
Understanding the mystical teachings of Ahmad Sirhindi is largely a matter of hermeneutics, which engaged his Mujaddidi followers and adversaries alike, as well as modern scholars. This derives partly from the complexity of
Plate 4.2 Present master at the tomb shrine of Ahmad Sirhindi
his ideas and partly from the nature of the genre in which they were conveyed. Rather than a coherent exposition, as a Sufi master Sirhindi chose to express himself on an ongoing basis through letters in which he responded to disciples’ questions or addressed men of prominence. These were collected during his lifetime in three consecutive volumes under his own direction.16 Extending over a quarter of a century, the ideas contained in the letters were affected by the circumstances in which each was written, as well as by shifts in the author’s emphases over time. A detailed analysis of Sirhindi’s doctrines is beyond the scope of this book; we will only touch on some major themes that run through his whole edifice. These revolve around the advent of the millennium, the relationship between shari‘a and tariqa, the Sufi tradition, the Naqshbandiyya brotherhood, and the Indian environment.17
Ahmad Sirhindi’s thought was anchored in the general messianic fervor that swept India toward the advent of the first Muslim millennium in 1591.18 Sirhindi describes a fundamental transformation in the hierarchy of spiritual “realities” according to which the lower haqiqat-i Muhammadi ascended to unite with the higher haqiqat-i Ka‘ba while receiving the name haqiqat-i Ahmadi. Beyond this is the haqiqat-i ilahi, the reality of God as such. This corresponded to the disappearance of Muhammad’s worldly individuation (ta‘ayyun), its symbol in the first mim of his name being replaced by an alif standing for divinity (uluhiyyat) and thus becomes Ahmad, which also
happens to be Sirhindi’s first name. As a result, he claims, the community lost the prophetic guidance and sank into infidelity and unlawful innovation.
The decline of the Muslim community will be reversed, however, with the appearance of the renewer of the millennium (mujaddid-i alf-i thani), later referred to more modestly as “one of the community” ( fard-i ummat) but also as “the sustainer of creation” (qayyum), who revives the faith and through whose mediation God grants all people existence and all outer and inner perfections. Sirhindi did not identify himself explicitly with either of these figures, but this is not far below the surface.19 Thus he writes in a letter to a trusted disciple:
I am both the seeker of God (murid Allah) and God’s desired (murad Allah). The chain of my discipleship is connected with God the most exalted without any mediation and my hand is the substitute for the hand of God the most exalted. My discipleship is connected with Muhammad the messenger of God, pray and peace upon him, through many intermediaries: in the Naqshbandi brotherhood between me and him are twenty-one intermediaries, in the Qadiri brotherhood twenty-five intermediaries, and in the Chishti brotherhood twenty-seven intermediaries . . . Hence I am both a disciple of Muhammad the messenger of God and share with him the same preceptor.20
Many statements in Ahmad Sirhindi’s writings testify that he regarded the Sunna of the Prophet and the shari‘a as superior to Sufism. The object of the mystical quest, according to him, is not knowledge of the unseen but increased certainty in one’s faith and ease in performing the religious duties. He also warns that on the day of resurrection people will be asked about their adherence to the shari‘a, not about their tariqa. On the other hand, Sirhindi’s concept of Islamic law is rarely that of the jurists. He rather emphasizes the inner aspect of the shari‘a, which entails a proper understanding of the ambiguous verses of the Qur’an (mutashabihat). Such understanding is the fruit of following the Sufi path. In other words, tariqa is the servant of the shari‘a, but its service is essential for making obedience to the shari‘a complete. The ulama, the guardians of the law, are correspondingly divided by Sirhindi into two types: the worldly scholars (‘ulama’-i zawahir), who are captivated by the form of the shari‘a and rely on the unequivocal verses of the Qur’an (muhkamat), and the profound scholars (‘ulama’-i rasikhan), who delve into the essence of the shari‘a and are no other but the true Sufis.21
Other basic concepts in the Islamic tradition receive the same dialectical treatment. Most important in this respect are the concepts of infidelity and prophecy. Sirhindi naturally confirms the absolute opposition between Islam and infidelity (kufr): they are “two antidotes that will not meet until the
arrival of the hour of resurrection. Reinforcing the one demands elimination of the other and honoring the one requires humiliation of the other.”22 On a higher, mystical level, however, they represent consecutive stages on the mystical path. Sufi infidelity occurs in the state of unity ( jam‘), in which the wayfarer is annihilated in God ( fana’) and forgets everything else, even the distinction between Creator and creature. Sufis in this state should not be punished since they are overwhelmed by the love of God. Sufi Islam reflects the state of separation following unity ( farq ba‘d jam‘), in which the wayfarer subsists in God (baqa’) while regaining all distinctions. In this stage Sufism is united with the essence of the shari‘a.23
Likewise, prophecy (nubuwa) is not only the mission of a person sent by God but also, in conjunction with sainthood (walaya), the culmination of the mystical journey. Whereas sainthood is characterized by mystical intoxication (sukr), the prophet is privileged to return to sobriety (sahw) and guide the people to God. In contrast with the historical prophecy which has been sealed with Muhammad, mystical prophecy thus never ceases.24
This brings us to what is perhaps the most intricate aspect of Ahmad Sirhindi’s thought, namely his attitude to Ibn ‘Arabi and the central concept associated with his name, wahdat al-wujud. Modernist writers have depicted Ibn ‘Arabi’s theory as irrational monism, detrimental to both the survival of the Muslim community in India and to its modernization, and Sirhindi as completely rejecting it.25 Yet as Friedmann and ter Haar have shown, although criticizing certain aspects of the Great Master’s teaching, Sirhindi highly appreciated his contribution to Sufi thought. Moreover, he excused his controversial utterances as equivalent to the innocent errors of a mujtahid and, in line with his open attitude toward other Sufis, including the intoxicated Bayazid Bistami and Husayn ibn Mansur al-Hallaj, he regarded them as legitimate expressions of the mystical experience.
Sirhindi maintained that the wujudi utterance “all is He” (hame ust) does not imply that God dwells in the material world or is united with it, but only that beings are manifestations of the Divine Essence. It is thus actually identical with the orthodox “all is from Him” (hame az ust). On the other hand, over against wahdat al-wujud Sirhindi places wahdat al-shuhud, the unity of perception, a higher stage in which God is perceived as one and completely different from his creation.26 This leads to the ultimate stage of certitude, which is nothing but servitude to God.27
As for the Naqshbandi tradition, Sirhindi stresses time and again that it is built on the twin foundations of strict observance of the shari‘a and full submission to the perfect master. The first, he points out, entails not only distancing oneself from what is forbidden but also from what is permitted by way of dispensation. Accordingly, although innovations may have crept even into the Naqshbandiyya, it generally shuns objectionable customs prevalent among the Sufis, such as music, dancing, and ecstatic sessions. Miraculous deeds are also of no consequence, the true import of the saint being in
observing the law and attracting others to God. Sirhindi does not condemn such practices, but insists on the exclusive practice of the silent dhikr. His attitude is epitomized in his stress on the Bakri lineage of the Naqshbandiyya, which set it apart from the other brotherhoods that trace their origins to ‘Ali. The second foundation is the embodiment of the practice of companionship (suhba) between master and disciple, supplemented by the mutual techniques of “attention” (tawajjuh) and “bond” (rabita), the latter commonly referred to in India as annihilation in the master ( fana’ fi’l-shaykh). In parallel to his mystical interpretation of the shari‘a, Sirhindi identifies the Naqshbandiyya with the way of the Prophet’s Companions, which leads to the perfections of prophecy. Owing to these characteristics, he claims, the Naqshbandiyya is the shortest and most effective way to reach the mystical goal:
The attainment of this great state depends in this time on allegiance to the exalted Naqshbandi group and direction toward them. What happens in one association (suhba) with them cannot be attained by hard spiritual exercises and arduous effort over a long time. This is because in the path of these Great Ones the end is included in the beginning (indiraj al-nihaya fi ’l-bidaya) . . . The path of these Great Ones is the path of the noble Companions (tariqat al-sahaba). What these obtained at the beginning of their accompaniment of the best of humankind [the Prophet Muhammad] is rarely achieved by the saints of this community at the end of the path.28
“The inclusion of the end in the beginning,” a principle already attributed to Baha’uddin Naqshband, implies that the Naqshbandi adept begins his mystical journey where other Sufis end theirs; it is thus the epitome of the superiority of the Naqshbandiyya over all other brotherhoods. This means that through his direction the master shares his advanced stage with his beginning disciple, and thus enables him to reach closer to God than in other brotherhoods. Put differently, this mystical inversion is an expression of the precedence in the Naqshbandi path of the attraction to God ( jadhba) over traveling toward Him (suluk), which so active an influence of the master brings to his disciple. Yet on a higher level “the inclusion of the end in the beginning” underlies the peculiar contribution of Sirhindi to Sufism in general and to the Naqshbandi tradition in particular. A profound formulation of the Malamati paradox that had characterized the way of the Khwajagan from its very beginning, it not only reinforced Naqshbandi involvement in public affairs as formulated by the principle of solitude in the crowd but also provided it with a new ground for its orthodoxy by emphasizing constant awareness of God along the path as implied in the parallel principle of yad dasht.29
Paradoxically, India does not occupy a prominent place in the thought of Sirhindi. He generally belittles the contribution of Indian Muslims to the
Islamic culture and stresses their indebtedness to the religious scholars of Transoxiana. His writing is located within the classical frame of reference, even concerning themes relevant to the situation in India in his day. Such are Sirhindi’s denunciation of the Shi‘is, though usually as misguided believers rather than sheer infidels; his condemnation of women, whom he describes as utterly stupid and prone to blameworthy practices; and the harsh measures he demands against the Hindus. To define the status of the latter, Sirhindi argues that prophets were sent to India but were all rejected, as is “evidenced” by the existence of ruins all over the country and by whatever is correct in the teachings of the Brahmins. The Muslim government should therefore humiliate the Hindus by mercilessly levying the poll tax ( jizya) on them, by treating them like dogs and, above all, by the slaughtering of cows.30
Facing orthodoxy
The expansion of the Mujaddidiyya in South Asia began with Ahmad Sirhindi himself, who sent numerous deputies to propagate his message in the urban centers of north India. Most of his deputies, though, met with little success. The brotherhood continued to spread throughout the seventeenth century under the direction of his son and heir Muhammad Ma‘sum and other descendents. However, their missionary activity was hampered by several formidable obstacles. One was fierce religious antagonism on the part of rival Naqshbandi lineages and of orthodox circles at large, who were alarmed at Sirhindi’s extravagant statements. Another was the inability of the Mujaddidis to establish firm contacts with the political authority. Then there was the inner rivalry among the Mujaddidi family itself, which prevented unified action. Opposition reached its peak during the reign of Awrangzeb, when reading the Maktubat was officially prohibited.
Conflict arose between Sirhindi and other senior disciples of Baqi Billah in the Delhi lodge – Tajuddin and Ilahdad – shortly after the death of the master in 1603. While this may have begun as the usual dispute over the succession, and in this case also over the education of Baqi Billah’s minor sons, it became exacerbated in time by questions of doctrine. Sirhindi’s rivals accused him of deviating from the path of their preceptor, while he was upset at their attraction to mystical music and dance, practices which he loathed.31 Orthodox opposition to Sirhindi began somewhat later, when his collection of letters began to circulate. Among his critics was ‘Abdulhaqq Dihlawi, a prominent scholar who specialized in hadith studies and an erstwhile admirer. The main points at issue were Sirhindi’s arrogance in claiming to be equal to the Prophet with no intermediary between himself and God, and his statement that the reality of the Ka‘ba is superior to the reality of Muhammad. Later discussions generally followed these lines of argument.32
Sirhindi’s efforts to spread the Mujaddidi path in north India were also beset by difficulties. Most of his deputies were still Central Asians and
Afghans, and their ability to propagate his teachings was limited. When one of them, Adam Banuri (d. 1663), acquired a large following among the Afghans in the Punjab, he was banished by the Mughal government to the Hijaz.33
Little research has been done on the development of the Mujaddidiyya under Ahmad Sirhindi’s descendents in the seventeenth century. It seems that Muhammad Ma‘sum, his third son, who had been designated heir in 1623, was particularly active in disseminating the new path, both in India and outside it. Together with his older brother, Muhammad Sa‘id, Ma‘sum continued to write letters of guidance to his father’s disciples and engaged in clarifying and defending his controversial assertions. This is precisely what biographer ‘Abd al-Hayy al-Hasani has to say about him:
The master, the imam, the great scholar: Ma‘sum ibn Ahmad ibn ‘Abd al-Ahad al-‘Adawi al-‘Umari, Shaykh Muhammad Ma‘sum al- Naqshbandi al-Sirhindi. He was the most beloved among his father’s children, resembled him most in his manner, the closest to him in his standing, the most faithful to his way of life, the most special in his spiritual perceptions, the most famous among the people, and the most beneficial to them . . .
He learned some books with his big brother Shaykh Muhammad Sadiq, and most of them with his father and Shaykh Muhammad Tahir al-Lahuri. He attended his father and “took” from him the path . . . His father predicted for him lofty states such as qayyumiyya (sustaining the world) and its like. When his father died, he began to guide [lit. sit on the pillow of guidance]. He traveled to the Holy Places, performing the hajj and visiting the Prophet’s tomb, and stayed in Illuminated Medina for substantial time. Then he returned to India and spent his life in teaching and advising.34
Of particular interest is the question to what extent the two brothers influenced the religious policies of the orthodox Emperor Awrangzeb. Sa‘id and Ma‘sum both sent him several letters, mostly before his ascension to the throne in 1658, and the latter’s son, Safiuddin, spent some time at his court. There is no doubt that the Mujaddidis supported Awrangzeb, but as Friedmann notes, they were more concerned with teaching the Mughal ruler the spiritual principles of the Naqshbandi path than in molding his religious policies. Moreover, alarmed at the rise of orthodox anti-Mujaddidi feelings, in 1679 Awrangzeb instructed the Chief Qadi of Aurangabad to proscribe the teaching of Sirhindi’s Maktubat. The actual effect of this decree is uncertain. At the same time, internal rivalries became apparent among Sirhindi’s grandsons, resulting in recurrent divisions within the family. The depredations of the Sikhs in the Punjab prompted many of them to leave Sirhind for Delhi or other places in the Punjab and beyond.35 They were
particularly welcomed in the principality of Rampur, where they enjoyed the patronage of the local Nawab.36
Reunification and assimilation
Opposition to the Mujaddidi brotherhood subsided during the eighteenth century with the progressive disintegration of the Mughal Empire and the subsequent conquest of Delhi by the British. The political crisis resulted in the disappearance of most Naqshbandi lines dependent on the government, leaving the Mujaddidiyya the only viable offshoot. Within the Mujaddidiyya itself the crisis stimulated a variety of reactions, some actually exceeding the bounds of the brotherhood. Such were the teachings of Shah Waliullah and of Nasir ‘Andalib and his son Mir Dard, whose enterprises will be discussed in Chapter 8. But the need to respond was also felt among the feuding branches of the Mujaddidi family. Consequently, by the mid-eighteenth century the leadership passed out of the family to Mirza Mazhar Jan-i Janan, who in his spiritual genealogy reunited several lines of descent deriving from Sirhindi. Adapting the tradition he inherited to the realities of Mughal decline on the one hand, and renewing its missionary impetus on the other, his path came to be referred to as the Shamsiyya-Mazhariyya. His successor Ghulam ‘Ali renewed the Mujaddidi missionary activity also away from India. The central lodge in Delhi was restored to the descendents of Sirhindi in the early nineteenth century, when the situation in the city improved.
Born around 1700 into a noble family of Afghan extraction which served in the Mughal administration, at the age of eighteen Mazhar Jan-i Janan gave up the official vocation and the inheritance awaiting him in favor of the Sufi quest. Moving to Delhi, he attended several masters of different brotherhoods, but was mostly attracted to the Mujaddidiyya. He followed the path under Nur Muhammad Badayuni and completed it with Muhammad ‘Abid Sunami, attending in between other spiritual masters of its lineage (see Figure 4.2). After Sunami’s death in 1747 Mazhar became head of the central Mujaddidi lodge in Delhi. Though strict in his rules of conduct, he was sought out for initiation by many, mostly into the Naqshbandiyya but occasionally into the Qadiriyya, Chishtiyya, or Suhrawardiyya brotherhoods. Women were guided by his wife until she became insane.
Mazhar Jan-i Janan apparently authorized more deputies than any of his predecessors, particularly from among the Afghans inhabiting the lands east of Delhi. They spread his message throughout the country, from the Punjab in the northwest to the Deccan in the south. In the footsteps of Sirhindi, Mazhar regularly corresponded with his deputies; his letters were later collected, and they form the basis of our knowledge about his life and ideas. Unlike the great master, though, he also undertook frequent journeys to visit his deputies and authorized the most talented among them to systematize his teachings. Inimical to the renewed prominence of the Shi‘a in the court, in
Figure 4.2 The spiritual genealogy of Mazhar Jan-i Janan
1781 Mazhar allegedly made some derogatory remarks against a ta‘ziya procession (consolation for the death of Imam Husayn) and was assassinated by a group of Shi‘i zealots.37
As a true heir to the Mujaddidi tradition, Mazhar is invariably described as strictly following the precepts of the shari‘a. He was particularly attached to the Prophet Muhammad, whom he regarded as the source of his powers. Alarmed by the increasingly precarious situation of the Indian Muslim community of his time, Mazhar introduced some momentous novelties into the tradition, the repercussions of which are felt to this day. For one, in clear contrast to Sirhindi’s injunction to approach the rulers in order to guide them on the path of the shari‘a, he relinquished contacts with the government. This is conveyed in two anecdotes that Hasani cites from the biography compiled by Mazhar’s foremost disciple:
Muhammad Shah had sent to him [Mazhar] his minister Qamar al- Din Khan and said to him: God gave me large property, take from me whatever you like. He replied that God most high says: Say: the possession of this world is little.38 As the possessions of the seven regions [of the world] are little, what is the worth of the small fragment of one region that is in your hands. The poor one [Sufi] will not bow to kings for so little . . . Nizam al-Mulk gave him 30,000 coins, but he did not accept them. Nizam al-Mulk said to him: If you do not need it, take it and distribute it among the needy. [Mazhar] replied: I am not your secretary, if you want to distribute it do it by yourself once you have left my house.39
On the other hand, in an effort to avert the frictions that had beset the Mujaddidiyya since the days of its founder, Mazhar adopted a more tolerant attitude toward all elements of society: the other Sufi traditions, the religious estate at large, and even the Indian environment. Such an attitude also explains his unprecedented success in disseminating the Mujaddidi path. Mazhar’s was an introverted way, offering a retreat into the spiritual realm in times of public disorder and rampant violence.
Thus, while adhering to Sirhindi’s position that wahdat al-shuhud represents an advanced stage in relation to the commonly accepted wahdat al-wujud, Mazhar Jan-i Janan maintained that both are legitimate parts of the Sufi revelation. To further mollify the adversaries of the Mujaddidiyya he deemphasized the entire issue by placing it outside the category of essential beliefs. Similarly, while himself avoiding music in accordance with the Mujaddidi teachings, Mazhar did not object to the practice as long as it conformed to the shari‘a. He even went so far as claiming that in this respect the difference between his brotherhood and, say, the Chishtiyya was a question of temperament rather than principle. Within the Muslim community at large, Mazhar sought to reduce conflict both among the legal schools
(madhahib) and between the Sunna and Shi‘a. In the first case, perhaps under the influence of Shah Waliullah, he suggested resolving differences by referring them to the reliable hadith. As for the more pressing second issue, possibly in an attempt to appease the influential Shi‘i group in the court Mazhar maintained that respect for the Companions of the Prophet did not belong to the essentials of the faith either, and that owing to their profession of the unity of God (shahada) the Shi‘a should be included within the fold of Islam.
The greatest departure of Mazhar from the Mujaddidi tradition, however, concerned his attitude toward the Hindus. Showing acquaintance with the basic teachings of Hinduism, he stated unequivocally that they too profess the unity of the One and therefore should be exonerated from the charge of polytheism (shirk). Mazhar recognized Krishna and Rama as prophets and the Vedas as of divine origin, and even went so far as to describe Hindu idolworship as resembling the Sufi rabita in that both practices involve using an intermediary for the concentration on God. Mazhar nevertheless regarded the Hindus as unbelievers (kafir), as distinct from polytheists, since they did not follow the divine laws delivered by Muhammad, the seal of the prophets. On the practical plane, Mazhar admitted Hindu disciples to his circle, some of them on the basis of a shared interest in Persian and Urdu poetry.
The inevitable struggle over the leadership of the Mujaddidiyya that followed the death of Mazhar Jan-i Janan was decided in favor of Ghulam ‘Ali Dihlawi (d. 1824), his foremost disciple from the Punjab. His main adversary was Na‘imullah Bahraichi (d. 1803), who then chose to move to Lucknow, capital of the Shi‘i regional state of ‘Awadh. Each of the contenders wrote a biography of the master, no doubt partly to enhance their stance. Of cardinal importance to the development of the brotherhood were also the more scholarly Ghulam Yahya ‘Azimabadi (d. 1772) and Thana’ullah Panipati (d. 1810). ‘Azimabadi, who was located in Lucknow too, was assigned by Mazhar to formulate his position regarding the controversy over Sirhindi’s wah- dat al-shuhud.40 More important still was Panipati, an outstanding scholar and a prolific writer who combined wide erudition in the religious sciences, particularly those of jurisprudence and hadith, with Naqshbandi spirituality, a trend that would achieve full realization in the teachings of the Khalidiyya.41
Ghulam ‘Ali consolidated the renewed Mujaddidi path that had been initiated by Mazhar by providing it with an institutional center and by extending his call to foreign disciples. A native of Batala in the Punjab, Ghulam ‘Ali moved to Delhi with his family when eighteen years old. Under the inspiration of his father he sought spiritual guidance from several masters, until four years later he joined Mazhar’s circle. Upon the master’s death, Ghulam ‘Ali undertook the guidance of his disciples, and when their number grew he erected an extended lodge over his tomb. In the footsteps of Mazhar, he supported the institution by unsolicited donations rather than by
endowments and gifts from the ruling elite and the wealthy. He also tightened the alliance between the Mujaddidiyya and the Indian Afghans.
In the wake of the conquest of Delhi by the British in 1803 Ghulam ‘Ali accentuated some of his master’s positions and reformulated others. For one, he emphatically rejected any association with the infidel government or employment in its service. To compensate for this, he turned his attention to the Muslim community and made the lodge an institutional source of patronage for the needy. In this context Ghulam ‘Ali used to say that his power of attention was of such great effectiveness that it became the equivalent of formal initiation. On the other hand, his inability to exert influence on the foreign Christian government drove Ghulam ‘Ali to reinstate the basic orthodoxy of the Mujaddidiyya. In contrast to his master he showed himself opposed to mystical audition, to Shi‘i beliefs, and to any community with Hindus. Instead, Ghulam ‘Ali developed a sense of identity with the Islamic lands outside India, particularly of Central and Western Asia, making special efforts to draw disciples from them. Upon completing the path under his guidance in the Delhi lodge, these were sent back to their home countries with full authorization to initiate disciples of their own.42 Among them pride of place is reserved for the Kurdish Shaykh Khalid, who integrated the renewed spiritual message from India with the quest for modernity in the Ottoman state.
5
INNER RIVALRIES AND
COOPERATION
Paradoxically, it was outside India that the orthodox and activist thrusts of Ahmad Sirhindi’s teaching came into fuller play. Mujaddidi missionary efforts began with Sirhindi’s son, Muhammad Ma‘sum, in the midseventeenth century. They were directed at both the Ottoman Empire, now with its Arab provinces, and the Central Asian Khanates, at the original lands of the Naqshbandiyya. In both regions the Mujaddidis had to compete not only with masters of other brotherhoods, but at times also with those affiliated to the original Naqshbandiyya, who in addition often vied among themselves. At other times a relationship of cooperation was established between existing branches of the Naqshbandiyya and newcomers from the Mujaddidi offshoot.
Of particular importance for the spread of the Mujaddidiyya were the Holy Cities in Arabia, which in the seventeenth century emerged as the hub of an international network of Islamic scholarship. Here, however, the Mujaddidis were preceded by another prominent disciple of Baqi Billah, namely Tajuddin al-‘Uthmani. Their mission was further compounded in the second half of the century, when the controversy that raged in India in the time of Emperor Awrangzeb (r. 1658–1707) regarding Sirhindi’s orthodoxy spilled over to the Holy Cities and resulted in his denunciation as an infidel.
The Mujaddidiyya was more successful in the Syrian provinces of the Ottoman Empire and especially in Istanbul. This was due to the work of two deputies of Ma‘sum, Murad al-Bukhari, the founder of the leading religious family of Damascus for the next century and a half, and Ahmad Jarullah Juryani, who gained many followers among the learned and bureaucratic elites in the Ottoman capital. The brotherhood had been first introduced in Transoxiana by yet another deputy of Ma‘sum, Habibullah Bukhari, and was latter reinforced by Musa Dahbidi, a descendent of Makhdum-i A‘zam. It acquired considerable political influence in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries in both the Ottoman Empire, then embarking on the path of modernization, and the Mangit Khanate which sought to revitalize the Bukharan state. The Mujaddidiyya failed to penetrate into Eastern Turkistan and China, where a fierce contest among rival Makhdumzade lines
during the seventeenth century was followed, in the second half of the eighteenth century, by the introduction of the New Teaching of Ma Mingxin, a spiritual descendent of Tajuddin ‘Uthmani.
There are no collections of letters of Mujaddidi or non-Mujaddidi masters of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries operating outside India comparable to the Maktubat of Ahmad Sirhindi. In the Ottoman domain we find instead translations into Turkish and Arabic of the foundational Naqshbandi texts along with numerous original expositions of the brotherhood’s teachings, mostly still in manuscript form. But we do have at our disposal biographical dictionaries, of which we used here Muhammad Khalil al-Muradi’s Silk al-durar fi a‘yan al-qarn al-thani ‘ashar (The String of Pearls on the Notables of the Twelfth Century), roughly covering the eighteenth century. A more concentrated form of this kind of legitimization is the scholarly roster (thabat), of which Abu Salim al-‘Ayyashi’s Ithaf al-akhilla’ bi-ijazat al-masha’ikh al-ajilla’ (Presenting the Friends with the Diploma of the Venerable Masters) will serve as an example.
Arabia
The Naqshbandiyya became known in the Hijaz from the early stages of its existence. Baha’uddin Naqshband, Muhammad Parsa, ‘Abdurahman Jami, and many others performed the hajj and may have initiated disciples into the brotherhood. Deputies of ‘Ubaydullah Ahrar came to the Haramayn for longer periods in order to disseminate the path, most notably Isma‘il Shahrawani who spent four decades in Mecca combining Sufi guidance with the teaching of Qur’an and hadith. Unable to fully integrate within the local society, the Naqshbandi adepts in the Holy Cities were mostly visitors from Central Asia, Iran, and India.
Neither did the Istanbul Naqshbandiyya succeed in striking roots in the Hijaz, even after the incorporation of the Arab lands into the Ottoman Empire in the early sixteenth century, which facilitated free movement through the entire area. One exception was Ahmed Sadiq Taskandi, who in the latter part of that century disseminated the path in the course of a number of pilgrimages he undertook before as well as after he settled in Istanbul. Only in the seventeenth century did a member of the Central Asian Naqshbandiyya, Muhammad Husayn Khwafi of the Dahbidi line, successfully propagate the path in Mecca; he even married into the local Sharifian elite. He was the preceptor of Muhammad Hasan ibn al-‘Ujaymi, author of an important Sufi biographical dictionary of the Haramayn, Khabaya al-zawaya (Secrets of the Lodges).1
An enduring Naqshbandi presence was established in Arabia during the seventeenth century by masters from India belonging to both pre-Mujaddidi and Mujaddidi lineages. This coincided with the emergence of the Haramayn as the center of a cosmopolitan network of scholars, who radiated a
combination of orthodox Sufism and hadith studies to many regions of the Muslim world.2 The earliest among the Indian masters was Sibghatullah Baruji, who blended the Naqshbandi and Shattari traditions, along with the teachings of Ibn ‘Arabi. Arriving in Medina in 1596, Baruji built a lodge (ribat), which became a center of Sufi guidance, and ordained a number of remarkable disciples, the foremost being the learned Ahmad al-Shinnawi. This lineage led to the towering figures of seventeenth-century Medina, Ahmad Safi al-Din al-Qushashi and Ibrahim al-Kurani, the focal points of the scholarly network of their time. The import of this chain of transmission is exemplified in the license (ijaza) that Kurani bequeathed to a Moroccan master, which begins thus:
I authorize by way of recitation Shaykh ‘Abdallah [Abu Salim al- ‘Ayyashi] and all those mentioned with him for everything that was authorized to me and from me in the books of hadith, exegesis, jurisprudence and its principles, theology (kalam), Sufism including treading the path, mystical knowledge and truths, and whatever else is known to be related to me. In the science of mystical truths he read with me al-Tuhfa al-mursala ila rasul Allah (The Gift Transmitted to the Prophet) of Shaykh Muhammad ibn Fadl Allah al-Hindi, the most revered disciple of the master of our masters, the eminent erudite scholar who combined the inner and outer sciences, al-Sayyid Sibghatullah ibn Ruhullah al-Hasani [al-Baruji] blessed be his secret. He learned with me in another reading part of al-Futuhat al-makkiyya of the master of investigation, my master Shaykh Muhyi al-Din ibn Muhammad ibn al-‘Arabi blessed be his secret. He also read part of his Fusus al-hikam. I handed it over from our master, the imam, the succor, the seal, my master Safi al-Din Ahmad ibn Muhammad al-Madani [al-Qushashi] . . .3
Baruji was followed in Arabia by Tajuddin Zakariya al-‘Uthmani, Sirhindi’s rival to the succession of Baqi Billah. Tajuddin performed the pilgrimage first in 1617 and then in 1631, after which he spent the last decade of his life in Mecca. He had great success in spreading the Naqshbandiyya in the Haramayn, but also in the eastern province of al-Ahsa’ and above all in the Yemen, where he attracted to the path ‘Abd al-Baqi of the learned Miz- jaji family. To enhance his teaching, Tajuddin translated major Naqshbandi works into Arabic, including Jami’s Nafahat al-uns and Kashifi’s Rashahat ‘ayn al-hayat, and authored some epistles of his own, in which he expounded the lineage of the brotherhood and its practices.4
The Mujadiddiyya was introduced into the Haramayn by Adam Banuri, Sirhindi’s powerful deputy in the Punjab. Banuri arrived in Mecca in 1642 and engaged in training disciples on the path. To spread his master’s ideas among the scholars of the Haramayn he also translated into Arabic a
selection from the Maktubat. However, his exposition of Sirhindi’s teachings aroused opposition among the ulama, particularly on the part of Qushashi and his followers who were affiliated with the original Naqshbandiyya. The controversy was of a scholarly nature rather than specifically Sufi, and initially revolved around Sirhindi’s doctrine regarding the superiority of the reality of the Ka‘ba to that of Muhammad.
Apparently to relax tensions, Muhammad Ma‘sum sent to Mecca one of his closest deputies, the Bukharan Ahmad Jarullah Juryani, and in 1656 went himself on the hajj, accompanied by his brothers and a large entourage. Ma‘sum stayed in Medina for the next three years, during which time he did his utmost to appease Qushashi and his associates, a clear indication of the great importance that he attached to the acceptance of the brotherhood in the Haramayn. When the Mujaddidi group set out to return to India, another close deputy, Badr al-Din al-Hindi, was left behind. Both Hindi and Juryani remained in the Holy Cities for the rest of their lives, and are said to have won the respect of the local scholars and to have initiated into the Mujaddidiyya numerous disciples, residents and pilgrims.
Still, the controversy over Ahmad Sirhindi’s teachings was rekindled in 1682, following the arrival of a request for a legal opinion (istifta’) from the Mujaddidiyya’s opponents in India who wished to buttress Emperor Awrangzeb’s official ban on the Maktubat. The charges leveled this time against Sirhindi were more comprehensive and included the extravagant claims he made about himself and his millenarian doctrines. Two of Kurani’s associates composed within a month book-length replies in which they declared Sirhindi an infidel. These were sent to “the qadi of India” by the Sharif of Mecca with an accompanying letter in which he asserted that these authors’ verdict was unanimously accepted. Copty suggests that the Sharif’s attitude derived from his desire to appease Emperor Awrangzeb and to pocket himself the large amount of charity that the latter had sent that year to the Haramayn. Be that as it may, there are clear indications that some of the Hijazi ulama did not agree with the condemnation of Sirhindi, among them perhaps Kurani himself. The defense of the Mujaddidiyya’s founder was taken up, with at least some measure of success, by Muhammad al- Uzbeki, who maintained that the fatwas against him were based on faulty translation and misrepresentation of the Maktubat.5
Surprisingly, no detailed studies are available on the development of the Naqshbandiyya in the Hijaz during the eighteenth century, despite the importance commonly assigned to this period as the culmination of premodern reform trends in Islam. From the pieces of information that we do have, mainly from biographical dictionaries such as that of Muradi, it appears that the polemic around Sirhindi and his teachings faded, and the Mujaddidiyya was integrated into the scholarly fabric of the Haramayn. Still, owing in great part to the legacy of Qushashi and his followers in Medina, it was unable to surpass the original Naqshbandiyya, which
remained one of the leading brotherhoods in Arabia. Among its principal leaders in the eighteenth century we find Isma‘il al-Uskudari (d. 1768), a student of Muhammad Abu Tahir, son of Ibrahim al-Kurani. The elite character that the Naqshbandiyya retained during this period is exemplified by the multilineal affiliation to the brotherhood of the Mirghanis, a noble Meccan family of Central Asian origin. One of its scions, Muhammad ‘Uthman al-Mirghani, may later have passed some Naqshbandi traits to the Sudan through his reformist Khatmiyya brotherhood. The Naqshbandiyya continued to be strong among the learned elite of Zabid also.6
The Ottoman Empire
The group of Sufi ulama that fought against the spread of the Mujaddidiyya in the Haramayn in the seventeenth century represented a powerful combination of learned opposition to Sirhindi’s controversial teachings and faithful allegiance to the original Naqshbandiyya. No comparable impediment existed in the heartlands of the Ottoman Empire where, as we have seen, the various Naqshbandi centers were largely disconnected, or in its Arab provinces, where they hardly existed. In these regions relations between the two branches were generally amicable. In the early seventeenth century a Naqshbandi lodge was established in Jerusalem, but its influence remained limited as residence was restricted to non-Arabs, preferably from Transoxiana; hence its name, al-zawiya al-uzbakiyya.7
Later on ‘Abd al-Ghani al-Nabulusi (d. 1731), the celebrated religious scholar of late seventeenth and early eighteenth-century Damascus, was initiated into the original Naqshbandiyya by a Bukharan master belonging to the Dahbidi line while the latter paid a short visit to the city in 1676. Though this affiliation remained superficial, he wrote an influential commentary on Tajuddin Uthmani’s Tajiyya. But Nabulusi also composed a work in defense of Sirhindi and associated with the Muradis, the leading Mujaddidi family of Damascus.8 Unlike Arabia, then, in other parts of the Ottoman Empire the Mujaddidiyya was better placed to eclipse earlier Naqshbandi groups.
The introduction of the Mujaddidiyya in Istanbul and in the Syrian lands was effected principally through the agency of two deputies of Muhammad Ma‘sum, both of Central Asian origin and both physically handicapped: Murad al-Bukhari, who shuttled between Damascus and Istanbul, and the above-mentioned Juryani, who was popular among the Ottoman pilgrims in the Haramayn. While we are still hardly in a position to assess the actual spiritual work and the special teachings of either Bukhari or Juryani, the available research allows us to take them as the starting point for an examination of the major strategies through which in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries the Mujaddidi tradition was transmitted and institutionalized. One of these was familial succession, which facilitated the
incorporation of the saint’s physical descendents into the imperial and local elites, as was the case with the Muradis. Another process was cooperation with masters of the original Naqshbandiyya, most visibly in Istanbul. Last but not least was the endeavor to influence the Ottoman government, in line with Sirhindi’s original provision. Such involvement had been undertaken by Bukhari on behalf of the people of Damascus, and reached its climax a century later in the form of support by a spiritual descendent of Juryani, Mehmed Amin Bursali, for the first attempt at modern reform in the Ottoman Empire under Sultan Salim III.
Our knowledge of the Muradi family history depends almost exclusively on the biographical dictionary of its fourth-generation member, Muhammad Khalil. As Barbara von Schlegell has suggested, this may have projected on them greater importance than is due, but it nevertheless offers us a closer look at the trajectory of a Naqshbandi family within the imperial/provincial and spiritual/worldly dialectics characterizing pre-modern Muslim states. In the course of a century and a half the Muradis became embedded in the local elite of Damascus at the expense of their imperial connections, and they shed their actual Naqshbandi identity in favor of a more comprehensive Islamic interest. Murad al-Bukhari, the eponym, was born in 1640 to a noble family in Samarqand. He became paralyzed in his legs at the age of three, a condition that did not prevent him from spending much of his life traveling. In India Murad was appointed Ma‘sum’s deputy and then went on the hajj. Spending three years in the Hijaz, he returned to Samarqand through Iraq and Persia, only to depart for the west again.
Figure 5.2 Naqshbandi genealogies in Damascus and Istanbul
Murad al-Bukhari established his residence in Damascus around 1670. As his great grandson tells us:
Among his deeds in Damascus was the college known after him. Before, this had been a hostel where corrupt and sinful people lived. God saved it from darkness to light. Its endowment deed stipulated that no beardless [lad], no married man, and no smoker of tobacco shall live there. He also built a college at his home in the Suq Saruja quarter, which is known as the Outer Naqshbandi college, along with a mosque.9
Murad, however, seems to have become more interested in Istanbul, whither he set out for the first time in 1681. In a number of prolonged sojourns in the Ottoman capital he succeeded in gaining audiences with two successive sultans, petitioning them to alleviate onerous taxes from the people of Damascus and to free the city of its financial and political civic responsibility for the annual pilgrimage caravan. In recognition of his standing he received a sinecure from some villages in the Damascus area, which were the basis for the future prosperity of his family. In 1708 Murad moved permanently to Istanbul, where he became involved in the political struggles over the Great Vizierate, and also wrote a short treatise on the Naqshbandiyya.10 After his death in 1720 his burial place in the Eyup quarter became an important center of the Istanbul Mujaddidiyya, with several affiliated Muradi lodges along the Golden Horn.
The descendents of Bukhari preferred to remain in Damascus. The family was divided into two branches, the more important being that of his younger son Muhammad (d. 1755). He was ordained as deputy by his father and studied Ibn ‘Arabi’s Futuhat al-makkiyya with Nabulusi.11 Muhammad set out for Istanbul after his father’s death, but on the way he suffered a spiritual crisis that forced him to return to Damascus and assume an ascetic way of life. In 1752, three years before his death, the reputed Sufi master was summoned to the presence of the sultan in Istanbul, and was greatly honored by twice performing the hajj on his and his successor’s behalf.
Muhammad was succeeded by his eldest surviving son, ‘Ali al-Muradi (d. 1771), who identified much closer with his city’s interests and acted as a local notable, mediating between government and society. ‘Ali greatly expanded and diversified the economic resources of the family through landholdings, management of waqf endowments, and patronage, while for his services to the central administration he was appointed in 1758 to the most prestigious religious post in Damascus, namely its Hanafi mufti. The position was retained by the family almost uninterruptedly for the next century. When ‘Ali died prematurely the leadership devolved upon his minor son, the biographer Muhammd Khalil al-Muradi (d. 1791), who achieved scholarly fame but lost much of the family’s contacts in the Ottoman court. As Khalil died in his
early thirties without offspring, the leadership passed to his cousin ‘Ali (d. 1815) and then to the latter’s son Husayn (d. 1850).12 No longer a practicing Naqshbandi Sufi, Husayn supported the religious revival that Shaykh Khalid initiated in Damascus in the 1820s as the head of the new offshoot of the Khalidiyya.13
We have no comparable source of information on Ahmad Juryani, also known as Yakdast (the one-handed). Even Muradi’s information about him was sketchy:
He came to noble Mecca and settled there for years. He became famous and excelled. Many people took from him the aforementioned tariqa [Naqshbandiyya]. He and [my] grandfather, the master Muhammad Murad ibn ‘Ali al-Bukhari, may God sanctify their secret, were companions during their study with the master Muhmmad Ma‘sum al-Faruqi.14
Still, Juryani’s spiritual chain appears time and again throughout the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries among the bureaucratic and learned elites of Istanbul. His followers here perpetuated the Naqshbandi disconnected mode of operation, as well as its propensity to cooperate with other Sufi brotherhoods. These included not only the elitist Mevleviyya and indeed the pre-Mujaddidiyya itself, but also, not unlike the situation we have met in India, the wandering Qalandars.15 The foremost deputy of Juryani in the Ottoman capital was Mehmed Amin Tukadi (Tokatli), who received initiation while on the hajj. Tukadi became administrator at one of the Sufi lodges founded by Ahmad Bukhari, co-founder of the original Naqshbandiyya in Istanbul in the fifteenth century, and gained a large following which included ulama and high officials. He also initiated the first translation of Sirhindi’s Maktubat into Turkish. The task was accomplished shortly after his death by Sa‘d al-Din Mustaqimzade, though its quality left much to be desired.16
Another instance of inter-Naqshbandi cooperation revolved around what came to be known as the Kashghari lodge in the hills above Eyup. It was built by a high official who had been introduced into the Mujaddidiyya by Juryani while on pilgrimage. This appointed to the lodge ‘Abdallah Nida’i (d. 1760) of Kashghar, an itinerant Naqshbandi belonging to the Dahbidi lineage. Nida’i regarded poverty ( faqr) as the heart of the Sufi quest and wandered as a mendicant for forty-five years before settling in Istanbul. Gaining first the patronage of a follower of Murad al-Bukhari who renovated for him the Qalandar Khane of Eyup, he later moved to head the new lodge uphill. Despite the high respect that he acquired among the Mujad- didis of Istanbul Nida’i never abandoned the original Naqshbandiyya. His lodge became a meeting place for pilgrims from Central Asia, while its masters often served as ambassadors between the Ottoman government and
Plate 5.1 Interior of the Kashghari tekke in Istanbul
the Central Asian Khanates. It remained in the possession of Naqshbandi masters, mostly the founder’s family, until the outlawing of Sufi brotherhoods by the secular Turkish government of Ataturk in 1925, and to some extent even thereafter.17
The impact of Juryani’s Naqshbandi-Mujaddidi branch in Istanbul peaked in the latter part of the eighteenth century, when its leaders became involved in Ottoman reform politics. Its prominent master at that time, Mehmed Amin Bursali, was a Kurd from Kirkuk, who entered the service of the Grand Vizier. Bursali was first initiated into the Mujaddidiyya in his hometown; then, in Istanbul, he joined a learned group belonging to the line of Juryani which was also affiliated to the Mevlevi brotherhood and engaged in teaching the Mesnevi, Rumi’s great collection of poems. As Abu-Manneh has shown, many among the reformist elements in the bureaucracy of Sultan Selim III (1789-1807), who initiated the first Ottoman effort at modernization, were followers of Bursali. As a Mujaddidi master bent on influencing the ruler, the latter’s support seems to have derived from his recognition of the need to revitalize the empire, along with his desire to keep the reforms within the bonds of the shari'a. In the wake of the dethronement and murder of Selim, Mehmed Emin was exiled to Bursa while many of his followers were put to death. Subsequently, in the early years of Sultan Mahmud II (1808-1839), one of his deputies, Ali Behcet, moved back to Istanbul and reestablished contacts with some government officials of reformist bent. In the
1820s these joined forces with the Khaliddiyya in the renewed drive to set the empire on the course of reform.18
From Istanbul the Mujaddidiyya also spread into the Balkans, mainly in the Bosnia and Herzegovina provinces. According to legend, Naqshbandis took part in the Ottoman conquest of these regions in 1463, and their first lodge was built shortly thereafter by the governor in what came to be Sarajevo. They were followed in the 1480s by ‘Abdullah Ilahi of Simav, founder of the Istanbul Naqshbandiyya, who however was more interested in contemplation and writing than in training disciples. Allied with the rulers who supported them with stipends and lands, the Naqshbandis of the Balkans may have been used in the struggle against unorthodox dervishes.
The brotherhood was reinvigorated toward the end of the eighteenth century with the arrival of the Mujaddidiyya, which established its major lodges in the countryside around Sarajevo. It was brought to the Balkans by Husein Baba Zukic (d. 1800), who was initiated into the path while completing his religious studies in Istanbul. At the instruction of his guide, who belonged to Murad al-Bukhari’s line, he then left for Konya where he spent three years at Rumi’s shrine, another sign of the cooperation between the two brotherhoods, and proceeded to Bukhara to spend seven more years at Baha’uddin Naqshband tomb. After returning from his travels Zukic founded a lodge in his home village of Zivcˇic´, in a mountainous area west of Sarajevo; his sole deputy, ‘Abdurrahman Sirri Baba (d. 1846), founded nearby a second lodge, around which the village of Oglavak grew up. On being nominated the governors of Bosnia would go there to pay their respects. One of Sirri Baba’s deputies, Muhammad Mejli Baba (d. 1853) who came from Anatolia, took up the lodge in Zivcˇic´, and descendents of both continued to head the two lodges at least until Yugoslavia’s civil war of the 1980s.19
The Central Asian Khanates
The trajectory of the Mujaddidiya in Central Asia paralleled in many respects the developments in the Ottoman domains. In these regions, though, rivalry between local branches largely replaced the cooperation we have noted in Istanbul, while contacts with the Indian primary brotherhood remained more substantial. As in Western Asia, the Mujaddidiyya was introduced into the original Naqshbandi lands in the second half of the seventeenth century by a deputy of Muhammad Ma‘sum, Habibullah Bukhari, who met the master in India or in Mecca. His name appears in many of the Mujaddidi genealogies in Transoxiana.
Half a century later another branch was established in the area by Musa Khan Dahbidi, a descendent of Makhdum-i A‘zam, who had been initiated into the path by Muhammad ‘Abid, one of Mazhar Jan-i Janan’s masters, in Kashmir. Musa thus merged the Mujaddidi and Dahbidi lines but, unlike his illustrious ancestor, he shunned politics. Dedicating himself to writing,
training disciples, and preaching the shari‘a, he followed the Indian territorial model in assigning each of his more than hundred deputies a specific town or region. The arrival of Musa in Transoxiana sparked a rivalry with Mujaddidi masters of Habibullah’s lineage. After Musa’s death animosity also developed between two of his major successors: Khudayar, his first deputy, and Muhammad Siddiq, who soon eclipsed him as head of the shrine in Dahbid. The Mujaddidiyya was also implanted in the Ferghana valley, where its most influential representatives were the Miyan family in Kokand.20
Again in parallel to Istanbul, the Central Asian Mujaddidiyya acquired palpable political influence in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century, following the rise of the Mangit dynasty of Bukhara (1785–1920). The early Mangits were not merely fervent adherents, and patrons, of the brotherhood, but actual Sufi masters. The Mujaddidiyya provided them with legitimization, backed their drive to reinforce law and order in the country in the face of hostile Uzbek chieftains, and served as intermediaries between them and the people. On the other hand, the power of the Mujaddidi masters was circumscribed by their divisiveness, which allowed the Mangit rulers to play off one master against the other.
Shah Murad (1785–1800), the founder of the dynasty, was initiated into the Mujaddidiyya by a master who belonged to Habibullah Bukhari’s lineage, and was later declared deputy. Subsequently, as a ruler, Murad chose a second master, the Indian Miyan Fazl Ahmad, a descendent of Sirhindi on his mother’s side who, like his ancestor, was also affiliated to the Qadiriyya and Chishtiyya brotherhoods. Ahmad served for twenty years as the mentor of Murad’s son and successor, Amir Haydar (1800–1826), but later he had to contend with the head of the Dahbidi circle, Muhammad Amin. Eventually, Amin became the ruler’s new preceptor after moving at his request to Samarqand, while Ahmad seems to have returned to his hometown Peshawar, in today’s Pakistan.21
Under the influence of his Mujaddidi masters Shah Murad implemented a strictly orthodox policy after his ascension to the throne, owing to which he gained the epithet of “reviver of the sunna, protector of the shari‘a, and remover of deviations.” During his reign Murad abolished unlawful taxes, renovated mosques and religious schools, and called his people time and again to follow the shari‘a. Ascetic in his disposition, he declared war against the Shi‘is, but also against Sufi brotherhoods, including some branches of the Naqshbandiyya, which practiced vocal dhikr. Amir Haydar, his successor, was likewise extolled for his piety and continued to support Islamic institutions and learning, though he somewhat moderated the religious policies of his father. Haydar indulged in a luxurious lifestyle, and re-imposed taxes and forced labor to finance the administration. He had no objection to vocal dhikr, which was practiced along with the silent one in the Dahbidi line. Under the later Mangits the Mujaddidiyya lost much of its political
Figure 5.3 Major Mujaddidi masters in Transoxiana
influence, as the attention of the rulers shifted from local politics to the struggle against the Russian expansion.
The most remarkable Mujaddidi master in Transoxiana during the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries was apparently Muhammad Niyazquli (Pir-i Dastgir), Khwarazmian belonging to Habibullah Bukhari’s lineage. Extremely orthodox, Niyazquli emphasized the precedence of the shari‘a over the tariqa, and of following the path (suluk) over divine attraction ( jadhba). He was likewise an adamant opponent of vocal dhikr. Niyazquli’s uncompromising attitude earned him the animosity of fellow Naqshbandis, including the influential Amin Dahbidi, and of the religious estate of Bukhara at large. Nevertheless, under the protection of the Mangit rulers he served for thirty years as a preacher in the central mosque of the city and founded his own Sufi lodge, the celebrated Chahr Minar. Niyazquli was largely responsible for the spread of the Mujaddidiyya in the Muslim parts of the Russian Empire, disciples of his becoming particularly active in the Volga-Aral region. Through the missionary work undertaken by him and by the other masters, the Mujaddidiyya was able to supersede the original Naqshbandiyya even in its homeland. The absence of a centralized organization did not obstruct, and perhaps even encouraged, this rapid expansion, but it also had a negative side, leaving the brotherhood dependent on the political authority.22
The Chinese Frontier
Unlike in the Ottoman Empire or the Central Asian Khanates, the Mujad- didiyya was unable to excel the original Naqshbandiyya in the Tarim Basin or among the Muslims of China proper. This was largely due to the prominent position that descendents of Makhdum-i A‘zam, locally known as the Khojas, had acquired during the seventeenth and the first half of the eighteenth century in the politics and society of Eastern Turkistan. Combining their sharifian and Naqshbandi lineage with the prestigious Karakhanid ancestry as their sources of legitimization, the Khojas came to exercise overwhelming influence on the Khans of the oasis cities, and later became themselves rulers. Concomitantly they conducted wide-ranging missionary activity for the Islamization of both the sedentary and nomadic populations, which they sought to unite under a centralized government.23 The Khojas were divided into two hostile camps, known after their founders as the Ishaqiyya and the Afaqiyya, which fiercely fought for political supremacy in the Tarim. The Afaqi lineage especially was active in spreading the Naqshbandiyya farther east among the Chinese-speaking Hui and Turkish-speaking Salars. It also established contact with the Dalai Lama in Tibet.24
At the beginning of the seventeenth century the Ishaqiyya, the lineage of Ishaq Wali, were undisputed leaders of the Naqshbandiyya in the oases of
17th century:
18th century:
Eastern Turkistan
China
Figure 5.4 Inner Naqshbandi divisions in Eastern Turkistan and China
Eastern Turkistan. They wrought enormous influence on the Moghul Khan in Yarkand and amassed large landholdings, turning into the dominant brotherhood in the Tarim Basin. Around the mid-seventeenth century another grandson of Makhdum-i A‘zam, Muhammad Yusuf (d. 1653), arrived from Transoxiana. Encouraged by the local rulers, who found it expedient to support a rival Naqshbandi, he traveled extensively to propagate the path in Altishahr and farther east in Uighuristan and China. Yusuf’s success was such that he was poisoned by partisans of the Ishaqiyya. His mission was continued by his son, Hidayatullah (d. 1694), known to history as Khoja Afaq, founder of the Afaqiyya branch.
Forced to flee from both the Khan and his Ishaqi enemies, Afaq toured China, Kashmir, and Tibet in search of Allies. In Tibet he gained the support of the Dalai Lama, who referred him to the ruler of the Mongol Zunghar confederation to the north of the Tarim.25 The latter sent his army to Alt- ishahr and enabled Afaq to establish himself in the new capital of Kashghar in 1679. Makhdumzade rule in those regions was buttressed by a wide network of able deputies and mass initiation based on dhikr ceremonies which included music as well as ecstatic dance.26 All the while the Ishaqis retained their power base in Yarkand.
Both the Afaqiyya and the Ishaqiyya Khojas, which by the early eighteenth century were renamed the White Mountain and Black Mountain factions respectively, made constant efforts to throw off Zunghari tutelage, but to no avail. The complex political history of the period, in which they played a prominent role, is beyond the scope of this study. In any event, when the Qing army invaded and annexed Zungharia in the second half of the 1750s two great grandsons of Khoja Afaq led the resistance to the incorporation of
Altishahr in the Chinese Empire, not before using the Chinese to eliminate the detested Ishaqis. Defeated in 1759, the brothers fled to Badakhshan, where they were executed. The Khojas continued to play a considerable, though diminished, political role in the new Chinese province of Xinjiang, incorporating Altishahr, Zungharia, and Uighuristan.27
Muhammad Yusuf and his son Khoja Afaq precipitated the advance of the Naqshbandiyya into China proper. They built on previous work of preachers and traders affiliated with the brotherhood, which dated back to at least the second half of the fifteenth century. Yusuf traveled in the northwest provinces – today’s Gansu, Ningsia, and Qinghai – for six months and propagated the path among both the Hui and the Salars. He was followed by Afaq, who in 1671–1672 visited the Gansu capital city of Lanzhou and China’s “Little Mecca,” Linxia. During this tour he established firm contacts with the founder of the Qadiriyya brotherhood in northwest China, and appointed a number of deputies, from whom derived the three major Naqshbandi lineages in the country.
Foremost among these was the line initiated in Linxia by Ma Tai Baba (fl. ca. 1680–90) and his energetic deputy and son-in-law, Abu al-Futuh Ma Laichi (d. 1753). Son of an impoverished noble family, Laichi acquired a thorough religious education and went on the hajj, during which he had a second initiation into the Naqshbandiyya at the hands of Muhammad ‘Aqila al-Makki, a local deputy of Khoja Afaq. Back in China, he launched
Plate 5.2 Attendants and author in the Flowery Mosque Shrine in Linxia
a successful missionary campaign throughout Gansu, which brought him many converts from among both the Buddhists and the Salars. Ma Laichi was buried in Linxia in the Flowery Mosque Shrine, a name that came to designate his Naqshbandi line.28
6
SCHOLARSHIP AND
ORGANIZATION INTO THE
MODERN WORLD (NINETEENTH
CENTURY TO THE PRESENT)
More than any of its antecedents, the Khalidiyya was the creation of its eponymous founder, Diya’ al-Din Khalid. Of Kurdish extraction, Khalid acquired a thorough religious education in his homeland before departing to India in 1809 to be initiated into the Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya by Shah Ghulam ‘Ali. He then propagated a combination of learning and orthodox Sufism during a stormy career spanning Sulaymaniyya, Baghdad, and Damascus. Most importantly, Khalid’s disciples in Istanbul joined the local Mujaddidiyya in supporting Sultan Mahmud II’s (1808-1839) effort to revitalize the Ottoman Empire and re-establish law and order in its provinces. Khalid paid special attention to the organizational dimension of his brotherhood. His innovations in this sphere - a new stress on the rabita, a concentrated form of khalwa, and “closing the door” to non-members during the dhikr - were designed to turn the Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya- Khalidiyya into an effective socio-religious movement in the service of the Muslim community and orthodox Islam.
The involvement of the Khalidiyya in Ottoman reform policies continued throughout the last century of the Empire. The impact of its orthodox tenets was discernible in the early part of the Tanzimat reforms (1839-1876), but as these turned increasingly Westernized the Khalidis moved to the opposition. Many of them, most prominently the hadith scholar Ziya’uddin Gumushanevi, were later integrated into the “Pan-Islamic” policies of the Sultan-Caliph Abdulhamid II. Khalidi activity was greatly hampered by the establishment of the secular Turkish state in the aftermath of the First World War and the subsequent outlawing of the Sufi brotherhoods in 1925.
In Iraq and Syria, the original arenas of Khalid’s work, his brotherhood’s impact was less palpable than in its Turkish or Kurdish parts. This was partly due to the dominance of non-Arab masters in its ranks, and partly to the rising fundamentalist challenge of the Salafiyya, which chose the Naqsh- bandiyya as its main target. In the early twentieth century serious attempts
were made by Khalidi masters to adapt the brotherhood to modern realities. Muhammad Sa‘id in Baghdad and ‘Isa al-Kurdi in Damascus laid the foundations for some of its transformations in post-independence Iraq and Syria. The Khalidiyya also managed to establish a firm presence in the Holy Cities in the Hijaz, still an important hub of communication. This position enabled Khalidi, and parallel Mujaddidi lines, to propagate the path among pilgrims from all over the Muslim world until the Saudi takeover in 1925. It also made some headway in Egypt.
Along with its activity in the Ottoman urban centers, during the nineteenth century the Khalidiyya established a firm foothold in “peripheral” regions in which a Naqshbandi presence had been hitherto marginal or lacking altogether. To enhance its prestige in those regions its masters often forged alliances with local Sufi lineages, notably of the Qadiriyya brotherhood. Thus in Kurdistan, Khalidi saintly families emerged as leaders of tribal society in the wake of the elimination of the indigenous amirates by the Ottoman state from the 1830s onwards. Subsequently, masters of the brotherhood such as Said of Palu and Mustafa al-Barzani became engaged in one way or another in the Kurdish national struggle against the Turkish and Iraqi states respectively.
Farther north a line of Khalidi Imams led the armed resistance to the Russian conquest of Chechnya and Daghestan. The last, Imam Shamil, engaged the imperial army for a quarter of a century before capitulating in 1859. The struggle against Russian and Soviet rule has continued intermittently under various combinations of Naqshbandi and Qadiri lineages to this day. Finally, the Khalidiyya was brought to the East Indies through pilgrims who had joined it in the Hijaz. Masters such as Isma‘il Minangkabawi and Abdulwahhab Rokan spread the path in the Archipelago, gaining a following among ruling elites and peasants alike.
The Khalidi literature is vast and constantly growing. Its large output was enhanced by the introduction of printing into the Ottoman Empire and the Muslim world at large, and on the other hand by the need to respond to the challenges of its formidable rivals, be they Islamic fundamentalism, secularism, or Western culture. The polemical tone adopted by the Khalidiyya is already apparent in its two foundational texts: Baghdadi’s al-Hadiqa al- nadiyya fi adab al-tariqa al-Naqshbandiyya wa’l-bahja al-Khalidiyya (The Delicate Garden on the Manners of the Naqshbandi Path and the Khalidi Joy), which was written under Khalid’s supervision, and Khani’s al-Bahja al-saniyya fi adab al-tariqa al-‘aliyya al-Khalidiyya al-Naqshbandiyya (The Exalted Joy in the Manners of the Lofty Khalidi Naqshbandi Path), the work of his principal deputy in Damascus.
These foundational texts were augmented in due course by numerous works in the variety of genres we have encountered in the previous periods, such as general and thematic treatises, collections of letters, hagiographies, and biographical dictionaries. Notable among the last-named is ‘Abd
al-Majid al-Khani’s al-Hada’iq al-wardiyya fi haqa’iq ajilla’ al- Naqshbandiyya (The Rose Gardens Concerning the Truths of the Venerable Naqshbandis), a construction of the history of the brotherhood from its Central Asian beginnings to the Khani family of Damascus. In this period we also encounter more allusions to the brotherhood in “secular” documents, thanks partly to its political involvement, as well as in Western sources such as official reports and travelers’ accounts, which reflect the growing interest in the “Orient”. These have been merged with the still few anthropological and my own observations of contemporary active Naqshbandi centers.
Our knowledge of the Khalidiyya far surpasses that of the earlier stages of the Naqshbandiyya. There are detailed studies on the work of Khalid, as well as his successors in the Ottoman Empire and increasingly also in the Arab lands. Less known is the working of the contemporary Mujaddidi branches in India, and less still of the original Naqshbandi affiliations in Central Asia or China.
Diya’ al-Din Khalid
Although closer to us in time, Khalid left no mark in the collective Muslim memory comparable to the heritage of his illustrious predecessors, ‘Ubaydul- lah Ahrar in Central Asia or Ahmad Sirhindi in India. This is partly because in the successor states of the Ottoman Empire, secular Turkey and the Arab countries with their hegemonic nationalist-Salafi discourse, there was hostility to his legacy, and partly because of his own discreet modes of operation. Only with the recent resurfacing of the brotherhood in some of these countries have historians discovered Khalid’s importance in the revival of Islam on the eve of the modern era, and the Khalidiyya’s role in the modernization of the Ottoman Empire in general.
In many respects Khalid’s career represents the culmination of the Naqshbandi enterprise. In him were united, and elaborated in the most complete manner, the two foundations of the brotherhood: its socio-political activism and its commitment to orthodoxy. Despite the various suspicions and enmities that he faced, and his own peripheral background, Khalid managed time and again to influence the men in authority to follow the shari‘a for the sake of the Muslim community, directly in the provinces through which he wandered and indirectly in Istanbul. At the same time, as a religious scholar in his own right he embodied in his highly mystical path the subservience of the tariqa to the shari‘a and to the Prophet’s Sunna. Within the general movement for revival and reform of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, the Khalidiyya distinguished itself by its independent work in the urban centers of the Empire, as against the Khalwatiyya, which remained more subservient to the local government in Egypt, or the followers of the North African reformist Sufi Ahmad ibn Idris, who directed
their missionary activity to the peripheral areas of the Sahara and the Sudan.1
Diya’ al-Din Khalid (1776–1827)2 was born in the town of Qaradagh in the Shahrizur district of Iraqi Kurdistan. After completing his religious studies he became a teacher in Sulaymaniyya, which was then capital of the Kurdish Baban amirate, and in 1806 he made the hajj via Damascus. Apparently a witness to the Wahhabi takeover of the Holy Cities, Khalid departed three years later to India to be initiated into the Naqshbandi path at the hands of the foremost Mujaddidi master in Delhi, Shah Ghulam ‘Ali. Following a year of training, the Indian master conferred on him “full and absolute succession” and instructed him to spread the path in western Asia. Back in Sulaymaniyya, Khalid contracted the enmity of the leading Sufi master in the city, the powerful Ma‘ruf al-Barzinji of the Qadiriyya brotherhood, and was forced to leave in 1813 for Baghdad. There he gained the patronage of the Kurdish Haydari family, and many ulama and notables followed their example and became his disciples. For them, as for the Ottoman governor, Khalid’s path offered a viable alternative to the Wahhabi-type ideas that had spread in the city in the previous decades. This success brought about the birth of the distinct Khalidiyya offshoot.3
Following a change of rulers in the Baban amirate, and the new ruler’s wish to normalize relations with Baghdad, Khalid was invited to return and establish himself in Sulaymaniyya. In the succeeding years he ordained a large number of deputies, who spread the path in the urban centers of Kurdistan and Anatolia and gained the support of several Kurdish princely families. However, as the pressure of his Qadiri rivals mounted4 Khalid returned to Baghdad and then, in 1822, with many of his deputies, he went to Damascus. In the Syrian capital the notable Ghazzi family took him under their wing, and numerous ulama and notables received the path from him. They included Husayn al-Muradi, the then head of this illustrious Mujaddidi family. For these dignitaries, the orthodox tradition that Khalid offered came to represent the prospect of reinstating law and order, so vulnerable in Damascus at the time. In the remaining five years before his death in a plague in 1827, Khalid worked for the religious revival of the city.
Khalid had never visited Istanbul, but from around 1820 he began to dispatch deputies to the Ottoman capital, possibly in preparation for his own arrival which, because of his premature death, could not materialize. His emissaries won many adherents among Kurdish immigrants to the city and also its venerable religious scholars and dignitaries. The latter included such prominent figures as the seyhulislam and the Chief Judge of Istanbul, as well as influential bureaucrats. The rigor of the newcomers was bound to arouse the jealousy of other Sufi masters; it also awakened apprehensions on the part of Sultan Mahmud II, who saw in their orthodox-activist zeal a potential threat to his absolute authority. Nevertheless, the Khalidis supported the reforming measures of the sultan, deeming them necessary
for the preservation of the Muslim state and community in the face of both the Western and the internal Wahhabi threats. Accordingly, in 1826 they encouraged the ulama and senior bureaucracy to approve the elimination of the moribund Janissary corps, which stood in the way of the Ottoman Empire’s modernization. Shortly thereafter the heterodox Bektashi brotherhood, the ally of the Janissaries, was abolished, and a general mood of orthodoxy came to prevail among the elite of Istanbul.5
Following the lead of his eighteenth-century Indian predecessors, Khalid showed little interest in the Sufi sciences. Instead, he distinguished himself in the complementary domains of religious learning and the organization of the brotherhood, which earned him the epithet dhu al-janahayn – the possessor of the two wings, the scholarly and the mystical. As an alim, Khalid eventually reversed Sirhindi’s emphasis on the “inner” aspect of the shari‘a and cherished the sciences of jurisprudence and theology as elaborated by the religious scholars throughout the ages.6 Phrases such as the following appear time and again in his letters to deputies:
I say: the follower of the path before he drinks from this spring and his soul is elevated to take from this drink must correct his creed and buttress his conviction in the unity of the necessarily existent [God] in accordance with what the rational theologians sanctioned on the basis of the Sunna and the [consensus of] the community, such as the Ash‘aris and Maturidis from among the Hanafis and Shafi‘is.7
Khalid’s initial success lay apparently in his profound religious erudition which won him, although a stranger, the respect and support of the leading ulama wherever he went. Thus, on arrival in Damascus he was tested by the local men of religion, and later was asked by them to compose an epistle on the theological question of predestination vs. free will. This gave Khalid the opportunity to ground his Naqshbandi activism in the Maturidi doctrine of kasb (acquisition), according to which man is the doer of his actions and therefore is responsible for his fate.8
More important still were the organizational innovations that Khalid introduced into the Naqshbandi-Mujaddidi path, the hallmark of the distinct Khalidiyya. One such innovation concerned the practice of khalwa (seclusion). In contrast to the reserved attitude of past Naqshbandi masters, Khalid referred the initial instruction of the disciples to his deputies, and then gave them concentrated training during a seclusion period of forty days. This method allowed him to ordain a large number of disciples in the shortest time, and thus promoted the spread of the Khalidiyya. In all, he is said to have ordained 116 deputies, assigning to each, apparently in imitation of the Indian practice, a carefully delineated region.
A complementary innovation concerned the spiritual method of rabita. Practically replacing the customary accompaniment, Khalid demanded that
all Khalidi disciples, including those who had never seen him, concentrate in their imagination solely on his figure. This measure was designed to consolidate the new offshoot under the leadership of its founder. It met, however, with opposition on the part of deputies, particularly those working away from the master: ‘Abd al-Wahhab al-Susi, Khalid’s successful deputy in Istanbul, who was ultimately expelled from the brotherhood, and Isma‘il Shirwani in the Caucasus; they felt that their spiritual independence was curtailed by the practice. In a letter of reproach to the latter, Khalid writes:
The masters of our path declared that rabita to him who has not passed away from his being is of no avail to the follower of the path, but may put him in danger. . . The master who has attained realization is an intermediary between the seeker and his Lord. Turning away from him entails turning away from Him. Don’t teach anyone to bind his heart to your figure; even if it appears to him, it is the devil’s deceit. And don’t ordain anyone as your deputy unless it is my order . . . If you persevere in this neglect, we will discard you altogether.9
The rabita was also criticized by many ulama, who saw it as getting dangerously close to unlawful saint worship. These controversies spawned a plethora of epistles for and against the practice, beginning with Khalid himself and continuing after him, especially in discussing bondage to dead masters (rabitat al-mawt).10 A third organizational innovation was ghalq al-bab (closing the door) during khatm al-khwajagan, the litany concluding the dhikr session. A kind of extension of the silent dhikr, this practice was meant to give the new brotherhood a more exclusive character. Together, these innovations helped Khalid to turn his brotherhood into an effective socioreligious movement, whose aim was to support the Ottoman government’s effort to modernize while keeping it within the bounds of the shari'a in the service of the Muslim community.11
The late Ottoman Empire
Despite the continuing misgivings of Sultan Mahmud II, the Khalidiyya, like the Naqshbandiyya and the Mujaddidiyya before it, struck deep roots in Istanbul. Owing to its activity, by the mid-nineteenth century the Naqshbandiyya had become the most widespread brotherhood in the Ottoman capital, and a succession of able masters reinforced its prestige down to the end of the Empire. Naqshbandi influence was discernable in particular in the formation of Mahmud II’s son and successor, Sultan Abdulmecid (1839-1861). One of the tutors of the young prince was a Khalidi adept; and many of the high bureaucrats who had been attracted to
the orthodox ideals of the Khalidiyya during his father’s lifetime continued to serve him in his early years on the throne.
Abdulmecid’s mother and sister also belonged to the Naqshbandiyya. They were followers of the Indian Muhammad Jan (d. 1850), another deputy of Ghulam ‘Ali who had settled in Mecca in the late 1820s. More moderate than Khalid, Jan too sent emissaries to Istanbul, and through them established contacts in the highest echelons. As Abu-Manneh has shown, a Naqshbandi-inspired orthodoxy stood behind the Gulhane rescript of 1839, in which the new sultan pledged to follow the shari'a and implement a rule of justice for all his subjects.
The enduring commitment of Sultan Abdulmecid to the Naqshbandiyya was demonstrated in the building of a mausoleum and a large lodge over Khalid’s tomb in Damascus in the 1840s and in his frequent visits in the following decade to the Khalidi lodge in Fatih, where he requested that a weekly khatm al-khwajagan be performed at his grave after his death. The practice apparently continued until the abolition of the brotherhoods in 1925.
Yet with the transfer of actual power in the Ottoman Empire from the early 1850s on from the Palace to the Sublime Porte, which at that time was coming under Western political influence, the Naqshbandi position was considerably weakened. In the imperial edict of 1856, which was dictated by the Western allies following the Crimean War, civil and political equality were granted to the non-Muslim subjects of the sultan in direct contravention of the shari'a. Khalidis played a leading role in the resistance to this edict, and one of them, the Kurdish scholar Ahmad al-Sulaymani, headed the Society of Zealots which in 1859 was accused of hatching a conspiracy against the government.12 As will be shown, Khalidi influence was apparent in the teachings of the oppositional Young Ottoman movement.
The Naqshbandiyya in general and its Khalidi offshoot in particular were able to reassert themselves in the Ottoman capital in the late 1870s, as political power shifted back to the Palace. Many of them became harnessed to the (Pan-) Islamic policy inaugurated by Sultan Abdulhamid II (1876-1909) following his prorogation of the first Ottoman constitution in 1876. Two major components of this policy were the sultan’s posture as the Caliph of all Muslims, by means of which he strove to fortify his legitimacy, and his patronage of the Sufi brotherhoods, which he regarded as a vital channel of communication to his people.13 Thus, as early as 1878 Abdulhamid renovated the Bukhari lodge in the Sultan Ahmet quarter and employed its head as an emissary to the Khanate of Bukhara.14 Similarly, the last descendant of ‘Abdullah Nida’i to head the Kashghari lodge, Mehmed ‘Ashir (d. 1903), was appointed member of the prestigious Council of Sufi Masters.15
On the other hand, Khalidis who opposed the autocratic regime of Sultan Abdulhamid II, and apparently also the Westernized state reforms, which greatly accelerated during the Hamidian period, were dealt with severely.
Figure 6.1 Major Mujaddidi and Khalidi influences in Istanbul
This was especially the case with the popular Kurdish master Mehmed As’ad Irbili (d. 1931), who after heading another lodge in Istanbul for a decade was banished in 1897 to his hometown in Iraqi Kurdistan. He returned after the revolution of 1908 and joined the Sufi association that favored the Young Turk movement. The association was founded by Musa Kazim, a Khalidi follower known for his reformist inclinations, especially in the field of education. He served twice as seyhulislam under the Young Turks, the second term covering the last two and a half years of the empire.16
At the forefront of the Naqshbandi masters who opted for complete loyalty to the autocratic rule of Sultan Abdulhamid II was Ahmed Ziyauddin Gumushanevi (d. 1894). Born in 1818 into a merchant family from northeastern Anatolia, Gumushanevi went to Istanbul to complete his religious studies and remained as a teacher. He claimed to have been initiated into the Khalidiyya and ordained as deputy by Sulayman al-Urwadi, a Syrian follower of Khalid who visited the Ottoman capital in 1846. Only more than fifteen years later, however, after completing his two main works - a collection of hadith and a compendium of the Sufi brotherhoods - did Gumushanevi embark on a career as a Sufi master. His numerous deputies were mostly Turks from western Anatolia, along with some immigrants from the Caucasus and residents of other Muslim lands, notably Kazan and Egypt.
In defiance of the late Tanzimat Westernized statesmen, Gumushanevi established his lodge directly opposite the Porte. In 1877-1878, he along with a group of disciples, fought in person in the Russo-Ottoman war. His loyalty won him the favor of the sultan, into whose presence he was sometimes invited, as well as many followers among the government officials. One of his deputies was sent to Peking to preside over the Hamidiyya Islamic university there.17 Gumushanevi departed from Khalid’s teachings in some significant respects. For one, instead of the shari‘a he emphasized the study of hadith, especially those traditions that supported absolute obedience to the SultanCaliph. For another, he adhered to the doctrine of wahdat al-wujud and authorized the vocal dhikr, which brought his branch closer to other Sufi brotherhoods. Thus, in a simplified exposition of Ibn ‘Arabi’s teaching he writes:
The secrets of the existential unity (tawhid wujudi) might be revealed.
The source of this is that because of the abundance of spiritual worship and exercises, the abandonment of books and desires, the permanence of dhikr and meditation, the seizure of passionate love, love to the true beloved, [because of all these] it appears to the follower of the path. His heart is attracted and turned toward the Holy. If these exercises and abandonment are in accord with the Prophet’s followers his interior will become purified from evil connections and his heart emptied from the filth of heedlessness to such a degree that
his innermost will become like mirrors reflecting the essential names and attributes.18
These innovations were to characterize the revival of the Khalidiyya in Istanbul in the second half of the twentieth century, as it espoused integration with, rather than opposition to, the republican political system.19
The Khalidiyya made no comparable headway in the European parts of the Ottoman Empire. One lodge of the brotherhood was established in Sarajevo in the mid-nineteenth century, but by the 1970s, when Algar visited it, the place was closed and in a state of neglect. Another lodge was built in nearby Visoko shortly before the First World War by the Sufi scholar Husni Numanagic (d. 1931), the most eminent religious figure in Bosnia at the time. Numanagic pursued his studies in Istanbul, Medina, and Cairo, and worked as a teacher in Visoko before he was appointed mufti of Travnik. All Bosnian lineages regarded the Qadiriyya as a twin, or even the senior brotherhood, and practiced vocal dhikr in their lodges. There are also some Shi’i elements in their devotional life. The activity of the Naqshbandi lodges in Bosnia was interrupted during the Second World War, and in 1952 they were officially dissolved, though the order was hardly enforced.20 No such measures were taken in Kosovo and Macedonia, where the center of activity moved from Skopje to the Albanian-dominated Djakovica. The lodge that operates in the latter city was founded in 1932 by Shaykh Jakup, who received the path from Mehmed As’ad Irbili in Istanbul; it was taken in due course by his son, Mehmed Ali Isnici, who dedicated himself to the defense of Sufism.21
The Arab world
Although two decisive landmarks in the career of Diya’ al-Din Khalid, official hostility in Baghdad and Damascus, and the rather short period of time he spent in each, left his mission incomplete. The work of Khalid’s successors in the provinces of Iraq and Syria remained to the end of the Ottoman Empire dependent on the political vicissitudes in Istanbul, a fact that also exacerbated the recurrent struggles among them over the leadership. Only toward the end of the nineteenth century did Khalidi masters manage to consolidate the position of the brotherhood in these provinces, while facing the rising challenges of modernity and fundamentalism. In the Hijaz, by contrast, and especially in Mecca, already by the 1820s Khalid’s deputies perceptibly strengthened the Naqshbandi presence and radiated his message far and wide, from Istanbul to Indonesia. Here they competed among themselves, but also with masters of the Mujaddidi mother brotherhood, which since 1858 included Sirhindi’s descendants from Delhi. By the end of the nineteenth century the Naqshbandiyya was also implanted in Egypt through three separate lineages originating in Istanbul, the Haramayn, and Kurdistan.
Upon his abrupt departure from Baghdad in late 1822, Khalid left behind a collective leadership, with an emphatic warning to keep clear of politics. The senior figure in this group of disciples was ‘Abd al-Ghafur al- Mushahidi. The position of the Iraqi Khalidiyya was greatly enhanced after the inauguration of the Tanzimat reforms, when the governor took them under his wing and built a magnificent lodge for their use. Concomitantly, and to the end of the empire, the heads of the brotherhood in Baghdad engaged in an ongoing struggle with two rising trends in Iraq’s religious scene, the fundamentalist Wahhabiyya-turned-Salafiyya, which was led by the Alusi family, and the Shi'a. The circumstances that led to the surfacing of the long controversy with Abu al-Thana’ al-Alusi, the founder of the family who had studied with Khalid in his youth, are somewhat apologetically described by a prominent scion of the Haydari family that had originally patronized Khalid in Baghdad:
The educated scholar who is known as Alusi, may God forgive him, composed an epistle against the successors of our master Khalid, may God preserve his secret, when the governor of Baghdad Muhammad Najib Pasha dismissed him from his post as jurisconsult. He [Alusi] wrote against the exalted Khalidi brotherhood, because the said minister belonged to His Highness our master Khalid . . . He destroyed the Khalidi shrine in Baghdad and built it anew in a better way . . . Alusi composed this epistle because of his low opinion that the Khalidi successors urged him [the governor] to dismiss him, but this is far from true.22
Following the death of Mushahidi in 1862 a fierce struggle broke out over the leadership of the Baghdadi Khalidiyya, which was ultimately resolved by inviting an outsider master to head its lodge. This, in his turn, conferred the task to the Sufi scholar Da’ud ibn Sulayman ibn Jirjis (1812/1816-1881), who dedicated himself to the refutation of the Salafi creed. In a series of treatises he penned against the Salafis during the 1870s, Ibn Jirjis defended the Sufi customs of visiting saints’ tombs and seeking their intercession, as well as the orthodox learned practices of following the schools of law and imitating their authorities (taqlid ).23
Ibn Jirjis was succeeded by a no less reputable scholar, Muhammad Sa‘id (d. 1920), who however had a second Khalidi authorization from the prominent Kurdish master ‘Umar Diya’ al-Din of Hawraman.24 Author of a compendium on Islamic sciences, Sa'id turned much of his energies to containing the spread of the Shi‘a in Iraq. This struggle secured him the patronage of Sultan Abdulhamid II, who built for him a college in the major Shi'i concentration of Samarra. Subsequently he was rewarded with the lucrative position of teacher and preacher in the Abu Hanifa mosque in Baghdad, which he filled for two decades. In the wake of the Young Turk revolution of 1908,
Sa’id engaged in politics. He became head of the clandestine Arab nationalist al-Ahd society in 1914 and instigated actions against the British presence in Iraq following the Ottoman departure in 1918. The genealogical lines of most contemporary Naqshbandi masters in the Arab parts of the country return to him. No study has been done so far on the role of the Khalidiyya in other parts of Arab Iraq or on its activity during the Mandate period and after independence.25
The untimely death of Khalid in the course of a plague in 1827 left the Khalidiyya of Damascus in an even more vulnerable situation. Many of his senior deputies were carried off with him and a year later the rest of those who had accompanied him from Iraq were sent back there on the orders of Sultan Mahmud II. Consequently leadership devolved into the hands of Muhammad al-Khani (d. 1862), the most senior of Khalid’s few Arab Syrian deputies. Hailing from a small town near Hama, Khani found it difficult to integrate into the religious elite of Damascus, and most of his deputies were Kurds or Turks. His claim to be the designated head of the entire Khalidiyya was challenged by Khalid’s younger brother, Mahmud al-Sahib (d. 1866), who settled in Damascus in 1840 under the aegis of Sultan Abdulmecid.26 The other Syrian Arab deputies of Khalid, Sulayman al-Urwadi (d. 1858), whom we have encountered as Gumushanevi’s master, and Ahmad al-Tizkili (d. 1867), established independent centers in Tripoli and Homs respectively. The center in Tripoli died out in the 1850s, but that of Homs was to play a century later an important role in the formation of the northern Syrian society of the Muslim Brothers.
Meanwhile, in Damascus the dispute over the leadership of the Khalidiyya was brought to a head by As'ad al-Sahib (d. 1928), Mahmud’s son and Khalid’s nephew, who in the name of orthodoxy was harnessed to the Islamic policies of Abdulhamid. His adversary was Muhammad al-Khani the younger (d. 1898), who was associated with the local reformist circle of the celebrated amir ‘Abd al-Qadir al-Jaza’iri (d. 1883). Jaza’iri had been initiated into the Naqshbandiyya by Khalid in his youth and combined the teaching of Ibn ‘Arabi with a quest for modernity. Toward the end of the nineteenth century his followers moved to adopt the oppositional Salafi creed. Both sides made use of the new technology of print to advance their claims, Sahib publishing the foundational texts of the Khalidiyya under official patronage, the Khanis printing their works privately in Egypt. The delicate position of Muhammad al-Khani, who still regarded himself as head of the entire Khalidiyya, is reflected in the description by his son ‘Abd al-Majid (d. 1901), in his biographical dictionary:
He loved very much the Malamati way of concealing the secret, being agreeable to the people in their talk, movement and standing, equaling the religious scholars in his dress and appearance . . . He changed nothing even in the smallest detail from the system of the
exalted brotherhood from what it was in the days of our master [Khalid], may God sanctify his noble secret. He did not allow, and will never allow any of the seekers of the path to bind his heart but to the figure of our master, and strongly condemns those who allow it.27
Upon the death of Muhammad al-Khani, Sahib managed to deprive his son of the succession and took over their lodge. He was able also to retain his favored position with the Young Turks, who renovated his headquarters and sanctioned his publishing a large collection of Khalid’s letters in exchange for his support of their regime.28
The most outstanding Khalidi master in Damascus during the Hamidian period, however, was the immigrant ‘Isa al-Kurdi (d. 1912). He arrived to the city from the Diyarbakr region in 1878 and settled in the Kurdish quarter, where he dedicated himself to religious instruction and Sufi guidance and gained a large number of followers. ‘Isa appreciated the mystical writings of Gumushanevi, his contemporary from Istanbul, but clung to the traditional Naqshbandi stress on the shari'a rather than on hadith and denounced Sufi practices that contravened it. Less hostile than Ibn Jirjis, his Iraqi colleague, to the emergent Salafi trend, he still approved of visiting saints’ tombs and condemned the use of ijtihad as rational deliberation. Faithful but not servile to the sultan, ‘Isa feared most that Sufism would succumb to the combined pressures of modernity and fundamentalism, and added some new emphases to the Naqshbandi path to sustain it. He required his deputies to conceal their path from outsiders and keep close connections between themselves; on the other hand, he centered much of his effort on the less affected urban lower classes and the countryside. This conservative populism and the discreet collective leadership he cherished paved the way for a transformation in the Syrian Naqshbandiyya in the twentieth century.29
Khalid counted among his followers the Hanafi mufti of Jerusalem, who belonged to the celebrated Husayni family, but the only Naqshbandi center which continued to operate in Palestine after him was that at the Uzbeki lodge. Its membership was enlarged at the end of the nineteenth century by adepts from the Central Asian khanates who refused to live under infidel Russian rule. One of these refugees, Rashid al-Bukhari, established the lineage that ran the lodge throughout the twentieth century. The weekly session was interrupted in 1968 in the wake of the Six-Day War, which cut the lodge off from the bulk of its community of adherents in Amman, but later its activity was renewed.30
No detailed studies are available on the Naqshbandiyya and its Khalidi offshoot in nineteenth-century Hijaz. Here we must be content with highlighting some landmarks, mostly on the basis of outside sources. Khalid appointed two deputies to the Holy Cities, the foremost being ‘Abdallah al- Arzinjani in Mecca, whose influence on Istanbul has already been noted and who introduced the Khalidiyya into Indonesia. He was followed by the
Mujaddidi Muhammad Jan, the master of Sultan Abdulmecid’s mother. The presence of the Mujaddidiyya in the Haramayn was further strengthened with the arrival in 1858 of the then head of the lodge in Delhi, Ahmad Sa'id (d. 1860). A descendant of Sirhindi, Sa'id spent the last two years of his life in Medina, where he continued to guide disciples on the path. He was succeeded by his three surviving sons, two of whom remained in the Hijaz and established their own family lineages, while the third returned to India shortly before his death.31
The Dutch scholar Snouck Hurgronje, who arrived in Mecca in 1885 to study the Indonesian residents and pilgrims, mentions four Naqshbandi masters then active in the city, two Khalidis belonging to Arzinjani’s line and two Mujaddidis (see Figure 6.2). The Khalidi masters were more popular and competed among themselves for disciples.32 Manzilawi, who translated into Arabic Kashifi’s Rashahat ‘ayn al-hayat and Sirhindi’s Maktubat, describes his master, Zawawi, and the challenges a Sufi master had to face at that time:
He, may God protect him, was very strict in the training and advancing of the brothers, urging them to exert themselves on the path in their words and states. Moreover, he often assisted them with his money, saying that if a poor man to whom no one pays attention comes to me to receive the path, I like him more than fifty intelligent men who ask to study with me . . .
He said: some people say: how can we waste five years or six years in attaining this path, while it is not certain whether you will get it during this period or not. This saying points to their remoteness from the field of felicity. If a man withholds from giving five years of his life for the search of God most praised and high, in what will he spend his entire life?33
Naqshbandi activity in Mecca and Medina, and the Sufi presence in the Hijaz in general, were brought to an end, at least publicly, in 1925, following the Saudi takeover of the Holy Places and their subjection to Wahhabi doctrine.
One of the earliest Naqshbandi masters to propagate the path in Egypt was Ahmad al-Dimyati (d. 1715), who had received it while in Arabia from a deputy of Tajuddin al-‘Uthmani. Two other Naqshbandi lodges became active in Cairo in the early nineteenth century, the one inhabited by Anatolian Turks and the other by Central Asians. Only after mid-century, however, and especially since the 1880s, did the brotherhood establish a more permanent basis in Egypt. This was due to the combined endeavors of several masters. One was Gumushanevi, who appointed two local deputies: the Turk Ahmad ‘Ashiq, for whom Khediv ‘Abbas (1848-1854) had built a lodge in Cairo in 1851, and the Arab Juda Ibrahim, who after his ordination during the master’s visit to Egypt in 1876 won a following in the Delta region.
Figure 6.2 Principal Naqshbandi masters in nineteenth-century Haramayn
Another master was the Sudanese Isma‘il al-Sinnari, who had been initiated into both the Mujaddidiyya and the Khalidiyya in the Hijaz and who established his own branch in Sudan and Upper Egypt.
The last, and most consequential, Khalidi master in Egypt was Muhammad Amin al-Kurdi (d. 1914), another deputy of ‘Umar Diya’ al-Din of Hawraman who had settled in Cairo in 1886 and began to propagate the path a decade later. A religious scholar of note, he taught at al-Azhar and authored several books presenting the Naqshbandiyya and Islamic law.34 Amin attracted a considerable following in Cairo and in the rural areas to the north. As his biographer vividly informs us:
His effort in God and his patience with affliction bore fruit. Wellwishers flocked to him from every place and seekers of the Truth hurried to him from every direction. The Khalidi attractions and the Naqshbandi blessings overflowed from the seas of his pure heart to the barren heart of the Seekers and those who sat with him . . . His instruction of the path was not confined to one stratum of society, but his sea brought sweetness to everyone who came: the scholar and the student, the rich and the poor, the peasant and the worker. To each one of them he was the compassionate father, the trusted adviser, and the supporter in religious and worldly affairs, now in guidance and prayer and now in money or rank, as best he could.35
Plate 6.1 Amin al-Kurdi’s shrine in Cairo
Most branches of the Egyptian Naqshbandiyya continued to expand during the twentieth century, despite recurrent splits. Their prosperity was facilitated by the relaxation of control by the state-sponsored central Sufi authority, which had favored the established brotherhoods, after the British conquest of the country in 1882. This entailed, however, a far-reaching adaptation to the popular mystical traditions prevalent among the Egyptians. The Judiyya and the followers of Sinnari have both adopted the vocal dhikr at the expense of the silent one, and participate along with other brotherhoods in saints’ birthday ceremonies (mawlids) and other public celebrations. Amin al-Kurdi too was integrated into Egyptian society, though his family branch, conducted by his son and grandson after him, apparently appeals to higher strata of society.36 Though more successful than previous Naqshbandi branches, the Khalidiyya also failed to expand farther west to North Africa or to Muslim lands south of the Sahara.
Kurdistan
Most of Khalid’s deputies were ethnic Kurds like him, and it was largely through their efforts that the Khalidiyya was disseminated in the Ottoman lands. In Kurdistan itself, as we have seen, Khalid had appointed deputies for the urban centers, assigning to each of them a specific territorial jurisdiction. His initial endeavor received a great boost from the 1830s on, when the indigenous Kurdish amirates were eliminated by the Ottoman reformers and European influence intensified. Khalidi masters, mostly with some parallel Qadiri affiliation, moved in to fill the vacuum and acquired enormous power and wealth as religious leaders and mediators. Their political influence peaked in the period lasting from ‘Ubaydullah of Nehri’s short-lived campaign to establish a Kurdish principality on Iranian soil in 1880 to Said of Palu’s revolt against the newly founded secular Turkish republic in 1925.
Thereafter the fortunes of the Khalidiyya varied according to country. In Turkey it was outlawed, together with all other Sufi brotherhoods, in the wake of the Shaykh Said revolt, but it resurfaced following the liberalization of the 1950s; in Iraq and Iran Kurdish resistance movements to the centralizing policies of the Ba‘th and to the Islamic regime of Khomeini were respectively organized by the Khalidi lineages of Barzani and Hawraman; in Syria, by contrast, Kurdish Khalidi resident masters and refugees from the neighboring countries normally cooperated with those in power.
The Naqshbandi presence in Kurdistan predated Khalid by some three centuries. Its introduction there was associated primarily with refugees from Safavid Iran. Among them was the seventeenth-century ‘Aziz Mahmud, son of an influential Naqshbandi family from Urumia who established himself in Diyarbakr. From this strategically located town his reputation spread throughout Kurdistan and beyond, the number of his followers was reported to exceed 40,000. Most of them were common people, on whose behalf
Mahmud sought relief from excessive taxation. But there were also high officials and big merchants who came to pay their respects. In the name of Sunni orthodoxy Mahmud supported the Ottoman war against the Safavids, and took part in Sultan Murad IV’s 1635 campaign on Yerivan.
Nevertheless, on the way back from his next Persian campaign in 1639, in which he wrested back Baghdad, Murad had the master executed, apparently out of fear of his great popularity and because of rumors that he was preparing a messianic rebellion. Mahmud’s son and grandson retained much of his power, but were more interested in poetry and music than in training disciples and the lineage died out. The celebrated Turkish traveler Evliya ^elebi mentions Naqshbandi lodges in five other cities in mid-seventeenth-century Kurdistan, among them one for Indians and Central Asians. Like Mahmud, all these masters belonged to the original Naqshbandiyya, while hardly any of them was a Kurd.37
Until the early nineteenth century the dominant brotherhood in Kurdistan was the Qadiriyya. Khalid’s missionary work in these regions during the 1810s challenged this supremacy, and his success was such that even Qadiri masters were converted to his path. His numerous deputies established secondary centers in their home cities and towns, forming a wide network that covered Kurdistan and the adjacent areas. This process was accelerated after the death of the founder, when no longer impeded by his endeavor to create a unified brotherhood, his followers turned their lodges into frequently clashing independent regional cults, and themselves into objects of unparalleled veneration. Many combined the Khalidiyya with some Qadiri affiliation, while others turned into antinomian sects.
The destruction of the semi-autonomous Kurdish amirates, European penetration, and the resurfacing of tribalism in the course of the nineteenth century enabled the Khalidi lineages to extend their authority over the tribes. Consolidating their position as landlord families, they did not hesitate to exploit their countrymen in quest of political power and wealth. Such were the saintly families from Hawraman, Nehri, Palu, and Barzani, which supplied the leadership for a succession of Kurdish religious-national rebellions, some of them with millenarian overtones, against the Ottomans and their twentieth-century successors in Turkey and Iraq.38
Among the prominent Khalidi lineages of Kurdistan pride of place goes to the Siraj al-Din family of Tawila, in the Hawraman region near Halabja. Its ancestor, ‘Uthman Siraj al-Din I (d. 1867), had studied with Khalid in his youth, and in due course became his first deputy. He accompanied the master for a decade before returning in 1820 to his hometown, where he established one of the major centers for the spread of the Khalidiyya in Kurdistan. The usually laconic Haydari writes:
He had many dazzling miracles and visible amazing supernatural deeds. The elite and common people testified to his sainthood. He
became famous among the people, and many distinguished religious scholars and the most respected virtuous and pious followed the path under his hand. Many Jews and Christians were converted to Islam through his attention and heed, followed the path in his logde, and attained mystical states. The condition of this saint was mostly intoxication and majesty.39
In recognition of his position, Siraj al-Din was invited in 1838 by the Baban ruler to supervise the Khalidi lodge in Sulaymaniyya. Like his master, whom he survived by four decades, ‘Uthman ordained a large number of deputies and determined the direction of his lineage. By appointing two of his sons as successors he confirmed its hereditary character, and by sending his grandson, ‘Umar Diya’ al-Din (d. 1901), to be trained at the lodge of an influential Qadiri master in Kirkuk, he established a firm bond between the two traditions in Iraqi Kurdistan. ‘Umar, whom we have met as the master of both Muhammad Sa‘id of Baghdad and Amin al-Kurdi in Cairo, introduced the vocal dhikr into his branch and was known for his enthusiasm for science, education, and poetry.
During the first half of the twentieth century the Hawraman lineage was successively headed by two brothers: Najm al-Din (d. 1918), who is most remembered for his refusal to receive a monthly stipend from Sultan Abdulhamid, and ‘Ala’ al-Din (d. 1954), who supported the Kurdish national struggle in Iraq. With the latter the Naqshbandi and Qadiri traditions were fully merged. The last master in this lineage, ‘Uthman Siraj al-Din II, was a religious scholar, a poet, and a practicing physician. He left Iraq in 1959 following the military coup that put an end to the monarchy. Residing for two decades in Iranian Kurdistan, he returned in the wake of the Islamic Revolution in 1979 after organizing a resistance force from among his followers. ‘Uthman spent the last years of his life in Istanbul, where he died in 1997 without appointing a successor.40 There have recently been reports that Ansar al-Islam, an Islamist group connected with al-Qa‘ida, desecrated the lodges and tombs of the Naqshbandi masters in Hawraman and drove the population out of their homes.41
‘Ubaydallah of Nehri, the leader of the first Kurdish rebellion with nationalist overtones in 1880, belonged to a saintly family that boasted descent from the Prophet and from the founder of the Qadiriyya brotherhood, ‘Abd al-Qadir al-Jilani. In the early nineteenth century the family head became a deputy of Khalid, and in the 1840s his nephew Taha moved to the village of Nehri, on the Turkish-Iraqi-Iranian border. Concerned about the Russian southward drive, he participated in person in the jihad against it in the Crimean war and apparently sent warriors to support the resistance in Daghestan. His son ‘Ubaydullah continued in the same line and was nominated commander of the Kurdish tribal forces in the Russian-Ottoman war of 1877-1878.
Following the Ottoman defeat ‘Ubaydullah rebelled, and in 1880 sent an army across the Iranian border with the aim of establishing a Kurdish Sunni principality. The movement was suppressed within a few weeks, not before thousands of Azeri Shi’is were massacred in the city of Mahabad. Locally hailed as a hero, ‘Ubaydullah was summoned to Istanbul and, under foreign pressure, was exiled to Mecca where he died in 1883. His eldest son was allowed to return to Nehri, and his descendants continued to engage in the politics of Iraq, Turkey and Iran. Another son, ‘Abd al-Qadir, settled in Istanbul after the Young Turk revolution of 1908 and gained respect as the moral leader of the Kurdish community in the city. He was elected President of the Ottoman State Council, but in the aftermath of the 1925 rebellion he was hanged together with his son.42
Shaykh Said’s revolt was the most consequential of the Naqshbandi-led uprisings in Kurdistan, and a turning point in the evolution of Kurdish nationalism. It expressed a reaction to the secular and anti-Kurdish policies of Ataturk in general and to the abolition of the Caliphate by the Turkish National Assembly in 1924 in particular. The explicit aim of the revolt was to establish an independent Kurdish state in which Islamic law would be respected. Said was a scion of a saintly Qadiri family from Diyarbakr; his ancestor had been introduced into the Naqshbandiyya by a deputy of Khalid and accompanied the great master to Syria before settling as his deputy in the village of Palu, north of Diyarbakr. His sons and followers later dispersed among the Zaza-speaking Kurdish tribes, building their own lodges and acquiring land.
The groundwork for the revolt was prepared by the clandestine Azadi (freedom) organization, which had been founded by Kurdish army officers in 1923. Said supported their move and, after their arrest, mobilized his followers in the Zaza plains under his own military command. The revolt broke out in February and culminated in the unsuccessful siege of Diyarbakr. It was suppressed within two months. Said was intercepted at the end of April on his way to Iran and was executed with many other leaders of the revolt. In December 1925 an official order was issued to close all Sufi lodges and shrines in Turkey. Kurdish rebels who fled to the mountains continued a guerrilla campaign for years to come, and only after two more major rebellions, in Ararat in 1930 and in Dersim in 1938, was Turkish Kurdistan eventually pacified.43
In view of their persecution in Turkey, many Sufi masters fled to the adjacent Jazira region in northeast Syria, which as a result witnessed a conspicuous upsurge in religious sentiment during the 1920s and 1930s. Here they were used by the French Mandatory authorities as a counterbalance to the Kurdish nationalists. Others arrived in Damascus, where they were integrated into the lineage of ‘Isa al-Kurdi. Among the Khalidi masters who settled in the Syrian Jazira was Ahmad Ghiznawi of Tal Ma‘ruf, who had numerous followers on both sides of the border. The rapid economic
development of the region in the 1950s and 1960s greatly diminished the influence of these masters, though they kept their authority in less developed Turkish Kurdistan.44
In Iraq the Kurdish struggle for autonomy is generally associated with the Barzani family. Its origins go back to the mid-nineteenth century, when ‘Abd al-Rahman was sent by his master, Taha of Nehri, to settle in the village of Barzan, between Sulaymaniyya and Irbil. There he established a large following among the peasants of the region in the face of the hostile landlords. This social standing gained ‘Abd al-Rahman’s successors the unbounded loyalty of their disciples, who often came to consider them as Mahdis. On the other hand, they incurred the wrath of other Naqshbandi masters who preferred to ally with the urban and tribal elites. The clash between the two currents came to a head after the formation of the Iraqi state in 1921. The then head of the family, Ahmad Barzani, was proclaimed God incarnate by his disciples, to the indignation of rival Khalidi masters such as the influential Baha’ al-Din Bamrani, who could count among his disciples the king and the celebrated statesman Nuri Sa‘id. When the Iraqi government conquered the Kurdish area Ahmad and his non-shaykh brother Mustafa escaped to Iran. Both took part in the declaration of the Kurdish Republic of Mahabad in 1946. Following the military coup of 1958 Mustafa was invited to return to Iraq, but as relations between the government and the Kurds deteriorated he declared a war, which continued intermittently from 1961 until his defeat in 1975. During the struggle his rival Bamranis sided with Baghdad and actively fought the Kurdish nationalists.45
The North Caucasus
Another predominantly tribal area where the Naqshbandiyya-Khalidiyya struck roots in the first half of the nineteenth century was the northeast Caucasus. Here, its orthodox-activist ideals were eagerly adopted by the populations of Daghestan and Chechnya as a response to the disruption of their socio-economic fabric and traditional way of life by the imperial Russian advance. According to local tradition, the first Naqshbandi leader in these regions was the Chechen Shaykh Mansour, who led the mountain tribes in jihad against the Russians between 1785 and 1791, but it is doubtful whether he belonged to the brotherhood.
The Khalidiyya was introduced into the North Caucasus a quarter of a century later by Isma‘il al-Kurdemiri, an indigenous deputy of Khalid who established himself in Shirvan in today’s Azerbaijan. His foremost deputy in the neighboring land of Daghestan was the learned Muhammad al-Yaraghi who, together with his own deputy Jamal al-Din al-Ghazi Ghumuqi, spread the path farther west to the more superficially Islamized Chechnya. The aggressive anti-Islamic policy of the Russians ultimately forced Yaraghi in 1829 to give his sanction to jihad. The war was conducted by three successive
Imams, the last of whom, Shamil, established an Islamic state in the territories under his control and continued the resistance for almost three decades until his final capitulation in 1859.46
Kurdemiri, better known in his later life as al-Shirvani, was born in a small village near Baku. He traveled extensively in search of knowledge, and in 1813 became one of the first deputies of Khalid in Baghdad. He received a thorough mystic training, was ordained as “absolute deputy” in 1817, and
Figure 6.3 The Naqshbandi-Khalidi lineage in the North Caucasus
was then sent back to his native Shirvan. For more than eight years Kurdemiri-Shirvani preached the path in these quarters as well as in neighboring Daghestan. His success was such that he felt justified to ask his disciples to perform the rabita toward himself, though he repented after Khalid threatened to expel him from the brotherhood. Working in a predominantly Shi‘i country, he did insist on abandoning his master’s animosity toward the Sh‘ia in the name of Muslim unity. As the Russian government became aware of Shirvani’s role in inspiring the religious movement in Daghestan and Chechnya it banished two of his deputies to Siberia, while he himself was forced in 1826 to leave for the Ottoman Empire. He spent the last two decades of his life training disciples in eastern Anatolia, whereas his sons attained after him high posts in the Ottoman bureaucracy.47
Shirvani’s message was first introduced into Daghestan by a certain Khass Muhammad, who had met the master while on a journey to Bukhara. Khass was a student of one of the leading religious scholars in the country, Muhammad al-Yaraghi of Kurah, and it was he who in 1820 convinced the teacher to set off to Shirvan. Yaraghi was then introduced into the brotherhood and within a few weeks was made a deputy. On his return home he began preaching among his folk to repent, follow the shari‘a, and renounce worldly pleasures. His words fell on fertile ground and a wide religious revival soon encircled Daghestan. Subjected to severe economic depredations perpetrated by the Russian forces, and especially afflicted by the moral degradation of the hapless local rulers who had given themselves to drink, the people came to see “a return to Islam” as the way to salvation. The Naqsh- bandi doctrine was disseminated in the North Caucasus through Yaraghi’s outstanding disciple, Jamal al-Din al-Ghazi Ghumuki, who in 1824 left his position as secretary to the Khan of Kurah in order to follow the path. In a treatise he dedicated to the tariqa, Ghazi Ghumuki stressed the supremacy of the shari‘a and espoused the silent dhikr and the rabita, but he also made room for the vocal dhikr and especially restored the primary importance of accompanying the master (suhba).48
Still, the majority of those who responded to Yaraghi’s call did so because of its political implications. His followers in the villages of Kurah and throughout Daghestan overlooked his counsel to act with prudence in the face of the supreme Russian might, and to concentrate on the implementation of the shari‘a; they chose confrontation. The Russians demanded of the Khan to stop the agitation, and in 1825 both Yaraghi and Ghazi Ghumuqi were forced to seek refuge abroad. Meanwhile, the movement spread to Chechnya, where many came to see Yaraghi in the image of Shaykh Mansour. The Chechen revolt of 1825–1826 was led by a secular commander, but the Naqshbandiyya provided its ideological underpinnings. The commander had visited Yaraghi before the revolt and took back with him one of his adepts, Muhammad al-Quduqli, who laid the foundations for the Naqshbandi network in Chechnya. Quduqli adjusted the Khalidi message to
local messianic expectations, and promised the arrival of the Imam to herald the final war against the Russians. Later he announced that a fellow Naqshbandi and ultimately he himself was that Imam. The Khalidi involvement in the Chechen revolt remained mostly symbolic, providing an important source for its legitimization.
Following the departure of Yaraghi and Ghazi Ghumuqi in 1825, the center of Khalidi activity in Dagestan shifted to the less accessible rural communes of the mountains. In the following years, as Russia was preoccupied in successive wars against Qajar Iran and the Ottoman Empire, these communes were interwoven into an elaborate network of lodges which propagated the brotherhood and orthodox Islam in general. From the village of Gimra was to emerge the first Imam, Ghazi Muhammad, who turned the Khalidiyya into a religio-political movement in the face of the new Russian drive to complete the subjugation of the North Caucasus. Taking the path from Ghazi Ghumuqi, Muhammad returned to his village in 1827 and acquired the reputation of a religious reviver (mujaddid) owing to his struggle against corrupt rulers and un-Islamic customs.
At the beginning of 1830 Ghazi Muhammad declared that the time had come to start the campaign to implement the shari‘a, and after securing Yaraghi’s support against Ghazi Ghumuqi’s more circumspect view he united the Khalidi masters in Daghestan and Chechnya behind him. The campaign soon turned against the Russians, who brought in massive forces and by the end of 1832 took control of Chechnya and killed Ghazi Muhammad in his native Gimra. His successor, the second Imam Hamza Bek from the Avar Khanate, was elected for his military prowess although he was not a Sufi master. He was assassinated in late 1834 in revenge for killing the Avar ruling family.
It took the third Imam, Shamil, several years to overcome the debacle, receive the recognition of rival Naqshbandi leaders, and reunite the people under his banner. Born in Gimra and a close friend of Ghazi Muhammad, Shamil received his Sufi training from Ghazi Ghumuqi, who also gave him one of his daughters in marriage, and was ordained as a master by Yaraghi. He accompanied the first Imam on all his campaigns and was severely wounded in his last battle in Gimra. Following the death of Hamza Bek, the second Imam, in 1834 Shamil was elected as successor with the support of Ghazi Ghumuqi, initiating his term with a period of seclusion and of preaching to follow the shari‘a. Yet only after the renewal of the Russian offensive two years later were his Naqshbandi adversaries ready to consolidate their forces behind him. Defeated and losing support in Daghestan, Shamil moved to Chechnya, where he resorted to guerrilla warfare and led a major revolt in 1840. His successes allowed him to regain his position in Daghestan and to try to extend his authority over the Circassian tribes in the central and western Caucasus. His main deputy in these regions, Muhammad Amin, strove to organize local resistance on similar lines.
Imam Shamil embarked on a far-reaching course of reforms, which undermined the local elites and led to the creation of the first unified state in Inner Daghestan and Chechnya. Faithful to the Naqshbandi legacy of his predecessors, he strictly enforced the shari‘a, consulted the ulama and Sufi masters on important decisions, and sent deputies to the remotest corners of the country to suppress local customs and mobilize support. These measures were augmented by regulations regarding the state’s administration and the building of the army, in which Shamil followed the reform policies of the Tanzimat, and especially those of Muhammad ‘Ali in Egypt. By the early 1850s his enterprise began to founder due to both a new Russian military drive and internal tensions, which were reflected in the emergence of an alternative Qadiri brotherhood. The final Russian assault led to Shamil’s capitulation in 1859. Treated with full respect in his captivity, he was finally allowed to make the hajj in 1869, and two years later he died in Medina. Shamil’s elder son and successor settled in Istanbul and fought the Russians as a Turkish commander in the 1877–1878 war, while the younger son who remained in Russia found his place in the provincial administration.49
Indonesia
A third “peripheral” region in which the Khalidi offshoot, together with the mother Naqshbandi-Mujaddidi brotherhood, was implanted in the nineteenth century was the Dutch Indies. The Naqshbandiyya had been known in the archipelago at least from the seventeenth century through pilgrims who were initiated in Arabia. Most outstanding among these were Yusuf of Makassar (d. 1699), who received the path in Yemen from a local deputy of Tajuddin ‘Uthmani, and ‘Abd al-Ra’uf al-Singkili (d. after 1693), a disciple of Ibrahim al-Kurani who attended lectures of both Tajuddin’s deputies and Sirhindi’s son, Muhammad Ma‘sum. There is no evidence that on their return home such men of religion formed Naqshbandi branches; the two mentioned masters are rather remembered as the respective founders of the Khalwatiyya and Shattariyya traditions in Indonesia.
Allegiance to masters resident in Mecca, and continuing dependence on them, similarly characterized the leaders of the various Naqshbandi branches that were established in Java and Sumatra from the middle of the nineteenth century. Most of these masters belonged to the Khalidiyya, some were affiliated to the Mujaddidiyya (locally known as Mazhariyya), and there was also a combined Naqshbandiyya-and-Qadiriyya brotherhood. The first two branches arrived on the scene at a time of increasing colonial exploitation by the Dutch, and they usually allied with the new indigenous elites. The third branch was more popular and became involved in peasant revolts. The conquest of Mecca by the Saudis dealt a severe blow to the Indonesian Naqshbandiyya, which was forced to adapt its organization and
doctrines to the local situation. Still, to this day it is the most widespread brotherhood in the country.50
The first master to introduce the Khalidiyya into the Malay world was Isma‘il Minangkabawi from West Sumatra (d. 1857), who returned from Mecca in the early 1850s after a long sojourn of study and teaching in the Holy City. During that time he served as a deputy of ‘Abdallah al-Arzinjani, Khalid’s representative in Mecca, and acquired a reputation among Indonesian pilgrims for his great learning and strict adherence to the shari‘a. Isma‘il landed at Singapore, which during his absence had been incorporated into the British sphere of influence, and engaged in propagating the path in the colony and the adjacent lands. He was particularly successful in the selfgoverning Riau archipelago, where the ruling family became his disciples, and the king’s younger brother, Raja Abdullah (d. 1858), was ordained deputy. After Isma‘il’s departure his legacy was perpetuated by Abdullah, who in due course ascended the throne, and by the latter’s son and successor, Raja Muhammad Yusuf, who became attached to the Meccan Mujaddidi- Mazhari master Salih al-Zawawi.
Minangkabawi was apparently reluctant to go on to his native West Sumatra, which had come under direct Dutch control, and left for Mecca where he spent his last days. But already during his lifetime the Naqshban- diyya began to spread into Sumatra as well as Java through the numerous Indonesian disciples he had initiated in Arabia. The influence of the brotherhood in the archipelago grew considerably after 1880, not least thanks to improved sea travel, which increased the number of pilgrims visiting the Holy Places. Many became disciples of the different Naqshbandi masters then active in Mecca, particularly the Khalidis Sulayman al-Zuhdi and Amin al-Kurdi, who spent a decade in Mecca before settling in Cairo, and the aforementioned Mujaddidi master, Zawawi.51 The Indonesian deputies established numerous religious centers in their home regions, which became focal points for the propagation of the path among the local populations, and more generally for preaching the shari‘a and combating popular customs. The following is a survey of the more important Naqshbandi masters and their regional centers.
In Minangkabaw, Isma‘il’s place of origin, one of the earliest masters to propagate the Khalidi path was Jalaludin of Changking (fl. 1860s). He built a highly-regarded religious school in his native town and set out against syncretistic beliefs associated with the Shattari tradition. Many of the followers of the Minangkabaw Naqshbandi masters were sons of those who had joined the puritanical Padri movement that fought Dutch colonial forces from 1821 until its defeat in 1838. While perpetuating the orthodox preaching of their predecessors, however, the new generation of Khalidis was integrated into the emerging entrepreneurial elite of the island and emphatically opposed anti-colonial resistance. More than one sultan and most of the local ulama were affiliated with the brotherhood.
A similar attitude was adopted by the Naqshbandi masters in the northern part of Sumatra. The foremost master in these regions was the Malay Abdulwahhab Rokan (d. 1926), Zuhdi’s principal deputy on the island and in mainland Malaya. During his long life Rokan ordained 120 deputies, including the Sultan of Langkat, near Medan. Under the latter’s patronage he founded in the auspicious year 1300 AH (1883) the model village community of Babussalam (lit. the gate of peace), which served as an important focus for the Islamization of the interior. This is probably the only Naqshbandi village in the world; to this day, all the inhabitants are required to join the brotherhood when they reach the age of fifteen. In the center of the village are the school, including a hall for dhikr and rooms for seclusion, and beside it the tomb of the founder.52
Plate 6.2 Main mosque in Babussalam, Sumatra
Disciples of Minangkabawi were probably also the first to carry the Khalidiyya to Java. Here, however, they were repressed by local rulers who espoused a highly syncretistic form of Islam and were therefore inimical to reformist teachings. In the early 1880s a local deputy of Zuhdi, Abdulqadir of Samaranj, gained a large following among the lower classes on the island’s northern coast. His success aroused the apprehensions of Yogyagarta’s aristocracy and led the Dutch to banish him in 1885 to one of the outer inlands. More fortunate was Muhammad Hadi of nearby Girikusumo and his son Mansur, who established a school in Solo and trained thousands of disciples from all over Central Java. The network he erected numbers today, according to Van Bruinessen’s estimate, well over 100,000. In West Java the Khalidiyya became especially widespread in the districts of Cianjur and Bogor, most notably after a volcanic eruption in 1883 that awakened strong chiliastic expectations. Eastwards, on the island of Madura, the Mujaddidi path was propagated after 1890 by a local deputy of Zawawi.
The hostile attitude of the Dutch toward the Naqshbandiyya perceptibly changed at the turn of the twentieth century, after the administrator-scholar Snouck Hurgronje persuaded the authorities that Sufi brotherhoods were basically religious organizations with no political aspirations. Such was not the case, however, with the Naqshbandiyya-and-Qadiriyya, a distinct brotherhood which combines the Qadiri lineage and practices with Naqshbandi elements such as silent dhikr and activation of the subtle centers of the body (lata’if ). It was founded by Ahmad Khatib of Sambes, in west Borneo (d. 1878), who resided for many years in Mecca. Khatib had many Indonesian disciples and appointed deputies to various parts of the archipelago, from Sumatra to Lombok. He was succeeded by the learned Abdulkarim of Banten, under whom the Naqshbandiyya-and-Qadiriyya became extremely popular among the Javan villagers, and was implicated in some of their rebellions, especially the major uprising of Banten in 1888. After his death the brotherhood split into several separate branches, most of which are still active today.
7
THE PERSISTENCE OF THE OLDER
TRADITIONS
The orthodox-activist message of the Khalidiyya was successfully disseminated in both the Ottoman lands and on the fringes of the Islamic world. It failed, however, to penetrate the original lands of either the Mujaddidiyya or the erstwhile Naqshbandiyya. In India, leadership of the central lodge in Delhi was returned after Shah Ghulam ‘Ali’s death to the Mujaddidi family (Ahmad Sirhindi’s descendants). Concomitantly the Mujaddidiyya established a stronger presence in the largest Muslim princely state of Hyderabad in the Deccan. In the aftermath of the Great Revolt of 1857-1858 the Mujaddidis took refuge in the Haramayn, but in the 1880s one of them, Abu al-Khayr, made his way back to India and re-established the family authority. His progeny occupy his lodge to this day. At that time the brotherhood began to spread to Muslim rural areas of northern India, especially in the Punjab. At the turn of the twentieth century, Indian masters such as Jama‘at ‘Ali adopted modern means to propagate the path, while other followers, to be discussed in the last chapter, opted for altogether new organizations.
In the Russian Empire, the Khalidiyya managed to gain a foothold during the nineteenth century not only in Daghestan and Chechnya, where time and again it renewed its rebellion against Russian and later Soviet rule, but also in the Middle Volga region and in Kazakhstan and Siberia. The foremost Khalidi agent in the latter lands was Zaynullah Rasulev, who took the path from Gumushanevi in Istanbul. Along with him operated in the Volga region the puritanical reformist Vaisi movement, which branched off the Mujaddidiyya and protested both infidel rule and Muslim deviation. In the Central Asian khanates, however, the Naqshbandiyya of both the original type and the Mujaddidiyya remained supreme. Most cases of resistance to the Russian imperial advance in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries were organized by Naqshbandis. But others, like Muhammad Jan’s disciples in the Volga and the Babakhanovs in Tashkent, proved to be the most loyal servants of the Czarist and Bolshevik governments.
In China, the Khojas of the Afaqi lineage retained a dominant position among the population of the Tarim basin, which became part of the province of Xinjiang. It was then challenged, however, by another pre-Mujaddidi
branch, which was brought to China proper from Arabia by the puritanical Ma Mingxin. The two factions came to be known respectively as the Khu- fiyya and the Jahriyya, or the Old and the New Teachings. Both factions were involved in the following century in a series of revolts against the Qing dynasty. Partly revived after its fall in 1912, they were suppressed and silenced after the establishment of the Communist regime in 1949.
British and postcolonial South Asia
Following the death of Ghulam ‘Ali in 1824 leadership of the Delhi Mujad- didiyya was returned to the progeny of Sirhindi. This was a deliberate decision by Ghulam ‘Ali, who to consolidate the position of his lodge sent for Shah Abu Sa‘id, his deputy in the Mujaddidi family in Rampur, and urged him to come to Delhi and take charge. He also sought the approval of the religious dignitaries of the city for the appointment. Abu Sa‘id and even more so his son and successor Ahmad Sa‘id chose to ignore the British colonial government and the surrounding Hindu society, and focused on the growing criticism of the Sufi tradition emanating from the reformist school of Shah Waliullah. Ahmad in particular, not unlike Diya’ al-Din Khalid and his followers in their response to the Wahhabi-Salafi challenge, dealt with such disapproval by combining Sufism and scholarship and by engaging, often in the reformists’ terms, in scholarly polemics to prove that Sufism was part of “true” Islam. He claimed to have established a spiritual connection with founders of the principal brotherhoods in Delhi of his time, notably the Qadiriyya and Chishtiyya, though without relinquishing the primacy of his Naqshbandi-Mujaddidi affiliation. On the other hand, Sa‘id emphasized the importance of the “external” sciences, most particularly hadith in which Waliullah and his successors specialized, and added his own criticism of Sufi practices that were incompatible with the religious law.1
Deputies of Ghulam ‘Ali established new centers for the Mujaddidiyya in regions that in the wake of the British occupation superseded Delhi as loci of Muslim identity on the subcontinent. Such was Hyderabad, capital of the largest (Muslim) princely state in British India. The brotherhood was introduced here by Shah Sa‘dullah, a native of the Punjab, who after the master’s death set out for the hajj and upon his return had a vision that directed him to Hyderabad. His principal deputy, Miskin Shah, established a family lineage which was integrated into the state’s elite and enjoyed the patronage of the Nizam. One of Miskin’s deputies, Nur Muzaffar Husayn, established a second Mujaddidi lodge in the city center, apparently to cater to the needs of the common people. To this family lineage belonged ‘Abdullah Shah, a twentieth-century Sufi and distinguished scholar of hadith, jurisprudence, and theology. Both Hyderabadi branches, which still await study, have continued uninterrupted to this day.2 Other major deputies of Ghulam ‘Ali were active in the Punjab and the Northwest Frontier Province.3
Figure 7.1 Mujaddidi lineages in Delhi, Rampur, and Hyderabad
In the wake of the bloody suppression of the Indian revolt, Ahmad Sa‘id was compelled to leave Delhi in 1858 and spent the last two years of his life in Medina. One of his grandsons, Shah Abu al-Khayr, returned with his father to India, and in 1885 took charge of the Mazhari lodge. Relying on family connections and old loyalties, as well as on the Memon merchant community of western India, he was able to make a place for himself in the Muslim society of Delhi and renew and further expand the lodge, which since then has borne his name. Abu al-Khayr was anxious to re-establish his family connections with the Afghan communities of north India, and still more with people from Afghanistan. Fusfeld explains this preference as a reflection of his hostility to the British and as a strategy to maintain political independence.
From 1900 on, Abu al-Khayr divided his time each year between Delhi and Quetta, near the Afghan border. He forged links with the modernizing King Amanullah (1919–1929) and the Afghan elite, thereby fulfilling the master’s role as a mediator which was no longer possible in India. In a kind of reversed mediation, in India itself he had to rely on the intervention of his Afghan disciples when approaching the British government. Deploring the weakness of the Muslim world in his time, Abu al-Khayr called for religious unity and solidarity which included even the Shi‘a and, in the spirit of the age, elicited in his followers a strong sense of spiritual identification with the Muslim world at large.4
Plate 7.1 The Abu al-Khayr lodge in Delhi
The reactivation of the Mujaddidi lodge in Delhi was part of a larger revival of Naqshbandi activity at end of the nineteenth century in northern India, from the Northwest Frontier Province to East Bengal, and beyond to Afghanistan and Nepal.5 This revival bypassed the burial place of Ahmad Sirhindi and his sons in Sirhind, which after its destruction in 1764 was rebuilt as an overwhelmingly Sikh town. The lodge was enlarged in the 1920s and continues to be maintained by Sirhindi’s descendants who attend to visitors and organize the anniversary of the saint’s death.6
By contrast, in the Muslim princely state of Rampur, the third center of the Mujaddidi family, a palpable expansion of activity was felt, albeit not accomplished by the family directly. The foremost master of the Rampur family branch during the second half of the century was Irshad Husayn, a deputy of Ahmad Sa‘id who followed him to Medina but after a year was ordered to return to India and resume the training of disciples. Under the patronage of the Nawab, he built in Rampur a new lodge as well as a school in which, in an embodiment of the Mujaddidi postulate that the shari‘a precedes the tariqa, students were instilled with the religious sciences before embarking on the Sufi path. This was also the educational course of Shah ‘Inayatullah Khan, Irshad’s foremost deputy and founder of the leading Naqshbandi line in Rampur during the twentieth century.
Maulana Irshad Husain . . . arrived at Rampur from Madinah Munawwarah and he stayed in a mosque near Shah Inayatullah’s house. For resolving an issue of Shariah, Shah Inayatullah called on him along one of his friends . . . [Hazrat Irshad Husain] told him: “Why don’t you learn it yourself.” To this Shah Inayatullah replied: “I am now grown up. My father wants me to assist him in his business. Moreover, I feel somewhat embarrassed in studying elementary works on Shariah. Hazrat Irshad Husain said: “you need not feel embarrassed. I will teach you a book which has not been studied by anyone so far.” . . . Gradually he learnt a great deal of the Arabic language and attained an ability to follow works in Arabic. Later on he studied works on Tafseer (Qura’n exegesis), hadith, Fiqha (sic., jurisprudence), Usul-e-Fiqha, and other Islamic sciences.
One day Hazrat Irshad Husain asked him in an unusual fashion: “You should now learn spiritual lessons in Naqshbandiyya Mujaddidiyya order.” In accordance with this directive of his mentor Shah Inayatullah pledged oath of allegiance at his end and took to studying Tasawwuf and gaining spiritual lessons.7
Upon the death of the master ‘Inayatullah, an Afghan by extraction, superseded all members of the Mujaddidi family and established himself as successor. He built a lodge on his own lands, the Khanqah-i ‘Inayatiyya, and for more than thirty years trained numerous disciples, mostly from
Afghanistan and some from Russian and Chinese Central Asia. ‘Inayatullah established a family lineage that still exists today. The present master, ‘Ubaydullah ‘Inayati, complained to me about the decline in the number and quality of seekers of the path in the modern age, in which people have neither time nor energy to spare for spiritual perfection. In the dhikr session I attended there were only fifteen participants. Still during his father’s lifetime ‘Ubaydullah had published a brochure in English, from which the above quote is taken and which concludes with an open invitation to “sincere persons of whatever nationality and country” (religion is not mentioned) to spend a few months in the lodge and try to derive spiritual benefits from it. The same invitation was extended to me although I identified myself as a Jew from Israel.8
Most spectacular was the consolidation of the Mujaddidi presence in the towns and villages of the northern Punjab, in today’s Pakistan, which became a major center of Naqshbandi activity in post-1857 India. An important factor in the success of the brotherhood was the ability of its masters to bridge the gap between strict orthodox behavior that they had imbibed in Delhi and Rampur and the local culture of shrines on which they had been brought up. The Mujaddidis of rural Punjab took active part in the defense of Sufism against the multiple antagonistic forces that gained ground in the province from the 1880s onwards: Anglicization, Christian missionary work, Hindu revivalism, the Ahmadi movement, and the fundamentalist Ahl-i Hadith trend. As against their detractors, the Sufi masters were
Plate 7.2 Master of the ‘Inayatullah lodge, Rampur
anxious to show that they follow the Sunna of the Prophet in all its minutiae and stressed the duty to pledge allegiance to a perfect master who realizes the ideal. To better cope with the new challenges they entered the public sphere through religious associations, magazines, and the active recruitment of deputies.
The most prominent Mujaddidi master in the Punjab during the colonial period was Pir Jama‘at ‘Ali (d. 1951), who belonged to a landlord family from the Sialkot district with Qadiri and Naqshbandi affiliations. Jama‘at ‘Ali acquired extensive religious education, studying among others with the Mujaddidis Irshad Husayn of Rampur and Fadlurrahman Ganj Murada- badi, whom we shall meet as a major influence on modern Indian reformist trends. Thereafter he followed the Naqshbandi path and, after receiving permission to guide disciples of his own, he began going on foot to propagate Islam in the villages and towns of the Punjab. To expand his activities all over India, in 1904 Jama‘at ‘Ali founded the Anjuman-i Khudam-i Sufiyya (the association of the servants of Sufism), the principal aim of which was to unite the Indian Sufis against their “Wahhabi” rivals. He was assisted in this enterprise by another Mujaddidi master, the English-educated Anwar ‘Ali (d. 1920), who edited the association’s magazine.
Moreover, rather than waiting for disciples to enter his lodge Jama‘at ‘Ali exploited the Indian railway network to travel the length and breadth of the country to propagate his path. This reversal of method entailed a redefinition of the master’s role from a personal guide to a mass spiritual leader. His association held an annual meeting, and in the 1920s added to its aims fighting the Arya Samaj, a Hindu revivalist movement which had launched a campaign to “reconvert” Muslims to Hinduism. Jama‘at ‘Ali’s lifework for the cause of Islam received public recognition when in 1925 he presided over the first All-India Sunni Conference, and ten years later when he was declared “leader of the Muslim community.” Unable to influence British religious policy in favor of his constituency, in 1946 Jama‘at ‘Ali, like most other Punjabi masters, switched to the Muslim League which moved toward the creation of Pakistan. He died five years later, leaving behind numerous deputies and followers throughout the country and among immigrants to Great Britain and the United States.9
In the Mujaddidi lodge in Delhi Abu al-Khayr was succeeded by his son Shah Abu al-Hasan Zayd Faruqi, who was initiated into the path at the age of eleven. Subsequently he acquired a thorough religious education, completing it at al-Azhar in Cairo. Abu al-Hasan assumed the direction of the lodge in 1934. He decided to stay in India after partition in 1947, to take care of the lodge, while his brothers settled on the family lands in Quetta, now in Pakistan. Like other members of his family,10 Abu al-Hasan’s outlook was basically conservative. He boasted of his multiple Sufi affiliations and was inimical to the anti-Sufi Ahl-i Hadith, but also to the more moderate organizations. Most of his disciples came from Pakistan and Afghanistan.
Abu al-Hasan was a prolific writer, who dedicated his work to Naqshbandi doctrine and history and to polemics against “Wahhabis.” He was particularly averse to the “Muslim nationalist” image that Sirhindi acquired during the twentieth century, claiming, as a matter of self-legitimization, that his ancestor followed the trodden path of the Indian Sufis and that he was not inherently hostile to the Hindus, but only to those who rebelled against the Mughal state. Abu al-Hasan did confirm the political activity of Sirhindi, which he felt unable to follow in the realities of the Hindu-dominated secular Indian state.11
Perhaps a reflection of a sense of decline of his family tradition in India, during the long term of nearly six decades that Abu al-Hasan Zayd Faruqi managed the lodge in Delhi he ordained only a handful of deputies. He maintained that the rank of khilafa required lofty merits that only few could attain. Among those qualified was his grandson and the present head of the lodge, Abu al-Nasr Anas Faruqi (b. 1971). In his thirties, Abu al-Nasr claims to have more than 100 devoted disciples from Delhi, Agra, and other cities in India. He conducts an evening dhikr session every day and a larger meeting (khatma) once a week. Some forty people participated in the session I attended, and it included blessings, dhikr, recitation of the Naqshbandi lineage, and a religious lesson. An atmosphere of sobriety reigned over the whole meeting.12
The ongoing project of the Naqshbandiyya in Pakistan is recorded in an
Plate 7.3 Dhikr in the Mujaddidi lodge in Delhi
anthropological study that adopts a regional cult analysis approach in examining one particular branch in NWFP. This was founded in 1951 by Zindapir (d. 1999) in a remote valley. Son of a local Sufi family of Afghan origins, he was ordained deputy of another Afghan master who had settled in the late nineteenth century at the foot of the Himalayas. Zindapir was conscious of the reformist critics of Sufism and therefore stressed the shari‘a and prohibited extravagant celebrations at shrines. He practiced the loud dhikr but forbade the playing of music, as well as radio and television. On the other hand, Zindapir followed local customs and professed to live in harmony with nature. He showed a tolerant attitude toward non-Muslims, who were always welcomed in his lodge.
In more than forty years’ activity Zindapir built a regional cult that stretched over most of Pakistan. He enjoyed much popularity in the armed forces and the civil bureaucracy, and was courted by national politicians at election time. Zindapir’s branch acquired a transnational dimension when one of his deputies, Sufi Sahib, was sent in 1962 to guide Pakistani immigrant workers in England in the precepts of their religion.13 The headquarters of the British brotherhood in Birmingham include a magnificent mosque and a Quranic school, and provide various communal services. In 1973 Sahib initiated annual processions on the Prophet’s birthday, which have attracted thousands of followers from all over the country, most notably London and Manchester. Other affiliations of Zindapir’s Naqshbandi branch were established in the Middle East, South Africa, and more recently Europe and the USA. The followers in all these places are almost exclusively South Asian migrants and their descendants.14
Monarchical Afghanistan
Ethnic Afghans constituted an important part of the Mujaddidi following from the very inception of the brotherhood in the days of Ahmad Sirhindi and Muhammad Ma‘sum. These included Afghans who immigrated to the Indian subcontinent and inhabitants of the lands which in the eighteenth century became Afghanistan. At that time a great grandson of Sirhindi, Ghulam Muhammad Ma‘sum II, was invited by Ahmad Shah Abdali (1747– 1773), founder of the modern Afghan state, to go and settle in his capital Qandahar. Ma‘sum preferred to send one of his sons, who was later followed by two brothers. When Abdali’s son Timur (1773–1793) moved the capital to Kabul he granted the Mujaddidi family lands and a residence in the Shor Bazar district of the city, where they set up a large lodge and a school. Other branches of the family were established in the regions of Qandahar, Herat, and Kohistan. Under their leadership the Mujaddidiyya became the most influential and widespread brotherhood in Afghanistan, surpassing the local Qadiri and Chishti traditions and the original Naqshbandiyya, which retained a presence in some local lodges in the west and north of the country.15
Despite the proximity of the Hazrat Shor Bazar, as the Mujaddidi family of Kabul came to be known, to the royal court, during the nineteenth century its heads focused on spiritual guidance and religious preaching. During that time they created a wide network among the ulama, who favored the Naqshbandi orthodox bent, and among the Pashtun tribes on the Indian border, among which they served as arbitrators. They became involved in politics during the reign of King Amanullah, when the then head of the family, Fazl Muhammad (d. 1925), supported the jihad against the British that the monarch declared upon his ascension. He accompanied the troops to the front, en route encouraging the tribesmen to join the struggle. Yet when Amanullah embarked upon an ambitious program of modernization along Western lines, Muhammad’s brother and successor, Fazl ‘Umar (d. 1956), took up residence in Pakistan, from where in 1928 he organized the first popular rebellion against the king. Unable to prevent General Nadir Khan from assuming the throne after Amanullah’s abdication, he changed his position in time to be appointed minister of justice and head of the committee of religious scholars that was set up to supervise legislation. His brother Sadiq was appointed ambassador in Cairo.
Fazl ‘Umar played a key role in the crisis that followed the assassination of Nadir Shah in 1933, when he proclaimed his son Zahir, still a boy, successor. During the latter’s long reign, from 1933 to 1973, the Hazrat Shor Bazar continued to receive state favors and married into the royal family, but their political influence, and the role of Sufism in the country in general, gradually diminished. ‘Umar himself resigned from the government three years after his appointment and dedicated himself to the affairs of the brotherhood. In 1947 the government paid no heed to the Hazrat call for jihad to conquer Kashmir for Pakistan, and during the 1950s it went on with its plans to remove female veiling and to establish relations with the Soviet Union despite their protests. When Zahir Shah finally took the reigns of power into his hands in 1963, Muhammad Ibrahim (d. 1979), the new head of the Mujad- didi family and brotherhood, emerged as leader of the conservative faction in parliament, which staunchly supported the monarchy. Consequently, in the wake of the 1973 coup he lost all political power, and a year after the Marxist takeover in 1978 he and all male members of the family living in Kabul were arrested and executed.16
Czarist Russia, the USSR, and beyond
The Naqshbandiyya was strongly represented in the three major Muslim areas in the Russian Empire: the Middle Volga, the North Caucasus, and Central Asia. Yet, there was wide divergence in the trajectory of the brotherhood in each of the areas in terms of historical development, socioeconomic basis, and actual resistance. Among the Tatars of the Middle Volga region, who had been under Russian rule since the sixteenth century,
the Naqshbandiyya gave birth in the nineteenth century to the modernist Jadid movement, as well as to the schismatic Vaisi sect. At that time the Khalidiyya was also introduced into the region and was taken farther afield to the Kazakh lands and Siberia. In Daghestan and Chechnya, as we have seen, the Naqshbandiyya-Khalidiyya spearheaded the jihad against the Russian conquest in the first half of the nineteenth century. Later on it was partly superseded by the Qadiriyya but continued to be involved in many of the recurrent rebellions that still defy the government in Moscow. In the Central Asian khanates, by contrast, the Naqshbandiyya, of both the original type and the Mujaddidiyya, failed to organize resistance to the Russian conquest in the second half of the nineteenth century, though the few local rebellions that did erupt were conducted by its followers. Succumbing to the anti-religious Soviet regime, it begins to recover in independent Uzbekistan.17
The Naqshbandiyya was introduced into the Volga-Urals region during the fifteenth century, apparently from Bukhara, the religious point of reference for local Muslims. Under Russian rule the brotherhood absorbed existing Kubrawi and Yasawi groups and came to dominate the religious and cultural life of the Tatars and Bashkirs. It was followed in the eighteenth century by the Mujaddidi offshoot, which was likewise disseminated from Central Asia. Among its earliest representatives in the Volga basin was a Tatar deputy of Habibullah, who had implanted the path in Transoxiana. Later in the century two Mujaddidi lineages became active among the Tatars. One consisted of disciples of the Kabuli master Fayz Khan ‘Ata (d. 1802), the other comprised followers of Muhammad Niyazquli, whom we have met as the most impressive Sufi master in Mangit Bukhara. The best-known figure in the first group was Muhammad Jan, who in 1789 was appointed first head of the religious administration in the Volga region. Not particularly learned or pious, his main advantage in the eyes of the Russian authorities seems to have been his servile loyalty. Most of Jan’s successors to the post were like him affiliated to the Naqshbandiyya. The foremost figure among Niyazquli’s Tatar disciples was Abunasir Kursavi, the forebear of Jadidism.18
One of the latest offshoots of the Mujaddidiyya in the Volga basin was the puritanical Vaisi sect, also known as God’s Regiment of Vaisov. It was founded in 1862 by Baha’uddin Vaisi (d. 1893), a merchant from Kazan who formed contacts with Naqshbandi masters during his business travels to Central Asia. He took the path from a master belonging to Fayz ‘Ata’s lineage, and after the latter’s death returned to Qazan and built “a house of prayer.” This became the focus of a protest movement against both Russian “infidel” rule and compliant Muslims, including Naqshbandis employed in the Russian religious administration. Most followers of the Vaisi sect were artisans and peasants, and it had neither distinctive dress nor a particular form of dhikr. “Vaisism” gradually turned into a puritanical reformist movement, compared by Quelquejay to the militant Bareillis in India. It
called for a return to original Islam and rejected both innovations (bid‘a) and the Jadidi call for rational discretion.
The ultimate aim of Vaisi was to establish “a Bulghar state,” and he ordered his followers to reject Russian identity cards and refuse to pay taxes and submit to conscription. This was enough for the Russian authorities, which in 1884 destroyed the movement and sent Vaisi to a psychiatric hospital. The brotherhood was renewed, and further radicalized, by his son ‘Inanuddin, who adopted Marxist ideas and took an active part in the October Revolution on the side of the Bolsheviks and against the “Tatar bourgeoisie.” He was killed in 1920 by Tatar nationalists and the movement quickly disappeared.19
During the nineteenth century the Muslims of the Volga-Urals region underwent a partial reorientation; their ties with Transoxiana were loosened in favor of more contact with major centers of learning in the Ottoman world. One such center was the Haramayn, where Tatar pilgrims, like their Indonesian coreligionists, grouped around various Mujaddidi and Khalidi masters. On their return many engaged in propagating the path in their hometowns. The undisputed leader of the Naqshbandiyya in the Volga basin during late Czarist Russia, however, was the Bashkir Zaynullah Rasulev (d. 1917), who was introduced into the Khalidiyya by Gumushanevi in Istanbul. From the Orenburg province, Rasulev acquired a thorough religious education and began his career as a teacher. In 1859, following local custom, he sought Sufi initiation and chose a Mujaddidi master. Eleven years later Rasulev passed through Istanbul on his way to the hajj and then met Gumushanevi. He was so impressed that he asked for a second initiation, at whose end he was appointed “full deputy.”
Back home, Rasulev’s rapid success aroused the animosity of the established masters, who in 1872 denounced him to the Russian authorities for heresy and distortion of Islam. He was summoned for interrogation, imprisoned, and sent into exile that lasted for almost a decade. Thereafter Rasulev settled in Troitsk on the edge of the Kazakh steppe, which thanks to him became a principal center of learning and a base for the further diffusion of the Khalidiyya. The school he established in the city, known as the Rasuliyya, acquired a reputation as one of the best Muslim institutions in Russia. The school used new pedagogical methods and incorporated secular sciences in the curriculum, striking a middle course between the modernist Jadidis and the traditionalists.
Although he stayed away from political activity, Rasulev was sympathetic with the aspirations of the Tatars and other Muslims of the Russian Empire. He sent his greetings to the Third All-Russian Muslim Congress in 1906 and gave his blessing to the moderate Ittifaq al-Muslimin association, which was led by his follower and presumed successor, ‘Alimjan Barudi (d. 1921). Barudi was director of the reformist Muhammadiyya school in Kazan, the largest educational institution in Russia at the time, and became Mufti of
Ufa and head of the Religious Directorate in 1917. His predecessor as well as successors in these offices were also followers of Rasulev, though under Soviet rule the vitality of the Naqshbandiyya in the Middle Volga was considerably diminished. The successors were Rizauddin (d. 1936), who paid dearly for his refusal to attest that religious freedom prevailed in the Soviet Union, and ‘Abdulrahman Rasulev (d. 1952), the master’s son, who in 1941 called the Muslims to support the war effort against Nazi Germany.20
Zaynullah Rasulev’s influence extended well beyond the Volga-Urals region, especially into Kazakhstan and Siberia. His numerous disciples in these lands came from among students of the Rasuliyya school and its affiliates or through the students he sent out to teach the tenets of Islam among the people of the steppes. The Naqshbandiyya was introduced into the khanate of Siberia as early as the sixteenth century at the invitation of its last ruler, who wanted to spread Islam in his realm, though legend has it that already Baha’uddin Naqshband had sent followers for that purpose. Adepts of the brotherhood from the Central Asian khanates continued to be attracted to this frontier, and their legacy is attested by the aristocratic Khwaja families that still live in these regions.
The presence of the Naqshbandiyya in Kazakhstan and Siberia was enhanced during the nineteenth century with the improvement of communications, which made it easier to travel to the Muslim centers of the Russian Empire and to make the hajj. Among the leading Siberian Naqshbandis in the first half of the century was Khwaja Virdi (d. 1856), a prominent scholar, many of whose disciples served as imams in the mosques of Siberia. The impact of Rasulev in the region was such that in 1906 the Russian authorities took measures to limit the Tatar presence among the Kazakhs.21
The defeat of Shaykh Shamil in 1859 and the subsequent incorporation of the North Caucasus into the Russian Empire, with massive migration of Caucasian Muslims to the Ottoman lands, considerably weakened the local Naqshbandiyya. Its leadership had been challenged already during the 1850s with the introduction into the region of a Qadiri branch preaching detachment from worldly affairs and acceptance of infidel domination among the war-weary mountain people. Its excessive type of vocal dhikr was also abhorrent to the Naqshbandis. Still, only a few years after Shamil’s capitulation the Qadiriyya too became hostile to the oppressive Russian rule and adopted many features of the Naqshbandi doctrine and organization.
The two brotherhoods cooperated in the great rebellion of 1877–1878, the Naqshbandis taking the lead in Daghestan and the Qadiris in Chechnya. After the bloody suppression of the revolt the idea of jihad was temporarily abandoned, but the two brotherhoods experienced spectacular expansion, the Naqshbandiyya attracting the aristocratic and learned elites and the Qadiriyya gaining popularity among the peasants. Together they defied Russian efforts to eradicate the shari‘a by forming an alternative system of
administration. Masters banished to the Volga Basin or Siberia helped spread the path in these regions.
In the wake of the Soviet revolution in 1917 Shamil’s legacy was revived when Najmuddin of Hotso was proclaimed Imam of Daghestan and Chechnya. During the revolutionary years 1917-1921, which were particularly bloody in the North Caucasus, the Naqshbandiyya was thus once more at the forefront. The declared aim of Najmuddin and his colleagues was to reconstitute the rule of the shari'a, expel the Russians, and liquidate Muslims who cooperated with the infidel rule. They gathered an army of disciples, and in 1919 defeated the White forces and declared a liberated North Caucasus amirate. Following the Bolshevik occupation a year later, Najmuddin and other Naqshbandi masters led the great revolt of Chechnya and Daghestan, a peasant uprising in the name of a grandson of Shamil. The revolt lasted over a year; only in 1925 was it wholly suppressed, its leaders being caught and executed.
In the course of the struggle the Bolsheviks launched an anti-religious campaign closing shari'a courts and liquidating the local “clerical leadership.” The mass purges of Sufi masters and adepts provoked a new wave of rebellions in the 1930s, in which Naqshbandis and Qadiris fought side by side. In 1944 the entire populations of Chechnya and Ingushetia were deported to Siberia and Kazakhstan. Those who survived were allowed to return after Stalin’s death, but persecution of Sufism resumed in the late 1950s and 1960s, during which Naqshbandi masters were tried as mere “bandits.”22
Following the break-up of the Soviet Union in 1991, the Sufis of the North Caucasus reemerged to champion a gradual re-Islamization of the region. The Naqshbandiyya is particularly strong in Daghestan, which suffered less under Soviet rule. Here the controversial Sayyid Effendi Chirkeevski of the dominant Avar ethnic group was able to acquire considerable political influence and secure the highest religious posts in the country to his disciples and proteges. Chirkeevski’s alliance with the authoritarian regime, his deficient religious knowledge, and his evident corruption won him the animosity of many distinguished religious scholars and Sufi masters, including rival Naqshbandis such as the highly respected Tajuddin Ramazanon. In Chechnya, Naqshbandi masters distanced themselves from the radical nationalists who led the armed struggle against Russian rule. The Qadiris first lent their support to the resistance, but from 1999 the two brotherhoods joined hands in advocating peace in the face of the nationalists and their ‘Wahhabi’ allies.23
Fully integrated into the ruling elites of the Mangit and other Central Asian khanates, the Naqshbandiyya failed to organize resistance to the Russian advance into the region in the second half of the nineteenth century. Still, the few attempts to shake off Russian rule were led by Naqshbandis based particularly in the Ferghana valley, where peasants and small traders
were adversely affected by Russian economic policies. The only rebellion to receive scholarly attention so far is the short-lived rebellion which broke out in 1898 in Andijan. This was associated with the Mujaddidi master Muhammad ‘Ali Dukcˇi Ishan.
In a book he had published earlier, Dukcˇi condemned the religious scholars for turning their vocation into a source of unlawful profit, and Sufi masters (locally known as Ishans) for favoring rich disciples and robbing the poor. He was even more severe with the great Naqshbandi Khwajas families, who in his view had abandoned the tradition but still used its prestige to acquire followers. Attentive to the complaints of his followers about Russian oppression, Dukcˇi took upon himself the task of organizing jihad, but cautioned that it be postponed until the whole Ferghana was mobilized. Much against his will he was crowned as Khan, after which the unruly crowd set out for Andijan where it fell upon government buildings and killed some soldiers and civilians. Four days later Dukcˇi Ishan was caught and executed and the rebellion was quelled.24
Naqshbandi-Mujaddidi masters from Ferghana similarly opposed the imposition of Soviet rule in Central Asia and supported the Basmachi movement between 1918 and 1928. Consequently, many of them were executed while others escaped to Eastern Turkistan. By then the Naqshbandiyya was divided into two branches, the Khafi and the Jahri, according to the form of dhikr they used. The latter was frequently connected with the Qadiriyya.25 On the other hand, as in the Volga-Urals region Naqshbandis proved to be among the most loyal servants of the Russian and Soviet regimes and were rewarded with high posts in the religious administration. The Spiritual Board for Central Asia and Kazakhstan based in Tashkent, one of the four boards set up by Stalin after the Second World War, was headed by three generations of the Naqshbandi chief muftis of the Baba- khanov family. In the late 1950s Ziya’uddin Babakhanov published a series of legal opinions in which he condemned pilgrimage to saints’ tombs and Ishanism in general as alien to Islam.26 A little earlier Naqshband’s mausoleum, already in a dilapidated state, was converted into a museum for anti-religious propaganda.27
Imperial and communist China
The conquest of Eastern Turkistan by the Chinese in 1759 did not undermine the position of the Naqshbandiyya among the Muslims of what came to constitute the province of Xinjiang, as well as in other parts of China. In the oasis cities, the Afaqi line of the Makhdumzade continued to hold pride of place among the local population. They were left to administer their domains in accordance with Islamic law and regarded themselves as the legitimate rulers of Kashghar. Members of the family who fled to neighboring countries, especially the khanate of Kokand, time and again invaded
Xinjiang to regain their possessions. The Ishaqiyya faction, by contrast, perceptibly weakened by the events of the Chinese conquest, adopted a policy of loyalty to the government and some of its members were sent to Peking to join the imperial aristocracy. In the northern parts of Eastern Turkistan the Khojas of Kucha continued to exert considerable influence upon the population. The Mujaddidiyya penetrated Xinjiang in the early nineteenth century, establishing centers in Yarkand and Kashghar.
The most formidable challenge to the Afaqiyya emanated from a new branch of the Chinese pre-Mujaddidi Naqshbandiyya which established itself in the province of Gansu. Its founder, Muhammad Ma Mingxin, had returned to his homeland in 1761 after a twenty-year sojourn in Yemen. During this long stay, as Fletcher discovered, he became a disciple of ‘Abd al-Khaliq al-Mizjaji (d. 1740), who had combined the Naqshbandi lineage of Ibrahim al-Kurani in Medina with that of the Indian Tajuddin ‘Uthmani. In China Mingxin engaged in spreading the blend of orthodoxy and political activism he had imbibed in Arabia in the face of the Afaqi Naqshbandis, whose popular practices of saint veneration and tomb visitation he condemned. His challenge was symbolically articulated by the use of the vocal dhikr, which he may have adopted from his erstwhile adherence to the Yasawi brotherhood.28 Consequently the two branches came to be known respectively as the Khufiyya and the Jahriyya;29 non-Muslim Chinese writers referred to them as the Old and the New Teachings, appellations that were to cause much confusion in later years.30
Mingxin’s great success among the Hui and Salars, and the inner-Muslim tensions he caused on the frontier, aroused the apprehension of the Chinese authorities. He was arrested in 1781, and executed after his followers rose up in arms. His mausoleum in Lanzhou has been only recently restored. Subsequent rebellions of Ma Mingxin’s disciples, one led by the scholar Tian Wu in 1784, and the White Lotus Rebellion of 1796–1805, were suppressed with the aid of followers of the Old Teaching. As a result of these events Chinese religious policies became increasingly anti-Muslim.31
During most of the nineteenth century adherents of both the Old and the New Teachings were involved in a series of rebellions against the Qing dynasty. In 1826–1828 an invasion by an Afaqi Khoja from Badakhshan stirred the population of Kashghar to rise, and the ruler of Kokand to invade East Turkistan. When the Chinese army arrived the Khoja offered no resistance but fled, not before his forces plundered the local population. By the middle of the nineteenth century the New Teaching, which spread from Gansu to other parts of the Chinese Empire while losing much of its reformist import, took the lead. This was a period of growing weakness of the Qing at the center, and of religious friction in many of the provinces. The then grand master of the Jahriyya, Ma Hualong, who established himself in the province of Ningsia, led the great Northwest Hui rebellion of 1862. This was the prelude to the great rebellion of Xinjiang, which apparently broke out in
Khufiyya - Old Teaching
Jahriyya - New Teaching
Figure 7.2 Naqshbandi trends in Chinese Islam
Kucha two years later. It was conducted in the name of Khoja Rashidin, the attendant of the saintly family shrine. Not unlike Dukcˇi Ishan three decades later in Andijan, he may have inspired the jihad but was then declared by the insurgents as their khan and hurried to battle against his better judgment.32
The rebellions of the 1860s marked the apex of militant Naqshbandi activity in China. Lack of coordination and harsh suppression led to the demise of the older groups while those who remained were forced underground. In 1865 the Kokandi officer Ya‘qub Beg established an Islamic state in Eastern Turkistan after defeating Khoja Rashidin of Kucha and the Mujaddidi ‘Abdurrahman Hadrat of Yarkand. Under his rule the last of the Khojas was expelled and the family lost its predominant position in the local politics of the oasis cities, which it was never to regain.33 Farther east in Xinjiang and in Gansu, the rebellion was bloodily suppressed after Ma Hualong was captured and executed with his entire family in 1871. The Chinese re-conquest of Xinjiang was completed in 1877, following the death of Ya‘qub Beg, and the province was re-organized in 1884 under Peking’s vigilant eye. The Jahri line was perpetuated by a daughter of Hualong, who married a disciple of her father, Ma Yuanzhang (d. 1920), in exile in Yunan. This succeeded after he had been allowed to return to Gansu to reassemble the remnants of the Jahriyya and to gain recognition as successor.34
The fall of the Qing dynasty in 1912 allowed the Jahriyya to come out into
the open again. Subsequently, Yuanzhang’s leadership was contested by a grandson of Hualong named Ma Jinxi, and after the grand master’s death in 1920 the brotherhood split into several sub-branches, reflecting personal rivalries and regional differences. At the same time, the Naqshbandiyya was revitalized in Eastern Turkistan by Uzbek masters from the Ferghana valley, who fled Soviet persecution. These belonged to both the Khafi and Jahri branches of the Russian Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya. Among them Qamruddin of Namangan (d. 1938) of the Khafi trend founded the Thaqibiyya branch, a learned grouping of ulama-Sufis influenced by the Indian Deobandi school, who were opposed both to “Wahhabism” and to popular Sufi practices. His charismatic successor, Ayyub Qari (Ziyauddin al- Yarkandi, d. 1952), established a prestigious school on the edge of the Yarkand oasis, through which he spread the orthodox message all over the region. Concomitantly, ‘Abdullah of Andijan (d. 1978), who belonged to the Jahri trend and practiced a more popular form of Sufism, established himself in Yarkand itself. With his son and successor, ‘Ubaydullah (d. 1993), he set up a network of lodges in many of the oasis cities, most particularly in Hotan.35
The situation of all Naqshbandi branches in China deteriorated following the institution of the Communist regime in 1949. Khoja Afaq’s mausoleum in Kashghar, in which his father and mentor along with 56 of his male and female descendants are buried, had survived all previous upheavals but was now made a museum. Afaq was depicted as an ignorant master, and the
Plate 7.4 The Afaq Hoja mausoleum in Kashghar
Khojas were denounced as the sons of “spiritual feudalism.”36 Partially rehabilitated in recent years, the site is officially presented today as the resting-place of Kashghar’s past rulers while overlooking their Naqshbandi affiliation. Still, on religious occasions multitudes visit the place to pay homage to the Afaq family and pray at the adjacent mosques.37
In Yarkand, Ayyub Qari disappeared and died in mysterious circumstances in 1952, and subsequently his school was closed down and partly destroyed. Today only its mosque has remained.38 His successors learned to compromise with the Communist regime, and they continue to cherish both Uighur and Chinese disciples. ‘Abdullah Andijani’s lineage also survived, and it is currently led by his grandson, Hidayatullah, a physician by training who conducts the dhikr in a Qadiri manner at his home.39 In China proper, during the 1950s Ma Zhenwu, a son of Yuanzhang, who was based in Gansu, succeeded in reuniting most Jahri branches under his authority, but in 1958 he came under attack as an “ultra-rightist” and his “crimes” were exposed at a Muslim people’s forum.40 Subsequently the Jahriyya again spilt into two main branches, one led by Zhenwu’s son and the other is of Ma Jinxi’s lineage. The center of the Khufiyya is located at the mausoleum of Ma Laichi in Linxia, which was restored in 1986, and it has more than twenty affiliates throughout China.41 At the shrine the litanies of Muhammad ‘Aqila, Laichi’s Meccan master, are still regularly read, but the dhikr is basically that of the Shadhiliyya.42
8
MODERN TRANSFORMATIONS ON
THE PATH (SEVENTEENTH TO
TWENTIETH CENTURIES)
The Naqshbandiyya, and especially its Mujaddidi and Khalidi offshoots, played a major role in the formulation of brotherhood Sufism’s response to the challenge of modernity. In the early modern period (sixteenth to nineteenth centuries) Naqshbandi teachings continued to be disseminated through pious preaching and advice to rulers. From the second half of the nineteenth century novel strategies had to be forged to cope with the new realities engendered by the growing impact of the West. The spread of rationalist thought, the consolidation of colonial and subsequent authoritarian Muslim States, and the rise of Islamic modernism and fundamentalism placed Naqshbandi masters and adepts before an acute dilemma. While the brotherhood’s emphatic orthodox outlook meant adherence to Islamic tradition, its activist legacy entailed accommodation to the new circumstances.
Subsequently Naqshbandi masters were to move between two opposing poles, the one conservative and the other modernist-fundamentalist. Most joined the conservative camp in a quest to preserve the Islamic and Sufi traditions. This endeavor, however, compelled them to take part in the hegemonic Western-dominated discourse and to collaborate with governments. As against them, some adepts of the brotherhood who were more attentive to changes brought about by the rising rates of literacy and popular participation moved to re-imagine Islam in the light of modern ideals and models. These justified themselves through a new myth of origins by which they could direct their rational-critical discourse toward both unseemly aspects of the tradition and the oppressive state. Concomitantly their brotherhoods were transformed into new forms of collective action such as cultural and educational associations, social movements, and political parties. This chapter deals with the early Naqshbandi-related thinkers and associations from their beginnings to World War I. In the following concluding chapter we will examine various innovative Naqshbandi branches and Naqshbandi-related organizations of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.
Antecedents to the modern transformation of the Naqshbandiyya can be found in all major arenas of its evolution, often in reaction to the weakening
of the political power. In the evermore feeble Ottoman Empire of the sixteenth century the puritan Naqshbandi-influenced scholar Mehmed Birgevi gave inspiration to the militant Kadizadeli movement, which in turn drew some Naqshbandi masters to its ranks. In the rapidly disintegrating Mughal Empire of the eighteenth century Naqshbandi soul searching was articulated either through the resigned philosophy of Nasir ‘Andalib and his son Mir Dard or in resorting to hadith studies of Shah Waliullah and his progeny. These Indian masters were affiliated to both the original Naqshbandiyya and the indigenous Mujadidiyya, and from the latter line sprang the jihad movement of Sayyid Ahmad Barelvi. Their Arab contemporary Muhammad ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhab, founder of the ultra-orthodox Wahhabi movement, may have had some Naqshbandi-Mujaddidi connection too. In Bukhara and the adjacent Tatar lands already under Russian rule at the turn of the nineteenth century, the Mujaddidi scholar Abunasir Kursavi went a step further by advocating a return to the scriptures and the use of a rational mode of ijtihad.
A Naqshbandi background is likewise discernible among major figures of the early Islamic modernist and fundamentalist trends of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The father of Indian modernism, Ahmad Khan, spent his childhood in the Mujaddidi lodge in Delhi before entering the service of the East India Company. His contemporary Siddiq Hasan Khan, a major figure in the fundamentalist Ahl-i Hadith movement located in the Muslim princely state of Bhopal, also claimed to belong to the Naqshbandiyya. The Young Ottoman movement was formed among proteges of the Khalidi-inspired bureaucrats of Istanbul, who had implemented the religiously-oriented early Tanzimat reforms. Khalidi influence is even more apparent in the case of the Salafi trend in the Arab provinces of the Ottoman Empire, despite their turn against the brotherhood. Among the prominent Salafis with roots in the Naqshbandi tradition we find Nu’man Khayr al-Din al-Alusi of Baghdad and Rashid Rida, who edited the influential journal al-Manar in Cairo. Shihabuddin Marjani too, founder of the Jadid movement in Central Asia, was initiated into the Naqshbandiyya.
Unlike the previous chapters, I do not purpose to reconstruct the main ideas and trajectories of the various modern thinkers and organizations that in one way or another were connected with the Naqshbandiyya. My aim is more modest, namely briefly to characterize each such individual or group, trace their specific Naqshbandi background, and examine to what extent they departed from the legacy of the brotherhood and what they retained. The literature of and about these thinkers and organizations, especially those with a modernist or fundamentalist thrust, is abundant, though their connections with the Naqshbandiyya are often concealed. The primary literature encompasses the traditional types of sources we have already met - manuals, polemical treatises, biographical dictionaries etc. From the late nineteenth
century, it is augment by a new substantial source, namely the press, the value of which will be demonstrated here by the example of al-Manar.
Antecedents
The role of the Naqshbandi brotherhood in the formation of modern Islamic trends first became apparent in the Ottoman Empire as early as the second half of the sixteenth century, as the Sultanate went into crisis and suffered military defeats. From the religious point of view political degeneration was the result of deviation from the shari’a and was to be remedied by eliminating un-Islamic practices. An early expression of this tendency is evinced in the work of the puritan preacher Mehmed Birgevi (d. 1573), especially his idea of the Prophetic Way (tariqa muhammadiyya). Birgevi’s career was closely connected with the Amir-i Bukhari lodge, the principal Naqsh- bandi institution in Istanbul at the time, and two of its head masters. He was admitted to the ranks of the scholarly estate thanks to the patronage of the brother-in-law and disciple of Shyakh Abdullatif, and later was installed in the College of Birgi, from where he derived his name, through the patronage of Sultan Selim II’s tutor and disciple of Shaykh Sha‘ban.1 Through the concept of the Prophetic Way Birgevi sought to transcend the multiplicity of the existing brotherhoods and condemned practices prevalent among them such as tomb visits and the mystical audition.2
Despite his censure of the Sufi brotherhoods, Mehmed Birgevi’s teachings were taken up by several Naqshbandis of Istanbul who supported his emphatic orthodox outlook. Most prominent were Mehmed Ma‘ruf Trabzuni (d. 1594), translator of Kashifi’s Rashahat ‘ayn al-hayah into Turkish, and Ahmed Tirevi (d. after 1620), head of the Hekim ^elebi lodge. In the seventeenth century, Birgevi’s writings were a major source of inspiration for the ultra-orthodox Kadizadeli movement.3 Named after Mehmed Kadizade (d. 1635), who was appointed preacher at several imperial mosques in the Ottoman capital in the 1620s, the movement came out against what it regarded as deviations from the path of the Qur’an and the Prophet’s Sunna. These included popular Sufi beliefs and practices like tomb visits, music and dance during the dhikr, and Ibn ‘Arabi’s teachings, along with social practices like the use of coffee and tobacco. Kadizadeli militancy was directed against the Sufis, particularly of the influential Khalwatiyya. It mobilized a large following in the principal Ottoman cities, demanding of their congregations to “enjoin the right and forbid the wrong” by actively seeking out sinners and forcing them back to the straight path. Critical also of the Ottoman bureaucracy and scholarly hierarchy, its leaders gained considerable influence in the court and enlisted official support for the implementation of their agenda.
Actual Naqshbandi involvement in the Kadizadeli movement was manifested in the case of Osman Bosnevi (d. 1664), Tirevi’s disciple who was both
administrator of the Hekim Celebi lodge and preacher at several of Istanbul’s imperial mosques. Bosnevi used the pulpit to propagate Kadizadeli principles and promoted its campaign against Sufi excesses. As against him Feyzullah Effendi of Erzurum (d. 1703), a future seyhulislam who had begun his career as a protege of the last Kadizadeli leader, decided in the 1680s, as the movement was petering out, to join Murad al-Bukhari, who had recently arrived in Istanbul to disseminate the new Naqshbandi- Mujaddidi path from India.4 Mehmed Birgevi and the Kadizadelis drew inspiration from the orthodox thrust of the Naqshbandiyya in general, and its abhorrence of practices transgressing the shari'a in particular. They departed from it, however, in both the reach of their denunciations, which came to include Ibn ‘Arabi’s teachings and tomb visits, as well as in their resort to violence in the effort to eradicate them.
The Prophetic Way comes up once again, though with considerably different meanings, among the Naqshbandis of eighteenth- and nineteenthcentury India. Acutely aware of the rapid disintegration of the Mughal Empire at the time, but with no central authority to rely on, various masters in Delhi of both the original Naqshbandiyya and the indigenous Mujaddidiyya were left to fend for themselves. In Chapter 4 we encountered Mazhar Jan-i Janan, head of the major Mujaddidi lodge in the Mughal capital, who abandoned any pretensions to influence the rulers to concentrate on safeguarding the interests of the Muslim community within the Hindu environment.5 Muhammad Nasir ‘Andalib and Mir Dard, originators of the Indian tariqa muhammadiyya, combined a similarly detached approach toward the state with a millenarian hope for the advent of the Mahdi. As against them, an activist interpretation of the Prophet’s example was embodied in the work of Shah Waliullah and his progeny, who were primarily revered as scholars of hadith. One offshoot of their efforts was the Jihad movement of Sayyid Ahmad Barelvi, which also defined itself as a Muhammadan way.
Nasir ‘Andalib (lit. the nightingale, d. 1759) was a descendent of Baha’uddin Naqshband and disciple of Sirhindi’s third successor in the Mujaddidiyya. His ancestors had arrived in India in Emperor Awrangzeb’s day, married into the Mughal family, and were given important positions in the administration. ‘Andalib himself, however, gave up a military career and chose a life of contemplation and poverty. Upon his master’s death in 1740 he claimed to have received divine inspiration to found a new path, with the aim of reviving the pure state of Islam as it had existed at the time of the Prophet. The founding document of the movement, Nala-i ‘Andalib (Lament of the Nightingale), was a compilation of lectures published the same year in reply to questions addressed to him by ulama and Sufis, as well as Hindu philosophers and Yogis.
The teachings of Nasir ‘Andalib were disseminated by his son and successor Mir Dard (lit. the prince of pain, d. 1785), especially through his
vast compendium of 111 treatises which he published in 1765 under the title ‘ilm al-kitab (the science of the book [the Qur’an]). Dard advised his followers to bear with patience the upheavals of the day and concentrate on prayer and good deeds. On the other hand, he described his father as the renewer of the eleventh Muslim century and, moreover, a reviver of the imama, the spiritual perfection that had lain dormant since the disappearance of the twelfth imam, as believed by the shi‘a. His adherents concluded that he and his father ‘Andalib were indeed Mahdis – the awaited ones. Dard regarded the Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya as a superior Sufi brotherhood and the Muhammadan Way as its offshoot. Still, he blamed his fellow Mujaddidi masters for failing to penetrate the depth of their tradition and added interpretations of his own to its teachings. Moreover, contrary to the Mujaddidi spirit Dard, who was an accomplished poet in both Persian and Urdu, organized mystical auditions which were attended by leading Muslim and non-Muslim musicians of Delhi.6 He justified the practice:
My sama’ is from God, and God is every time witness that the singers come on their own and sing whenever they want; not that I would call them and consider it as worship to listen to them, as others do; but I do not refuse such an act. However, I do not do it myself, and my creed is that of the masters [the Naqshbandis].7
Shah Waliullah (d. 1760), in many respects the most outstanding Islamic scholar in eighteenth-century India, derived from the example of the Prophet a more activist and this-worldly lesson. At the age of fifteen Waliullah was initiated by his father into the Naqshbandi branch of Khwaja Khurd, son of Baqi Billah, along with the Chishtiyya and Qadiriyya. Later he developed a preference for the Mujaddidiyya, which he came to regard as the most illustrious and pure brotherhood in India. He had firm ties with the branches of Muhammad Ma‘sum and of Adam Banuri, Sirhindi’s formidable deputy in the Punjab. Still, Waliullah was to be known as a scholar of hadith rather than a Naqshbandi master. This development was the result of a journey he undertook when approaching thirty to the Hijaz, during which he completed his studies with the leading ulama of the Haramayn. His foremost teacher was Abu Tahir, son of Ibrahim al-Kurani, who taught both Sufism and hadith in Medina.8 Contemplating remaining in the Hijaz, Waliullah had visions at that time which persuaded him to return to India and assume the task of reviving its religion.9
Unlike his contemporary Mujaddidi masters, Shah Waliullah developed a political vision for India, in which rulers and religious scholars were to work together to restore a stable Muslim government. Seeking actively to guide the rulers, he wrote letters to Mughal provincial administrators, and even to the Afghan king, to come and save Delhi. The appropriation of Waliullah as a precursor of the communal idea of Pakistan, as in Sirhindi’s case before him,
is nonetheless unwarranted, since he basically propagated the traditional Islamic political theory and had no intention of overturning the Mughal sociopolitical order or mobilizing the Muslim masses.10 Waliullah’s reputation rested on his scholarly endeavor to bring about a synthesis of the religious sciences of his day, embodied in his monumental work Hujjat Allah al-baligha (The Conclusive Proof). At its center lay the discipline of hadith, which was to serve as the basis for judgment in legal disputes among the four schools of law (ijtihad) and enhance the unity of the Muslim community in general. Walliullah therefore writes in the introduction,
The pillar and head of the absolute sciences, the edifice and foundation of the religious subjects is the science of hadith. In it are mentioned sayings, deeds and reports about what was issued from the best of messengers [Muhammad] . . . These are the lights in darkness and the signs of guidance. They are like the radiant full moon. He who follows and pays attention to them is on the right path and receives much good, he who turns away and avoids them goes astray and is misguided.11
Concomitantly Waliullah advocated a literal interpretation of the Qur’an, which he translated into Persian in the face of the criticism of the official scholars. His ecumenical attitude is apparent in the attempts to resolve the controversy over the Sufi doctrines of wahdat al-wujud and wahdat al-shuhud and to accommodate the Shi‘a.12
The practical adjustment inherent in Shah Waliullah’s teachings became more pronounced following the conquest of Delhi by the British in 1803. His son and successor ‘Abdulaziz (d. 1824), who kept his allegiance to the Mujaddidiyya and to Sufism at large,13 published a fatwa in which he implied that India had become the abode of war (dar al-harb). As Metcalf has shown, however, by giving India this status ‘Abdulaziz did not mean to call for military action against the British, which he knew was futile, but to make it possible for the Muslims to enjoy the economic advantages that such a status entailed, for example, collecting interest. In subsequent fatwas ‘Abdulaziz, contrary to the position of his contemporary Mujaddidi masters, permitted Muslims to learn English and work for the British.14
Following a similar logic, the popular Jihad movement that formed in the northern Indian countryside in the 1820s did not direct its energies against the British. Instead it sought to purify Islam of popular practices adopted from the Hindus and to create a basis for an ideal independent Muslim state. The leader of the movement, Sayyid Ahmed Barelvi (d. 1831), a native of the Shi‘i state of Oudh, studied with ‘Abdulaziz in 1807–1811 and enlisted the latter’s nephew, Muhammad Isma‘il (d. 1831), who formulated the basic documents of the movement in his al-Sirat al-mustaqim (The Strait Path) and Taqwiyat al-iman (Strengthening the Faith). In 1822 Barelvi and his
associates performed the hajj, during which he seems to have been influenced by Wahhabi ideas. This is evident in the rejection of popular practices associated with the saints’ tombs:
Visiting graves by males without any specification of date, year and particular congregation is desirable, rather than permissible . . . But to make long journeys to visit a grave with specification of date and time, to organize a fair or form a congregation, to light a lamp there, to build a mosque in the graveyard because of that grave, for a female to visit the grave, for one to write an obituary and some verses from the Qur’an on the grave or mausoleum, to say prayers near the grave, thinking it to be a better act, etc., are all unlawful, undesirable, and innovation.15
Far from rejecting Sufism as such, however, the Barelvis claimed to represent a synthesis of the three major Indian brotherhoods: the Naqshbandiyya, Chishtiyya, and Qadiriyya, along with the exoteric tariqa muhammadiyya embodying the unity of God and strict adherence to the shari‘a. They were highly successful in disseminating their puritan teachings among the Muslim populations in the Indian towns and villages. But their attempt to carve for themselves a territory in the Punjab ended in debacle when Barelvi, Isma‘il, and many of their followers were killed in a battle against the Sikhs in 1831.16
The legacy of the Jihad movement lingered on in India; however, following the bloody suppression of the Great Revolt and imposition of direct colonial rule in 1857–58 the movement lost its militant zeal. Still, its activist approach gave inspiration to several reformist trends which continue to dominate the Islamic scene of India to this day, from the traditionalist Deoband chain of schools to the quasi-fundamentalist organization of Nadwat al-Ulama. In the first case, the Barelvi tradition was transmitted by the influential Sufi master Hajji Imdadullah (d. 1899), the Sufi preceptor of the founders of Deoband, who was initiated into the Naqshbandiyya by Barelvi’s successor in the jihad movement. The Naqshbandi connection of Nadwat al-Ulama is discussed below.
There is no reason to doubt the attachment of ‘Andalib and Dard to the Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya. Their millenarian and ecumenical overtures were in line with the teachings of Sirhindi, the renewer of the second millennium, and of their contemporary Jan-i Janan, who also accepted Hindus in his circle. Dard’s predilection for mystical audition was indeed a deviation, but this may be regarded as part of the attempt to adjust to the deteriorating situation in Delhi. It was their critique of their contemporary Naqshbandi masters and the concomitant claim to have direct inspiration from the imams, which set ‘Andalib and his son apart from the main body of the Indian Naqshbandiyya. Shah Waliullah and his successors took a step
further by making their Naqshbandi affiliation second to the study of hadith and then transcending it altogether through their project of a purified Muslim state. Gaborieau maintains that such reformist ideas were imported to India from the Wahhabis of Arabia by the Barelvis, a view that seems to rest on the quietism of today’s leaders in Delhi.17 But the fact remains that those who adopted this kind of reformism had a firm footing in the Mujaddidi tradition, which from its very beginning stressed the importance of strict adherence to the shari‘a, as well as the duty to guide the rulers on its path.
Indeed, even in the case of the Wahhabiyya we find some Naqshbandi traces in the background, although the main influence on Muhammad ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhab (d. 1792) was undoubtedly the writings of the medieval Hanbali theologian Ahmad ibn Taymiyya. As Voll has shown, during his studies in Medina in his youth Ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhab studied with the Indian hadith scholar Muhammad Hayah al-Sindhi (d. 1750), who himself studied with Abu Tahir al-Kurani, and, like many others of the Madinese scholarly network, was initiated into the Naqshbandiyya. Besides Ibn ‘Abd al- Wahhab, his students included three prominent Naqshbandi masters of the time: Isma‘il al-Uskudari of Medina, ‘Ali Muradi of Damascus, and ‘Abd al-Rahman al-‘Aydarus of Yemen.18
In Central Asia and among the Tatars of the Volga Basin, the beginnings of a modern critical approach to popular practices are associated with the name of Abunasir Kursavi (d. 1812). Hailing from the province of Kazan, Kursavi, like many of his compatriots under Russian rule, set out in the first decade of the nineteenth century to complete his studies in Bukhara. Here he became a disciple of the oppositional Mujaddidi master Muhammad Niyazquli,19 and possibly under his inspiration began to preach direct reliance on the scriptures and rejection of latter-day traditions. His ideas aroused the animosity of the religious establishment, which was dominated by more conservative Naqshbandi masters. Kursavi was summoned to an official interrogation by Amir Haydar, in the wake of which he was compelled to repent and his books were publicly burnt. The intervention of Niyazquli secured his return to his native village, where Kursavi re-asserted his ideas and called for rational deliberation. Again meeting with fierce indignation, he decided to leave for the hajj and died on the way in Istanbul. Kursavi’s teachings were taken up by several Tatar scholars and subsequently formed the basis of the modernist Jadid movement.20
Early modernism and fundamentalism
Although the trends of Islamic Modernism and Fundamentalism are commonly associated with the modern assault on the Sufi aspect of Islam, many of their early thinkers had a reformist Sufi background.21 In the Indian subcontinent, the Ottoman Empire, and Central Asia such thinkers were
generally connected with the Naqshbandiyya brotherhood. Both trends emerged in parallel in the second half of the nineteenth century when, following the Industrial revolution and the development of new means of communication, Western political and cultural colonialism entered a new and more aggressive phase. In response to the mounting challenge, individuals and groups of intellectuals from various parts of the Muslim world appropriated modern Western points of view and sought ways to reform their political and religious traditions in their light. The difference between Modernists and Fundamentalists was initially a question of emphasis. While the former tended openly to refer to Western ideas and values, the latter sought to ground their borrowings in the Muslim faith through a reimagination of the original myth of Islam. Consequently, while Islamic Modernism has remained an elitist intellectual group, Fundamentalism could gain a large following among the Muslim masses and become enmeshed in politics.
In British India, Sayyid Ahmad Khan (d. 1898), the founding father of the Modernist trend, dedicated himself to the dissemination of Western culture and sciences among his Muslim compatriots. He was born in Delhi to an aristocratic Mughal family, and both his parents were closely attached to Ghulam ‘Ali. The intimate relation between them is vividly described by Ahmad’s biographer:
When Sir Sayyid Khan was born, his father requested Shah Ghulam ‘Ali to name the child. Shah Sahib had already named Sir Sayyid’s elder brother Muhammad and therefore he chose the name Ahmad. Sir Sayyid’s paternal grandfather had died before Mir Muttaqi [his father] married, and so the children always called Shah Sahib dada hazrat (‘grandfather’). Shah Sahib was also very fond of them and treated them as if they were his own children. He had never had a family of his own and would say that although the Almighty God spared him the ordeal of raising children, he had been granted the love of the children of Mir Muttaqi.22
As a young man Ahmad also attended the monthly meetings in the lodge of Muhammad Nasir (d. 1845), successor of Mir Dard in the Prophetic Way. Ahmad Khan’s early religious outlook was shaped by these Naqshbandi- Mujaddidi connections, as well as by the religious teachings of the Waliullahi school and the practices exercised in the Jihad movement of Ahmad Barelvi. In a book he penned in 1846, Khan accordingly praises the inhabitants of Delhi for adopting tariqat-i sunnat-i Muhammadi, foremost among them the masters of the Mujaddidiyya. Six years later he composed a defense of the Sufi practice of tasawwur-i shaykh (visualization of the spiritual master) at the request of followers of Ghulam ‘Ali, in which he tried to show that it was a proper and legal means to develop a love of God in the heart of the adept.
Still within the confines of the Naqshbandi tradition, in other treatises he denounced deviations from the Sunna and excessive submission to the Sufi master within the popular brotherhoods.23
At that time however, contrary to the position of Ghulam ‘Ali, Ahmad Khan took a post in the East India Company. The Great Revolt of 1857, to which he was opposed, completed his transformation and led him to dedicate his energies to bringing about a rapprochement between the British rulers and their Muslim subjects. Khan was deeply troubled by the deplorable state of the Indian Muslim community of his day and believed that the adoption of Western civilization would enable the Muslims to compete with the Hindu majority. He rejected the tradition and reduced the essence of Islam to the Qur’an, which was reinterpreted in light of modern reason and science. Social practices that did not conform to Western liberal standards were similarly rejected. Following a prolonged visit to England in 1870, Khan established the journal Tahdhib al-Akhlaq (Refinement of Morals) to disseminate Western thought and sciences and founded the Muhammadan Anglo- Oriental College at Aligarh, which was designed to train young Muslims for service in the colonial administration.24
The leaders of the Indian Fundamentalist trend, the Ahl-i Hadith, likewise had some connections with the Naqshbandiyya. This seems to have been the case with their foremost figure, Siddiq Hasan Khan (d. 1889), who claimed to belong to the brotherhood and to follow the path of Shah Waliullah. Others were disciples and followers of Sayyid Ahmad Barelvi. Motivated by
Plate 8.1 The Aligarh Muslim University
the feeling that the end of the world was imminent, Ahl-i Hadith intellectuals strove to create a single standard interpretation of the faith based on their own rational deliberation (ijtihad ); they bitterly rejected the schools of law, Modernists such as Ahmad Khan, Sufi brotherhoods, and all kinds of popular practices. Hasan Khan insisted that Sufism be confined to the private sphere, that theosophical speculation be wholly rejected, and that the Naqshbandi practice of rabita be eliminated.25
In the Ottoman capital the representatives of early Islamic Modernism were generally known as the Young Ottomans. This group of religious- minded intellectuals and bureaucrats supported the state program of modernization known as the Tanzimat, but objected to the Westernizing turn it took during the 1850s under the high-handed conduct of the Sublime Porte. An early expression of opposition to the Reform Edict of 1856, which promised equality to non-Muslims, was organized within three years by the Khalidi master Ahmad of Sulaymaniyya.26 The Young Ottomans, who were organized in 1865 as a secret society, were influenced, though less directly, by the orthodox ideals of the Khalidiyya. Many of them were proteges of Grand Vizier Mustafa Resid, the architect of the early religious-oriented part of the Tanzimat reforms. Their foremost protagonist, Namik Kemal (d. 1888), also followed the lead of contemporary poets affiliated with the brotherhood.27 In contrast to the emerging autocratic state, the Young Ottomans resorted to Western notions of freedom and fatherland, claiming that they were actually Islamic. Helping to bring about the Constitution in 1876, they were suppressed by Sultan Abdulhamid II and gave way to the secularized movement of the Young Turks.28
Islamic Modernism penetrated the Arab provinces of the Ottoman Empire both through the agency of the Young Ottomans and through Egyptian religious reformers, most notably the celebrated Muhammad ‘Abduh (d. 1905), who spent some years in exile in Beirut. Here it combined, in various degrees, with the fundamentalist trend of the (modern) Salafiyya, which emerged in the late 1870s in Baghdad and spread during the 1880s to Syria, from where it was subsequently taken to Egypt and other parts of the Arab world.29 The early Salafis were mostly middle status men of religion who opposed Abdulhamid’s autocratic regime in general, and his encouragement of popular Sufi brotherhoods and conservative ulama in particular. They had firmer roots in the Khalidi tradition than their colleagues in Istanbul, but they also more sharply detached themselves from the current leaders and practices of the brotherhood in favor of the teachings of Ibn Taymiyya.
The rise of the modern Salafi trend was heralded by the publication in 1881 of a lengthy treatise in defense of Ibn Taymiyya by the Baghdadi scholar Nu'man Khayr al-Din al-Alusi (d. 1899). The work combined a sharp critique of the Sufi practices of saint worship and tomb visits with a new rationalist notion of ijtihad. In his anti-Sufi diatribes, Khayr al-Din followed in the footsteps of his father, Abu al-Thana’ al-Alusi (d. 1854), who
had imbibed Wahhabi ideas prevalent in early nineteenth-century Baghdad while also belonging to the circle of Shaykh Khalid, the founder of the Naqshbandiyya-Khalidiyya.30 Abu al-Thana’s admiration for Khalid had never waned, but his quarrel with the master’s successors led him later in life to incline to a peaceful version of the Wahhabi teachings. Khayr al-Din’s adoption of a rationalist ijtihad was inspired by his acquaintance with the ideas of the Indian Ahl-i Hadith leader, Siddiq Hasan. Consequently, Khayr al-Din targeted the Khalidi practice of rabita, which both had agreed was an unlawful innovation with no basis in the Qur’an or Sunna. The main adversary of the Salafis of Baghdad was the conservative scholar Da’ud ibn Jirjis, the leading contemporary Khalidi master in the city.31
In the course of the 1880s the focus of Salafi thought shifted to Damascus. Its principal protagonists in that city, ‘Abd al-Razzaq al-Baytar (d. 1916) and Jamal al-Din al-Qasimi (d. 1914), were likewise descendents of local disciples of Khalid. Unlike their colleagues in Baghdad, however, they maintained close relations with Khalid’s local successors, the Khanis. All three families were part of the mystic circle of Amir ‘Abd al-Qadir al-Jaza’iri who, as we have seen, had himself received the Khalidiyya in his youth. On arrival in Damascus in 1855, following his defeat in Algeria and imprisonment in France, ‘Abd al-Qadir became immersed in the teachings of Ibn ‘Arabi, through which he tried to accommodate modern Western ideas.32
The major adversary of the Khanis over the leadership of the Khalidiyya in Damascus, As‘ad al-Sahib, was also a bitter enemy of the Salafis.33 In a number of treatises Sahib undertook to defend the practice of rabita and orthodox Sufism at large and repeatedly sought to incriminate his rivals with the Ottoman authorities. As against him Qasimi, the mouthpiece of the early Damascene Salafiyya, propagated the principles of rational ijtihad and unity of the Muslim umma but, like his Iraqi counterparts, refused to condemn Ibn ‘Arabi and described shar‘ia-oriented Sufism as the moral basis of Islam.34
Khalidi influence was less conspicuous in Aleppo, but here too the brotherhood had a hand in the formation of a combined Modernist-Salafi trend. The roots of several of the major intellectuals of the city can be traced to the circle of Husayn al-Bali (d. 1855), a native of Gaza who was invited to Aleppo in mid-century after being initiated into the Khalidiyya by a senior disciple of Muhammad al-Khani in Damascus. Bali spent only six years in Aleppo before his premature death, but his legacy was carried on by disciples, who raised his minor son, the future historian Kamil al-Ghazzi (d. 1933). He and his step-brother, the linguist Bashir al-Ghazzi (d. 1921), had a keen interest in literature and science, and they associated with Europeans and local Christians to acquire knowledge. ‘Abd al-Rahman al-Kawakibi (d. 1904), among the most eloquent religious reformists in late Ottoman Aleppo and Syria at large, belonged to this group, being the son of one of Bali’s foremost disciples.35
Like their colleagues in Baghdad and Damascus, the Aleppine Modernist and fundamentalist scholars adopted an oppositional stance on Abdülhamid II’s autocratic rule and criticized conservative ulama and popular Sufis who were ready to be harnessed to the Sultan’s populist policies. Their attitude was clearly articulated in the writings of Kawakibi, especially his Umm al-qura (a name of Mecca), in which he proves himself well acquainted with the principles of the Naqshbandiyya. One of the participants at the imaginary Islamic conference described in the book is al-Shaykh al-Sindhi. After listening to the speeches of his colleagues about the ills of the Muslim umma he is made to confess that
I am from among the deputies of the Naqshbandi brotherhood, as my late father transmitted this brotherhood to the eastern and southern regions of India. I succeeded my father as the source for all its deputies, and then I made repeated journeys to those destinations and to the lands of Kashmir, Kazan, and even Siberia and their like. Because our endeavors to spread our path, it became very popular and widespread among the Muslims of these lands.
It is well known that our brotherhood is among the closest to sincerity and the least deviant from the letter of the Law. It is founded on the silent recollection and the reading of the Khwajagan litany, meditation on the guide and asking the help of the spirits. It never occurred to me that in the recollection and the reading of the litany in this way there was any suspicion of innovation or addition to the faith, or that in meditation and asking help from the spirits of the prophets and saints there was a hint of association with God (shirk), until I attended these blessed meetings, heard [your words], became convinced, and am prepared to renounce [such practices], praise be to God.36
Naqshbandi-Khalidi background is even more clearly evident in the case of Muhammad Rashid Rida (d. 1935), who more than anyone else is associated with the consolidation of the modern Salafiyya. In an autobiographical sketch Rida recollects how at his youth in Tripoli he followed the path under a Naqshbandi master, whose name he omits, and gained extraordinary spiritual experiences.37 Within the orthodox framework of the brotherhood he became critical of popular Sufi practices, and was especially dismayed by the dancing and singing he witnessed in the Mevlevi dhikr. This criticism intensified after Rida left in 1898 for Egypt, where he came under the influence of the Modernist ‘Abduh and the works of Ibn Taymiyya and launched his famous Salafi journal al-Manar.
As Hourani has shown, under the impression of the popular festivals of saints (mawlid) prevalent in Egypt, Rida’s critique of Sufism exceeded the traditional bounds. He now doubted the possibility of most Muslims
Plate 8.2 Muhammad Rashid Rida
reaching the advanced stages of the path, and rejected the total obedience required of the disciple toward his master, as well as of the chain of initiation at large.38 In his journal’s section of legal opinions (fatawa al-Manar) Rida took the opportunity presented by two questions sent from Singapore and Malaysia to sum up the Salafi position on the Naqshbandi practice of the rabita:
I say that tawajjuh [concentration of master and disciple on each other] and rabita have nothing to do with religion and it is impermissible that they pass as lawful worship in Islam. I do not hold that every person who practices or will practice them is an unbeliever, but I fear that those who follow this brotherhood [the Naqshbandiyya] without knowing the Law and realizing the truth of the soul are closer to idolatry than to monotheism in what happens between the master and the disciple. Moreover, in my judgment there is a certain open or secret association with God in it . . . The disciple who knows
the Muslim doctrine can combine monotheism and the imagination of his master during the recollection of God most high by imagining that he sits in his circle, and that he [the master] supervises his manners and the presence of his heart in His recollection. He must believe that [this practice] brings neither benefit nor harm, and he should not aim at receiving reward, but only persist in it for the sake of God almighty alone.39
Naqshbandi traces of the Mujaddidi type are found in the Modernist trend which emerged in the second half of the nineteenth century in the Muslim lands under Russian government, generally referred to as Jadidism. Among the early figures of this trend was the Tatar scholar Shihabuddin Marjani (d. 1889), who took up and further developed the reformist ideas of Kursavi. Like his predecessor, Marjani studied in Bukhara, where he was initiated into the Naqshbandi path by Niyazquli’s son and successor, ‘Ubay- dullah (d. 1852). Marjani inspired a generation of seminar-trained Modernists in Bukhara before he returned to take office as preacher and teacher in the Grand Mosque of Kazan. Like the Arab Salafis, his most ardent opponents were conservative Naqshbandi masters, who objected to his departures from the basic tenets of their brotherhood.40 The Sufi affiliations of other early Mujaddidi intellectuals, especially from the Crimea and the Caucasus, need more research.
9
THE CONTEMPORARY SITUATION
During the twentieth century and into the present Naqshbandi masters have developed a variety of strategies to face the challenges of modernity and postmodernity. These have normally involved collaboration with one or another of the dominant forces of the age: the nation-state and its upper classes, Islamic modernism and fundamentalism, Western culture, and globalization. Masters of the Naqshbandiyya, the Mujaddidiyya, and especially the Khalidiyya are thus able to continue to voice their vision of Islam in the national and global public spheres. This, however, is done at the price of major modifications in their modes of operation and in their general commitment to the orthodoxy of the brotherhood. Such modifications may include turning the dhikr into a sober religious lesson or its abandonment altogether, propagating the message to Muslims as well as non-Muslims, and the substitution of the personal contact between master and disciple with the most advanced mass means of communication.
In India, Naqshbandi-Mujaddidi endeavors to face the empowerment of the Hindu majority gave birth in the late nineteenth century to two diametrically opposed movements. One was Nadwat al-Ulama (the Council of Religious Scholars), which strove to unite the various Islamic trends in British India and tighten connections with the Arab world. The Council’s head and all-India Muslim leader in the second half of the twentieth century, Abu al-Hasan ‘Ali al-Nadwi, combined his role as a Naqshbandi master with close relations with fundamentalist elements in the Middle East, including the Saudi government and the Muslim Brothers society. The other movement was a Hindu Naqshbandi branch, in which the path has been transmitted among Hindu divines.
Turkey remained a major arena of Naqshbandi and Naqshbandi-inspired activity even after the demise of the Ottoman Empire, despite the ban imposed on Sufi activity by Ataturk’s secularizing regime in 1925. Naqshbandi masters were forced to go underground or into exile but during the 1970s, as state inspection was relaxed, the brotherhood re-surfaced and gained a new prominence. A powerful branch was established at that time in Istanbul by the Khalidi Zahid Kotku, head of an informal educational
institution which appealed to religious-minded elements among the elite. Earlier in the century the modernist thinker Said Nursi, an adept of the Kurdish Khalidiyya, founded the Nurcu movement, in which reading and debating his writings replaced the guidance of Sufi masters. Today a wide network of Nurcu schools is spread all over Turkey and among the Turkic peoples of Central Asia and immigrants to the West. This educational enterprise has been further expanded and updated by the Gulen and Sulaymangi movements.
Almost nothing is known about the Naqshbandiyya-Khalidiyya in the Sunni Arab parts of Iraq, whereas in Egypt, as we have seen, it has remained relatively marginal. In Syria, by contrast, the brotherhood has come to play a major role since the rise of the Ba’th to power in 1964 in both the religious establishment and the Islamist resistance. Ahmad Kuftaru, Grand Mufti of Syria for more than forty years, was also the founder and head of the Khalidiyya-Kaftariyya, the largest Sufi organization in the country. Serving faithfully President Asad throughout his life, he was rewarded with a free hand in promoting his cherished agendas of securing Islamic education in Syria and preaching a global inter-faith dialogue. On the other hand, Khalidi influence is apparent in the formation and direction of the northern branch of the Muslim brothers, the backbone of the Islamist opposition to the ‘Alawi-dominated authoritarian Ba’th regime. Many leaders of the resistance and its major ideologue shared a Khalidi background.
In Uzbekistan, the heart of Central Asia, the Naqshbandiyya has witnessed a conspicuous revival since the demise of the Soviet Union and the establishment of independent states. Masters of the brotherhood in Tashkent and Bukhara continue to serve the state, while those in the Feghana valley follow their tradition of resistance to its secular policies. In Afghanistan, Sibghatullah Mujaddidi, scion of the leading Naqshbandi family in the country, had been influenced by the Egyptian Muslim Brothers during his studies at al-Azhar in the 1950s. Following the Soviet invasion of 1979 he founded his own Islamist resistance organization, the National Liberation Front, and in 1992 he was nominated the first mujahidin’s president. In Indonesia, various Khalidi and Mujaddidi offshoots ranging from the conservative to the modernist disseminate the path to ever new regions, often in collaboration with the upper and middle classes of the country.
In the last few decades Naqshbandi masters and adepts are to be found at the forefront of Sufi endeavors to adapt to the global setting. This is understandable in the case of the unorthodox or less orthodox branches of the brotherhood, such as the Hindu branch, which was carried to Britain by a Western convert and formed the basis of the Sufi Golden Center in the United States. Of a similar mold is Subud, a syncretistic spiritual technique which likewise has been integrated into the New Age culture. Developed by an Indonesian Naqshbandi adept, it is being taught today to all interested people, Muslim and non-Muslim alike, in many corners of the world. As
against both, the Haqqaniyya, apparently the most visible Sufi brotherhood on the current global scene, remains deeply committed to the Naqshbandi tradition. Its founder and head, the Khalidi Cypriot Nazim al-Haqqani, holds a basically conservative ideology with eschatological overtones and is a bitter enemy of the fundamentalists. Still, he spreads his message through the most advanced media, including the Internet, and accepts non-Muslim disciples in the hope of converting them in due course to Islam.
While learned books are still occasionally produced by Naqshbandi masters and followers, these are increasingly superceded by the various modern mass means of communication. The main sources for the study of the current situation of the Naqshbandiyya include popular books, pamphlets and journal articles that explore the principal tenets and rites of the brotherhood, audio and video cassettes that record the discourses of its masters, and most recently the Internet.
Internationalism and syncretism in India
Among the various Islamic reformist trends that emerged in late nineteenthcentury India, particularly associated with the Naqshbandi tradition was Nadwat al-Ulama. It was founded in 1892 in the town of Kanpur U.P. by a group of religiously-minded government officials, local notables, and religious scholars, most of whom were followers of a local Naqshbandi- Mujaddidi master, Fadl al-Rahman Ganj Muradabadi (d. 1894). Their first leader was his deputy, Sayyid Muhammad ‘Ali Mongiri (d. 1927). Alarmed by the Western challenge and particularly by Christian missionary activity in India, Mongiri had founded a cultural society and two journals in which he advocated reform of the traditional Muslim institutions of learning. The Council was unable to unite the Indian ulama under its banner, so in 1898 it established its own college in Lucknow which specialized in the teaching of Arabic language and culture.1
After some vicissitudes, in 1914 the directorship of Nadwat al-Ulama was given to ‘Abd al-Hayy al-Hasani (d. 1923), another follower of Ganj Muradabadi and a close associate of Mongiri, who turned it into an actual family patrimony. Hasani’s ancestors had been affiliated to Sayyid Ahmad Barelvi and further back to Sirhindi. His descendents, who came to be known as the Nadwis, continued this connection to the Mujaddidiyya. This was particularly the case with Abu al-Hasan ‘Ali al-Nadwi (d. 1999), who during the second half of the twentieth century figured not merely as the Council’s head but as a distinguished leader of the entire Muslim community of India in the face of insurgent Hinduism. Nadwi became acquainted with Sirhindi’s Maktubat at the age of seventeen,2 and then followed the path under two Mujaddidi masters. He remained a Mujaddidi master all his life, combining it with close contacts with fundamentalist elements in the Middle East, most notably the Muslim Brothers Society of Egypt and Syria. A
Plate 9.1 Leisure time at Nadwat al-Ulama, Lucknow
remarkable articulation of the new Sufi-fundamentalist synthesis that Nadwi wished to create appeared in an article he published in the 1950s in the organ of the Syrian Muslim Brothers:
Terms and names of things that are in vogue among the people often offend truths. This offense has a long story in every profession and language, every literature and religion. It generates another thing, which raises doubts, brings about controversies, and creates factions. Arguments and proofs are produced and fierce verbal fighting rages around them. If we renounce these invented terms and customary names and return to the past and to words through which such truths were expressed in a simple and convenient way, to what was spoken by the first generation [of Islam] and the early ancestors (al- salaf ), the difficulty would be resolved, the situation would become easy and the people would be put on the right path.
Among these terms and common names that have spread among the people is Sufism . . . There is no trace of it in the Qur’an or the example of the Prophet, it does not appear in the words of his contemporaries or their followers, nor in the reports on the first century. Everything like that is from among the invented deviations. Battles have raged between its followers and detractors, supporters and opponents, who created a huge literature beyond any imagination.
If we were to abandon this term, which emerged and spread in the second century, and return to the Qur’an, Sunna and the era of the Companions and followers, and if we were to look at the Qur’an and hadith, we would find that the Qur’an indicates a religious branch and a Prophetic task that is called purification (tazkiya) . . . purification of the souls, their instruction, adoration of virtues and release from vices.3
Nadwi was a founding member of the international Saudi-sponsored Muslim World League and the founding chairman of the board of trustees of the Oxford Centre for Islamic Studies.4
An entirely different course was followed by spiritual descendents of Shah Na'imullah Bahraichi, Ghulam ‘Ali’s main rival for the leadership of the Mujaddidi lodge in late eighteenth-century Delhi. This line, also located in the Lucknow region, rested on the tolerant attitude of Jan-i Janan towards non-Muslims, and in one case was moved to transmit the teachings and methods of the path to Hindus. This utterly unorthodox step was initiated by the otherwise orthodox master Abu al-Hasan Nasirabadi (d. 1856). In his last years, just before the incorporation of the Oudh state into the British Empire, Nasirabadi assigned to one of his deputies in the rural area the task of not merely accepting Hindu “infidels” to his circle, but actually handing over to them the spiritual authority to perpetuate the path among themselves. His instruction was realized only in the 1890s by a deputy from the rural hinterland of Lucknow who began to initiate into the path Muslim as well as Hindu deputies.
The first adept among the Hindu disciples was Ramchandra Saksena (d. 1931), who in due course was ordained as deputy and founded a Hindu Naqshbandi spiritual lineage. Ramchandra and his successors combined the Mujaddidi doctrine of the seven subtle centers of the body (lata’if) and the practice of tawajjuh on the one hand, with elements pertaining to the Hindu Vaisnava tradition, including abstention from wine and meat consumption and ritual ablutions, on the other. They regarded themselves as following the way of Kabir, one of the forebears of the Sikh religion. Under the next head of this Hindu Naqshbandi branch, Brja Mohan Lal (d. 1955), its center of activity moved to Kanpur, and then to Delhi. After his death a gradual process of dispersion set in and led to the emergence of several distinct assemblies which carry on the tradition.5
Education and politics in Turkey
In the wake of the bloody suppression of the Shaykh Said revolt in 1925 and the resulting ban on organized Sufi activity, the Turkish Naqshbandiyya was forced underground. Kemalist ideology portrayed it, and the Sufi brotherhoods at large, as a threat to the modern and secular character of the
republic. Persecution was intensified in the aftermath of the Menemen incident of 1930, a disturbance in the Aegean region which according to the official version was instigated by local Naqshbandis.6 In the following decades various Naqshbandi groupings transformed themselves from purely religious networks into informal educational and cultural associations. The strategies adopted by their masters included a new emphasis on the orthodoxy of their tradition, abandonment of the lodges and taking positions as imams in mosques, and a recast of the practice of suhba into a religious conversation directed by the master. With the institution of democracy in the country after 1945, and still more following the liberalization of the 1980s, the Naqshbandiyya, which has remained the most popular brotherhood in Turkey, was able to renew its public activity and regain influence in the political arena.7
Among those arrested in the wake of the Menemen incident were two prominent Khalidi masters from Istanbul. One was the aged Mehmed As’ad Irbili,8 who after the founding of the republic gathered his disciples in private. He abandoned the Naqshbandi dhikr and initiation ceremony and confined himself to suhba, teaching the articles of faith, and reading works of Ibn ‘Arabi. Yavuz claims that the whole incident was in fact orchestrated by the state in order to kill this master. Irbili died, or was poisoned, in jail in 1931, and his son was executed.9
The other master was Abdulhakim Arvasi (d. 1943) from the Hakkari province, who arrived in Istanbul after the First World War and revived the Kashghari lodge in Eyup. Arvasi showed special interest in Sirhindi’s Maktubat and continued to guide disciples along the Naqshbandi and Qadiri paths even after 1925. Following his release from prison he abandoned the lodge, but continued his Sufi activity in private and through his books. Arvasi was a source of influence for many religious-minded intellectuals in Istanbul, among them the eminent poet Necip Fazil Kisakurek who courageously defended Islamic values on the pages of his journal, and Huseyn Hilmi Isiq (d. 2001), who was recognized as the successor a decade after the master’s death. He is the founder of the Isiqji movement which, according to Zarcone, strives to realize the spiritual legacy of the Naqshbandiyya while dispensing with the traditional framework of the tariqa. The movement has particular appeal among students and it is backed by influential financial circles.10
In the long run, more important were the branches belonging to the line of Gumushanevi, the principal Khalidi master in late Ottoman Istanbul.11 Among his deputies, Abdulaziz Bekkine (d. 1952) worked as imam while continuing the guidance of disciples in clandestine. In his lineage the vocal dhikr was preferred over the silent dhikr.12 Bekkine was succeeded by Mehmed Zahid Kotku, apparently the most influential Sufi master in republican Turkey. Kotku was born in Bursa in 1897 and followed the Naqshbandi path in Istanbul. After the closure of Sufi lodges he returned to his
hometown, until in 1952 he was called back to take Bekkine’s place. Six years later Kotku received a post in the Iskenderpasa mosque in Fateh quarter. Enjoying the more auspicious atmosphere of the 1950s, he turned it into a kind of “open university” which attracted students from all over Turkey. His popular lectures blended mystical interpretations of hadith in Gumu- shanevi’s spirit with advocacy of economic development checked by a Sufi- Islamic morality.13 His writings include the five-volume Encyclopedia of Sufi Morals, in which he stresses the importance of finding a true spiritual master and laments the closure of the Sufi lodges in Turkey:
Many years ago, there were dergahs called tekke (dervish convents), which provided spiritual training and education to the people. Since there were perfect and perfecting teachers available then, those attending these places could attain as good moral and spiritual progress as their destiny permitted. At the same time dergahs were community schools of social and personal training. Many moral and spiritual practices, as well as teaching, to enlighten the inner world of people and to develop in them beautiful attitudes, manners and virtues, used to be carried out there. . . In time some of those tekkes lost their originality and became degraded. The defective ones being considered to have undesirable social effects, they were all banned. The vacuum created by their physical disappearance was filled by cafes, discos and taverns.14
Kotku’s ideas could be implemented in full only after his death in 1980, which coincided with the military coup that led to reduced state intervention in social affairs. Among his followers were several prominent academics and politicians who were to assume leading positions in the country in the 1980s and 1990s. These included Turgut Ozal, the leader of the Motherland Party and Prime Minister and President of Turkey from 1983 until his death in 1993, and Necmettin Erbakan, who established with Kotku’s backing the first political movement based on Islamic ideology in Turkey, soon to be named the National Salvation Party. Erbakan advocated a “just economic order” based on moral considerations and private initiative, which won him the support of provincial businessmen and artisans. He joined two coalition governments before being appointed, as head of the successor Welfare Party, Prime Minister of Turkey in 1996. Erbakan held office for a little more than a year until the army intervened to remove him and dissolved the party. It reappeared yet again as the Virtue party.15
In the brotherhood itself Kotku was succeeded by Esad Cosan (19382001),16 his son-in-law and professor of theology in Istanbul University. Exploiting the new space opened up in the 1980s, he turned the Iskenderpasa mosque into the hub of educational, economic, and communications networks, while advocating peaceful adjustment to the modern state and the
capitalist market. Cosan attracted wealthy businessmen and merchants, and with their help developed economic enterprises and religious endowments for the benefit of the community. His moral economic vision was propagated through his own magazines and radio station, and later also through the Internet. At the same time Cosan became critical of Erbakan’s focus on politics,17 and suggested the formation of a council encompassing all Naqshbandi-related associations in Turkey.18 He was also active in propagating the path abroad, notably in Australia, where he died in a car accident.19
Under his son and successor, Nuruddin Cosan, the headquarters of the organization moved to a prestigious neighborhood on Istanbul’s Asian side. From there it continues to run a network of schools, various economic firms, two hospitals, and a radio station, and is associated with the Common Sense party, which has some members in parliament. Yavuz’s observation that to a certain extent the brotherhood had become secularized and that its path was modified by profane concerns was brought to me on a visit to the place in the summer of 2005. I could hardly have anticipated the business-like modern premises where I arrived. As Cosan himself was in Australia at the time I was received by the General Coordinator, who spoke fluent English and even uttered some Hebrew words he had picked up in his previous job in the tourist resorts of Antalia. In the ensuing conversation little was said about Islam, the focus being on the endeavors of the organization to provide needy Muslims with worldly and moral help.20
As against the pragmatic accommodation of the Iskenderpasa group,
Plate 9.2 The Iskenderpasa mosque in Fateh, Istanbul
which puts the stress on the activist side of the Naqshbandiyya, Istanbul also hosts one of the most orthodox branches of the brotherhood in Turkey, headed by Mahmud Ustaosmanoglu in the Ismail Aga mosque in ^arsambe quarter. His followers come mostly from the lower strata of society and from the countryside. These prefer the traditional gown (black among women) to Western clothing and refrain from watching TV.21 Unlike the Iskenderpasa group, at the Ismail Aga mosque I was asked to convert to Islam before an interview would be granted with the master or any of his lieutenants. Grudgingly I was allowed to watch from afar the evening dhikr, which was basically composed of chanting verses from the Qur’an and a religious lesson. About one hundred people attended this meeting.22
Less information is available on the Turkish branches operating outside Istanbul. A clue to the generally adaptationist strategies of local masters is exemplified in the biography of Osman Hulusi Ates (d. 1990), from a small town in the province of Malatia. The son of a Khalidi family that lost its fortune following the founding of the republic, Ates had to contend himself with a modest religious post. With the relaxation of the 1950s, he gathered around him a group of followers. His standing was enhanced in the 1970s and 1980s with the incorporation of the area into the national market and migration to the big cities. Ates became patron of the local population and used his client networks to establish ties with bureaucrats and political party members on the national level.23
Of a different mold was the radical group that operated in Konya in the
Plate 9.3 Ismail Aga mosque in ^arsambe, Istanbul
1980s. Its militant fundamentalist stances can be gauged from its monthly journal. Exhibiting a sense of superiority over all other brotherhoods, the authors denigrated worldly concerns, stressed their political commitment, and rejected “materialist” Western culture, science, and technology. The Konya Naqshbandis portrayed a world in which non-Islamic governments, capitalist America and communist Soviet Union, all backed by Zionism, strive to weaken the Muslims. In response they evoked the Sufi great struggle (jihad al-akbar) to suppress evil desires and concentrate on the one God. This entailed withdrawal from the non-believing society, resigning from government jobs, and abandoning democracy and political parties. It was to be followed by the smaller struggle ( jihad al-asghar) of retaliation, an uncompromising attack against the infidels to be conducted by the party of God (hizbullah), consisting of those ready to sacrifice their lives for the cause.24
The Naqshbandiyya-Khalidiyya remained strong in the Kurdish regions of Turkey, despite the cruel persecution in the early days of the republic. Its presence is particularly felt in the small towns and rural areas, where its masters keep closer to traditional Sufism. The main center of the Kurdish Khalidiyya is located in the village of Menzil near Adyaman. The foundations were laid by Abdulhakim Huseyni (d. 1972), who in 1938 established there a school and a lodge after he had received the path from Ahmad Ghiznawi in Syria.25 His enterprise was consolidated by his charismatic son, Mehmed Resid Erol (d. 1993), who disseminated the path among both Kurds and Turks. His enormous popularity aroused the apprehension of the military, and following the 1980 coup he was banished for two years to the shores of the Sea of Marmara. Subsequently, with the restitution of party politics, Erol was often courted by political parties seeking his vote.26 Menzil has become today a major pilgrimage site. Thousands of followers from all over Turkey and Turkish emigres to Western Europe arrive daily to visit the magnificent mausoleum built over the graves of Erol and his elder son and to attend and receive the blessing of the younger son, the present master of the Adyaman branch.27
While the aforementioned groupings generally remained within the fold of the Naqshbandi tradition, the Nurcu movement and its offshoots transcended it. The Nurcu is the most powerful faith movement in contemporary Turkey. It derives its name from the Qur’an commentary (Risale-i Nur - The Epistle of Light) of its founder, Said Nursi (d. 1960), one of the most original and innovative Islamic thinkers in the country.28 Born into a religious family from the mostly Kurdish province of Bitlis, Nursi was raised in a Sufi environment and studied with several local Khalidi masters. Though respectful of them, he rejected the brotherhood framework, claiming instead the spiritual patronage of ‘Abd al-Qadir al-Jilani. Nursi then moved to the town of Van, where he became acquainted with modern scholarship. He was convinced of the need to enlighten the masses in the new fields of learning, but
Plate 9.4 The congregational mosque, Adyaman
also to demonstrate the truths of religion in the face of modernity. At that stage he was given the sobriquet of Bediuzzaman (the wonder of the time).
In 1907 Said Nursi went to Istanbul to seek the support of Sultan Abdulhamid II for a Kurdish university combining rational and Islamic studies, but to no avail. He espoused the ideas of constitutionalism and freedom, although he was opposed to the positivist inclinations of the Young Turks. His articles against them in the wake of the 1908 revolution, published in the Naqshbandi-led paper Volkan, led to his first arrest. Following two years in Russian captivity during World War I, Nursi returned in 1918 to Istanbul and was invited by the Khalidi seyhulislam Musa Kazim to join a committee set up to suggest ways for religious reform. At that time Sirhindi’s Maktubat helped him overcome a spiritual crisis.
Initially supporting Ataturk, Nursi was soon disappointed by the authoritarian style and secular policies of the Turkish nationalist leader, and in 1923 he left for Van. He abandoned politics and began writing his Qur’an exegesis which, in Yavuz’s apt expression, was aimed at returning God to the public sphere. His work gained him many admirers as well as the constant harassment of the authorities. Nursi was repeatedly arrested and tried on spurious accusations, from involvement in the Shaykh Said revolt, through conspiring to establish an illegal Sufi organization, to declaring himself the Mahdi. Most of his later life was spent in prison or exile. On his death in 1960 his body was exhumed and re-interred in an unknown place.
The unfinished project of the Risale-i nur consists of 130 sections, which expand from commentaries on Qur’an verses to logical and metaphysical discussions. Nursi regarded The Epistle as emanating directly from the Qur’an, and its method as following the early Muslim generations. In a modernist vein, it also affirms the prediction by the Qur’an of modern technological innovations and asserts that its interpretation depends on circumstances of time and place. By these means Nursi sought to meet the challenge of Western rationalism and protect the Qur’anic message against modern materialism and positivism.29
Nursi’s Risale was designed to substitute the Sufi tariqa mode of religiosity, which he believed had become obsolete in the critical condition of the modern age. In a letter to his followers during one of his prison terms he explains the relations between them:
Someone who has a shaykh before entering the Risale-i Nur circle may keep his shaykh or guide after entering it. But one who does not have a shaykh beforehand, may only seek a guide within the circle. Moreover, the knowledge of reality taught within the circle of the Risale-i Nur, which gives the effulgence of the legacy of Prophethood, “the greater sainthood,” leaves no need for the Sufi orders outside that circle. Unless of course they be self-indulgent people who misunderstand the way of Sufism, are addicted to pleasant dreams and imaginings, lights and spiritual pleasures, desire worldly, fanciful pleasures, which are different to the virtues of the Hereafter, and want a rank where people have recourse to them.30
Still, Nursi fully acknowledged the Sufi-like inspiration of his work, particularly under the spiritual influence of Jilani and Sirhindi. He also regarded himself as heir to Khalid, and in 1940 he was proud to receive and wear the frock bestowed by Khalid to one of his deputies.31 Through Sirhindi and Khalid, Nursi related himself to the Naqshbandi tradition of religious renewal, to which he added the task of employing new methods of explanation and new means of persuasion. He insisted, however, that it was Risale-i nur rather than he himself who fulfilled this task.32 Realizing the importance of print culture and the media for modern society, Nursi applied these means to transform his “brotherhood” into a mass religious movement.33
The Nurcu movement began to form in the 1920s, as faithful disciples circulated manuscripts of the Risale in secret. The message spread at breakneck speed, gaining new momentum after the liberalization of 1950. Reading circles known as darsanes were organized to discuss Nursi’s ideas and prepare followers to take part in public debates on religion and science. As Nursi designated no successor, after his death the movement was pluralized along ethnic, class and regional lines, though keeping a sense of collective identity and moral orientation. It has no rites of initiation or an overall
organizational structure. Nurcu branches compete over the interpretation of the text and in their contribution to the message. Having no authoritative interpretation, Nursi himself is depicted as friend (dost) rather than as the master; each member is invited to be a religious authority to himself.
Since the 1960s the Nurcu leaders have collaborated with the state in its struggle against both Communism and radical Islam. They have absorbed the modern discourses of democracy, human rights and market economy, and are at the forefront of efforts at interfaith dialogue. Today the loose network of Nurcu centers numbers more than five thousand, with around six million members. Such centers have also been built in the Muslim republics of Central Asia, among Turkish worker communities in Western Europe, and in the Balkans.34
The most outstanding of the Nurcu circles is the movement of Fethullah Gulen. Popularly known as Hocaeffendi, Gulen (b. 1938) follows Nursi in his writings in combining religion and science, tradition and modernity. A native of Erzurum, the most influential personality in his early education was a local Naqshbandi master. Gulen then moved to Izmir, where he worked as a teacher and preached in public places, developing his unique abilities as a religious-moral storyteller. The Fethullah Gulen distinguished itself from the overall Nurcu movement in backing the military coup of 1980. It incorporated an intricate network of businesses, which helped it build its ramified educational enterprise, with several universities and colleges, and a vast communication empire. Gulen advances state-centric Turkish nationalism, the free market, and educational work based on the Sufi-like ideals of discipline, asceticism, and sacrifice. His new brand of Turkish Islam includes Turks of the Balkans and Central Asia, while being critical of the Arabs and Iran, who are blamed for creating a negative image of Islam. He is also opposed to political Islam as represented by the Welfare and its successor Virtue party, and eventually supported the deposition of Prime Minister Erbakan by the army in 1997.35
Another Turkish missionary organization that descended from the Naqshbandi brotherhood but no longer considers itself as part of its tradition is the Sulaymanci. This organization was founded by the Mujaddidi master Sulayman Hilmi Tunahan of Silistra (d. 1959), a deputy of Salahud- din Sirajuddin of Bukhara (d. 1927), who himself had received the path from one of Ahmad Sirhindi’s descendants in Medina. Tunahan completed his religious studies in Istanbul and remained there as a preacher. His students came mostly from a rural background and were sent back to propagate the religion in their villages. In the face of the Kemalist persecution Tunahan decided to discontinue his branch, but held on to some Naqshbandi tenets: a silent dhikr, solitude in the crowd, awareness in breathing, and watching the steps. His son-in-law and heir, Kemal Kacar (d. 2000), proceeded after him to consolidate the preachers’ work and created a worldwide administration. He was particularly successful among the Turkish emigres in Germany,
where the numerous local prayer circles were united in 1973 under The Islamic Cultural Center in Koln. However, their attempt to get official recognition as a religious community arose much opposition on the part of the secular Turks of Germany, who set out to incriminate the organization and brought about its resignation from the public sphere.36
Today, the Sulaymanci is led from Istanbul by Tunahan’s grandson, Ahmad Arif Denizolgun. His work focuses on building boarding schools to “rescue the souls of Turkish children.” The organization has 350 centers all over Europe, the majority of them in Germany with 20,000 registered members. These are regarded as “civil servants in the service of Muhammad.” The Sulaymanci has developed a dual organization - spiritual and economic, and its followers constitute lay communities of brothers (ikhwan) with equal status and a common cause of spreading the message of Islam. In these communities the Islamic precept of imitating the prophet is realized in personal conduct rather than in subsistence in God, as the Sufi pursuit of spirituality gave way to the more worldly concern of renewing the religious society.37
State and opposition in Syria
Following the rise of the Ba'th to power in Syria in 1963, Naqshbandi masters distinguished themselves both at the head of the religious establishment of the country and in the Islamist opposition. As early as 1964 a Khalidi master, Ahmad Kuftaru (d. 2004), was nominated by the new rulers as Syria’s Grand Mufti, a position that he was to hold until his death.38 Of Kurdish extraction, Kuftaru was the son and successor of ‘Isa al-Kurdi’s latest deputy and imam of the Abu al-Nur mosque in north Damascus.39 Concluding that only alliance with the authoritarian state could safeguard the Islamic faith, Kuftaru showed servile loyalty to the Ba‘th despite the sectarian-heterodox provenance of its leaders. As a reward his branch, the Kuftariyya, was given a free hand and became the most powerful brotherhood in Syria.40
During Hafiz al-Asad’s long presidency Kuftaru further extended his activities through the Abu al-Nur Islamic Foundation. He established a network of schools throughout Syria and exerted political influence. He also forged connections with Muslims of other countries; among his initiates was Warith Deen Muhammad, the Afro-American leader of the American Muslim Mission. The Kuftariyya has a female wing led by a daughter of the master, who cultivates her own following among educated Syrian women.41 In accordance with the late master’s will, the leadership of the brotherhood after his death was passed down to his son, Salah al-Din al-Kuftaru, to be assisted by a consultative council.42
Faithful to the reformist tradition of the Naqshbandiyya, Kuftaru sought to adapt its path to the modern situation by propagating a learned and
discreet form of Sufism based on the Qur’an and the Prophet’s example. In the face of the current fierce Salafi critique of Sufism, he eventually proved ready to adopt much of the discourse of his rivals and, under the apparent influence of Nadwi, even to do away with the Sufi terminology in favor of a strictly Qur’anic vocabulary.43 On the other hand, in propagating Islam among Westerners Kuftaru adopted an intentional ambiguity, as indicated in the title of his official website – Abrahamic religions.44 While subscribing to the orthodox position that Islam is the final and most perfect religion, Kuftaru also maintained that the three monotheistic religions stem from a common source and even that all denominations are different traditions of the one universal religion. On this basis he could engage in interfaith dialogue, take part in various conferences around the world and host delegations, especially of Christian clergymen, in his mosque.45
A similar duality characterized Kuftaru’s attitude toward the fundamentalist movement, as he clarified in one of his interviews:
My relations with the generality of the Islamists are vast on both the local and international levels. They are maintained by cooperation, dialogue, mutual understanding and brotherhood . . . In the course of my long experience I found that the Islamists generally follow one of two directions: There is a minority of Islamists that work within a fanatical partisan framework which rejects all others. From them, groups split off that adopt violence and radical positions because these are the values on which they were raised. But there is a
Plate 9.5 Ahmad Kuftaru meets Pope John II
multitude of Islamists who work within the framework of the da‘wa (calling) to God in wisdom and good advice. They adopt positive means and keep away from disputes and doing wrong to others. They follow the principle: let us cooperate in what we agree . . . and remain sincere in what we disagree. They strive to promote the intellectual situation among the Muslims, relying of the science of shari‘a and its intentions, and fulfill the duties of education, purification and jihad al-da‘wa.46
The cultivation of the Kuftariyya by the Ba‘th regime seems to have been primarily designed to weaken the hold of the militant Islamic opposition of northern Syria. This was attached to another branch of the Khalidiyya, which returned to Abu al-Nasr Khalaf of Homs (d. 1949). Khalaf, not unlike Jama‘at ‘Ali in India, took to extensive traveling in the towns and villages of the north in an effort to attract new disciples. His success was remarkable, turning the Naqshbandiyya into the most popular brotherhood in the country. Some of Khalaf’s learned spiritual descendents who completed their studies in Egypt in the 1930s and 1940s came under the influence of Hasan al-Banna, and on their return were instrumental in founding local branches of the Muslim Brothers Society. Most notable among these were ‘Abd al-Fattah Abu-Ghudda of Aleppo (d. 1997) and Muhammad al-Hamid of Hama (d. 1969).47 Under the Ba‘th regime, Abu-Ghudda emerged as the leader of the Brothers’ militant northern faction, while Hamid’s follower, Sa‘id Hawwa (d. 1989), distinguished himself as the movement’s principal ideologue.48
Sufism permeates the entire oeuvre of Hawwa, who conceived of a grassroots organization, a popular supra-brotherhood as it were, that would unite all Islamic forces in the country and lead them in the struggle for religious revival in general, and against the secular tendencies of the Ba‘th in particu- lar.49 His scheme which, alluding to Sirhindi’s epithet as Imam Rabbani, he called the revival of the Rabbaniyya, consisted of four elements:
- Recollection of God. 2. Religious knowledge. 3. A supportive environment. 4. Propagation and educational activity. Recollection is essential for reaching the spiritual stations of certainty and inheritance of the Prophetic state. Knowledge is a condition of the rab- baniyya . . . and it must be noted that the studies of the rabbaniyyun are many. A supportive environment so that the rabbani student will grow in knowledge, deed, and spirituality. Sitting with the people of knowledge and people of virtue enhances the rabbani student’s desire to reach [the spiritual goal] . . . Propagation and educational activity is also a condition. The rabbani must transcend his self toward reform by teaching, preaching, and enjoining good and forbidding evil.50
President Asad’s brutal suppression of the Islamic uprising of Hama in 1982 shattered any such scheme, leaving Kufatru’s accommodating collaboration the only alternative open before the Syrian Naqshbandis.
Revival in Uzbekistan
Since the demise of the Soviet Union in 1991 the Naqshbandiyya has resurfaced as the most popular brotherhood in Central Asia in general, Uzbekistan in particular. Its revival was affected through local branches that survived Soviet rule and foreign branches that gained a local following. Among the former is the Husayniyya branch, an orthodox and learned lineage of the Khafi type. Its leading masters are Ibrahimjan of Kokand, an erudite scholar and charismatic master with thousands of followers in east Uzbekistan, and his deputy Qurban ‘Ali, who is based in Tashkent and works to spread the brotherhood in Kazakhstan and Russia. More masters of this offshoot are located in Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. Other active offshoots are the Jahri group in Andijan and various popular masters, who administer the tomb shrines of their ancestor saints, including that of Baha’uddin Naqshband in Bukhara. Foreign masters from Turkey and Pakistan who visited Central Asia after independence also acquired local followers, while Uzbek students in Turkey brought home the path of Resid Erol of Adyaman.
State policies were no less a factor in the revival of the Central Asian Naqshbandiyya. In Tajikistan Sufi masters were allowed to join the party of political Islam and some of them were appointed to official positions. The stand of the Uzbek government was more mixed. On the one hand, it enlisted Sufism in the construction of national identity. The Naqshbandi tradition was presented as cherishing precious values such as work and discipline, and was supported as a counterweight to militant Islam. Baha’ud- din’s mausoleum was accordingly rehabilitated and the 675th anniversary of the saint was celebrated in 1993 in the presence of the President of the Republic. Mukhtar Abdullaev, the chief mufti and head of the Spiritual Board of Uzbekistan in 1993-1997, was affiliated with the Naqshbandiyya, although, disturbingly reminiscent of the Soviet era, his servility apparently secured his promotion and he had neither Sufi knowledge nor disciples. On the other hand, the authorities have remained inimical to the tariqa form of organization, and are wary of Naqshbandi political activism. The antireligious campaign launched by the government after 1998 was conceived as a threat to all believing Muslims and resulted in a major uprising in the Naqshbandi-dominated Ferghana.51
Resistance in Afghanistan
The Naqshbandiyya was the most active of the Sufi brotherhoods in the resistance to the Communist coup and subsequent Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1978–1979. Mobilization to jihad was carried largely within the traditional framework of Sufi networks among the Afghan tribes, and relied on the habitual obedience of disciples to their masters. Especially in the north of the country, Naqshbandi lodges became the hubs of resistance uniting all local Islamic forces, though lack of efficient organization and military coordination made it easy for the government to crush them. Masters who were not killed or arrested fled the country, their lodges destroyed, and many of their disciples slain.52
A representative of the traditional Naqshbandi camp is Akundzada Sayfurahman (b. 1928), scion of a Pashtun family of ulama who was introduced into the Mujaddidiyya and made deputy in Kunduz. He also claimed to have Uwaysi permission to initiate disciples in the Qadiriyya and Chishtiyya. “The pir of Kunduz” set about organizing and expanding his brotherhood, attracting followers from all over Afghanistan and even neighboring Tajikistan. In 1978 he was forced to flee to Pakistan and joined the Islamic Revolutionary Movement, the leading organization of the early phase in the anti-Soviet jihad, which was headed by one of his deputies. This movement represented the ulama wing of the resistance which called for a return to the shari‘a rather than demanding an Islamic state. Sayfurahman mobilized fighters among his followers in north Afghanistan, many of whom perished in battle. With the demise of the Revolutionary Movement in 1982, he founded a lodge in the Northwest Frontier Province which, like Zindapir’s lodge which wasn’t far away, became a center of a regional cult, and engaged in polemics against detractors of Sufism. Initially supportive of the mostly Pashtun Taliban, Sayfurahman distanced himself from them once he realized their radical thrust.53
Of more lasting impact on the Afghan resistance was the National Liberation Front of Sibghatullah Mujaddidi (b. 1925), a survivor of the decimated Hazrat Shor Bazar family.54 Sibghatullah attended a secular highschool in Kabul, but opted for Islamic law. While completing his studies at al-Azhar, he became involved in the activities of the Egyptian Muslim Brothers and was arrested for a time. Upon his return to Afghanistan Sib- ghatullah became known as an ardent anti-Communist, and in 1959 was jailed for an alleged conspiracy to assassinate Soviet President Khrushchev while on a state visit. At that stage he also became critical of the tariqa organization of his family, maintaining that Hazrat Muhammad ‘Umar had been the last actual master in the lineage.
From 1973 to 1978 Sibghatullah lived in exile, first in Saudi Arabia and then as head of the Islamic community in Denmark. Following the Communist takeover, he returned and established the headquarters of his front in
Peshawar, where he capitalized on the saintly authority of his family among the ulama and the tribes but also developed a more modern hierarchical structure. Constituting part of the moderate wing of the Afghan resistance, Sibghatullah was appointed head of the interim government in 1989 and first President after the fall of the Communist regime in 1992. He was eclipsed by the Taliban, but re-emerged after the demise of their regime, and today fills various mediating roles under the presidency of Hamid Karazai, who himself had apparently belonged to the National Liberation Front.55
Adaptation in Indonesia
The Khalidi and Mujaddidi masters spread over the Indonesian archipelago came during the twentieth century under increasing attack. This derived above all from the Islamic modernist trend, which became extremely popular in Indonesia, more than in any other Muslim country. The Naqshbandiyya was further weakened by the Saudi conquest of the Hijaz in 1925 and the subsequent ban on Sufi activity in the Haramayn, which deprived it of its principal source of legitimization and recruitment. Concomitantly the popular base of the brotherhood was undermined by the emergence of mass nationalist organizations, while the official nationalist philosophy of five principles (pancasila) adopted by the independent state after 1949 failed to mention Islam altogether. In consequence, many Naqshbandi masters were driven onto the defensive, and into alliance with traditional religious forces which they had hitherto opposed. This was particularly the case in Java, where they joined the conservative organization of Nadwat al-Ulama in response to attacks by reformist societies such as the Muhammadiyya. On the other hand, we find a son of Jalaludin of Changking, the foremost Naqshbandi master of West Sumatra, editing the first modernist Malay magazine and later as a leader of the Malay fundamentalist Salafiyya.
These adverse circumstances notwithstanding, the Naqshbandiyya has remained a viable force in Indonesian Islam, spreading to new regions of the country and forming various religious and political associations. Its foremost master after independence was Jalaluldin of Bukittinggi (d. 1977), who took the path in Mecca from Sulayman al-Zuhdi’s son. Around 1945 Jalaluldin founded the Political Party of Tariqat Islam, which was joined by many Naqshbandi masters. The party enjoyed the patronage of Indonesia’s first president, Sukarno (1945–1967), as well as of Vice-President Muhammad Hatta, whose grandfather was a Naqshbandi master. Jalaluldin had numerous deputies who spread the path in Java and Sumatra, to South Sulawesi and Kalimantan, and to Malaysia. In addition he authored more than 100 pamphlets explaining and defending the path. Still, rival Naqshbandi masters condemned him for his unconventional Qur’an exegesis, his assumption of the title of Professor, and the ease with which he bestowed the path.56
Other masters helped spread the brotherhood to regions in which hitherto
it had been virtually absent. Muhsin ‘Ali al-Hinduan (d. 1980), an Arab from Madura, propagated the Mazhari brotherhood among the local communities of the island and other ethnic minorities. Muda Wali introduced the Khalidi path into Acheh, on the northern tip of Sumatra, in the 1940s, and established there his own school. He strongly disapproved of the Achenese revolt of the 1950s, and the central government rewarded him by appointing his followers to official and educational positions, which allowed them to spread the brotherhood still farther. More recently, within the general Islamic revival of the 1980s and 1990s, Prof. Dr. Kadirun Yahya (d. 2002) distinguished himself by attracting to the Naqshbandiyya upper and middle class elements in Jakarta and other urban centers. A professor of physics and mathematics in the University of Medan, Yahya’s special blend of metaphysics and high mystical accomplishment with scientific knowledge proved particularly appealing to university graduates and students.57
The global setting
The information revolution of the late twentieth century, generally subsumed under the title of globalization, has both posed dangers and offered new opportunities for the Sufi movement in general, and the Naqshbandiyya in particular. It led to marginalization and at times disappearance of local branches, while on the other hand allowing some masters to create networks and spread their message in new lands, including Western Europe and the United States. This extension was shared by many of the organizations discussed in this chapter, such as the Indian Nadwat al-Ulama, which helped found the Oxford Center for Islamic Studies,58 the Iskenderpasa group from Turkey with its special ties in Australia, or the Kuftariyya brotherhood of Syria, which is involved in interfaith dialogue and runs an affiliate college in Baltimore, Maryland.59 Other Naqshbandi groupings have substituted their local bases for transnational activity, either within the framework of the brotherhood or through a radical transformation of the path and its integration into the New Age movement.
The most visible among the contemporary Naqshbandi branches, and arguably Sufi brotherhoods at large, on the global scene is the Haqqaniyya branch. Its founder and head is Nazim ‘Adil al-Haqqani (b. 1922),60 a Turkish Cypriot who travels constantly among his followers around the world. Haqqani was attracted to the Khalidiyya in the 1940s while studying chemistry in Istanbul. Undertaking a journey through Syria, he encountered a number of masters until in Damascus he joined ‘Abdallah Fa’iz al- Daghestani (1891-1973), whose lineage goes back to Imam Shamil’s masters in the north Caucasus. In the circle of this master Haqqani met his Tatar wife Anna, a Naqshbandi mistress in her own right who until her recent death led the women’s wing of the brotherhood. Following Daghestani’s death Haqqani established a small community in Tripoli, Lebanon, then
embroiled in a civil war, and forged a lifelong connection with the notable Qabbani family. At that time the distinct features of his path came to the fore: avoidance of politics, sharp animosity toward the Muslim Brothers and Islamic fundamentalism, and a unique millenarian teaching.61
Despite initial modest success, Haqqani came to believe that he had a mission from the Prophet to spread the light of Islam throughout the world, including among Westerners. His first community in the West was founded in 1972, during his master’s lifetime, or in 1974, shortly after his death, in London. Since then Haqqani established a tradition of spending the month of Ramadan in that city, making it a focus of pilgrimage for admirers from all over the world. His community has steadily grown, attracting three distinct elements: South Asians impressed by the master’s charisma, ethnic Turks who regard him as a Sufi scholar able to interpret Islam for those living in a modern secular environment, and Western converts seeking spiritual enlightenment. Haqqani’s preaching differs in accordance with the needs of the specific group he addresses. All his followers practice the loud dhikr, beginning with rabita (binding the heart) toward him. Among the Indians the ceremony is ecstatic in nature, while among Westerners it resembles a performance in which women take active part.62 There are local groups in many other British cities, most notably Birmingham and Sheffield.63
Flexibility and openness in matters of doctrine and practice allowed Haqqani to extend his operations in the 1980s and 1990s to other European countries and North America. Branches of the brotherhood were also established in the Middle East, India, and Southeast Asia. These were integrated into a transnational network of local Sufi centers, each engaged in educational work, charity, and preaching of the message in accordance with local circumstances. The whole enterprise is supported by religious-minded businessmen and politicians as well as technical experts in various fields, and it propagates itself through a line of publishing houses and magazines. Still, as Nielsen et al. have observed in their fieldwork, “the tariqa only fully exists where Shaykh Nazim is . . . at all normal times, i.e. when Shaykh Nazim is not visiting, it is the autonomy of the local group that is most characteristic of the tariqa.”64 In USA during the 1990s Hisham al-Kabbani, Haqqani’s son-in-law and deputy in the western hemisphere, founded Naqshbandi centers in twenty-three states and opened an office in Washington DC. Adapting to the American system, he uses capitalistic marketing strategies and the media, including a strong presence on the Internet, to propagate the religion among both Muslims and non-Muslims. Here one can learn about what Haqqanis regard as Islam in general and about the Haqqani lineage in particular, as well as buy books, cassettes, rosaries and perfumes in America and worldwide.65
Nazim al-Haqqani’s teachings reflect a successful adaptation of the Naqshbandi combination of orthodoxy and activism to the era of globalization. More than three decades of work in the West has not changed the
Plate 9.6 The Haqqani homepage
basically conservative outlook that the master had developed in his early days in Syria and Lebanon. Haqqani regards the twentieth century as the century of unbelief and atheism, and Western civilization as the acme of barbarity. He rejects modern philosophy and science, and describes the universities as a tool in the hands of Jews and Christians to distract Muslims
from their faith. He is particularly opposed to humanism for placing man at the center at the expense of God, and to liberalism, which he views as the reason for the rising rates of divorce.
Politically, Haqqani wishes to see the Ottoman Caliphate restored. He denounces the Turkish Republic for its secularism and depicts Mustafa Kemal not as Ataturk (father of the Turks) but as the anti-Christ, who sold out their country to the West. Democracy for Haqqani is but a foolish idea, since power derives from God and not from the people. Still, he believes that practically one should respect the legitimate authority of his state. Finally, Haqqani shows unbridled animosity to all forms of “Wahhabism,” a term which for him denotes the enemy of Islam within and the source of all its present troubles. The anti-Sufi Wahhabis cause people to flee Islam, and sully its name in the eyes of Europeans and Americans. In one of his discourses Haqqani explains:
I was reading an article in a newspaper. The editor is saying: “I am fearing the sword of Islam.” What an innocent, square-head editor. She is saying this and she is not fearing the atom and hydrogen bombs and missiles? Ma Sha Allah! You may defend yourself against a sword but not against a rocket, that may kill hundreds and thousands of people in a second. They are showing Islam in a bad way. The wildest creature for the non-Muslim is a Muslim. Blame for Muslims that they make this fundamentalism and do everything against Shariat-u-llah and make Islam to be blamed. You are coming here from European countries. You know what is happening there. People are not looking to you with good eyes, but they think that you are like wolves, wild animals, that may kill and eat them. That image is coming to the whole Muslim world through no mind Muslims, that have studied and have been prepared in Europe, in Western countries. Then they come to the East and do what Christians are doing, and make Islam in such a hated vision. Therefore now the Islamic world is also going to be cleaned. Allah Almighty is asking to clean Muslim countries from those bad ones who act against Islam. They must be killed and taken away. And S. Mehdi a.s. is only coming for that.66
In this spirit, Kabbani did not hesitate to declare in 1999 before the US State Department and on other occasions that most Muslim organizations in America were extremist and called for violence. These comments evoked an uproar among the American Muslim leadership. Haqqani activities were boycotted while some went so far as to claim that Kabbani is a Zionist agent.67
As against such strict orthodox stances, on the practical level Haqqani employs a strategy of accommodation. This is demonstrated not only in the
use of modern communication technology, but also in his openness to all people, Muslims as well as non-Muslims, in his flexible attitude to the observance of the religious Law, and in his tolerance of women in the brotherhood. On some issues Haqqani comes closer to contemporary Western critiques of modernity, such as New Age spirituality and the proenvironment Greens. His pluralistic attitude was exemplified in his visit in 1999 to Glastonbury, the center of alternative spirituality in Britain. Here he called people to aim for eternity without regard to their religion, and associated himself with the local Christian tradition that Jesus had visited the place. Subsequently a Haqqani community was established in the town, engaging itself in holding dhikr meetings, which include musical performances and even the Mevlevi whirling dance, and “Sufi meditation” workshops.68
Accommodation is no less manifest in Haqqani’s unique millenarian teachings. He believes that the coming of the Mahdi is imminent and gives his followers the impression that he is in constant spiritual connection with him. His vision combines traditional Muslim eschatological ideas with Christian-universal symbols and is updated in accordance with international developments – the Gulf War, the collapse of Communism, or the year 2000. At that time England will peacefully convert to Islam, hidden saints will operate in Germany and China, America will impose a global peace before a third world war will erupt around Turkey, to be concluded by a reign of love and peace precipitating the Day of Judgment.69
Other Naqshbandi groupings that have done well on the global level come from the non-orthodox margins of the tradition. Such is the Golden Sufi Center based in California. The center was founded by Irina Tweedie (d. 1999), who had been attracted to the Hindi Naqshbandi-Mujaddidi brotherhood while on a trip to India in 1959. Her experiences along the path were recorded in a spiritual diary, which was later published. After the death of her master in 1966 Tweedie returned to England and began to guide disciples in Europe and the USA.70 Her deputy and present head of the center, Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee (b. 1953), has remained loyal to the Hindi Naqsh- bandi tradition, combining it with a Jungian-type psychological dream work. He is a distinguished participant in the Sufi conference, which has convened annually since 2001, “to create space where people could experience the different forms of Sufism.”71
Even remoter from the Naqshbandi tradition is the Subud movement, which is defined by its leaders as “a symbol of the possibility for mankind to follow the right way of living.” This is one of the hundreds of syncretistic mystical movements that have flourished in post-colonial Indonesia. Its founder, the Javan Muhammad Subuh Sumohadiwidjojo (d. 1987), popularly called Bapak (father), developed a special spiritual exercise of free-style meditation that is intended to lead to purification of body and soul and to awareness of God. Although Bapak tended to downplay spiritual influences
on his shaping, much of his terminology and methods were derived from a Naqshbandi master named Abdurachman, his most important spiritual guide. Subud began to spread slowly in Java in the 1930s and, through the agency of a British disciple, was carried in the mid-1950s to England. Today, centers of the movement operate in more than eighty countries in the East and West.72
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NOTES
- THE CORE AND CONTOURS OF A SUFI BROTHERHOOD
The most comprehensive overview of the Naqshbandiyya to date is Hamid Algar, “A Brief History of the Naqshbandi Order,” in Naqshbandis, 3–44.
Muhammad Amin ibn ‘Abidin, Radd al-muhtar ‘ala al-durr al-mukhtar sharh tanwir al-absar fi fiqh madhhab al-imam al-a‘zam Abi Hanifa al-Nu‘man (8 vols., 1966–1969), 3: 295.
Qur’an 33: 41–42. All Qur’an citations follow the translation of A.J. Arberry, The Koran Interpreted (New York and London, 1955).
Annemarie Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam (Chapel Hill, 1975), 98–148. Marshall G. S. Hodgson, The Venture of Islam: Conscience and History in a World Civilization (3 vols., Chicago and London, 1974), 2: 201–254.
Fazlur Rahman, Islam (2nd ed., Chicago, 1979), 137–140.
Michel Chodkiewicz, An Ocean without Shore: Ibn ‘Arabi, The Book, and the Law (Albany NY, 1993); idem, Seal of the Saints: Prophethood and Sainthood in the Doctrine of Ibn ‘Arabi (Cambridge, 1993).
Among his many translations, see especially William C. Chittick, The Sufi Path of Love: Spiritual Teachings of Rumi (Albany, 1983).
Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions, 101ff.
Muhammad Amin al-Kurdi, Tanwir al-qulub fi mu‘amalat ‘ulum al-ghuyub (Beirut, 1994), 451–452.
See the classical work of J. Spencer Trimingham, The Sufi Orders in Islam (London, 1971). The book was reissued with a new foreword by John O. Voll in 1998.
For a recent account of the major founders of Sufi brotherhoods see Alexander Knysh, Islamic Mysticism: A Short History (Leiden, 2000), 179–244.
Carl W. Ernst, Sufism: An Essential Introduction to the Philosophy and Practice of the Mystical Tradition of Islam (Boston, 1997), 120–146.
A.J. Arberry, Sufism: An Account of the Mystics of Islam (London, 1950), 119.
Trimingham, The Sufi Orders, 71–72.
‘Abd al-Rahman al-Kawakibi, Umm al-Qura (Cairo, 1899), 75–78.
A collection devoted to this subject is, Frederick de Jong and Bernd Radtke (eds.), Islamic Mysticism Contested: Thirteen Centuries of Controversies and Polemics (Leiden, 1999). See especially, Th. Emil Homerlin, “Sufis and their detractors in Mamluk Egypt. A Survey of the Protagonists and Institutional Settings,” 225– 247; and Esther Peskes, “The Wahhabiyya and Sufism in the Eighteenth Century,” 145–161.
Elizabeth Sirriyeh, Sufis and Anti-Sufis: The Defence, Rethinking and Rejection of Sufism in the Modern World (Richmond, Surrey, 1999).
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See Nehemia Levtzion and John O. Voll (eds.), Eighteenth Century Renewal and Reform Movements in Islam (Syracuse, 1987).
See especially, R.S. O’Fahey and Bernd Radtke, “Neo-Sufism Reconsidered,” Der Islam 70 (1993), 52-87.
Itzchak Weismann, “Sufi Fundamentalism in India and the Middle East,” in Martin van Bruinessen and Julia Howell (eds.), Sufism and the ‘Modern’ in Islam. (London and New York, 2007), 115-128.
For a critique of this use, see Julian Baldick, Mystical Islam: An Introduction to Sufism (London, 1989), 59.
Qur’an 49: 10.
Marilyn Robinson Waldman, “Tradition as a Modality of Change: Islamic Examples,” History of Religions 25 (1986), 326.
Of the vast scholarly literature on “tradition” some of the more important landmarks are S.N. Eisenstadt, Tradition, Change and Modernity (New York, 1973); Edward Shils, Tradition (Chicago, 1981); Eric Hobsbawm and Terrence Ranger, The Invention of Tradition (Cambridge, 1983).
Timothy Mitchell, Colonising Egypt (Cambridge and New York, 1988), 136.
For a preliminary discussion of the question of brotherhood identity, see Hamid Algar, “Political Aspects of Naqshbandi History”, in Naqshbandis, 123-124.
Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions, 27.
Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origins and Spread of Nationalism (rev. ed., London, 1991), 6.
Hobsbawn and Ranger, The Invention of Tradition, 1.
- LOCAL BEGINNINGS IN THE OASES OF INNER ASIA
(THIRTEENTH TO SIXTEENTH CENTURIES)
H. Algar, “Nakshband, Khwaja Baha’ al-Din,” EI2 ; idem, “Baha’-al-Din Naqshband,” EIr 3: 433-435; Marijan Mole, “Autour du Dare Mansour: l’apprentissage mystique de Baha’ al-Din Naqsband,” Revue des Etudes Islamiques 27 (1959), 35-66.
Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions, 28-29.
The eleven principles are enumerated in Chart 2.4.
Rashahat, 50.
Jurgen Paul, Doctrine and Organization: The Khwajagan/Naqshbandiya in the First Generation after Baha’uddin (Halle and Berlin, 1998), 65-66.
Jurgen Paul, “Muhammad Parsa: Sendschriben uber das Gottesgedenken mit Vernehmlicher Stimme” in Anke von Kugelgen, Asirbek Muminov, and Michael Kemper (eds.), Muslim Culture in Russia and Central Asia from the 18th to the Early 20th Centuries (vol. 3, Berlin, 2000), 5-9.
Lola Dodkhudoeva, “La bibliotheque de Khwaja Mohammad Parsa,” CAC 5-6 (1998), 125-146; Ashikber Muminov and Shavasil Ziyadov, “L’horizon intellectual d’un erudit du XV siecle: nouvelles decouvertes sur la biblioteque de Muhammad Parsa,” CAC 7 (1999), 77-98.
Florian Schwarz, “Unser Weg schliesst tausend Wege ein”: Derwische und Gesellschaft im islamischen Mittelasien im 16. Jahrhundert (Berlin, 2000), 124-129.
Rashahat, 26.
Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions, 104-105.
Hamid Algar, “Brief History,” 7-9; K.A. Nizami, “‘Abd al-Kaleq Gojdovani,” EI2.
See Trimingham, The Sufi Orders, 58-60.
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Devin DeWeese, The Masha ikh-i Turk and the Khojagan: Rethinking the Links between the Yasavi and Naqshbandi Sufi Traditions,” JIS 7 (1996), 180-198.
Paul, Doctrine and Organization, 53-69.
Devin DeWeese, “Khojagani Origins and the Critique of Sufism: The Rhetoric of Communal Uniqueness in the Manaqib of Khoja ‘Ali ‘Azizan Ramitani,” in de Jong and Radtke, Sufism Contested, 492-519.
Algar, “Brief History,” 2-7, apparently following the Rashahat, practically ignores the first two ‘Alid chains of transmission and focuses on the third, that which returns to Abu Bakr.
Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions, 53.
Knysh, Islamic Mysticism, 10-13.
Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions, 28.
Johan G.J. ter Haar, “The Importance of the Spiritual Guide in the Naqshbandi Order,” in Leonard Lewisohn (ed.), The Legacy of Medieval Persian Sufism (London and New York, 1992), 311-318; Stephane Ruspoli, “Reflexions sur la voie spirituelle des Naqshbandi,” in Naqshbandis, 95-100.
On this trend see Knysh, Islamic Mysticism, 94-99.
Hamid Algar, “Elements de provenance malamati dans la tradition primitive Naqshbandi,” in Nathalie Claire, Alexandre Popovic and Thierry Zarcone (eds.), Melamis-Bayramis: edutes sur trois mouvements mystiques musulmans (Istanbul, 1998), 27-36.
Mole, “Dare Mansour,” 57-58.
Trimingham, The Sufi Orders, 32-33, 52.
Wilfred Madelung, “Yusuf al-Hamadani and the Naqsbandiyya,” Quaderni di Studi Arabi 5-6 (1987-8), 499-509.
Jurgen Paul, “Maslaq al-‘arifin. Ein Dokument zur fruhen Geschichte der Hwagagan-Naqsbandiya,” in Walter Beltz and Sebastian Gunter (eds.), Hallesche Beitrage zur Orientwissenschaft 25 (1998), 179-181.
Paul, “Muhammad Parsa,” 17-41
Paul, Doctrine and Organization, 18-30; Hamid Algar, “Silent and Vocal Dhikr in the Naqshbandi Order,” Akten des VII Kongresses fur Arabistik und Islamwissenschaft (Gottingen, 1974), 39-43.
Jurgen Paul, “Influences indiennes sur la Naqshbandiyya d’Asie Centrale?” CAC 1-2 (1996), 203-217, refers only to the first of these two principles.
Muhammad ibn ‘Abdallah al-Khani, al-Bahja al-saniyya fi adab al-tariqa al-‘aliyya al-Khalidiyya (Cairo, 1303/1885), 53-57.
On traveling in the home see, Thierry Zarcone, “Le ‘voyage dans la patrie’ (safar dar watan) chez les soufis de l’ordre naqsbandi,” in Muhammad Ali Amir-Moezzi (ed.), Le voyage initiatique en terre d’islam (Louvain-Paris, 1996), 301-315.
Rashahat, 29. The verse is taken from Qur’an 24: 37.
Ruspoli, “Reflexions,” 101-107.
Rashahat, 32.
Michel Chodkiewicz, “Quelques aspects des techniques spirituelles dans la tariqa Naqshbandiyya,” in Naqshbandis, 69-82.
Paul, Doctrine and Organization, 35-43.
Fritz Meier, Zwei Abhandlungen uber die Naqshbandiyya (Istanbul, 1994), 188-197.
Paul, Doctrine and Organization, 45-52.
Hamid Algar, “Reflections of Ibn ‘Arabi in Early Naqshbandi Tradition,” Journal of the Muhyiddin Ibn ‘Arabi Society 10 (1991), 45-57.
Hamid Algar, “Bokari, ‘Ala’-Din Mohammad,” EIr 3: 330.
‘Abd al-Rahman al-Jami, Nafahat al-uns min muhadarat al-quds (2 vols., Beirut, 2003), 2: 548.
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Ibid., 2: 549.
Jurgen Paul, Die Politische und Soziale Bedeutung der Naqsbandiyya in Mittelasien im 15. Jahrhundert (Berlin and New York, 1991), 23-25.
Hamid Algar, “Sa‘d al-Din Kashghari,” EI2.
Jami, Nafahat al-uns, 2: 556-557.
Cl. Huart-[H. Masse], “Djami, Mawlana Nur al-Din ‘Abd al-Rahman,” EI2.
- CONSOLIDATION AND EXPANSION
The most detailed biography is still that by Jo-Ann Gross, “Khoja Ahrar: A Study of the Perception of Religious Power and Prestige in the Late Timurid Period” (Ph.D. Dissertation, New York University, 1982). For an updated summary, see Jo-Ann Gross and Asom Urunbaev, The Letters of Khwaja ‘Ubayd Allah Ahrar and His Associates (Leiden, 2002), 11-22.
Jurgen Paul, “Forming a Faction: The Himayat System of Khwaja Ahrar,” IJMES 23 (1991), 533-548; also see, Jo-Ann Gross, “The Economic Status of a Timurid Sufi Shaykh: A Matter of Conflict or Perception?” Iranian Studies 21 (1988), 84-104.
Rashahat, 217-218.
Jo-Ann Gross, “Multiple Roles and Perceptions of a Sufi Shaykh: Symbolic Statement of Political and Religious Authority,” in Naqshbandis, 109-121.
Paul, Doctrine and Organization, 164-244; Asam Urunbaev, “Les lettres auto- graphes de Khwaja ‘Obeydallah Ahrar,” CAC 5-6 (1998), 342-346.
Jo-Ann Gross, “Authority and Miraculous Behavior: Reflections on Karamat Stories of Khwaja ‘Ubaydullah Ahrar,” in Leonard Lewisohn (ed.), The Legacy of Medieval Persian Sufism (London and New York, 1992), 159-171.
Rashahat, 227.
Ibid., 228-229.
Bakhtiyar Babajanov, “La Naqshbandiyya sous les premiers Sheybanides,” CAC 3-4 (1997), 69-90.
Ibid., 75-80; Schwarz, “Unser Weg,” 134-138.
Bakhtyar Babajanov, “Biographies of Makhdum-i A‘zam al-Kasani al-Dahbidi, Shaykh of the Sixteenth-Century Naqshbandiya,” Manuscripta Orientalia 5, 2 (1999), 3-8.
Bakhtyar Babadzanov, “Zahir al-Din Muhammad Mirza Babur et les Shaykh Naqshbandi de Transoxiane,” CAC 1-2 (1996), 221-224.
Jurgen Paul, “La propriete fonciere des cheikhs Juybari,” CAC 3-4 (1997), 183-202. Schwarz, “Unser Weg,” 176-229.
Bakhtiyour Babajanov, “Mawlana Lutfullah Chusti: An Outline of his Hagiography and Political Activity,” ZDMG 149 (1999), 245-270.
Serif Mardin, “The Naksibendi Order in Turkish History,” in Richard Tapper (ed.), Islam in Modern Turkey (London, 1991), 127-129.
Mustafa Kara, “Molla Ilahi: Un Precurseur de la Naksbenidye en Anatolie,” in Naqshbandis, 303-329. See also Algar, “Ibn ‘Arabi,” 57-58.
Dina Le Gall, A Culture of Sufism: Naqshbandis in the Ottoman World, 1450–1700 (Albany NY, 2005), 35-60.
On the Naqshbandiyya in Bursa, see ibid., 202-212.
Dina Le Gall, “Missionaries, Pilgrims and Refugees: The Early Transmission of the Naqshbandiyya to the Ottoman Lands,” in Hassan Elboudrari (ed.), Modes de transmission de la culture religieuse en Islam (Cairo, 1993), 225-240.
Algar, “Silent and Vocal Dhikr,” 44.
Le Gall, Culture of Sufism, 44-47.
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Joseph Fletcher, “The Naqshbandiyya in Northwest China,” in idem, Studies on Chinese and Islamic Inner Asia (London, 1995), 4–7.
Henri Schwarz’s claim that Makhdum-i A‘zam made a trip to East Turkistan and spent an unspecified time at the court of the ruler of Yarkand as a religious advisor is based on sources from the eighteenth century and seems spurious. See Henri G. Schwarz, “The Khwajas of Eastern Turkistan,” Central Asiatic Journal 20 (1976), 270–272.
Fletcher, “Northwest China,” 7–9.
- SHARI‘A AND RENEWAL IN THE GREAT EMPIRES
(SIXTEENTH TO EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES)
Babadzˇanov, “Mirza Babur,” 219–226.
Richard Foltz, “The Central Asian Naqshbandi Connections of the Mughal Emperors,” JIS 7 (1996), 229–232; Arthur F. Buehler, “The Naqshbandiyya in Timurid India: The Central Asian Legacy,” JIS 7 (1996), 212–215; Athar Abbas Rizvi, A History of Sufism in India (2 vols., New Delhi, 1983), 2: 178–181. There is much confusion among these sources concerning the exact identity of Ahrar’s descendents in India.
David Damrel, “Forgotten Grace: Khwaja Khawand Mahmud Naqshbandi in Central Asia and Mughal India” (Ph.D. Dissertation, Duke University, 1991). Simon Digby, Sufis and Soldiers in Awrangzeb’s Deccan: Malfuzat-i Naqshban- diyya (New Delhi, 2001), 71.
Ibid., 74–75.
Simon Digby, “The Naqshbandis in the Deccan in the Late Seventeenth and Early Eighteenth Century A.D.: Baba Palangposh and Baba Musafir and their Adherents,” in Naqshbandis, 167–207.
Interview with Shah Muhammad ‘Abd al-Rashid Vahdati in Panchakki shrine, Aurangabad, 26 January 2003. Another important lodge that was built at that time is the Khanqah Mun‘imiyya in Patna, Bihar. It was founded by the ascetic Shah Mun‘im Pak (d. 1771), who combined Ahrari lineage with that of Tajuddin ‘Uth- mani. To this day the master is busy attending to the needs of the people. Interview with Shah Shamimuddin Ahmad Nu‘mani, sajjada nashin (guardian) of the lodge and head of the Arabic department in the Oriental College of Patna, 12 February 2004.
Iqbal Sabir, “Khwaja Baqi Billah (The Founder of the Naqshbandi Silsilah in India),” in Nazir Ahmad and I. H. Siddiqui (eds.), Islamic Heritage in South Asian Subcontinent (Jaipur, 2000), 137–156.
William C. Chittick, “Khwaja Khord’s Treatise on the Gnostic,” Sufi 5 (1990), 11– 12; idem, “Khwaja Khurd’s “Light of Oneness,” in Alma Giese and J. Christoph Burgel (eds.), God is Beautiful and He Loves Beauty (New York, 1994), 131–151. Rizvi, History of Sufism, 2: 193–196.
See for example K.A. Nizami, “Naqshbandi Influence on Mughal Rulers and Politics,” Islamic Culture 39 (1965), 41–52.
One of the earliest Indian scholars of this opinion is Irfan M. Habib, “The Political Role of Shaikh Ahmad Sirhindi and Shah Waliallah,” in Proceedings of the Twenty-Third Session of the Indian History Congress, Aligarh 1960 (pt. 1, Calcutta, 1961), 209–223.
Damrel dwells upon the impact of this legacy on Sirhindi to the point of declaring that in some ways his “Naqshbandi reaction” might actually represent more of a Chishti reformation.” See David Damrel, “The ‘Naqshbandi Reaction’ Reconsidered,” in David Gilmartin and Bruce Lawrence (eds.), Beyond Turk and
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Hindu: Rethinking Religious Identities in Islamicate South Asia (Gainsville, Fl., 2000), 176-198.
A translation of the work is included in Demetrio Giordani, “Experiences mystiques d’un soufi indien du XVIIe siecle: Le Mabda’ o ma'ad de Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindi” (Ph.D Dissertation, EHESS Paris, 2004). For a partial English translation see Arthur Buehler, “Sirhindi’s Indian Mujaddidi Sufism: Selections from the Mabda’ wa-Ma‘ad,” JHS 4 (2003), 209-228.
The most detailed, though rather biased, English biography of Sirhindi is Muhammad Abdul Haq Ansari, Sufism and Shari‘ah: A Study of Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindi’s Effort to Reform Sufism (London, 1986), 11-30.
On the structure of the collection, see Johan G.J. ter Haar, “The Collected Letters of Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindi,” Manuscripts of the Middle East 3 (1988), 41-44.
Several books are dedicated to analyses of Sirhindi’s teachings. These are: Burhan Ahmad Faruqi, The Mujaddid’s Conception of Tawhid (Delhi, 1940); Yohanan Friedmann, Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindi: An Outline of his Thought and a Study of his Image in the Eyes of Posterity (Montreal and London, 1971); Johan G.J. ter Haar, Follower and Heir of the Prophet: Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindi (1564–1624) (Leiden, 1992); and Ansari, Sufism and Shari‘ah. One can also consult Rizvi, History of Sufism, 2: 196-241. My general scheme of presentation follows that of Friedmann. A useful tool for the research of Sirhindi’s letters is the index prepared by Arthur Buehler, Faharis-i tahlili-i hashtganah-i maktubat-i Ahmad Sirhindi (Lahore, 2001). See Athar Abbas Rizvi, Muslim Revivalist Movements in Sixteenth and Seventeenth Century India (Agra, 1965).
Friedmann, Ahmad Sirhindi, 13-31; ter Haar, Follower and Heir, 145-160.
Ahmad al-Faruqi al-Sirhindi, al-Maktubat, Trans. Muhammad Murad al-Qazani al-Manzilawi (3 vols., Mecca, 1898), 3: letter 87.
Friedmann, Ahmad Sirhindi, 41-48; ter Haar, Follower and Heir, 47-70. See also Arthur F. Buehler, “Shari‘at and ‘Ulama in Ahmad Sirhindi’s Collected Letters,” WI 43 (2003), 309-320.
Sirhindi, Maktubat, 1: letter 163. The letter is directed to a noble in the court.
For the characteristics of these states see Ansari, Sufism and Shariah, 31-59. Friedmann, Ahmad Sirhindi, 33-40, 49-51; ter Haar, Follower and Heir, 140-145; Ansari, Sufism and Shari‘ah, 61-99.
This is essentially the view presented by both Faruqi, The Mujaddid’s Conception, 45-139, and Ansari, Sufism and Shariah, 101-118.
The concept of wahdat al-shuhud was formulated by the thirteenth-fourteenth- century mystic ‘Ala’udawla Simnani, who was much more critical than Sirhindi of wahdat al-wujud. His ideas were already known to the first Naqshbandis in Transoxiana, particularly Muhammad Parsa.
Friedmann, Ahmad Sirhindi, 59-68; ter Haar, Follower and Heir, 117-136.
Sirhindi, Maktubat, 1: letter 90.
ter Haar, Follower and Heir, 75-115. See also Johan G.J. ter Haar, “The Naqshbandi Tradition in the Eyes of Ahmad Sirhindi,” in Naqshbandis, 83-93.
Friedmann, Ahmad Sirhindi, 69-75.
ter Haar, Follower and Heir, 42-46.
Rizvi, History of Sufism, 2: 218-222; Friedmann, Ahmad Sirhindi, 87-92.
For a list of Sirhindi’s progeny and deputies and their activities see Rizvi, Muslim Revivalist Movements, 261-286.
‘Abd al-Hayy al-Hasani, Nuzhat al-khawatir wa-bahjat al-masami‘ wa’l-nawazir (8 parts, Beirut, 1999), 5: 650.
For a preliminary survey of the spread of the brotherhood in the neighboring
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province of Sind, see Ghulam Mustafa Khan, The Naqshbandi Saints of Sind, Journal of the Research Society of Pakistan 13, 2 (1976), 19-47.
Rizvi, History of Sufism, 2: 241-245, 338-339; Yohanan Friedmann, “The Naqshbandis and Awrangzeb: A Reconsideration,” in Naqshbandis, 209-220.
For Mazhar’s biography and teachings see Warren Fusfeld, “The Shaping of Sufi Leadership in Delhi: the Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya, 1750-1920” (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Pennsylvania, 1981), 116-153; Muhammad Umar, “Mirza Mazhar Jan-i Janan: A Religious Reformer of the Eighteenth Century,” Studies in Islam 6 (1969), 118-154; Thomas Dahnhardt, Change and Continuity in Indian Sufism: A Naqshbandi-Mujaddidi Branch in the Hindu Environment (New Delhi, 2002), 14-41; and Athar Abbas Rizvi, Shah Wali-Allah and his Times (Canberra, 1980), 317-342.
Qur’an, 4: 77.
Hasani, Nuzhat al-khawatir, 6: 706.
Athar Abbas Rizvi, Shah ‘Abd al-‘Aziz: Puritanism, Sectarian Polemics and Jihad (Canberra, 1982), 542ff.
Ibid., 558-573; Dahnhardt, Change and Continuity, 41-47.
Fusfeld, “Sufi Leadership,” 154-197; Rizvi, ‘Abdal-‘Aziz, 549-558.
- INNER RIVALRIES AND COOPERATION
Le Gall, Culture of Sufism, 87-94. On Taskandi see ch. 3.
John Voll, “Hadith Scholars and Tariqas: An ‘Ulama’ Group in the Eighteenth Century Haramayn and their Impact in the Islamic World,” Journal of Asian and African Studies (1980), 264-273.
Abu Salim al-‘Ayyashi, Ithaf al-akhilla’ bi-ijazat al-masha’ikh al-ajilla’, ed. Muhammad al-Zahi (Beirut, 1999), 123-124.
Atallah Copty, “The Naqshbandiyya and its offshoot, the Naqshbandiyya- Mujaddidiyya in the Haramayn in the 11th/17th Century,” WI 43 (2003), 321-331. Among Tajuddin’s writings is Risala fi bayan suluk al-Naqshbandiyya, also known as al- Tajiyya.
Friedmann, Ahmad Sirhindi, 94-101; Copty, “Haramayn,” 331-348; Rizvi, History of Sufism, 2: 336-342.
Nicole Grandin, “A propos des asanid de la Naqshbandiyya dans les fondements de la Khatmiyya au Soudan oriental: strategies de pouvior et relation maitre/ disciple,” in Naqshbandis, 621-655.
Frederick De Jong, “The Naqshbandiyya in Egypt and Syria. Aspects of its History, and Observations Concerning its Present-Day Condition,” in Naqshbandis, 592.
Barbara Rosenov von Schlegell, “Sufism in the Ottoman Arab World: Shaykh ‘Abd al-Ghani al-Nabulusi (d. 1143/1731)” (Ph.D. dissertation, University of California - Berkeley, 1997), 136-148; Elizabeth Sirriyeh, Sufi Visionary of Ottoman Damascus, ‘Abd al-Ghani al-Nabulusi, 1641–1731 (Richmond, Surrey, 2005), 39-47.
Muhammad Khalil al-Muradi, Silk al-durar fi a‘yan al-qarn al-thani ‘ashar (4 vols., Cairo, 1883), 4: 130.
Karl K. Barbir, “All in the Family: The Muradis of Damascus,” in Heath W. Lowry and Ralph S. Hattex (eds.), Congress on the Social and Economic History of Turkey (Princeton, 1983) (Istanbul, 1990), 330-334.
Muradi, Silk al-durar, 4: 115.
Barbir, “The Muradis,” 327-355; von Schlegell, “Ottoman Arab World,” 148-161.
- Itzchak Weismann, Taste of Modernity: Sufism, Salafiyya, and Arabism in Late Ottoman Damascus (Leiden, 2001), 60.
- Muradi, Silk al-durar, 1: 108.
- Thierry Zarcone, “Histoire et croyances des derviches turkestanais et indiens a Istanbul,” Anatolia Moderna 2 (1991), 137-200, esp. 145-147, 157-158, 186-187.
- Algar, “Brief History,” 28.
- Hamid Algar, “From Kashghar to Eyup: The Lineages and Legacy of Sheikh Abdullah Nida’i,” in NWCA, 1-15; Klaus Kreiser, “Kasgari Tekyesi - Ein Istanbuler Naqsbandi-Konvent und sein Stifter,” in Naqshbandis, 331-335; Grace Martin Smith, “The Kasgari Dergah in Istanbul,” Archivum Ottomanicum 14 (1995-1996), 213-221.
- Butrus Abu-Manneh, Studies on Islam and the Ottoman Empire in the 19th Century (1826-1876) (Istanbul, 2001), 41-46.
- Hamid Algar, “Some Notes on the Naqshbandi Tariqat in Bosnia,” WI 13 (1972), 168-181; Dzemal Cehajic, “Socio-Political Aspects of the Naqshbandi Dervish Order in Bosnia and Herzegovina and Yugoslavia Generally,” in Naqshbandis, 663-668.
- For these and other deputies of Musa Dahbidi, see Bakhtiyor M. Babadzanov, “On The History of the Naqsbandiya-Mugaddidiya in the Central Ma’wara’an- nahr in the Late 18th and Early 19th Centuries,” in Michael Kemper, Anke von Kugelgen and Dmitruy Yermankov (eds.), Muslim Culture in Russia and Central Asia from the 18th to the Early 20th Century (vol. 1, Berlin, 1996), 385-413.
- Anke von Kugelgen, “Sufimeister und Herrscher im Zwiegesprach: Die Schreiben des Fadl Ahmad aus Peschawar an Amir Haydar in Buchara,” in Anke von Kugelgen, Asirbek Muminov and Michael Kemper (eds.), Muslim Culture in Russia and Central Asia from the 18th to the Early 20th Centuries (vol. 3, Berlin, 2000), 219-351.
- Anke von Kugelgen, “Die Entfaltung der Naqsbandiya mugaddidiya in mittleren Transoxanien vom 18. bis zum Beginn des 19. Jahrhunderts: Ein Stuck Detekti- varbeit,” in Anke von Kugelgen, Michael Kemper and Allen J. Frank (eds.), Muslim Culture in Russia and Central Asia from the 18th to the Early 20th Century (vol. 2, Berlin, 1998), 101-151.
- Isenbike Togan, “Islam in a Changing Society: The Khojas of Eastern Turkistan,” in Jo-Ann Gross (ed.), Muslims in Central Asia: Expressions of Identity and Change (Durham, 1992), 134-148.
- Alexandre Papas, “L’Islam en Asie centrale: etude d’une grande confrerie soufie du Turkestan oriental, la Naqshbandiyya Afaqiyya (XVIIe-XVIIIe siecles)” (Ph.D. dissertation, EHESS Paris, 2004).
- Thierry Zarcone, “Sufis d’Asie centrale au Tibet aux xvi et xvii siecles,” CAC 1-2 (1996), 325-344.
- Alexandre Papas, “’Dancez et Chantez’: le droit au sama’ selon Afaq Khwaja, maitre Naqshbandi du Turkestan (XVIIe siecle),” JHS 4 (2003), 169-180.
- Fletcher, “Northwest China,” 9-11, 20-22. For the political vicissitudes in the fortunes of the two Khoja lines, see also Schwarz, “The Khwajas,” 275-291.
- Fletcher, “Northwest China,” 11-20.
6 SCHOLARSHIP AND ORGANIZATION INTO THE MODERN
WORLD (NINETEENTH CENTURY TO THE PRESENT)
- Levtzion and Voll, Renewal and Reform, 1-18.
- The first scholar to note Khalid’s prominence was Albert H. Hourani in his “Sufism and Modern Islam: Mawlana Khalid and the Naqshbandi Order,” in The
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Emergence of the Modern Middle East (London, 1981), 75-89. The following biography is based principally on Abu-Manneh, Studies on Islam, 13-22. See also his, “A New Look at the Rise and Expansion of the Khalidi Sub-Order,” in Ahmet Yasar Ocak (ed.), Sufism and Sufis in Ottoman Society (Ankara, 2005), 279-314.
Butrus Abu-Manneh, “Salafiyya and the Rise of the Khalidiyya in Baghdad in the Early Nineteenth Century,” WI 43 (2003), 349-372.
Halkawt Hakim, “Mawlana Khalid et les pouvoirs,” in Naqshbandis, 361-370.
Abu-Manneh, Studies on Islam, 46-71.
For his library, see Frederick de Jong and Jan Just Witkam, “The Library of al- sayk IKalid al-Sahrazuri al-Naqsbandi: a Facsimile of the Inventory of his Library (MS Damascus, Maktabat al-Asad, No. 259),” Manuscripts of the Middle East 2 (1987), 68-73.
As’ad al-Sahib (ed.), Bughyat al-wajid fi maktubat Mawlana Khalid (Damascus, 1334/1916), 53.
Weismann, Taste of Modernity, 40-47.
Ahmad ibn Sulayman al-Baghdadi, al-Hadiqa al-nadiyya fi adab al-tariqa al- Naqshbandiyya wa’l-bahja al-Khalidiyya (Cairo, 1313/1895), 79-80. Reproduced in a shorter version in Sahib, Bughyat al-wajid, 174-177. Compare Abu-Manneh, Studies on Islam, 40.
Thierry Zarcone, “Experience de la mort et preparation a la mort dans l’Islam mystique: le cas des Naqshbandi de Turquie,” in Gilles Veinstein (ed.), Les Ottomans et la mort: permanences et mutations (Leiden, 1996), 135-154.
Hamid Algar, “Devotional Practices of the Khalidi Naqshbandis of Ottoman Turkey,” in Raymond Lifchez (ed.), The Dervish Lodge: Architecture, Art, and Sufism in Ottoman Turkey (Berkeley, 1992), 209-227; Meier, Zwei Abhandlungen, 40-48, 188-209; Butrus Abu-Manneh, “Khalwa and Rabita in the Khalidi Suborder,” in Naqshbandis, 289-302, reprinted in his Studies on Islam, 27-40; Weismann, Taste of Modernity, 29-55.
Abu-Manneh, Studies on Islam, 73-129.
See Butrus Abu-Manneh, “Sultan Abdulhamid II and Shaikh Abulhuda al-Sayyadi,” MES 15 (1979), 131-153.
Zarcone, “Histoire et croyance,” 150-151.
Kreiser, “Kasgari Tekyesi,” 333-334.
Hamid Algar, “Political Aspects of Naqshbandi History,” in Naqshbandis, 140-141.
Abu-Manneh, Studies on Islam, 149-159.
[al- Gumushanevi], Ahmad. Jami‘ al-usul fi al-awliya’: al-awliya’ wa-awsafuhum (Beirut, 1997), 213.
See Chapter 9.
Algar, “Naqshbandi Tariqat in Bosnia,” 181-203.
Darko Tanascovic, “La situation actuelle de l’ordre des Naqshbandis au Kosovo et en Macedoine,” in Naqshbandis, 681-690.
Ibrahim Fasih al-Haydari, al-Majd al-talid fi manaqib al-Shaykh Khalid ([Istanbul], 1292/1875), 53.
Itzchak Weismann, “The Naqshbandiyya-Khalidiyya and the Salafi Challenge in Iraq,” JHS 4 (2003), 229-240.
See below.
Frederick de Jong, “Les confreries mystiques musulmanes au Machreq arabe,” in Alexandre Popovic and Gilles Veinstein (eds.), Les ordres mystiques dans l’Islam (Paris, 1986), 228-229.
Weismann, Taste of Modernity, 75-100.
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Abd al-Majid Al-Khani, al-Hada iq al-wardiyya fi haqa iq ajilla al- Naqshbandiyya (Cairo, 1308/1890), 290.
Weismann, Taste of Modernity, 100-140.
Itzchak Weismann, “The Forgotten Shaykh: ‘Isa al-Kurdi and the Transformation of the Naqshbandi-Khalidi Order in Twentieth Century Syria,” WI 43 (2003), 373-393.
Frederick de Jong, “The Naqshbandiyya in Egypt and Syria. Aspects of Its History and Observations Concerning Its Present-Day Condition,” in Naqshbandis, 593-594.
Fusfeld, “Sufi Leadership,” 242-243.
Martin van Bruinessen, “The Origins and Development of the Naqshbandi Order in Indonesia,” Der Islam 67 (1990), 164-165.
Muhammad Murad al-Qazani al-Manzilawi, Dhayl Rashahat ‘ayn al-hayah (Mecca, 1890), 156.
For an analysis of one of the books, see Madelain Habib, “Some Notes on the Naqshbandi Order,” Muslim World 59 (1969), 40-49.
Muhammad Amin Al-Kurdi, Tanwir al-qulub fi mu‘amalat ‘ulum al-ghuyub (Beirut, 1994), 15.
De Jong, “Egypt and Syria,” 589-592, 595-599.
Martin van Bruinessen, “The Naqshbandi Order in 17th-Century Kurdistan,” in Naqshbandis, 337-360; Le Gall, Culture of Sufism, 70-80.
Martin van Bruinessen, Agha, Shaykh and State: The Social and Political Structures of Kurdistan (London, 1992), 224-234.
Haydari, Majd al-talid, 59.
Ferhad Shakely, “The Naqshbandi Sheikhs of Hawraman and the Heritage of Khalidiyya-Mujaddidiyya in Kurdistan,” in NWCA, 89-100.
“Al Qaeda surrogate Islamic Group in Southern Kurdistan Destroys Sufi Shrines,” Press release, the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan, 28 July 2002 www.puk.org/web/ htm/news/press/aiq.html, I am indebted to Dr. Michael Eppel for this reference.
Martin van Bruinessen, “The Sadate Nehri or Gilanizade of Central Kurdistan,” JHS 1-2 (2000), 79-92; Joyce Blau, “Le role des cheikhs Naqshbandi dans le mouvement national kurde,” in Naqshbandis, 373-374.
Van Bruinessen, Agha, Shaykh and State, 265-305; For a detailed description of the military campaigns during the revolt and its national and international implications, which are beyond the scope of this study, see Robert W. Olson, The Emergence of Kurdish Nationalism and the Sheikh Said Rebellion, 1880-1925 (Austin, 1989).
Van Bruinessen, Agha, Shaykh and State, 254-255.
Blau, “Le role,” 375-376; Van Bruinessen, Agha, Shaykh and State, passim.
There are two book-length studies of the Muslim struggle against Russia in the Caucasus: Moshe Gammer, Muslim Resistance to the Tsar: Shamil and the Conquest of Chechnya and Daghestan (London, 1994); Anna Zelkina, In Quest for God and Freedom: The Sufi Response to the Russian Advance in the North Caucasus (London, 2000). This section is largely based on these. See also Clemens P. Sidorko, “Die Naqsbandiyya im nordostlichen Kaukasus: Ein historischer Uberblick,” Asiatische Studien 51 (1997), 627-650; Michael Kemper, “Einige Notizen zur arabischsprachigen Literatur der gihad-Bewegung in Dagestan und Tschetschenien in der ersten Halfte des 19. Jahrhunderts,” in Anke von Kugel- gen, Michael Kemper and Allen J. Frank (eds.), Muslim Culture in Russia and Central Asia from the 18th to the Early 20th Century (vol. 2, Berlin, 1998), 63-99.
Butrus Abu-Manneh, “The Role of Shaikh Ismail al-Shirwani in the Khalidi
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Suborder, in David J. Wasserstein and Moshe Gammer (eds.), Daghestan in the World of Islam (Helsinki, 2006), 69-79.
Moshe Gammer, “The Beginnings of the Naqshbandiyya in Daghestan and the Russian Conquest of the Caucasus,” WI 34 (1994), 204-217.
Austin Lee Jersild, “Who was Shamil? Russian Colonial Rule and Sufi Islam in the North Caucasus 1859-1917,” CAS 14 (1995) 205-223.
The principal studies of the Indonesian Naqshbandiyya are: Martin van Bruines- sen, “The Origins and Development of the Naqshbandi Order in Indonesia,” Der Islam 67 (1990), 150-179; Werner Kraus, “Some Notes on the Introduction of the Naqshbandiyya-Khalidiyya into Indonesia,” in Naqshbandis, 691-706.
See Table 6.2, p. 99.
On Rokan and his village see Denys Lombard, “Tarekat et enterprise a Sumatra: l’exemple de Syekh Abdul Wahab Rokan (c. 1830-1926),” in Naqshbandis, 707-715. Personal visit, 25 September 2003.
- THE PERSISTENCE OF THE OLDER TRADITIONS
Fusfeld, “Sufi Leadership,” 198-241. See also idem “The Boundaries of Islam and Infidelity,” in Katherine P. Ewing (ed.), Shari'at and Ambiguity in South Asian Islam (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1988), 205-219.
Interview with the present heads of the two Naqshbandi lineages in Hyderabad, Shah Anwarallah Sahib and Taskin Shah II, 4 February 2003.
Arthur F. Buehler, Sufi Heirs of the Prophet: The Indian Naqshbandiyya and the Rise of the Mediating Sufi Shaykh (Columbia SC, 1998), 174-175.
Fusfeld, “Sufi Leadership,” 242-273, and his “Naqshbandi Sufism and Reformist Islam,” in Bruce B. Lawrence (ed.), Ibn Khaldun and Islamic Ideology (Leiden, 1984), 89-110.
For a partial list see Buehler, Sufi Heirs, 171-175.
Interview with Sayyid Muhammad Yahya, guardian of the Mujaddidi lodge in Sirhind, 10 February 2003.
Obaidullah Naqshbandi Mujaddidi Inayati, Light of Gnosis (Rampur, n.d.), 45-46.
Interview with ‘Ubaydullah ‘Inayati, 20 February 2004.
Buehler, Sufi Heirs, 190-223.
See Arthur F. Buehler, “Charismatic versus Scriptural Authority: Naqshbandi Responses to Deniers of Mediational Sufism in British India,” in Frederick de Jong and Bernd Radtke (eds.), Sufism Contested: Thirteen Centuries of Controversies and Polemics (Leiden, 1999), 468-491.
Marc Gaborieau, “Les protestations d’un soufi indien contemporain contre trois interpretations recents de Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindi,” in Naqshbandis, 237-267.
Interview with Abu al-Nasr Anas Faruqi, present master of the Khanqah-i Abu al-Khayr, Delhi, 6 and 7 February 2003.
Pnina Werbner, Pilgrims of Love: The Anthropology of a Global Sufi Cult (Bloomington, 2003).
Pnina Werbner, “Seekers on the Path: Different Ways of Being a Sufi in Britain,” in Jamal Malik and John Hinnels (eds.), Sufism in the West (London and New York, 2006), 127-141.
For a survey of Naqshbandi centers in Afghanistan before the destruction of the civil war and Soviet occupation, see Bo Utas, “The Naqshbandiyya of Afghanistan on the Eve of the 1978 Coup d’Etat,” in NWCA, 117-127.
David B. Edwards, “The Political Lives of the Afghan Saints: The Case of the
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Kabul Hazrats, in Grace Martin Smith and Carl W Ernst (eds.), Manifestations of Sainthood in Islam (Istanbul, 1993), 171-192.
Alexandre Bennigsen and S. Enders Wimbush, Mystics and Commissars: Sufism in the Soviet Union (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1985).
Hamid Algar, “Shaykh Zaynullah Rasulev: The Last Great Naqshbandi Shaykh of the Volga-Urals-Region,” in Jo-Ann Gross (ed.), Muslims in Central Asia: Expressions of Identity and Change (Durham, 1992), 112-115. On the Jadid movement, see Chapter 8.
Chantal Quelqujay, “Le Vaisisme a Kazan - contribution a l’etude des confreries musulmanes chez les Tatars de la Volga,” WI 6 (1959), 91-112.
Algar, “Zaynullah Rasulev,” 115-133.
Thierry Zarcone, “Les confreries soufies en Siberie (xixe siecle et debut xxe siecle),” Cahiers du Monde Russe 41 (2000), 279-296.
Bennigsen and Wimbush, Mystics and Commissars, 19-31.
Galina Yemelianova, “Sufism and Politics in the North Caucasus,” Nationalities Papers 29 (2001), 661-688.
Baxtiyar Babadzanov, “Dukci Isan und der Aufstand von Andizan 1898,” in Anke von Kugelgen, Michael Kemper and Allen J. Frank (eds.), Muslim Culture in Russia and Central Asia from the 18th to the Early 20th Century (vol. 2, Berlin, 1998), 167-191.
Thierry Zarcone, “Sufi Lineages and Saint Veneration in Russia, Soviet Tatarstan and Central Asia in the 20th Century,” The Turks and Turkish World (Ankara, 2002), 6: 93-96.
Bennigsen and Wimbush, Mystics and Commissars, 41-42.
For a description of the mausoleum, its history, and the rites performed during the pilgrimage to the site, see Thierry Zarcone, “Le mausolee de Bahauddin Naqsh- band a Bukhara (Uzbekistan - C.E.I),” in Henri Chambert-Loir and Claude Guillot (eds.), Le culte des saints dans le monde musulman (Paris, 1995), 321-333.
Joseph Fletcher, “The Naqshbandiyya and the Dhikr-i arra,” Journal of Turkish Studies 1 (1977), 113-119.
Not to be confused with the Khafi-Jahri division in the Ferghana valley and Western Turkistan.
For this question see especially Francoise Aubin, “En Islam chinois: quels Naqshbandis?” in Naqshbandis, 491-572; Raphael Israeli, “The Naqshbandiyya and Factionalism in Chinese Islam,” ibid., 575-587. Israeli claims that the term Old Teaching did not refer to the Naqshbandiyya, but to the Hanafi Islam of the Chinese ulama and masses, and that the New Teaching, whose roots lay in the Jahriyya, actually turned into what their opponents dubbed “Wahhabiyun.” Fletcher, “Northwest China,” 24-34.
Masami Hamada, “De l’autorite religieuse au pouvoir politique: la revolte de Kuca et Khawaja Rashidin,” in Naqshbandis, 455-489.
Togan, “Islam in a Changing Society,” 136.
Fletcher, “Northwest China,” 34-43.
Thierry Zarcone, “Sufi Lineages and Saint Veneration in 20th Century Eastern Turkistan and Contemporary Xinjiang,” The Turks and Turkish World (Ankara, 2002), 534-537.
Thierry Zarcone, “Quand le saint legitime le politique: Le mausolee d’Afaq Khwaja a Kashgar,” CAS 18 (1999), 225-241.
Visit to the Afaq Khoja mazar in Kashghar, 19 August 2006.
Visit to the Ayyub Qari mosque in Yarkand oasis, 21 August 2006.
Interview with Hidayatullah Andijani in Yarkand, 20 August 2006.
Fletcher, “Northwest China,” 43-46.
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Interview with Muhammad Xix, imam of the Flowery Mosque Shrine in Linxia, 9 August 2006.
- MODERN TRANSFORMATIONS ON THE PATH
(SEVENTEENTH TO TWENTIETH CENTURIES)
On these masters see Figure 3.2.
Kasim Kufrevi, “Birgewi (Birgiwi, Birgeli) Mehmed b. Pir ‘Ali,” EI2.
Madeline Zilfi, “The Kadizadelis: Discordant Revivalism in Seventeenth-Century Istanbul,” Journal of Near Eastern Studies 45 (1986), 251-268.
Le Gall, Culture of Sufism, 150-156.
See Chapter 4.
Annemarie Schimmel, Pain and Grace (Leiden, 1976), 31-147; Rizvi, Shah Wali- Allah , 343-357.
Mir Dard, Nala-i Dard, quoted in Schimmel, Pain and Grace, 53-54.
On the study circles to which Kurani belonged, see John Voll, “Hadith Scholars and Tariqas, 264-273.
J.M.S. Baljon, Religious and Political Thought of Shah Wali Allah Dihlawi, 1703-1762 (Leiden, 1986), 4-5, 8, 84-85; Rizvi, Shah Wali-Allah, 205-220.
Habib, “Political Role,” 217-220; Charles J. Adams, “The Naqshbandis of India and the Pakistan Movement,” in Naqshbandis, 221-229.
Ahmad Shah Waliullah, Hujjat Allah al-baligha (Cairo, 1355/1936), 1: 2.
For a useful summary of Waliullah’s positions, see Metcalf, Islamic Revival, 35-45.
Rizvi, Shah ‘Abdal-Aziz, 76-77, 151-168.
Metcalf, Islamic Revival, 46-52.
Shah Ismail Shaheed, Taqwiyat-ul-iman, trans. and ed. Badar Azimabadi (Delhi, 1995), 235.
Ahmad Aziz, Studies in Islamic Culture in the Indian Environment (Oxford, 1964), 209-216, Metcalf, Islamic Revival, 52-68, 79-80.
Gaborieau, “Les protestations,” 264.
John Voll, “Muhammad Hayya al-Sindi and Muhammad ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhab: an Analysis of an Intellectual Group in Eighteenth-Century Medina,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 38 (1975), 32-38.
See Chapter 5.
Michael Kemper, “Entre Boukhara et la Moyenne-Volga: ‘Abd an-Nasir al- Qursawi (1776-1812) en conflit avec les oulemas traditionalists,” Cahiers du Monde Russe 37 (1996), 41-52; Mahmud Tahir, “Abunnasir Kursavi 1776-1812,” CAS 8 (1989), 155-158.
See the discussion in Sirriyeh, Sufis and Anti-Sufis, 54-111.
Altaf Husain Hali, Hayat-i Javed, trans. K.H. Qadiri and David J. Matthews (Delhi, 1979), 17.
Christian W. Troll, Sayyid Ahmad Khan: A Reinterpretation of Muslim Theology (New Delhi, 1978), 28-57.
Hali, Hayat-i Javed; David Lelyveld, Aligarh’s First Generation: Muslim Solidarity in British India (Princeton, 1978).
Metcalf, Islamic Revival, 268-296, esp. 274.
Mardin, “The Naksibendi order,” 131.
Abu-Manneh, Studies on Islam, 129-135.
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The most comprehensive description of the movement is still Serif Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought (Princeton, 1962).
Itzchak Weismann, “Between Sufi Reformism and Modernist Rationalism: A Reappraisal of the Origins of the Salafiyya from the Damascene Angle,” WI 41 (2001), 231-235.
See Basheer M. Nafi, “Abu al-Thana’ al-Alusi: An Alim, Ottoman Mufti, and Exegete of the Qur’an,” IJMES 34 (2002), 465-494.
Itzchak Weismann, “The Salafi Challenge in Iraq,” 229-240. On Ibn Jirjis, see Chapter 6.
Weismann, Taste of Modernity, part 2.
See Chapter 6.
Weismann, Taste of Modernity, part 3. For the Damascene Salafiyya in general, see David Dean Commins, Islamic Reform: Politics and Social Change in Late Ottoman Syria (New York, 1990).
Itzchak Weismann, “The Hidden Hand: The Khalidiyya and OrthodoxFundamentalist Cooperation in Aleppo,” JHS, forthcoming.
‘Abd al-Rahman al-Kawakibi, Umm al-Qura (2nd ed., Beirut, 1982), 182. Muhammad Rashid Rida, al-Manar wa’l-Azhar (Cairo, 1352/1933), 148-152. Albert H. Hourani, “Sufism and Modern Islam, 75-89.
Rashid Rida, “al-Rabita ‘inda al-Naqshbandiyya wa-ta‘at al-murid li-shaykhihi,” al-Manar 11 (1908), 504-515. The citation is from 509-510.
Kemper, “Entre Boukhara et la Moyenne-Volga,” 46-49. See also Bennigsen and Wimbush, Mystics and Commissars, 37-39.
- THE CONTEMPORARY SITUATION
Jamal Malik, “The Making of a Council: The Nadwat al-‘Ulama’,” ZDMG 144 (1994), 60-90.
Maulana Abul Hasan Ali Nadwi, Saviours of Islamic Spirit, vol. 3: Shaikh Ahmad Mujaddid Alf Thani (2nd ed., Lucknow, 1994), 1-2. Nadwi explains in the introduction that he was inspired to write this exposition of Sirhindi’s life and work in the late 1970s in an attempt to demonstrate to the contemporary radical Islamist movements that a revivalist strategy should aim at guiding the government rather than at overthrowing it.
Abu al-Hasan ‘Ali al-Nadwi, “Faragh yajib an yumla’,” in Rabbaniyya la rah- baniyya (4th ed., Beirut, 1986), 7-8. First published in Hadarat al-Islam 1, 9 (1380/ 1961), 25-33.
Jan-Peter Hartung, Viele Wege und ein Ziel: Leben und Wirken von Sayyid Abu l-Hasan ‘Ali al-Hasani Nadwi (1914-1999) (Wurzburg, 2004), esp. 250-271.
Thomas Dahnhardt, Change and Continuity.
Mardin, “The Naksibendi Order, 121-142.
Zarcone, Thierry “Les Naksibendi et la republique turque: de la persecution au repositionnement theologique, politique et social (1925-1991),” Turcica 24 (1992), 133-151; idem, “The Transformation of the Sufi Orders (Tarikat) in the Turkish Republic and the Question of Crypto-Sufism,” in Jayne L. Warner (ed.), Cultural Horizons: A Festschrift in Honor of Talat S. Halman (New York, 2001), 198-209. See Chapter 6.
Hakan Yavuz, “The Matrix of Modern Turkish Islamic Movements: the Naqshbandi Sufi Order,” in NWCA, 135.
Algar, “Kashghar to Eyup,” 12-13; Zarcone, “republique turque,” 137-139; idem, “soufis kurdes,” 113-114.
See Chapter 6.
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Zarcone, Histoire et croyance, 192-193.
For a biography of Zahid Kotku, see Zarcone, “role socio-politique,” 416-418; www.gumushkhanawidargah.8m.com/silsile39.html. See also the account of Turgut Ozal’s brother, Korkut Ozal, “Twenty years with Mehmed Zahid Kotku: A Personal Story,” in NWCA, 159-176. Another popular master of this line was Sami Ramazanoglu (d. 1984) of Adana.
From Mehmed Zahid Kotku, Tasavvufi Ahlaq, cited in Ozal, “Twenty years,” 171. On Erbakan and his political career, see Haldun Gulalp, “Political Islam in Turkey: The Rise and Fall of the Refah Party,” The Muslim World 89 (1999), 350-376. On Esad Cosan’s life and a list of his books, see www.gumushkhanawidargah. 8m.com/silsile40.html
On the rift between Cosan and Erbakan, see Zarcone, “republique turque,” 147148.
Yavuz, “Matrix,” 137-146; Thierry Zarcone, “L’heritage actuel de la Naksibendiye en Turquie et en Egypt,” Dossier du Cedej (1992), 107-126. See also the official site of the center, www.iskenderpasa.com
www.gumushkhanawidargah.8m.com/mnc.html and the official site of the branch that Cosan established during his stay in Australia www.haqq.com.au
Interview with V. Arda Ercetin, Acting General Coordinator of the Naqshbandi center in Uskudar, 12 August 2005.
Zarcone, “role socio-politique,” 413.
Visit to Ismail Agha mosque, 17 September 2002.
Fulya Atacan, “A Portrait of a Naqshbandi Sheikh in Modern Turkey,” in NWCA, 147-157.
Sencer Ayata, “Traditional Sufi Orders on the Periphery: Kadiri and Naksibendi Islam in Konya and Trebzon,” in Richard Tapper (ed.), Islam in Modern Turkey (London, 1991), 223-253.
See Chapter 6.
Zarcone, “soufis kurdes,” 114-117; idem, “Reseaux confreriques et guides charis- matiques dans les relations turco-arabes (heritage de l’histoire et situation actuelle),” Anatolia Moderna 4 (1992), 99-107.
Visit to Menzil, 11 August 2005.
The most detailed and contextual account on the life of Said Nursi is the booklength work of Serif Mardin, Religion and Social Change in Modern Turkey: The Case of Bediuzzaman Said Nursi (Albany NY, 1989), esp. 42-102.
Hamid Algar, “Said al-Nursi and the Risala-i Nur: An Aspect of Islam in Contemporary Turkey,” in Khurshid Ahmad and Zafar Ishaq Ansari (eds.), Studies in Honor of Mawlana Sayyid Abul A’la Mawdudi (Leicester, 1979), 313-333.
Bediuzzaman Said Nursi, From the Risale-I Nur Collection, trans. Sukran Vahide (4 vols., Istanbul, 1995), 3: 355-356.
Hamid Algar, “Sufism and Tariqat in the Life and Work of Bediuzzaman Said Nursi,” JHS 3 (2001), 199-221.
Hamid Algar, “The Centennial Renewer: Bediuzzaman Said Nursi and the Tradition of Tajdid,” JIS 12 (2001), 291-311.
Hakan Yavuz, “Print-Based Islamic Discourse and Modernity: The Nur Movement,” Nesil Foundation (eds.), The Third International Symposium on Bediuzzaman SaidNursi (Istanbul, 1997), 324-350. Zarcone characterizes this organization as crypto-Sufism. See Zarcone, “Soufis kurdes,” 117.
Hakan Yavuz, “Islam in the Public Sphere: The Case of the Nur Movement,” in Hakan M. Yavuz and John L. Esposito (eds.), Turkish Islam and the Secular State: The Gulen Movement (Syracuse, 2003), 15-18.
Yavuz and Esposito, The Gulen Movement. See also Rainer Hermann, “Fethullah
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Gulen - eine muslimische Alternative zur Refah Partei? Orient 37 (1996), 619646; Hakan Yavuz, “Toward an Islamic Liberalism?: The Nurcu Movement and Fethullah Gulen,” Middle East Journal 53 (1999), 584-605; Elisabeth Ozdalga, “Worldly Asceticism in Islamic Casting: Fethullah Gulen’s Inspired Piety and Activism,” Critique 17 (2000), 8 3-104.
The stories produced at that time by the opponents of the Sulaymanfi seem to be uncritically reproduced by Gokalp, who relates that Tunahan was depicted in the organization’s propaganda as the Mahdi of the fourteenth century (1979), that during the Second World War he was implicated in pro-Nazi activity and wanted to join the Muslim SS in Yugoslavia, and that his followers hold a military-type chain of command and espouse an extreme right-wing Pan-Turkish ideology. See Altan Gokalp, “Les fruits de l’arbre plutot que ses racines: Le Suleymanisme,” in Naqshbandis, 421-435.
Gerdien Jonker, “The Evolution of the Naqshbandi-Mujaddidi: The Sulaymanfis in Germany,” in Jamal Malik and John Hinnels (eds.), Sufism in the West (London and New York, 2006), 71-85.
On Kuftaru and the Kuftariyya, see Annabelle Bottcher, Syrische Religionspolitik unter Asad (Freiburg, 1998), 147-223; Leif Stenberg, “Naqshbandiyya in Damascus: Strategies to Establish and Strengthen the Order in a Changing Society,” in NWCA, 101-116.
On ‘Isa al-Kurdi see ch. 6.
Frederick De Jong, “Egypt and Syria,” 599-601.
Annabelle Bottcher, “L’elite feminine kurde de la Kaftariyya: une confrerie Naqshbandi Damascene,” in Martin van Bruinessen (ed.), Islam des Kurdes (Paris, 1998), 125-139.
For the will, see www.kuftaro.org and www.abunour.net. I’m indebted to Prof. Michel Chodkiewicz for this reference.
Itzchak Weismann, “Sufi Fundamentalism in India and the Middle East,” in Martin van Bruinessen and Julia Howell (eds.), Sufism and the ‘Modern’ in Islam (London and New York, 2007), 115-128.
www.abrahamicreligions.com/Kuftaru/htm.
Itzchak Weismann, “Modern Sufi Attitudes toward the West: Four Naqshbandi Cases,” in Meir Litvak (ed.), Middle Eastern Societies and the West: Accommodation or Clash of Civilizations? (Tel-Aviv, 2006), 221-236.
‘Imad ‘Abd al-Latif Naddaf, al-Shaykh Ahmad Kuftaru yatahaddathu (Beirut, 1997), 191.
See Itzchak Weismann, “The Politics of Popular Islam: Sufis, Salafis, and Muslim Brothers in Twentieth Century Hamah,” IJMES 37 (2005), 39-58; idem, “Hidden Hand.”
Itzchak Weismann, “Sa'id Hawwa: The Making of a Radical Muslim Thinker in Modern Syria,” MES 29 (1993), 601-623.
Itzchak Weismann, “Sa'id Hawwa and Islamic Revivalism in Ba'thist Syria,” Studia Islamica 85 (1997), 131-154.
Sa'id Hawwa, Kay la namdi ba‘idan ‘an ihtiyajat al-‘asr (Beirut and Amman, 1988), 140-141.
Bakhtiyar Babajanov, “Le renouveau des connunautes soufies en Ouzbekistan,” CAC 5-6 (1998), 285-311; Vernon James Schubel, “Post-Soviet Hagiography and the Reconstruction of the Naqshbandi Tradition in Contemporary Uzbekistan,” in NWCA, 73-87; Zarcone, “Russia, Soviet Tatarstan and Central Asia,” 96-98.
For a survey of the Naqshbandi involvement in the resistance, see Olivier Roy, “La Naqshbandiyya en Afghanistan,” in Naqshbandis, 447-454.
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Kenneth Paul Lizzio, Saving Grace: Naqshbandi Spiritual Transmission in the Asian Subcontinent, 1928-1997” (Ph.D. Dissertation, University of Arizona, 1998).
See ch. 7.
Edwards, “Afghan Saints,” 183-191.
Van Bruinessen, “Origins and Development,” 175-179.
Visit of Surau Baitulamin, the center of the branch in Bogor, 6 September 2003. www.oxcis.ac.uk
www.kuftaro.org/English/biography/American.htm
For Nazim’s official biography see ‘Adnan Muhammad al-Qabbani, al-Futuhat al- haqqaniyya fi manaqib ajilla’ al-silsila al-dhahabiyya li’l-tariqa al-Naqshbandiyya al-‘aliyya (n.p, n.d.), 326-347. A luxury though shortened edition of this book was published in English for Western consumption as Muhammad Hisham al- Kabbani, The Naqshbandi Sufi Way: History and Guidebook of the Saints of the Golden Chain (Chicago, 1995).
For the operation of the brotherhood in Lebanon in 1980-1981, see Daphne Habibis, “Change and Continuity: A Sufi Order in Contemporary Lebanon,” Social Analysis 31 (1992), 44-78; idem, “Millenarianism and Mahdism in Lebanon,” Archives Europeenes de Sociologie 30 (1989), 221-240.
For the Haqqani community in London, see Tayfun Atay, “Naqshbandi Sufis in a Western Setting” (D. Phil. Thesis, University of London (SOAS), 1995).
Jorgen S. Nielsen, Mustafa Draper and Galina Yemelianova, “Transnational Sufism: The Haqqaniyya,” in Jamal Malik and John Hinnels (eds.), Sufism in the West (London and New York, 2006), 105-107.
Ibid., 113.
Annabelle Bottcher, “The Naqshbandiyya in the United States,” www.naqshbandi.net; David Damrel, “Aspects of the Naqshbandi-Haqqani Order in North America,” in Jamal Malik and John Hinnels (eds.), Sufism in the West (London and New York, 2006), 115-126. The Haqqaniyya-run websites include: the US organization - www.naqshbandi.org; the as-Sunna Foundation in America - www.sunna.org; the Islamic Supreme Council of America - www.islamicsupremecouncil.org; and the Muslim Women’s organization - www.kamilat.org. See also, Garbi Schmidt, “Sufi Charisma on the Internet,” in David Westerlund (ed.), Sufism in Europe and North America (London and New York, 2004), 109-126.
www.haqqaninaqshbandiuk.com/a-new-page-is -open.html
See Dave Eberhart, “Muslim Moderate Kabbani Firm on Terrorist Nuclear Threat,” NewsMax.com (19.11.2001). An amended text appears in www.islamicsupremecouncil.org/Statement/Islamic extremism.htm
Ian K.B. Draper, “From Celts to Kaaba: Sufism in Glastonbury,” in David Wester- lund (ed.), Sufism in Europe and North America (London and New York, 2004), 144-156.
Atay, “Western Setting,” chs. 6-9; David Damrel, “A Sufi Apocalypse,” ISIM Newsletter 4 (1999), 1-4; Muhammad Nazim ‘Adil al-Haqqani al-Naqshbandi, Mystical Secrets of the Last Days (Los Altos Ca., 1994).
Sara Sviri, “Daughter of Fire by Irina Tweedie: Documentation and Experience of a Modern Naqshbandi Sufi,” in E. Puttick and P.B. Clark (eds.), Women as Teachers and Disciples in Traditional and New Religions (Lewiston, 1993), 77-89. www.Goldensufi.org; www.suficonference.org
Antoon Geels, Subud and the Javanese Mystical Tradition (Richmond, Surrey, 1997). The official website is www.subud.org
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Websites
www.abrahamicreligions.com www.abunour.net
www.goldensufi.org
www.gumushkhanawidargah.com www.haqq.com.au
www.haqqaninaqshbandiuk.com www.iskenderpasa.com www.islamicsupremecouncil.org www.kamilat.org www.kuftaro.org www.naqshbandi.org www.oxcis.ac.uk
www.subud.org www.suficonference.org www.sunna.org
INDEX
‘Abdallah Shah 114
‘Abduh, Muhammad 142, 144
‘Abdulaziz, Shah 137
Abdulhamid II 11, 91, 93, 95, 96, 142, 144, 157
Abdulkarim of Banten 112
Abdullaev, Mukhtar 163
Abdullah, Raja 110
‘Abdullatif 45, 134
Abdulqadir of Samaranj 112
Abu Bakr al-Siddiq 11, 23, 24
Abu Ghudda, ‘Abd al-Fattah 162
Abu al-Khayr, Shah viii, 113, 115, 116, 119
Abu-Manneh, Butrus 77, 91
Abu Sa‘id, Shah 114, 115
Adyaman (Menzil) 156, 157
Afaq, Khoja (Hidayatullah) viii, 82, 83, 128, 130
Afaqiyya 81, 82, 113, 127, 128, 131
Afghanistan 11, 31, 62, 116-119, 121-122, 148, 164-165
Agra 51, 52, 56, 120
Ahl-i Hadith 118, 119, 133, 141-143
Ahmad Khan, Sayyid 133, 140-142
Ahmad Sa‘id 98, 99, 114, 115, 116
Ahrar, ‘Ubaydullah Nasir viii, 1, 2, 10, 15, 18, 19, 27, 29, 30, 32-47, 49, 51-53, 55, 69, 87
Algar, Hamid xiii, 20, 94
‘Ali ibn Abi Talib 11, 23, 24, 30, 60
‘Ali al-Rida 23
Aligarh Muslim University viii, 141
Aleppo 46, 143, 144, 162
Alusi family 95
al-Alusi, Abu al-Thana’ 95, 142-143
al-Alusi, Nu’man Khayr al-Din 133, 142-143
Amkanaji, Khwajagi 53
Anatolia 1, 7, 44, 45-46, 88, 93, 107
Andaki, Hasan 21
‘Andalib, Muhammad Nasir 50, 63, 133, 135-136, 138
Andijan 41, 51, 127, 129-131, 163
Andijani, ‘Abdullah 130, 131
Anwar ‘Ali 119
Anwarullah sahib 115
Arberry A.J. 6
Arvasi, Abdulhakim 152
Arzinjani, ‘Abdullah 92, 97, 98, 99, 110
‘Ashiq, Ahmad 98
‘ Ashir, Mehmed 91
‘Ata, Fayz Khan 123
Ates, Osman Hulusi 155
‘Attar, ‘Ala’uddin 14, 18, 19, 29, 30, 31,
- 52
‘Attar, Hasan 30, 32
Aurangabad viii, 53, 54, 62
Australia 154, 166
Awliya’-yi Kabir 27
al-‘Aydarus, ‘Abd al-Rahman 139
al-‘Ayyashi, Abu Salim 69, 70
al-Azhar 100, 119, 148, 164
‘Azimabadi, Ghulam Yahya 66
‘Aziz Mahmud 101-102
Babakhanov family 113, 127
Babur 49, 51
Babussalam viii, 111
Badayuni, Nur Muhammad 63, 64
Baghdad 7, 18, 85, 88, 94, 95, 142, 143, 144
al-Baghdadi, Ahmad ibn Sulayman 86
Baha’uddin Naqshband (Muhammad al-Uwaysi al-Bukhari) 2, 5, 10, 14, 15-18, 21, 22, 25, 27, 28, 30, 31, 32, 60, 69, 78, 125, 135
Bahraichi, Na'imullah 66, 151
al-Bali, Husayn 143
Balkans 94, 159
Balkh 15, 31, 32
Bamrani, Ahmad 105
al-Banna, Hasan 162
Banuri, Adam 62, 70, 72, 136
baqa’ (subsistence in God) 4, 59
Baqi Billah (Sayyid Raziuddin) ix, 49,
52-56, 61, 68, 70, 136
baraka (spiritual power) 7
Baraki, ‘Abdallah 21
Barelvi, Sayyid Ahmed 133, 135, 137-139, 140, 141, 149
Barudi, ‘Alimjan 124
Baruji, Sibghatullah 70, 72
al-Barzani, ‘Abd al-Rahman 105
al-Barzani, Ahmad 105
al-Barzani, Mustafa 86, 105
al-Barzinji, Ma‘ruf 88
al-Basri, Hasan 23
al-Baytar, ‘Abd al-Razzaq 143
Behcet, Ali 74, 77
Bekkine, Abdulaziz 152, 153
Bektashiyya 12, 20, 89
bid’a (unlawful innovation) 20, 124
Birgevi, Mehmed 133, 134, 135
al-Biruni Institute xiv, 15
al-Bistami, Bayazid 24, 59
Bosnevi, Osman 134, 135
Bosnia 78, 94
Bukhara viii, xii, 2, 14-16, 18-22, 24, 25, 27, 30, 31, 32, 34, 35, 40, 41, 43, 47, 51, 68, 71, 73, 78, 79, 81, 91, 107, 123, 133, 139, 146, 148, 159, 163
Bukhari, Ahmad 45-47, 76
Bukhari, Habibullah 68, 78, 80, 123
al-Bukhari, Murad 68, 73-76, 78, 135
al-Bukhari, Rashid 97
Bukhari Hindi, Ishaq 46
Bursa 45, 46, 77
Bursali, Mehmed Amin 74, 77
Cairo viii, 2, 7, 94, 98, 100, 103, 110,
- 122, 133
Caucasus xii, 1, 93, 105-109, 122, 125-126
Central Asia xii, xiv, 1, 2, 12, 14-44, 49-54, 61, 67, 68, 69, 76-77, 78-81, 113, 118, 122, 123, 125, 126-127, 133, 139, 148, 159, 163
Charkhi, Ya'qub 14, 18, 27, 29-32,
35
Chechnia 4, 11, 86, 105, 107-109, 113, 123, 125, 126
China ix, xiii 11, 34, 44, 68, 81-84, 87, 113, 114, 118, 127-131, 170
Chirkeevski, Sayyid Effendi 126
Chishtiyya 12, 51, 53, 56, 58, 63, 65, 63,
- 79, 114, 121, 136, 138, 164
Chodkiewicz, Michel 29
Chusti, Lutfullah 40, 42, 43
Cosan, Esad 153-154
Cosan, Nuruddin 154
Daghestan 86, 103, 105, 107-109, 113, 123, 125, 126
al-Daghestani, ‘Abdullah Fa’iz 166
al-Daghestani, Yahya 99
Dahbid viii, 34, 40, 42, 79
Dahbidi lineage 69, 73, 76, 78, 79
Dahbidi, Muhammad Amin 79, 80,
81
Dahbidi, Musa Khan 68, 78, 80
Damascus ix, 47, 68, 73-76, 85-89, 91,
- 96, 97, 104, 139, 143, 144, 160, 166
Deccan 52, 63, 113
Delhi viii, ix, 2, 4, 49, 50, 52-54, 56, 61-63, 66, 67, 88, 94, 98, 113-120, 133, 135-140, 151
Denizolgun, Ahmad Arif 160
Deobandi schools 130, 138
DeWeese, Devin 21
Digbi, Simon 53
dhikr (constant recollection of God) viii, 1, 4, 5, 7, 10, 13, 14, 16, 20, 21, 24, 25, 27-30, 34, 39, 42, 46, 47, 60, 79, 81, 82, 85, 90, 93, 94, 101, 103, 107, 111, 112, 118, 120, 121, 123, 125, 127, 128, 131, 134, 144, 147, 152, 155, 159, 167, 170
dhikr-i arra 42
Dihlawi, ‘Abdulhaqq 61
al-Dimyati, Ahmad 98
Diya’ al-Din, Umar 95, 100, 103
Dukci Ishan, Muhammad ‘Ali 127, 129
Durrani, Ahmad Shah 31
Egypt 8, 86, 87, 93, 94, 96, 98, 100, 101, 109, 142, 144, 148, 149, 162, 164
al-Enderi, Tashou 106
England see Great Britain
Erbakan, Necmettin 153, 154, 159
Erol, Mehmed Resid 156, 163
Faghnawi, Mahmud Anjir 17, 25, 27, 46
fana’ (annihilation in God) 4, 59, 60
Farmadi, Abu ‘Ali 23, 25
al-Faruqi, Abu al-Hasan Zayd 115, 119, 120
al-Faruqi, Abu al-Nasr Anas 115, 120
al-Faruqi, Muhammad Ma’sum 76
Fazl Ahmad, Miyan 79, 80
Ferghana valley 41-44, 49, 51, 79, 126,
- 130, 148, 163
Feyzullah Effendi 135
Fletcher, Joseph 128
Friedman, Yohanan 59, 62
Fusfeld, Warren 116
Gaborieau, Marc 139
Ganj Muradabadi, Fadlurahman 119, 149
Germany 159-160, 170
ghalq al-bab (closing the door during dhikr) 90
al-Ghazali, Abu Hamid xii, 4, 8, 25, 29
al-Ghazali, Ahmad 25
Ghazi Muhammad 106, 108
al-Ghazi Ghumuqi, Jamal al-Din 105,
- 107, 108
al-Ghazzi family 88
al-Ghazzi, Bashir 143
al-Ghazzi, Kamel 143
Ghijduwani, ‘Abdulkhaliq 1, 2, 5, 10, 14-17, 19-22, 24, 25, 27
Ghiznawi, Ahmad 104, 156
Ghulam ‘Ali (‘Abdallah Dihlawi) 5, 50, 63, 66-67, 85, 88, 91, 92, 99, 113, 114, 140, 141, 151
Glastonbury 170
Globalization 3, 147, 166, 167
Golden Sufi Center 148, 170
Great Britain 119, 121, 148, 170, 171
Gulen, Fethullah (Hocaeffendi) 148, 159
Gumushanevi, Ahmed Ziya’uddin 85, 92, 93, 96-98, 113, 124, 152, 153
Haar, Johan G.J. ter 59
Hadrat, ‘Abdurrahman 129
hadith 8, 13, 22, 32, 50, 61, 66, 69, 70, 85, 93, 97, 114, 133, 135, 136, 137, 139, 153
hajj (pilgrimage) 15, 30, 31, 41, 45, 46, 56, 62, 69, 70, 71, 74, 75, 76, 83, 88, 109, 114, 124, 125, 138, 139
al-Hallaj, Husayn ibn Mansur 59
Hama 96, 162, 163
al-Hamadani, Yusuf 14, 19-20, 21, 23, 25
Hamdi, Khalil 99
al-Hamid, Muhammad 162
Hamza, amir 21, 22
Hamza Bek 106, 108
haqiqa (divine/truth) 3
al-Haqqani, Nazim ‘Adil viii, 2, 3, 149, 166-170
Haqqaniyya 149, 166
Haramayn (holy places in Hijaz) 11, 68, 69, 71, 73, 86, 88, 98, 113, 124, 136, 165
al-Hasani, ‘Abd al-Hayy 50, 62, 65, 149
Hawwa, Sa‘id 162
Haydar, Amir 79, 139
Haydari family 88, 95
Hekim Celebi 45, 46
Herat 11, 15, 18, 22, 30, 31, 32, 35, 37, 38, 41, 46, 47, 121
Hijaz 45, 46, 54, 62, 69, 71, 74, 86, 94, 97, 98, 100, 136, 165
Hilmi, Khalil 99
al-Hindi, Badr al-Din 71, 72
al-Hinduan, Muhsin ‘Ali 166
Homs 96, 162
Hourani, Albert 144
al-Hujwiri, ‘Ali 29
Hurgronje, Snouck 98, 112
Husamuddin Ahmad 54
Husayn ibn ‘Ali 23, 65
Huseyni, Abdulhakim 156
Hyderabad ix, 53, 113-115
Ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhab, Muhammad 133, 139
Ibn ‘Abidin, Muhammad Amin 3
Ibn ‘Arabi, Muhyi al-Din (al-shaykh al-akbar) 4, 6, 8, 11, 18, 29-31, 33, 39, 46, 54, 56, 59, 70, 75, 93, 96, 134, 135, 143, 152
Ibn Farid 6
Ibn Idris, Ahmad 8, 87
Ibn Jirjis, Da’ud ibn Sulayman 95, 97, 143
Ibn Taymiyya, Ahmad 8, 139, 142, 144
Ibn al-‘Ujaymi, Muhammad Hasan 69, 72
Ibrahim, Juda 98, 101
Ibrahimjan of Kokand 163
Ijtihad 97, 133, 137, 142, 143
Ilahadad 54, 61
Ilahi, ‘Abdullah 45, 46, 78
Imadullah, Hajji 138
‘Inayatullah Khan viii, 115, 117, 118
‘Inayati, ‘Ubaydullah 115, 118
India xii, xiv, 1, 2, 7, 8, 10, 12, 13, 30, 34, 44, 49, 67, 69-71, 74, 85, 88, 113, 121, 133, 135-139, 140-142, 144, 147, 149-151, 167, 170
Indonesia xiii, 1, 12, 86, 94, 97, 98, 109-112, 124, 148, 165-166, 170
Iran 6, 7, 15, 19-22, 24, 25, 30, 38, 44, 46, 51, 69, 85, 101, 103-105, 108, 159
Iraq 6, 74, 85, 86, 88, 93-97, 101-105, 143, 148
Irbili, Mehmed As‘ad 93, 94, 152
Irshad Husayn 115, 116, 119
Ishaq Wali 47-48, 52, 81
Ishaqiyya 48, 52, 81, 82, 128
‘Ishqiyya 38, 41
Isiq, Huseyn Hilmi 152
Isiqji movement 152
Iskenderpasa mosque viii, 153, 154, 155, 166
Islamic Fundamentalism 6-7, 8, 9, 12, 85, 86, 94, 95, 97, 118, 132, 133, 139-146, 147, 149, 156, 161, 167, 169
Islamic Modernism 132, 133, 139-146, 147, 158, 165
Isnici, Mehmed Ali 94
Istanbul viii, ix, xi, 13, 44-47, 68, 69, 73-79, 85, 87-94, 97, 103, 104, 109, 113, 124, 133-135, 139, 142, 147, 152-155, 157, 159, 160, 166
jadhba (attraction by God) 4, 60, 81
Jadidism 1, 123, 124, 133, 146
Ja‘far al-Sadiq 24
Jahriyya (New Teaching) 114, 128, 129, 131
Jakup, shaykh 94
Jalaludin of Bukittinggi 165
Jalaludin of Changking 110, 165
Jama‘at ‘Ali 113, 119, 162
Jamalzadeh, Muhammad 45
Jami, ‘Abdurrahman 11, 15, 20, 30, 31-33, 41, 46, 69, 70
Jan, Muhammad 91, 92, 98, 99, 113
Jan, Muhammad (Volga region) 123
Jan-i Janan, Mazhar ix, 50, 63, 65, 66, 78, 135, 138, 151
al-Jaza’iri, ‘Abd al-Qadir 96, 143
Jerusalem 47, 73, 97
Jihad 103, 105, 122, 123, 125, 127, 129,
133, 135, 137-139, 140, 156, 161, 164
al-Jilani, ‘Abd al-Qadir 103, 156, 158
al-Junayd 23, 24
al-Jurjani, Sayyid Sharif 30-31
Juryani, Ahmad Jarullah (Yakdast) 68, 71, 72, 73, 74, 76, 77
al-Juybari, Muhammad Islam 34, 40, 42, 43, 45, 47, 51, 52, 56
Juybaris 34, 47, 51, 52, 56
al-Kabbani, Hisham 167, 169
Kafar, Kemal 159
Kadirun, Yahya 166
Kadizade, Mehmed 134
Kadizadeli movement 133, 134-135
kalimat-i qudsiyya (sacred words) 10, 14, 16, 27
al-Karkhi, Ma’ruf 23
Kasani, Ahmad 34, 40-44, see also Makhdum-i A‘zam
Kashghari lodge 74, 76-77, 91, 152
Kashghari, S‘aduddin viii, 31-33, 46, 47, 76
Kashmir 52, 53, 78, 82, 122, 144
Kataki family 47
Kataki, Tajuddin 47
al-Kawakibi, ‘Abd al-Rahman 7-9, 143, 144
Kawakibizadeh, Mehmed 45
Kazakhstan 113, 122, 124, 125, 126, 163
Kemal, Namik 142
Khalaf, Abu al-Nasr 162
Khalid, Diya’ al-Din (al-Shahrizuri al-Baghdadi) 2, 5, 10, 55, 67, 85-97, 99, 101-107, 110, 114, 143, 158
Khalil Ata 15
khalwa (seclusion) 2, 4, 10, 28, 85, 89
khalwat dar anjuman (solitude in the
crowd) 1, 11, 25, 28, 30, 34, 159
Khalwatiyya xii, 8, 45, 87, 109, 134
Khamush, Nizamuddin 31, 32
Al-Khani family 87, 143
al-Khani, ‘Abd al-Majid 86-87, 96
al-Khani, Muhammad 28, 86, 87, 96, 143
al-Khani, Muhammad the younger 96-97
khanqah (Per. Sufi lodge) 6, 21, 117
al-Kharaqani, Abu al-Hasan viii, 24, 26
Khass Muhammad 106, 107
Khatib, Ahmad 112
khatm al-Khwajagan (concluding prayer of the dhikr) 5, 29, 90, 91
Khatmiyya 73
Khawand, Mahmud 52, 54
Khazini, Shaykh 46
al-Khidr 19-20, 25
Khudayar 80
Khufiyya (Old Teaching) 114, 128, 129, 131
Khurasan 17, 18, 24, 30, 31, 36
Khurd, Khwaja (‘Abdallah) 54, 55, 136
Khwafi, Muhammad Husayn 69, 72
Khwajagan (Great Masters) ix, xv, 1, 5, 14, 15, 17-25, 27, 29, 30, 33, 34, 35, 40-42, 44, 47, 60, 144
Khwarazm 18, 21, 79, 81
Kisakurek, Necip Fazil 152
al-Kishmi al-Badakhshani, Muhammad
Hashim 56
Kokand 79, 127, 128, 163
Konya 78, 155, 156
Kotku, Mehmed Zahid 147, 152, 153
Kubrawiyya 12, 40, 43, 47, 123
Kuftaru, Ahmad viii, 148, 160, 161, 163, 166
Kuftaru, Salah al-Din 160
Kulal, Amir 15, 16, 17, 21, 22, 25, 44
al-Kurani, Ibrahim 12, 70, 71, 72, 73,
109, 128, 136
al-Kurani, Muhammad Abu Tahir 73, 136, 139
al-Kurdemiri, Isma‘il see al-Shirvani, Isma‘il
al-Kurdi, ‘Isa 86, 97, 104, 160
al-Kurdi, Muhammad Amin viii, 5, 100, 101, 103, 110
Kurdistan 12, 45, 86, 88, 93, 94, 101-105
Kursavi, Abunasir 123, 133, 139, 146
Kuzakunani, Sun‘ullah 46
Lahor 52, 53
Lami‘i, Mamud Celebi 46
Lata’if (subtle centers of the body) 112, 151
Lebanon 166, 168
Linxia viii, 83, 84, 131
London 167
Lucknow 12, 66, 149-150, 151
Ma Hualong 128, 129, 130
Ma Jinxi 129, 130, 131
Ma Laichi, Abu al-Futuh 83, 84, 129, 131
Ma Mingxin, Muhammad 69, 114, 128, 129
Ma Tai Baba 83
Ma Yuanzhang 129, 131
Ma Zhenwu 129, 131
Macedonia 94
Madelung, Wilferd 25
Mahmud, Baba Shah 53
Mahmud Celebi 45, 46
Makhdum-i A‘zam viii, 34, 40-43, 44,
47, 51, 52, 56, 68, 78, 81, 82
see also Kasani, Ahmad
Makhdumzade lineage (Khojas) 34, 44, 47, 48, 56, 68, 81-82, 127
al-Makki, Muhammad ‘Aqila 83, 131
Malamatiyya 24-25, 28, 30, 43, 46, 60, 96
Malaysia 145, 165
al-Manar 133, 134, 144, 145
Mangit Dynasty 79, 81
Mansour, Shaykh 105, 107
al-Manzilawi, Muhammad Murad 98, 99
Marjani, Shihabuddin 133, 146
Ma’sum, Muhammad 61, 62, 64, 68, 71, 73, 74, 76, 78, 109, 121, 136
mawlid (birthday of prophets and saints) 101, 144
Mazhar, Muhammad 99
Mazhariyya (Shamsiyya-Mazhariyya)
63, 109, 110, 116, 166
Mecca xi, 24, 69, 70, 71, 73, 76, 78, 83, 91, 94, 97, 98, 104, 109, 110, 112, 131, 14, 165
Medina 12, 24, 62, 70, 71, 94, 98, 109, 116, 117, 128, 136, 139, 159
Meier, Fritz 29
Mejli, Baba Muhammad 78
Metcalf, Barbara 137
Mevleviyya 4, 76, 77, 144, 170
Middle East xii, xv, 121, 147, 149, 167
Minangkabawi, Isma‘il 86, 110, 112
Mir Dard 50, 63, 133, 135-136, 138, 140 al-Mirghani, Muhammad ‘Uthman 73
Miskin shah 114, 115
Miyan family 79
Miyan, Fazl Ahmad 79
al-Mizjaji family 70, 72
al-Mizjaji, ‘Abd al-Baqi 70
al-Mizjaji, ‘Abd al-Khaliq 128
Modernity 2, 3, 67, 94, 96, 97, 132, 147,
157, 159, 170
Mohan Lal, Brja 151
Mongiri, Muhammad ‘Ali 149
Muda Wali 166
Mughal Empire 2, 49-52, 55, 62, 63
Muhammad Amin 108
Muhammad Hadi 112
Muhammad Isma‘il 137, 138
Muhammad khan 48
Muhammad Nasir 140
Muhammad Safar 80
Muhammad Sa‘id 86, 95-96
Muhammad Sa‘id (Sirhindi) 62, 64
Muhammad Yusuf 82, 83
Muhammad Yusuf Raja 110
Muhammadiyya movement 165
Mujaddidi family 61, 63, 73, 88, 113, 114, 117, 121, 122, 164
Mujaddidi, Fazl Ahmad 79
Mujaddidi, Fazl Muhammad 122
Mujaddidi, Fazl ‘Umar 122, 164
Mujaddidi, Muhammad Ibrahim 122
Mujaddidi, Sibghatullah 148, 164-165
Murad, Shah 79
Muradi family 73, 74-76
al-Muradi, ‘Ali 75, 139
al-Muradi, Husayn 76, 88
al-Muradi, Muhammad 75
al-Muradi, Muhammad Khalil 69, 71, 74, 75-76
Musa Kazim 93, 157
Musafir, Baba Shah Muhammad 52-54
al-Mushahidi, ‘Abd al-Ghafur 95
Muslim Brothers 147, 148, 162, 164, 166
al-Nabulusi, ‘Abd al-Ghani 73, 75
Nadwat al-Ulama (Ulama Council) -
India viii, 1, 138, 147, 149, 150, 165, 166
Nadwat al-Ulama - Indonesia 165
al-Nadwi, Abu al-Hasan ‘Ali 147, 149-151, 161
Najmuddin of Hotso 126
Nasirabadi, Abu al-Hasan 151
Nava’i, ‘Ali Shir 15, 31, 32, 33, 46
New Age 148, 166, 170
Nida’i, ‘Abdullah 76, 91
Ni‘matullahiyya 6
Niyazquli, Muhammad (Pir-i Dastgir) 80, 81, 123, 139, 146
North America xii, 1, 167
Numanagic, Husni 94
Nur Muzaffar Husayn 114, 115
Nurcu movement 12, 148, 156, 158, 159
Nursi, Bediuzaman Sa‘id 2, 3, 148, 156-159
Orientalism 6, 8
Ostaosmanoglu, Mahmud 155
Ottoman Empire xv, 1, 2, 8, 11, 12, 30, 44, 50, 68, 69, 73-78, 81, 85-87, 89, 90-94, 107, 108, 133, 134, 139, 142, 147
Ozal, Turgut 153
Pakistan 49, 55, 118, 119, 120-121,
122, 136, 163, 164
Palangposh, Baba Muhammad Sa‘id 52, 53
Pan-Islam 85
Panchakki shrine viii, 53, 54
Panipati, Thana’ullah 66
Parsa (al-Hafizi, Shams al-Din
Muhammad) 14, 15, 18, 19, 27, 29-32, 41, 69
Parsa, Abu al-Nasr 31, 32
Parsa, Husamuddin 35
Paul, Jurgen 21, 35
Persia xiii, 6, 7, 38, 66, 74, 102, 136, 137
Punjab 50, 56, 62, 63, 66, 70, 113, 114, 118, 119, 136, 138
Qadiriyya 6, 12, 51, 53, 56, 58, 63, 79, 83, 86, 88, 94, 101, 102, 103, 109, 112, 114, 119, 121, 123, 125, 126, 127, 131, 136, 138, 152, 164
Qalan, Khwaja (‘Ubaydullah) 54, 55
Qalandars (wandering dervishes) 34, 52, 53, 76
Qamruddin of Namangan 130
Qari, Ayyub 130, 131
al-Qasimi, Jamal al-Din 143
Qasr ‘Arifan/ Qasr Hinduwan viii, 15, 16, 21, 41
Qazi, Muhammad 35, 39, 41-43
al-Qirimi, Sulayman 99
al-Quduqli, Muhammad 106, 107
Qurban ‘Ali 163
al-Qushashi, Ahmad Safi al-Din 12, 70, 71, 72
al-Qushayri, Abu al-Qasim 25, 29
rabita (binding the heart) 2, 10, 29, 30,
39, 60, 66, 85, 89-90, 107, 142, 143, 145, 167
Ramazanov, Tajuddin 126
Ramitani, ‘Ali ‘Azizan-i 17, 21, 27
Rampur viii, ix, 63, 114, 115, 117-119
Rashidin, Khoja 129
Rasulev, ‘Abdulrahman 125
Rasulev, Zaynullah 113, 124, 125
Rida, Muhammad Rashid viii, 2, 3, 133, 144-145
Riwgari, ‘Arif 17, 27
Rifa‘iyya 6
Rokan, Abdulwahhab 86, 111
Rumi, Jalal al-din 4, 6, 30, 46, 77, 78
Russia 1, 11, 81, 86, 97, 103, 105,
107-109, 113, 118, 122-127, 130, 133,
139, 146, 157, 163
Sa‘dullah, shah 114, 115
safar dar watan (traveling in the home)
25, 28, 30
Safavids 24, 44, 46, 51, 101, 102
al-Sahib, As‘ad 96, 97, 121, 140, 143
al-Sahib, Mahmud 96
Said of Palu (Shaykh Said revolt) 86,
101, 104, 151, 157
Saifuddin (Sirhindi) 62, 64
Saksena, Ramchandra 151
Salafiyya 7, 12, 85, 87, 95, 96, 97, 114,
133, 142-144, 146, 161, 165
Salman al-Farisi 23, 24
sam‘a (musical session) 54, 136
Samarqand viii, 15, 22, 25, 32, 33, 34-41,
51, 53, 74, 79
Sammasi, Muhammad 15, 17, 21, 22
Sarajevo 78, 94
Sayfurahman, Akhundzada 164
Schlegell, Barbara von 74
Sha‘ban Efendi 45, 134
Shadhiliyya xii, 6, 8, 131
Shahrawani, Isma‘il 69
Shamil, Imam 86, 106, 108-109, 125,
126, 166
shari‘a xii, 2, 3, 5, 8, 11, 16, 30, 34, 39, 42, 49, 54, 55, 58-60, 65, 77, 79, 81, 87, 89, 90, 91, 93, 97, 107, 108, 109, 110, 117,
121, 125, 126, 134, 135, 138, 139, 143, 161, 164, 169
Shattariyya 51, 70, 109, 110
Shi‘a 6, 7, 24, 44, 46, 52, 56, 61, 63-64, 66, 67, 79, 94, 95, 104, 107, 116, 136, 137
al-Shinnawi, Ahmad 70, 72
al-Shirvani, Isma‘il 90, 105, 106, 107, 108
Shor Bazar, Hazrat see Mujaddidi family
Shumnulu, ‘Ali 92
Siberia 107, 113, 123, 125, 126, 144
Siddiq Hasan Khan 141, 142, 143
silsila (spiritual chain) 10, 12, 13, 22, 35
al-Sindhi, Muhammad Hayah 139, 144
Singapore 110, 145
al-Singkili, ‘Abd al-Ra’uf 109 al-Sinnari, Isma‘il 100, 101 Siraj al-Din, ‘Uthman 102, 103
Sirhindi, Ahmad viii, xv, 1, 2, 10, 44, 49, 50, 52, 54-63, 65, 66, 68-71, 73, 74, 76, 79, 87, 89, 94, 98, 109, 113, 114, 117, 120, 121, 135, 136, 138, 149, 152, 157-159, 162
Sirhindi, Badr al-Din 56
Sirri Baba, ‘Abdurrahman 78
Soviet Union xiv, 15, 122, 125, 126, 148, 156, 163
Subud movement 148, 170-171
suhba (accompanying the master) 1, 10, 20, 29, 30, 36, 39, 60, 107, 152
Suhrawardiyya 63
al-Sulaymani, Ahmad 91, 142
Sulaymaniyya 85, 88, 103, 105, 142
Sulayman^i movement 148, 159-160 suluk (following the path) 4, 9, 60, 81
Sumatra viii, 109-112, 165, 166
Sumohadiwidjojo, Muhammad (Bapak) 170-171
Sunami, Muhammad ‘Abid 63, 64, 78
al-Susi, ‘Abd al-Wahhab 90, 92
Syria 11, 68, 73, 85, 86, 101, 142, 148, 160-163, 166, 167
Taha of Nehri 103, 105
Tajikistan 163, 164
Taliban 164, 165
Tanzimat reforms 85, 93, 95, 109, 133, 142
Tarim basin (Altishahr) 44, 47, 48, 81-83, 113
tariqa (path/brotherhood) xiii, 3, 5, 7,
9-13, 49, 57, 58, 76, 81, 87, 107, 117, 152, 158, 163, 164, 165, 167
Tariqa Muhammadiyya (Prophetic Way)
134, 135-136, 138
Tariqat Islam party 165
tasawwur-i shaykh (visualization of the
spiritual master) 140
Tashkent xiv, 15, 35, 36, 38, 39-41, 43,
113, 127, 148, 163
Taskandi, Ahmed Sadiq 45, 47, 69
tawajjuh (spiritual direction) 24, 29, 52,
60, 145, 151
tekke (Turk. Sufi lodge) viii, 6, 45, 47, 72, 153
Thaqibiyya 130
Tian Wu 128
Tibet 52, 81, 82
Tirevi, Ahmed 134
al-Tirmidhi, al-Hakim 24
al-Tizkili, Ahmad 96
Trabzuni, Mehmed Ma’ruf 134
Transoxiana ix, 15, 17, 19, 25, 31, 34, 35,
40, 41, 43, 44, 46, 47, 51, 53, 61, 68, 73, 78-82, 123, 124
Trimingham, J. Spencer 6-8
Tunahan, Sulayman Hilmi 159, 160
Turkey xiii, 1, 2, 6, 34, 87, 101, 102,
104, 147, 148, 151-156, 163, 166, 169, 170
Turkistan ix, 1, 34, 36, 41, 44, 47, 51, 52,
68, 81, 82, 127-130
Tukadi (Tukatli), Mehmed Amin 74,
76
Tweedie, Irina 170
‘Ubaydullah of Andijan 130
‘Ubaydullah of Nehri 101, 103-104
ulama (religious scholars) 4, 58, 71, 76,
88, 89, 90, 109, 110, 122, 130, 135, 136, 142, 144, 149, 164, 165
United States 119, 121, 148, 166, 167, 169, 170
al-Urwadi, Sulayman 92, 93, 96
Ustaosmanoglu, Mahmud 155
al-Uskudari, Isma‘il 73, 139
al-‘Uthmani, Tajuddin 54, 55, 61, 68, 69,
70, 72, 73, 98, 109, 128
Uwaysi 16, 24
al-Uzbeki, Muhammad 71
Uzbekistan xiii, xiv, 15, 30, 123, 148,
163
Vahdati, Muhammad ‘Abd al-Rashid
53
Vaisi movement 113, 123
Vaisi, Baha’uddin 123, 124
Vaisi, ‘Inanuddin 124
Van Bruinessen, Martin 112
Vaughan-Lee, Llewellyn 170
Virdi, Khwaja 125
Volga region 81, 113, 122, 123-125, 126,
139
Voll, John 139
wahdat al-shuhud (unity of
perception) 49, 59, 65, 66, 137
wahdat al-wujud (unity of being) 29, 46,
59, 65, 93, 137
Wahhabiyya 8, 88, 89, 95, 98, 114, 119, 126, 130, 133, 138, 139, 143, 169
Al-Waizi al-Kashifi, ‘Ali 35
Waliullah, Shah 2, 3, 50, 66, 114, 133,
135, 136-137, 140, 141
Warith Deen Muhammad 160
Washington DC 167
Western Europe xii, 1, 121, 156, 159, 166, 171
Women 61, 63, 167, 170
Xinjiang 47, 83, 113, 127-129
Yahya, Qadirun 166
Yanyali, Mustafa Ismet 92
al-Yaraghi, Muhammad 105, 106, 107
al-Yarkandi, Ziyauddin see Qari, Ayyub
al-Yasawi, Ahmad 14, 20, 21, 36, 42
Yasawiyya 12, 14, 20, 21, 34, 40, 47, 123,
128
Yavuz, Hakan 152, 154, 157
Yemen 70, 109, 128, 139
Young Ottomans 133, 142
Yusuf Muhammad 82, 83,
Yusuf Muhammad, Raja 110
Yusuf of Makassar 109
Zarcone, Thierry 152
al-Zawawi, Muhammad Salih 98, 99,
110, 112
zawiya (Ara. Sufi lodge) 6, 7, 73
Zindapir 121, 164
Ziya’uddin Ahmed 45, 47
al-Zuhdi, Sulayman 99, 110, 111, 112,
165
Zukic, Husein Baba 78
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