Panel 2: Sufism in Eurasia
Dr. Alan Godlas, Department of Religion, University of Georgia Dr. Mohammad Faghfoory, Department of Religion, George Washington University Dr. Charles Fairbanks, Director, Central Asia-Caucasus Institute, Johns Hopkins University Alex Alexiev, Senior Fellow, Center for Security Policy
Dr. Alan Godlas, Department of Religion, University of Georgia Godlas addressed the loss of the collective memory of Sufism in Central Asia— especially in Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan—during the period of Soviet rule. He argued that the US can support the preservation of this collective memory by supporting indigenous revivals, but this must be done differently in each country.
Unquestionably, throughout Islamic history one of the primary centers of Sufism has been Central Asia. Yet for nearly 80 years the Soviets so thoroughly repressed Sufism in the region that it is largely unknown today. The mechanisms by which this repression was carried out are broadly comparable to the tactics of the Wahhabis. Sufi religious leaders were often killed, and the madrassahs in which they transmitted knowledge were closed. Sufi texts were banned, and religious scholars who attempted to research them were considered as backward and, worse, as “enemies of the Soviet people.” As a result, studies in Central Asian Sufi texts and culture were avoided by Soviet scholars of religion who were concerned with their lives and careers. Exceptions were made only when they could recast certain Sufis as “proto-Marxists” struggling against feudalism. One of the major problems today in the research of Sufism in Central Asia is that Soviet-era academic work portrayed Sufism in this limited and inadequate fashion. As a result, Godlas contended, the recent history of Sufism in Central Asia is little known, both to Western scholars as well to the people of Central Asia themselves. Since Sufism was largely absent in the collective memory of Central Asian Muslims, after the collapse of the USSR this gap in culture and identity was filled by extremist Muslims of the Wahhabi, Salafi, and Maududi sects.
Fortunately, some Central Asian countries have realized how important the recovery of Sufi culture is for their societies. In Uzbekistan, there has been an increase in the publishing of works about Sufis such as Baha ud-din Naqshband and Najmuddin Kubra. Most recently in 2004, the state has supported the publishing of an important masterpiece of Central Asian Sufi literature, translating into modern Uzbek Alisher Nava'i's The Language of the Birds. There has
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even been a governmental public educational attempt to combine the Western concept of “civil society” with recast elements of Sufism. For instance, in Uzbekistan, in 1994 a ministry called the “Public Center for Spirituality and Enlightenment” was established, but instead of the original meaning of maneviyat (spirituality) and ma'rifat (direct knowledge gained through spiritual experience), these terms were portrayed in secular senses, i.e., “reaching one’s full potential” and “participating fully in civil society.” While far from being an institutional revival of traditional Uzbek Sufi culture, such moves can nevertheless be seen as a non-Wahhabi step beyond its Marxist past, containing at least the seeds for a marriage of traditional Uzbek Sufi values with those of a "civil society."
Godlas suggested that another component of any reconstruction of Sufi identity in Uzbekistan must be the support of its traditional Naqshbandi Sufism in particular. This tradition already has a foothold in the country: the largest madrassah in Central Asia is led by a Naqshbandi, as is the state committee for religious studies. Additionally, near the city of Kokand there is a shaykh currently exemplifying and teaching classical Naqshbandi values. Soviet era scholars tended to highlight Sufi militant activity and in official circles there still appears to be a degree of fear of religious activity. However, he said, it seems that Naqshbandi culture in particular and Sufism in general is being seen by at least some in the Uzbek government as supportive of social change through gradual cultural reeducation, rather than through militant Wahhabi revolution or Taliban-style forcible imposition of religious values. Although it is unlikely that Uzbek Sufis would welcome foreign assistance (the dangers of such collaboration being well known), in the very least the US can encourage governmental openness to the reemergence of Naqshbandi Sufism.
In addition to revivals of traditional Central Asian Sufi values in public educational institutions, publishing, and Naqshbandi Sufism, another cultural revival of Sufi values— throughout Central Asia—is through shrine visitation. Referring to David Tyson’s article entitled, “Shrine Pilgrimage in Turkmenistan,” Godlas underlined the importance of shrine visitation and its connection with Turkmen tribal identity. Under the Soviets, however, the Sufi cultural and historical connections to the shrines—particularly in Turkmenistan—were often lost, creating a cultural void. The significance of Sufi shrine visitation, however, is by no means unique to Turkmen identity; it also plays an important role—to varying degrees—in the identity of Kazakhs, Uzbeks, Afghans, and Tajiks. To some degree a cultural revival connected with the shrine of Baha al-din Naqhsband in Bukhara is already in progress; but what has been done is just a fraction of what is possible. By publishing translations of Sufi or Sufi-related workes into local languages as well as English (such as has been done with the Ahmet Yesevi in Kazakhstan), this cultural void can be partially filled, thereby assisting each country in the revival of its own traditional Sufi identity and its integration with a contemporary national identity.
In short, Godlas stated, as Central Asian countries reconstruct their identities and move away from both Marxist and Wahhabi identities, the US would do well to support each country's own attempts to revive its local Sufi identity and integrate it with each national identity, through 1) encouraging the publishing of works about local Sufis and of translations of the classical Sufi texts (by local Sufis) in both modern local languages and in English (given the popularity and significance of English for the youth, in particular); 2) encouraging the integration of Sufi values
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with those of civil society in educational institutions; 3) advising various Central Asian nations to adopt an attitude of openness toward Naqshbandi revival in particular; and 4) encouraging Sufi cultural and literary revivals specifically in conjunction with the existing traditions of shrine visitation in each country. Recently, in a completely different region of the world that has nevertheless suffered from Wahhabi inroads, in Morocco, Godlas learned through conversations with Moroccan officials that a similar program of intentionally reviving traditional local Sufism—albeit without US assistance—is being implemented.
In the end, he said, Wahhabi versus Sufi Islam is indeed in a genuine battle over who will define and lead Islam in Central Asia and throughout the world. If the United States takes a proactive stance in supporting the revival of Central Asian Sufism, it may be able to move the region out of the hands of militants towards a more irenic future.
Dr. Mohammad H. Faghfoory, Department of Religion, The George Washington University Faghfoory focused his presentation on Persia, which has long had a close connection with Sufism, as evidenced by Persian spiritual practices and reflected in Persian literature. Salman Farsi, the first Persian convert to Islam and a close companion of the Prophet, symbolizes the Persian soul’s curiosity and love of the truth. Many important Sufi orders including the largest Sunni tariqah-i mubarakah-i Naqshbandiyah grew within a Persian cultural framework and was enriched by such poets as Abd al-Rahman Jami. Another order, the Nimatullahi order that grew in the Shi’i Persia has been popular for many centuries in Iran. Sufism has also given birth to popular practices like A’yin-i futuwwat/Javanmardi (spiritual chivalry) and Pahlavani and institutions such as the bazaar guild.
Although the history of Sufism in Persia is marked by occasional conflicts between Sufi orders and the Shi’ite clergy, in general the relationship between the two groups has often been non-violent. Often both sides tolerated or ignored one another. After the victory of the Islamic revolution in 1979, said Faghfoory, the age-old tension and conflict between arif and alim (that is, between Sufis and orthodox clergy) came to the fore once again. There were reported threats against khaniqahs, or Sufi meeting-houses, some of which were in fact attacked by the mobs. Their activities were restricted by the anti-Sufi atmosphere promoted by low-ranking members of the clergy. The leadership of most orders left Iran for Europe and the United States and advised their disciples to keep a low profile for their safety and security.
Despite all this, however, because of Sufism’s deep roots, the last decade has witnessed an unprecedented rise in its popularity. One indication has been the publication of a large number of books on Sufism, especially texts that were previously available only to Sufis in the form of manuscripts. To this list, Faghfoory said, should be added translations of many books on Sufism and Islamic spirituality by well-known scholars of Sufism such as Frithjof Schuon, Titus Burkhardt, Martin Lings, and Seyyed Hossein Nasr.
Some scholars have published editions of their works intended for a broader audience. Among them are books such as the biography of Rumi by Abdul-Husayn Zarrinkoob, the treatise on Shams Tabrizi, and the eighth edition of Allamah Tabatabai’s Lubb-i lubab. There also has been a revival of Sufi music as indicated by the popularity of certain musicians such as
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Muhammad Reza Lutfi, Shahram Nazeri and Muhammad Rida Shajarian, in addition to the Qawwali music of Nusrat Fath Ali Khan, the recording of the Sama sessions, the videotaping of the majalis and the music of Mevlevi and Khawati-Jarrahi orders.
Faghfoory then listed several well-known orders active in Iran with branches in Europe and the United States:
1) The Nimatullahi order –Originally a Sunni order that became Shi’a in the sixteenth century. Currently, this order has four main branches. One is derived from Munis Ali Shah Dhur- riyasatayn. Its present Shaykh, Dr. Javad Noorbakhash, resides in London. This branch is very active in publishing books on Sufism.
2) The Kawthariyah order: Hajj Muhammad Hasan Maraghehi, known as Mahbub Ali Shah Pir-i Maraghah, was one of the most prominent and exalted Sufi masters of Iran in the twentieth century and was recognized as the Qutb of the Nimatullahi-Kawthariyah order until he died in 1955. According to one report he left a written will in which he had designated Mr. Ali Asghar Maleknia, his khalifah and trusted disciple, as his successor. Those who joined him became collectively known as the Nimatullahi Kawthariyah order.
Members of this Shi’a order, explained Faghfoory, observe the shariah and are especially punctilious in commemorating the birthdays of the Prophet and Imam Ali ibn Abi Talib and other important Shi’i events. In terms of ethnicity and class composition, it is interesting to note that the order is predominantly composed of Azerbaijanis of both traditional and modern middle classes. The main khaniqah of this order is in the city of Rayy outside Tehran but it has deep roots in Azerbaijan where a khaniqah is maintained in the city of Maraghah. Mr. Maleknia (whose tariqah name was Nasir Ali shah) passed away in 1998 in France. His body was taken to Iran and buried in his khaniqah in Rayy, next to his master Mahbub Ali Shah.
3) Nimatullahi Gunabadi order: One of this school’s most eminent masters in the twentieth century was Sultan Husayn Tabandeh. He was an orthodox Shi’ah and carefully observed the Shariah.
4) Shamsiyah order: This order was named after Sayyid Husayn Husayni, also known as Shams ul-‘Urafa (1871-1935). His disciples were divided after him.
5) Safi Ali Shahi: This order was also named after its chief figure, Safi Ali Shah Isfahani
6) Dhahabiyah order: this order, as Faghfoory points out, was originally an offshoot of a Central Asian order known as the Kubrawiyah. Its founder Sayyid Ali Hamadani (b. 1314) was a descendent of Imam Sajjad, and a disciple of Ala al-Dawlah Semnani(d. 736/1336). The main center of this order is Fars province in Iran (particularly the city of Shiraz), but it also has a khaniqah in Tehran and another in Tabriz. The Kubrawiyah order itself was established by Shaykh Najm al-Din Kura in the city of Khwarazm., and is particularly known for its resistance to the Mongol invasion of that city in 1221/618. Among the most eminent Shaykhs of this order is Sayyid Muhammad Nurbakhsh (d. 1464/869). Under the latter Shaykh, the order accepted
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Shi’ism. The Oweysi tariqah, known in Iran today as Maktab-i Tariqat-i Oweysi Shahmaqsoodi branched out of the Nurbakhshiyah order.
7) In addition to these and other smaller groups (i.e. Aliullahi) which are Shi’a, there are several Sunni orders in Iran that are closely identified with particular ethnic groups. In Kurdistan, for example, the Naqshbandi and Qadiriyah orders have a considerable number of followers, while in Luristan, the Qadiriyah order has a fairly strong presence.
There are several important and unique aspects that characterize Sufi orders, Faghfoory reiterated, which originated and are still present in Persia/Iran. The most notable aspect is their adherence to Shi’ism (Irfan Shi’i).
The hitherto unknown irfani current, which has not been seriously studied to date, is a strand of Sufism that has existed in secret. It is found mostly among the ulama who reject formal tasswwuf but are attracted to the esoteric teachings of Shi’ite imams, especially Imam Ali, Imam Zayn al-Abidin Sajjad and Imam Ali ibn Musa al-Reza. Faghfoory explained that it possesses all the characteristics of a silsilah, linking master to disciple, but it lacks the formal organization that characterizes the khaniqahi Sufi orders. Instead, its membership is predominantly limited to religious scholars, with the addition of a few dedicated bazaar merchants and religious intellectuals. It involves regular transmission of the power to initiate (wilayah) and spiritual direction. In sum, it has all nearly characteristics of other Sufi orders except the name “Sufi” itself.
This current has been present in the Shi’i learning centers (hawzah) in Qum, Mashhad, Tehran, as well as in Karbala and Najaf, but its presence remains rather hidden. Its methods and disciplines are taught only orally to a highly selected group of individuals who are initiated while studying the major texts of theoretical irfan. Among the most important masters during the last two centuries, Faghfoory mentions Ayatullah Sayyid Mahdi Bahr ul-ulum, Mulla Husayn Quli Hamadani, Shaykh Ahmad Karbalai, Sayyid Ali Qadi Tabatabai Tabrizi, Allamah Sayyid Muhammad Husayn Tabataba’i, Sayyid Hashim Haddad, Muhammad Jawad Ansari, and Allamah Sayyid Muhammad Husayn Husayni Tehrani. All these men were among the most remarkable ulama of Persia and Iraq and respected highly as not only religious scholars, but also as saintly men to whom miracles were often attributed.
Nearly all of the above-mentioned groups have or soon will have had established contacts with counterparts in Central Asian republics, particularly as those orders (turuq) that were forced underground during the period of Soviet occupation begin to come into the open in the newly independent states. If history is to be a guide, said Faghfoory, Iran will thus continue to be a major source of inspiration for the Sufi Muslims of the region.
Central Asia was first conquered by Muslim forces during the caliphate of Mu‘āwiyah. Particularly after the Mongol conquest of Baghdad in 1258, Sufism became the main channel for the spread of Islam in Central Asia. Compared to other Islamic traditions, Sufism spread more rapidly due to its openness to and acceptance of other religions and its clear yet simple emphases on simplicity, piety, and purity. The process continued apace during the Ottoman period (14th- 18th centuries). In fact, Central Asian cities, such as Bukhara and Samarkand, became major
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centers of Islamic scholarship, housing hundreds of madrassahs. The School of Khorasan that emerged, represented by towering figures such as Bayazid Bastami, and Hakim Tirmadhi, Abu Nasr Sarraj, Abu’l-Hasan Kharaqani, and Abd al-Rahman Sulami, found widespread popularity in the Greater Khorasan (i.e., Central Asia).
In Central Asia, as in other regions, Sufism represents the cosmopolitan, intellectual, and spiritual aspects of Islam, which are capable of and willing to engage in discourse with other cultures and religions (especially the other Abrahamic faiths). Sufi history in Central Asia, argued Faghfoory, bears out this point: upon entering the region, it faced a variety of religions and religious traditions ranging from Zoroastrianism to shamanistic animism. Yet Sufism accepted them all as different manifestations of a single Truth, treating them with respect (and earning their respect in turn). Since Sufism spread predominantly by merchants and traveling scholars, it was able to gain access to a ready audience in both urban and rural areas. Once established, it remained nearly unchanged for several centuries. He mentioned that as late as 1988 an observer noted that organized networks of Sufi brotherhoods that have been popular in Central Asia since medieval times continue to exercise considerable influence on the Muslims. Of these, the Naqshbandi order is the most popular, followed by the Qadiriyah, the Khalwatiya, and the Yasawiyah orders.
Despite the defeat of several Muslim uprisings against Tsarist Russia during the nineteenth century, Islam survived in the Russian Empire and later in the USSR due mainly, said Faghfoory, to the strength of Sufi networks, particularly that of the Naqshbandi order. According to 1970 statistics, 500,000 out of 27 million were involved in Sufi brotherhoods. Some of the older Sufi orders including the Qadiris and the Chishtis avoided direct political involvement, but others, especially the Naqshbandi, became involved in Russia’s political life during the latter half of the 19th century.
In general, the organization of the Sufi brotherhoods was highly effective in spreading religious concepts, as well revolution and armed resistance. Throughout these years, Persian remained the main medium of communication (especially in Sufi poetry). Faghfoory believes on the basis of the evidence that this trend will continue and gain new momentum in the years to come. Already in Tajikistan increasing attention is paid to the closely-related Persian language and its poetry, as indicated by new editions of diwans and Sufi texts.
Faghfoory urged the audience to realize that Sufism can play a dual role in the contemporary Muslim world. It can become a constructive part in the political process because, on the one hand, it is capable of “Islamizing” democracy; on the other hand, it is capable of democratizing Islam. It can also contribute to political stability in Iran and Central Asia by bringing about understanding among competing political groups and factions and much-needed tolerance toward other religions, ideas and currents. By virtue of its cosmopolitanism and tolerance, Sufism can also become an important factor in Iran’s relations with the outside world on intellectual, spiritual, cultural, and political levels. Because of the richness of its legacy in Persian-Islamic culture, Persian Sufism can act as a source of inspiration for other Sufi groups and movements beyond Iran’s territories in places such as Tajikistan and Chechnya. In this capacity it can facilitate Iran’s relations with Central Asian republics as well as Afghanistan, particularly with regions such as Bukhara, Samarkand, Heart, and Khawarazm.
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However, Faghfoory cautioned, Sufism in the entire Muslim world today is still the target of attack from two directions. Sufism is criticized by modernist groups because they consider it passive, soft before power, and in conflict with the modern way of life. It is also attacked by the fundamentalist camp on the grounds that it is against Islamic orthodoxy. Sufism considers these two currents as the two sides of the same coin. Because both of these groups—knowingly or unknowingly—are actively engaged in the ideologization of Islam and using Islam as a political ideology to attain their goals.
Dr. Charles Fairbanks, Director, Central Asia-Caucasus Institute, Johns Hopkins University Fairbanks focused his presentation on Sufism in the North and South Caucasus. He argued that in a war against terrorism of a quasi-religious nature, Washington’s secular foreign policy elite starts at a great disadvantage. In addition, though there has been some excellent scholarship done on the roots of terrorism in the Middle East, this work has a certain impress of its historical origins in 18th-century Enlightenment Germany. The forerunners of today’s scholars were mostly children and grandchildren of Protestant ministers. Consequently, Fairbanks argued, modern scholarship has implicitly served the historical function of the scholarly anti-clericalism which sets up yet another obstacle that must be overcome in order to develop a better understanding of the origins of terrorism.
After all, said Fairbanks, if one takes a long view of history, one can see that modern scholarship has served to assist in the replacement of the medieval Christian Commonwealth (and, to a lesser extent, the replacement of the Islamic umma) by modern, secular nation-states. Scholarship still tends to be colored by Protestantism, particularly in countries with a protestant tradition. Modern scholarship is also biased by the fact that many English-speaking specialists on Islam come from the Indian subcontinent where there is a Salafi or anti-syncretistic tradition of Islam that eventually merged with Wahhabi currents.
However, explained Fairbanks, there are two correct scholarly generalizations that apply to Sufism in the Caucasus. The first is that the Caucasus—except the Shi’ite areas of Azerbaijan—is indeed part of the majority of the Muslim world where the great synthesis of shariah and Sufism pioneered by Abu Hamid Al-Ghazali was totally successful. In the North Caucasus—at least until Wahhabism was introduced from outside—there was a fusing of Sufism with Islamic scholarship or religious science. All Sufi shaykhs were well educated, and, before Communist rule, the literary language of Dagestan and of Chechnya was Arabic. After 1991, French and Russian scholars discovered small villages in highland Dagestan, near the Georgian border, which retained an active tradition of teaching Arabic and the Islamic sciences in secret throughout the Soviet period.
Fairbanks next discussed the Naqshbandi presence in the Caucasus, which was introduced into the region in the 14th century. It was later reinforced by the Naqshbandi Haqqania suborder, which was predominant in the 19th century. This occurred on the heels of a major revival of, what Fairbanks calls, “political Sufism,” an insufficiently analyzed, though important, phenomenon. Later in this century, the Naqshbandia Haqqania began to confront Russian imperialism and was soon identified with the broader anti-colonial struggle. The
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northeast Caucasus, i.e., Ingushetia, Chechnya, Dagestan and parts of Azerbaijan, became a place like Poland, Lithuania and Ireland—lands in which religion and nationalism were virtually fused.
There were four Imams in the North Caucasus beginning in 1829, and the last and most famous Imam Shamil, chosen in 1832, waged an extremely successful war (jihad) against Russia on the pattern of similarly successful jihads waged by people like Abdul Qadir, a Qadiri Sufi in Algeria in the 1830s and 1840s and the West African jihads by people like Usman dan Fodio in Nigeria and Niger. There was a great outpouring of political Sufism in the 18th and 19th centuries, and Imam Shamil became a very famous man. Fairbanks pointed out that his significance increased dramatically after his death, especially during the persecutions by Stalin after World War II. Even the descendants of those who fought him in Dagestan and Chechnya celebrated him as a national hero who had a great impact on the world.
Though Imam Shamil’s state, in most respects, was very close to shariah, the harsh Soviet rule had a tremendous impact in keeping his memory alive. In this period, the Quran was hardly printed, the Hadiths were accessible only if one had buried a copy in the backyard, and kutub primary schools were suppressed in the 1920s and 1930s. All madrassahs and all institutions of secondary or higher Islamic learning, closed in the late 1920s. Two Islamic institutes with a very distorted and shortened curriculum began again from 1952 on a tiny scale. Education in Arabic continued only in secret or (after a thorough period of government scrutiny) at the Oriental Institutes of Moscow, Leningrad and a few other places. As a result, the ulama diminished substantially; for example, in Bukhara, the number went down from 45,000 at the time of the Russian revolution to 8,000 in 1955.
Sufism, driven underground (because of Imam Shamil) and deprived of its connection with Islamic scholarship, became more folkish, more local, more ethnic and more “pagan” (the latter according to the Salafis), which had an international impact on the tariqat, or the orders. With no permissible teaching of Islam, the differentiation of students and those who develop into khalifahs, or successors, of a Shaykh became truncated. The hierarchy and the links to the international Sufi orders ultimately collapsed. Due to the need for secrecy, there were no particular buildings where Sufis met or lived. Sufism—either the Naqshbandiya or the Qadiriyyah order—was inherited directly from one’s parents. Sufism became more of a social institution and an aspect of Chechen and particularly northwest Dagestani social and family life rather than a real path one chooses. Neither student nor the mullahs differ markedly in appearance or in practices from the surrounding society. This is the starting point for Wahhabism, which has taken over the political-ideological dimension of Islam.
There is no political Islam of the Sufi nature in the north Caucasus, and in the end, concluded Fairbanks, it is not Sufism that the West must fear in the Caucasus. The Sufis may fight against Russia—and most of the Chechen fighters are still Sufis—but it is a personal matter—they do not want to fight and die for world jihad like their Wahhabi-influenced compatriots.
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Alex Alexiev, Senior Fellow, Center for Security Policy Alexiev focused his presentation on the conflict between Sufism and Wahhabism. As other speakers noted, this conflict is not new; in fact, it dates back to the founding of Wahhabism. The conflict in the Caucasus, however, is new, because until very recently there simply were no Wahhabis. After the fall of Communism, Sufi Islam was revived, and according to a Dagestani official, 60 percent of the local population identify themselves as Sufi. There are 40 registered brotherhoods, and it is not an exaggeration to say that Sufism is again assuming its historical role in North Caucasus. But the rise of Wahhabism has been far more remarkable.
Alexiev argued that the conflict between Sufis and Wahhabis is emblematic of a larger struggle between fundamentalism and syncretism, a struggle for the very soul of Islam. One important difference between the two is the interpretation of jihad: in Sufism, it is a striving for personal spiritual purification, while for Wahhabis it represents the struggle for the worldwide victory of Islam. Similarly, tribal, clan, and national loyalties are important for Sufis, while Wahhabis consider such thinking as anti-Islamic. They argue that one should strive for a North Caucasian Islamic Republic first and then ultimately for the triumph of the umma worldwide.
Accordingly, Alexiev explained, the Wahhabi influence serves to exacerbate existing conflicts within the region. For the Chechens, the primary objective in their armed conflict has been autonomy and perhaps independence, while the Wahhabis had a different agenda. It started with perestroika in 1986, when for the first time the local Muslims were given the ability “to be Muslims again,” and when travel to Russia became easer, it enabled Saudi missionaries to enter the country. Conditions also existed in the region that were in many ways congenial to the growth of extremist Islam, such as severe poverty and deep disillusionment among Muslims with their collaborationist establishment leaders.
Nonetheless, Alexiev argued, what made the rather dramatic spread of Wahhabism possible was money, and lots of it. The Saudis have said that they have spent over 80 billion dollars in assisting Islamic activities around the world since the mid-70s, of which a considerable amount went to the North Caucasus. Precisely how much is not known, but as a frame of reference, one could look at Bosnia. The Saudis spent 600 million dollars in Bosnia in the 1990s, which is $300 per Muslim in that country. There are thus now 160 Wahhabi mosques, countless madrassahs and many other radical Islamic institutions in the heart of a formerly moderate Muslim region. The same thing has happened in the Northern Caucasus; although there are no precise figures, Wahhabi mosques and madrassahs are everywhere. Alexiev noted that virtually all Islamic newspapers and all Islamic organizations are of the extremist sort in this region. And virtually all of this growth was funded by Saudi money.
The Wahhabis thus established a small but very powerful community comprising roughly 5 percent of the North Caucasian population. Their entry into the region resulted in radicalization in the Chechen resistance to the degree that it became an armed advocate of Wahhabism. In addition to attacking the Russians, it also attacked the Sufis. They began destroying Sufi tombs, accusing Sufi shaykhs of apostasy, and declaring Sufis as “kafirs.” After the Wahhabi invasion of Dagestan was beaten back by the local population—with the aid of the Russian military—in August 2000, Wahhabism was banned. Now, the problem of open invasions seems to be under control, but, concluded Alexiev, it is very much an ongoing concern in the underground.
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Bernard Lewis:
KEYNOTE LUNCH DISCUSSION What I will say now is partly the result of what I have been listening to today, and partly the result of reflections on the purpose of today’s meeting, that is, to discuss the relevance of these practical questions to foreign policy, national security and international relations. There are three points I would like to make. The first one is communication. We are talking about relations not just between countries, but between societies, cultures, religions and civilizations. Throughout all of human history, we see continuous misunderstanding and failures to read, to understand, and to appreciate what is happening “on the other side of the fence.” We all, on both sides, come to the natural tendency to extrapolate from ourselves and to assume that they are doing what we would do, they are reacting as we would react, they are meaning by what they say what we would mean if we said the same thing. Sometimes it is right but often it is dangerously wrong.
Let me get down to some specifics on this. First, let me begin with the simplistic and basic question of communication: language and translation. I became keenly aware of this long time ago when I was doing a piece of research on the beginnings of Anglo-Turkish diplomatic relations in the late 16th century. There were lots of documents in the Turkish and British archives and many letters exchanged between Queen Elizabeth and Sultan Murad. In England there was not a single person who knew any Turkish and in Turkey there was not a single person who knew any English. So they proceeded with a two-stage translation. If anyone compares the original documents on both sides one sees a pattern of systematic, purposeful mistranslation. The Sultan—at the time the lord of the universe—writes to Queen in a purportedly a friendly letter: “You will continue to be firm-footed on the part of submission on loyalty to our world embracing throne.” The English translation that would reach the Queen says, “We count on your continuing friendship and good will.” The reply, no doubt was modified and adjusted in the same way.
About thirty years ago, I had occasion to compare monitoring reports of Arabic broadcasts. That was before memory was established and the only services available were monitoring reports prepared by various governments on some purposes. But usually they were made available in one form or another. The BBC Arabic Service prepared monitoring reports of Arabic Broadcast for official use. The Voice of America did similar things for American news and copies were available too. When I compared them, I discovered that in the British monitoring reports, the listeners and translators employed by the BBC systematically edited out anything likely to be offensive to a British reader while retaining all the anti-American material. In the reports prepared in America, exactly the opposite took place. The anti-American material was discreetly edited out, while the anti-British items remained. You can see it to the present day, if you look at the published versions of speeches. The late president Nasser’s speech was published in book form and you can easily compare the Arabic originals and English translations. There is a pattern of mistranslation which certainly affects all forms of communication.
The answer of course is to learn languages. Unfortunately, we seem to be seeing regress rather than progress. When I was an undergraduate in the early 20th century, I was learning
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Arabic. By the second year, we were expected to read classical Arabic prose and by the third year we would read the Quran and the Hadiths. Nowadays, we feel we are doing very well if by the end of the fourth year students can stumble through a newspaper article. This is part of a change in the pattern. It is a difficulty and I have no suggestion on what to do about that. The question is not just the translation simply from one language to another; instead, the question is one of understanding.
In Christian Europe, there was an attempt from a fairly early stage to understand something about Islam, about classical Arabic literature, Islamic religion and so forth. This goes back to the High Middle Ages and is based on good practical considerations. After all, armed Islam was invading Europe and Europeans felt that something needed to be done. The study of Islam continued even after the threat of invasion receded. From 16th-17th century onwards there were chairs of Arabic in European Universities. The first chair of Arabic in France was established at the Collège de France at the beginning of the 16th century. The first French “imperial” incursion into the Arab world took place in 1798 in Egypt. Either the French orientalists were extraordinarily prescient, or the French imperialists were extraordinarily dilatory. And more importantly, they learned Arabic and established chairs of Arabic because Arabic was a classical and scriptural language and therefore worthy to take its place beside Latin, Greek and Biblical Hebrew in universities. But they did not establish chairs of Persian and Turkish even though by the 15th-16th centuries Arabic did not matter anymore in public life. Rulers of the Arab world were all speakers and writers of Turkish and Persian. They did not have chairs in Persian and Turkish for the same reason they did not have chairs of English and French: vernacular languages were not suitable material for university study. They continued to try to understand Islam, its language and its theology, which we call “Orientalism.”
However, there was no corresponding “Occidentalism.” On the other side, we find a total lack of interest in Europe until attention was forced by conquest and domination. Even then, the attention paid was to the contemporary. While European orientalists learned Classical Arabic and studied the Quran, the Middle Easterners who studied European languages were only concerned with contemporary problems. There is, for example, by the 18th and 19th centuries a vast literature of serious scholarship about Islamic law and theology by European Christians (and Jews). I am not aware of any serious study of Christian doctrinal theology by Muslim scholars. It just did not seem to be of interest or importance. It is a difference of perception.
I grew up in a generation where it was still permitted to make critical observations of other societies and favorable ones about one’s own. I realize that neither one is permitted in the present day. This difference is certainly an important element in the difficulty of communication that we still find not only surviving but increasing in the present time.
Let me turn now to the second point I want to make, which is about Wahhabism. We heard a great deal about Wahabbis during this meeting, but one important point remains to be made: Wahhabism is about as central in Islam, about as relevant to what you might call the major Islamic traditions, as the Ku Klux Klan is to Christianity. The enormous difference in impact between the two groups is due to a confluence of circumstances which happily did not take place in the Christian world: the conversion of the house of Saud and local tribal shaykhs in Necd to the Wahhabi doctrine in the 18th century, the establishment of the Saudi Kingdom in the 1920’s
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which included Mecca and Medina, and, worst of all, the discovery of oil. This meant that suddenly the Wahhabi monarchy was awash with oil money and controlled the two holiest places in Islam, with all its attendant prestige, manifested most of all in the control of the Hajj, the pilgrimage.
Westerners have great difficulty in understanding the importance of pilgrimage because it has no equivalency in Christian or Western history. Christians did make pilgrimages, but they were individual journeys taken at individually-convenient times. The Muslim pilgrimage was and is a corporate activity taking place at a certain time every year, drawing Muslims from every corner of the Muslim world. This experience established a level of communication within the Muslim world which has no parallel in the Christian world until the invention of modern mass media. Every year, Muslims come and participate in common ceremonies and rituals and naturally exchange thoughts and information. So there is a degree of intercommunication within the Muslim world through the pilgrimage, the importance of which is difficult to exaggerate. And once the House of Saud took control, this all came under the control of Wahhabi rulers. Add to this wealth arising due to oil, and the result is the transformation into a world force of something which would otherwise have been a lunatic sect on the fringes of a marginal country.
The third thing I would like to talk about is Sufism, and on this topic I wish to make one or two points. Nowadays, we talk a great deal about “tolerance,” and we hear a great deal of the legendary “tolerance” exhibited by Islamic Spain in the Middle Ages. Let me make clear what is meant by this. Tolerance is an essentially intolerant ideal. What do we mean when we say tolerance? Basically it means this: “I will allow you some, not all, of the rights of which I enjoy as long as you behave yourself according to rule which I will lay down.” I think this is fair definition of tolerance as practiced in Europe and other parts of the world. Now obviously it is a lot better than intolerance. If one compares the tolerance granted by the Ottoman Empire at its height with what was allowed in contemporaneous Europe, obviously the former was vastly better. Jews were able to find refuge in the Ottoman Empire and in the various Muslim states of North Africa. But it was still, what one would call in modern language, “second class citizenship.” This is clearly better than none at all.
But Sufism is remarkable. It offers something better than tolerance. The attitude to people of other religions exhibited in Sufi writings is without parallel. It is not just tolerance, it is acceptance. There are poems by Rumi, by Ibn Arabi in Persian and Turkish which indicate that all the religions are basically the same: All religions have the same purpose, the same message, the same communication, and they worship the same God. They may do so in different ways, but God is equally there in church, in mosque, and in synagogue. It seems to me that the notion of acceptance as distinct from mere tolerance is a profoundly important contribution and one which can still play a great role in establishing better relations between communities in the present time and in the future. If you look at the Ten Commandments you will see that most of them are concerned with the relationship between human beings. Only a small minority of commandments are concerned with relations between human beings and God. Most of them are what you should not do to your fellow human beings. In standard Islamic texts, it is the other way around: it is mostly concerned with relations with God rather than relations with other human beings. Sufism again brings significant change in this respect. It is also highly concerned with one’s actions towards other people, not just how you behave towards God. There is an Indian Sufi, Shaykh
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Sarafaddin, who puts it dramatically. He says “Offenses against people are worse than offenses against God. If you commit an offense against God, you are not doing God any harm and God can, in his way, forgive you. If you do things against other people, you are doing them real harm which may be irreparable. The question of forgiveness then becomes much more complicated.” It seems to me that this is an interesting contribution to the moral debate of the highest value.
My final point is in relation to some aspects of American foreign policy, which is our ostensible major underlying theme. There is a well known tradition in the Middle East dating back to the Cold War. Everybody knew that if you did anything to annoy Russians, punishment would be swift and dire. On the other hand, if you did anything to Americans, not only would there be no punishments, there might even be some rewards as the anxious procession of diplomats, congressmen, journalists, and others, came one after another, saying “What have we done to offend you, and what can we do to put it right?” These two requests remain the basis for foreign policy and that is why people in official circles seem to have great difficulty in adjusting themselves to a friendly movement. Usually, the basic attitude is “We must not get too close to our friends, for fear of antagonizing our enemies.” I do not think that this is a good form of diplomacy.
Shaykh Hisham Kabbani: Rumi said: “I am a Muslim, but I don’t know if I am; I don’t know if I am a Christian or a Jew or an Austrian or an Eastern or a Western or an upper or lower. I don’t know if I am from the four elements of the world. I don’t know if I am from heaven or from earth. I don’t know if I am an Indian or a Chinese or a Bulgarian. I don’t know if I am Iraqi or Syrian. I don’t know if I am from Roroshan or Aswohan. I don’t know if I am from this world or that – but I am a body and a soul. My ego is my soul. When I mention two it means me and God….”
Ibn Arabi said: “My heart became an image of every picture, it is the place for a Dervish to dance; it is a monastery for a monk to learn. It is a house for all or none to worship. It is a Ka’aba to make the pilgrimage. It is the ten commitments of Thora, it is the holy Quran—my religion is the religion of love. Wherever I direct my face it is love to God.”
From these poems we see that Sufism is a subject that works as a social power to bring people together. It is a bridge between different cultures, which, in part, explains Sufis’ success in almost all parts of the world. Sufis’ main goal was never to become the leaders of a country, but rather to become its social workers. They blend together with the people of the country and learn its languages. They facilitate communication among peoples, especially in times past when there were no visa requirements... They began relationships by intermarriage, and so in many ways built understanding between different kinds of peoples.
Allah mentions that you have to believe in the prophets and build communication with the Jews and the Christians. “Do not let them down,” because then social problems will multiply. He tells believers “to worship God as if you are seeing him. If you are not seeing him, he is seeing you.” That means “you cannot see Him but you can see His signs in this world.” Sufis read this in a different way: If you do not see yourself anymore—if you completely abolish your own desire, then you will see Him. Furthermore, it is sure that you will see Him in every individual—you have to see God in every individual and that is why Sufi teachings see every
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person in God’s creation as a person “engraved” by God. By acting in this way, the Sufis can never be reproached for irresponsibility or ill-mannered behavior.
One of the earliest Orientalists in Europe said that the Sufis have no need to spread their love of the heart with weapons. They have no army but use their spiritual tools in relationships with others. Accordingly, they brought grand numbers into their tradition in Central Asia, Indonesia, Southeast Asia, Turkey, and even Europe. Today, this does not happen because Islam has become closely identified with nationalism. At the beginning of the 20th century, during the uprising against European colonization in the Muslim world, Islamic scholars sought to interpret the Quran in such a way as to provide maximum support for this uprising. They entirely neglected spiritual (and Sufi) aspects of the religion in order to carry on this struggle. This Wahhabi resistance ultimately earned the right to speak for the Muslim world.
Another issue that I must raise is the distinction between Wahhabis and Salafis. There is no such term as Salafi in Islam. This term can only be applied for the first three centuries of Islam, called a-Salafu-saleh. After that, the term was not used until 1980, when, in an attempt to increase his religious legitimacy, King Fahd at the opening of a conference said, “We are not Wahhabis; we are Salafis.” Now, this term is being used to describe all these new and different radical Muslim groups such as the Muslim Brotherhood and Hizb ut-Tahrir.
I was in Indonesia recently and I met a person from China. He told me that the Chinese government is closing all Wahhabi mosques. I asked, “So, what type of Muslim are you?” He said, “I am of the Sufi of Uigur, and the government doesn’t say anything to us as long as we do not interfere in politics. The only problem we are facing today in China is that caused by the pilgrimage. We used to go by the thousands to Saudi Arabia, and the pilgrims were met at Jeddah by Wahhabis who passed out literature. Soon they all received crash courses in Wahhabism, and returned to China to destroy our shrines and burn our manuscripts. Thus our 1400-year-old Chinese Muslim civilization is being destroyed by Wahhabism.” If Wahhabism can penetrate the closed country of China, imagine what it’s doing in the United States! Before 1960 there was no problem in the US; but then came the Wahhabi teaching, which is why most of you here think Sufism is a strange form of Islam. But in reality, when you travel to other parts of the world, you will find that Sufism is an integral part of the religion. In Indonesia there are 50 million Naqshbandi students and 20 million in other orders, with similar numbers in Malaysia, Brunei, and Turkey. Even in Saudi Arabia there are Sufis who practice in their homes because they cannot do so in public.
Accordingly, we are faced with the following question: are we as Americans going to support the Sufis, or work with the Wahhabis? If we do the latter, we run the risk that we work with terrorists, whereas there is no such risk with Sufis. It is very simple: the United States must reach out to non-Wahhabi Muslims if it wants to succeed in this battle. It’s a no-lose proposition!
Discussion: Shaykh Kabbani was asked whether, given that Sufis do not engage in terrorism, the United States should support Sufi orders in areas experiencing turmoil, especially in Chechnya. He suggested that the United States keep pressuring the Russian government to reach a solution, and convey to the Russians that the problem lies not with the Chechen people themselves, but
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with the Wahhabis, who, using bribery and other forms of intrigue, encouraged hard-line elements of the Chechen population towards extremism. The Arab fighters who penetrated Chechnya via Dagestan wanted to bring down the Sufi Chechen leadership and establish their own Wahhabi-based government.
Lewis was then asked if he saw the future of the Middle East as an evolution toward a Western, secular democratic model, complete with the separation of church and state and the emergence of a middle class. He suggested that one has to be careful about definitions, especially the word “democracy.” So long as democracy is properly defined, he indeed sees it in the Middle East’s future; first in Iraq and then elsewhere.
Why is Lewis so optimistic? First, he answered, the notion that Baathism has made democracy impossible in Iraq and Syria is “quite false.” He explained that the party and Saddam Hussein-type regimes “have absolutely no roots in either the Arab or Islamic past. This is an importation from Europe. And we can date it precisely—1940.” Despite the French surrender, the collaborationist Vichy government retained control of the region, opening it up to Axis influence. The Baath movement arose “as an adaptation to local conditions of the Nazi model.” When the Soviets exercised influence over the region, the Baathists adjusted from the Nazi model to the communist model. Lewis stated that there is no reason for such models to be followed any longer in the Middle East.
Secondly, while the true local conditions in these countries “are not democratic in the sense of holding elections and having legislative assemblies,” there is a tradition of responsible, limited government. There is a recognition dating back to the very beginnings of Islam that the ruler has duties as well as responsibilities, and that his power is contractual. In fact, this contractual-consensual concept of government is enshrined in the shariah. So, Lewis said, “there is both a legal-cultural basis and a basis of experience” for the development of democracy in the Middle East. The type of despotic regimes that one sees at the present time in most of the Arab world is, said Lewis, “the result of Westernization, not by imperial powers, which are usually very cautious and conservative, but by over-eager Westernizers and modernizers in the region.” The resulting effects were twofold: on the one hand, Westernization greatly strengthened the sovereign power and, on the other, it weakened or removed all those elements in society that had previously limited the sovereign power. The result is that any present-day dictator has vastly greater powers than any of the great rulers of the past. This latter fact, said Lewis, “increases my optimism– that these despotic, aberrant regimes are not part of their cultural tradition. That was something imposed on them, brought in from outside. And if they look back to their own historical, cultural, religious traditions they will find much better elements.”
Thirdly, Lewis stated, Iraq had a decent education system and was remarkably progressive on women’s issues compared to the rest of the region. Women had access to education and many of them became doctors, lawyers, professors, scientists and business executives. This, in Lewis’ opinion, is another reason for hope in Iraq’s future.
Next the panelists were asked whether Sufism would be able to appeal to one of the abiding concerns of most Muslims, their inferior political, economic, and social status compared to the Western world; and, in so doing, counteract the spread of Wahhabism. Shaykh Kabbani
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responded by comparing the two traditions’ behavior at the beginning of the 20th century: “when the Wahhabis took the lead in order to interpret the holy Quran to motivate the Muslims against the British, they were also seeing the slow collapse of the Ottoman Empire, which would leave a vacuum that they wanted to fill. To do this, they wanted to control the House of Saud and, through it, the Muslim world.” However, said Shaykh Kabbani, “Sufis see the world not in terms of political control, but rather in terms of social problems such as health and education.” With the age of colonialism over, Shaykh Kabbani concluded, Sufis can “play a big role in establishing bridges between different cultures, different communities, and different countries. Most especially, they can allow Islam to flourish without the domination of particular countries. If Sufis are given the chance, and the encouragement, they will be able to achieve much in the way of peace.”
For his part, Lewis commented on the very notions of “freedom” and “independence,” which he characterized as “two different words, presenting two very different notions.” When the Muslims were still under colonial rule, said Lewis, the two were seen as different words for the same thing. Now, virtually all these countries have gained their independence, but they have a little less freedom than before. What independence has usually meant, Lewis clarified, was that foreign overlords were replaced by domestic tyrants who are more skilled and less inhibited in their tyranny than imperialists. Regarding freedom, he mentioned the chaplain to the first Egyptian mission to France in 1828, who wrote a book about his observations and discussed how much the French talked about freedom. The chaplain found this puzzling, because in Arabic at that time freedom was a legal term, not a political term; one was free if not a slave. He then realized that what the French meant by freedom was what Arabs meant by “justice.” Lewis underlined the importance of this distinction, as “in the Western world, we are accustomed to thinking of freedom and oppression, freedom and tyranny as opposite poles. In the traditional Islamic statement, it would be instead justice and oppression, and justice and tyranny, as opposite poles.” A correct understanding of the concept of justice is crucially important, Lewis concluded, for the development of free institutions in the Muslim world.
The next question was whether Sufis could use violence against Westerners, given that Sufi Chechens have used violence against the Russians, as did Sufis against the French in North Africa and the Dutch in Indonesia. Lewis responded briefly by saying, “I think anyone who studied Sufism would agree that Sufism is peaceful but it is not pacifist; Sufi brotherhoods did play an important role in the anti-imperialist struggle in North Africa, India, and the Caucasus.” However, Lewis asserted, “it is highly unlikely that such a need would arise in the future.”
The last question panelists were asked was on suggestions to the US government for improved dialogue with the Muslim world. Lewis simply said, “I would suggest that they should talk to Shaykh Kabbani.” For his part, Shaykh Kabbani cautioned that the US often ends up working with the Wahhabis all over the world. Instead, he suggested, the US should ask the right people to find individuals who are moderate Muslim scholars and seek their policy relevant suggestions.
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