Ashraf Ali Thanawi: Islam in Modern South Asia

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I have greatly benefited from the help and encouragement of many people in working on this book. I am grateful to Patricia Crone for inviting me to contribute a volume to the Makers of the Muslim World series and for her perceptive comments on an earlier draft. David Gilmartin read an earlier version of the book with his customary thoroughness, generously sharing his time and learning, and providing much astute feedback. I am also indebted to the outside reader for very helpful comments, to Mike Harpley and Kate Smith, my editors at Oneworld, for expertly shepherding the manuscript through various stages of preparation and production, and to Meg Davies for skillful copy-editing. It would have been difficult to bring this work to fruition without the counsel and support of Shaista Azizalam. I am most grateful to her, and to our children, Zaynab and Mustafa, for their love, patience, and understanding.

Bruce Lawrence read an earlier version of this book with great sensitivity and offered suggestions that helped make this a better book. His encouragement, advice, and support have long been crucial to my work, and his example as a scholar has continued to guide me. It is to him that I dedicate this book.

I began work on this project while at Brown University in Providence, Rhode Island, and completed it at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, New Jersey. I am grateful to both institutions for their financial support and to their library staff for much assistance.

A NOTE ON TRANSLITERATION, ABBREVIATIONS, AND OTHER CONVENTIONS

With the exception of ‘to indicate the Arabic letter ‘ayn (as in ‘Ali) and’ to signify the hamza (as in Qur’an), diacritics are not used in this book. The hamza itself is only used when it occurs within a word (as in Qur’an), but not when it occurs at the end (thus ‘ulama rather than ‘ulama’). With the exception of the term ‘ulama (singular ‘alim), the plural forms are indicated by adding an s to the word in the singular (thus madrasas rather than madaris, fatwas rather than fatawa). Non-English words are usually italicized only on the first occurrence. The following abbreviations are used in this book:

INTRODUCTION

Few figures from modern South Asia better illuminate the culture of the traditionally educated Muslim religious scholars, the ‘ulama, and their efforts to defend their scholarly tradition and articulate their authority in conditions of momentous religious and political change than Ashraf ‘Ali Thanawi (1863–1943). Thanawi’s juridical writings, including numerous fatwas addressing questions directed to him by Muslims from all over the Indian subcontinent, came to be influential in his own day and they have continued to shape discourses on Islamic law in both postcolonial India and in Pakistan. His Bihishti zewar (Heavenly Ornaments), a work intended specifically to inculcate the proper understanding of Islamic norms among Muslim women, is among the most influential books in Muslim South Asia. In the rich and varied Sufi landscape of the Indian subcontinent, Thanawi gradually emerged as a major figure, and some of the leading ‘ulama of the twentieth century came to count themselves among his disciples. His writings, and those of some of the disciples who lived in close proximity at his Sufi lodge and whose work he commissioned and oversaw, remain unmatched among the ‘ulama of South Asia in their range and their sheer volume.

Yet Thanawi is not well-known outside South Asia. In considerable measure, this has to do with the fact that, unlike some of his Indian contemporaries and not a few of his disciples, Thanawi wrote not in the Arabic language but rather in Urdu, the principal language of the Muslims of northern India in his age but one not understood outside South Asia. It also has to do, however, with the rather scant attention that contemporary scholars have usually given to the thought of the ‘ulama of modern times, in the Middle East and in South Asia. This contrasts with the increasingly sophisticated work on pre-modern Islamic legal, theological, and political thought. It also contrasts with the substantial body of literature that relates, on the one hand, to Muslim modernist and liberal thinkers – that is, those educated in western or westernized institutions of learning and seeking to rethink Muslim practices in light of what they take to be the challenges of modernity – and, on the other, to the Islamist (or fundamentalist) ideologues and activists committed to the public implementation of Islamic norms. In explicating Thanawi’s thought, which took shape during a time of great intellectual, religious, and political ferment in the history of modern South Asia, this study offers some account of evolving trends in South Asian Islam since the late nineteenth century. It seeks also to illustrate how the ‘ulama have sought to shape these trends in the course of defining and defending their own position in a contentious public and religious sphere. In this respect, this study should contribute to a better understanding of the culture of the ‘ulama, and not just in South Asia. A major focus of this study is on issues of religious authority, in intellectual, social, as well as political contexts, and as illustrated by the career and discourses of a preeminent religious scholar. Contestations on religious authority are scarcely peculiar to South Asian Islam, any more than they are to Islam in the modern world. What Thanawi’s discourses might tell us about articulations of religious authority in modern Muslim South Asia may be of broader interest than their specific geographical or historical milieu. The same might be said of some of the many tensions and ambiguities attending upon these articulations.

CONTESTATION IN THE RELIGIOUS SPHERE

In a milieu defined by the collapse of a centuries-long Muslim rule in India, an abortive Indian effort, in 1857, to challenge the growth of British power, and the consolidation of British colonial rule in the aftermath of the 1857 Mutiny, a madrasa was founded in the town of Deoband in 1867, in the United Provinces (now Uttar Pradesh) in northern India. It was at this institution of advanced Islamic learning, named the Dar al-‘Ulum, that Thanawi was educated.

The founding figures of the Deoband madrasa (as we would usually refer to the Dar al-‘Ulum) believed that it was no longer the patronage of the governing elite but the determination of the scholars themselves, and of the ordinary Muslims supporting them, that gave the best hope for the survival of the scholarly vocation. Founding the madrasa was much more than a matter of preserving and continuing the scholarly tradition, however. After all, there already were numerous madrasas and scholarly circles throughout the Indian subcontinent. The founders of Deoband had other, more specific ends in view. Unlike most Indian madrasas of the time, where the Islamic rational sciences such as Greek logic and philosophy enjoyed preeminence alongside the study of Islamic law, the Deobandis sought to foreground the study of hadith, the reported teachings of the Prophet Muhammad. They retained, as they still do, a strong emphasis on Islamic law, but this too was firmly anchored in the Islamic foundational texts, and especially in hadith. Further, the scholarly vocation of the madrasa’s ‘ulama was tied, much more than was true of any existing madrasa, to reforming the beliefs and practices of ordinary believers. To the early Deobandis, a self-conscious adherence to the teachings of the Qur’an and the hadith, as refracted through the norms of the Hanafi school of law, and a sense of individual moral responsibility were among the best means not only of salvation but also of preserving an Islamic identity in the adverse political conditions of British colonial rule. With dexterous use of the opportunities newly available through the technology of print, as well as through much old-fashioned public preaching (itself helped by new means of transportation, especially the railroad), they made sustained efforts to inculcate textually-anchored Islamic ethical and legal norms among ordinary Muslim men and women.

The impact of Deobandi teachings on the lives of common believers is hard to measure. The growth in the number of madrasas established by those committed, in some measure, to these teachings remains unmatched by any of Deoband’s rivals, however. Beginning with a madrasa in Saharanpur, also in the United Provinces, six months after the founding of the Dar al-‘Ulum at Deoband, thousands of Deobandi madrasas gradually came to be established throughout the Indian subcontinent. They have had few formal ties with one another, though all profess to share the doctrinal orientation represented by the first madrasa at Deoband. After the partition of the Indian subcontinent in 1947, many new madrasas were established in Pakistan; some of these, notably the Dar al-‘Ulum of Karachi, rival the Dar al-‘Ulum of Deoband itself in prestige and influence. According to one estimate, there were nearly ten thousand registered madrasas in Pakistan in 2002, as well as many unregistered ones. Of the registered madrasas, no fewer than seven thousand were Deobandi in orientation (Rahman 2004, 79, 190–191). There are no reliable estimates for the total number of madrasas, or specifically of Deobandi madrasas, in contemporary India; by all accounts, they number in the thousands. Deobandi madrasas also exist in the South Asian diaspora communities, e.g. in South Africa and Britain.

The Deobandi orientation was but one expression of the rich and contentious milieu of late nineteenth-century India. An increasingly important part of this milieu comprised those being educated in English institutions of learning. For Muslims, by far the most important of these institutions was the Muhammadan Anglo-Oriental College in Aligarh (later Aligarh Muslim University). Its founder, Sir Sayyid Ahmad Khan (d. 1898), believed that unflinching loyalty to the British and the pursuit of education offered the best means for Muslims to rehabilitate themselves in the aftermath of the end of Muslim rule in India. But it was modern, western education, not the sort of learning imbibed in madrasas, that he advocated, and he seldom concealed his contempt for the contemporary ‘ulama and for their styles and institutions of learning. Similar views were widely shared among Muslim products of English institutions. To the ‘ulama, for their part, Muslims educated at such institutions were a menace, and this consisted in much more than their ignorance of true Islam. Their education had, rather, cultivated a false sense of confidence, independence, and arrogance in them, making them resistant to the acknowledgment of any authority higher than their own. Combined with their shallow religious knowledge, this meant that they were willing to interpret Islamic texts and refashion Islamic norms and institutions almost at will, and to put them all at the mercy of fleeting considerations of expediency.

This, of course, was a caricature of the modern educated, the English readers, as Thanawi often referred to them (cf. Thanawi, al-Ifadat [hereafter abbreviated as I], 4:141 [#183], 5:103 [#120], 6:208 [#371]). The idea that one’s opponents act on mere whim, rather than in a principled, responsible manner and in accordance with authoritative norms, is a familiar motif in medieval sectarian polemics. It has continued to be deployed against modernist and liberal Muslims. But even the caricature reminds us that, for the ‘ulama, there was no mistaking the scope and severity of the challenge they faced from this quarter, and what it meant in terms of the fragmentation of religious authority (cf. Eickelman and Piscatori 1996, 37–79, 131–135; Zaman 2006). For all his professions to the contrary, Thanawi was keen to have a following among the English-educated. He sought, as we will see, to rearticulate the ‘ulama’s authority in the very midst – indeed, in recognition – of its fragmentation. And the challenge of the English-educated was crucial in many ways to the shaping of his thought.

The sheer variety of orientations, old as well as new, within the ranks of the ‘ulama also contributed much to the intellectual ferment of the late nineteenth century. Indeed, a great deal of the ingenuity of the ‘ulama was directed, as it had been in the past, towards meeting the challenges of rival ‘ulama. The Deobandis had several groups of rivals to contend with. One of these groups, the Barelawis, comprised, like the Deobandis, a doctrinal orientation, though a much more amorphous one. Led by a prolific scholar, Ahmad Rida Khan of Bareilly (d. 1921 [see Sanyal 2005]), the Barelawis continued long-standing forms of devotional piety characteristic of Islam in India. These included commemorating Muslim saints, typically on their death anniversaries and often at their shrines, as well as organizing often elaborate ceremonies in honor of the Prophet Muhammad, especially to mark his birthday (milad). The Barelawis held that the best way to have one’s prayers answered by God was to secure the intercession of the saints and, of course, of the Prophet; and their devotional piety has long remained anchored in the conviction that the spirit of the Prophet continues to be in their midst, especially on occasions organized in his honor. The Deobandis, too, revered the memory of the saints and of the Prophet and, as we will observe with reference to Thanawi, the question of whether to participate in popular ceremonial occasions organized in the Prophet’s honor was far from settled even among them. Yet they tended to be suspicious of excessive expressions of devotion to holy men, which they saw as threatening what ought to be an uncompromising submission to God. To the Deobandis, the sort of Sufi piety that was a hallmark of Barelawi practices veered dangerously close to setting up partners with God, the most heinous of sins in Islam; and the more stringent Deobandis were not above characterizing particular devotional practices as polytheism. The Barelawis, for their part, often dubbed the Deobandis as Wahhabis, with reference to the sectarian