Mohammedanism

Lectures on Its Origin, Its Religious and Political Growth, and Its Present
State

by C. Snouck Hurgronje

Professor of the Arabic Language in the University of Leiden, Holland
1916


CONTENTS


SOME POINTS CONCERNING THE ORIGIN OF ISLÂM.

THE RELIGIOUS DEVELOPMENT OF ISLÂM.

THE POLITICAL DEVELOPMENT OF ISLÂM.

ISLÂM AND MODERN THOUGHT.



III

THE POLITICAL DEVELOPMENT OF ISLÂM


In the first period of Islâm, the functions of what we call Church and
what we call State were exercised by the same authority. Its political
development is therefore of great importance for the understanding of its
religious growth.

The Prophet, when he spoke in the name of God, was the lawgiver of his
community, and it was rightly understood by the later Faithful that his
indispensable explanations of God's word had also legislative power. From
the time of the Hijrah the nature of the case made him the ruler, the
judge, and the military commander of his theocratic state. Moreover, Allah
expressly demanded of the Moslims that they should obey "the Messenger
of God, and those amongst them who have authority."[1] We see by this
expression that Mohammed shared his temporal authority with others. His
co-rulers were not appointed, their number was nowhere defined, they were
not a closed circle; they were the notables of the tribes or other groups
who had arrayed themselves under Mohammed's authority, and a few who had
gained influence by their personality. In their councils Mohammed's word
had no decisive power, except when he spoke in the name of Allah; and we
know how careful he was to give oracles only in cases of extreme need.

[Footnote 1: Qorân, iv., 62.]

In the last years of Mohammed's life his authority became extended over a
large part of Arabia; but he did very little in the way of centralization
of government. He sent _'âmils, i.e._, agents, to the conquered tribes
or villages, who had to see that, in the first place, the most important
regulations of the Qorân were followed, and, secondly, that the tax into
which the duty of almsgiving had been converted was promptly paid, and
that the portion of it intended for the central fund at Medina was duly
delivered. After the great conquests, the governors of provinces of the
Moslim Empire, who often exercised a despotic power, were called by the
same title of _'âmils_. The agents of Mohammed, however, did not possess
such unlimited authority. It was only gradually that the Arabs learned the
value of good discipline and submission to a strong guidance, and adopted
the forms of orderly government as they found them in the conquered lands.

Through the death of Mohammed everything became uncertain. The combination
under one leadership of such a heterogeneous mass as that of his Arabs
would have been unthinkable a few years before. It became quite natural,
though, as soon as the Prophet's mouth was recognized as the organ of
Allah's voice. Must this monarchy be continued after Allah's mouthpiece had
ceased to exist? It was not at all certain. The force of circumstances and
the energy of some of Mohammed's counsellors soon led to the necessary
decisions. A number of the notables of the community succeeded in forcing
upon the hesitating or unwilling members the acceptance of the monarchy as
a permanent institution. There must be a khalîf, a deputy of the Prophet in
all his functions (except that of messenger of God), who would be ruler
and judge and leader of public worship, but above all _amîr al-mu'minîn_,
"Commander of the Faithful," in the struggle both against the apostate
Arabs and against the hostile tribes on the northern border.

But for the military success of the first khalifs Islâm would never have
become a universal religion. Every exertion was made to keep the troops of
the Faithful complete. The leaders followed only Mohammed's example
when they represented fighting for Allah's cause as the most enviable
occupation. The duty of military service was constantly impressed upon the
Moslims; the lust of booty and the desire for martyrdom, to which the Qorân
assigned the highest reward, were excited to the utmost. At a later period,
it became necessary in the interests of order to temper the result of this
excitement by traditions in which those of the Faithful who died in the
exercise of a peaceful, honest profession were declared to be witnesses to
the Faith as well as those who were slain in battle against the enemies of
God,--traditions in which the real and greater holy war was described as
the struggle against evil passions. The necessity of such a mitigating
reaction, the spirit in which the chapters on holy war of Mohammedan
lawbooks are conceived, and the galvanizing power which down to our own day
is contained in a call to arms in the name of Allah, all this shows that
in the beginning of Islâm the love of battle had been instigated at the
expense of everything else.

The institution of the Khalifate had hardly been agreed upon when the
question of who should occupy it became the subject of violent dissension.
The first four khalîfs, whose reigns occupied the first thirty years after
Mohammed's death, were Qoraishites, tribesmen of the Prophet, and moreover
men who had been his intimate friends. The sacred tradition relates a
saying of Mohammed: "The _imâms_ are from Qoraish," intended to confine the
Khalifate to men from that tribe. History, however, shows that this edict
was forged to give the stamp of legality to the results of a long political
struggle. For at Mohammed's death the Medinese began fiercely contesting
the claims of the Qoraishites; and during the reign of Alî, the fourth
Khalîf, the Khârijites rebelled, demanding, as democratic rigorists, the
free election of khalîfs without restriction to the tribe of Qoraish or to
any other descent. Their standard of requirements contained only religious
and moral qualities; and they claimed for the community the continual
control of the chosen leader's behaviour and the right of deposing him
as soon as they found him failing in the fulfilment of his duties. Their
anarchistic revolutions, which during more than a century occasionally gave
much trouble to the Khalifate, caused Islâm to accentuate the aristocratic
character of its monarchy. They were overcome and reduced to a sect, the
survivors of which still exist in South-Eastern Arabia, in Zanzibar, and in
Northern Africa; however, the actual life of these communities resembles
that of their spiritual forefathers to a very remote degree.

Another democratic doctrine, still more radical than that of the
Khârijites, makes even non-Arabs eligible for the Khalifate. It must have
had a considerable number of adherents, for the tradition which makes the
Prophet responsible for it is to be found in the canonic collections. Later
generations, however, rendered it harmless by exegesis; they maintained
that in this text "commander" meant only subordinate chiefs, and not "the
Commander of the Faithful." It became a dogma in the orthodox Mohammedan
world, respected up to the sixteenth century, that only members of the
tribe of Qoraish could take the place of the Messenger of God.

The chance of success was greater for the legitimists than for the
democratic party. The former wished to make the Khalifate the privilege
of Alî, the cousin and son-in-law of the Prophet, and his descendants. At
first the community did not take much notice of that "House of Mohammed";
and it did not occur to any one to give them a special part in the
direction of affairs. Alî and Fâtima themselves asked to be placed in
possession only of certain goods which had belonged to Mohammed, but which
the first khalîfs would not allow to be regarded as his personal property;
they maintained that the Prophet had had the disposal of them not as owner,
but as head of the state. This narrow greed and absence of political
insight seemed to be hereditary in the descendants of Ali and Fâtima; for
there was no lack of superstitious reverence for them in later times, and
if one of them had possessed something of the political talent of the best
Omayyads and Abbasids he would certainly have been able to supplant them.

After the third Khalîf, Othmân, had been murdered by his political
opponents, Ali became his successor; but he was more remote than any of his
predecessors from enjoying general sympathy. At that time the Shî'ah, the
"Party" of the House of the Prophet, gradually arose, which maintained that
Ali should have been the first Khalîf, and that his descendants should
succeed him. The veneration felt for those descendants increased in the
same proportion as that for the Prophet himself; and moreover, there
were at all times malcontents, whose advantage would be in joining any
revolution against the existing government. Yet the Alids never succeeded
in accomplishing anything against the dynasties of the Omayyads, the
Abbasids, and the Ottomans, except in a few cases of transitory importance
only.

The Fatimite dynasty, of rather doubtful descent, which ruled a part
of Northern Africa and Egypt in the tenth century A.D., was completely
suppressed after some two and a half centuries. The Sherîfs who have ruled
Morocco for more than 950 years were not chiefs of a party that considered
the legality of their leadership a dogma; they owe their local Khalifate
far more to the out-of-the-way position of their country which prevented
Abbasids and Turks from meddling with their affairs. Otherwise, they would
have been obliged at any rate to acknowledge the sovereignty of the Great
Lord of Constantinople. This was the case with the Sherîfs of Mecca, who
ever since the twelfth century have regarded the sacred territory as their
domain. Their principality arose out of the general political disturbance
and the division of the Mohammedan empire into a number of kingdoms, whose
mutual strife prevented them from undertaking military operations in the
desert. These Sherîfs raised no claim to the Khalifate; and the Shî'itic
tendencies they displayed in the Middle Ages had no political significance,
although they had intimate relations with the Zaidites of Southern Arabia.
As first Egypt and afterwards Turkey made their protectorate over the holy
cities more effective, the princes of Mecca became orthodox.

The Zaidites, who settled in Yemen from the ninth century on, are really
Shî'ites, although of the most moderate kind. Without striving after
expansion outside Arabia, they firmly refuse to give up their own Khalifate
and to acknowledge the sovereignty of any non-Alid ruler; the efforts of
the Turks to subdue them or to make a compromise with them have had no
lasting results. This is the principal obstacle against their being
included in the orthodox community, although their admission is defended,
even under present circumstances, by many non-political Moslim scholars.
The Zaidites are the remnant of the original Arabian Shî'ah, which for
centuries has counted adherents in all parts of the Moslim world, and some
of whose tenets have penetrated Mohammedan orthodoxy. The almost general
veneration of the sayyids and sherîfs, as the descendants of Mohammed are
entitled, is due to this influence.

The Shî'ah outside Arabia, whose adherents used to be persecuted by the
official authorities, not without good cause, became the receptacle of all
the revolutionary and heterodox ideas maintained by the converted peoples.
Alongside of the _visible_ political history of Islâm of the first
centuries, these circles built up their evolution of the _unseen_
community, the only true one, guided by the Holy Family, and the reality
was to them a continuous denial of the postulates of religion. Their first
_imâm_ or successor of the Prophet was Alî, whose divine right had been
unjustly denied by the three usurpers, Abu Bakr, Omar, and Othmân, and who
had exercised actual authority for a few years in constant strife with
Khârijites and Omayyads. The efforts of his legitimate successors to assert
their authority were constantly drowned in blood; until, at last, there
were no more candidates for the dangerous office. This prosaic fact was
converted by the adherents of the House of Mohammed into the romance,
that the last _imâm_ of a line of _seven_ according to some, and _twelve_
according to others, had disappeared in a mysterious way, to return at the
end of days as Mahdî, the Guided One, who should restore the political
order which had been disturbed ever since Mohammed's death. Until his
reappearance there is nothing left for the community to do but to await
his advent, under the guidance of their secular rulers (e.g., the shâhs of
Persia) and enlightened by their authoritative scholars (_mujtahids_), who
explain faith and law to them from the tradition of the Sacred Family.
The great majority of Mohammedans, as they do not accept this legitimist
theory, are counted by the Shî'ah outside Arabia as unclean heretics, if
not as unbelievers.

At the beginning of the fifteenth century this Shî'ah found its political
centre in Persia, and opposed itself fanatically to the Sultan of Turkey,
who at about the same time came to stand at the head of orthodox Islâm.
All differences of doctrine were now sharpened and embittered by political
passion, and the efforts of single enlightened princes or scholars to
induce the various peoples to extend to each other, across the political
barriers, the hand of brotherhood in the principles of faith, all failed.
It is only in the last few years that the general political distress of
Islâm has inclined the estranged relatives towards reconciliation.

Besides the veneration of the Alids, orthodox Islâm has adopted another
Shîitic element, the expectation of the Mahdî, which we have just
mentioned. Most Sunnites expect that at the end of the world there will
come from the House of Mohammed a successor to him, guided by Allah, who
will maintain the revealed law as faithfully as the first four khalîfs did
according to the idealized history, and who will succeed with God's help in
making Islâm victorious over the whole world. That the chiliastic kingdom
of the Mahdî must in the end be destroyed by Anti-Christ, in order that
Jesus may be able once more to re-establish the holy order before the
Resurrection, was a necessary consequence of the amalgamation of the
political expectations formed under Shî'itic influence, with eschatological
conceptions formerly borrowed by Islâm from Christianity.

The orthodox Mahdî differs from that of the Shî'ah in many ways. He is not
an _imâm_ returning after centuries of disappearance, but a descendant of
Mohammed, coming into the world in the ordinary way to fulfill the ideal of
the Khalifate. He does not re-establish the legitimate line of successors
of the Prophet; but he renews the glorious tradition of the Khalifate,
which after the first thirty years was dragged into the general
deterioration, common to all human things. The prophecies concerning his
appearance are sometimes of an equally supernatural kind as those of the
Shîites, so that the period of his coming has passed more and more
from the political sphere to which it originally belonged, into that of
eschatology. Yet, naturally, it is easier for a popular leader to make
himself regarded as the orthodox Mahdî than to play the part of the
returned _imâm_. Mohammedan rulers have had more trouble than they cared
for with candidates for the dignity of the Mahdî; and it is not surprising
that in official Turkish circles there is a tendency to simplify the
Messianic expectation by giving the fullest weight to this traditional
saying of Mohammed "There is no mahdî but Jesus," seeing that Jesus must
come from the clouds, whereas other mahdîs may arise from human society.

In the orthodox expectation of the Mahdi the Moslim theory has most sharply
expressed its condemnation of the later political history of Islâm. In the
course of the first century after the Hijrah the Qorân scholars (_gârîs_)
arose; and these in turn were succeeded by the men of tradition (_ahl
al-hadîth_) and by the canonists (_faqîhs_) of later times. These learned
men (_ulamâ'_) would not endure any interference with their right to state
with authority what Islâm demanded of its leaders. They laid claim to an
interpretative authority concerning the divine law, which bordered upon
supreme legislative power; their agreement (Ijmâ') was that of the
infallible community. But just as beside this legislative agreement, a
dogmatic and a mystic agreement grew up, in the same way there was a
separate Ijmâ' regarding the political government, upon which the canonists
could exercise only an indirect influence. In other words since the
accession of the Omayyad khalîfs, the actual authority rested in the hands
of dynasties, and under the Abbasids government assumed even a despotic
character. This relation between the governors and governed, originally
alien to Islâm, was not changed by the transference of the actual power
into the hands of _wezîrs_ and officers of the bodyguard; nor yet by
the disintegration of the empire into a number of small despotisms, the
investiture of which by the khalîf became a mere formality. Dynastic and
political questions were settled in a comparatively small circle, by court
intrigue, stratagems, and force; and the canonists, like the people, were
bound to accept the results. Politically inclined interpreters of the law
might try to justify their compulsory assent to the facts by theories about
the Ijmâ' of the notables residing in the capital, who took the urgent
decisions about the succession, which decisions were subsequently confirmed
by general homage to the new prince; but they had no illusions about the
real influence of the community upon the choice of its leader. The most
independent scholars made no attempt to disguise the fact that the course
which political affairs had taken was the clearest proof of the moral
degeneration which had set in, and they pronounced an equally bold and
merciless criticism upon the government in all its departments. It became
a matter of course that a pious scholar must keep himself free from all
intercourse with state officials, on pain of losing his reputation.

The bridge across the gulf that separated the spiritual from the temporal
authorities was formed by those state officials who, for the practice
of their office, needed a knowledge of the divine law, especially the
_qâdhîs_. It was originally the duty of these judges to decide all legal
differences between Mohammedans, or men of other creeds under Mohammedan
protection, who called for their decision. The actual division between the
rulers and the interpreters of the law caused an ever-increasing limitation
of the authority of the _qâdhîs_. The laws of marriage, family, and
inheritance remained, however, their inalienable territory; and a number
of other matters, in which too great a religious interest was involved to
leave them to the caprice of the governors or to the customary law outside
Islâm, were usually included. But as the _qâdhîs_ were appointed by the
governors, they were obliged in the exercise of their office to give due
consideration to the wishes of their constituents; and moreover they were
often tainted by what was regarded in Mohammedan countries as inseparable
from government employment: bribery.

On this account, the canonists, although it was from their ranks that the
officials of the _qâdhî_ court were to be drawn, considered no words too
strong to express their contempt for the office of _qâdhî_. In handbooks
of the Law of all times, the _qâdhîs "of our time"_ are represented as
unscrupulous beings, whose unreliable judgments were chiefly dictated by
their greed. Such an opinion would not have acquired full force, if it
had not been ascribed to Mohammed; in fact, the Prophet, according to a
tradition, had said that out of three _qâdhîs_ two are destined to
Hell. Anecdotes of famous scholars who could not be prevailed upon
by imprisonment or castigation to accept the office of _qâdhîs_ are
innumerable. Those who succumbed to the temptation forfeited the respect of
the circle to which they had belonged.

I once witnessed a case of this kind, and the former friends of the _qâdhî_
did not spare him their bitter reproaches. He remarked that the judge,
whose duty it was to maintain the divine law, verily held a noble office.
They refuted this by saying that this defence was admissible only for
earlier and better times, but not for "the _qâdhîs_ of our time." To which
he cuttingly replied "And ye, are ye canonists of the better, the ancient
time?" In truth, the students of sacred science are just as much "of our
time" as the _qâdhîs_. Even in the eleventh century the great theologian
Ghazâlî counted them all equal.[1] Not a few of them give their
authoritative advice according to the wishes of the highest bidder or
of him who has the greatest influence, hustle for income from pious
institutions, and vie with each other in a revel of casuistic subtleties.
But among those scholars there are and always have been some who, in
poverty and simplicity, devote their life to the study of Allah's law with
the sole object of pleasing him; among the _qâdhîs_ such are not easily to
be found. Amongst the other state officials the title of _qâdhî_ may count
as a spiritual one, and the public may to a certain extent share this
reverence; but in the eyes of the pious and of the canonists such glory is
only reflected from the clerical robe, in which the worldling disguises
himself.

[Footnote 1: Ghazâlî, _Ihya_, book i., ch. 6, quotes the words of a pious
scholar of the olden time: "The 'ulamâ' will (on the Day of judgment)
be gathered amongst the prophets, but the _qâdhîs_ amongst the temporal
rulers." Ghazâli adds "alike with these _qâdhîs_ are all those canonists
who make use of their learning for worldly purposes."]

To the _muftî_ criticism is somewhat more favourable than to the _qâdhî_. A
muftî is not necessarily an official; every canonist who, at the request of
a layman, expounds to him the meaning of the law on any particular point
and gives a _fatwa_, acts as a _muftî_. Be the question in reference to the
behaviour of the individual towards God or towards man, with regard to his
position in a matter of litigation, in criticism of a state regulation or
of a sentence of a judge, or out of pure love of knowledge, the scholar is
morally obliged to the best of his knowledge to enlighten the enquirer. He
ought to do this for the love of God; but he must live, and the enquirer is
expected to give him a suitable present for his trouble. This again gives
rise to the danger that he who offers most is attended to first; and that
for the liberal rich man a dish is prepared from the casuistic store, as
far as possible according to his taste. The temptation is by no means so
great as that to which the _qâdhî_ is exposed; especially since the office
of judge has become an article of commerce, so that the very first step
towards the possession of it is in the direction of Hell. Moreover in
"these degenerate times"--which have existed for about ten centuries--the
acceptance of an appointment to the function of _qâdhî_ is not regarded as
a duty, while a competent scholar may only refuse to give a _fatwa_ under
exceptional circumstances. Still, an unusually strong character is needed
by the _muftî_, if he is not to fall into the snares of the world.

Besides _qâdhîs_ who settle legal disputes of a certain kind according to
the revealed law, the state requires its own advisers who can explain
that law, i.e., official _muftîs_. Firstly, the government itself may be
involved in a litigation; moreover in some government regulations it may be
necessary to avoid giving offence to canonists and their strict disciples.
In such cases it is better to be armed beforehand with an expert opinion
than to be exposed to dangerous criticism which might find an echo in a
wide circle. The official _muftî_ must therefore be somewhat pliable, to
say the least. Moreover, any private person has the right to put questions
to the state _muftî_; and the _qâdhî_ court is bound to take his answers
into account in its decisions. In this way the _muftîs_ have absorbed a
part of the duties of the _qâdhîs_, and so their office is dragged along in
the degradation that the unofficial canonists denounce unweariedly in their
writings and in their teaching.

The way in which the most important _muftî_ places are filled and above
all the position which the head-_muftî_ of the Turkish Empire, the
Sheikh-ul-Islâm, holds at any particular period, may well serve as a
touchstone of the influence of the canonists on public life. If this is
great, then even the most powerful sultan has only the possibility of
choice between a few great scholars, put forward or at all events not
disapproved of by their own guild, strengthened by public opinion. If, on
the other hand, there is no keen interest felt in the Sharî'ah (Divine
Law), then the temporal rulers can do pretty much what they like with these
representatives of the canon law. Under the tyrannical sway of Sultan
Abd-ul-Hamid, the Sheikh-ul-Islâm was little more than a tool for him and
his palace clique, and for their own reasons, the members of the Committee
of Union and Progress, who rule at Constantinople since 1908, made no
change in this: each new ministry had its own Sheikh-ul-Islâm, who had to
be, above everything, a faithful upholder of the constitutional theory
held by the Committee. The time is past when the Sultan and the Porte,
in framing even the most pressing reform, must first anxiously assure
themselves of the position that the _hojas, tolbas, softas_, the
theologians in a word, would take towards it, and of the influence that
the Sheikh-ul-Islâm could use in opposition to their plans. The political
authority makes its deference to the canonists dependent upon their strict
obedience.

This important change is a natural consequence of the modernization of
Mohammedan political life, a movement through which the expounders of a
law which has endeavoured to remain stationary since the year 1000 must
necessarily get into straits. This explains also why the religious life of
Mohammedans is in some respects freer in countries under non-Mohammedan
authority, than under a Mohammedan government. Under English, Dutch, or
French rule the 'ulamâs are less interfered with in their teaching, the
_muftîs_ in their recommendations, and the _qâdhîs_ in their judgments of
questions of marriage and inheritance than in Turkey, where the life of
Islâm, as state religion, lies under official control. In indirectly
governed "native states" the relation of Mohammedan "Church and State" may
much more resemble that in Turkey, and this is sometimes to the advantage
of the sovereign ruler. Under the direct government of a modern state, the
Mohammedan group is treated as a religious community, whose particular life
has just the same claim to independence as that of other denominations. The
only justifiable limitation is that the program of the forcible reduction
of the world to Mohammedan authority be kept within the scholastic walls as
a point of eschatology, and not considered as a body of prescriptions, the
execution of which must be prepared.

The extensive political program of Islâm, developed during the first
centuries of astounding expansion, has yet not prevented millions of
Mohammedans from resigning themselves to reversed conditions in which at
the present time many more Mohammedans live under foreign authority than
under their own. The acceptance of this change was facilitated by the
historical pessimism of Islâm, which makes the mind prepared for every
sort of decay, and by the true Moslim habit of resignation to painful
experiences, not through fatalism, but through reverence for Allah's
inscrutable will. At the same time, it would be a gross mistake to imagine
that the idea of universal conquest may be considered as obliterated. This
is the case with the intellectuals and with many practical commercial or
industrial men; but the canonists and the vulgar still live in the illusion
of the days of Islâm's greatness.

The legists continue to ground their appreciation of every actual political
condition on the law of the holy war, which war ought never to be allowed
to cease entirely until all mankind is reduced to the authority of
Islâm--the heathen by conversion, the adherents of acknowledged Scripture
by submission. Even if they admit the improbability of this at present,
they are comforted and encouraged by the recollection of the lengthy period
of humiliation that the Prophet himself had to suffer before Allah bestowed
victory upon his arms; and they fervently join with the Friday preacher,
when he pronounces the prayer, taken from the Qorân: "And lay not on us, O
our Lord, that for which we have not strength, but blot out our sins and
forgive us and have pity upon us. Thou art our Master; grant us then to
conquer the unbelievers!" And the common people are willingly taught by the
canonists and feed their hope of better days upon the innumerable legends
of the olden time and the equally innumerable apocalyptic prophecies about
the future. The political blows that fall upon Islâm make less impression
upon their simple minds than the senseless stories about the power of
the Sultan of Stambul, that would instantly be revealed if he were not
surrounded by treacherous servants, and the fantastic tidings of the
miracles that Allah works in the Holy Cities of Arabia which are
inaccessible to the unfaithful.

The conception of the Khalifate still exercises a fascinating influence,
regarded in the light of a central point of union against the unfaithful.
Apart from the _'âmils_, Mohammed's agents amongst the Arabian tribes,
the Khalifate was the only political institution which arose out of the
necessity of the Moslim community, without foreign influence. It rescued
Islâm from threatening destruction, and it led the Faithful to conquest. No
wonder that in historic legend the first four occupiers of that leadership,
who, from Medina, accomplished such great things, have been glorified into
saints, and are held up to all the following generations as examples to put
them to shame. In the Omayyads the ancient aristocracy of Mecca came to the
helm, and under them, the Mohammedan state was above all, as Wellhausen
styled it, "the Arabian Empire." The best khalîfs of this house had
the political wisdom to give the governors of the provinces sufficient
independence to prevent schism, and to secure to themselves the authority
in important matters. The reaction of the non-Arabian converts against the
suppression of their own culture by the Arabian conquerors found support in
the opposition parties, above all with the Shî'ah. The Abbasids, cleverer
politicians than the notoriously unskillful Alids, made use of the Alid
propaganda to secure the booty to themselves at the right moment. The means
which served the Alids for the establishment only of an invisible dynasty
of princes who died as martyrs, enabled the descendants of Mohammed's
uncle Abbas to overthrow the Omayyads, and to found their own Khalifate at
Bagdad, shining with the brilliance of an Eastern despotism.

When it is said that the Abbasid Khalifate maintained itself from 750 till
the Mongol storm in the middle of the thirteenth century, that only refers
to external appearance. After a brief success, the actual power of these
khalîfs was transferred to the hands, first, of the captains of their
bodyguard, then of sultan-dynasties, whose forcibly acquired powers, were
legalized by a formal investiture. In the same way the large provinces
developed into independent kingdoms, whose rulers considered the
nomination-diplomas from Bagdad in the light of mere ornaments. Compared to
this irreparable disintegration of the empire, temporary schisms such as
the Omayyad Khalifate in Spain, the Fatimid Khalifate in Egypt, and here
and there an independent organization of the Khârijites were of little
significance.

It seems strange that the Moslim peoples, although the theory of Islâm
never attributed an hereditary character to the Khalifate, attached so high
a value to the Abbasid name, that they continued unanimously to acknowledge
the Khalifate of Bagdad for centuries during which it possessed no
influence. But the idea of hereditary rulers was deeply rooted in most
of the peoples converted to Islâm, and the glorious period of the first
Abbasids so strongly impressed itself on the mind of the vulgar, that the
_appearance_ of continuation was easily taken for _reality_. Its voidness
would sooner have been realized, if lack of energy had not prevented the
later Abbasids from trying to recover the lost power by the sword, or if
amongst their rivals who could also boast of a popular tradition--e.g.,
the Omayyads, or still more the Alids--a political genius had succeeded in
forming a powerful opposition. But the sultans who ruled the various states
did not want to place all that they possessed in the balance on the chance
of gaining the title of Khalîf. The Moslim world became accustomed to the
idea that the honoured House of the Prophet's uncle Abbas existed for the
purpose of lending an additional glory to Mohammedan princes by a diploma.
Even after the destruction of Bagdad by the Mongols in 1258, from which
only a few Abbasids escaped alive, Indian princes continued to value visits
or deeds of appointment granted them by some begging descendant of the
"Glorious House." The sultans of Egypt secured this luxury permanently for
themselves by taking a branch of the family under their protection, who
gave the glamour of their approval to every new result of the never-ending
quarrels of succession, until in the beginning of the sixteenth century
Egypt, together with so many other lands, was swallowed up by the Turkish
conqueror.

These new rulers, who added the Byzantine Empire to Islâm, who with Egypt
brought Southern and Western Arabia with the Holy Cities also under their
authority, and caused all the neighbouring princes, Moslim and Christian
alike, to tremble on their thrones, thought it was time to abolish the
senseless survival of the Abbasid glory. The prestige of the Ottomans was
as great as that of the Khalifate in its most palmy days had been; and they
would not be withheld from the assumption of the title. There is a doubtful
tale of the abdication of the Abbasids in their favour, but the question
is of no importance. The Ottomans owed their Khalifate to their sword; and
this was the only argument used by such canonists as thought it worth their
while to bring such an incontestable fact into reconciliation with the law.
This was not strictly necessary, as they had been accustomed for eight
centuries to acquiesce in all sorts of unlawful acts which history
demonstrated to be the will of Allah.

The sense of the tradition that established descent from the tribe of
Qoraish as necessary for the highest dignity in the community was capable
of being weakened by explanation; and, even without that, the leadership of
the irresistible Ottomans was of more value to Islâm than the chimerical
authority of a powerless Qoraishite. In our own time, you can hear
Qoraishites, and even Alids, warmly defend the claims of the Turkish
sultans to the Khalifate, as they regard these as the only Moslim princes
capable of championing the threatened rights of Islâm.

Even the sultans of Stambul could not think of restoring the authority of
the Khalîf over the whole Mohammedan world. This was prevented not only
by the schismatic kingdoms, khalifates, or imâmates like Shî'itic Persia,
which was consolidated just in the sixteenth century, by the unceasing
opposition of the Imâms of Yemen, and Khârijite principalities at the
extremities of the Mohammedan world. Besides these, there were numerous
princes in Central Asia, in India, and in Central Africa, whom either the
Khalifate had always been obliged to leave to themselves, or who had become
so estranged from it that, unless they felt the power of the Turkish arms,
they preferred to remain as they were. Moreover, Islâm had extended itself
not only by political means, but also by trade and colonization into
countries even the existence of which was hardly known in the political
centres of Islâm, e.g., into Central Africa or the Far East of Asia.
Without thinking of rivalling the Abbasids or their successors, some of the
princes of such remote kingdoms, e.g., the sherîfs of Morocco, assumed the
title of Commander of the Faithful, bestowed upon them by their flatterers.
Today, there are petty princes in East India under Dutch sovereignty who
decorate themselves with the title of Khalîf, without suspecting that they
are thereby guilty of a sort of arrogant blasphemy.

Such exaggeration is not supported by the canonists; but these have devised
a theory, which gives a foundation to the authority of Mohammedan princes,
who never had a real or fictitious connection with a real or fictitious
Khalifate. Authority there must be, everywhere and under all circumstances;
far from the centre this should be exercised, according to them, by the
one who has been able to gain it and who knows how to hold it; and all the
duties are laid upon him, which, in a normal condition, would be discharged
by the Khalîf or his representative. For this kind of authority the
legists have even invented a special name: "_shaukah,_" which means actual
influence, the authority which has spontaneously arisen in default of a
chief who in one form or another can be considered as a mandatary of the
Khalifate.

Now, it is significant that many of those Mohammedan governors, who owe
their existence to wild growth in this way, seek, especially in our day,
for connection with the Khalifate, or, at least, wish to be regarded as
naturally connected with the centre. The same is true of such whose former
independence or adhesion to the Turkish Empire has been replaced by the
sovereignty of a Western state. Even amongst the Moslim peoples placed
under the direct government of European states a tendency prevails to be
considered in some way or another subjects of the Sultan-Khalîf. Some
scholars explain this phenomenon by the spiritual character which the
dignity of Khalîf is supposed to have acquired under the later Abbasids,
and retained since that time, until the Ottoman princes combined it again
with the temporal dignity of sultan. According to this view the later
Abbasids were a sort of popes of Islâm; while the temporal authority, in
the central districts as well as in the subordinate kingdoms, was in the
hands of various sultans. The sultans of Constantinople govern, then, under
this name, as much territory as the political vicissitudes allow them to
govern--_i.e._, the Turkish Empire; as khalîfs, they are the spiritual
heads of the whole of Sunnite Islâm.

Though this view, through the ignorance of European statesmen and
diplomatists, may have found acceptance even by some of the great powers,
it is nevertheless entirely untrue; unless by "spiritual authority" we are
to understand the empty appearance of worldly authority. This appearance
was all that the later Abbasids retained after the loss of their temporal
power; spiritual authority of any kind they never possessed.

The spiritual authority in catholic Islâm reposes in the legists, who in
this respect are called in a tradition the _"heirs of the prophets."_ Since
they could no longer regard the khalîfs as their leaders, because they
walked in worldly ways, they have constituted themselves independently
beside and even above them; and the rulers have been obliged to conclude a
silent contract with them, each party binding itself to remain within its
own limits.[1] If this contract be observed, the legists not only are ready
to acknowledge the bad rulers of the world, but even to preach loyalty
towards them to the laity.

The most supremely popular part of the ideal of Islâm, the reduction of
the whole world to Moslim authority, can only be attempted by a political
power. Notwithstanding the destructive criticism of all Moslim princes and
state officials by the canonists, it was only from them that they could
expect measures to uphold and extend the power of Islâm; and on this
account they continually cherished the ideal of the Khalifate.

[Footnote 1: That the Khalifate is in no way to be compared with the
Papacy, that Islâm has never regarded the Khalif as its spiritual head, I
have repeatedly explained since 1882 (in "Nieuwe Bijdragen tot de kennis
van den Islam," in _Bijdr. tot de Taal, Landen Volkenkunde van Nederl.
Indië_, Volgr. 4, Deel vi, in an article, "De Islam," in _De Gids_, May,
1886, in _Questions Diplomatiques et Coloniales_, 5me année, No. 106,
etc.). I am pleased to find the same views expressed by Prof. M. Hartmann
in _Die Welt des Islams_, Bd. i., pp. 147-8.]

In the first centuries it was the duty of Mohammedans who had become
isolated, and who had for instance been conquered by "unbelievers," to do
_"hijrah," i.e._, emigration for Allah's sake, as the converted Arabs had
done in Mohammed's time by emigrating to Medina to strengthen the ranks of
the Faithful. This soon became impracticable, so that the legists relaxed
the prescription by concessions to "the force of necessity." Resignation
was thus permitted, even recommended; but the submission to non-Musulmans
was always to be regarded as temporary and abnormal. Although the _partes
infidelium_ have grown larger and larger, the eye must be kept fixed upon
the centre, the Khalifate, where every movement towards improvement must
begin. A Western state that admits any authority of a khalîf over its
Mohammedan subjects, thus acknowledges, _not_ the authority of a pope of
the Moslim Church, but in simple ignorance is feeding political programs,
which, however vain, always have the power of stirring Mohammedan masses to
confusion and excitement.

Of late years Mohammedan statesmen in their intercourse with their Western
colleagues are glad to take the latter's point of view; and, in discussion,
accept the comparison of the Khalifate with the Papacy, because they are
aware that only in this form the Khalifate can be made acceptable to powers
who have Mohammedan subjects. But for these subjects the Khalif is then
their true prince, who is temporarily hindered in the exercise of his
government, but whose right is acknowledged even by their unbelieving
masters.

In yet another respect the canonists need the aid of the temporal rulers.
An alert police is counted by them amongst the indispensable means of
securing purity of doctrine and life. They count it to the credit of
princes and governors that they enforced by violent measures seclusion and
veiling of the women, abstinence from drinking, and that they punished by
flogging the negligent with regard to fasting or attending public worship.
The political decay of Islâm, the increasing number of Mohammedans under
foreign rule, appears to them, therefore, doubly dangerous, as they have
little faith in the proof of Islam's spiritual goods against life in a
freedom which to them means license.

They find that every political change, in these terrible times, is to the
prejudice of Islâm, one Moslim people after another losing its independent
existence; and they regard it as equally dangerous that Moslim princes are
induced to accommodate their policy and government to new international
ideas of individual freedom, which threaten the very life of Islâm. They
see the antagonism to all foreign ideas, formerly considered as a virtue
by every true Moslim, daily losing ground, and they are filled with
consternation by observing in their own ranks the contamination of
modernist ideas. The brilliant development of the system of Islâm followed
the establishment of its material power; so the rapid decline of that
political power which we are witnessing makes the question urgent, whether
Islâm has a spiritual essence able to survive the fall of such a material
support. It is certainly not the canonists who will detect the kernel;
"verily we are God's and verily to Him do we return," they cry in helpless
amazement, and their consolation is in the old prayer: "And lay not on us,
O our Lord, that for which we have no strength, but blot out our sins and
forgive us and have mercy upon us. Thou art our Master; grant us then to
conquer the Unbelievers!"