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independence or adhesion to the Turkish Empire has been replaced by the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!"
IV
ISLÂM AND MODERN THOUGHT
One of the most powerful factors of religious life in its higher forms is
the need of man to find in this world of changing things an imperishable
essence, to separate the eternal from the temporal and then to attach
himself to the former. Where the possibility of this operation is despaired
of, there may arise a pessimism, which finds no path of liberation from the
painful vicissitudes of life other than the annihilation of individuality.
A firm belief in a sphere of life freed from the category of time, together
with the conviction that the poetic images of that superior world current
among mankind are images and nothing else, is likely to give rise to
definitions of the Absolute by purely negative attributes and to mental
efforts having for their object the absorption of individual existence
in the indescribable infinite. Generally speaking, a high development of
intellectual life, especially an intimate acquaintance with different
religious systems, is not favourable to the continuance of elaborate
conceptions of things eternal; it will rather increase the tendency to
deprive the idea of the Transcendent of all colour and definiteness.
The naïve ideas concerning the other world in the clear-cut form outlined
for them by previous generations are most likely to remain unchanged in a
religious community where intellectual intercourse is chiefly limited to
that between members of the community. There the belief is fostered that
things most appreciated and cherished in this fading world by mankind will
have an enduring existence in a world to come, and that the best of the
changing phenomena of life are eternal and will continue free from that
change, which is the principal cause of human misery. Material death will
be followed by awakening to a purer life, the idealized continuation of
life on earth, and for this reason already during this life the faithful
will find their delight in those things which they know to be everlasting.
The less faith is submitted to the control of intellect, the more numerous
the objects will be to which durable value is attributed. This is true for
different individuals as well as for one religious community as compared to
another. There are Christians attached only to the spirit of the Gospel,
Mohammedans attached only to the spirit of the Qorân. Others give a place
in their world of imperishable things to a particular translation of the
Bible in its old-fashioned orthography or to a written Qorân in preference
to a printed one. Orthodox Judaism and orthodox Islâm have marked with the
stamp of eternity codes of law, whose influence has worked as an impediment
to the life of the adherents of those religions and to the free intercourse
of other people with them as well. So the Roman Catholic and many
Protestant Churches have in their organizations and in their dogmatic
systems eternalized institutions and ideas whose unchangeableness has come
to retard spiritual progress.
Among all conservative factors of human life religion must necessarily be
the most conservative, were it only because its aim is precisely to store
up and keep under its guardianship the treasures destined for eternity to
which we have alluded. Now, every new period in the history of civilization
obliges a religious community to undertake a general revision of the
contents of its treasury. It is unavoidable that the guardians on such
occasions should be in a certain measure disappointed, for they find that
some of, the goods under their care have given way to the wasting influence
of time, whilst others are in a state which gives rise to serious doubt as
to their right of being classified with lasting treasures. In reality the
loss is only an apparent one; far from impoverishing the community, it
enhances the solidity of its possessions. What remains after the sifting
process may be less imposing to the inexperienced mind; gradually the
consideration gains ground that what has been rejected was nothing but
useless rubbish which had been wrongly valued.
Sometimes it may happen that the general movement of spiritual progress
goes almost too fast, so that one revision of the stores of religion is
immediately followed by another. Then dissension is likely to arise among
the adherents of a religion; some of them come to the conclusion that there
must be an end of sifting and think it better to lock up the treasuries
once for all and to stop the dangerous enquiries; whereas others begin to
entertain doubt concerning the value even of such goods as do not yet show
any trace of decay.
The treasuries of Islâm are excessively full of rubbish that has become
entirely useless; and for nine or ten centuries they have not been
submitted to a revision deserving that name. If we wish to understand the
whole or any important part of the system of Islâm, we must always begin by
transporting ourselves into the third or fourth century of the Hijrah, and
we must constantly bear in mind that from the Medina period downwards Islâm
has always been considered by its adherents as bound to regulate all the
details of their life by means of prescriptions emanating directly or
indirectly from God, and therefore incapable of being reformed. At the
time when these prescriptions acquired their definite form, Islâm ruled an
important portion of the world; it considered the conquest of the rest
as being only a question of time; and, therefore, felt itself quite
independent in the development of its law. There was little reason indeed
for the Moslim canonists to take into serious account the interests of men
not subject to Mohammedan authority or to care for the opinion of devotees
of other religions. Islâm might act, and did almost act, as if it were the
only power in the world; it did so in the way of a grand seigneur, showing
a great amount of generosity towards its subjugated enemies. The adherents
of other religions were or would become subjects of the Commander of the
Faithful; those subjects were given a full claim on Mohammedan protection
and justice; while the independent unbelievers were in general to be
treated as enemies until in submission. Their spiritual life deserved not
even so much attention as that of Islâm received from Abbé Maracci or
Doctor Prideaux. The false doctrines of other peoples were of no interest
whatever in themselves; and, since there was no fear of Mohammedans being
tainted by them, polemics against the abrogated religions were more of a
pastime than an indispensable part of theology. The Mohammedan community
being in a sense Allah's army, with the conquest of the world as its
object, apostasy deserved the punishment of death in no lesser degree than
desertion in the holy war, nay more so; for the latter might be the effect
of cowardice, whereas the former was an act of inexcusable treachery.
In the attitude of Islâm towards other religions there is hardly one
feature that has not its counterpart in the practice of Christian states
during the Middle Ages. The great difference is that the Mohammedan
community erected this medieval custom into a system unalterable like all
prescriptions based on its infallible "Agreement" (Ijmâ'). Here lay the
great difficulty when the nineteenth and twentieth centuries placed the
Moslim world face to face with a civilization that had sprung up outside
its borders and without its collaboration, that was from a spiritual point
of view by far its superior and at the same time possessed of sufficient
material power to thrust the Mohammedans aside wherever they seemed to be
an impediment in its way. A long series of the most painful experiences,
meaning as many encroachments upon the political independence of Mohammedan
territories, ended by teaching Islâm that it had definitely to change its
lines of conduct. The times were gone when relations with the non-Musulman
world quite different from those foreseen by the mediaeval theory might
be considered as exceptions to the rule, as temporary concessions to
transitory necessities. In ever wider circles a thorough revision of the
system came to be considered as a requirement of the time. The fact that
the number of Mohammedans subject to foreign rule increased enormously, and
by far surpassed those of the citizens of independent Mohammedan states,
made the problem almost as interesting to Western nations as to the
Mohammedans themselves. Both parties are almost equally concerned in the
question, whether a way will be found to associate the Moslim world to
modern civilization, without obliging it to empty its spiritual treasury
altogether. Nobody can in earnest advocate the idea of leaving the solution
of the problem to rude force. The Moslim of yore, going through the world
with the Qorân in one hand, the sword in the other, giving unbelievers the
choice between conversion or death, is a creation of legendary fancy. We
can but hope that modern civilization will not be so fanatical against
Moslims, as the latter were unjustly said to have been during the period
of their power. If the modern world were only to offer the Mohammedans the
choice between giving up at once the traditions of their ancestors or being
treated as barbarians, there would be sure to ensue a struggle as bloody as
has ever been witnessed in the world. It is worth while indeed to examine
the system of Islâm from this special point of view, and to try to find the
terms on which a durable _modus vivendi_ might be established between Islâm
and modern thought.
The purely dogmatic part is not of great importance. Some of us may admire
the tenets of the Mohammedan doctrine, others may as heartily despise them;
to the participation of Mohammedans in the civilized life of our days they
are as innoxious as any other mediaeval dogmatic system that counts its
millions of adherents among ourselves. The details of Mohammedan dogmatics
have long ceased to interest other circles than those of professional
theologians; the chief points arouse no discussion and the deviations in
popular superstition as well as in philosophical thought which in practice
meet with toleration are almost unlimited. The Mohammedan Hell claims
the souls of all heterodox people, it is true; but this does not prevent
benevolent intercourse in this world, and more enlightened Moslims are
inclined to enlarge their definition of the word "faithful" so as to
include their non-Mohammedan friends. The faith in a Mahdî, who will come
to regenerate the world, is apt to give rise to revolutionary movements led
by skilful demagogues pretending to act as the "Guided One," or, at least,
to prepare the way for his coming. Most of the European powers having
Mohammedan subjects have had their disagreeable experiences in this
respect. But Moslim chiefs of states have their obvious good reasons for
not liking such movements either; and even the majority of ordinary Moslims
look upon candidates for Mahdi-ship with suspicion. A contented prosperous
population offers such candidates little chance of success.
The ritual laws of Islâm are a heavy burden to those who strictly observe
them; a man who has to perform worship five times a day in a state of
ritual purity and during a whole month in a year has to abstain from
food and drink and other enjoyments from daybreak until sunset, is at a
disadvantage when he has to enter into competition with non-Musulmans
for getting work of any kind. But since most of the Moslims have become
subjects of foreign powers and religious police has been practically
abolished in Mohammedan states, there is no external compulsion. The ever
smaller minority of strict practisers make use of a right which nobody can
contest.
Drinking wine or other intoxicating drinks, taking interest on money,
gambling--including even insurance contracts according to the stricter
interpretation--are things which a Moslim may abstain from without
hindering non-Mohammedans; or which in our days he may do, notwithstanding
the prohibition of divine law, even without losing his good name.
Those who want to accentuate the antithesis between Islâm and modern
civilization point rightly to the personal law; here is indeed a great
stumbling-block. The allowance of polygamy up to a maximum of four wives
is represented by Mohammedan authors as a progress if compared with the
irregularity of pagan Arabia and even with the acknowledgment of unlimited
polygamy during certain periods of Biblical history. The following subtle
argument is to be found in some schoolbooks on Mohammedan law: The law of
Moses was exceedingly benevolent to males by permitting them to have an
unlimited number of wives; then came the law of Jesus, extreme on the other
side by prescribing monogamy; at last Mohammed restored the equilibrium by
conceding one wife to each of the four humours which make up the male's
constitution. This theory, which leaves the question what the woman is
to do with three of her four humours undecided, will hardly find fervent
advocates among the present canonists. At the same time, very few of them
would venture to pronounce their preference for monogamy in a general way,
polygamy forming a part of the law that is to prevail, according to the
infallible Agreement of the Community, until the Day of Resurrection.
On the other side polygamy, although _allowed_, is far from being
_recommended_ by the majority of theologians. Many of them even dissuade
men capable of mastering their passion from marriage in general, and
censure a man who takes two wives if he can live honestly with one. In some
Mohammedan countries social circumstances enforce practical monogamy. The
whole question lies in the education of women; when this has been raised to
a higher level, polygamy will necessarily come to an end. It is therefore
most satisfactory that among male Mohammedans the persuasion of the
necessity of a solid education for girls is daily gaining ground. This year
(1913), a young Egyptian took his doctor's degree at the Paris University
by sustaining a dissertation on the position of women in the Moslim world,
in which he told his co-religionists the full truth concerning this rather
delicate subject[1]. If social evolution takes the right course, the
practice of polygamy will be abolished; and the maintenance of its
lawfulness in canonical works will mainly be a survival of a bygone phase
of development.
[Footnote 1: Mansour Fahmy, _La condition de la femme dans la tradition
et l'évolution de l'Islamisme_, Paris, Félix Alcan, 1913. The sometimes
imprudent form in which the young reformer enounced his ideas caused him to
be very badly treated by his compatriots at his return from Europe.]
The facility with which a man can divorce his wife at his pleasure,
contrasted with her rights against him, is a still more serious impediment
to the development of family life than the institution of polygamy; more
serious, also, than veiling and seclusion of women. Where the general
opinion is favourable to the improvement of the position of women in
society, there is always found a way to secure it to them without
conflicting with the divine law; but a radical reform will remain most
difficult so long as that law which allows the man to repudiate his wife
without any reason, whereas it delivers the woman almost unarmed into the
power of her husband, is considered to be one of the permanent treasures of
Islâm.