Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism: A History of Sufi-Futuwwat in Iran 2009046176, 0203851609, 9780415544344, 9780203851609, 0415544343

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Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism: A History of Sufi-Futuwwat in Iran
 2009046176, 0203851609, 9780415544344, 9780203851609, 0415544343

Table of contents :
Book Cover
Title
Copyright
Contents
Tables and figures
Acknowledgements
Introduction
1 The origins of futuwwat: Muruwwat and the ethics of the ‘ayyaran
2 Futuwwat and early Persian Sufism
3 Institutionalisation within the Sufi-futuwwat associations during the twelfth to fourteenth centuries
4 Timurid futuwwat: The case of Husayn Wa‘iz Kashifi
5 Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era: Qalandar and Khaksar jawanmardi
6 Futuwwat in the modern era: The zurkhana between tradition and change
Bibliography
Index: Technical terms
Index: Names of people, places, dynasties, etc
Index: Names of books and films

Citation preview

Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism A history of Sufi-futuwwat in Iran

Sufism is often understood to be the mystical dimension of Islam, and many works have focused on the nature of “mystical experiences” and the relationship between man and God. Sufism, however, was a human response to a wide range of contexts and circumstances; the fact that Sufis lived in society and interacted with the community necessitating guidance on how to behave in the world. This book examines the development of Persian Sufism, showing it to be a practical philosophy of the everyday rather than just a metaphysical phenomenon. The author explores the ethic of futuwwat (or jawAnmardC ), an Iranian code of honour that emphasised loyalty, humility, generosity and bravery. Although inevitably some Sufis spiritualised this code of honour and applied it to their own relationship with God, the ethic continued to permeate Sufi behaviour on a more mundane level, typified by the strong links between Sufis and certain trades. The book investigates the origin of Sufi-futuwwat, in particular with reference to the “ayyArAn, and it proceeds to examine the institutionalisation of the ethic by analysing its rules and describing the meeting places of members and the different kinds of initiation. Moreover the relationship of futuwwat with “Sufi” groups such as the Malamatcs and the Qalandar is examined, as is the nature of futuwwat in the zurkhana in the modern period. Drawing on field research in Iran, as well as detailed analysis of both Arabic and Persian texts and new materials that have been published in Iran in recent years, this is the first book in English to provide a history of Persian Sufifutuwwat. As such, this book is an important contribution to the study of Persian Sufism, and to the fields of Islam, history and religion. Lloyd Ridgeon is Reader in Islamic Studies at the University of Glasgow. He teaches courses on classical Islamic Studies, modern Iran and modern Islamic thought, and his research interests include Sufism, Iranian history and culture, Iranian cinema and Islamic theology. His most recent publications include Sufi Castigator (Routledge, 2007), Religion and Politics in Modern Iran (I.B. Tauris, 2006), Sufism: Critical Concepts (4 volumes; Routledge, 2008) and Iranian Intellectuals 1997–2007 (Routledge, 2008).

Routledge Sufi series General Editor: Ian Richard Netton Professor of Islamic Studies, University of Exeter

The Routledge Sufi Series provides short introductions to a variety of facets of the subject, which are accessible both to the general reader and the student and scholar in the field. Each book will be either a synthesis of existing knowledge or a distinct contribution to, and extension of, knowledge of the particular topic. The two major underlying principles of the Series are sound scholarship and readability.

Previously published by Curzon Al-Hallaj Herbert I.W. Mason Beyond Faith and Infidelity The Sufi poetry and teaching of Mahmud Shabistari Leonard Lewisham Ruzbihan Baqli Mysticism and the rhetoric of sainthood in Persian Sufism Carl W. Ernst Abdullah Ansari of Herat An early Sufi master A.G. Ravan Farhadi The Concept of Sainthood in Early Islamic Mysticism Bernd Radtke and John O’Kane Suhrawardi and the School of Illumination Mehdi Amin Razavi Persian Sufi Poetry An introduction to the mystical use of classical poems J.T.P. de Bruijn Aziz Nasafi Lloyd Ridgeon Sufis and Anti-Sufis The defence, rethinking and rejection of Sufism in the modern world Elizabeth Sirriyeh

Sufi Ritual The parallel universe Ian Richard Netton Divine Love in Islamic Mysticism The teachings of al-Ghâzalî and al-Dabbâgh Binyamin Abrahamov Striving for Divine Union Spiritual exercises for Suhrawardi Sufis Qamar-ul Huda Revelation, Intellectual Intuition and Reason in the Philosophy of Mulla Sadra An analysis of the al-hikmah al-’arshiyyah Zailan Moris

Published by Routledge 1. Muslim Saints of South Asia The eleventh to fifteenth centuries Anna Suvorova 2. A Psychology of Early Sufi Sama Listening and altered states Kenneth S. Avery 3. Sufi Visionary of Ottoman Damascus ‘Abd al-Ghani al-Nabulusi, 1641–1731 Elizabeth Sirriyeh 4. Early Mystics in Turkish Literature Mehmed Fuad Koprulu Translated, Edited and with an Introduction by Gary Leiser & Robert Dankoff 5. Indian Sufism since the Seventeenth Century Saints, books and empires in the Muslim Deccan Nile Green 6. Sufi Castigator Ahmad Kasravi and the Iranian mystical tradition Lloyd Ridgeon 7. Popular Sufism in Eastern Europe Sufi brotherhoods and the dialogue with Christianity and ‘heterodoxy’ H.T. Norris 8. The Naqshbandiyya Orthodoxy and activism in a worldwide Sufi tradition Itzchak Weismann 9. Sufis in Western Society Global networking and locality Edited by Ron Geaves, Markus Dressler and Gritt Klinkhammer 10. Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism A history of Sufi-futuwwat in Iran Lloyd Ridgeon

Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism A history of Sufi-futuwwat in Iran

Lloyd Ridgeon

First published 2010 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business

This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2010. To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk. © 2010 Lloyd Ridgeon All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Ridgeon, Lloyd V. J. Morals and mysticism in Persian Sufism : a history of Sufi-futuwwat in Iran / Lloyd Ridgeon. p. cm. – (Routledge Sufi series; 10) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Sufism–Iran–History. 2. Mysticism–Islam–Iran–History. I. Title. BP188.8.I55R53 2010 297.40955–dc22 2009046176 ISBN 0-203-85160-9 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 13: 978-0-415-54434-4 (hbk) ISBN 13: 978-0-203-85160-9 (ebk) ISBN 10: 0-415-54434-3 (hbk) ISBN 10: 0-203-85160-9 (ebk)

For my own little Jaw!nmard, Felix

Contents

List of tables and figures Acknowledgements Introduction 1

The origins of futuwwat: muruwwat and the ethics of the “ayyArAn

x xii 1

5

2

Futuwwat and early Persian Sufism

28

3

Institutionalisation within the Sufi-futuwwat associations during the twelfth to fourteenth centuries

61

4

Timurid futuwwat: the case of rusayn Wa‘iz Kashifc

92

5

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era: Qalandar and Khaksar jawAnmardC

123

Futuwwat in the modern era: the zErkhAna between tradition and change

166

Bibliography Index: Technical terms Index: Names of people, places, dynasties, etc Index: Names of books and films

210 220 222 226

6

Tables and figures

Tables 5.1 Structure of initiation ceremony of ‘Ajam Sufis 6.1 List of zErkhAnas in Iran over the past 125 years

153 182

Figures 4.1 Names of the belts 4.2 Names of the ties 6.1 “Athletes” warming up in the pit (gawd) in a zurkhAna in South Tehran 6.2 The door to the entrance of the zurkhAna 6.3 The “shina” exercise 6.4 The “sang” 6.5 Spinning (charkh) 6.6 Kabada 6.7 An image of a “zErkhAna,” from the works of Carsten Nieburh 6.8 Image of zErkhAna sports being performed in front of Naxir al-Dcn Shah 6.9 Poster advertising the “First International Zurkhaneh Sports Festival of the Urbans of the World” 6.10 The zErkhAna built in Tajikestan 6.11 Poster of Imam ‘Alc showing his famous sword 6.12 Rostrum of the zErkhAna with the highly stylised symbol of the Islamic testament of faith above the murshid 6.13 Rostrum showing the more traditional white feathers 6.14 An elaborately decorated zErkhAna, with many images of a Shi‘ite nature 6.15 An elaborately decorated zErkhAna, with many images of a Shi‘ite nature 6.16 A rostrum from a zErkhAna in Kashan, which has much Sufi symbolism, including an axe and kashkEl (begging bowl)

103 104 168 171 173 174 175 176 177 178 184 189 191 192 193 194 194 196

Tables and figures xi 6.17 The interior of the zErkhAna in Tajikestan 6.18 Exterior of the zErkhAna in Tajikestan 6.19 Poster commemorating the death of Takhtc (“Oh candle of a night gone by! How come you are still burning bright?”) 6.20 Poster containing multi-vocal symbolism

198 198 202 203

Acknowledgements

I would like to express my gratitude to Houshang Chehabi, Paul Luft, Azam Torab and Richard Gauvain for reading a provisional version of Chapter 6, and for their astute observations and suggestions. Of course any inaccuracies and all opinions expressed are my own. I was sorry to hear recently that Mr Tabarruki had passed away in Tehran. His help in explaining elements of the rituals studied in Chapter 6, and his kindness during my field research, made writing this piece on the zErkhAna possible. I am also grateful to Seyyid Amir Hosseini who welcomed my research on the zErkhAna, and opened many doors and arranged for several memorable encounters related to the topic. Chapter 6 was originally published in 2007, in Iran: Journal of the British Institute of Persian Studies (vol. XLV, pp. 243–65). I am grateful to BIPS for allowing me to re-publish this article, in a slightly modified fashion, here and for funding aspects of this research. This project has been assisted by the articles and books of Mihran Afshari, whose endeavours in editing and publishing a number of short, anonymous texts relating to jawAnmardC and the aXnAf have promoted the understanding of medieval Persian Sufism. My research trips to Iran turned out to be very fruitful, and Mihran was generous with his time and extensive knowledge of the field. The extent of my debt in this respect is evident by looking at the footnotes to Chapter 5, the majority of which reference treatises that he has edited. I should also mention Dr Keyvani, who once again offered much assistance, in particular with helping to fathom Kashifc’s intricate Persian prose in his RisAla-yi RAtim al-TA”i. This project was assisted by the generosity of the AHRC. The AHRC funds postgraduate training and research in the arts and humanities, from archaeology and English literature to design and dance. The quality and range of research that was supported not only provides social and cultural benefits but also contributes to the economic success of the UK. For further information on the AHRC, please see the website: www.ahrc.ac.uk

Introduction

The concept of jawAnmardC has attracted exceedingly limited scholarly attention despite its significant contribution to the creation of Iranian identities. Anyone acquainted with Iran appreciates the complex mixture of identities, ranging from nationalist, Shi‘ite and Sufi, and combinations of all three. The intricacy of these structures is manifested through the shared concept of jawAnmardC, and appears in literature such as the ShAhnAma (considered by many to promote Persian nationalism), in the hagiographies and legends of the Shc‘ite Imams and in Sufi poetry and prose, yet it would be wrong to consider such works as mutually exclusive. In any case, an all-embracing survey of jawAnmardC would of necessity have to focus on these three dimensions of Iranian identity, and such a project would understandably be a lifetime’s project. For this reason, the present monograph focuses only upon jawAnmardC in the Persian Sufi tradition. JawAnmardC (or its Arabic equivalent, futuwwat) has been studied in its Arabic and Ottoman forms by F. Taeschner and Cl. Cahen, and both have analysed the Sufi aspects of this tradition. Persian Sufi jawAnmardC has been examined by Henri Corbin in his “Juvénilité et chevalerie en Islam iranien,”1 yet the social dimensions of jawAnmardC were not explored sufficiently. The primary literature on the Persian Sufi tradition of jawAnmardC is vast,2 and perhaps this is one of the reasons for the apparent scholarly reluctance to engage with the topic. Simply deciding what to include and what to exclude from a regular-sized monograph is far from an easy challenge. Added to this are other obstacles facing researchers, including the difficulty of deciphering the specific terminology, and fathoming the complexities and grammatical irregularities of medieval treatises and poetry. Despite the challenges enumerated above, and also because of the absence of a study that grounds Sufism in social realities, I have long desired to embark on a project that investigated jawAnmardC. I decided that even a basic chronological account of some aspects of Persian futuwwat would be of some benefit to academics and students, and so having cleared my desk of minor projects, rejected all other offers and requests, and secured a sabbatical and an additional period of study leave (thanks to the AHRC), I set out to complete this project. The structure of the present work is straightforward

2

Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism

because it presents a more or less chronological account of the major contours and developments of jawAnmardC in the Persian Sufi tradition. Commencing with an investigation into the origins of futuwwat/jawAnmardC in both the Sassanian and Qur’anic traditions, the survey quickly moves to investigate the “brigands” or “ayyArAn (typified in the life of Ya‘qeb ibn al-Layth and Neh the “ayyAr) and their connection with the Malamatc Sufis of Khorasan. Even at this very early period of Sufi history it is of interest to note that there are hints that the concern for Sufi ethics locates Sufism within society rather than on its shoulders, that is, in contemplating God. While much of the market for books on Sufism in recent years has focused on “pure mysticism”, that is to say, the mystic’s purported experiences, or the ontological relationship between man and God, very little has been published concerning the social history of Sufism. A study on jawAnmardC must concern itself with those whose feet are firmly placed on the ground, and so it is not surprising that the chapters of this monograph return time and time again to the bazaar or market place, in an attempt to show that Sufism was just as much concerned with an ethical dimension, by promoting certain standards, or regulations for communal living, or advice to be given to kings, as with more “spiritual” concerns with the divine. Having said this, it is of course difficult to differentiate the ethical from the purely spiritual, and this is nowhere more apparent than in the discussions of jawAnmardC/futuwwat by the eleventh, twelfth and thirteenth centuries when the ethical topic was discussed and “spiritualised” by three celebrated Sufis, Sulamc, Kharaqanc and Ibn ‘Arabc. This is the focus of the second chapter, and reveals just how much jawAnmardC had become a feature of Sufi discourse by this period. Sulamc’s relationship with the Malamatcs (who are also discussed in Chapter 1) is intriguing because of their supposed close links to the common people, and it is noteworthy that this group originated in Khorasan, where Sulamc probably composed his book on futuwwat (the first substantial treatise on the topic). The connection with the ethics and spirituality of the common person is subsequently continued in Chapter 2 with an analysis of Kharaqanc’s ideas about jawAnmardC, for this Sufi is generally regarded as having no substantial education, and seems to have shunned, or at least not sought out, learned and intellectual discourse. Yet, it would be wrong to assume that futuwwat was the ethical and spiritual dimension of the working classes or underprivileged, as the topic was adopted by Ibn ‘Arabc, who is considered by many the most sophisticated and original Sufi thinker of his age. Yet perhaps the most significant development relating to jawAnmardC in the medieval period was its adoption by the ‘Abbasid Caliph, al-Naxir, and then by his spiritual mentor, Suhrawardc, which is discussed in Chapter 3. The attempts of the latter to popularise jawAnmardC reflect his form of sober, YarCqa Sufism, although many of the features of jawAnmardC, such as the silsila, and the terminology used for the member, pre-dated Suhrawardc. It is ironic that although Suhrawardc attempted to increase the appeal of his Sufism by universalising the tradition through futuwwat, its regulations and

Introduction

3

courtesies appear just as rigorous and difficult to observe as those of YarCqa Sufism. One of the most important contributions made by Suhrawardc was the respectability that he bestowed on jawAnmardC. From his time onwards at least until the Safavid period, it seems that the institutions of jawAnmardC and Sufism were intertwined, both endorsing what are considered to be usual Sufi rituals, such as the samA“. However, the initiation rituals suggest that there was a distinct identify for jawAnmardC groups, and perhaps even a particularisation within this tradition among certain occupations. The popularity and growth of futuwwat after Suhrawardc can be demonstrated with reference to the travel writings of Ibn Bayyeya and the compositions of hagiographers, which indicate that futuwwat lodges sprung up everywhere in Anatolia and Iran. A second important element of Suhrawardc’s writings is the respect and veneration bestowed upon ‘Alc. Although Suhrawardc was a Sunni, the space that he devoted to ‘Alc as a “patron saint” of futuwwat was certainly conducive in subsequent periods to the development and growth of Shc‘ism in Iran. Indeed, the Persian futuwwat literature after Suhrawardc built on this deep veneration for ‘Alc, and may be considered one of the factors that facilitated the gradual adoption of Shc‘ism in Iran even before the emergence of the Safavid state in the sixteenth century when it established Shc‘ism as the “national” denomination. The futuwwat lodges that appeared in the post-Suhrawardc period in Anatolia and Iran required a financial grounding, and the connection between Sufism, futuwwat and the bazaar becomes clearer by the Timurid period. Chapter 4 provides a case study of the late Timurid period by investigating the works on futuwwat of the celebrated Sufi, Wa‘iz-i Kashifc. His futuwwat nAma-yi sulYAnC clearly provides the link between futuwwat and the bazaar and the various trades therein, and the linkage is made too with the Sufi tradition. Yet it would be incorrect to assume that Sufism and jawAnmardC were ethical worldviews held only by the poor, destitute and manual workers. Kashifc’s treatise on ratim ta’c indicates that it was also a concern of the educated, aristocratic classes. Chapter 5 assesses the legacy of futuwwat in Safavid Iran by analysing the fortunes of the Qalandar Sufis, whose worldview bears striking similarity to that of certain trades, most notably that of the barbers. Indeed, it is suggested that during the Safavid era, perhaps as a result of the anti-Sufi perspectives of the authorities, some Qalandars may have assimilated into the ranks of the ordinary tradesmen. The Qalandar worldview, with its close connections with the trades, did not vanish along with the Safavids. Rather, the same sort of ethical worldview, with the very same themes, appears in the literature of Khaksar dervishes who flourished in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The ties with occupations are made explicit with the description of initiation ceremonies into Sufism, which demanded the presence of the elders of specific trades. With the onset of modernity in nineteenth-century Iran, Sufism, and Sufi-futuwwat, came under criticism from a range of individuals who were

4

Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism

inspired by a European-orientated conception of rationalism and science. Sufi orders do not have the appeal that they once had, and, indeed, the concept of jawAnmardC holds a host of different connotations for modern Iranians. To demonstrate the decline of Sufi-futuwwat, Chapter 6 focuses on the zErkhAna, the place where traditionally wrestling and other so-called “ancientsports” were performed. It is interesting to note that Kashifc spoke of the wrestlers within the same breath as futuwwat and Sufism. However, Chapter 6 shows the absence of any substantial regard for Sufism in the zErkhAna; rather, jawAnmardC is discussed with reference to Iranian nationalism or Shc‘ism. I realise that there will be some who will argue that this is not a comprehensive survey of Persian Sufi-futuwwat, as it does not consider the views of Sufi masters such as Remc, or rafiz’s discussions about the rind (a word which has a similar connotation to the “ayyAr and Qalandar). And some may point to the lack of discussion of or comparison between futuwwat in the Persian world and other Islamic territories. However, it is unfortunate that we live in times in which “success” is partially driven by economic agendas, cycles of Research Assessment Exercises, and publishers who refuse to put out anything over 80,000 words. Time and money are the gods to whom most people bow, and I regret that this work is evidence of this fact. Nevertheless, these gods have permitted a general survey of the field of Persian Sufi-futuwwat, and have allowed new research into a field that demands further investigation. To be continued . . .

Notes 1 See his L”Homme et Son Age, Paris, 1983. 2 Scholarly activity in Iran with the publication of editions of treatises on futuwwat has made the task of the researcher much more interesting, exciting and fruitful, yet, at the same time, accessing these works is not always easy, and the burden of keeping abreast of recent developments in the field can be an arduous task.

1

The origins of futuwwat Muruwwat and the ethics of the “ayyArAn

Introduction The search for the origins of a concept is a perilous task, as it is necessary to ensure that the centuries of accumulated baggage, myth, prejudice and propaganda are jettisoned. Sometimes there is a danger of retrojecting an essentialised and idealised image of the concept which may completely distort the image of the original. It should be stated at the start that it would be incorrect to assume that this research posits a form of futuwwat that is constant and unchanging or which forms the nucleus of an Iranian identity, consciously or otherwise. Patriotic, nationalist Iranians have argued the case for an ethic of futuwwat (or jawAnmardC ) that careers through Iranian history and pre-dates the Islamic invasion of Sassanian Iran.1 While it is true that futuwwat has indeed been an element in Iranian history for the last one thousand years, it has been manifested in diverse forms. Moreover, the Islamic contribution to futuwwat in Iran should not be overlooked, as the medieval Sufi version of futuwwat emerged from a range of traditions that developed over the preceding five hundred years. That is to say, it was not specifically Iranian, Persian, Sassanian, Islamic, or Arab. Persian futuwwat from the tenth century onwards evolved and developed with the influence of all of the above. If caution is necessary regarding the origins of futuwwat the reason for writing on such a topic in the introductory chapter may seem questionable. Despite the lack of clarity concerning its origins, there are certain themes and trends to futuwwat from an early period that most probably informed the later developments in the Persian Sufi tradition from the tenth and eleventh century onwards. To comprehend why the concept was adopted and developed by the Persian Sufis it is necessary to examine its previous context. Links are made in the literature of the Sufis, who frequently discussed futuwwat with muruwwat. Indeed, in some texts of the medieval period the two appear to be synonymous.

Muruwwat The word futuwwat is derived from the Arabic root f.t.a. and from this comes the noun fatA (young man). The word fatA appears in pre-Islamic poetry,

6

Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism

but the more abstract expression futuwwat has yet to be found there.2 PreIslamic poetry reveals that the term fatA conveyed the meaning of a man who “personifies in the most perfect manner the qualities which the tribe asks of its sons – a high degree of solidarity to secure cohesion, courage in war to insure adequate defence, and hospitality to maintain the tribal reputation among the neighbouring tribes.”3 Muruwwat, a word that is semantically close to futuwwat, does feature in pre-Islamic literature. Muruwwat has been rendered as “virtue” by Goldziher, and he remarked that it included all those virtues which, founded in the tradition of his people [i.e. the Arab], constitute the fame of an individual or the tribe to which he belongs; the observance of those duties which are connected with family ties, the relationships of protection and hospitality, and the fulfilment of the great law of blood revenge.4 Nicholson regarded the concept as central to the creation of “an invisible bond between diverse clans, and formed, whether consciously or not, the basis of a national community of sentiment.”5 Muruwwat then was a vital element of self-identity within the Arab community, and is personified well in the life, writings and legends of ratim of ta’c, a Christian from Yemen who lived in the second half of the sixth century, but whose “semi-legendary model”6 of generosity and hospitality continued to be celebrated in the times of Muwammad and beyond.7 His own poetry points to the importance of hospitality and generosity in his actions,8 and he was “traditionally the most finished example of the pre-Islamic knight, always victorious in his undertakings, magnanimous towards the conquered and proverbial for his generosity and hospitality.”9 The virtue of muruwwat was central to the prestige of the clan and tribe, and in this respect it transcended individuality, as Goldziher states, “consideration of the past and the tradition of lineage impel the Arab to practice nobility more than do the hope of and striving for future fame.”10 However, with reference to ratim’s virtue in comparison to other panegyrists, Goldziher added that “we find that it was not free of desire for fame.”11 In a story that appears in the AghAnC,12 ratim entertained some travellers with the whole herd of his father’s camels. He said to his father, “by means of them I have conferred on thee everlasting fame and honour that will cleave to thee like the ring of the ringdove, and men will always bear in mind some verse in poetry in which we are praised.” ratim’s father was none too pleased and abandoned his son alone to his fate.13 Yet ratim’s contribution in promoting the ideal of generosity should not be belittled, especially as he was included as an exemplar of generosity within the stories of the 1001 Nights (which were likely to have been compiled in the ninth century) in a story from the 270th night. Generosity and hospitality were not the sole virtues of the pre-Islamic Arabs, as Nicholson has argued that muruwwat also included individual courage, loyalty to one’s kin and a particular treatment of one’s enemies. This last

The origins of futuwwat

7

point is summed up in Nicholson’s observation that, “He who did not strike back when struck was regarded as a coward.”14 Blood revenge took this last point to its ultimate conclusion, and while there were instances where blood feuds erupted into wars for many years, it appears that the dangers of such cases led to a certain degree of restraint. The concept of muruwwat and the contrast with the religion (dCn) of Islam was the focus of a study by Goldziher, who argued that Muwammad completely transformed some of the traditional Arab understandings of muruwwat. Whereas the pre-Islamic Arabs believed that muruwwat involved loyalty to one’s tribe, Qur’anic teachings stressed equality of believers and the universal applicability of its message that transcended clan and tribe. Moreover, whereas pre-Islamic muruwwat demanded retaliation for insults, an eye for an eye, the Qur’an advocated that evil should be rewarded with something better (24.22), that is, leniency and forgiveness. The importance of the tribe resulted in the practice among some poets of composing verses that were satirical, but Goldziher mentioned an exception, ‘Abda b. al-tabcb (who lived at the advent of Islam), who it is said refused to compose satirical poetry because “he considered its practice base and abstinence from it muruvvat.”15 The ultimate referent was the prestige of the tribe and the clan, and the fame of the individual was secondary, whereas with Islam specific virtues were encouraged which would benefit the whole Islamic community and the individual, but only because of the promise of God’s reward in the next world.16 Loyalty to the tribe was an integral part of muruwwat, indeed, “some of the virtues of muruwwat were tribe orientated, such as wafA”, loyalty to the family and tribe, and karam, extreme generosity, especially towards the poor and needy – mostly orphans and widows – or even self-denial.”17 However, there were cases in which individuals were forced, or chose, to leave, or abandon, the tribal structure. As a result such an individual resorted to thieving, and he was known as a Xu“lEk (pl. Xa“AlCk). Some of these individuals wrote poetry in which themes of endurance in poverty and hunger, independence, loneliness and skill in escape were paramount. However, there were some Xa“AlCk who were portrayed as generous figures, including ‘Urwa’ ibn al-Ward (d. 615) who stole from the rich to give to the poor.18 Thus the similarity between the ethic of murruwat and the ideal virtue of the Xa“AlCk appears congruous, even though the social contexts were very different. This provides a good example of the difficulty of establishing a single origin of futuwwat for the Persian Sufis, as it is possible that there were a number of inspirations, including pre-Islamic muruwwat, Qur’anic idealism and Xa“AlCk ethics. It has been noted that the word Xu“lEk/Xa“AlCk is not of Arabic origin, but is Persian. Furthermore, similarities have been observed between the Arab Xa“AlCk and certain individuals in the Sassanian empire (which stretched across modern-day Iraq and bordered parts of the Arabian Peninsula). Some scholars have witnessed a connection between the Xa“AlCk and the futuwwat tradition in its Sassanian manifestation. Indeed, Mihran Afsharc argues, “It

8

Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism

is not too far from the truth to say that before the appearance of Islam, this tradition [of jawAnmardC ] had reached the Arabian Peninsula from Iran, and in my opinion jawAnmardC in all the territory adjacent to Iran has an Iranian foundation.”19 Afsharc argues his point on philological terms, for he claims that the word Xa“AlCk is Persian in origin, and if the phenomenon were based on the indigenous Arab way of life then it should have had an Arab name.20 Regardless of origins, it appears that the Xa“AlCk in the early Islamic period was a rural phenomenon, for in Persia they “congregated in mountains and other inaccessible places, with a preference for border lands” where they could escape from the authorities.21 Moreover, it seems that the Xa“AlCk were also connected with groups of nomads and with Kharijites.22 Even though the Xa“AlCk lived in peripheral regions they must have presented a considerable threat to the authorities. It has been surmised from textual evidence that western Iran was “swarming” with Xa“AlCk after the disbanding of the Umayyad imperial armies, and these men “lived off their physical prowess – as mercenaries, bodyguards, assassins and other strongmen when there was a demand for the services of that kind, or as brigands, when there was not.”23 The term continued to be used into the eleventh century, as it appears in the TArCkh-i SCstAn24 and the QAbEs nAma,25 and in the Sufi writing of Hujwcrc, although the meaning that the authors conveyed by the term may not always have been the same (in Hujwcrc the term is positive, though the same cannot be said in the case of the QAbEs nAma).26

Futuwwat and forms of sodality in early Islamic history The Qur’an does not use the word futuwwat once; however, several forms of the root f.t.a. do appear, and they convey the meaning of a youth and a servant: “We heard a youth called Abraham . . .” (21.60); “[Joseph] said unto his servants” (12.62); and the semantic meaning of a servant appears again in 18.60: “when Moses said to his servant.” The story of the People of the Cave also uses a form of f.t.a. for “young men”: “When the young men fled for refuge to the Cave” (18.10) and “They were young men who believed in their Lord” (18.13). After the “canonisation” of the Qur’an many of the early Islamic scholars were engaged in researching the WadCth literature, and it is hardly surprising that in this period there is no systematic treatise on futuwwat. However, there is one rather interesting Arabic treatise that is entitled KitAb al-adab wa al-muruwwat, a work composed by saliw ibn Jannaw. Very little is known about the author, although Jawiv (d. 868–69), the famous exponent of adab literature, mentions a saliw ibn Jannaw, a poet from Lakhm (which is located in north-east Arabia)27 who had spent some time with the successors of Muwammad’s companions. Jawiv added that saliw ibn Jannaw composed wise discourses and he studied in Nayshapur.28 The Arabic treatise KitAb al-adab wa al-muruwwat is of interest because it does not contain any quotation from or specific reference to the Qur’an or the WadCth, or any of the other Semetic, monotheistic traditions (although Adam and Moses are

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mentioned).29 This short treatise is divided into forty-five paragraphs, which deal with an attribute, such as wisdom (khirad) and courtesy (adab) (no. 17), or an inappropriate character trait such as gossiping (no. 42), from a purely ethical perspective.30 Although an interiorised spiritual dimension is absent from this treatise, so too is attachment to tribal affiliation. However, the preIslamic notion of loyalty to and identity in one’s tribe remained strong even after the death of Muwammad, and this was partly due to the circumstances in which the Arabs found themselves. As Muslims ventured into territories outside of the Arabian Peninsula the Arab Muslim tribes expanded as a result of absorbing new converts, and tradition meant that these new converts should have exactly the same rights and duties as those enjoyed by the Arabs. However, it soon became clear that some Arabs resented giving equality to non-Arab converts, who were gaining riches and also were improving their situation due to their sophisticated, intellectual background and their role in administering services in society. Dislike of the non-Arab clients (mawAlC ) resulted in the promotion of an Arab racial superiority which stressed the importance of genealogy and language. Although tribal pride diminished during the ‘Abbasid era, the reaction against the excesses of Arab tribal chauvinism resulted in the Shu’ubiyya, a movement in which the literary classes of Persians, who served in the administration of the Islamic ummah in lands that had been Sassanian, attempted to address the Arab/non-Arab imbalance. Anti-Arab sentiment reached the degree that Arab ideals were ridiculed: Sahl b. Haren (the secretary of the caliph al-Ma’men) composed treatises on miserliness, and it is related that he wrote an entire book deriding generosity and praising miserliness.31 The point is not that the ethic of muruwwat was implicitly questioned, but that the Persians were beginning to assert their own sodality which necessitated a sense of identity and a way of behaviour as distinct from the Arabs. The Persians were seeking to promote a code of honour which some chose to call futuwwat. A point worthy of note is found in the poetry of one such Persian, Bashhar b. Burd, one of the foremost of the Shu’ubc poets; it is his frequent usage of the term fatA, and also “the earliest example of the term futuvvat.”32 Within Burd’s dCwAn he adorns himself with the “garment of futuvvat,” is the first to break the “seal of futuvvat” and refers to his associates as men of futuwwat.33 Some Persians mocked the Arabs, and they mastered fields of learning that had been dear to the Arabs, as Goldziher observed: This field of study [genealogy] must have been very welcome to the Persian philologist at a time when evidence of the faults of the Arabs, shame of their tribes and disparaging details from their past could support their thesis about the superiority of non-Arabs.34 Yet the Shu’ubc movement was not the only form of “aXabiyya (sodality) that is of relevance to the discussion of the origins of futuwwat. Towards the end of the Umayyad period, organised societies of young men ( fityAn) assembled

10

Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism

for drinking parties in which there was singing and musical performances. Erotic poetry was sung and narrated, and there were even performances on the graves of the earliest poets who praised wine, during which oblations were made on the poet’s tomb.35 From this point, according to Mawjeb, futuwwat came to imply a “kind of hedonism, consisting of hard-drinking, carousing, music, dance, singing, brawling and prizefighting!”36 In the gatherings of poets, both women and handsome adolescent boys were present, and there are accounts dating from the ninth century of how such parties were reproved.37 A similar form of futuwwat was reported by al-Bayhaqc, which has been summarised by Breebaart: A group of fityAn . . . had severed all family relations and taken up abode in a house on one of the popular streets of the city [Baghdad]. They lived there as bachelors, enjoying each other’s company in the pleasure of comfortable living, inviting musicians and dancers, drinking wine, eating copiously, putting on fine clothes, and leading a life of moral and sexual indulgence; at other times they would engage in discussions or sit in the upper room and watch the passers by.38 Breebaart distinguishes between an earlier form of futuwwat, i.e. the old Arab fatA (apparently what is meant here is the individual who upheld muruwwat), and the new fityAn groups. The former “portrayed the embodiment of the noblest ideas and values of the total environment” whereas the new fityAn formed “exclusive groups, dissociating themselves from the rest of society, and, thus, not portraying in their ideals the total value system of their surrounding world . . . [and they did not restrict] membership to specific social, ethnical or professional milieus.”39 Even so, some of the more conventional Arab virtues were observed, such as generosity, and remaining true to one’s word. Mohsen Zakeri attributes Shu’ubc tendencies to these libertines, who also expressed qualities of courtesy and urbanity in general. Interestingly, Arab habits of eating wild animals, dogs and lizards were ridiculed, while futuwwat was popularised, which meant refined manners in eating, drinking and dressing.40 The emphasis on refined manners when eating is particularly significant in the light of the importance that later futuwwat writers attributed to this activity. It is also valid to speculate that later Sufis may have been inspired by the sense of sodality manifested by such groups, indeed the “un-Islamic” nature of these groups may have shown to later Sufi individuals the positive potential of antinomian behaviour, the reality or purpose of which may have ultimately been service to the divine.

The «ayy!r!n So far the search for the origins of futuwwat has largely concentrated on the Arab background; however, there are many scholars who argue that the primary impulse for futuwwat came through the Iranian, and particularly the

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Sassanian, tradition. Worthy of particular attention is the work of Mohsen Zakeri, whose monograph entitled SAsAnid Soldiers in Early Muslim Society argues convincingly that the Sassanid élite troops, called the asbArAn, were the forerunners of a group known as the “ayyArAn in the eighth and ninth century CE (whose tradition was intimately bound to the emergence of Sufifutuwwat, which will be discussed later in this chapter).41 By comparing the military activities of the warrior, land-holding class in the late Sassanid period with Persian individuals and groups up to the early ‘Abbasid period, Zakeri demonstrates a remarkable cultural continuity. The strength of his research lies primarily in the military sphere, especially noting the similarity in both language and terminology that described the various groups of soldiers, and also the military characteristics and the weaponry and regalia that were used.42 However, Zakeri’s research fails to provide convincing evidence of similarities in their ethical and social dimension.43 This is most likely due to an absence of source material, which means that only generalisations and suppositions can be made. While it is likely that these groups were inspired initially by Zoroastrian beliefs and ethics, it is not clear what these were. This is a crucial point to make because in the medieval period when Sufis were discussing futuwwat, there was an attempt to expand the parameters of Islam to accommodate futuwwat norms (to be discussed in Chapter 3). Can the same be asked about the ethics of the asbArAn vis-à-vis Zoroastrianism? With the emergence of Islam in Iranian lands, the élite, warrior class (who were the landholding classes, otherwise known as the dihqAnAn) adopted non-military ways to promote their cause, and in this they utilised the nascent Islamic ethics, such as the spiritual equality of believers (which stood in contrast to the Arab policy of adopting Persians as clients (mawAlC )). Moreover, it seems that some of the dihqAnAn were the “intellectuals” who “as employees of administrative offices [under the ‘Abbasids] . . . showed great zeal in preserving the Persian political, intellectual and administrative legacy.”44 There were also dihqAnAn who as asbArAn (also known at this time as “ayyArAn) “lived as distinct social and military groups in Iran,” and took part “massively first in the anti-Umayyad revolution, and in the dynastic struggles in the ranks of the ‘Abbasids.”45 The “ayyArAn (singular “ayyAr) have frequently been associated with futuwwat and the fityAn by modern scholars. The “ayyArAn were usually connected with anti-social behaviour including rioting, extortion and robbery. These individuals designated themselves as fityAn, for it was reported that the army of the caliph al-Ma’men was supported by them, and when they fought their enemies they would cry, “Here, take this from the fatA “ayyAr.”46 (It has been claimed that by the tenth century, the terms fatA and futuwwat had become completely synonymous with the word “ayyAr.47 ) Their abilities in fighting were such that they were frequently recruited into local police forces in the tenth century.48 It is worthwhile speculating that the groups known as “ayyArAn in tenth-century Baghdad were the legacy of the Persian asbArAn. In any case, at this time Baghdad was plagued with communal violence between

12

Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism

Sunnis and Shc‘ites, and the “ayyArAn were heavily involved in this; both sides had their own “ayyAr organisations.49 That the central authorities were unable to maintain order may have contributed to the “ayyArAn exploiting the situation to benefit themselves and their supporters. Indeed, the influence of the “ayyArAn in Baghdad reached an extent that at times the city was ruled by “ayyArAn leaders, such as al-Burjumc in 1032. Although it has been argued recently that the violence committed by “ayyArAn groups should be “contextualised within the endemic violence and extortion practiced by the powerful,”50 the picture that emerges from most texts is not rosy. The “ayyArAn were not just a feature of Baghdad, but rather they were located across the Middle East. Bosworth has remarked that, their ubiquity in Khurasan, as in other parts of Persia and Iraq, suggests that they included bandits, vagabonds, and irregular troops, and that they were continually replenished by desperadoes loving an unfettered life, by peasants forced out of agriculture through lack of land or through fiscal oppression, by discharged and unemployed soldiers.51 The generally negative impression of the “ayyArAn that appears from most sources needs to be treated with caution. As Hanaway has observed, “All the historians of the Ghaznavid and Seljuk periods . . . were court historians and were bound to reflect unfavourably upon any popular political force which opposed the established one.”52 One such opponent of the “ayyArAn was Ibn Jawzc (d. 1200) who made associations between the “ayyAr and the fityAn: Amongst those persons who have been made captive by the misrepresentations of Satan are the “ayyar; and this body, who are called fityan, take the people’s goods, and say “a fata, is one who does not commit fornication nor lie, and strives to preserve the honour and reputation of women, and does not violate their privacy.” In spite of this, they do not restrain themselves from seizing people’s property, not remembering that by their action they oppress the people. They call this organisation (tariqa) “fotovvat”. It often happens that one of them takes an oath, binding himself to the obligations of fotovvat, and abstains from food and drink. Their garments are trousers (sarawil) with which they invest everyone who enters their organisation, in the same way as the Sufis clothe the murid in a patched garment (muraqqa“).53 Tor agrees with Hanaway’s opinion as she observes that the different portrayals of the “ayyArAn (the Arabic clerical or bureaucratic views as opposed to the Persian men of the court – or for that matter the Persian Sufi sources) are not due to any ethnic or linguistic divide, but rather one of mentality.54 The clerics and bureaucrats abhorred civil unrest because it affected their own position in society, whereas the “men of the sword” appreciated the contributions of the “ayyArAn whom they frequently used to quell unrest, while

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marginal groups (such as the Sufis) admired the futuwwat and communal qualities that the “ayyArAn espoused. One text in which the “ayyArAn are depicted in a positive, heroic fashion is the TArCkh-i SCstAn which in part describes the events surrounding the axiomatic figure of the “ayyArAn in this period, Ya‘qeb ibn al-Layth. This “ayyAr emerged in south-west Iran and became the ruler of territories that stretched into India, Khurasan and towards Iraq. His character and the nature of his “ayyArC lifestyle have been regarded in a variety of ways by contemporary scholars. In the main, he has not been treated favourably, as his motivation has been described by two leading scholars as “love of conquest.”55 Bosworth claims it was his “ambition [that] drove him on to secure the first prize for himself,”56 and his vision was “essentially that of a military adventurer avid for plunder and glory.”57 Other scholars have argued that he promoted a proto-Persian nationalism that was directed at the Arabs.58 Malik al-Shu’ara Bahar is among the Iranian scholars to adopt this perspective, as he commented that Ya‘qeb-i Layth saffar was the greatest saviour (najAt dahanda) of Iran.59 Recently these views have been rejected by Tor who witnesses a much more Islamic-orientated dimension in Ya‘qeb ibn al-Layth. The “love of conquest” theory is discarded because it rests on the views of those who were antagonistic to him, and the “Persian or Scstanc nationalism” idea is rejected because it attributes to Ya‘qeb sentiments that he did not express but which were discussed in his presence by others (even though these ideas were spoken in Arabic which he did not understand).60 Instead Tor argues that Ya‘qeb’s activities which resulted in him being recognised as the ruler of a huge swath of territory and also marching against the ‘Abbasid caliph should not be seen as those of an individual hungry for power or riches. Rather his acts are coherent from the “orthodox” Islamic context of a mutaYawwi“. A mutaYawwi“ was someone who voluntarily waged war along the border territories of the Islamic empire against the unbelievers, and this group of individuals stood in contrast to the paid, regular soldiers of the army. In the words of al-Sam‘anc, the mutaYawwi“ “are a group who have devoted themselves entirely to the ghazw and the jihad, stationed themselves on the frontiers and supererogated in the ghazw, and sought the ghazw in the land of the infidels when it was not incumbent upon them and present in their land.”61 In addition to campaigning against the non-believers, the mutaYawwi“ took it upon themselves to uphold Islamic standards, typified in the idea of al-amr bi”l ma“rEf wa”l nahy “an al-munkar (commanding the right and forbidding the wrong) which was largely directed against Shc‘ites and Kharijites. Tor argues that the early mutaYawwi“ figures “belonged to the new proto-Sunni trend and its individualized view of the Jihad.”62 Some of these deeply ascetic, self-styled enforcers of Sunni orthodoxy later became known as great Sufis, including Ibrahcm Adham, ‘Abd al-Rawman b. ‘Umar al-Awza’c (one of whose leading students was the first to be described with the term “ayyAr),63 and the ascetic Sufi Ibn Mubarak64 who was a good friend of the Sufi, Fuvayl b. ‘Iyav who had also spent time as an “ayyAr.65

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Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism

Tor argues that the functions of the mutaYawwi“ mirror those of the “ayyArAn when the latter begin to appear with frequency in texts written in the eleventh century but which refer back to events of the ninth century, especially with reference to the emergence of Ya‘qeb ibn al-Layth.66 Known as the founder of the Saffarid dynasty, Ya‘qeb ibn al-Layth al-saffar abandoned his trade as coppersmith and joined the mutaYawwi“ groups that were occupied in fighting Kharijites who were centred in Scstan in the mid-ninth century. The success of Ya‘qub ibn al-Layth in defeating the Kharijites resulted in him focusing his attention on other heterodox groups, including the Shc‘ites in Nayshapur. The weakness of the tahirid dynasty which had let such Kharijite groups flourish seems to be the reason for Ya‘qeb deposing Muwammad ibn tahir, and indeed the same kind of reasoning has been suggested for his unsuccessful march against the ‘Abbasid caliph.67 The ideal of the “ayyAr and its association with the concept of futuwwat in the Persian Sufi tradition may well be related to Ya‘qeb ibn al-Layth. This is because Ya‘qeb took possession of Nayshapur in 873, a period when the great masters of the Malamatc tradition were alive. No doubt they would have been aware of the reputation of Ya‘qeb ibn al-Layth since the Malamatcs were not individuals who shied away from society and its affairs. Indeed, if Tor’s theory of Ya‘qeb being a perfect example of a mutaYawwi“ or an “ayyAr is correct, this would help to explain the Malamatc approbation of the “ayyArAn. The idealised version of Ya‘qeb ibn al-Layth as an “ayyAr is provided in the TArCkh-i SCstAn, which includes a chapter in which his qualities are mentioned.68 These qualities were based on his trust in God (tawakkul), as he refused counsel from anyone on important issues. Linked with this was his worship, for he would perform over 170 cycles of prayer a day. In addition he bestowed a thousand dinars in alms (Xadaqa) every day, and out of “jawAnmardC and freedom (AzAdC )” he was generous in bestowing large gifts. He was modest and did not gaze at women or young men.69 He seems to have been very serious as “it was not his custom to laugh,”70 a practice that is reminiscent of those ascetics who were among the early Malamatcs.71 Also befitting an “ayyAr, Ya‘qeb was sagacious (duhA”),72 and would often carry out missions himself, acting as a spy or as an advance guard. He waged war against the “infidels” in a formal fashion which involved offering non-Muslims the opportunity to convert, and if anyone converted after the war his children and wealth would be returned with a robe of honour.73 On his death, Ya‘qeb was replaced by his brother ‘Amr, another “ayyAr, and the TArCkh-i SCstAn also records his qualities which are worth quoting: When [Ya‘qeb] died, ‘Amr tried to maintain [his brother’s] ways and qualities, and he built a thousand ribAYs, five hundred Friday mosques and minarets, not to mention bridges and distance markers in the desert. And he undertook many charitable deeds, and he intended to do more, but was unable to complete [his intentions].74

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The image of Ya‘qeb in the TArCkh-i SCstAn is of course an idealised one, yet the similarities of these qualities and those in contemporary texts describing the mutaYawwi“ are very apparent, as Tor has illustrated. However, Tor’s depiction of Ya‘qeb as a mutaYawwi“ whose primary concern was highly idealistic in fighting heretical groups and empowering proto-Sunni orthodoxy appears over-exaggerated at times.75 It is likely that Ya‘qeb ibn al-Layth was a pragmatic figure who attempted to restore order, security and justice in Scstan (and subsequently in regions beyond Scstan) while at the same time having a degree of commitment to the ideals of the mutaYawwi“. The ideologically committed and driven figure that Tor depicts appears too one-dimensional and does not permit any development or change of mind that characterise human behaviour. A pragmatic, inclusive understanding of Ya‘qeb’s motivation for leading the “ayyArs and ruling over a huge territory independent of the ‘Abbasid caliph may even have increased his appeal and the possibility that the term “ayyAr could have positive connotations. It is noteworthy that, in the main, all those who recognised Ya‘qeb’s leadership were honoured, given robes,76 and assimilated within his group of followers. Yet nowhere does the TArCkh-i SCstAn say that such individuals renounced their personal beliefs. The idealised qualities of Ya‘qeb are the attributes which no doubt the Malamatc desired to see in themselves. It is also worth pointing out that Nayshapur was subsequently captured by al-Khujistanc whose pro-Kharijite position and general cruelty resulted in Abe rafx al-Ncsha pe/, who was one of the most celebrated Malamatcs, taking a stance against him.77 Tor’s representation of Ya‘qeb ibn al-Layth as the ideal mutaYawwi“/ayyAr, based on her reading of the TArCkh-i SCstAn, enables us to understand why the term “ayyAr (and related ideals such as futuwwat) was adopted by spiritually minded individuals such as Sufis and Malamatcs, and also others such as rulers (see the discussion related to the QAbEs nAma, below). Even if Tor’s depiction of Ya‘qeb as an ideal “ayyAr is accepted, it is at the same time realistic to assume that there were other “ayyArAn who failed to attain his standards. Although he may have entertained genuine religious sentiments in fighting Kharijites and Shc‘ites, and he may have been somewhat puritanical in his disposition, the movement attracted more unscrupulous individuals. As Bosworth observed: But since such corporate groupings as “ayyAr bands had no legal or social role assigned to them as such in traditional Islamic society, their membership was ill-defined by socio-legal norms and consequently attracted to itself irresponsible and even anti-social characters; hence “ayyAr groups were a turbulent element in the life of such towns as Zarang and Bust and were at times little distinguishable from brigands.78 Be that as it may, there is evidence that the Malamatcs and Sufis admired the “ayyArAn. One of the most frequently cited Sufi sources relating to one

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Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism

of the “ayyArAn of Nayshapur is that of Hujwcrc (d. 1063 or 1071) who reported a story about New the “ayyAr. Citing the words of a Malamatc, ramden Qaxxar (d. 884–85), Hujwcrc says: New was the name of an “ayyAr, well-known for [his] futuwwat, and all the “ayyArAn of Nayshapur were under his command. One day I saw him in the street and I asked [him], “What is [the nature] of jawAnmardC ?” He replied, “Are you asking about my jawAnmardC or yours?” I said, “Tell me about both.” He said, “My jawAnmardC is that I cast aside this robe of mine and I wear the patched gown (muraqqa“) and act in a way that accords with it so that I may become a Sufi, and in that garment I refrain from committing sin out of shame before the people. Your jawAnmardC is that you cast aside the patched gown so that you will not be deceived by people and they will not be deceived by you. So my jawAnmardC is the preservation of the sharC “at by making [something] clear and your jawAnmardC is the preservation of the truth (WaqCqat) by keeping secrets (asrAr).79 Hujwcrc’s text is interesting for a number of reasons not least of which is that it associates an “ayyAr with futuwwat. It offers a hint that the “ayyArAn of Nayshapur had some kind of corporate, hierarchical structure. It is significant that a leading Malamatc wanted to ask this “ayyAr about futuwwat ( jawAnmardC ) in the first place. Was futuwwat something that a Malamatc expected an “ayyAr to have a better or different understanding of than was the norm? Was the Malamatc attempting to trick the “ayyAr in some way? The answer of New is revealing because it casts his jawAnmardC within a Sufi perspective, but one that remains tied to society since he fears people’s accusations and disapprobation if he commits sins. Such an answer reflects a certain Malamatc mentality, as one of the fundamental pillars of Malamatc thought was to struggle with the lower self (nafs) and to shun all forms of hypocrisy. New’s response about his own jawAnmardC suggests that people had a high opinion of Sufis, and so dressing in the Sufi patched frock heightened his own sense of acting correctly. ramden Qaxxar’s jawAnmardC on the other hand meant complete sincerity, as the Malamatcs avoided the trappings of Sufism (certain rituals and forms of dress) to hide their own spiritual endeavours, so that people would not treat them with any deference and they would thereby avoid the sentiments of spiritual pride and vanity. The deference shown by the “ayyAr in this exchange reflects a recognition that the Sufi worldview was appreciated and valued by the “ayyAr, and it supports Tor’s opinion that it is wrong to consider the “ayyArAn as bandits (at least as a general descriptor). For his part, Hujwcrc concludes the episode by commenting that New’s definitions of jawAnmardC were “a firm foundation.”80 There is a similar account of New’s understanding of jawAnmardi as presented by Hujwcrc which appears in an unpublished Arabic futuwwat nAma in the Aya Sofia library. In this episode New is asked about futuwwat by

The origins of futuwwat

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Awmad ibn Iswaq singhc, and he replies that according to singhc futuwwat is that one’s words and actions are the same, whereas according to him (New) futuwwat is that one’s actions are the same as one’s intentions (niyyat).81 New appears in another Sufi text that comes from the tradition that was very familiar with the Malamatc perspective. Abe ’l-Qasim al-Qushayrc (a student of al-Sulamc – see next chapter) composed his famous RisAla in which there is a chapter on futuwwat. In this chapter New is put to the test by being sold a beautiful slave girl who had been dressed as a young man. The girl stayed with New for many months, still disguised as a man, but he never touched her during this period.82 The story is obviously related in part to New’s sexual purity and his upright character (it is interesting to compare this story and descriptions of Ya‘qeb ibn al-Layth with later references to sexual purity in the futuwwat nAmas). Immediately following this episode in Qushayrc’s RisAla, there is another short story about an “ayyAr,83 and although it does not refer to New it is worth recounting here because it helps to flesh out the image of the “ayyAr. In this episode an “ayyAr was asked to hand over his youth who had been serving the sultan. The “ayyAr declined and for his improper response to the sultan’s request he received a thousand lashes. Still the “ayyAr refused to hand over the youth. That night the “ayyAr had a nocturnal emission and so he performed his ablutions with cold water even though it was freezing cold outside. When asked why he had endangered his life the “ayyAr replied that he would have been embarrassed before God if he could not endure a cold ablution for His sake even though he could withstand a thousand lashes for a youth. Such an anecdote reveals the strong bonds of loyalty that the “ayyAr established (both for fellow humans and for God), and also the independent spirit and lack of respect for rulers, which appears to have been common among the mutaYawwi“/“ayyAr.84 Another anecdote from Qushayrc’s RisAla shows that the ethics of jawAnmardC were encouraged among all those around him. Although Qushayrc does not mention New by name, his contemporary, Abe ’l-Favl Rashcd al-Dcn Maybedc, in his Kashf al-AsrAr explicitly identifies New in the same anecdote.85 According to Qushayrc: A group of chivalrous young men came to visit a man who was famous for his chivalry. {Maybedc: There was a man that they used to call New the “ayyAr. He was the pCr of Khurasan in his age, and he was famous for jawAnmardC and hospitality.}86 [When they arrived], the man called out, saying, “[Servant]-boy, bring the tray [with food]!” However, the boy did not bring anything. The man kept calling him again and again . . . The visitors looked at one another and said: “It is contrary to [the rules of] chivalry [ futuwwat] that someone would employ a person who fails to bring the tray after being asked so many times!” [When the servant finally appeared], the host asked him: “Why have you tarried so long with the tray?” The boy answered: “There was an ant on it, and it is contrary to [the rules of ] chivalry to bring out the tray to

18

Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism the men of chivalry when there is an ant on it, nor is it appropriate to toss it off the tray. So I tarried, until the ant finally crawled off the tray on its own.” The visitors told the boy: “You did everything right, boy! You are therefore the kind to serve the men of chivalry.87

Another story about New offers his definition of jawAnmardC for he comments that the word jawAnmard is composed of six letters, each of which represents a character trait: the letter “j” is for jEd (generosity), the “w” is for wafA (loyalty), the “a” is for amAnat (safety), the “m” is for muruwwat (manliness), the “r” is for raWmat (compassion) and the “d” is for diyAnat (religiosity).88 Perjawadc has noted that New’s understanding of jawAnmardC reflects more of a concern for his own relationships in society than the understanding of later thinkers whose definitions reveal a more “Sufi” focus.89 All of this information indicates that New “ayyAr commanded a great deal of respect. Indeed, his tomb in the district of rcra in Nayshapur continued to be visited for several centuries after his death,90 which suggests that he epitomised the life of the ideal “ayyAr rather than of the bandit. The Sufi inclinations of New “ayyAr appear very strong, yet there were cases of “ayyArAn actually becoming Sufis. One such individual was Fuvayl b. Iyav who was described by Hujwcrc as an “ayyAr, and Hujwcrc says that he rAh dAshtC miyAn-i Marv wa BAward,91 which Tor translates as “holding the road,” that is, protecting the road for someone by exacting a toll.92 Tor mentions Nicholson’s translation of “practicing brigandage”93 and while it is difficult to adjudicate between these two translations, it would seem that the early Sufis agreed that Fuvayl b. Iyav’s early “ayyArC inclinations did not always stand up to the idealistic, sanitised vision that Tor attempts to present. For example, in the biographical section of Qushayrc’s RisAla (which Tor does not mention) Fuvayl is described as a “dangerous young lad who robbed caravans between Abiward and Sarakhs.”94 Hujwcrc’s understanding of the term “ayyAr is slightly confusing. In some passages it is possible to read the term in a negative fashion. For example, in a short biographical entry for an early “Sufi,” Sa‘id ibn Musayyib, Hujwcrc remarked that Musayyib was “a man who pretended to be an “ayyAr [yet really had a] pious nature. He was not the kind of man who pretended to be pious, [yet really had an] “ayyArC nature” (mardC “ayyar namA”C, pArsA Yib”; nah pArsA namA-C, “ayyar Yib”).95 Hujwcrc added that this was an approved path among the Shaykhs, and it resembled the approach of the Malamatcs. Indeed, Hujwcrc made a connection between the “ayyAr and the Malamatcs in the section on Dhe al-Nen al-Mixrc. Hujwcrc described this famous Sufi as “among the “ayyArs of this path” (which Nicholson rather strangely translates as “one of their hidden spiritualists”)96 and in the next line it is stated that he used to go along the path of the Malamatcs.97 Other Sufis that are labelled by the term “ayyAr include Padshah Ta’yib (“he was an “ayyAr in the path of the truth”).98 Abe ‘Ubaydallah Muwammad ibn al-rakcm (also called the “Shaykh of the “ayyAr”) is portrayed as someone who is intoxicated with proximity to the

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truth and unrivalled in his field. He was hidden from the common people, yet had clear proofs and shining signs.99 Once again, the common theme of profound spirituality with an external “ayyAr veneer is suggestive of the Malamatc perspective. Following Muwammad ibn al-rakcm, Hujwcrc briefly mentions Sa‘cd ibn abc al-‘Ayyar (d. 1065) who is said to have been a WadCth scholar and kept his inner secrets to himself (in the true fashion of the Malamatcs).100 References to the “ayyArAn are found in another Sufi masterpiece, the AsrAr al-tawWCd of Ibn Munawwar (which although composed in the late twelfth century, recounts episodes in the life of the Sufi from Khurasan, Abe Sa‘cd abc ’l-Khayr, who died in 1049).101 The term “ayyAr appears twice in the text. The first is positive for it is the likes of the “ayyArAn, such as Manxer alrallaj, who are executed at the gallows, while cowards (nAmardAn) escape this fate.102 The second usage of the term is negative, as the “ayyArAn are described among highwaymen and mischief makers (mufsid ).103 One of the most useful texts relating to the “ayyArAn in Persian society in the eleventh century is the QAbEs nAma, a treatise that was started in 1082–3,104 and was composed by Kaykawes ibn Iskandar ibn Qabes of the Ziyarid dynasty in north Iran for the benefit of his son. An explicit link is made for the “ayyArAn with jawAnmardC in this work: “that group consists of “ayyArAn, soldiers and merchants, and the term jawAnmardC has been attributed to them because of their courtesy (mardumC ).”105 This group is placed at the bottom of a hierarchy which ascends through the faqirs and Sufis, and the wise men (WukumA) and prophets, and lastly the spirituals (rEWAniyAn). Neverthless, the “ayyArAn are clearly accorded a great deal of approbation, and indeed, the task of comprehending the nature of the ideal “ayyAr is made that much easier by the following description: Know that the jawAnmardC of an “ayyAr is that he possesses several kinds of skill. One is that he is brave, manly and forbearing in all tasks, [another is that] he keeps his word, is pure in his sexual life and has a pure heart, [that] he does not harm anyone in order to benefit himself, rather it is permissible to benefit [his] friends through his own misfortune. He must not hurt prisoners, but he must assist them and also the wretched, and he must repel the wrongs of the sinners from those who perform good. He must listen [well] just as he speaks truthfully, and grant justice. At the table where he has eaten he must not perpetrate ill, and he must not return a good act with a bad one. He must disdain adultery,106 and regard misfortune as a comfort. When you contemplate well, all of these skills are those very three things to which I previously referred.107 The three things mentioned in the above quote are carrying out whatever one says, not to say anything contrary to the truth, and to persevere with forbearance.108 The implications of living by such a code necessitated a resourceful intellect, which is revealed in an anecdote within the QAbEs nAma.

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Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism

Some “ayyArs were sitting together by the road when a man approached them and said he had been sent by the “ayyArAn of Marv who would concede to their own inferiority if they received an answer to three questions. Two of the three questions were short: What is jawAnmardC ? What is the difference between jawAnmardC behaviour and non-jawAnmardC behaviour? The third was long. In short, the “ayyArAn were asked about a situation wherein a man ran past an “ayyAr and a little later another man with a sword, obviously intending to kill the first man, ran up to the “ayyAr and asked him if someone had just passed by. The question was what answer the “ayyAr should give, for the code of jawAnmardC does not permit lying, neither does it allow the “ayyAr to blab (ghamz). One of the “ayyArAn was able to answer all three questions. He said that jawAnmardC is doing whatever you say, and that the difference between the behaviour befitting a jawAnmard and nonjawAnmard-behaviour was fortitude (Xabr). With regard to the third question he said that the “ayyAr should get up from where he had been sitting, and then sit down again a little further away, and then he should remark, “No-one has passed by for as long as I have been sitting here.”109 The QAbEs nAma, as mentioned above, makes the connection between the “ayyArAn and soldiers, and this is reinforced in the very next passage of the text: Seek this jawAnmardC that I have recounted about the “ayyArAn among soldiers . . . The more complete soldier is like the more complete “ayyAr, but the soldier must possess more generosity, hospitality, magnanimity, gratitude, chastity and have many more weapons. Love of [being faithful to one’s] word (zabAn dEstC ),110 love of one’s self, service and submission are skills in a soldier, but they are faults in the “ayyAr.111 The “ayyAr connection with soldiers is apparent in Persian romance literature, and perhaps the most appropriate example of this is the tale of Samak-i “ayyAr. The date of the composition of this work is unknown; however, William Hanaway believes that it was “set down on paper during the Ghaznavid and Seluk periods.”112 Although this work, like the ShAhnAma, was probably based on tales that had had an oral basis for many years, it is necessary to be cautious about retrojecting the habits and customs of the “ayyArAn in the story into pre-Islamic Iran. The exact nature, social position, custom and tradition of the individuals who were supposedly of an “ayyAr type in pre-Islamic Iran is far from clear, so the similarity that some scholars witness between the pre-Islamic “ayyAr and his early medieval counterpart, which arguably is recorded in Samak-i “ayyAr, needs to be treated with caution.113 Regardless of all temporal considerations, the descriptions of the “ayyArAn in Samak-i “ayyAr match the positive descriptions about the “ayyArAn in sources such as those written by the Sufis. The importance of Samak-i “ayyAr was regarded by Mawjeb as paramount for understanding the “ayyAr movement, to the extent that he considered it more significant than the other tales in

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21

the genre of popular romance, and also than the more conventional historical works.114 Samak-i “ayyAr is a very long text, more than 2,000 printed pages, which have been published by Parwcz Natil Khanlarc.115 Fortunately for the researcher, Khanlarc also wrote a series of articles in Sukhan from which it is possible to provide a summary of the main characteristics of the “ayyArAn as portrayed in Samak-i “ayyAr.116 In the first article Khanlarc lists the ethical foundations of “ayyArC by giving appropriate examples from the work. These are: keeping secrets (rAz dArC ), truthfulness (rAstC ), assisting the helpless (yArCyi dar-mAndagAn), virtue in sexual matters (“iffat), self-sacrifice ( fidA kArC ), freedom from want (bC-niyAz), and being a friend to one’s ally and an enemy to one’s foe.117 Other significant features of the “ayyAr are highlighted in the subsequent articles, and these include the cunning and the tricks that the “ayyAr must employ to accomplish successfully his various missions. This necessitates carrying weapons and drugs, and the ability to disguise oneself.118 Although Samak-i “ayyAr is a work of fiction, many of the characteristics mentioned above reflect the writings of Sufis and contemporary observers in the early medieval period. The author of the work certainly glorified the “ayyArAn, and as such presents just as distorted an image as those who offered negative portrayals. The oral tradition of Samak-i “ayyAr may well have been flourishing in the tenth century, the very same period in which the incidents and disturbances involving the “ayyArAn in Baghdad began to increase. Tor puts a gloss on the “ayyArAn unrest by claiming that the majority of incidents in Baghdad reflect proto-Sunni MutaYawwi“a ideals of the “ayyArAn. Whatever the reason, it is interesting to speculate that the increasing frequency of such unrest helps to explain Sufi discussions on futuwwat in this period (to be discussed in the next chapter). It is obvious and reasonable to suppose that the ways in which the “ayyArAn were described in historical literature depended upon the author and also the social context. For this reason Breebaart’s conclusion about the “ayyArAn should be treated with caution: “Their principal course of action was the attempt to lay hands upon the wealth accumulated among the merchants and traders. Whenever they were hindered in their attempt, they did not refrain from arson and violence.”119 By the same standards, the idealised version of the “ayyArAn as presented in texts such as Samak-i “ayyAr, and the portrayal of Ya‘qeb ibn al-Layth’s heroic nature in the TArCkh-i SCstAn, must be subject to critical scrutiny. In the formative period of futuwwat a whole range of individuals were associated with the term. This chapter has highlighted a number of these: the anti-Arab Persians of the Shu’ubc movement; young Arab hedonists who enjoyed good living, wine and song; bandits, rogues, extortionists, some of whom may also have had good intentions at times and were inclined to the Sufi movement; soldiers; merchants; local rulers (such as Ya‘qeb ibn al-Layth); and early Sufis. Those associated with futuwwat had their critics, such as Ibn Jawzc, but there were other respected observers who described futuwwat in

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a positive fashion. Thus al-Bcrenc (973–1048), the Persian scholar from Khwarazm, argued that futuwwat was an attribute that pertained to relations in society, including generosity, compassion, humility, seriousness, patience, hospitality and courtesy. Al-Bcrenc related an incident of a man from Basra who wore immaculate clothes and rode his best steed, but at the same time he fulfilled the needs of the people. On being asked why he did this, he replied that he had drunk the best wines while listening to beautiful singers, and when nightingales sang from trees, but his best pleasure was listening to individuals to whom he had acted kindly. Futuwwat, therefore, is sweetness of temper, expending wealth on others, respecting the sharC “a and not causing anyone harm. It is not something that one inherits; there should be no pride in one’s blood. (Interestingly he mentioned ratim of ta’c as a great exponent of futuwwat.)120 It was this positive dimension of futuwwat that was adopted by the Sufis who began to define the term as an ethically acceptable principle that laid the foundations for harmonious social relations. In addition to this, some refined the term in such a way that it directed the individual to an intensely personal and mystical relationship with God.

Notes 1 See the case of Karim Zayyani, discussed by Leonard Lewisohn, “Persian Sufism in the Contemporary West,” in Jamal Malik and John Hinnels (eds), Sufism in the West, London: Routledge, 2006, p. 59. “Zayyani . . . considers the tradition of Islamic chivalry ( futuwwat) to have existed alongside (a non-Islamic type of ) tasawwuf in ancient Iran for some 3000 years.” 2 Gerard Salinger, “Was the FutEwa an Oriental Form of Chivalry?” Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, 94(5), 19 October, 1950, p. 481. 3 Ibid. 4 Ignaz Goldziher, Muslim Studies (Muhammedanische Studien), vol. 1, edited by S.M. Stern, translated from the German by C.R. Barber and S.M. Stern, London: George Allen & Unwin Ltd, 1967, p. 22. 5 R.A. Nicholson, Literary History of the Arabs, Cambridge: Cambridge Univerity Press, 1930, p. 72. 6 Cl. Cahen, “Futuwwa,” EI 2, vol. II, Leiden: Brill, 1965, p. 961. 7 See Nicholson, Literary History, p. 87. 8 ratim’s diwAn has been edited with a German translation and notes by F. Schulthess (Leipzig, 1897). 9 C. van Arendonk, “ratim al-ta’c,” EI 2, vol. III, 1971, p. 274. 10 Goldziher, Muslim Studies, p. 47. 11 Ibid. 12 The Aghanc or “Book of Songs” was compiled by Abe ’l-Faraj Ixfahanc (897–967) and it is an anthology of Arabic poetry. See K. Abu Deeb, “Al-Akanc, Ketab,” in Encyclopedia Iranica, vol. I, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1985, pp. 606 –7. 13 The full story appears in Nicholson, Literary History, pp. 86–7. 14 Nicholson, Literary History, p. 92. 15 Goldziher, Muslim Studies, p. 54. 16 Goldziher’s argument has been criticised by B. Farès in “MURj’A”, EI 2, vol. VII, Leiden: Brill, 1993, pp. 636 – 8. Farès argues that in pre-Islamic times, the concept was used to “describe the sum of the physical qualities of man,”

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17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

26 27

28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47

23

while it was in the Islamic period that the abstract meaning of muruwwat (moral qualities) was fully developed. Thus it is argued that in the pre-Islamic period the term was not yet an “absolutely abstract term capable of being taken as a symbol” ( p. 638). G. Borg, “sa‘alik,” in P. Starkey and J. Scott Meisami (eds), Encyclopedia of Arabic Literature, vol. II, London: Routledge, 1998, p. 670. For a discussion of Xu“lEk poetry, including examples of the works of ‘Urwa’ ibn al-Ward, see Alan Jones, Early Arabic Poetry, Oxford: Ithaca Press, 1992. Mihran Afsharc, FyCn-i jawAnmardC, Tehran: Daftar-i pizhehish-ha-yi farhangc, 1384/2005 – 6, pp. 94 –5. See Mihran Afsharc, ChahArdah risAla dar bAb-i futuwwat wa aXnAf, Tehran: Nashr-i chishma, 1381/2002–3, pp. 16 –18. Patricia Crone, “Babak’s Revolt,” lecture given at UCLA, 25 February 2005. Available at: www.parstimes.com/history/babak.pdf (accessed 24/06/08) (p. 7). Cl. Cahen, “Mouvements Populaires et Autonomisme Urbain,” Arabica, 6, 1959, p. 47. Crone, “Babak’s Revolt.” TArCkh-i SCstAn, T. Bahar (ed.), Tehran: Intisharat-i Mu‘cn, 1381/2002–3, p. 226. QAbEs nAma, Kaykawes ibn Iskandar ibn Qabes ibn Washmgcr ibn Ziyar, Ghulam rusayn Yesufc (ed.), Tehran: Intisharat-i ‘ilmc wa farhangc, 1373/ 1994–5. “Don’t regard as lawful the killing of any Muslim, unless they are Xu“lEkAn or thieves (duzdAn) and grave robbers (nabbAshAn)” (p. 99). Hujwcrc, Kashf al-MaWjEb, M. ‘Abidc (ed.), Tehran: Suresh, 1386/2007, pp. 142, 262, 550. KitAb al-adab wa al-muruwwat, “Introduction” by Muwammad Damadc, Tehran: Pizhehishgah-i ‘ulem-i insanc wa muyala‘at farhangc, 1373/1994–5, p. 249. Some have said that he was from Kufa: see Dihkhuda, “saliw ibn Jannaw Lakhmc,” in LughatnAma, Tehran: Tehran University, new edn, 1373/1994–5, vol. 9, p. 13059. KitAb al-adab wa al-muruwwat, “Introduction” by Muwammad Damadc, p. 249. The reference to Adam is on page 280 (Arabic), 314 (Persian), Moses on page 284 (Arabic), 319 (Persian). KitAb al-adab wa al-muruwwat; for wisdom, see p. 272 (Arabic), p. 303 (Persian), for gossiping, see p. 285 (Arabic), p. 320 (Persian). Goldziher, Muslim Studies, p. 149. Mohsen Zakeri, SAsAnid Soldiers in Early Muslim Society: The Origins of “AyyArAn and Futuvvat, Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 1995, p. 304. Zakeri, SAsAnid Soldiers, p. 304. Goldziher, Muslim Studies, p. 177. M.J. Mahjub, “Chivalry and Early Persian Sufism,” in Leonard Lewisohn (ed.), Classical Persian Sufism: From its Origin to Rumi, London: KNP, 1993, p. 565. Ibid., p. 564. Ibid., p. 567. D.A. Breebaart, “The Development and Structure of the Turkish Futuwah Guilds,” Doctoral dissertation, Princeton University, 1961, p. 33. Ibid., pp. 35 – 6. Zakeri, SAsAnid Soldiers, pp. 311–12. Ibid., p. 9. Ibid., pp. 87– 94. Ibid., pp. 60, 68. Ibid., p. 292. Ibid., p. 289. Breebaart, “Development and Structure,” p. 37. Mahjub, “Chivalry and Early Persian Sufism,” p. 568.

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48 Breebaart, “Development and Structure,” p. 37. 49 Tor, Violent Order: Religious Warfare, Chivalry and the “AyyAr Phenomenon in the Medieval Islamic World, Würzburg: Ergon Publishers, 2007, p. 285; Breebaart, “Development and Structure,” p. 39. 50 Tor, Violent Order, p. 271. 51 C.E. Bosworth, The Ghaznavids, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1963, p. 168. 52 William Hanaway, “Persian Popular Romances before the Safavid Period,” PhD dissertation, Columbia University, 1970, p. 175. 53 Anne Lambton, “The Internal Structure of the Seljuq Empire,” in The Cambridge History of Iran, vol. V, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968, p. 274. 54 Tor, Violent Order, p. 265. 55 See D. Tor who cites Th. Nöldeke and C.E. Bosworth. “Historical Representations of Ya‘qeb b. al-Layth: A Reappraisal,” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, Series 3, 12(3), 2002, p. 248. 56 C.E. Bosworth, The History of the Saffarids of Sistan and the Maliks of Nimruz, Costa Mesa: Mazda, 1994, p. 75. 57 Ibid., p. 173. 58 S.M. Stern, “Ya‘qeb the Coppersmith and Persian National Sentiment,” in C. Bosworth (ed.), Iran and Islam, in Memory of Vladimar Minorsky, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1970, pp. 535 –55. See also M. Bastanc-Parczc, Ya“qEb-i Layth, Tehran, 1367/1988. 59 Malik al-Shu’ara Bahar, “Jawanmardc,” included in Fyin-i JawAnmardC, Tehran: Sukhan, 1383/2004 –5, p. 112. This work is a translation by Iwsan Naraqc of an article by Henri Corbin (Tehran: Sukhan, 1383/2004–5) with several other articles by eminent scholars on the topic of jawAnmardC. Bahar’s article was originally published in Mihr-i IrAn, vol. I, 1320. 60 This is the episode recorded in TArCkh-i SCstAn. 61 Cited in Tor, Violent Order, p. 43. 62 Ibid., p. 53. 63 Ibid., p. 51, n. 64. 64 See the brief biography of him in Hujwcrc, Kashf al-MaWjEb, pp. 147–9. 65 Tor, Violent Order, p. 58. It is interesting to note that in Hujwcrc’s biographical section of his work, four individuals who can be linked to the tradition of the mutaYawwi“ and “ayyArAn come after each other: Ibn Mubarak (pp. 147–9), Fuvayl b. ‘Iyav (149–54), Dhu Nen al-Mixrc (154–8) and Ibrahcm Adham (pp. 158–60). See Kashf al-MaWjEb (ed. ‘Abidc). However, Hujwcrc does not make this connection. 66 It is interesting to note here the observation of Cl. Cahen who noted the difficulty in making an exact demarcation between the “ayyArAn, the gAzCs and the mutaYawwi“a. See his “Mouvements Populaires et Autonomisme Urbain dans L’Asia Musulmane du Moyen Âge,” II, Arabica, 6, 1959, p. 46. 67 Tor, “Historical Representations,” p. 263. 68 TArCkh-i SCstAn, pp. 257– 62. 69 Ibid., pp. 258 – 9. 70 Ibid., p. 264. 71 N. Perjawadc, PizhEhish-hA-yi “irfAnC, Tehran: Nashr-i nay, 1385/2006–7, pp. 29–31, entitled MalAmatiyAn wa Wuzn (“The Malamatis and Sadness”). 72 Ibid., p. 260. 73 Ibid., p. 626. 74 Ibid., p. 262. 75 For example, the TArCkh-i SCstAn includes passages that reveal a much more pragmatic programme rather than an ideological crusade against “heretical” groups. This is particularly the case with various Kharijites, some of whom are absorbed within his “ayyAr followers. At one point he explains to a Kharijite

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76 77

78 79

80 81 82 83 84

25

leader, “You and your helpers must be brave, because most of my army and my notables are Kharijites” (TArCkh-i SCstAn, p. 221). Moreover, although these particular Kharijites joined his army, they maintained their own Kharijite commander, and were given the name jaysh al-shurAt (or army of Kharijites) (ibid., p. 222). This is not an isolated incidence, as in another episode he has an envoy say to one of the Kharajite leaders that they should join together to secure peace for the people of Scstan. And he mentions ramza ibn ‘Abdallah, a famous Kharijite ruler of Scstan who “never attacked this city and never molested its people.” The message ends with the suggestion that the Kharijites should not molest anyone, but should follow the practice of previous just rulers (ibid., p. 209). Finally it is worth noting that when Ya‘qeb ibn al-Layth finally captured Nayshapur the people complained that he did not have the Caliphal authority to take control of Nayshapur and that he was a Kharijite. There are a number of ways to explain such accusations; first, labelling an enemy with a pejorative term was a typical way to denigrate an opponent; second, there were indeed a large number of Kharijites in his army but it is unclear whether these retained a form of Kharijite belief or whether they abandoned them; third, he did not have Caliphal patents for taking the city and thus his presence there must have appeared as a threat to Caliphal authority in the same way that Kharijite bands threatened the Caliph’s dominions in the east of the empire. However, in various episodes of the TArCkh-i SCstAn Ya‘qeb ibn al-Layth battles with various Kharijite bands and armies, so the accusation of the people of Nayshapur should not be taken at face value. See for example the episode of the highway robbers (sAlEkAn) of Nayshapur who recognised Ya‘qeb’s qualities and therefore sought his protection (pp. 226–7). J. Chabbi, “Remarques sur le développement historique des mouvements ascétiques et mystique au Khurasan,” Studia Islamica, 46, 1977, p. 60, n. 1. The reasons for Malamatc opposition to Khujistanc are conjectural, for they could be related to the Sufi inclination to the ahl-i WadCth as opposed to the ahl-i ra”y in addition to his cruelty and excesses. (See Bosworth, The History of the Saffarids, p. 200). The ahl-i WadCth were those who placed more stress on the role of following the sunna of Muwammad as opposed to reason, which was emphasised by the ahl-i ra”y. Obviously groups such as the Malamatcs rejected the primacy of reason because it belittled ideas relating to inspiration and “mystical insight.” Bosworth, The History of the Saffarids, p. 69. Hujwcrc, Kashf al-MaWjEb, p. 278. Nicholson’s translation reads “. . . refrain from sin because of the shame that I feel before God.” Nicholson, Kashf al-Mahjub, London: Luzac and Co, 1911, p. 183. ‘Abidc’s text has the phrase wa az sharmi khalq andar-i An jAma az ma“Xiyat ba-parhizam. Hujwcrc, Kashf al-MaWjEb, p. 278. M. Shafc‘c Kadkanc, Qalandariyya dar tArCkh, Tehran: Sukhan, 1386/2007–8, p. 22. The manuscript is number 2049, folio 211. Qushayrc’s work has been translated into English. See Al-Qushayri’s Epistle on Sufism, translated by A. Knysh, Reading: Garnet, 2007. This particular story appears on p. 240. Tor reads this episode as relating to New; however, his name is not mentioned within the anecdote and it could in fact refer to any “ayyAr. This is a point stressed by Tor – in particular see her conclusion to chapter two in her Violent Order ( p. 84) – and also in Persian by Mihran Afsharc in his discussion of ‘Ayyar’s portrayal of the early Sufis. See his “PCshAhangAn-i taXawwuf dar Tadhkirat al-Awliya” (Sufi Leaders in Remembrance of the Saints), in his collection of essays, NishAn-i ahl-i khudA, Tehran: Nashr-i chishma, 1386/2007– 8, pp. 11–14.

26 85 86 87 88

89

90 91 92 93 94

95 96 97 98 99 100 101

102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110

111 112 113 114 115

Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism Cited in Perjawadc, PizhEhish-hA-yi “IrfAnC, p. 109. Ibid. Al-Qushayri’s Epistle on Sufism, pp. 240 –1. This anecdote is included in M. Shafc‘c Kadkanc, Qalandariyya dar tArCkh, pp. 22–3, n. 8. The source is microfilm 3058 in Markazi Danishgah, folio 6. There are only six letters in New’s definition because his speech reflects the pronunciation of the common people who would have said juwAmard instead of jawAnmard. The example of “Sufi” perspectives is from Kashifc (see Chapter 5). Kashifc remarked that the “f ” in futuwwat stands for annihilation ( fanA ); the first “t” of futuwwat stands for solitude (tajrCd ); the “w” of futuwwat stands for loyalty (wafA ); and the second “t” of futuwwat stands for abandoning (tark) everything except for God. See Perjawadc, PizhEhish-hA-yi “IrfAnC, pp. 112–13. Shafc‘c Kadkanc, Qalandariyya dar tArCkh, p. 23, n. 8. Hujwcrc, Kashf al-MaWjEb, p. 149. Tor, Violent Order, p. 257. Nicholson, Kashf al-Mahjub, p. 97. See Knysh’s translation, p. 21. Later Persian Sufis, such as ‘Ayyar (d. 1220), make it plain that Fuvayl b. Iyav kept the company of thieves and highwaymen. See his Tadhkirat al-awliyA, M. Isti‘lamc (ed.), Tehran: Intisharat-i Zawwar, 1382/2003 – 4, p. 89. Hujwcrc, Kashf al-MaWjEb, p. 132. Nicholson, Kashf al-Mahjub, p. 100. Hujwcrc, Kashf al-MaWjEb, p. 154. Ibid., p. 262. Ibid., p. 264. It has been shown that he was indeed considered one of the Malamatcs; see Tor, Violent Order, p. 238. Ibn Munawwar’s Persian text has been edited in two volumes by Shafc‘c Kadkanc, AsrAr al-tawWCd, Tehran: fgah, 1376/1997–8 (4th edn). An English translation of Ibn Munawwar’s work has been published by John O’Kane, as The Secrets of God’s Mystical Oneness, Costa Mesa: Mazda, 1992. Shafc‘c Kadkanc, AsrAr al-tawWCd, p. 72; O’Kane, The Secrets of God’s Mystical Oneness, p. 151. Shafc‘c Kadkanc, AsrAr al-tawWCd, p. 175; O’Kane, The Secrets of God’s Mystical Oneness, p. 276. QAbEs nAma, p. 263. Ibid., p. 246. The text actually reads zanAn (women), but this must be a misprint. In the context of jawanmardC it seems more appropriate to read zinA. QAbEs nAma, p. 247. Ibid., p. 246. Ibid., p. 248. The different manuscripts offer different versions for this phrase, including “love of women” (zanAn dEstC ) which Ghulam-rusayn Yesufc (the editor of the QAbEs nAma) considers more appropriate in the context of the paragraph. See his comments on pp. 471–2. QAbEs nAma, p. 249. Hanaway, “Persian Popular Romances,” p. 176. See for example Hanaway, “Persian Popular Romances,” p. 131. M.J. Mawjeb, “fyin-i ‘ayyarc,” in AdabiyAt-i “ammiyAna”i-ye IrAn, rasan Dhe al-Faqarc (ed.), Tehran: Chishma, 1382/2003 –4, p. 955. Samak-i “AyyAr, Tehran: Bunyad-i farhang-i Iran, 1964.

The origins of futuwwat

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116 Parvcz Natil Khanlarc, “fyin-i ‘ayyarc,” Sukhan, 18:11–12, 1348/1969, pp. 1071– 7; 19:6 – 8, 1348/1969, pp. 19 –26, 113 –22, 263 –7, 477–80. Following on from Khanlarc’s efforts, M.J. Mawjeb published a series of articles in Sukhan under the same heading: see Sukhan, 19, pp. 869–83, 1059–73, 1182–95; 20, pp. 38 –50, 173 –99, 301–11. 117 Khanlarc, “fyin-i ‘ayyarc,” Sukhan, 18:11–12, pp. 1071–7. 118 Ibid.; Sukhan, 19:6 – 8, pp. 113 –22. 119 Breebaart, “Development and Structure,” p. 48. 120 Al-Bcrenc, Al-JamAhir fC ma“rafa al-jawAhir, Hyderabad: Jamiyat Da’irat al-Ma‘arif al-‘Uthmaniyah, 1936. The relevant Arabic passages from this work have been included in Taeschner, “Al-Bcrenc uber die Futuwwat und Muruwwat,” Der Islam, 24, 1937, pp. 69 –74. There is an English translation of al-Bcrenc’s text by Hakim Mohammad Said which appears on the world wide web: www.farlang.com/gemstones/biruni-book-gemstones/page_001.

2

Futuwwat and early Persian Sufism

Introduction By the eleventh century when Hujwcrc was composing his Kashf al-MaWjEb Sufism had become so integral to Persian society that he cited the famous words of Abe ’l-rasan Feshanja:1 “today Sufism is a name without a reality, but formerly it was a reality without a name.”2 Hujwcrc then remarked that the pretence of Sufism was prevalent, and indeed this hints that Ibn Jawzc’s negative opinion of the tradition of futuwwat which he associated with Sufism (and which was mentioned in the previous chapter) may have had an element of truth. Even if the pretence was rampant, the idealised image of the “ayyAr and the attribute of futuwwat or jawAnmardC suggest why the “genuine” Sufis were interested to investigate this concept in their writings. One of the first of all Sufis to discuss futuwwat was the celebrated martyr, Manxer al-rallaj who was executed in Baghdad in 922. Much has been written on rallaj, especially by Massignon,3 so it is unnecessary to repeat his life story here. What is of concern is his use of the term futuwwat in chapter six of his TAwAsCn.4 rallaj presented a discussion between Iblcs, Pharaoh and himself, about who should be considered the greatest in terms of futuwwat. Each could be viewed as manifesting utmost arrogance: Iblcs refused God’s command to bow down before Adam; Pharaoh refused to recognise Moses as prophet; while rallaj refused to recant his (in)famous ecstatic sayings. For rallaj, however, futuwwat involved a loyalty to God that transcended conventional wisdom. I competed with Iblcs and Pharaoh in the domain of futuwwat. Iblcs said, “If I had bowed down, the name of futuwwat would have fallen from me.” Pharaoh said, “If I had affirmed belief in the Prophet I would have been thrown from the station of futuwwat.” I said, “If I had gone back on my proclamation, I would never have been thrown from the carpet of futuwwat.” Iblcs said, “I am better than he” when he saw no other than he. Pharaoh said, “I know of no other lord for you than me.” He knew no one among his people who could distinguish between the real and the creation. As

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for me, I said, “If you do not recognise him, recognise his trace. I am his trace. I am the real (ana al-Waqq)” because I never ceased to be the real in the real.5 The authenticity of the text, that is to say, the authorship of rallaj, has been questioned, as Sells says, “There is good reason to consider this section a posthumous interpolation”6 because of a subsequent passage that describes rallaj’s killing and the amputation of his limbs. Even if this last section had been added some time after rallaj’s brutal death, it should still be considered an example of how futuwwat was adopted by those sympathetic to the Sufi way, and used for meditative purposes. Interestingly, Massignon remarked that prior to rallaj the argument invoking futuwwat had been rejected by the mystic from Khurasan, Tirmidhc (d. c. 900), who said, “Continually mentioning the good deeds to the person who has been the beneficiary of them is not part of futuwwat. Look at Pharoah. He had no futuwwat for he kept speaking of good deeds, and claiming his superiority to Moses.”7 Although Tirmidhc’s views are not directly a negation of rallaj’s statements about himself, the caution of the former does suggest the necessity of keeping one’s secret with God, and certainly there should be no boasting about spiritual experience or unveiling. However, rallaj’s writings are important if only for the direction that he took futuwwat. It became a personal and interiorised relationship with God, whereas previously it had been largely discussed in the context of the “ayyArAn, hedonistic groups in Baghdad, or gatherings of young men where sentiments of loyalty, generosity and altruism were dominant. In this chapter, early Persian Sufi interpretations of futuwwat will be examined by analysing the writings of three influential figures from the tenth to twelfth centuries, two of whom were based in Khurasan, and the influence of the third in Persian lands cannot be overstated. The first, ‘Abd al-Rawman al-Sulamc, focused primarily on an ethical dimension among “the brethren” and there are allusive hints of an inspiration from institutionalised futuwwat. The second Sufi, Abe ’l-rasan Kharaqanc, understood futuwwat (or to use his preferred term, jawAnmardC ) as an interiorised personal relationship with God, reminiscent perhaps of rallaj’s brief passages. The third, Ibn ‘Arabc, presented an interpretation of futuwwat which has much in common with that of Kharaqanc, although stylistically they could not be further apart. It would be incorrect to say that these perspectives are mutually exclusive, as these Sufis meet on the common ground of altruism, service, and selflessness.

‹Abd al-Ra-m1n al-Sulam3 (937–1021) One of the earliest substantial Sufi works that examines futuwwat is an Arabic text entitled KitAb al-futuwwat by ‘Abd al-Rawman al-Sulamc. Arabic was considered the academic and religiously preferable language of the time, but Sulamc himself was a Persian, living in Nayshapur which was Khurasan’s “intellectual capital.”8 Sulamc’s father frequented Malamatc circles, and when

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he passed away the Malamatc influence was maintained through his grandfather Isma‘cl b. Nujayd who was the spiritual heir of Abe ‘Uthman al-rcrc,9 who in turn was the disciple of Abe rafx raddad, regarded by some as the founder of the Malamatc movement.10 This movement coalesced around individuals whose spiritual endeavours led them to focus their energies on complete sincerity in belief and action. In essence, the Malamatc concern with sincerity resulted in an abhorrence of hypocrisy and a scrupulous examination of the self (nafs). A consequence of this was a rather introspective manifestation of spirituality, which was sometimes contrasted with other forms of Sufism in which some Malamatcs believed there was a danger of nurturing pride in one’s ascetic discipline, performance of charismatic powers (karAmAt), and discussions of the states that result from certain ritual activity.11 The path was one in which there was a deep distrust of one’s nafs, and an awareness of the constant vigilance that was required to keep it in check. Pretending to spiritual poverty was hypocrisy, and talking about one’s own good deeds was considered nothing more than boasting and manifesting pride in “spiritual” accomplishments.12 In his RisAlat al-MalAmatiyya Sulamc noted that in reply to being asked, “What is [the path of] the Malamat?” one of the shaykhs said, “That you do not show off [your] good deeds and that you do not hide your evil deeds.”13 In the same treatise Sulamc offered the following advice: Among their principals, they [the Malamatis] said, “It is necessary that when you die, the preacher (al-wA“iZ) for you is your house. During the course of your life do not pretend to be among the poor, but when you die your house should be like one of the houses of the pious predecessors among the masters of the poor.” And they said, “It is necessary that you show your wealth (al-ghanC ) and freedom from want (al-istighnA”) when you are alive, for when you die your house will show your poverty, and then your death will be a comfort for those who have passed away and an admonisher (maw“iZa) for those left behind.” The principle of theirs in this is what Abe rafx said to ‘Abdallah al-rajjam, “If you are a fatA, your house will be an admonisher on the day that you die for the fatiyAn.”14 The above-mentioned Ibn Nujayd was Sulamc’s maternal grandfather, and having no sons of his own, he may have been eager to let his grandson pursue study into the various fields of Islam and perform the pilgrimage to Mecca in 977. Sulamc’s travels took him to various locations in Iran, but he finally settled in Nayshapur, where he inherited his grandfather’s substantial wealth, which included an extensive library. It was there that Sulamc established a small Sufi convent (duwayra) where he was able to write his works on Sufism for the next forty years.15 After his death, Sulamc ’s grave became the focus of pilgrimage, and a monastery was built there, which indicates the esteem that he had already achieved among Sufi communities.16

Futuwwat and early Persian Sufism

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The range of Sulamc’s writings has led one modern scholar of his works to describe him as a “ ‘school’ in himself, a precursor whose personal example and works set the norms of much of what we known today as Islamic mysticism.”17 These works have been classified into three types:18 the first is the sacred biographies of both Sufi men and women; the second is the writings that focus on Sufi institutions and practices; the third is his commentaries on the Qur’an. In the first of these categories, Sulamc provides much useful information relating to individuals who have been associated with futuwwat, while the second includes his Kitab al-futuwwat, the first whole treatise on the subject of futuwwat by a Sufi. Sufism in Sulamc’s age and in the preceding generations was far from uniform. Indeed, the differences between the Sufism that existed in Iraq (in Baghdad and Basra) and the forms of spiritual expression in Khurasan, and in particular in Nayshapur, were noted by Junayd, the celebrated Sufi master in Baghdad, as cited by Qushayrc, as “Chivalry [ futuwwat] is in Syria, eloquence is in Iraq, and sincerity is in Khorasan.”19 Although the findings of modern scholars have called the accuracy of this statement into question, it does seem that regional differences in “Sufism” were significant in the generations prior to Sulamc. His TabaqAt al-XEfiyya, a work in which the biographies of the Iraqi Sufis are mixed with those from Khurasan, is “a clear attempt to present an amalgamated picture of the different schools and centres without losing sight . . . of the compiler’s own affiliation and allegiance . . . [it is] the response of a Khurasanc-Ncshaperc to the emphatically Baghdadi slant of the earlier [Sufi] compilers. . . .”20 By presenting an “amalgamated picture” of Baghdadi and Khurasani Sufis, Sulamc wanted to portray the various strands as normative forms of Islam, and it is for this reason that his writings have been considered an attempt to systematise Sufi doctrines, and “can be characterised as an uxelization project.”21 An analysis of Sulamc’s works with reference to futuwwat suggests that the views of Sviri and Cornell, contained in the above quotations, are well founded. However, the focus of these two scholars in their research was not futuwwat, so the following section will discuss the significance and importance of Sulamc’s treatment of the subject matter.

Sulam3 ’s treatment of futuwwat in his biographical works The major biographical work of Sulamc is his KitAb TabaqAt al-SEfiyya in which there are entries on 105 male Sufis.22 These are divided into five “generations” (YabaqAt) of about twenty individuals which are generally chronologically ordered. The first generation includes early figures from the eighth century, associated with asceticism and later called Sufis, including Ibrahim Adham and Dhe ’l-Nen. The last generation includes his own grandfather, Isma‘cl b. Nujayd. For each entry Sulamc offered some brief biographical information followed by a WadCth transmission, then he presented the sayings of, or about, the Sufi in question.

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Trawling through the 105 entries, we find that Sulamc discovered futuwwat in all five generations. In the first generation he described Ma‘ref al-Karkhc from Khurasan as “among the shaykhs and prominent individuals and one of those remembered for scrupulousness and futuwwat.”23 Moreover, he cited a saying of Ma‘ref al-Karkhc that “there are three signs for the fatA: loyalty without fear, generosity without demand and giving without being asked.”24 Also in the first generation is Awmad ibn Khivrawiya, “one of the shaykhs of Khurasan in futuwwat,”25 as is Abe rafx Nayshaberc (the great Malamatc of Khurasan) whose conversation with Junayd and his followers about futuwwat is cited below. The shaykhs of Baghdad had gathered with Abe rafx Nayshaberc and they asked him about futuwwat. He said, “You speak, for you have [good] expressions and eloquence.” So Junayd said, “Futuwwat is letting go of [one’s own] opinion and abandoning [one’s] connections.” Abe rafx said, “What you have said is beautiful. But according to me, futuwwat is justice, but abandoning [one’s] claim to justice.” Junayd said, “Arise, dear friends, for Abe rafx is greater than Adam and his progeny.”26 The last individual associated with futuwwat from the first generation is Abe Turab. He is described as “among the shaykhs of Khurasan, and those remembered for religious knowledge (“ilm), futuwwat, trust in God, asceticism and scrupulosity.”27 In the second generation there are four Sufis associated with futuwwat. The first of these is Ruwaym from Baghdad. Sulamc noted that Ruwaym was asked about futuwwat, and he said, “It is that you find excuses for your brothers’ mistakes, while behaving with them in a manner that requires no excuses [from them].”28 The second Sufi in the second generation is Shah Shuja‘ al-Kirmanc from Khurasan, who is described as “among the best fatiyAn.”29 Sulamc also cites a saying of Kirmanc that “Futuwwat is of the nature of the noble (aWrAr), and censure the practice of the base.”30 The third Sufi is Muwammad ibn al-Favl al-Balkhc, who was born in Balkh, but lived and died in Samarqand. He was asked about futuwwat, and he responded that it is “Keeping [one’s] secret (sirr) with God according to the agreement, and maintaining [one’s] external manners (WifZ al-ZAhir) with the people by being sociable and working for [the benefit] of the people.”31 The fourth Sufi in the second generation, and from Khurasan, is Abe ‘Abdallah al-Sijzc, who is described as “among the great shaykhs of Khurasan and their fatiyAn.”32 Sulamc quoted the following about him: He was asked, “Why don’t you wear the muraqqa“ cloak?” He replied, “It would be hypocritical to wear the clothes (libAs) of the fatiyAn before carrying on one’s shoulders the weight (athqAl) of futuwwat. One can wear the clothes of the fatiyAn after enduring the weight of futuwwat.” And they asked him, “What is futuwwat?” He said, “Knowing that others may

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33

be forgiven but that you are at fault, and that everyone is complete but that you are deficient, and having compassion on all creatures – the good and the sinners – and the perfection of futuwwat is nothing disrupts you from God.”33 In the third generation, Sulamc cited the saying of Abe ’l-rusayn al-Warraq al-Nayshapur, “one of the great shaykhs from Nayshabur,” that “the origin of futuwwat is in five qualities: sense of honour, loyalty, gratitude, fortitude and satisfaction.”34 In the same generation is Mumshad al-Dcnawarc who is described as one of the fatiyAn of Jabal (which is today’s central Iran) and whose futuwwat was clear to all.35 From the fourth generation, Abe ‘Alc al-Thaqafc seems to have been a Khurasanian Sufi, judging by his spiritual mentors. Sulamc reported a description of him by Abe ‘Uthman al-rcrc who said, “Whenever I see the courtesy of this fatA [al-Thaqafc ] it helps my inner self.”36 In the fifth generation there are four Sufis associated with futuwwat. The first is Ja‘far al-Khuldc from Baghdad who said, “Futuwwat is despising the nafs, and honouring the dignity of the Muslims.” The second Sufi is Abe ’l-rasan al-Beshanjc who was “one of the foremost fityAn of Khurasan.”37 Sulamc included two of his sayings which have a bearing on futuwwat: “He was asked about Sufism, and he said, ‘It is freedom, futuwwat, abandoning the [extreme] courtesies of generosity, and sensitivity in one’s morals’ ”; “He was asked about futuwwat, and he said, ‘It is paying good attention [to others], and continually inspecting your self (al-murAqaba), and not making your nafs different in its external form from its internal form.’ ”38 The third Sufi in the fifth generation is Abe Bakr al-Shibhc (who was a follower of the Malamatc Abe ‘Uthman al-rcrc in Khurasan). He said, “Futuwwat is pleasant character traits and promoting the good.”39 Finally in this grouping is Abe ‘Abdallah Muwammad ibn Awmad al-Muqrc who associated with the Iraqi Sufis, but may have been influenced by Khurasan, as his brother was “among the great sheikhs” there. Al-Muqrc said, “Futuwwat is seeing the virtue of people through your own shortcomings.”40 Before commenting on the significance of futuwwat within the TabaqAt alSEfiyya it is necessary to include references to futuwwat (or rather a form of futuwwat) that Sulamc made in his Dhikr al-niswa al-muta“abbidat al-Xufiyyat (“Remembrance of Sufi Servant Women”).41 Sulamc divided Dhikr al-niswa into eighty-two chapters, each of which describes a female “Sufi,” and reports some sayings attributed to or about her. The historical range stretches from the Umayyad period to the generation that included Sulamc’s own spiritual mentor, Abe ’l-Qasim Naxrabadhc. Of the eighty or so women listed in the work, there are ten who are associated with futuwwat, the majority of whom were based in Khurasan. Since futuwwat in Arabic is derived from a term that means “young man,” Sulamc chose to coin his own term to denote females who adopted this character trait – he simply used the Arabic al-niswAn, which is derived from the Arabic word niswa (women). Rkia Cornell has translated

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al-niswAn as “female chivalry.” The female practitioners of al-niswAn who spoke about futuwwat are: ‘Athama (a daughter of one of the prophet’s companions, and who may have lived in Syria);42 ‘Amra of Farghana, who said, “One who serves the free (al-aWrAr) and the fatiyAn inherits glory and dignity in the eyes of mankind”;43 ‘f’isha of Merv, who said, “Whenever one of the fatiyAn from anywhere seeks me out, I sense the light of his intention in my inner soul until he arrives. If I am successful in serving him and fulfilling his needs, that light becomes fully mine, but if I cut short my service to him the light goes out”;44 Fayima bint Awmad ibn Hanc, who was a companion of Abe ‘Uthman al-rcrc of Nayshapur who said about her, “Fayima’s openhandedness towards the Sufis (li”l-fuqara) was the same as the open handedness of the fatiyAn. She never sought anything in return for it, neither from this world nor from the Hereafter”;45 Qusayma, the wife of Abe Ya‘qeb (who lived in Egypt), who was “one of the greatest practitioners of female chivalry”;46 Fayima bint Awmad (sister of Abe ‘Alc al-Redhbarc), who was one of the greatest practitioners of female chivalry,47 and it may be that she lived in Lebanon as her son resided there;48 Amat al-‘Azcz, described as “one of the most altruistic practitioners of female chivalry,”49 who may have hailed from Khurasan (Sulamc did not state where she was born, lived or died, but her entry is located in a section that contains entries for many women of Khurasan); an un-named practitioner of chivalry who was a companion of Umm al-rusayn, the daughter of Awmad ibn ramdan (of Nayshapur);50 Fayima al-Khanaqahiyya (no location is given), who was “one of the fatiyAn of her time,” and who said, “Futuwwat is to maintain service to others without discrimination,” and “The sight of the fatiyAn brings joy to the heart of the Gnostics and separation from them brings sorrow.”51 The last entry is for ‘f’isha bint Awmad al-tawcl of Merv (wife of ‘Abd al-Wawid al-Sayyarc who was a Sufi who lived in Nayshapur). It is reported that it was said to her, “So-and-so does not approve of your gift. He said, ‘Dishonour is in accepting gifts from the practitioners of female chivalry.’ ” She replied, “When the slave seeks glory in his servitude, his foolishness is revealed.”52 One of the obvious points of interest in this biographical survey is the number of females who were either practitioners of futuwwat or else had an opinion about it. This should not be so surprising, however, since, as it will be argued below, Sulamc considered futuwwat an essential component of Sufism. So if Sufism embraced both men and women, it follows that so too would futuwwat. Whether or not these women were engaged in the kind of “ayyArCfutuwwat activity typified in the military and banditry lifestyles associated with Ya‘qeb-i Layth is a matter of speculation. Some scholars have drawn attention to the prominent role of females in supporting the ethic of jawAnmardC in Samak-i “AyyAr,53 and Massignon has said that some women were initiated into several orders in the tenth and eleventh centuries.54 This period is later than the time of Sulamc’s women,55 and so it seems likely that “female chivalry” was a reference to a character trait, rather than any association with a structured organisation. Although the time frame is not clear

Futuwwat and early Persian Sufism

35

in Hanaway’s following observation, his views are noteworthy: “It seems likely . . . that women did enter the life of the jawAnmardAn. What the relationship was between the women’s corporation and the men’s is not known, and the evidence from Samak-e “AyyAr must be accepted more as suggestive than as definitive.”56 Perhaps the more interesting finding is the comparatively high number of Sufis (male and female) from Khurasan who were associated with futuwwat. In the previous chapter it was shown that futuwwat, at least in its “ayyArC form, was widespread in Persian-speaking regions, such as Scstan, and also in Arabic-speaking regions of Baghdad and Basra. Sulamc’s works therefore add a new dimension to the manifestation of futuwwat. In this respect the dialogue between Abe rafx Nayshaberc and Junayd (cited above) is intriguing; the possible ways of understanding this dialogue have been summarised by Sviri who has suggested that, In the last words of Junayd [“Arise, dear friends, for Abe rafx is greater than Adam and his progeny”] one can discern a subtle irony, perhaps even a concealed criticism of Abe rafx’ over-submissiveness to the CthAr code,57 while there is no doubt that Abe rafx’ praise of the Baghdadi eloquence is also double edged.58 The other point of significance is that the references to futuwwat in the biographical works are overwhelmingly ethical, and bind the “brethren” and the female practitioners of futuwwat together in harmonious social relations. There is little that can be construed in a mystical sense, although references to God are present, but in the framework of ensuring that the correct courtesies due to God are observed.

Sulam3’s Kit!b al-futuwwat Little scholarly attention has been paid to Sulamc’s KitAb al-futuwwat, although it has been mentioned in passing by a number of leading academics on Sufism. One of the first studies was Franz Taeschner’s relatively brief study in which he attempted to count and classify the sayings in Sulamc’s work. Taeschner’s pioneering article included German translations of a few of these (the Arabic original was included at the end of his article). However, there was no attempt at historical contextualisation or assessment of the importance of the text within the Sufi movement. The Arabic text of KitAb al-futuwwat was edited in 1977 by Süleyman Atel59 and it has also appeared in Perjawadc’s more recent collection of Sulamc’s treatises.60 The work has been translated into European languages. It was rendered into English by Shaykh Tosun Bayrak al-Jerrahi al-Halveti, whose twelve-page foreword does not address the contents of Sulamc’s own work. The actual translation is a devotional work and leaves something to be desired as a scholarly translation (and for this reason I have cited both the original Arabic and also

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the English translation in the notes).61 There is also a French translation by Faouzi Skali.62 Sulamc’s KitAb al-futuwwat, like all of his known works, was written in Arabic, although he lived and taught for over forty years in Nayshapur where Persian was the language of everyday communication. Although many Arabic words and phrases were included within the Persian language, the grammar was very different, as Arabic is a language of Semitic origin, while Persian is Indo-European. It is probably true to say that the Persian community of Nayshapur would have learnt Arabic with the same degree of difficulty as modern Persians. This in itself reveals that the intended readership and audience of Sulamc’s work was probably not a general audience; rather, it was most likely directed at the learned and erudite, and also at aspiring Sufis, some of whom would have been familiar with Arabic.63 The edited Arabic text is forty-eight pages long, while the English translation is seventy-eight pages long. There are five divisions, or chapters, of roughly equal length in the treatise, but none of these has a heading. The KitAb al-futuwwat is largely composed of sayings or anecdotes; some are from the prophet Muwammad and his companions, but the largest group of sayings is culled from the locutions of famous Sufis. Sulamc was scrupulous in providing an isnAd for the vast majority of sayings in KitAb al-futuwwat (whether attributed to the prophet or to a more contemporary Sufi), and this perhaps was his method of demonstrating the scientific basis in the methodology of the work. It must have seemed only natural for a WadCth scholar such as Sulamc to employ the same rigorous discipline of authenticity of prophetic WadCth studies to the sayings attributed to past masters of Sufism. In his early years, Sulamc had travelled extensively in search of WadCth, and he became known as an authority on WadCth in his own right. On examining the content of KitAb al-futuwwat, the apparent disregard for the historical context of futuwwat is rather striking. Sulamc never refers to the “ayyArAn, nor does he mention famous individuals associated with the term, such as Ya‘qeb-i Layth who occupied Nayshapur about one hundred years prior to Sulamc’s composition of KitAb al-futuwwat. Moreover, Sulamc must have been aware of the seemingly constant strife between the various groups associated with the “ayyArAn or futuwwat in Baghdad or in Khurasan,64 and yet there are no explicit references to this. Moreover, there is no attempt at historical reconstruction or development in futuwwat. (This may not be such a naïve observation as it appears at first glance; after all, it does seem to be the case that historical accuracy (chronology at least) appears to have occupied Sulamc’s mind in his categorisation of Sufis in his biographical masterpiece, TabaqAt al-SEfiyya). This explicit absence of contextualisation suggests that Sulamc had reasons other than historical analysis for the composition of the work. Unfortunately, Sulamc’s own voice, or opinion, very rarely emerges in an explicit fashion in the pages. At the beginning of the book he commented that someone had asked him about futuwwat, yet this should not be taken

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at face value, as such statements may have been used by authors to permit them entry into the topic in question. On the other hand, the difficulty in perceiving a standardised version of futuwwat, which was highlighted in the first chapter with reference to the conflicting views of the “ayyArAn, may be the reason behind the composition of the work. That is to say, as a well travelled and educated individual, Sulamc must have been well aware of the “ayyArC/futuwwat disturbances, and he may have written his treatise on futuwwat simply to give the Sufi perspective of this character trait that had been mentioned briefly by other Sufis such as rallaj and men of letters. The response that Sulamc offered to the initial enquiry may be taken as his own understanding of futuwwat. Yet the parameters of his futuwwat were so wide that the concept appears to be a search for perfection, because “every condition and every moment demand from you one aspect of futuwwat. There is no state or time without that demand.”65 Sulamc added that there is a futuwwat fit for one’s behaviour before God, and a futuwwat before the prophet, his companions, the pure ones of the past, one’s shaykh, one’s brotherhood, and the two angels on one’s shoulder who record one’s deeds. Indeed, the whole book can be considered as a series of footnotes on the above.66 This perspective of futuwwat resembles the view of Sufism held by the Malamatc Abe rafx al-Nayshaberc, and which was reported by Sulamc, “Sufism is made up entirely of [appropriate] courtesies (AdAb); for each moment there is [an appropriate] courtesy, for each spiritual station there is [an appropriate] courtesy.”67 KitAb al-futuwwat is primarily a book of adab, or courtesies and appropriate ways of doing things, which structure and regulate the whole of one’s life, from formal communal ritual activity to quiet moments of introspection. While it is true that the first chapter is predominantly composed of prophetic WadCth, there is no subsequent attempt to convey anything that remotely resembles a chronological pattern related to the development of futuwwat. The first chapter commences with a “charter myth”68 that locates the origins of futuwwat with the prophet Adam, and it is then passed through a chain of prophets until it reaches Muwammad. Sulamc then claimed that futuwwat was guarded by ‘Alc. Sulamc’s brief identification of futuwwat with an ethic that preceded Muwammad was continued and expanded by later authors on the topic, as was the practice of presenting Qur’anic “evidence” for futuwwat (which in Sulamc’s case is the story of Ibrahcm and the seven sleepers in the cave).69 By creating this charter myth at the very start of the book Sulamc rendered any historical accuracy (at least by modern standards) redundant, for he operated in the realm of prophetic myth, which for him transcended “real” history. Nevertheless, after presenting some thirty prophetic WadCth and episodes from the life of Muwammad, Sulamc proceeded to offer several sayings and anecdotes from some of the early Sufis. In the first chapter, the contents of the prophetic WadCth and the sayings of the elders and Sufis are primarily concerned with one’s behaviour towards companions or friends. There is much concern about kindness, generosity,

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forgiveness, the proper etiquette of being a host or a guest, maintaining friendships, respecting friends, and being truthful. A striking element in the chapter is the emphasis on kindness, joy and happiness: the first piece of advice that Sulamc offers after his introduction is that a “part of futuwwat is kindness with the brethren (al-mulAYafa” ma“ al-ikhwAn) and meeting their needs,”70 and he supports this with a prophetic WadCth that states, “It is worthy of God to give a servant on the Day of Resurrection to the person who is kind to the believer and has seen to his worldly needs, whether great or small.”71 And this is re-inforced later on in the chapter: “Part of futuwwat: good company, sharing happiness with your brethren, smiling with them”;72 and “share the joy of your brethren to the extent that if you are keeping a non-obligatory fast, you will break it to join the feast and activities.”73 Futuwwat here is an ethic that shies away from excessive, introspective soul-searching and weeping over one’s inadequacies. The joy that is fostered among the brethren should not be ruined by finding fault with others, and friendships should not be allowed to lapse. It is difficult to make categorical statements on the issue of whether Sulamc was referring to a kind of communal life among “the brethren,” but the text clearly fosters a sense of group solidarity through shared ethics and common goals. The emphasis on adab raises the question of the nature of Sulamc’s understanding of Sufism or futuwwat. There is virtually nothing that can be termed “ascetic” or “mystical” in the first chapter (which in this regard is typical of the whole book). Although there are very few explicitly mystical elements, there are several sayings that point to something hidden beneath the veneer of futuwwat adab. There is a report from Dhu ’l-Nen Mixrc who spoke of an individual who claimed to have seen God,74 and the saying of Yawya ibn Mu‘adh that “the eyes that shine with the light of Allah will give light to the eyes that look upon them,” which might be taken as a mystical aphorism.75 Sulamc also reported a saying from al-Nerc, the famous Sufi from Baghdad, which references mystical unveilings.76 (The relative absence of mystical themes does not mean that Sulamc himself should not be considered a mystical writer, as his Ma“salat darajAt al-XAdiqCn fC l-taXawwuf is a detailed account of the states of the spiritual journey that the Sufi may experience.77) The first chapter, then, sets the tone for the whole of the book. It locates futuwwat in the Qur’anic and WadCth traditions, and it also introduces some sayings from famous Sufis of various locations and epochs, and these sayings illustrate the nature of futuwwat adab. Chapters 2, 3 and 4 are composed solely of the sayings of those considered to be Sufis. Whereas in his biographical writings, futuwwat tended to be associated with the Khurasanian tradition, in KitAb al-futuwwat no geographical favouritism for futuwwat is apparent. Indeed, the most commonly cited Sufi in the book is Junayd of Baghdad, who is mentioned on seventeen occasions, and the next most frequently cited is Yawya ibn Mu‘adh, who originated in Khurasan, and the sayings of other Sufis in these chapters do not reveal any regional favouritism. It is difficult to characterise the themes of Chapters 2, 3 and 4;

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however, it is possible to highlight, albeit tentatively, the salient features. In chapter two there is an emphasis on fear of God and wordly ethics in dealing with one’s friends and the brethren, which largely recommends that one should forgive the faults of others, and that one should be humble and compassionate. Chapters 3 and 4 are characterised by the number of definitions of futuwwat and these come in the form of sayings from those considered to be eminent Sufis. The following definitions of futuwwat are found in Chapter 3. Ja‘far al-sadiq: “Futuwwat is not possible with quarrelling and backbiting. Futuwwat is feeding people, giving to them, being pleasant and honourable to them and not causing difficulties.”78 Abe ’l-rusayn Beshanjc: “[One of the principles of futuwwat is] to beautify one’s essence with God: to love and want for one’s friends the things that one loves and wants for oneself.”79 Abe Sa‘cd al-Kharraz: When asked about futuwwat he said, “To forget what one already knows, to show patience against the wishes of one’s ego, to give up expectations from ordinary people, not to want, not to expect thanks and reward, to be generous, to hide one’s state, and to be modest.”80 Fuvayl ibn ‘Iyav: When asked about futuwwat Fuvayl said, “One should be noble in dealing with people.”81 ‘Abd al-Rawman ibn abc ratam: “The signs of the fatiyAn are that they do not envy others for the gifts that Allah bestowed upon them; they do not see the faults of others, as they fear that Allah may afflict them with a similar sin; they are pleased with Allah’s judgement of their state, whether it is in their favour or against them.”82 Chapter 4 has the following definitions: Some wise men (WukumA”) said: “The one who possesses these six qualities knows that he indeed possesses futuwwat: He is thankful for the little that he has, patient amid the greatest trouble, kindly towards the ignorant, and generous so as to educate the miser; he seeks no praise for doing good, and does not stop doing what he believes to be good out of fear of criticism.”83 Yawya ibn Mu‘adh: “Futuwwat is peace, generosity, loyalty and modesty.”84 Abe ’l-rasan Sam‘en: “Futuwwat is not doing in secret that which would shame you if done openly.”85 Abe ’l-rusayn al-Malikc: “Futuwwat is superior character and behaviour, and inner purity.”86 Abe ‘Umar al-Dimashqc: “Futuwwat is considering other people’s actions with tolerance while regarding your own with dissatisfaction; respecting the rights of those who are superior, inferior or equal to you; and adhering to your friends despite their mistakes and wrongdoings

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Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism because when you love someone, his cruelty should incite your loyalty. The beloved’s turning away from you should make you go towards him. Anger either felt or expressed, should have no part in loving friendship; otherwise love is lacking, and the relationship depends only on interest.”87 Abe rafx: “Futuwwat is morals.”88 Abe ’l-rasan al-Beshanjc: “[Futuwwat] is preventing yourself from any action of which you would be ashamed if Karim and Katib, the two angels on your shoulders who record your deeds, would witness it.”89 ruvayfah al-Mar‘ashc: “Futuwwat is guarding four things: your eye, heart, tongue and desires. Prevent your eye from falling on anything unlawful, let your tongue speak only the truth; do not let your heart contain vengeance or treachery; do not let your desires lead you to wrongdoing.”90 Abe ’l-rusayn ibn Sam‘en: “Futuwwat means opposing and arguing little, being fair; preventing errors in oneself and not criticising the errors in others; trying to correct one’s faults; accepting accusations; enduring troubles caused by others; lowering one’s ego; being pleasant to both the old and the young, doing good deeds, giving good advice, and accepting good advice; loving one’s friends, and bearing peacefully with one’s enemies. These are the visible aspects of the path that are sufficient for us to know until we are able to hear and tell about the truths of futuwwat.”91

These definitions provide a useful summary of the contents of Sulamc’s treatise. The three middle chapters are framed by the first chapter (which, as described above, offers a Qur’anic and prophetic basis for futuwwat) and the last chapter, which includes anecdotes and poetry related to futuwwat from individuals and poets not associated with the Sufi tradition. The inclusion of such material may have been an attempt by Sulamc to broaden the appeal of futuwwat, demonstrating that it had a universal value, and existed even prior to advent of the Qur’an,92 and had been present among the Beduoin Arabs,93 and among Arab poets such as Marze ban.94 The frame is sealed by Sulamc in the same fashion that he started the treatise, that is to say, with reference to the Qur’anic and the prophetic tradition. In chapter five Sulamc refers to two verses which in essence serve as signs for the futuwwat ethic: “Take to forgiveness, enjoin good, and turn away from the ignorant” (7.199); “God orders justice, the doing of good and giving to relatives, and forbids indecency, evil and rebellion, and He gives you advice so that you will be mindful” (16.90). Sulamc presented a completely sanitised version of futuwwat, a form of futuwwat that must have been respectable to a Shafi‘c Sunni.95 In the first chapter there are WadCths reported on the authority of ‘f’isha,96 and there are also sayings that portray both Abe Bakr97 and ‘Alc ibn abc talib98 positively. There is also a saying attributed to Mu‘awiya ibn Abc Sufiyan.99 It is of interest to note the very brief mention of ‘Alc made by Sulamc who

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stated that the victory was given to Muwammad through futuwwat, and that “through this [ futuwwat?] God made trustworthy his brother and cousin, ‘Alc, the Commander of the Faithful.”100 (The very brief inclusion of ‘Alc is significant simply because he was to become a central figure in the futuwwat tradition. But this eminent rank was evidently not circulating in Sulamc ’s time, or if it was, he did not wish to contribute to the propagation of ‘Alc as a champion of futuwwat.) The composition of a treatise about futuwwat AdAb that conforms to Shafi‘c Sunnism may be considered as part of Sulamc’s “uxelization project” of Sufism. Indeed, in some places within the KitAb al-futuwwat it is difficult to distinguish between futuwwat and Sufism. For example, Sulamc stated, “Part of futuwwat: cleanse your heart before joining the righteous.”101 This is then supported through a prophetic WadCth which points to the donning of the Sufi cloak: “Do not wear [the garment of] wool (al-XEf ) until your heart is clean, because if you wear [the garment of] wool while your knowledge is deficient, al-JabbAr will tear them off your back.” The suggestion of these sayings is that Sulamc intended his Kitab al-futuwwat primarily for Sufis rather than any distinct group associated with “ayyArC futuwwat. It is of note too that in the text there is no mention of any particular futuwwat dress or uniform, for members of futuwwat became associated with the sarAwCl (trousers or breeches) which assume major ritual significance in later centuries, for the bestowal of the sarAwCl signified a formal initiation into the group. The absence of any reference linking futuwwat with the sarAwCl may have been Sulamc’s attempt to distinguish his futuwwat from the degenerate “ayyArC version.102 Indeed, Sulamc included a saying of Abe ‘Abdallah al-Sijzc, who replied on being asked why he was not wearing the Sufi patched cloak (al-muraqqa“): “It would be hypocrisy to wear the clothes of the fatiyAn before carrying on one’s shoulders the weight of this path. A man can carry the attributes of futuwwat only after he has tested whether or not he can support its weight.”103 It would seem that the terms Sufism and futuwwat are interchangeable here. Another interesting anecdote on this topic appears in his RisAlat alMalAmatiyya and concerns the practice of Abe rafx Nayshaberc who, on returning home would put on the maraqqa“ and woollen garments and these kind of clothes of the group (al-qawm) but when he went outside and was among the people he wore the clothes of the market traders (ahl al-sEq), for he considered wearing those [woollen] garments among the people as hypocrisy, or similar to hypocrisy, or affectation.104 In the same treatise Sulamc said that, “The [Malamatc] Shaykhs liked to wear the clothing of the rogue (shaYAr) . . . and they also liked their followers to be actually present in the market, although they fled from it in their hearts.”105 That the work was intended primarily for a reader sympathetic to Sufism is suggested by the fact that the KitAb al-futuwwat includes other references

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to Sufism. The word Sufism is mentioned in edifying teachings of masters such as Junayd.106 In such sayings Sulamc used the word Sufism or Sufi to illustrate the appropriate behaviour in futuwwat. For example, “Part of futuwwat is persistence in sincerity . . . Junayd was asked ‘What are the attributes of the Sufis?’ He said, ‘They are men who are sincere to their covenant with God ’ [Qur’an, 33.23].” And he was asked, ‘What is their appearance?’ He replied, ‘Their glances never returned on themselves, their hearts as air’ [Qur’an, 14.43].”107 And Faris is reported to have said, “Among the character traits of the fatiyAn among the Sufis is that they do not reject those who come to them and they do not pursue those who do not come, nor do they try to dominate the ones who enter their circle.”108 The “uxelization project” of Sufism through futuwwat may also be witnessed in Sulamc’s attitude towards the individual engaging in work or in a trade. He cited Abe ’l-rusayn Farisc who said, “Do not think about your sustenance, which is secured for you, but do the work (“amal) you have taken upon yourself. This is part of the work of the generous and the fatiyAn.”109 Although the nature of the work mentioned by Farisc is unclear, it does seem that Sulamc wanted to promote work within this world, as he also stated, “Do not be idle but work for your livelihood (al-kasb) until you reach the definite state of trust in God (al-tawakkul).” And he illustrated his advice with a saying from Ibrahcm al-Khawwax who stated, It is not right for a Sufi not to work and earn his livelihood (al-kasb) unless his station makes it unnecessary, or he is clearly ordered to abandon worldly work. But if he needs to work and there is no reason for him not to work, he must work. Withdrawing from work is for those who have attained a spiritual level at which they are freed from the necessity of possessions and the following of custom.110 This discussion concerning the necessity for the individual to earn his livelihood most likely reflects the complex spiritual context of Nayshapur in Sulamc’s lifetime. One of the major movements in Khurasan was the Karramiyya, named after its founder Abe ‘Abdallah Muwammad ibn Karam al-Sagazc al-Nayshaperc (d. 869).111 It appears that the Karramiyya held to an ascetic belief 112 which included a prohibition of engaging in economic activity that would lead to economic gain (kasb) and profit, for this would deprive the individual’s complete devotion to God. As a corollary to this, the Karramiyya advocated trust in God (tawakkul) and mendicancy. The influence of the Karramiyya was perhaps felt most strongly in Nayshapur, and in Sulamc’s own lifetime Karramc leaders were seeking to extend their influence on the temporal plane. In particular, Abe Bakr Muwammad ibn Iswaq, the leader of the Karramiyya from 993, was made the ra”Cs of Nayshapur by the Ghaznavid Sultan.113 Sulamc’s attitude towards work may also have been directed at certain Sufi perspectives from Iraq that “generally maintained a thorough distrust

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of earning a living.”114 This stood in contrast to the perspective of the Malamatcs which emphasised sincerity in action and thought, and belittling the selfish ego (nafs) which could be fostered as a result of pride in being associated with Sufism, its ritual activities and its apparel. As a result Malamatcs attempted to “loose” themselves among the general populace, and therefore it is likely that they saw the advantage of utilising the “urban phenomenon of young men’s corporate associations, whose membership came primarily from artisanal and wage earning classes.”115 Moreover, the Malamatc teaching of earning one’s living “contained a clear endorsement of the artisanal work ethic.”116 The nature of “corporate associations” is unclear, however. It is not known whether these groups associated on the basis of trade, religion, neighbourhood, or other agents that fostered strong bonds. While the QAbEs nAma does indeed associate the trades ( pCshawarC ) with jawAnmardC, it does so in the same way that Sulamc sanitised futuwwat.117 There is no mention of initiation rites or particular rituals and customs for the trades in the QAbEs nAma. (The specific forms of initiation and social organisation begin to appear in the century after Sulamc, and become fully developed after the Mongol invasions.) It is worth citing the opinion of Meier here, as he commented: Testimonies of their [the ahl-al-futuwwat] sense of self sacrifice and their steadfastness have been preserved but we learn nothing of life in their associations at this time. Perhaps their discipline presented a certain parallel with the attitude which Sufism demanded of its students, but from this vague possibility to draw the conclusion that in some way the one association passed on its tint to the other would be rash. So in this case as well, reservation is also due since the futuwwat-associations were by no means the exclusive property of Nayshaber. They existed everywhere.118 Meier’s judicious caution about the nature of futuwwat groupings is well founded, and it is unfortunate that some general works about Sufism in which there are passages on futuwwat appear to retroject into Sulamc’s time the futuwwat rituals and customs of a later period. Yet Malamatc principles most likely resulted in increasing the link between supporters of this spiritual movement and futuwwat corporations. Sulamc did not use the word Malamatc in his KitAb al-futuwwat and indeed it would be a mistake to consider that he uncritically accepted all Malamatc perspectives.119 For example, contrary to the Malamatc endeavour to loose oneself among the people and artisans he remarked, “Part of futuwwat is choosing solitude and isolation over sociability and associating [with people].” Sulamc then illustrated his advice with recourse to a saying of Yawya ibn Mu‘adh, who said, Everything has a fortification around it, and the fortification of the nafs is solitude and abandoning the companionship of people, for truly if

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Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism someone is not with you he will be against you, and those who help are few and the times are cruel. Hurry before they destroy you through yourself.120

Perhaps the point to make is not that Sulamc was enjoining association with bad and evil people, the kind of “Malamatc” that Ibn Jawzc was to criticise,121 but that care was required when engaged in the Malamatc lifestyle. It is only possible to speculate on the exact nature of this lifestyle. As mentioned above, the Malamatcs desired to loose themselves in society, seeking no special recognition of their spiritual endeavour. There is a good example of this in Sulamc’s RisAlat al-MalAmatiyya when ‘Abdallah rajjam (or ‘Abdallah the cupper) came to talk with ramden Qaxxar about abandoning his profession. The latter advised him not to relinquish his profession and said that he preferred the name of ‘Abdallah rajjam to ‘Abdallah ‘Arif (or ‘Abdallah the mystic) or ‘Abdallah Zahid (or ‘Abdallah the ascetic).122 This anecdote is suggestive of a close connection between the Malamatcs and the artisans, the bazaar, and the common people who were associated with futuwwat. Chabbi has remarked that the names of many of the Malamatcs (especially the first generation of Malamatcs) indicate their crafts or professions, such as Qaxxar (the bleacher), raddad (the ironsmith), rajjam (the cupper), and Khayyat (the tailor).123 In their attempts to attract little attention to themselves, the Malamatcs did not engage in typical Sufi practice, such as the samA“, and neither did they show attachment to teaching their doctrines or compiling books.124 One wonders whether Sulamc endorsed this latter practice as it was he who set out the Malamatc beliefs and practices in his RisAlat al-MalAmatiyya, and he also observed that, “Part of futuwwat: being generous in giving advice to the brethren.”125 This point once again is suggestive of his “uxelization project.” Sulamc reported that on leaving Baghdad, Abe rafx was asked again about futuwwat, and he said, “Futuwwat is practiced by actions not by speech.”126 It is hardly surprising that the Baghdadis were “surprised” at his words; some may even have considered them downright rude (even if they are reminiscent of Junayd’s aphorism that “futuwwat is in Syria, eloquence is in Iraq, and sincerity is in Khurasan”). However, it is difficult to imagine the kind of sting in Abe rafx’s short definition coming from the tongue or the pen of the more moderate Sufism of Sulamc. Since the Malamatcs did not write books, they would hardly have established large khAnaqAhs in which to train and nurture their disciples or followers. However, Sulamc’s KitAb al-futuwwat is full of references to the brethren (ikhwAn), and mention has already been made of the existence of his own small establishment which some have considered a khAnaqAh. With the existing material it is not possible to say whether there existed futuwwat groupings in Nayshapur that possessed their own meeting place such as a khAnaqAh, or langar.127 Although there may have been an absence of “Sufi” or Malamatc khAnaqAhs, there certainly were models which social groupings

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(such as futuwwat organisations) could utilise for their meetings. This is made abundantly clear in Sufi works such as AsrAr al-TawWCd, and it is also evident in the practices of the Karramiyya. The latter were preachers who spread their message primarily among the urban and rural poor, stressing the need for moral and social reforms. Their initial popularity has been attributed in part to the establishment of khAnaqAhs in various locations. Al-Maqdisc (the contemporary geographer – d. c. 1000) noted that Karramiyyah support and khAnaqAhs were located in Baghdad, Fusyay (Egypt), and Jerusalem,128 and it was reported that some 4,000 followers in Lebanon were living in monasteries,129 but the stronghold was in Khurasan where many khAnaqAhs could be found.130 The existence of these khAnaqAhs must have entailed sophisticated organisational skills and responsible attitudes towards communal living. It would not be surprising if there had been certain rules that had been drafted by Ibn Karram or one of the Karramiyyah leaders, but there is no available evidence to support such speculation. As the first Persian Sufi to compose a lengthy treatise on futuwwat, Sulamc’s contribution to the Sufi development of the concept cannot be overstated. His understanding of futuwwat is as a worldly and ethical concept, and one that supported a moderate and sober form of Sufism. In Sulamc’s futuwwat there are no ecstatic moments or uninhibited statements to parallel those of rallaj or Bayazcd. Moreover, the method and style of his treatise show that his writings were aimed at the erudite and learned in society, and his treatise attempted to base Sufi-futuwwat on the same academic foundations as other Islamic sciences (through the citation of isnAds). Although there is little explicit evidence that Sulamc’s dealing with futuwwat was a response to the various manifestions of futuwwat in the Persian- and Arabic-speaking worlds, it is nevertheless interesting to speculate whether his was an attempt to appropriate and sanitise the concept.

The spiritualisation of futuwwat in early Persian Sufism That futuwwat was to become a lasting feature of the Sufi tradition there can be no doubt, as most of the major Sufis after Sulamc wrote on the subject, including his student Abe ’l-Qasim al-Qushayrc (986–1074), whose famous RisAla includes a chapter on the topic.131 Qushayrc’s treatment of futuwwat adds little to Sulamc’s longer treatise; in fact his chapter is Sulamc’s KitAb al-futuwwat writ small. The chapter opens by referring to the Qur’anic basis to futuwwat, and this is then reinforced with a prophetic WadCth. Having given a scriptural basis for futuwwat, Qushayrc presents a handful of short definitions of futuwwat from past Sufi masters (from both Baghdad and Khurasan), and this is followed by lengthier anecdotes about various dimensions of futuwwat which involve both Sufis and “ayyArAn, such as the celebrated Neh. The Sufi appropriation of futuwwat by Sulamc and Qushayrc was then developed a degree further by one of their contemporaries, Abe ’l-rasan

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Kharaqanc (963–1033), who lived just north of Bisyam in Khurasan. Kharaqanc has not received much attention from scholars in the West,132 however in Iran he was and is a well known Sufi. For example, the celebrated mystic martyr Suhrawardc (al-maqtEl) (d. 1191) believed that spiritual wisdom emanated through four sources: Hermetic, Greek, Indian and Persian. In the Persian sphere, this wisdom was passed along a line of mythological kings to Abe Yazcd al-Bisyamc and rallaj, and then on to Abe ’l-rasan al-Kharaqanc, “the star of Amul and Kharraqan.”133 Moreover, on meeting Kharaqanc, the famous Persian Sufi, ‘Abdallah Ansarc (1006–89) was so impressed that he described him as “the master and ghawth of the age.”134 In contemporary Iran, Kharaqanc ’s mausoleum is well maintained and receives many visitors and pilgrims. In addition, Shafc‘c Kadkanc has recently published several texts, largely collections of Kharaqanc’s sayings, which are relevant to this study since the terms jawAnmard or jawAnmardC appear frequently.135 Two of the sections in the publication are versions of a chapter that appears in ‘Ayyar’s Tadhkirat al-AwliyA”136 (although the authorship of this chapter is subject to much debate). The diction in Kharaqanc ’s sayings reflects a localised form of Persian, and it is reported that his Arabic was weak, which may explain his use of the word jawAnmard or jawAnmardC, rather than fatA or futuwwat Kharaqanc’s sayings reveal a degree of non-conformity to “orthodox” Islam, and a high degree of self-assurance on the spiritual path. Shafc‘c Kadkanc has highlighted his brazen words (or familiarity) with God, and cites a passage in which God asks Kharaqanc, “Do you want me to tell the people everything that I know about you so that the people would stone you?” Kharaqanc quickly retorted, “Do you want me to tell the people everything I know about your mercy and your kindness so that no-one would worship you?”137 Shafc‘c Kadkanc comments that Kharaqanc’s familiarity with God is unmatched in the history of Sufism and Persian and Islamic “irfAn (including Bayazcd and rallaj.138 Moreover, his sayings include descriptions of his own spiritual experiences that would have been quite shocking to non-Sufis: “And he said, ‘When my tongue was opened in the dhikr of the Truth’s unity, I saw the heavens and the earths were circumambulating around me, and the people were unaware.’ ”139 But it is Kharaqanc’s use of the terms jawAnmard and jawAnmardC that is of interest in this chapter, for, as Shafc‘c Kadkanc comments, he understood jawAnmardC as a “sublime rank of wayfaring and traversing the path. Among his peers, this feature (which is mentioned in ‘Memorial of the Saints’) is something very uncommon.”140 To illustrate this, and to show how Kharaqanc portrayed jawAnmardC not just as a worldly ethic for the Sufis but one that focused primarily on God, the following will include a number of his sayings relating to jawAnmardC. Kharaqanc’s sayings include several definitions of the term, and like many of these that appear in Sufi sources, there is an emphasis on actions, rather than words. Thus he commented, “The wise (dAnishmandAn) say what they

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have heard, and the jawAnmardAn say what they have done and seen.”141 On a similar theme he remarked, “I have seen people who have been engaged in the interpretation of the Qur’an. The jawAnmardAn were busy interpreting themselves,”142 which is a saying that has pronounced parallels with the Malamatc tradition. That the jawAnmard was a person of action is clear, and Kharaqanc spelt out what these actions were. “He said, ‘JawAnmardC is an ocean with three sources: the first is generosity, the second is compassion (shafaghat) for the people, and third is independence from people and need for God.’ ”143 The theme of generosity and help for one’s brothers is developed in many places. For example: They asked, “How does the jawAnmard know that he is a jawAnmard?” He said, “Know that if God Most High performs a thousand miracles (karAmat) for a [ jawAnmard’s] brother, and He performs one for him [the jawAnmard ], [the latter] will take it and place it on top of [the thousand miracles performed for the former] so that it will [benefit] his brother.”144 And he said, “The jawAnmardAn are people who do not burden others, such as a brother. [When] they see [their] brothers their hearts burn with love for the Truth . . . [and] they comfort their brothers.”145 The following also illustrates the generosity and selflessness of the jawAnmard: They asked who is the jawAnmard? He said. “[The jawAnmard ] is the person who pitches a tent at the side of hell on Judgement Day and takes the hand of the person that the Truth has sent to hell. [The jawAnmard] pleads with the Truth, and he leads [the sinner] to heaven and pitches his tent at the Scales. Since [the pan of] sins are heavier than [the] acts of obedience [the jawAnmard tries] to pull down the scales. He pitches his tent somewhere else and gives assistance to the servant.”146 Most of these definitions have a certain resonance with the ethical futuwwat that was espoused by Sulamc. However, there are many of Kharaqanc’s sayings on jawAnmardC that transcend the worldly, ethical dimension and focus much more specifically on the individual’s relationship with God. For example: And he said, “The wind of love will blow on the heart of the person who in yearning for Him has been burnt and turned to ashes, and it will whisk up those ashes and fill the sky with them. You can see there if you wish to be a witness; you can hear there if you wish to be a listener; and you can taste there if you wish to be a taster. You must seek a mujaradd and a jawAnmard there.”147 Moreover, Kharaqanc depicts a special relationship between God and the jawAnmardAn:

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Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism He said, “God Most High does not tell the secret of the jawAnmardAn to this world or that world, and they too do not tell the secret of the Truth.”148 And he said, “There is an external dimension (ZAhirC ) for this knowledge, and there is an outer form to the external [knowledge] (ZAhir-i ZAhirC ). And there is an inner [knowledge] (“ilm-i bAYin), and an inner form to the inner knowledge (bAYin-i bAYinC ). The external knowledge and the outer form of external knowledge is what the “ulama say. The inner knowledge is what the jawAnmardAn say to the jawAnmardAn. The inner form of the inner knowledge belongs to the jawAnmardAn with the Truth, and there is no path for the creatures there.”149 And he said, “The prophet entered heaven and he saw many creatures. He said, ‘Oh God! How did they get here?’ [God] said, ‘Through [My] mercy.’ ” And he said, “Whoever enters into God’s mercy is able to enter. And whoever enters through the intercession of the Prophets and Friends of God is able to enter. The jawAnmardAn enter through God, and God Most High takes them along a path to which the creatures have no access.”150

This intimacy with God is a result of the intense love that jawAnmardAn have for God which eclipses all else: “And he said, ‘The food and drink of the jawAnmardAn is love for God.’ ”151 This love for God is a deep yearning, and to stay focused on the path requires great himmat, a term which denotes a mixture of endurance, aspiration and effort: And he said, “If God Most High says, ‘What do you wish from this association with Abe ’l-rasan [Kharaqanc]?’ each person would say something [different].” The shaykh said, “If he asks me, ‘What do you wish from this association with the jawAnmardAn?’ I would say, ‘I want their aspiration (himmat).’ ”152 The result of this himmat is an ontological station that transcends rationality and the human condition. It is a state that denotes a unity (tawWCd ) in which the identity of the individual becomes blurred: “And he said, “JawAnmardC is a tongue without saying, sight without seeing, a body without action, a heart without thought, a spring from an ocean without shore.”153 The following is a rather enigmatic account of the dissolution of the individual: And he said, “In this path there is a market, and they call it the market of the jawAnmardAn and the market of the path. Have you seen it?” They said, “No.” He said, “In that market there are pleasant faces. When the runners reach there they stay there. Those faces are miracles (karAmat), and there is much obedience and [also] this world and the afterlife there. On reaching [this place] the servants remain there; they do not reach God. It is so better for the servant to pass by the people and go into solitude

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through God and place his head on the prayer carpet. [It is better that the servant] leaves his self [and] passes the ocean of kindness (luYf ) [and] reaches the unity of the Truth. He expels all of this from him and he himself vanishes.”154 In effect, the jawAnmard must be selfless, and his sincerity results in the absence of a will or ego, to the extent that his acts are regarded as God’s acts. The criticism in the following quotation of formal aspects of Sufism is worthy of note: And he said, “All those who endeavour (mujtahidAn) cannot escape these three states: obedience to [their] body; verbal dhikr; and fikr of the heart. All of these are like a running stream which flows into the ocean. It is unclear where they appear in this ocean. All three vanish.” And he said, “Where the ocean appears, all the acts [of the mujtahid] and those of all the jawAnmardAn are submerged. JawAnmardC is when you do not see your own acts.” And he said, “Your acts are like a lamp and the sea is like the sun. When the sun comes out what need is there of a lamp?” And he said, “Oh jawAnmardAn! Beware for you cannot see Him [by wearing] the Sufi cloak (maraqqa“) or by prostrating on the prayer carpet. They will pulverise whoever makes this claim. Say whatever you wish, it’s alright. [But] a jawanmard is he who does not have an ego (nafs) or a soul ( jAnC ).”155 Since the jawAnmardAn enjoyed a special relationship with God, it follows that they were accorded a status higher than that of most other individuals. Indeed, Kharaqanc equated their station with that of the prophet Muwammad: And he said, “The learned (“ulama) say, ‘We are the heirs of the prophets.’ We are the heirs of the prophet because we have whatever the prophet had. [But] the prophet chose the dervish way (darwCshC ), and the dervish way is our [path]; he was generous, had a good character, was not treacherous, was considerate and a guide for the people, he was not covetous, saw evil and good from God, did not deceive the people, was not a prisoner to time, did not fear whatever the people were afraid of, did not hope for whatever the people hoped for, and was not in the slightest bit haughty. All of these are the attributes of the jawAnmardAn.”156 Kharaqanc appears to have considered the jawAnmardAn as the select among the Friends of God (awliya): “And he said, ‘The wise (kharadmandAn) see God with the light of demonstrative proof (dalCl), and the friends (dEstAn) [see] with the light of certainty ( yaqCn), but the jawAnmardAn see through the light of seeing face to face (ma“Ayana).’ ”157 In one saying, Kharaqanc provided

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a fivefold taxonomy of believers in which the jawAnmardAn sit at the pinnacle, and in which there is a Qur’anic appeal to universalism: He said, “There are five qiblas: the qibla of the believers is the Ka‘ba; and the Holy House (bayt al-muqaddas)158 has been the qibla of the other prophets and nations; and there is the Bayt al-Ma“mEr159 in the sky where the angels meet; fourth is the Throne160 which is the qibla for prayer; fifth is the qibla of the jawAnmardAn. So whichever way you turn, there is the face of God.” (2.115)161 Kharaqanc provides another fivefold taxonomy with a Qur’anic basis which features the jawAnmardAn: There are five waters, three of which the jawAnmardAn love. First is the water of life; second is the [water] of the pond of Kawthar; third is the water of heaven; fourth is the water that the wise (“ArifAn) love, which is the water of love (maWabbat); and fifth is the water that God loves, which is the tears of the servants, especially the sinners.162 Although the jawAnmardAn enjoy a station higher than any other creature Kharaqanc’s sayings connect them frequently with sorrow or grief. Much Sufi literature discusses God’s absence, the difficulty in receiving the attention of the beloved, and the impossibility of comprehending the fullness of the divine, so perhaps these factors may have contributed to Kharaqanc’s emphasis on sorrow.163 The following provide some examples: “He said, ‘Yesterday a jawAnmard sighed and the heaven and earth were burnt.’ ”164 “And he said, ‘God Most High divided up His destiny for the creatures, the share of the jawAnmardAn was sorrow.’ ”165 “And he said, ‘The litany of the jawAnmardAn is a sorrow greater than the two worlds. The sorrow is that they want to remember Him appropriately but they cannot.’ ”166 This litany (or sorrow) may cause the jawAnmardAn such anxiety and confusion that they omit their obligatory prayers: “Oh God! You have made the jawAnmardAn miss their prayers in their daily acts, and they are lamenting to you about this. What you have done with them, you have done to their litanies.”167 There are also suggestions that receiving revelation or inspiration from God carries a great responsibility; for the jawAnmard this responsibility fundamentally included generosity, preferring others over oneself, and selfsacrifice; and to live up to the expectations of a jawAnmard is an onerous task: He said, “The eyes of the jawAnmardAn are upon the unseen of God so that when something falls upon their heart, they can taste whatever the Prophets and Friends of God have tasted. The heart of the jawAnmard is so heavy (bih bArC dar buwad ) that people would perish if a particle of that weight were placed upon them.”168

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Another argument for sorrow being a distinguishing feature of the jawAnmardAn is that they rejected this world as a place where one would be distracted from God, that is to say, this world was a realm of sorrow: “He said, ‘The whole of the heavens and earth, [and] obedience is worth nothing with the rejection of these jawAnmardAn.’ ”169 The depiction of Kharaqanc’s ideal jawAnmard, with the distinguishing feature of sorrow, is reminiscent of early Malamatc thought. But it is the sincerity of his words that most strikingly parallels Malamatc ideas. His brazen words (or familiarity) with God are a good indication of this, but there are so many other examples of sincerity in action, such as, “Prayer and fasting are great acts (buzurg ast) but it is better to expel pride, jealousy and greed from the heart.”170 One day [Kharaqanc] said to someone, “Where are you going?” The man replied, “To Hijaz.” [Kharaqanc] asked, “What are you going there for?” He answered, “I am seeking God.” [Kharaqanc] said, “Where is the God of Khurasan that makes you [want to] go to Hijaz. The prophet said, ‘Seek knowledge, even unto China.’ He didn’t say, ‘Seek God!’ ”171 Kharaqanc’s jawanmardC was a station that was reserved for a spiritual élite, that is to say, for individuals who enjoyed the closest proximity to God. This was a theme that was elaborated by Ibn ‘Arabc (1165–1240), the great mystic from Andalusia whose voluminous writings have been the subject of much speculation and commentary in the Islamic world and beyond. In terms of style, Kharaqanc and Ibn ‘Arabc are separated from one another by a vast chasm; whereas Kharaqanc’s sayings are daring, often short and pithy, and relatively easy to comprehend, “Ibn ‘Arabc has always been considered one of the most difficult of authors. This is due to many factors, not least extraordinary erudition, consistently high level of discourse, constantly shifting perspectives, and diversity of styles.”172 Although Ibn ‘Arabc neither wrote in Persian nor did he visit the territory that is now Iran, the effect of his thought on Persian Sufis cannot be overstated; as Chittick has remarked, he “is probably the most influential author of works on Sufism in Islamic history.”173 This justifies a tangent on his views on futuwwat which logically follow on from those of Kharaqanc, and which can serve to conclude this chapter. (It is perhaps appropriate that Ibn ‘Arabc wrote on futuwwat as he claimed descent from Hatim al-ta’c.)174 Ibn ‘Arabc’s masterpiece, al-FutEWAt al-makkiyyah (“The Meccan Openings”), includes three chapters that deal specifically with futuwwat.175 (It is of interest that he completed his final version of this work in 1238, so he must have been aware of the great changes that surrounded futuwwat under the Caliph Naxir li-Dcn Allah and his spiritual advisor Abe rafx ‘Umar Suhrawardc, which will be discussed in the next chapter.) One of the discussions of futuwwat in chapter forty-two of this work illustrates the complexity and subtlety of his writings and his penchant for up-turning conventionally held

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wisdom.176 Under focus is his understanding of 18.60, “when Moses said to his youth,” with which he weaves an argument with reference to prophetic WadCth and Sufi anecdotes. The received understanding of this verse is that the fatA is Moses’s servant, and Ibn ‘Arabc gives a brief nod to this view by saying that the youth has been in the service of Moses. He then proceeds into a discussion in which he says that all the prophets are gatekeepers to a road that leads to God, and that Muwammad is the door-keeper (WAjib al-bAb) for all the prophets because his message is universal. Any other prophet is like a porter for a porter (WAjib al-WAjib), which is supported with reference to the WadCth, “Adam and those after him are under my banner.” The inference is that Moses’s youth in 18.60 was Muwammad, that is to say, the Muwammad who existed before his creaturely manifestation, and again this is supported with a WadCth, “I was a prophet when Adam was between the water and clay.” Ibn ‘Arabc thus subverted the traditional understanding of the servant ( fatA ) in 18.60, but he then adopted a more orthodox position by arguing for the superiority of Muwammad. He commented that Muwammad said, “If Moses had been alive in our time there would have been no path for him except to follow me.” He seems to be referring back to the service (khidmat) that the youth in 18.60 rendered to Moses, and thereby Ibn ‘Arabc resolved the paradox of Muwammad being the servant of Moses by citing the former’s words that “the servant[s] of the people are their masters.”177 Futuwwat and service were strongly linked in Ibn ‘Arabi’s worldview, and his discussion continued with the observation that whoever possessed more of the attribute of futuwwat had a more sublime station near God. At this point, Ibn ‘Arabc problematised futuwwat with reference to the story of the servant of Neh the “ayyAr and the ant, which was told by Qushayrc and Maybedc (and which was quoted in the previous chapter). Whereas Qushayrc and Maybedc conclude their story in praise of the servant for not disturbing the ant (despite being rather tardy in his preparations for Neh’s guests), Ibn ‘Arabc had the master (Neh) applaud the servant for taking care of his futuwwat with his treatment of the ant, but lamented that the guests had to wait for their refreshment. Ibn ‘Arabc’s purpose here was to direct attention to the Islamic reference of futuwwat. Neh’s servant had a dilemma of choosing between two conflicting interests (the ant or the guests), and for Ibn ‘Arabc, in such a situation the fatA must think carefully to choose the most appropriate and prudent course of action under the shari“a.178 Ibn ‘Arabc concluded his chapter with the observation, “Now in truth you have understood that the fatA is the person who uses his strength and power in [his interaction] with the people in accordance with the satisfaction of God.” It is of interest that in the same chapter of the FutEWat, Ibn ‘Arabc makes a connection between futuwwat and the Malamatcs.179 It is clear that the Greatest Shaykh regarded the Malamatcs with high esteem, for he said that God had enabled the Malamatc to master his soul and had given victory to his spirit. Since he masters his nafs, the fatA never does anything except out

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of mercy for others, and for this reason he never has an enemy. He prefers the rights of others over his own self-interest, and he never engages in a futile task. Ibn ‘Arabc links this mastery over the nafs with the Qur’anic story of Ibrahcm smashing the idols. In his discussion of Ibrahcm, Ibn ‘Arabc defined futuwwat in the following way: It is told that when [the prophet] Ibrahcm reached old age he asked God, “What is this?” He heard an answer, “It is dignity (waqAr).” So he said, “Oh God! Increase my dignity.” This is the state and the station of futuwwat, for the fatiyAn are so-called because they have obtained possession of all the noble character traits. But no one has the ability to possess the noble character traits, and no one has discovered the situations for using these noble character traits in an effective fashion.180 . . . No-one is worthy of the name fatA except the person who recognises the worth of his own existence and knows the value of his service in relation to his God. He will behave with each person according to his existential value, and that person who is worthy of progress will progress while the person who deserves to remain behind will stay behind.181 The fatA is worthy of escaping from his egoistic inclinations and returning to his creator who is his master and lord. And he calls himself “servant,” for nothing is worthy for the servant except subjection to his master and opposing the whims of his nafs, and not obeying anyone other than Him. His wish has always been to be obedient and he has observed His limits and courtesies, and he is not someone who recognises a partner with his Master – in the obligations of servanthood – and he does not exceed the limit in anything that concerns his God, and during this period of wayfaring he does not think about people’s acceptance or opposition. As a result of mastery of the nafs, the individual who recognises his own existence in fact recognises his Lord, or God, otherwise described as absolute existence. The above citations clearly reflect that for Ibn ‘Arabc futuwwat was an extremely lofty spiritual station, attained only by a select few. Yet he seems to have believed that he was among the privileged few to reach this station. Several scholars have noted that Ibn ‘Arabc portrayed his own encounter with a mysterious fatA, who ultimately was his lord. As Chodkiewicz says, “We understand that this fata, this luminous double, confronts him [Ibn ‘Arabc ], in a vision whose beauty transfigures him, with the essence of his own reality; thus he has become that which he has been in all eternity.”182 To witness God in the form of a fatA, according to Ibn ‘Arabc’s worldview, is not surprising simply because futuwwat is one of God’s attributes: Futuwwat is a divine attribute by way of meaning, but there is no word derived from it by which God is named. Both the Law and rational proofs

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Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism show that he possesses independence from the cosmos absolutely . . . One who has such independence and then brings the cosmos into existence does not bring it into existence because of his poverty toward it. He only brings the cosmos into existence for the sake of charity toward it in spite of the fact that He alone possesses being. This is futuwwat itself.183

Notes 1 Also known as Abe ’l-rasan al-Beshanjc. See ‘Abd al-Rawman Sulamc, KitAb TabaqAt al-SEfiyya, Ner al-Dcn Sharcba (ed.), Cairo, 1969, p. 370. This work will henceforth be referred to as T.S. 2 Kashf al-MaWjEb, M. ‘Abidc (ed.), Tehran: Suresh, 1386/2007, p. 59. 3 See for example, L. Massignon, HallAj: Mystic and Martyr, translated, edited and abridged by Herbert Mason, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994. 4 Kitâb al-Tawâsîn par Aboû Al Moghîth al-Rosayn ibn ManXoûr al-Rallâj, Louis Massignon (ed.), Paris: Librairie Paul Geuthner, 1913, p. 50. 5 The translation here is largely that of M. Sells, who uses the word valour for futuwwat. See the translation by Michael Sells in his chapter entitled “Hallaj: Iblis as Tragic Lover (The ta Scn of Before-Time and Ambiguity,” in Early Islamic Mysticism, New York, Paulist Press, 1996. 6 Sells “Hallaj: Iblis as Tragic Lover,” p. 270. 7 This argument reflects the Qur’an, 26.18–19. Tirmidhc’s Arabic original can be found in Massignon, Kitâb al-Tawâsîn, p. 170. 8 Jacqueline Chabbi, “Remarques sur le dévelopment historique des mouvements ascétiques et mystiques au Khurasan,” Studia Islamica, 46, 1977, p. 26, n. 1. 9 SulamC, T.S., p. 454. 10 Kenneth Honerkamp, “A Sufi Itinerary of Tenth Century Nishapur Based on a Treatise by Abe ‘Abd al-Rawman al-Sulamc,” Journal of Islamic Studies, 17(1), 2006, p. 47, n. 10. 11 A good introduction to the Malamatc movement can be found in A.H. Zarrcnkeb, JustajE dar taXawwuf-i IrAn, Tehran: Amcr Kabcr (4th edn), 1369/1990 –1, in a chapter entitled “Ahl-i Malamat wa fatiyan,” pp. 335–57. In English, one of the most useful introductions to the Malamatc movement is Sara Sviri, “rakcm Tirmidhc and the Malamatc Movement,” in Leonard Lewisohn (ed.), Classical Persian Sufism from its Origin to Rumi, London: KNP, 1993. 12 “[One of the principles of the Malamatcs] is opposing the pleasure of acts of obedience [to God] because it is a deadly poison.” Sulamc’s RisAlat alMalAmatiyya is included in Naxr Allah Perjawadc, MajmE“-yi ANAr-i AbE “Abd al-RaWmAn SulamC, Tehran: Markaz-i Nashr-i Danishgahc (2 vols), 1980–3. The quote here is from vol. II, p. 105. 13 RisAlat al-MalAmatiyya, p. 103. 14 Ibid., pp. 117–18. A similar teaching related to futuwwat is found in Sulamc’s KitAb al-bayAn al Zalal al-fuqarA”, translated by Kenneth Honerkamp in Three Early Sufi Texts, Louisville, KY: Fons Vitae, 2003, p. 146, where he writes: Among the forms of chivalrous conduct ( futuwwat) of the wealthy is that they serve the fuqara [and provide for them] while being aware that [the fuqara] are superior to them and that they [themselves] cannot reach their degrees [of piety]. Whereas the futuwwat of the fuqara is that they realize their own incapacity to fulfil the obligations of faqr, that they recognise the virtues of the wealthy, have compassion for them, and pray that God may alleviate them of the tribulations of wealth.

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15 G. Böwering, “The Qur’an Commentary of Al-Sulamc,” in W.B. Hallaq and D.P. Little (eds), Islamic Studies Presented to Charles J Adams, Leiden: Brill, 1991, p. 44. Chabbi calls this duwayra a khAnaqAh, “Remarques sur le dévelopment,” p. 58, n. 2. 16 Javid Mojadeddi, The Biographical Tradition in Sufism, London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2000, p. 9. 17 Kenneth Honerkamp, in his “Introduction” to two of Sulamc’s texts that appear in N. Heer and K. Honerkamp (trans.), Three Early Sufi Texts, p. 87. 18 Rkia Cornell, Early Sufi Women, Louisville, KY: Fons Vitae, 1999, p. 39. 19 Honerkamp, “Introduction” to his translation of Sulamc ’s “Stations of the Righteous,” in Three Early Sufi Texts, p. 91. This statement is intriguing, especially in light of the discussions on the topic of futuwwat between Junayd’s followers and the Malamatcs. 20 Sviri, “rakcm Tirmidhc and the Malamatc Movement,” p. 593. 21 Cornell, Early Sufi Women, p. 37. 22 There are two editions of Sulamc’s KitAb TabaqAt al-SEfiyya. The first to be published was edited by Johannes Pedersen and was published by Brill in 1960. The second was edited by Ner al-Dcn Sharcba and was published in Cairo in 1969. Sharcba’s version is more useful for scholarly research because of the inclusion of indexes. The references to the KitAb TabaqAt al-SEfiyya are from Sharcba’s version, henceforth referred to as T.S. 23 T.S., p. 84. 24 T.S., p. 89. 25 T.S., p. 103. 26 T.S., pp. 117–18. 27 T.S., p. 146. 28 T.S., p. 183. 29 T.S., p. 192. 30 T.S., p. 193. 31 T.S., p. 216. 32 T.S., p. 254. 33 T.S., p. 255. 34 T.S., p. 301. 35 T.S., p. 315. 36 T.S., p. 361. 37 T.S., p. 458. 38 T.S., p. 461. 39 T.S., p. 506. 40 T.S., p. 511. 41 This Arabic work and an English translation both appear in Cornell, Early Sufi Women. 42 Cornell, Early Sufi Women, pp. 110 –11. 43 Ibid., pp. 190 –1. 44 Ibid., pp. 196 –7. 45 Ibid., pp. 198 – 9. 46 Ibid., pp. 210 –11. 47 Ibid., pp. 214 –15. 48 Ibid., p. 210, n. 166. 49 Ibid., pp. 222 – 3. 50 Ibid., pp. 238 – 9. 51 Ibid., pp. 256 –7. 52 Ibid., pp. 258 – 9. 53 M.J. Mahjub, “Chivalry and Early Persian Sufism,” in Lewisohn, Classical Persian Sufism, p. 562. See also the comments of Lewisohn, ibid., p. 562, n. 26.

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54 L. Massignon, “La ‘Futuwwat’ ou ‘Pacte d’Honneur Artisanal’ entre les travailleurs musulmans au Moyen Age,” La Nouvelle Clio, IV, 1952, pp. 190–1. 55 There was a female organisation called the BAjiAn (which in Turkish is a plural form of “sister” or wife). See F. Taeschner, “Akhi,” EI 2, vol. I, Leiden: Brill, 1960, pp. 321–3. 56 Hanaway, “Persian Popular Romances before the Safavid Period,” p. 159. 57 HthAr is a word that means giving preference to others over one’s own interests. 58 Sviri, “rakcm Tirmidhc,” p. 606. 59 Süleyman Atel, Tasavvufun Fütüvve/KitAb al-futuvvat, Ankara: Ankara Üniversitesi mlahiyat Fakültesi Yayınları, 1977. 60 Naxr Allah Perjawadc, MajmE“-yi ANAr-i AbE “Abd al-RaWmAn SulamC. KitAb al-futuwwat will henceforth be referred to as K.F. 61 The English translation is entitled Book of Sufi Chivalry (translated by Sheikh Tosun Bayrak al-Jerrahi al-Halveti), London and The Hague: East West Publications, 1983. This English version will be referred to as BSC. 62 Faouzi Skali, Futuwah, Paris: Albin Michel, 1989. 63 Honerkamp takes a different view. In his taxonomy of Sulamc’s treatises, he describes three kinds of works: the first is for a general interest audience; the second is for a more erudite Sufi community; and the third is for Sufi initiates. He argues that KitAb al-futuwwat was written for a general audience and those committed to Sufism. See his “A Sufi Itinerary,” p. 48. 64 According to Bosworth, the “ayyArAn were “ubiquitous” in Khurasan, “as in other parts of Persia and Iraq.” See C.E. Bosworth, The Ghaznavids, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1963, p. 168. 65 K.F., p. 228; BSC, p. 36. 66 Schimmel has counted 212 “definitions” of futuwwat in the KitAb al-futuwwat. A. Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1975, p. 246. However, Sulamc’s work does not really offer definitions, for the book is structured on a series of paragraphs which commence with the phrase min al-futuwwat (part of futuwwat) and then it proceeds to discuss certain character traits with reference to the words of famous individuals. 67 T.S., p. 119. 68 See Michael Cooperson, “Ibn Hanbal and Bishr al-Hafi: A Case Study in Biographical Tradition,” Studia Islamica, 86, 1997, p. 76. 69 Qur’an, 18.13–14, 18.18 (K.F., p. 228; BSC, p. 36). 70 K.F., p. 229; BSC, p. 37. 71 Ibid. 72 K.F., p. 244; BSC, p. 43. 73 K.F., p. 243; BSC, p. 43. 74 K.F., p. 260; BSC, p. 54. 75 K.F., p. 263; BSC, p. 56. 76 K.F., p. 267; BSC, p. 59. 77 See Sulamc’s Ma”salat darajAt al-XAdiqCn fC l-taXawwuf, translated by Honerkamp as “The Stations of the Righteous,” in Three Early Sufi Texts, pp. 119–28. 78 K.F., p. 275; BSC, p. 64. 79 K.F., p. 278; BSC, p. 67. 80 K.F., p. 279; BSC, p. 68. 81 K.F., p. 283; BSC, p. 71. 82 K.F., p. 288; BSC, p. 75. 83 K.F., p. 299; BSC, p. 84. 84 Ibid. 85 K.F., pp. 299 –300; BSC, p. 84. 86 K.F., p. 300; BSC, p. 84. 87 Ibid.

Futuwwat and early Persian Sufism 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95

96 97 98 99 100

101 102

103 104 105 106

57

K.F., p. 305; BSC, p. 88. K.F., p. 306; BSC, p. 89. K.F., pp. 306 –7; BSC, p. 89. K.F., p. 307; BSC, p. 90. K.F., p. 315; BSC, p. 98. The anecdote is about ‘Abdallah ibn Jud‘an who was a chief of the Taym tribe at the time of the Rilf al-FuVEl (Alliance of the Virtuous). K.F., p. 325; BSC, p. 104. K.F., p. 323; BSC, p. 103. Ibn Nujayd, Sulamc’s maternal grandfather, was a Shafi‘c scholar. Sulamc also “received his full accreditation as a Sufi from . . . Abe al-Qasim Ibrahcm al-Naxrabadhc . . . a Shafi’c scholar of WadCth.” See Böwering, “The Qur’an Commentary of Al-Sulamc,” p. 44. There are two WadCths from ‘f’isha in K.F., p. 233, BSC, p. 39; a further ‘f’isha WadCth is found in K.F., p. 243, BSC, p. 42. K.F., p. 23; BSC, p. 40. K.F., p. 236; BSC, p. 40. K.F., p. 295; BSC, p. 80. K.F., p. 227; BSC, p. 34. The description of ‘Alc as Muwammad’s brother is of interest. It is repeated in subsequent works on futuwwat, such as that of fmulc (see next chapter) who has Muwammad say to ‘Alc, “You are the son of a fatA and the brother of a Fata.” Muwammad explained that ‘Alc’s father (in futuwwat) was Ibrahim and his brother was Muwammad himself. Muwammad’s futuwwat came through Ibrahcm and ‘Alc’s futuwwat came through Muwammad (Shams al-Dcn fmulc, “Rasala-yi futuwwatiyya,” from his “Nafa’is al-funen fc ‘Ara’is al-‘Uyen,” included in M. sarraf (ed.), RisAla-yi jawAnmardAn, Tehran: Institut Français en Iran (2nd edn), 1991, p. 64.) The idea of ‘Alc as Muwammad’s symbolic brother has some historical basis, as “After the Hijra . . . the Prophet instituted brotherhood between the emigrants (Mohaoeren) and the helpers (Anxar), [and] he chose ‘Alc as his own brother.” See I.K. Poonawala, “ ‘ALh B. ABh tfLEB: i. Life,” Encyclopedia Iranica, vol. I, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1985, pp. 838– 43. It is noteworthy too that Sayyid ‘Alc Hamadanc, in his futuwwat nAma, quotes the Qur’an (49.10) which reads, “Surely, the believers are brothers.” This futuwwat nAma is found in M. Rcyav (ed.), Futuwwat nAma: tArCkh, AyCn, AdAb wa rusEm, Tehran: Asaycr, 1382/2003–4, p. 187. K.F., pp. 241–2; BSC, p. 42. Scholars have argued that the distinctive form of clothing of the “ayyAr was the trousers. See, for example, Mihran Afsharc’s introduction to his Futuwwat nAma-hA wa rasA”il-i KhAksAriyya, 1381/2003, p. xxix, where he links the sarAwCl of the “ayyAr (which in their ritual was fastened with a belt or girdle called a shadd ) with pre-Islamic religious ritual activity. (See also Zakeri, SAsAnid Soldiers, pp. 308 – 9.) One early example of possible “ayyArC use of trousers is found in AsrAr al-TawWCd when Abe Sa‘cd comes across a group of “naked” (barahna) young men (wurnAyAn) in the bazaar, who were wearing leather trousers. (See the Persian edition of AsrAr al-tawWCd, Shafc‘c Kadkanc (ed.), p. 216.) On this episode, John O’Kane has remarked that “the distinctive dress is perhaps meant to identify the youths as members of a neighbourhood youth group (connected with fotovvat?) who indulge in such reprehensible pastimes as gambling.” The Secrets of God’s Mystical Oneness, p. 622, n. 77. K.F., p. 312; BSC, p. 99. Sulamc, RisAlat al-MalAmatiyya, p. 108. Ibid., p. 101. K.F., p. 266; BSC, p. 58. Another good example is a saying of Abe Qasim al-Muqrc: “Part of futuwwat; Confirmation of the sincere ones on reports about

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107 108 109 110 111

112

113

114 115 116 117 118 119

120

Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism themselves or their shaykhs and refraining from denying them. I [Sulamc] heard Abe Qasim al-Muqrc say, ‘The first blessing of those entering the path of Sufism is [their] confirmation of the sincere ones about themselves and their shaykhs through the gift that God has bestowed upon them and the charismatic powers that He has granted them.’ ” K.F., p. 275; BSC, p. 72. K.F., p. 266; BSC, p. 58. K.F., p. 269; BSC, p. 60. K.F., p. 253; BSC, pp. 49 –50. K.F., p. 246; BSC, pp. 44 –5. For the Karramiyyah see Edmund Bosworth, “Rise of the Karamiyyah in Khurasan,” The Muslim World, 50, 1960, pp. 5–14; Wilferd Madelung, “Sufism and the Karramiya”, in Religious Trends in Early Islamic Iran, Albany: SUNY Press, 1988, pp. 39 –53; Margaret Malamud, “The Politics of Heresy in Medieval Khurasan: The Karramiyya in Nishapur,” Iranian Studies, 27(1–4), 1994, pp. 37–51. Sviri cites al-Subki, writing in the fourteenth century: “[Ibn Karram] used to exhibit a great deal of piety, Godfearing, devotional worship and asceticism . . . special assemblies were conducted for him, and when he was asked about his ideas he would say that they came from divine inspiration.” See her “rakcm Tirmidhc,” p. 601. The Karramiyyah also seem to have worn the woollen cloaks that were associated with the ascetics (Bosworth, “Rise of the Karamiyyah in Khurasan,” p. 11). Bosworth explains that this position served as “a channel between sovereign and subject, and was responsible to the former for the internal security of his city or town.” “Rise of the Karamiyyah in Khurasan,” p. 9. Abe Bakr Muwammad initiated a policy of repressing those who did not conform to Karramiyya norms, and in particular he focused on the Isma‘clcs and the Sufis (perhaps because these two groups did not promote Karramiyya views on literalism, extreme asceticism and the prohibition on engaging in economic activity for profit). There is evidence of the conflict between Abe Bakr Muwammad and the famous Sufi Abe Sa‘cd ibn Abc ‘l-Khayr in AsrAr al-TawWCd, pp. 68–73 (English translation, The Secrets of God’s Mystical Oneness, pp. 146 –52), which, despite its hagiographic nature, most likely contains elements of truth. Ahmet Karamustafa, Sufism: The Formative Period, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2007, p. 66. Ibid. Karamustafa, Sufism, p. 66. See also Sviri, “rakcm Tirmidhc,” p. 584. QAbEs nAma, pp. 240 –2. F. Meier, “Khurasan and the End of Classical Sufism,” in Essays on Islamic Piety and Mysticism, translated by John O’Kane, Leiden: Brill, 1999, p. 217. Sulamc’s attitude towards the Sufis of Baghdad and the Malamatcs of Khurasan is far too complex to investigate in any detail here. Some scholars argue that he attempted to amalgamate the two, but some of his treatises suggest that he harboured a degree of favouritism for the Malamatcs. Honerkamp cites RisAlat al-MalAmatiyya, in which Sulamc reports the words of Abe rafx al-Nayshaberc who said, “The disciples of the Malamatiya lead a life of nobility, there is no danger for their ego-selves, nor is there any means for the faults which might appear from them to intrude upon their stations; because their outward is for all to see, while their true states are veiled. Whereas the disciples of the Sufis exhibit rash claims and miracles, that make anyone who has reached realization laugh, for their claims are many while the realities of their states are few” (Honerkamp, in his “Introduction” to “Stations of the Righteous” in Three Early Sufi Texts, p. 106. K.F., p. 276; BSC, p. 66.

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121 See Ibn Jawzc’s criticisms of the MalAmatC in his Talbis Iblis, translated by D.S. Margoliouth as “The Devil’s Delusion,” Islamic Culture, January 1938, pp. 108, 115. 122 Sulamc, RisAla MalAmatCyya, p. 94. 123 Chabbi, “Remarques sur le dévelopment”, p. 55, n. 2. See also Sviri, “rakcm Tirmidhi,” pp. 603 – 4. 124 Sulamc, RisAlat al-MalAmatiyya, p. 86. 125 K.F., p. 256; BSC, p. 52. 126 T.S., p. 118. 127 Mahjub commented that “the langar was the meeting place of the practitioners of futuwwat.” Unfortunately he did not give any indication of the time period that he had in mind for the creation of such buildings. See his “Chivalry and Early Persian Sufism,” p. 559. 128 Bosworth, “Rise of the Karamiyyah in Khurasan,” p. 7. 129 Cited in Madelung, “Sufism and the Karramiya”, pp. 45–6. 130 Bosworth, “Rise of the Karamiyyah in Khurasan,” p. 7. 131 See the English translation of this Arabic work by A. Knysh: Al-Qushayri’s Epistle on Sufism, Reading: Garnet, 2007. The chapter on futuwwat appears on pages 237– 42. 132 He is mentioned in passing in several pages of Karamustafa, Sufism. A. Schimmel also has a few scattered references to him in Mystical Dimensions of Islam. The entry by Hermann Landolt in the Encyclopedia Iranica (“Abu’lHasan Kharaqanc,” vol. I, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1985) is the most extensive treatment in English. 133 See Hossein Ziai, “The Source and Nature of Authority: A Study of al-Suhrawardc’s Illuminationist Political Doctrine,” in Charles E. Butterworth, The Political Aspects of Islamic Philosophy, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1992, pp. 326 –7. 134 ‘Abdallah Ansarc, TabaqAt al-SEfiyya, Tehran: Tes, 1386/2007–8, p. 521. See also D.B. MacDonald’s definition in “Ghawth,” EI 2, vol. XII, Leiden: Brill, 2004, p. 323, where he says, “literally ‘succour, deliverance,’ an epithet of the Kutb or head of the Sufi hierarchy of Saints.” 135 Niwishta bar DaryA: Az mCrAth-i “irfAnC AbE ”l-Rasan KharaqAnC, Tehran: Intisharat-i sukhan (2nd edn), 1385/2006–7 (henceforth to be referred to as NBD). 136 See Tadhkirat al-Awliya, Muwammad Isti‘lamc (ed.), Tehran: Intisharat-i zawwar (8th edn), 1374/1995 – 6. The chapter on Kharaqanc appears on pp. 661–716. 137 NBD, p. 44. 138 NBD, pp. 57 –8. 139 NBD, p. 383. 140 NBD, p. 64. 141 NBD, p. 327. 142 NBD, p. 220. 143 NBD, p. 195. 144 NBD, p. 222, see also pp. 253, 326. 145 NBD, p. 295. 146 NBD, p. 323. 147 NBD, p. 215. 148 NBD, p. 188. 149 NBD, p. 194, see also p. 250. 150 NBD, p. 197. 151 NBD, p. 204. 152 NBD, p. 222. 153 NBD, p. 217. 154 NBD, p. 194.

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155 156 157 158

NBD, pp. 200 –1. NBD, p. 196. NBD, p. 200. A term that is commonly used to refer to Jerusalem. See S.D. Goitein, “Al-Kuds,” EI 2, vol. V, Leiden: Brill, 1986, p. 323. A Qur’anic term (52.4), meaning the “most frequented house.” In the Islamic tradition it came to be understood as the heavenly prototype for the Ka‘ba, around which the angels would circumambulate. See G.R. Hawting, “Ka‘ba,” in Jane Dammen McCauliffe (ed.), Encyclopedia of the Qur”An, vol. III, Leiden: Brill, 2003. A Qur’anic term (20.5). NBD, p. 199. NBD, p. 343. There is evidence in other Sufi works, pointing to this distinguishing feature. See AsrAr al-tawWCd, Ibn Munawwar, p. 50 (O’Kane’s translation, pp. 123–4). NBD, p. 167. NBD, p. 221. NBD, pp. 212, 252, 283, 347. NBD, p. 274. NBD, p. 188. NBD, p. 194. Tadhkirat al-Awliya, p. 703. Ibid., p. 702. William Chittick, Ibn “Arabi: Heir to the Prophets, Oxford, Oneworld, 2005, p. 1. William Chittick, “Ibn ‘Arabc and His School,” in S.H. Nasr (ed.), Islamic Spirituality: Manifestations, London: SCM Press, 1991, p. 49. James Morris, “Ibn ‘Arabc and his Interpreters,” Journal of the American Oriental Society, 106, 1986, pp. 539–51, 733–56; 107, 1987, pp. 101–19. See Claude Addas, Quest for Red Sulphur, Cambridge: Islamic Texts Society, 1993, p. 17. These are chapters 42, 146 and 147. Ibn ‘Arabc, Al-FutEWAt al-Makkiyya, vol. I, Beirut: Dar al-Kutub, 1999, pp. 364–70. Ibid., p. 369. Ibid. Ibid., p. 367. The reason why even the fatA cannot possess such character traits to perfection is simply because humans cannot possess the attributes in a complete fashion, as these names also describe God, and it is impossible for humans to possess these attributes in the same fashion as God. It is of interest that Abe rafx ‘Umar Suhrawardc (whose ideas on futuwwat will be discussed in the next chapter) had a similar perspective, as he said that no one can follow the reality of futuwwat which is the right of the Truth, and is for God Most High and his designated creation, including Muwammad. See his KitAb al-futuwwat, p. 111. Ibn ‘Arabc, Al-FutEWAt al-Makkiyya, p. 365. Michel Chodkiewicz, “Introduction,” in The Book of Sufi Chivalry, p. 23. This passage is a translation by William Chittick from the FutEWAt: see The Sufi Path of Knowledge, Albany: SUNY Press, 1989, p. 65.

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160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173

174 175 176 177 178 179 180

181 182 183

3

Institutionalisation within the Sufi-futuwwat associations during the twelfth to fourteenth centuries

Introduction In 1182, a couple of years after becoming the ‘Abbasid Caliph, Naxir li-dcn Allah requested that an ascetic and pious leader of one of Baghdad’s futuwwat organisations initiate him in futuwwat. These organisations most likely upheld a mixture of the values epitomised by Sufis such as Sulamc and the more worldly ambitions of the “ayyArAn, some of whom may have considered their “territory” and denominational affiliation among the most important factors determining their identity. From 1203 onwards “al-Naxir personally decided on the admission into the futuwwat of princes and governors.”1 Not only did this establish princely futuwwat as a pillar that supported the Caliph, it also meant that those princes could further centralise and symbolically empower the Caliph as “the adherence of any prince automatically caused the admission into the futuwwat of all his subjects.”2 In 1207 Naxir made illegal all the futuwwat brotherhoods except the one to which he belonged and proclaimed himself “qibla,” or the central authority and support.3 As Breebaart states, this act took futuwwat “from the limelight-zone into broad daylight.”4 The motives behind the Caliph’s actions have been examined by a number of scholars, and the following will outline the main theories. The first theory understands Naxir’s involvement with futuwwat as a response to the foreign situation, namely, the political threat from the Crusaders.5 By becoming the qibla of futuwwat, and by the promotion of this institution and the initiation of the powerful and wealthy in the Islamic world, Naxir was attempting to bind in allegiance to himself all those who could assist in the revivification of the dynasty, and thus fortify the Islamic world against the external enemy. This theory has been criticised, as the existing material of the period makes no reference to the Crusades, and, moreover, Naxir’s main preoccupations seemed to lie elsewhere, as he sent very little assistance to Salaw al-dcn in fighting the Christian forces.6 The second theory argues that Naxir was attempting to bind the disparate forces of the empire under his control. There had been great upheavals in the Islamic world as the Fatimids, champions of Shc‘ism, had just been overthrown, and the Seljuk sultanate was to collapse. Thus the times were to

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provide great opportunities to Naxir, whose actual power on becoming Caliph “extended from Baghdad only to Baxra, Wâsiy and rilla; beyond that his influence depended on popular support for the Caliphate against ‘usurpers’ and on embassies sent out by him to key towns and princes to secure their allegiance.”7 In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries there had been individuals and regional movements that were opposed to the centralising authorities in Baghdad. These included various Seljuk sultans, followed by the Khwarazmshahs, and provincial leaders such as Mankalc (the governor of al-Jabal). The Isma‘clcs were also a threat although the conversion to Sunni Islam by al-Jalal ibn al-sabbah, the Isma‘clc leader in Alamut, may have resulted in Naxir feeling a little more secure. Nevertheless, as a result of the perception of the central authority’s weakness, there existed “an atmosphere of expected catastrophe,”8 and due to Naxir’s own spy-network, Baghdad suffered in “an atmosphere of terror.”9 Futuwwat then was a means to draw together sentiments of “aXabiyya in which all members could sleep a little more easily. After Naxir became the futuwwat qibla, those who were recipients of the initiatory libAs al-futuwwat included Salaw al-dcn’s brother and his sons in Damascus, ‘Izz al-dcn Iswaq, the Seljuk Sultan of Rum, to be followed by the new Seljuk Sultan in 1221, ‘Ala’ al-dcn Kay-Kubad I, Shihab al-dcn al-Ghurc (the ruler of Ghazna), Atabeg Sa‘d (the sawib of Shiraz), al-Malik al-Zahir (sawib of Aleppo) and Ner al-dcn Arslanshah I (emir of Mosul).10 Naxir’s policy of forging alliances extended even across sectarian divides, and so his policy of appointing a series of Persian Shc‘ite viziers and his amicable relations with the Isma‘clcs reflect his desire to be considered as the qibla of the Islamic world (which may not have been such a ludicrous idea, especially after the fall of the Fatimids). This favourable policy towards the Shc‘ites is significant in the light of the futuwwat literature of the time in which the role of ‘Ali ibn abc talib assumes a prominent position. The third theory focuses upon the internal disputes among the futuwwat organisations. Salinger has drawn attention to the internal strife that was either caused by or involved the various futuwwat organisations in Baghdad during the 150 years prior to Naxir’s reign. He comments, it seems safe to suggest that Naxir’s policy was primarily an attempt to gain control of the futEwa associations. Particularly in the limits of Baghdad and Iraq, where the caliph was the actual ruler, his leadership in the futEwa might strengthen the position of the public authorities in dealing with these groups.11 Salinger shows that prior to Naxir’s reign there had been many social disturbances involving the futuwwat associations; however, for the first twentyfive years of his rule it seems that the futuwwat had not caused or been involved in any insurrection or unrest. However, in 1207 there was a “great fight . . . with swords” among the fatA of different associations.12 Following this disturbance Naxir issued his famous decree in which he made himself qibla

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of the futuwwat, and outlawed all futuwwat associations aside from his own. The decree also regulated and structured relations between members. The reasons behind Naxir’s involvement in futuwwat have been neatly summarised by Mason who remarked, It was partly egoism that may have motivated him, partly power, partly the realization of the practical need for political cohesion and social unity among factions and dissident groups and movements that had historically been the source of so much of the Islamic world’s inner troubles.13 However, whether Naxir’s sympathy for Sufism had anything to do with the reforms of futuwwat is unclear,14 although in his promotion of futuwwat he employed the most respected Sufi of the age on several occasions. Thus in 1207 Abe rafx ‘Umar Suhrawardc was sent to Egypt and Syria to elaborate on futuwwat and its role in the state,15 and in 1214 he gave the libAs al-futuwwat to the Sultan of Rum, and again in 1221 he offered these garments to the new Sultan of Rum.16

Suhraward3 and the institutionalisation of Sufi-futuwwat In his biographical entry for Suhrawardc, the Sufi biographer and celebratred poet and interpreter of Ibn ‘Arabc’s thought, ‘Abd al-Rawman Jamc (1414–92), cited the description of Abe rafx offered by Ibn Yafi‘c (d. 1367): He was the teacher of his time, unique in his age, the source of lights and the origin of secrets, the proof of the way, the interpreter of the truth, the master of the great shaykhs, the collector of the inner and outer wisdom, the leader of the Gnostics and the most distinguished of the wayfarers, the wise man of divine reality.17 Suhrawardc’s Sufi credentials were impeccable, for he had been initiated into Sufism by his uncle, Abe Najcb Suhrawardc (1097–1168),18 and he had enjoyed the association of Shaykh ‘Abd al-Qadir Gilanc.19 Subsequently, he became a leading Sufi authority in his day, heading sessions in his uncle’s ribAY and composing influential Sufi manuals such as “AwArif al-Ma“Arif.20 Yet Suhrawardc was more than a leading Sufi, as he was a popular preacher and orator, and a leading traditionalist Shafc‘c who was prepared to criticise the mutakallimEn. His distaste for scholastic theology and philosophy may also explain why he was also a virulent opponent of Ibn ‘Arabc’s worldview, which in his opinion contained elements of Greek philosophy.21 Suhrawardc’s elevation within the royal court coincided with the death in 1201 of Ibn Jawzc, the influential ranbalc and Shaykh al-Islam22 who had a chequered relationship with the Caliph al-Naxir.23 Ibn Jawzc had been critical of futuwwat (despite the Caliph’s initiation into the association), and he was also suspicious of the Caliph’s supposed Shc‘ite leanings. The Caliph

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was not intimidated by Ibn Jawzc, however, and in 1194 he had him put under house arrest, and he was not freed for five years. He died two years later.24 A year after Ibn Jawzc’s death, the Caliph demonstrated his good will towards Suhrawardc with the foundation of the ribAY in al-Marzebaniyya,25 and in 1202–3 Naxir appointed him shaykh al-shuyEk (dean of Sufi masters) of Baghdad.26 The influence that Suhrawardc enjoyed reached the extent that he has been described as Naxir’s “personal advisor.”27 However, Suhrawardc’s hold over the Caliph should not be over-estimated as Naxir stripped him of his direction of the ribAYs and banned him from preaching following his receipt of expensive gifts and clothing, and his “ostentatious pomp and his breach of the rules of a Sufi way of life.”28 Although the two were reconciled after Suhrawardc renounced his wealth and fame, this episode (like that surrounding the arrest of Ibn Jawzc) indicates that Naxir was certainly not a man to be manipulated. In the history of futuwwat, Suhrawardc is a towering figure, largely because he was the first to write treatises in Persian on the topic, and also because he placed futuwwat on an institutional basis. His two futuwwat nAmas occupy thirteen pages and 162 pages in the edited versions.29 These have been analysed by a number of scholars over the past one hundred years, so in this section the findings of this research will be summarised, and a number of illustrations from Suhrawardc’s futuwwat nAmas will be presented to demonstrate their salient features. One of the most recent studies is that of Erik Ohlander, who viewed Suhrawardc’s futuwwat nAmas as a programme that supported his ribAY style of Sufism.30 Ohlander argues that Sufism during the period in which Suhrawardc was active was undergoing structural change, which was partly the outcome of the transformation of the Sufi master from a “teaching shaykh” or “master of instruction” (shaykh al-ta“lCm) to the “directing shaykh” or “master of training” (shaykh al-tarbiya).31 This new development witnessed the change of the shaykh from a simple teacher or instructor to an individual who became more intimately involved in the whole development of his students.32 This necessitated new structures for successful relationships, and the result was the proliferation of khAnaqAhs and ribAYs, and the systematisation of Sufi teaching through specific rules and AdAb. Ohlander argues that Suhrawardc attempted to propagate his own version of an institutionalised Sufism, which was “infused with the spirit of jamA“C-sunnC communalism . . . was neither esoteric nor exclusionary . . . [and which made] room for varying levels of participation and affiliation by inviting those who had neither the desire, capacity, or wherewithal to become full-time disciples the opportunity to participate in its life.”33 His writings on Sufism and his direction of the ribAYs set in motion a process that subsequently witnessed the institutionalisation of the Suhrawardc Sufi order. It is against this background that Ohlander reads Suhrawardc’s two futuwwat nAmas. Rather than simply endorsing Naxir’s futuwwat reforms, Suhrawardc used his position as the Caliph’s emissary to promote his own form of futuwwat. Ohlander believes

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that the two futuwwat nAmas were directed at the akhCs in Anatolia,34 but his most interesting observation is that Hartmann’s claim that Suhrawardc was promoting a “grand Chalifatstheorie revolving around some effective union between the caliphate, Sufism, and the futuwwat”35 needs to be re-examined. Hartmann indicated that Suhrawardc wrote: The supreme caliphate is a booklet (daftar) of which the taXawwuf is a part; taXawwuf in its turn is also a booklet of which the futuwwat is a part. The futuwwat is specified by pure morals (al-akhlAk al-zakiyya); taXawwuf also includes the pious actions and religious exercises (awrAd ); the supreme caliphate comprises the mystical states, the pious actions and the pure morals.36 This is a passage from Suhrawardc’s IdAlat al-“iyAn “alA ”l-burhAn, which Ohlander points out was composed after the death of Naxir.37 However, this does not negate the possibility that Suhrawardc viewed futuwwat as a means to co-ordinate Sufism and the caliphate, whether with the assistance of Naxir or his successor al-Mustanxir bi-Llah. Ohlander’s theory builds on the views of Cahen who considered that Naxir’s reform of futuwwat was greatly influenced by Suhrawardc who was concerned with the spread of his own form of Sufism.38 Cahen argued that Suhrawardc’s aims in promoting his popular Sufism through the parallel form of futuwwat did not obstruct Naxir’s own plans for extending the power and influence of the caliphate. He remarked, “Ce qui montre bien le lien entre ces diverses preoccupations, c’est al-Suhrawardc qui est en maints endroits le propagateur simultané de toutes ces réformes, et le prestige, l’action efficace qui en résulte, en particulier auprès des Turcs neuf d’Asie Mineure, est remarqubale et incontestable.”39 It is not easy to identify Suhrawardc’s views on the role of the Caliph in futuwwat; however, there is a small passage in his KitAb fC”l-futuwwat which is quite telling. In the second chapter of this work there is a discussion about the duties of the futuwwat master, in which there appears to be an attempt to distance the Caliph from futuwwat: [The master of futuwwat] always has an open-table, based on the custom of the [Sufi] khAnaqAh, and the house of futuwwat ( futuwwat-khAna) is like the khAnaqAh although the master of futuwwat establishes [the futuwwatkhAna] through his own work, but someone else establishes the khAnaqAh, the kings and princes build most of them, and it is under consideration whether their gold is legal (WalAl) or not permitted (WarAm). Futuwwat abandons [whatever] is not-permitted. So the master of futuwwat is the builder of a khAnaqAh, and the sheikhs and others are parasites.40 Suhrawardc’s independence from Naxir may account for the absence of a chain of initiation in his futuwwat nAmas, linking the Caliph to the early masters of futuwwat. Such a linkage was provided in other futuwwat nAmas, including

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two Arabic treatises; the first, entitled KitAb al-futuwwat, was written by Abe ‘Abdallah Muwammad ibn Abc al-Makarim (also called Ibn Mi‘mar) (d. 1248), while the second, TuWfat al-WaXAyA, was written by Awmad ibn Ilyas al-Naqqash al-Khartabirtc.41 Ibn Mi‘mar’s chain of initiation goes back to Salman al-Farsc,42 while al-Khartabirtc takes the chain to ‘Alc ibn abc talib.43 That such a lineage is absent from Suhrawardc’s futuwwat nAmas suggests that he did not feel compelled or obliged to follow the “party line” and thereby endorse Naxir’s position of qibla within the futuwwat. Of course this does not mean that he was rejecting this lineage, but perhaps if his aim was promoting his own form of Sufism through futuwwat, formal recognition of Naxir as Caliph was not such a crucial element. The mention of ‘Alc, however, introduces one of the most important discussions in Suhrawardc’s futuwwat nAmas. The link back to ‘Alc is highly significant, especially because of the role that Suhrawardc attributed to him within futuwwat. With respect to references and anecdotal stories about ‘Alc, Sulamc’s KitAb al-futuwwat and Suhrawardc’s two treatises could not be more different. Whereas Sulamc included ‘Alc in a couple of fleeting references, Suhrawardc’s two works are replete with laudatory descriptions and vignettes to the extent that one might be forgiven for assuming that the texts were written by someone sympathetic to the Shc‘ite tradition. As already mentioned, Suhrawardc was a Shafc‘c, although this would not have precluded him from composing works in praise of ‘Alc. Indeed, it has been argued that ‘Alc had long enjoyed an eminent status as “the founding father” among Sunni Sufis (including Junayd, Hujwcrc and ‘Ayyar) prior to Suhrawardc.44 However, the reason for ‘Alc’s inclusion by the ahl al-futuwwat as their “patron saint” may have something to do with the understanding of ‘Alc as a brave, military hero of the Islamic community. Given the militaristic background of the “ayyArAn this possibility assumes a larger degree of plausibility. As Poonawala has observed, ‘Alc’s courage during the military expeditions became legendary. Along with ramza, Abe Dujana, and Zobayr, he was renowned for his charges against the enemy; at Badr he is said to have killed more than one third of the enemy army single-handedly. He stood firm and stoutly defended the Prophet at Owod and runayn, while the Muslim victory at Khaybar, where he used a heavy iron door as a shield, is attributed to his valor.45 It was most likely a combination of both piety and bravery that appealed to the ahl al-futuwwat, but whatever the reason for ‘Alc’s pre-eminent position therein, it facilitated the ease with which futuwwat could be adopted by both Sunnis and Shc‘-ites, a point which became increasingly significant in post-Mongol Iran, when the region was showing greater tendencies towards Shc‘-ism and ultimately witnessed the establishment of a Shc‘-ite state under the Safavids. Suhrawardc’s two futuwwat nAmas position ‘Alc at the pinnacle

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of futuwwat. In the shorter work of the two, the RisAlat al-futuwwat, Suhrawardc traced the origins of futuwwat through a series of prophets, which led to Muwammad and then to ‘Alc who was a Friend of God. Suhrawardc legitimised ‘Alc’s position in futuwwat in the following fashion: Futuwwat was ‘Alc’s inheritance because he was among the great Friends of God, and the sun of futuwwat rises either from the constellation of prophecy or the constellation of friendship of God. Although ‘Alc was not a prophet, he was a Friend of God. Since the time of prophecy until the blowing of the trumpet [for Judgement Day], there has been and there is no-one comparable to ‘Alc in futuwwat.46 Suhrawardc then remarked that futuwwat was the inheritance of ‘Alc’s house (i.e. his sons rasan and rusayn), and Futuwwat stayed in that house as a legacy because the YarCqat and futuwwat stayed with ‘Alc from the house of prophecy because the Master (peace be upon him) was the city of the YarCqat, sharC “at, futuwwat, miracles, generosity, and muruwwat. And the Commander of the Faithful, ‘Alc, was the gate to the city of knowledge. Because of this the master (peace be upon him) described the reality of ‘Alc: “I am the city of knowledge and “AlC is the gate.” Whoever steps into the the city of knowledge and action has passed the Commander of the Faithful, ‘Alc (may God be satisfied with him). First he discovers the station of ‘Alc’s service, then he steps into the city.47 Moreover, according to Suhrawardc ‘Alc was a great champion of futuwwat, for even though it existed prior to Islam, it was not commonly spread among the general masses, and this was only rectified by the Commander of the Faithful. Suhrawardc remarked that, “The four roads of sharC “at, YarCqat, WaqCqat and ma“rifat are all true, and the religion of Islam makes them flourish and beautiful . . . futuwwat is the essence of these four roads.”48 To these four roads (which exist in all communities), Islam added the Night of Destiny (shab al-qadr),49 the month of RamaVan, the ablution for ritual impurity and the shab-i barAt.50 “When the Commander of the Faithful was born he displayed the splendour of these four roads.” Suhrawardc then developed a new analogy, by referring to “four water channels” (chahAr jEC ), and he commented that ‘Alc dug one large water channel, so that [the water of the four channels] must flow for the sake of whoever cannot endure [the weight of any one of those four channels] and [for the sake of] those whom we call the People of Form and cannot gain from these water channels, one by one . . . those are the general people, and when they come to the great water channel and drink of its water, they receive the blessings of the four water channels.51

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That ‘Alc was aiding all people was spelt out further by Suhrawardc: Futuwwat is the essence of these four roads, and in truth, not everyone can follow [the road of futuwwat]. However, the Arab, the Persian, the Turk and the Tajik, and the common people, the soldiers, the tradesmen, in fact everyone can follow the form of this road.52 ‘Alc mirrors the path of the prophets: Muwammad’s message was for all, and ‘Alc opened futuwwat as a universal path. The open invitation to futuwwat that Suhrawardc extended through ‘Alc should be read as an invitation to all to embrace his form of Sufism. It is significant that the call to futuwwat for those who cannot bear the loads of the more specialised forms of religion was also presented by Suhrawardc in his RisAlat al-futuwwat, but in this text it was through the prophet Ibrahcm.53 Thus ‘Alc’s position within futuwwat was bolstered not just by the WadCth of Muwammad, but also by his acts which were the very same as those of the prophets. In his longer treatment of futuwwat, the KitAb fC”l-futuwwat, Suhrawardc’s portrayal of ‘Alc is carried out in the context of futuwwat ethics, in which the focus is primarily an encouragement to be lenient and compassionate with fellow human beings. As Suhrawardc remarked: Many things are permissible under the sharC “a but are not so according to muruwwat and futuwwat, yet futuwwat and muruwwat do not contradict the sharC “a. But the attribute of the ahl-i futuwwat is that if someone commits evil against them, they perform a good deed in exchange. [But on the basis of ] the sharC “a they would perpetrate an evil act in recompense for an evil act.54 Suhrawardc illustrated this in the first chapter with seven anecdotes involving ‘Alc. No other companion of the prophet or Sufi is treated in the same fashion; indeed, in the whole of the work, there is only one lengthy story involving a companion of Muwammad (‘Umar and his son, ‘Abd al-Rawman)55 apart from those stories featuring ‘Alc. These seven stories are very similar, so it is not necessary to summarise them all; one will suffice here. It was reported that someone came to the prophet, complaining that his wife was in a house with an unknown person, and so he locked them in that house before coming to the prophet. Muwammad sent ‘Alc to the house rather than any other companion because ‘Alc was greater than all the others in knowledge and more famous in futuwwat, for the prophet had stated, “there is no fata but “AlC and no sword but dhu al-faqar,” because part of futuwwat is veiling (sattArC ). So he sent ‘Alc to go and see and return and testify according to his knowledge, because ‘Alc ’s testimony would be correct and that of anyone else would be wrong. [The prophet’s] intention was to conceal the adultery

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in order to veil faults and forgive sins. So ‘Alc, the Commander of the Faithful, may God honour him, went to the house, opened the door and went inside. He closed his eyes and wandered around the house. Still with eyes shut, he came out of the house and returned to the prophet. He said, “I swear to God I didn’t see a single person in that house.” He spoke the truth for he had shut his eyes, and of course he saw no one. It is for this reason that the prophet said, “I am the city of knowledge and “AlC is the gate.”56 The open and universal nature of futuwwat mentioned above with reference to ‘Alc is also reflected in Suhrawardc’s brief mention of the two kinds of initiate into the association. In his concluding two paragraphs of his RisAlat al-futuwwat, Suhrawardc discussed the pledge by the sword (sayfC ) and the verbal pledge (qawlC ), and he compared these two pledges to the Sufi custom of receiving two kinds of robes. The first Sufi cloak (which he compared with the pledge by the sword) was bestowed upon the Sufi initiate by his true spiritual master (muWaqqiq), whereas the robe of blessing (which he compared with the verbal pledge) was bestowed by another master.57 Ohlander draws the conclusion that these two kinds of futuwwat member run parallel to the two types of Sufi.58 He equates the qawlC-fatA with the Sufi mutashabbih in the ribAY; he is “a ‘pretender’ affiliated through the khirqa-yi tabarruk who is not held to the disciplines of the YarCqat.”59 The sayfC-fatA is equated with the murCd in the ribAY, who is “an aspirant affiliated through the khirqa biWaqq who is held to the discipline of the YarCqat through the master-disciple relationship.”60 The nomenclature for these two kinds of initiates is interesting because it is reminiscent of sayings among Malamatcs that “Futuwwat is practiced by actions not by speech.”61 The sayfC initiation is for the fatA who is a man of action, whereas the lesser qawlC initiation is for those who merely speak. Mention has already been made of the two kinds of initiation into futuwwat, but Suhrawardc offers very little in terms of the actual functions of the futuwwat as a social organisation. At one point he says, If the master of futuwwat has a profession, he should offer up whatever is [his] lawful gain. Once each week, for example at the end of the week, on Friday or another day, although Friday is best. Earning a profit is forbidden on Friday, so before communal prayers, he stops his work. He says Friday is for stopping work and worldly tasks, and he makes that day a feast day. He offers up whatever he has earned in the week, making no claim of it [for himself]. This is the way of futuwwat.62 Interestingly, the fourteenth-century traveller Ibn Bayyeya refers to groups that seem to be futuwwat associations that were organised along trade lines. He noted that in Isfahan there was a strong rivalry among them in procuring luxurious viands for guests. He remarked,

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Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism The members of each craft appoint one of their own number as headsman over them, whom they call kilE, and so do the leading citizens from outside the ranks of the craftsmen. One company [for example] will be composed of young bachelors. These companies try to outdo one another and invite one another to banquets, displaying all the resources at their disposal and making a great show in regard to the dishes and everything else.63

Ibn Bayyeya’s discussion about hospitality and the scrupulous attention that is paid to banquets by the young men is significant because several futuwwat nAmas, including the KitAb fC”l-futuwwat of Suhrawardc, include chapters on the rules and courtesies of communal eating. Chapters four and five of Suhrawardc KitAb fC”l-futuwwat are entitled “the rules and courtesies of the way of eating food,”64 and “the way of eating food and its courtesies.”65 Suhrawardc was exceedingly careful in providing minute details that were designed to create the ideal fatA in society. For example, he discussed in great detail the rules pertaining to communal eating of food and drinking, which included how and where to sit, and how and when to speak.66 In effect, Suhrawardc provided comprehensive guidance which conditioned the fatA for harmonious relations when the fatAs were together. He also mentioned in passing the regulations for dress, for the fatA had to wear suitable clothing, which meant that he was not permitted to wear patterned apparel or colourful clothing (for these are for women)67 or garments that were threadbare.68 It seems likely that for Suhrawardc the most important structure within the futuwwat associations was the relationship between the master and the novice, as he devotes several passages to outlining the rights of each vis-à-vis the other; and it is here that the blurring between futuwwat and Sufism comes sharply into focus, as the relationship between the futuwwat master and his trainee mirrors that of the Sufi shaykh and his follower. Suhrawardc noted that there were seven duties for the master with the trainee, and these reveal the almost claustrophobic atmosphere in which the trainee learned the art of futuwwat. In effect, the trainee lived and breathed futuwwat, from his first waking moment until his last seconds before sleep. In this hierarchical association it is useful to invoke the concept of the panopticon, designed by the eighteenth-century English architect, Jeremy Bentham, and which was later used as a metaphor by Foucault69 as a means by which modern societies observe and normalise. The panopticon was a prison which worked by being designed in such a way that the prisoner knew he was being watched all of the time, and therefore he would behave in such a way that his behaviour assumed the expected or desired norms. Indeed, the aim, to use a Sufi expression, was to make the trainee like a dead man in the hands of the washer.70 The life of the trainee operated within such panoptical conditions. Even before being accepted as a trainee, the aspirant would experience such supervision, as there was a period in which he was guided by other

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members in the association before the process of direct guidance commenced. Suhrawardc said: [The master] entrusts [the aspiring trainee] to the other trainees, and he says to them, “Act in accordance with his aim [to join the futuwwat], and keep him within the bounds of the sharC “a. Stop him if he wants to perform an unnecessary act, and show him the rules, courtesies and service. Watch him at all times, and care for him with kindness and generosity. Give him commands for his well-being, and forbid him from disobedience.”71 The trainees rely on one another, so that if [one of the trainees] performs an incorrect act, unseen by his master, then whoever sees and knows of this act, tells and explains to him quickly in order that he does not become lost or waste himself in that act . . . He offers this advice, making it brief, and [the trainee at fault] stands erect in a repentant fashion and endures the rebuke for [his] discourteous act. And it is well and good if the trainee repents, begs pardon for his sin, apologises and regrets his deed, and does not repeat the act again. If he commits an unnecessary act a second time, the [other trainee] speaks firmly with him. He says, “Don’t associate with us any more! Don’t come and sit among our helpers, trainees, friends and children. Don’t mix with this group.” If he begs forgiveness again and apologises [the admonishing trainee] gives [the sinner] twenty-five lashes and hangs a bucket around his neck. He stands in repentance and takes his punishment, waiting there for four hours with a bucket of water around his neck.72 This form of training and discipline continued once the aspiring trainee had been accepted by the master and became a proper trainee. From this point, Suhrawardc remarked that the master had seven duties with the trainee. The first duty was to pay constant attention to the trainee. The master appears as a figure of authority who inspired fear more than anything else: “Any master who carries out this training and lives according to these requirements [will keep] the trainee in a continual state of fear (harAs) and [the trainee] will desist [from bad acts] and will not be rude.”73 Suhrawardc’s following statement suggests how the discipline was reinforced: Even when the master is [physically] absent [the trainee] will be in a state of fear. If Satan steals along his path, he recalls [both] the action that he performed in the presence of the master and the brothers, and [the subsequent] session of questions and answers by the brothers, and in this way he desists from that act, and he trembles [in fear of it].74 The discipline of the futuwwat associations humiliated and stigmatised those who did not follow the training. If the trainee did not accept the master’s punishment for any transgression, and if he did not apologise, the master

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painted the trainee’s hands, put make-up on his face, covered his hair with a colourful scarf and sent him away. He was then considered a woman.75 This punishment is repeated by Suhrawardc in the following anecdote which follows a story concerning fornication, which explains the reference to a hundred lashes (which was the penalty for fornication): If someone breaks his promise [not to sin] a third time, then it is necessary to lash him a hundred times according to the command of the sharC“a. Some of the futuwwat members have said, “Give him the lashes since he will be cast out of service [in futuwwat]. Moreover, paint and decorate his hands with henna, just like a woman, put collyrium on his eye-brows and eye-lashes, and wrap colourful and fine linen around his head.” And they give a command [to him and others] that says, “You did not have the strength for the way of the futuwwat of the jawAnmardAn. Thrice you broke your promise, and so you have fallen to the level of a wicked woman. Your punishment is to have painted hands and colourful clothing. Keep away from him and don’t let him approach you because he is an enemy. The shame of his sin can infect a thousand people.”76 The second duty of the master was to train his own trainee, and in this he utilised the teachings of past masters of futuwwat, which reinforced the totalising ethic of futuwwat: He recalls the circumstances of those who have passed away (WAl-i gudhashtigAn), for example [he tells the trainee] such and such a master of futuwwat and such and such a brother (akhC ) said and did this, and such and such trainees did and said this, so that when his own trainees hear [these stories] they memorise them and derive benefit from them, indeed, they gain benefit from each discourse [of the master], and they will become masters [in turn] in all kinds of learning. Day by day, their actions, courtesies, learning and practice increase, and they are eager [to improve further]. They come to the master, and they are continually reflecting on the teachings, courtesies, and secrets.77 Suhrawardc emphasised that the training extended even to learning foreign languages, including Arabic, Farsi, Turkish, ‘Ajamc, Greek (YunAnC ) and Hindc, since learning languages can provide great benefits.78 The third duty was that the master was to be generous, and that he kept an open table at the futuwwat-lodge, which he established through his own toil. He was generous to the extent that he treated the trainees like his own children, so that whenever he was given a gift, he offered it to his “children.”79 The fourth duty was that the master tested his trainees, and the nature of this testing was elaborated upon in the fifth duty, which was to examine the trainees according to their ability. He tested them in matters of loyalty,

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keeping promises, generosity and modesty.80 The master recognised that each trainee had a skill which could be utilised in the path of futuwwat, and he sent his trainees on special missions in order that they did not remain ignorant. The sixth duty repeated the master’s requirement to teach the trainee in various fields of knowledge.81 The seventh and last duty was that the master never forgot his trainee, and he mentioned him in his prayers. Aside from instructing masters, Suhrawardc’s futuwwat nAmas provided instructions for the trainees. In his KitAb fC”l-futuwwat, there is a list of eight healthy organs which must be nurtured once “the trainee has become adorned with all the [necessary] skills, and loyalty and purity (wafA” wa XafA”), and annihilation and subsistence ( fanA” wa baqA”) have become one.”82 (One might be forgiven for thinking that what is being described here is Sufi perfection, rather than institutionalised futuwwat.) The eight organs are the soul, heart, tongue, eyes, ears, hands, legs, and memory. In effect, these are perfected when they do not permit any slippage into activities that would be considered un-Islamic, and such a perspective is also adopted in Suhrawardc’s RisAlat al-futuwwat where he described twelve pillars of futuwwat, six of which pertained to the outer station and six to the inner station. His choice of words to describe these reflects the attempt to create a futuwwat identity. He used the word band (that is, a tie, knot, fastener or buckle) which is suggestive of initiation into futuwwat by tying the trousers (sarAwCl). The six pillars in the manifest station are the band for the trousers, the stomach, tongue, hearing and seeing, hand and foot, greed and expectation. The six non-manifest pillars are munificence, generosity, humility, forgiveness, non-existence of the self, and lastly sobriety in the station of connection to God, proximity to God and tranquillity.83 These pillars reflect Suhrawardc’s preference for the “sober” interpretation of Sufism, which was usually understood as that epitomised by the teachings of Junayd. The two futuwwat nAmas of Suhrawardc are very similar to each other, as both contain lists of the ideal ethics in futuwwat, both trace the origins of futuwwat to pre-Islamic prophets, and both present a universal form of futuwwat (through ‘Alc or Ibrahcm). Although the reality was the same, the form was different, which suggests that the two works may have been written for two communities. The Sufi slant of Suhrawardc’s two works is blatantly clear, there is certainly no attempt to hide this; rather, the similarities are explicitly drawn out. Ohlander has observed that these two works were an attempt to promote Suhrawardc’s ribAY-style Sufism in which Sufism was not an élitist form of spiritual worship or expression, but mainstream Islam. Very little concrete knowledge about institutionalised futuwwat can be gleaned from Suhrawardc’s writings, that is to say, about the form of futuwwat that was espoused by Naxir’s supporters (note the absence in Suhrawardc’s works of both a silsila and the nomenclature of the various groupings within the associations which was provided in the Arabic futuwwat works of Ibn Mi‘mar and al-Khartabirtc). References to what became the hallmarks of later futuwwat (such as the two kinds of girding) are frustratingly brief.

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Suhrawardc’s works provide a useful contrast, however, with the writings of Sulamc. They were grounded to a much greater extent in teaching through a master–trainee relationship, based within the context of an association, be it a nascent Sufi order or a futuwwat association. The systematic detail that Suhrawardc provided in the training of novices and the duties that a master had in teaching is absent in Sulamc’s KitAb al-futuwwat, suggesting that in Suhrawardc’s time the Sufi or futuwwat associations were much larger and formalised, and necessitated order and rules. There is also a marked contrast between Suhrawardc’s writings on futuwwat and those of Kharaqanc and Ibn ‘Arabc who were not concerned at all with institutionalised futuwwat, and whose writings perhaps reflect their own idiosyncratic forms of Sufism. Suhrawardc’s two works on futuwwat most likely did have a very lasting effect upon the development of futuwwat in the Persian-speaking world, despite Ohlander’s observation that only one manuscript copy of his KitAb alfutuwwat and three copies of his RisAla are extent.84 Despite the relative absence of manuscripts in the present age, this does not mean that such materials were not available to futuwwat associations prior to the modern era. Indeed, there is evidence that Suhrawardc’s futuwwat works were valued. For example, some of the composers of futuwwat nAmas made explicit reference to Suhrawardc, including Nam al-Dcn Zarkeb (d. 1313) whose treatise on futuwwat included two mentions of Suhrawardc;85 and Kashifc, one of the greatest writers on futuwwat in the sixteenth century, says that he had referred to these texts.86 Moreover, the story that Suhrawardc told about ‘Alc deliberately shutting his eyes to the “indiscretion” of a man and woman alone in a house was repeated in the fourteenth-century futuwwat nAma of ‘Abd al-Razzaq Kashanc, which might reflect his knowledge and borrowing from Suhrawardc’s work.87 One last point about Suhrawardc’s works on futuwwat is that there appears to be a contradiction in his general aim of promoting his form of Sufism, and the difficulty of following the futuwwat path. Certainly the duties and responsibilities to be followed by both master and trainee, if followed to the letter, would have necessitated a strong commitment to the path, and were certainly not for the half-hearted follower. Of course, Suhrawardc’s writings served as idealised versions of what futuwwat should be, and in reality these standards must have been difficult to achieve.

The institutionalisation of Sufi-futuwwat post-Suhraward3 The importance of «Al# ibn ab# (!lib Mention has already been made of the position of ‘Alc ibn abc talib in the writings of Sulamc who made passing references to ‘Alc, and in the futuwwat nAmas of Suhrawardc where ‘Alc’s position as the “patron-saint” of futuwwat is recognised and illustrated in copious detail. It would seem that this was not an innovation by Suhrawardc as the Arabic works on futuwwat at the

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time of Naxir also accord ‘Alc an eminent rank in the futuwwat tradition, and it may be the case that these writers too were following an established tradition. However, the Persian futuwwat nAmas post-Suhrawardc embellished this tradition, and this is apparent in both writers who were Sunni and those who were Shc‘-ite. The Mongol invasions of the Persian-speaking world permitted the Shc‘-ites to raise their heads without the fear of Sunni persecution, and this relative freedom may also be one of the factors that contributed to the flourishing of the futuwwat associations. In any case, the futuwwat nAmas that were written by authors from the time of Suhrawardc until the Safavid era contain overtly laudatory passages relating to ‘Alc. These sections on ‘Alc portray him as courageous and brave,88 generous and selfless,89 and an exemplar in the futuwwat initiation ceremonies (to be discussed below). ‘Alc is depicted as the inheritor of futuwwat from Muwammad, who passed on the tradition to the post-prophetic generations. The elevated station of ‘Alc within Sufi-futuwwat is prevalent in all futuwwat nAmas of the medieval period. In the work of ‘Abd al-Razzaq Kashanc, for example, the Sufi connection is made explicitly clear, as he said, “Futuwwat is the origin and basis of walAyat,”90 and he had the lineage of futuwwat mirror that of prophecy. So just as prophecy commenced with Adam, had its pole (quYb) with Ibrahcm and was sealed with Muwammad, so too futuwwat commenced with Ibrahcm (since he was the first prophet to be called a fatA in the Qur’an), had a pole with ‘Alc 91 and terminated with the Mahdc.92 Such a lineage, in effect, privileged ‘Alc, because it is with the pole (rather than with the initiator) that futuwwat became erect (mustaqCm), its foundations became firm, its branches became strong, and its ranks were raised high.93 It is unsurprising therefore that the majority of citations that elaborate on the finer points of futuwwat are spoken by ‘Alc in Kashanc’s text. In a similar fashion, the fourteenth-century Shams al-Dcn Muwammad fmulc presents a futuwwat silsila that commences with Ibrahcm, continues with Yesuf, then Muwammad, and finally comes ‘Alc who is the “Pole of the FatiyAn.”94 ‘Alc is described with levels of asceticism, scrupulousness, bravery and generosity, and the same mirroring of prophecy with futuwwat that Kashanc described is included in fmulc’s work. That is, just as prophecy begins with Adam, has its pole in Ibrahcm, and its seal in Muwammad, the triumvirate in futuwwat is Ibrahcm, ‘Alc and the Mahdc.95 In another treatise on futuwwat, Sayyid ‘Alc Hamadanc portrayed ‘Alc as the “Imam of the Friends of God, the Master of the God-fearing men [and] the source of the spring of futuwwat, the mine of generosity and muruwwat.”96 The centrality of ‘Alc to the Sufi-futuwwat associations is evident in the initiation ceremonies that were described by Najm al-Dcn Zarkeb. These initiation ceremonies are also important for the formation of the communal identities in the futuwwat associations. The ceremonies contained explicit Islamic and Sufi references (which fostered a sense of universal belonging within the Islamic community), but there was also a sense (through certain ritual performances) of a more localised and particular attachment.

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Zarkeb depicted three kinds of initiate – the qawlC, the sayfC and the shurbC (that is, initiation through a verbal pledge, through the sword, and through imbibing from a salt-water drink). The qawlC is the first to be discussed, and it is related to those who first accepted Muwammad’s prophethood, including ‘Alc, who was the first of the young men ( jawAnAn) to do this – and of course the futuwwat organisations were meant for the young men ( fityAn/jawAnAn) of society.97 This is contrasted with the first elderly person (Abe Bakr), the first woman (Khadcja) and the first slave (Bilal) to accept Muwammad. These four are those who remained loyal to their word in accepting Muwammad’s claim to prophethood. The second kind of initiate, the sayfC, also enjoyed symbolic attachment to ‘Alc because “they have chosen to become ‘Alc’s companions.” They are warriors (ahl-i ghazw) who fight with the infidels (kAfir) at an outer level, but at the interior level they wage war on their nafs.98 At this point, unsurprisingly, Zarkeb cites the prophetic WadCth, “We have returned from the lesser jihad to the greater jihad.” The initiation by the sword commemorates Muwummad giving his sword, dhu al-faqAr, to ‘Alc. The symbolic attachment to ‘Alc in the story behind the shurbC initiation is not as pronounced as for the other two, because the story for the shurbC recounts the conflict between Muwammad and Abu Jahl; the latter would drink wine, whereas the prophet refused this habit and took salt-water.99 However, ‘Alc emerges even in this symbolic account, for his custom of giving salt-water is contrasted with Muwammad giving milk to his companions when he took allegiance from them under the tree.100 ‘Alc makes initiation easier by saying that there is no innovation in using salt-water, for whenever milk is unavailable it is permissible to use salt-water. Zarkeb does not seem to express any preference for the shurbC, sayfC or qawlC. Yet Breebaart witnessed a certain pre-eminence for the sayfCs over the qawlCs (which are the only two mentioned in the futuwwat nAma NAXirC ), claiming that the qawlCs commit themselves by their pledge, “but remain uninitiated and do not become full members of the fityan orders.”101 In contrast, the sayfCs “submit themselves to all the rules and are fully initiated; they are the active members of the futuwah order.”102 This distinction between the sayfC and the qawlC was also reflected in Suhrawardc’s writing which was examined earlier. Breebaart admits that the precise nature of the distinction remains obscure, and certainly Zarkeb’s futuwwat nAma has all three engaging in an initiation ceremony, although it appears that there were some differences. For example, it seems that on drinking from the salt-water in the name of his master, the sayfC would receive a sword from him.103 In contrast, the qawli would put on the futuwwat trousers after his oath to his master.104 The futuwwat shaykh and isn1d The discussions about the three kinds of initiates mentioned in the previous section reveal that there was some differentiation, perhaps even a hierarchy, within the associations, and this was designed to promote order under the

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direction of the master. This differentiation among the members is compared by Zarkeb to that within Sufism: The shaykhs have said that in the [Sufi] way there are three [kinds] of shaykh: the shaykh of first resort (shaykh-i tamassuk),105 the shaykh for imitating (shaykh-i takhalluq), and the shaykh for blessing (shaykh-i tabarruk), and there are these three khirqas. But the foundation (aXl ) is the shaykh-i tamassuk, and the chain of transmission (isnAd ) comes from him. The (Sufi) cloak of blessing and imitation (khirqa-yi tabarruk wa takhalluq) are derived through the honour of associating with these [shaykhs] and they add to the strength (ta“kCd ) of the first master. In futuwwat, there are the qawlC, shurbC and sayfC masters, and each one is based on a pledge. There is no merit if someone takes a thousand sips of the futuwwat beverage but does not offer [the futuwwat] pledge [to the shaykh]. So two of these are for the sake of glorifying and blessing and strengthening the chain of transmission. In truth, the master is the first one if he is worthy in futuwwat and if the conditions of futuwwat are present in him.106 The chain of transmission (isnAd ) mentioned in the above quote connects the futuwwat tradition with Sufism, just as early Sufis such as Sulamc were at pains in their writings to be scrupulous in providing chains of transmission for the sayings of Sufi masters to show that Sufism mirrored the tradition of WadCth. The masters of futuwwat, like the Sufi, and like the muWaddith, were concerned with authenticity and legitimacy. A composer of futuwwat treatises such as Sayyid ‘Alc Hamadanc included an isnAd (or silsila) for his own initiation into futuwwat which he traced back to Muwammad.107 In some futuwwat nAmas, the silsila is tied explicitly to the bestowal of the distinct futuwwat clothing. It is worth mention that in the futuwwat nAma of Mcrza ‘Abd al-‘Azcm Khan Qarcb there are two silsilas (one of which is for the bestowal of futuwwat clothing, and the second was most likely for Sufi clothing).108 rusayn Wa‘iz Kashifc gave the silsila of his Sufi master and another for his “father” who initiated him into futuwwat.109 The silsila, aside from attempting to provide a source of legitimacy and authority among members of the association, was significant for the creation of communal identities within the association. Futuwwat clothing If the isnAd or silsila provided a non-material or spiritual manifestation of the futuwwat association, perhaps the most distinctive and obvious sign of futuwwat was the apparel that the members wore. As mentioned in the previous chapter, the earliest source on Sufi-futuwwat, Sulamc, cited Sufis who clothed those with the attributes of futuwwat in Sufi garments, namely the muraqqa“.110 By the time of the appropriation of futuwwat by Caliph Naxir

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and Suhrawardc, and most probably prior to this, the futuwwat members had adopted trousers (the terms that are used include zCr jAma, shilwAr and sarAwCl). As Mawjeb has indicated, the form, shape and colour of these garments is unknown.111 Yet the importance of these trousers in the futuwwat movement lasted well beyond the times of Naxir and Suhrawardc. In the Persian world of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries trousers were central to the associations. The fourteenth-century traveller Ibn Bayyeya stated that the custom of the Sultan of Shiraz, Muwammad Khudabandah (also known as Öljaitu), of bestowing his garments on someone was a great honour which was passed on to his descendants, and “the most honourable garment in this respect [was] the trousers.”112 Ibn Bayyeya does not say whether the sultan was a member of a futuwwat association, but futuwwat was most certainly a feature of life in Shiraz and Isfahan during this period.113 Even if the sultan was not a futuwwat member, it is interesting to speculate that the influence of futuwwat rituals had extended beyond their immediate circle. In the futuwwat nAmas of the time, comparisons are frequently made between the clothing of Sufis and that of members of futuwwat. For example, in a remark that promoted his ribAY Sufism, Suhrawardc stated, The garment of Sufism is the khirqa, and the clothing of futuwwat is the trousers (zCr-i jAma), because the trousers are a part of the khirqa, just as futuwwat is a part of the khirqa and the pillars of the YarCqa are unlimited.114 Kashani offered a variant on the above by claiming that the special garment ( jAma) of futuwwat is the shilwAr, and the khirqa of the Sufis is the cap (kulAh),115 while fmulc stated that the khirqa of futuwwat is the izAr (which is a term to designate a sash to fasten trousers at the waist), while the khirqa of the Sufis is the cap.116 Typically, these garments have symbolic value, as fmulc said that the first step in futuwwat is chastity (“afAf ) and pertains to what is lowest, while the basis of Sufism is progress to the “world of lights” which pertains to what is highest. He added that the end of futuwwat is the beginning of wala,a, and futuwwat is a part of Sufism just as wala,a is a part of prophecy. The stress on chastity recurs in many works on futuwwat (and is also associated with the idealised “ayyArAn). It seems unlikely that the term was understood literally; it is more likely that a spiritual chastity was advocated (typified by Suhrawardc’s counsel that the first of the six manifest pillars of futuwwat was that having taken the pledge of futuwwat the brother must not engage in adultery (zinA)).117 While there were indeed some Sufis who led a celibate life,118 complete chastity would contradict the hypothesis that the futuwwat ideal was a more “relaxed” form of Sufism. Receiving the futuwwat trousers from the master was part of a special initiation ceremony, the description of which is included in Zarkeb’s treatise. The ceremony was performed in front of the brothers, who formed a circle around the trainee and the master. Formal respect towards Islamic ritual was

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maintained as the qibla was to the left-hand side of the trainee and master, but on donning the trousers the trainee faced the qibla. And when he sat down with the trousers having been put on, he did not stretch out his legs, but kept his feet together on the ground.119 Zarkeb describes three kinds of trainee: there is a qawlC whose izAr (sash or belt) is made of white cotton to symbolise the labour of the prophet Adam, who was the first to engage in weaving from cotton, sowing seeds and construction. The qawlC pledge (as mentioned above) is also linked to the four pledges made to the prophethood of Muwammad (Abe Bakr, ‘Alc, Khadcja, and Bilal rabashc ).120 The belt of the second kind of trainee, the shurbC, was made from wool, which symbolised the story of Ibrahcm sacrificing a ram in place of his son Isma‘cl. Another link between Ibrahcm and the shurbC pledge is the Qur’anic story (51.24–8) in which he receives guests and offers them refreshment. He sacrificed a calf (to which Zarkeb alludes) but one assumes that he also offered them liquid refreshment. That he was involved in offering hospitality and showing generosity is a significant point, and the futuwwat tradition of receiving guests and treating them kindly helps to explain why Ibrahcm assumed such an important position within futuwwat (aside from being termed a fatA in the Qur’an). Indeed, Zarkeb stated that Ibrahcm was the first to wear the zCr jAma and the first person to entertain guests (mihmAnC kard).121 Just as the first initiate, the qawlC, has a story linking him with Muwammad, so too does the shurbC. Zarkeb relates an episode in which Muwammad distinguishes himself over Abe Jahl in drinking salt-water rather than wine.122 The third trainee is the sayfC (or the pledge by the sword). The sayfCs are the warriors, and are initiated through a belt of deer skin (which is described as malleable, but strong). This initiation is more suitable for soldiers, and the origin of this initiation leads back to ‘Alc.123 A connection to Muwammad is made too for the sayfCs, as there is a reference to a prophetic WadCth about returning from the lesser jihad to the greater jihad.124 Thus the symbolism of the futuwwat clothing and the different kinds of initiatory belts must have held a special significance for members, as the multiple linkages to Islamic champions presented them with varying degrees of identity upon which to tighten their sentiments of sodality. It is probable that local customs and traditions resulted in variations among the various futuwwat garments. Suhrawardc mentions a woollen garment worn by most of the ahl-i futuwwat called the yAr pCrAhan, which was also known in Fars as the tamAm jAma.125 He added that there were two kinds of khirqa for the ahl-i futuwwat; one was the yAr pCrAhan and the other was the khirqa. The latter was the outer form, while the former was the inner form.126 Other local variations were observed by Ibn Bayyeya who mentioned the particular clothing of the jawAnmardAn or akhCs in Antaliya who wore a long cloak, a girdle around their waist (the initiatory sash?) which kept a knife in place, boots and a white woollen hat.127 Yet more information is provided in the Futuwwat nAma-yi NAXirC, which discusses the kiswat (gown) of the jawAnmardAn. The kiswat should be of a single colour – green or black were

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recommended, as opposed to yellow or red which were the colours worn by pharaohs. The sleeves and length should be short and clean (the garment was to be washed once a week).128 The futuwwat kh1na In the above section reference was made to the initiation ceremony which took place in a building in which there must have been other spiritual rituals (because of the existence of the qibla). In all likelihood this would have been the futuwwat khAna. Not much is known about these buildings, although the Futuwwat nAma-yi NAXirC contains a few lines which reveal that the building was called an AstAna (a threshold, or a resting place) and had a pool or water (probably to perform ablutions for ritual purposes and to refresh guests and the jawAnmardAn), was lighted by candles, had four individual walls (i.e. it was not attached) which were painted white, and had woollen or felt cushions and carpets spread over the ground.129 Depending on the location, some futuwwat khAnas would have had a fire and a chimney, as Ibn Bayyeya describes how in one of the hospices in Belc (central Anatolia) the akhCs kept a fire always alight during the winter. It is easy to sense the sheer relief and pleasure that Ibn Bayyeya felt on his entry into this hospice: When we entered the hospice we found the fire alight, so I took off my clothes, put on others, and warmed myself at the fire; and the Akhc not only brought food and fruit but lavished them. What an excellent body of men these are, how nobleminded, how unselfish and full of compassion for the stranger, how kindly affectionate to the visitor, how magnanimous in their solicitude for him! The coming of a stranger to them is exactly as if he were coming to the dearest of his own kin.130 Ibn Bayyeya gives further information about the hospitality that he received in the futuwwat centres. He was invited to a meal by a cobbler, the shaykh of about two hundred young akhCs of different trades who had elected him their leader. His hospice was carpeted with beautiful Turkish rugs, a “large number of lustres of Iraqi glass,” and there were also five candelabra. In the centre of the hall was “a sort of platform for visitors.”131 Ibn Bayyeya elaborated further: The AkhC builds a hospice and furnishes it with rugs, lamps and what other equipment it requires. His associates work during the day to gain their livelihood, and after the afternoon prayer they bring him their collective earnings; with this they buy fruit, food, and other things needed for consumption in the hospice. If during the day, a traveller alights at the town, they give him lodgings with them; what they have purchased serves for their hospitality to him and he remains with them until his

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departure. If no newcomer arrives, they assemble themselves to partake of food, and after eating they sing and dance. On the morrow they disperse to their occupations, and after the afternoon prayer they bring their collective earnings to their leader.132 The rituals in the futuwwat khAna, as mentioned above, would have included the Sufi samA“ (the singing and dancing of the Anatolian Akhcs appear repeatedly in Ibn Bayyeya’s travelogue, and the samA“ is also mentioned in futuwwat nAmas).133 The singing and dancing always took place after the evening meal and sometimes occurred in the presence of leading religious dignitaries. For example, Ibn Bayyeya describes how in Bursa he was at a hospice attended by a jurist and preacher, Majd al-Dcn al-Qenawc, and after breaking the fast of ‘Ashera and the preacher’s “eloquent homily and exhortation” there was the usual singing and dancing.134 Most likely the futuwwat khAna provided the ahl-i futuwwat with a certain degree of independence and freedom in their rituals and activities from critics such as Ibn Jawzc. It was their own space where Sufi-related worship, feasting and the entertaining of visitors could take place. Yet it was much more than this. As the base of the strong young men in society, the futuwwat khAna probably served as a symbol of the strength of the community and provided forms of defence in times of danger. In the town of Ketahiya (in south-west Anatolia) Ibn Bayyeya describes how two different groups of fityAn were involved in a violent argument about who should give the traveller lodgings.135 While this probably reflects a local rivalry, an attempt to derive prestige and honour from offering hospitality, it is also true that futuwwat associations were means by which society could preserve order and protect itself from the unknown, including travellers, merchants, pilgrims, and anyone else who passed through their territory. Such an observation reflects perhaps one of the aims of the Caliph Naxir in his promotion of futuwwat. The relationship between futuwwat and power was not missed by Ibn Bayyeya, who stayed in the hospice of an Akhc by the name of Amcr ‘Alc in Qaisariya. He was, a great amcr and one of the chiefs of the Akhcs in this country. He is the head of a brotherhood of his disciples, which includes some of the leading men and notables of the city . . . It is one of the customs in this land that in any part of it where there is no sultan, it is the Akhc who acts as governor; it is he who gives horses and robes to the visitor and shows hospitality to him in the measure of his means, and his manner of command and prohibition and riding out [with a retinue] is the same as that of princes.136 One of the striking features of Ibn Bayyeya’s travelogue is the number of leading figures affiliated with the Akhcs. For example, on visiting Konya, he stayed in the hospice of its qAVC who was one of the fatiyAn.137 From the account

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of Ibn Bayyeya it is clear that the akhC phenomenon cut right through social demarcations; high and low born were leaders of futuwwat associations, and, in addition, the Sufi perspectives of these groups did not result in their marginalisation through the influence of the more “orthodox” members of the community. As Ibn Bayyeya’s text reveals, the “orthodox” were more often than not leaders among the futuwwat associations. Since membership was drawn from the trades and crafts, and also from the leading members of society, it would be safe to assume that the futuwwat khAnas were based in the cities and towns. (Of course, there is always an exception, and on one occasion Ibn Bayyeya mentions a hospice “on a lofty mountain without any [other] habitations” which was established by one of the Young Akhcs. The hospice was given a village as an endowment, the revenue from which was to be spent for the maintenance of wayfarers in this hospice.”)138 Although in these sections the examples have been taken from Ibn Bayyeya’s travelogue of his journeys in Anatolia, it should be appreciated that the society that he was observing did not differ greatly from the land that is now Iran. Although Ibn Bayyeya remarked that Anatolia was unique in the tradition of futuwwat, his descriptions of Isfahan and Shiraz reveal a similar phenomenon. It is rather strange, however, that he did not mention any “akhCs” or “fityAn” as he passed through Khorasan. The influence of the tradition in Anatolia would certainly have been recognisable in Persianspeaking territory, if only for the fact that the tradition was manifested in Persian literature that was written in Anatolia. For example, Konya was the location where Ibn Bayyeya found the mausoleum of “the sheikh and pious imam, the pole Jalal al-Dcn, known as Mawlana,”139 and the Persian hagiography of Mawlana contains many references to the akhCs there. For example, one of the individuals who inspired Mawlana was Chalabc rusam al-Dcn, who decided to spend his time in the service of the great Persian poet on the death of his own father who was a great akhC. Indeed, so great was the esteem achieved by rusam’s father that all the “reputable akhCs” were willing to look after his son.140 Membership in the futuwwat associations It has been argued that Caliph Naxir’s reform of futuwwat was an attempt to institute a courtly futuwwat. The political influence and possibilities of connections with the futuwwat movement were not lost on many leaders in the Persian and Anatolian world, as suggested above in the travelogue of Ibn Bayyeya, where there are many examples of powerful leaders of cities and towns who also had their own futuwwat hospice. Aflakc also mentions a certain Akhc Awmad Shah in Konya “who was a chief of the men of chivalry (fotovvat) . . . [who] enjoyed affluence and wealth, and disposed over several thousand soldiers and rogues.”141 However, it is also true that futuwwat was clearly a popular movement among the less privileged in society, and among the ordinary folk who were

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occupied in trade in the bazaar. The futuwwat associations may have served at times as a restraining influence on excessive abuses of power, and tyrannical rulers would have been aware that the futuwwat associations included the young men of urban areas who may have had access to arms or else had trained in the various arts and skills of fighting. Ibn Bayyeya cites an anecdote from Shiraz in which he mentions a carpenter by the name of Pahlawan Mawmed who was able to muster the support of the local people in Shiraz for a certain cause and they killed many troops and seized much money.142 It is not clear if Pahlawan Mawmed was a member of a futuwwat association (although in the fifteenth century Pahlawans were associated with futuwwat),143 but certainly, through futuwwat, the more marginalised members of society had a means through which their interests could be advocated, and perhaps forcefully attained. Of course, it is also true that the ideals of futuwwat may not always have been practised, and as Ibn Bayyeya observed, some of the most powerful individuals in urban areas controlled the futuwwat khAna, in which case, if they were tyranical, the local craftsman might have had absolutely no recourse to any sort of justice. It is noteworthy that Aflakc used adjectives such as reputable,144 good repute,145 and esteemed146 for some akhCs, which might not merely reflect polite and respectful language, but serve to distinguish between those who upheld the ideals of futuwwat and those who did not. Aflakc even mentions an Akhc Awmad, “one of the tyrants of the age and the foremost among the fearsome rogues,”147 who did not wish rusam al-Dcn to become the new shaykh in a certain khAnaqAh, which resulted in a brawl with swords and knives between the followers of Akhc Awmad and the akhCs who supported rusam al-Dcn. Not all marginalised people had access to the futuwwat khAna, however, and this was the case with women. Despite the spiritualisation of the term futuwwat by Sufis such as Sulamc who had described females with this attribute, it is likely that the patriarchal cultural conditions of the Persian world in the post-Mongol period did not allow women into these associations. Suhrawardc’s futuwwat nAmas provide good evidence of the rejection of female participation (see above) and this position was continued in the subsequent tradition. For example, in a list of forbidden individuals in futuwwat the author of the futuwwat nAma-yi MCrzA “Abd al-“AZCm KhAn QarCb states in clear language: Futuwwat is not for the hermaphrodite (YanjCr), and neither for a woman, because the two are equal. The hermaphrodite is the person who is neither a man nor a woman, and is imputed to [engage] in shameful acts, which are despised among men. And there is no futuwwat for women because the prophet said, “They are incomplete in intelligence and in religion.”148 The rejection of female participation in futuwwat stands in sharp contrast to the Sufi tradition, in which there are numerous examples of women following

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the spiritual path. In this respect Sufism was more of a universal, allembracing movement, for those who accepted its more demanding principles and rituals and were prepared to abide by its rules could be admitted; however, this was not the case with futuwwat. In the Sufi-inspired futuwwat nAmas written prior to Kashifc (see the next chapter) there are frequently sections which discuss those who cannot be admitted into the group. For example, in the futuwwat nAma of MCrzA “Abd al-“AZCm KhAn QarCb there is a list of eight groups for whom futuwwat was impermissible. These were the seducers, gossipers, those who scorned earning a living, the jealous and miserly, those with a dark (aXfar) complexion, the innovator (that is, those who are not among the ahl-i sunnat wa jamA“at), the physically impaired, and lastly the hermaphrodite or the woman. In addition to these eight, futuwwat was also forbidden for the unmarried man, the slave and wine-drinkers.149 Restrictions to futuwwat also seem to have been based on trade lines. This is made clear in the so-called futuwwat nAma NAXirC. In this short work there is a section entitled “Twelve people for whom futuwwat is not allowed.” These twelve are the unbeliever, the hypocrite, the soothsayer (kAhin), the person who drinks continuously, the bath attendant (dallAk), the broker (dallAl), the weaver ( jawlAh), the butcher (qaXXAb), the surgeon ( jarrAh), the hunter (XayyAd), the porter (“Amil ) and the speculator or hoarder (muWtakir).150 The reason for the exclusion of some of these individuals is probably related to the issue of preserving ritual purity (the butcher, hunter and surgeon). And as Breebaart has indicated with reference to the bath attendant, the aversion to nakedness may have accounted for his non-admission. The prohibition on weavers is intriguing, especially as Suhrawardc had lauded the prophet Seth who engaged in weaving (bAfandagC ),151 although it has been argued that weavers were predominantly male and female slaves, and were scorned for their ignorance and stupidity.152 However, it may be the case that the exclusion was specific to the time and location, and other trades may have been included or excluded in other times and places. There are no such restrictions in Kashifc’s text (although there is the possibility that he may have planned to write a section on this topic). Structure of the futuwwat associations Much information about the structure of the futuwwat associations at the time of the Caliph al-Naxir is found in the Arabic treatise of Ibn Mi‘mar.153 fmulc’s Persian RisAla futuwwatiya contains a chapter which includes exactly the same list with the addition of one extra term,154 which suggests that either he was using Ibn Mi‘mar’s text, or else there was a strong continuity between the futuwwat of the pre-Mongol period and the futuwwat associations in fmulc’s lifetime in the fourteenth century. Some of these terms are particularly instructive in revealing how the associations were able to create distinct identities for themselves. For example, the first term, bayt (house), is described by fmulc as the name of the group

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which is distinguished from other groups of fatiyAn by an attribute or a belief.155 A Wizb (party, or clique) is related to one person. There may be many aWzAb within the bayt, and these agree with each other and exchange ideas, whereas the buyEt may be in conflict. fmulc’s third term, the nisba, is the connection of the jawAnmard with his kabCr, who is the person in whose name the jawAnmardAn drink. He is also called “father,” shaykh, chief, leader, ally and head of the Wizb. The next term is the za“Cm-i qawm, the leader of the people, and it is necessary that people follow his opinion, and he must continually counsel the fatiyAn, and he is responsible for giving advice, mentioning the virtues of futuwwat and its conditions.156 The sixth term, the jadd (grandfather), is the kabCr of the kabCr, and he may serve people who are more distant and remote (perhaps meaning remote from the immediate circle). The next terms, the rafiq (companion), musA”il (perhaps musAbil), dakish, and naqCl, refer to various types of individuals who are affiliated or wish to be affiliated to the futuwwat associations. The other technical terms listed refer to certain elements of ritual and the relations between the various members of the futuwwat, and these have been summarised by Breebaart, so it is not necessary to list them all here. The above has merely highlighted several of these terms because it further illustrates the hierarchical nature of the associations; and moreover the adoption of specific nomenclature served to increase the sense of identity and belonging within the futuwwat. It is clear that between al-Naxir’s adoption of futuwwat and the Safavid period from the sixteenth century, futuwwat was identified with the Sufi tradition, yet at the same time it had its own unique identity. This was due to its structure, nomenclature, rituals, ideology, and its role in society which, as has been shown, was central to law and order. The importance of futuwwa in this period should not be underestimated, as Persian society and Sufism cannot be fully comprehended without reference to futuwwa.

Notes 1 Angelika Hartmann, “Al-Naxir li-Dcn Allah,” EI 2, vol. VII, Leiden: Brill, 1993, p. 999. 2 Ibid. 3 Herbert Mason, Two Statesmen of Mediaeval Islam, The Hague: Mouton, 1972, p. 120. 4 D.A. Breebaart, “The Development and Structure of the Futuwah Guilds,” Doctoral dissertation, Princeton University, 1961, p. 63. 5 P. Wittek, “Deux chapitres de l’histoire des Turcs de Rum; I. Les traits essentials de la period seldjoucide en Asie Mineure; II. Les Ghazis dans l’histoire ottomane,” Byzantium, vol. 6, 1936. 6 Franz Taeschner, “Islamisches Ordensittertum zur Zeit der Kreuzzüge,” Die Welt als Geschichte, 4, 1938, pp. 382– 402. 7 Mason, Two Statesmen, pp. 90 –1. 8 Mason, Two Statesmen, citing Cahen, “Baghdad au temps de ses derniers califes,” Arabica, 9, 1962, p. 302. 9 Mason, Two Statesmen, p. 98.

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10 Ibid., pp. 123 –5. 11 Gerard Salinger, “Was the FutEwa an Oriental Form of Chivalry?” Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, 94(5), 19 October, 1950, p. 490. 12 The incident is described by the thirteenth-century chronicler, Ibn al-Sa’c. His report has been translated by Salinger, “Was the FutEwa an Oriental Form of Chivalry?” pp. 485 – 6. The various associations of futuwwat in Baghdad included the Rahhaxcya, the Shuwayncya, the Khalclcya, the Mawlidcya and the Nabawcya. The names indicate that they may have been formed around lineage. It is unclear whether other factors, such as occupational or geographical, influenced affiliation. 13 Mason, Two Statesmen, p. 119. 14 For example, in 1193 Naxir ordered the construction of a Sufi hospice, “reportedly one of the finest, on the west bank of the Tigris, to which he also gave many books.” Mason, Two Statesmen, p. 116. Naxir’s relationship, support, and use of Suhrawardc may also indicate his sympathy for Sufism. 15 Qamar-ul-Huda, Striving for Divine Union: Spiritual Exercises for SuhrawardC SEfCs, London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003, p. 31. 16 Ibid., p. 32. 17 Jamc, NafaWAt al-Uns, M. ‘Abidc (ed.), Tehran: Iyyila‘at, 1370/1991–2, p. 473. 18 Abe Najcb Suhrawardc was the author of the KitAb Adab al-MurCdCn (edited, abridged and translated by Menahem Milton), A Sufi Rule for Novices, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1975). 19 Jamc, NafaWAt al-Uns, p. 473. 20 “AwArif al-Ma“Arif, Beirut: Dar al-Kitab al-‘Arabi, 1983. 21 Angelika Hartmann, “Al-Suhrawardc,” EI 2, vol. IX, Leiden: Brill, 1997, p. 779. 22 Qamar-ul Huda, Striving for Divine Union, p. 14. 23 H. Laoust, “Ibn al-Djawzc,” EI 2, vol. III, Leiden: Brill, 1971, pp. 751–2. Ibn Jawzc’s influence in Baghdad reached the extent that at one point he was the director of five madrasas. 24 Mason, Two Statesmen, p. 99, n. 41, 25 Angelika Hartmann, “Al-Suhrawardc,” p. 779. 26 William Chittick, “‘Awaref al-Ma‘aref,” in Encyclopedia Iranica, vol. III, New York: Bibliotheca Persica Press, 2000, pp. 114–15. 27 Qamar-ul Huda, Striving for Divine Union, p. 14. 28 Angelika Hartmann, “Al-Suhrawardc,” p. 779. 29 These two futuwwat nAmas (risAlat al-futuwwat and kitAb fC ”l-futuwwat) appear in Murtiva sarraf (ed.), RasA”il-i jawanmardAn, Tehran: Institut Français en Iran (2nd edn), 1991, pp. 89 –102, 103 – 66. 30 Erik Ohlander, Sufism in an Age of Transition, Leiden: Brill, 2008. 31 Ibid., pp. 187– 8. 32 The period in which this transition took place has been a matter of debate among scholars. See the conflicting views of Fritz Meier and Laury Silvers-Alario. Meier, “Khurasan and the End of Classical Sufism,” pp. 189–219. L. Silvers-Alario, “The Teaching Relationship in Early Sufism: A Reassessment of Fritz Meier’s Definition of the shaykh al-tarbiya and the shaykh al-ta“lCm,” The Muslim World, 93, January 2003, pp. 69 – 97. 33 Ohlander, Sufism in an Age of Transition, p. 193. 34 The word akhC was used for the members of the futuwwat associations in both Anatolia and also Iran. In Arabic the word means “my brother” so this might explain the derivation of the word. Alternatively, it seems that the Uyghur Turkish word akî meant generous, which also may account for the usage of the word. (See F. Taeschner, “Akhc,” EI 2, vol. I, Leiden: Brill, 1960, pp. 321–3.) Shafc‘cKadkanc has argued that the term appeared in Persian and Arabic works before entering works that were written in Anatolia. Persian Sufis applied the term to

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35 36 37 38 39 40

41

42 43 44

45 46 47 48 49 50

51 52 53

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each other in the tenth and eleventh centuries. He states, “The word akhC was transferred from the Sufi khAnaqAhs of Khurasan in the fourth and fifth centuries [hijra] to the centres (langar) of the Qalandars, and also from the langars to the retreats (takiya-hA) of the fityAn and jawAnmardAn, and in this way it entered into Anatolian futuwwat texts and the Turkish language.” See his Qalandariyya dar tArCkh, p. 367. By the thirteenth century the term akhC was used frequently to refer to a member of the futuwwat associations, and is used in Suhrawardc’s texts. The origin of the term has been discussed by Cl. Cahen, “Sur les traces des premiers akhis,” in Mélanges Fuad Köprülü, Istanbul, 1953, pp. 81–91. Ohlander, Sufism in an Age of Transition, p. 280. Hartmann, “Al-Suhrawardc,” p. 779. Ohlander, Sufism in an Age of Transition, pp. 280–1. Cahen, “Sur les traces des premiers akhis,” pp. 81–91. Cahen, “Baghdad au temps de ses derniers califes,” p. 301. Suhrawardc, KitAb fC ”l-futuwwat, pp. 125 – 6. This quote should be compared to Ohlander’s citation of Suhrawardc’s answer to a question about residing in places built from the money of sultans or political powers. He answered that it was permissible to reside in them, but not to eat from their endowments unless engaged in a programme of full-time spiritual devotions. Ohlander, Sufism in an Age of Transition, p. 196. These two works describe the initiation rituals of futuwwat, the technical terms of futuwwat, the practices and the hierarchical structures within the Baghdad associations. For an overview of this see Breebaart, “Development and Structure,” pp. 69 –108. Ibn Mi‘mar traces the chain back to Salman al-Farsc: see his remarks cited in Salinger, “Was the FutEwa an Oriental Form of Chivalry?” p. 488. In chapter five of his treatise, Khartibirtc takes the line back to ‘Alc. Breebaart, “Development and Structure,” p. 90. His silsila is given in Massignon, “La ‘Futuwwat’, ou ‘Pact D’Honneur Artisanal,’ ” p. 420. See Leonard Lewisohn, “ ‘Ali Ibn Abi Talib’s Ethics of Mercy in the Mirror of the Persian Sufi Tradition,” in H. Ali Lakhani, R. Shah-Kazemi and L. Lewisohn, The Sacred Foundations of Justice in Islam, London: World Wisdom Books, 2007, pp. 112–17. I.K. Poonawala, “ ‘Alc B. Abc taleb,” i. Life,” Encyclopedia Iranica, vol. I, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1985. Suhrawardc, RisAlat al-futuwwat, p. 100. Ibid., p. 101. Suhrawardc, KitAb fC ”l-futuwwat, p. 111. This is traditionally understood as the night on which the Qur’an was revealed to Muwammad. It was during one of the last ten days during Ramadan. Corbin reads this passage in an overtly Shc‘-ite fashion. He remarked that the shab-i barAt was the night on which the 12th Imam was born. Henri Corbin, “Introduction Analytique,” in sarraf, RasA”il-i jawAnmardAn, p. 54. It is unlikely that Suhrawardc had this in mind when he was composing his treatise. Rather the significance of shab-i barAt is that it is the night of the visible full moon of the eighth lunar month, when it is believed that God decides the fate of humanity over the next year. During this night there are special prayers and festivities. See Qamar-ul Huda, Striving for Divine Union, pp. 162–3. Suhrawardc, KitAb fC ”l-futuwwat, pp. 112–13. Ibid., p. 111. In his RisAlat al-futuwwat (pp. 93 – 4) Suhrawardc relates the following: Futuwwat was the YarCqat and the YarCqat was futuwwat until Ibrahcm’s age when the bewildered ones, lovers and those yearning for God approached

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Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism him and said, “O Prophet of God! We want to move freely among the people, but we cannot bear the weight of the Sufi khirqa since we are weak. And the Most High said, ‘Man was created weak’ (4.28). Establish a YarCqat so that we may also find some share in the benefits of those men for we are yearning for God.” Ibrahcm swam in the ocean of YarCqat and found the island of futuwwat. He settled a group of bewildered ones in the boat of the sharC“at and rowed in the ocean of YarCqat until he reached the island of futuwwat.

54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86

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Suhrawardc, KitAb fC ”l-futuwwat, p. 105. Ibid., pp. 129 –33. Ibid., pp. 108 – 9. Sentences in italics indicate Arabic instead of Persian. Suhrawardc, RisAlat al-futuwwat, p. 101. Ohlander, Sufism in an Age of Transition, p. 286. Ibid., p. 287. Ibid. Sulamc, KitAb TabaqAt al-SEfiyya, Ner al-Dcn Sharcba (ed.), Cairo, 1969, p. 118. Suhrawardc, KitAb fC ”l-futuwwat, p. 127. The Travels of Ibn Battuta, translated by H.A.R. Gibb, Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1993, vol. II, pp. 295 – 6. RisAlat al-futuwwat, pp. 150 – 63. Ibid., pp. 164 – 6. KitAb fC ”l-futuwwat, pp. 148– 9, 164 –5. Ibid., p. 160. Ibid., p. 161. Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, translated by Alan Sheridan, London: Penguin, 1991, pp. 195–228. This expression is also used by Suhrawardc, KitAb fC”l-futuwwat, p. 140. Ibid., p. 143. Ibid., pp. 128– 9. Ibid., p. 122. Ibid., pp. 122–3. Ibid., pp. 123 – 4. Ibid., pp. 133 – 4. Ibid., p. 125. Ibid., p. 159. Ibid., p. 127. Ibid., p. 134. Ibid., pp. 140 –1. Ibid., p. 152. RisAlat al-futuwwat, pp. 98– 9. Ohlander, Sufism in an Age of Transition, pp. 281–2. Najm al-Dcn Zarkeb, “Futuwwat Nama,” in sarraf, RasA”il-i jawAnmardAn, pp. 191, 211. rusayn Wa‘iz Kashifc, Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC, M.J. Mawjeb (ed.), Tehran: Bunyad-i Farhang-i Iran, 1971 p. 6. He comments that references to futuwwat have been made in the futuwwat nAma of the “Greatest Shaykh” (shaykh-i kabir) whose identity is unknown, and immediately following this he mentions the “AwArif al-Ma“Arif of Suhrawardc. ‘Abd al-Razzaq Kashanc, “Tuwfat al-Ikhwan fc khaxa’ix al-fatiyan,” in sarraf, RasA”il-i jawAnmardAn, p. 12. See the futuwwat nAma entitled “Futuwwat Nama-yi Mcrza ‘Abd al-‘Azcm Khan Qarcb,” in Mihran Afsharc, ChahArdah risAla dar bAb-i futuwwat wa aXnAf, Tehran: Nashr-i chishma, 1381/2002–3, p. 76.

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89 Ibid., pp. 62–3. 90 ‘Abd al-Razzaq Kashanc, “Tuwfat al-Ikhwan,” p. 5. 91 At one point Kashanc calls ‘Alc “the Pole of the Poles of the jawAnmardAn.” “Tuwfat al-Ikhwan,” p. 38. 92 ‘Abd al-Razzaq Kashanc, “Tuwfat al-Ikhwan,” pp. 10–11. rusayn Wa‘iz Kashifc cites Kashanc’s description: see Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC, p. 6. 93 ‘Abd al-Razzaq Kashanc, “Tuwfat al-Ikhwan,” p. 10. 94 Shams al-Dcn fmulc, “Risala-yi futuwwatiyya,” p. 63. 95 Ibid., p. 64. 96 Sayyid ‘Alc Hamadanc, “Risala-yi futuwwatiyya,” p. 165. 97 Najm al-Dcn Zarkeb, “Futuwwat Nama,” p. 188. 98 Ibid., p. 189. 99 Ibid., p. 190. 100 Reference to the Qur’an, 48.12, which was revealed in the shadow of Muwammad’s treaty of rudaybiyah in 628. Watt calls the pact of allegiance, “the Pledge of Good Pleasure.” See M. Watt, Muhammad: Prophet and Statesman, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1961, p. 187. 101 Breebaart, “Development and Structure,” p. 126. 102 Ibid. 103 Najm al-Dcn Zarkeb, “Futuwwat Nama,” p. 189. 104 Ibid., pp. 194 – 6. It should be stated that it is not exactly clear whether it is just the qawlC who puts on the trousers in the ceremony, or whether all three kinds of initiate would do this. However, the preceding passage in Zarkeb’s treatise discusses the qawlC, so the subsequent passages may pertain to the qawlC alone. This appears to be Mihran Afsharc’s reading of the text. See his introduction to Futuwwat nAma-hA wa rasA”il-i KhAksAriyya, Tehran: Institute for Humanities and Cultural Studies, 2003, p. 35. 105 I have not found the shaykh-i tamassuk mentioned in other Sufi texts. Tamassuk means to “take hold of” or “seize,” but from the context it is clear that the shaykhi tamassuk is the most important shaykh of all, and is the person to whom all doubts, questions and issues should be addressed. 106 Najm al-Dcn Zarkeb, “Futuwwat Nama,” p. 197. 107 Sayyid ‘Alc Hamadanc, “Risala-yi futuwwatiyya,” pp. 190–6. 108 “Futuwwat Nama-yi Mcrza ‘Abd al-‘Azcm Khan Qarcb,” in Afsharc, ChahArdah risAla, pp. 97–100. The text has dropped several words; importantly, it is not clear if the second silsila is about Sufi clothing, but this is the interpretation given by the editor, Mihran Afsharc (p. 99, n. 1). It would seem that the silsila is most likely Sufi because as it nears its origin it passes through those who have been considered celebrated Sufis (Sarc Saqayc, Ma‘ref Karkhc, Da’ed al-ta’c, rabcb al-‘Ajamc and rasan al-Baxrc ). 109 Kashifc, Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC, pp. 123 – 4. 110 Sulamc, KitAb TabaqAt al-SEfiyya, p. 255. 111 M.J. Mahjub, Ayin-e Javanmardan (Fotowwat), New York: Biblioteca Persian Press, 2000, p. 162. 112 The Travels of Ibn Battuta, vol. II, p. 304. 113 One need only refer to the Futuwwat nAma-yi NAXirC (a Persian mathnawC which according to S. Nafcsc was written in 1290, probably in Shiraz by one Naxir al-Dcn); see Abdalbaqi Golpinarli, Futuwwat dar Kishwar-hA-yi IslAmC (translated into Persian by Tawfcq Subwanc), Tehran: Kitabkhana-yi millc-yi Iran, 1378/ 1999 –2000, pp. 153 – 4. Golpinarli’s original Turkish essay was called “Islam ve Türk illerinde Fütüvvet Te[kilati ve kaynaklarl,” in the Journal of the Department of Economics, Istanbul, 11(14), 1949–50. With regard to futuwwat in Isfahan, see The Travels of Ibn Battuta, vol. II, pp. 295–6. Breebaart has cited another text by the same author, KitAb al-IshrAq, composed in 1299, in which

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118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126

127 128 129 130 131 132 133

134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143

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Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism several Anatolian towns are mentioned. On this basis, it is assumed that Naxir al-Dcn resided in Anatolia. Breebaart, “Development and Structure,” p. 117, n. 20. RisAla al-futuwwat, p. 94. Kashani, “Tuwfat al-Ikhwan,” p. 15. Shams al-Dcn fmulc, “Risala-yi futuwwatiyya,” p. 74. Suhrawardc, RisAlat al-futuwwat, p. 94. Ibn Bayyeya begs to differ with his description of the Anatolian jawAnmardAn (the akhCs), as he said, “An Akhc, in their idiom, is a man whom the assembled members of his trade, together with others of the unmarried men and those who have adopted the celibate life, choose to be their leader. This is [what is called] al-futuwwat also.” See The Travels of Ibn Battuta, vol. II, p. 419. Najm al-Dcn Zarkeb, “Futuwwat Nama,” p. 195. Ibid. Ibid., p. 188. Ibid., p. 196. Ibid., pp. 189 – 90. Ibid., p. 189. Ibid. A literal translation of this is the complete garment. Suhrawardc, KitAb fC”l-futuwwat, pp. 160–1. Afsharc has noted that the term “yAr” in “yAr pCrAhan” is a form of the word “ayyAr – thus the original term may have been “ayyAr pCrAhan, suggestive perhaps of the origins of futuwwat (Afsharc, FuwwatnAma-hA wa rasA”Cl khAksAriyya, p. 163). While yAr pCrAhan is a possible reading, the two words can be read in the iVAfa construction (yAr-i pCrAhan) which literally means “friend of the shirt,” which semantically is not beyond the realm of possibility. The Travels of Ibn Battuta, vol. II, p. 419. Futuwwat nAma-yi NAXirC, p. 191. Ibid., pp. 184 –5. The Travels of Ibn Battuta, vol. II, p. 460. Ibid., pp. 420 –1. Ibid., p. 419. See for example the “Futuwwat Nama-yi Mcrza ‘Abd al-‘Azcm Khan Qarcb,” which includes a chapter entitled, “Explaining Whether the SamA“ is Legally Permitted or Forbidden.” Included in Afsharc, ChahArdah risAla, pp. 103–8. The samA“ also appears in Futuwwat nAma-yi NAXirC, pp. 194–5. The Travels of Ibn Battuta, vol. II, p. 450. Ibid., p. 426. Ibid., p. 434. Ibid., p. 430. Ibid., p. 465. Ibid., p. 430. Shams al-Dcn Awmad Aflakc, The Feats of the Knowers of God (ManAqeb al-”arefCn), translated by John O’Kane, Leiden: Brill, 2002, pp. 515–16. Ibid., p. 419. The Travels of Ibn Battuta, vol. II, p. 308. The PahlawAns were the champions at wrestling, and the most famous of all was the fourteenth-century champion Perya-yi Walc who has been regarded as the epitome of the jawAnmard (see Chapter 6). Kashifc devoted a whole chapter to the wrestlers in his futuwwat nAma, see Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC, pp. 306–12. Aflakc, The Feats of the Knowers of God, p. 515. Ibid., p. 527.

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Ibid., p. 376. Ibid., p. 526. “Futuwwat Nama-yi Mcrza ‘Abd al-‘Azcm Khan Qarcb,” p. 90. Afsharc, ChahArdah risAla, pp. 87–92. Golpinarli, Futuwwat dar Kishvar-hA-yi IslAmC, pp. 161–4. Suhrawardc, RisAlat al-futuwwat, p. 91. See the discussion of Goldziher, as cited in Breebaart, “Development and Structure,” p. 123, n. 29. Breebaart has provided a summary of the twenty-four technical terms that appear in chapters six and seven of this work. See “Development and Structure,” pp. 74– 85. fmulc, “RisAla futuwwatiya,” pp. 75 – 8. Ibid., p. 75. Ibid., p. 76.

4

Timurid futuwwat The case of rusayn Wa‘iz Kashifc

Introduction Kamal al-dcn rusayn b. ‘Alc Wa‘iz Kashifc was among the literati of the illustrious Timurid court based in Herat towards the end of the fifteenth century. The breadth of his scholarly writings is a testimony to the artistic and literary appreciation of his times, as about forty major works are attributed to him.1 His position at the Timurid court indicates the esteem in which he was held, yet his popularity was also posthumous, and is partly based on his narration of the events at Karbala, the RawZat al-shuhAda,2 which served the interests of the nascent Shc‘-ite dynasty in Safavid Iran. Another popular piece of writing (as evidenced by hundreds of manuscripts) is his Persian commentary on the Qur’an, known as MawAhib-i “aliyya.3 Kashifc also rendered popular tales into ornate Persian prose; in particular, he retold the Arabic fable KalCla wa Dimna (which was a series of stories using animals as the main characters, adapted from a Sanskrit text by Ibn Muqaffa (d. c. 756)).4 In addition, Kashifc was deeply interested in the more esoteric dimension of Islam, and this is clear in his commentary on Remc’s mathnawC (SharW-i mathnawC ), an anthology of the same work by Remc (LubAb al-ma“nawC fC intikhAb-i mathnawC ), and an abridged version of the above treatise (Lubb-i lubAb-i mathnawC ). His attachment to Sufism is also clear in his writing on futuwwat which he located squarely within the Sufi tradition. He stated, “Know that the knowledge of futuwwat is an honourable one, and [it is] a branch of the knowledge of Sufism and the Unity of God.”5 Kashifc composed two works on futuwwat: the first was a lengthy treatise, the Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC, which outlined the theoretical, practical and institutional dimensions of futuwwat; the second, the RisAla-yi RAtimiya, is a much shorter work which provides an ideal of the futuwwat ethic through a series of episodes in the life of the pre-Islamic Arab tribal leader, ratim ta’c. The preliminary section of this chapter will provide some background information on the author followed by a brief investigation about whether Kashifc introduced anything new to futuwwat, or whether he continued to expound certain themes in futuwwat that had been present for a number of

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centuries. Subsequently his Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC will be analysed from three different perspectives: the personal, individual ethic; the social form; and the occupational associations. Given the recognition among scholars of the importance of his work,6 it is surprising that no major study has been undertaken to clarify and elucidate its significance.7 This may be due to the perception in recent Western scholarship on Kashifc that he was a compiler and largely derivative, rather than an original thinker. While it is true that the Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC was derivative (Kashifc himself admits that he had borrowed from the existing writings on futuwwat) and he was very much the compiler, his work was not without any original features, as the later chapters contain much information about Timurid society that is unique. Finally his RisAla-yi RAtimiya will be studied, and possible differences from the Sufi tradition will be highlighted.

Preliminary remarks K!shif#’s futuwwat and the Sh#«-ite and Naqshband# orientation disputed Kashifc was born in Sabzawar around the 1420s and by profession he was a preacher, hence his laqab, “Wa‘iz.” In the 1470s he settled in Herat, and became associated with the great Naqshbandc Sufi, ‘Abd al-Rawman Jamc.8 This association must have been amicable (initially, at least) as it has been claimed that Jamc inducted him into the Naqshbandc Sufi order,9 and in addition, Kashifc married Jamc’s sister.10 Kashifc must have been held in great esteem at the Timurid court in Herat, and evidence of this is contained within his own writings, as he claims in the RisAla-yi RAtimiya that he had been asked by the Sultan ( rusayn Bayqara) to compose the work.11 Moreover, his AnwAr-i SuhaylC “received enthusiastic acclaim from the whole Persian speaking world,”12 and his LawAyiW al-Qamar was compiled at the request of the court vizier Majd al-dcn Muwammad Khwafc.13 He was extremely popular with the masses which reflected his success as a preacher. His preaching schedule had him delivering sermons and leading the congregational prayers on Fridays, and preaching in madrasas and Sufi shrines on Tuesdays. The Timurid statesman Mcr ‘Alc Shcr Nawa’c remarked that during his sermons, “no matter how spacious a place, there is such a huge crowd that most people cannot find seats. At times the crowd was so dense that people were in danger of being trampled over.”14 Although Kashifc had good relations with the notables at the Herat court, there are some indications that not all was well all of the time. For example, his relationship with Jamc may have been complicated, as Kashifc was suspected of harbouring Shc‘ite beliefs, which would not have been welcomed by the staunchly Sunni Naqshbandc Sufi. Indeed, the following verse has been attributed to Jamc, and is supposed to have been directed at Kashifc: O blind man! Tell me, what is the reason for this trouble in your head? Why does your eye have no light for the companions of the prophet?

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Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism O man of devilish attribute! If you have not been excluded Then tell the truth, why is your left eye blind?15

Kashifc’s denominational inclinations are far from clear. His upbringing in the predominantly Shc‘ite milieu in Sabzawar may have left more than a veneer of Shc‘ism, as the above-mentioned Mcr ‘Alc Shcr Nawa’c felt obliged to state that Kashifc was “clear of their [Shc‘ite] heresy and free of their false creed, although he is not free from such an accusation.”16 Sabzawar had been the centre of the Sarbadarc uprising in 1335, which established a Shc‘ite-based rule for some seventy years.17 It received significant support from a mystical form of militant Shc‘-ism which had an armed force that was “organised along the lines of the futuwwat and was composed of artisans and merchants.”18 Amanat suggests that Kashifc’s Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC was an effort to commemorate the Sarbadarc age.19 It is perhaps more useful to see the Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC in a longer historical perspective, which, in fact, seems to be the very opinion of Kashifc himself. This is because in his introduction to his work, Kashifc mentions a number of sources that predate the Sarbadarcs,20 suggesting that it was the concept and ideal of futuwwat that was important rather than an offering to a more recent age. It is difficult to verify Amanat’s claim, especially when considering the ‘Alid slant that has traditionally been evident in treatises on futuwwat since the time of Suhrawardc. It is also true that even among Sunni circles there were groups who were very sympathetic towards ‘Alc and the Imams.21 Kashifc’s real affiliations are problematised even more by the possibility that if he were an adherent of Shc‘ism then he may have resorted to the practice of dissimulation (taqiyya). Even within his writings it is difficult to fathom Kashifc’s position. Amanat suggests that his Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC “verifies” his “Shi‘i-Sufi affiliations” because the work is dedicated to the eighth Imam, Musa al-Riva.22 However, Amanat fails to state that in his introduction to Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC, Kashifc mentions the masters of the spiritual way who have persevered in the perfection of the foundations of religion, and he proceeds to include Muwammad, Abe Bakr, ‘Umar, ‘Uthman and ‘Alc.23 Despite this, the ‘Alid sentiments are overwhelming in the treatise. For example, Kashifc mentions that in the initiation ceremony, the aspiring fatA takes an oath by the twelve Imams (mentioning the name of each Imam).24 The number of works on futuwwat in the period between Suhrawardc in the twelfth to thirteenth centuries and Kashifc in the fifteenth to sixteenth centuries (many of which expressed ‘Alid sentiments despite being composed by Sunni authors) points to a complexity of religious identity that defies simple solutions. The praise of ‘Alc by Suhrawardc (who was a Shafc‘c) appears quite remarkable, but after Suhrawardc it became typical in the futuwwat tradition: The Verifiers of the Truth have said that if there had been another prophet after Muwammad, it would have been ‘Alc because he was the son of

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the Prophet’s paternal uncle. He was also descended from Ibrahcm, and Prophecy was not discounted from Ibrahcm’s group of people (zumra), nevertheless, ‘Alc did not attain to Prophecy since Muwammad Muxyafa was the Seal of the Prophets. But futuwwat was ‘Alc’s inheritance because he was among the great Friends of God, and the sun of futuwwat rises from either the constellation of Prophecy or the constellation of Friendship of God. Although ‘Alc was not a Prophet he was a Friend of God. From the time of Prophecy until the trumpet blow [of judgement day], there has not been and there is not anyone comparable to ‘Alc in terms of futuwwat.25 There is one futuwwat nAma that despite lauding the role and contribution of ‘Alc, includes derogatory remarks about Shc‘ism. In this treatise (a pre-Safavid futuwwat nAma edited by Mihran Afsharc), the author offers several examples of when listening to samA“ is WarAm.26 One of these is when there is satire or a taunt directed at the “people of religion,” as satires and taunts are found “in the poetry of the Shc‘ites.”27 Therefore, even in futuwwat nAmas where there is an ‘Alid flavour, it is necessary to be cautious about attributing this to Shc‘ite partisanship. While there was conflict between Shc‘ites and Sunnis, Babayan has observed greater levels of competition in writing between Islamic and pre-Islamic-Iranian themes (or “Persianate culture” (typified by the ShAhnAma, Vis o Ramin, and Zoroastian sayings)).28 This theory that a Persian ethic that was centred around nobility, loyalty, honour and piety29 (and exemplified by the heroes of the ShAhnAma and Samak-i “AyyAr) was translated onto ‘Alc and the Imams30 seems to resolve the apparent contradiction of Sunni authors of futuwwat nAmas praising ‘Alid heroes. Although the ethic that Babayan describes frequently seems too universal to justify the appellation “Persian” (for example, nobility, loyalty, honour and piety were also found among Japanese samurai warriors of the pre-modern period), the point is at times well founded. Her following remarks may offer some insight into the denominational confusion in post-Mongol Iran and also in Kashifc’s own persuasion: Whether there existed a consciousness of such continuities31 – in other words, whether these patterns were identified by some who experienced them as Iranian – is uncertain. But through the singing and memorising of epic histories in these fraternal communities [ futuwwat], traces of a Persian ethos and worldview seem to have survived alongside a bourgeoning Alid memory.32 Although there is no evidence in the futuwwat nAmas that I have seen of the fraternal communities singing and memorising the epic histories, it is most likely true that individual members were more than familiar with works such as the ShAhnAma. Kashifc mentions and alludes to some of the famous characters (and horses) of the ShAhnAma in his RisAla-yi RAtimiya.33 He

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perceives no conflict between Islamic and Persianate symbols in his Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC, as he mixes Islamic prophetology with a legendary king from the ShAhnAma.34 While Babayan’s general thesis may be correct (that pre-Islamic themes were adopted by Iranians and emplotted on to an Islamic and ‘Alid structure), it should be pointed out that this was not an innovation of Kashifc, as these ‘Alid sentiments and specific Shc‘ite identities had been present for some three hundred years. It is necessary to be somewhat cautious about making any kind of definitive conclusions relating to the discussion about cultural continuity. What does seem to be the case is that from the twelfth century there was an increasing tendency towards sympathy for Shc‘ite movements.35 Whether futuwwat was a manifestation of this, or whether it was a driving force in this direction, is open to speculation. Just as the long legacy of lauding the role of ‘Alc within futuwwat should warn scholars about making hasty assumptions concerning the “Shc‘-ite” persuasion of Kashifc, caution should be exercised when assessing the impact of Timurid Sufi masters and orders, in particular, the Naqshbandcs. Arley Loewen has stressed the significance of the Naqshbandc contribution within Kashifc’s Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC.36 While there can be little doubt that Kashifc was subject to the intellectual currents and religious persuasions of his times, he would also have inherited the traditions and customs of previous generations, and this may well have exercised as much, perhaps more, leverage over the contents of his writings. For example, Loewen argues that the “stress on scrupulous behaviour for the javAnmard reflects the culture of eastern Khurasan and Transoxiana during the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries.”37 Indeed, Loewen remarks that this is one of the features that makes the Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC distinct from other treatises on futuwwat. This claim cannot be substantiated in the light of the works of masters such as Sulamc (d. 1021) and Suhrawardc. For example, in his introduction to his KitAb al-futuwwat Sulamc states, Know that futuwwat means following the ordinances of perfect devotion, leaving all evil, and attaining in action and thought the best visible and hidden good conduct . . . there is a futuwwat fit for your behaviour towards God, another to the Prophet, and others towards his companions; yet others toward the pure ones of the past, your shaykh, your brotherhood, and the two angels on your shoulders who keep account of your deeds.38 And Suhrawardc stated, There are so many regulations, rules, virtues and morals for the man of futuwwat that it is impossible to count them. The reality of these attributes is adopting the character traits of the nature of the Truth, just as the Messenger said: “Adopt the character traits of God.”39

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These comments recommend just as much scrupulosity as anything that appears in Kashifc’s work. Loewen stresses the point on Naqshbandc scrupulosity, and cites the example of khalwat dar anjuman, or “outwardly with people and inwardly with God.” Although it is true that this teaching is generally associated with the Naqshbandcs, in essence, it reflects one of the major elements in the worldview of the Malamatcs, and is therefore evident in the works of other writers on futuwwat, such as Sulamc, who stressed that, You must be very sensitive in following the rules of conduct in making your devotions and prayers to Allah . . . The fine care given to the rules of conduct befitting Allah’s perfect servant should not prevent him from being concerned about and protective of the interests of the public.40 Moreover, Suhrawardc also offered a futuwwat worldview that would not have seemed too out of place for the great Malamatc masters of the ninth and tenth centuries. For example, he observed that the man of futuwwat, basing his behaviour on what might be considered “normative Islam” that is the foundation of interiorised Islam, is concerned with his own spiritual state, which by extension means his own relationship with God, but in so doing he provides an example for other people. It is worth quoting at length his views: Futuwwat is preferring purity and chastity, and being ready for the command of and obedience to the Truth, and not stepping outside of the Holy Law, the Way and the Reality. One should hear and obey the commands of the Truth, fulfil the five prayers according to their allocated times, perform good acts voluntarily and supererogatory acts and fasting, rise up at night [for worship], [for] these are the acts of the jawAnmardAn . . . He commands the good and forbids the evil in accordance with what is required, and he puts in place the necessary commands of the Holy Law, the Way and the Reality. He is constant in his tasks, and does not consider the shortcomings of his Muslim brothers, rather, he reflects on his own [acts], and makes his own conduct a mirror for the world. It is necessary that nothing becomes a veil between himself and the Truth, as ‘Abd al-Rawman ibn rusayn al-Sulamc said, “With regards to futuwwat, [the fatA ] is free from created things and whatever pertains to them in order that he can become a servant to Him who made all the created things.”41 Loewen remarks that the Naqshbandc concern for khalwat dar anjuman reached an extent that at times the Sufis of this order did not recognise other members of the order; however, this is in contrast to Kashifc’s portrayal of the jawAnmard: “He should walk in such a way as to have people notice that he has been in the service of [spiritual] champions.”42 This reflects Suhrawardc’s view that the jawAnmard makes his conduct a mirror for the world. Moreover, the fact that the jawAnmardAn had special forms of clothing (the zCr-i

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jAma, or shilwar) immediately set them at odds with the practice of the Naqshbandc ideal of khalwat dar anjuman (and for that matter, with the practice of the Malamatcs). Still, it is not known if this “uniform” was worn all the time, or if the jawAnmardAn donned the special futuwwat garments just for the ritual initiation and/or on particular occasions or meetings. Another aspect of Naqshbandc doctrine that Loewen compares with ideals found in Kashifc’s Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC is the disdain for excessive ascetic discipline, which meant that Naqshbandc Sufis were expected to be employed in earning their own livelihood. It is problematic to suggest that Kashifc’s endorsement of this principle is due to Naqshbandc influence because it had already been a pillar of futuwwat for hundreds of years. Sulamc was the first in a futuwwat nAma to maintain that you should “not be idle, but [you must] work in this world until you reach the definite state of trust in God,” and he quoted Ibrahcm al-Khawwax who said, It is not right for a Sufi not to work and earn his livelihood unless his situation makes it unnecessary, or he is clearly ordered to abandon worldly work. But if he needs to work and there is no reason for him not to work, he must work. Withdrawing from work is for those who have attained a spiritual level at which they are freed from the necessity of possessions and the following of customs.43 And Suhrawardc also stated that one must work hard to earn a livelihood, and the income from one’s labour is spent on one’s family, the dervishes and those in need.44 The reason for this may be related to his discussion concerning whether the building of khAnaqAhs by princes and rulers for the Sufis was legally permitted. As noted in the previous chapter, Suhrawardc remarked that masters of futuwwat built their own khAnaqAhs,45 and therefore this problem did not arise for them. Likewise, it can be inferred that if a jawAnmard earned his own bread, he would not have to worry if it was WalAl. It is noteworthy that both Suhrawardc and Kashifc narrate the same story about the prophet Seth (although the former’s rendition is more detailed) in which it is stated that in Seth’s time no distinction was made between the spiritual way of Sufism and futuwwat. For this reason Seth is described as employed with worship, but he was also a weaver (of the futuwwat garment) and an agriculturalist.46 Reservations about the Naqshbandc influence upon Kashifc have also been expressed by Munfarid, who argues that despite connections between Kashifc and various Naqshbandc Sufis there is no proof that he was formally connected to this order. Rather, the inclination was merely a general gnostic one, for he was a disciple of neither ‘Ubaydallah Awrar, nor Jamc.47 The conclusions to be drawn from this section help illustrate the continuity of the futuwwat tradition from the eleventh to twelfth centuries down to Kashifc’s era. The significance of ‘Alc should be stressed, as too should certain ethical traits which are not exclusive to the Naqshbandc Sufi tradition.

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Kashifc inherited these and his discussion on these points should not be considered unique. In this respect, his Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC is a good example of cultural continuity from the early to the late medieval period in a region that witnessed the trauma and devastation of the Mongol invasions. The futuwwat tradition in the post-Mongol period manifests a strong continuity towards an ‘Alid form of Islam and it remains relatively silent about Iran’s mythical heroes. Babayan’s theory of cultural continuity is interesting, but her argument about a clash between pre-Islamic and Islamic tropes is difficult to verify, and certainly it is not evident in Kashifc’s writings which were littered with poetical asides that refer to heroes such as Rustam. It may be safer to suggest that the futuwwat tradition did contribute to cultural continuity over a period of roughly four hundred years, and its adherents incorporated a host of tropes from pre-Islamic times that had been resurrected in popular literature whilst promoting a worldview in which they venerated ‘Alc and believed themselves to be based squarely within Islam.

K1shif3’s Futuwwat n!ma-yi Sul)!n# Kashifc was a careful and skilled scholar, and his treatise on futuwwat offers ample testimony to his abilities as a compiler and observer. He did not assimilate everything in an uncritical fashion and then merely regurgitate the texts and traditions of a bygone age. Kashifc attempted to produce as factual and accurate a picture of futuwwat as possible, and such a commitment caused him to doubt certain elements of the inherited traditions. For example, his caution is evident in the following quote relating to ritual girding: The ascription of the chain of girding of the prophets from Adam to Muwammad is not absolutely reliable and credible, but it is more correct than the evidence cited in many essays about futuwwat. This humble person has taken great pains to research many books and treatises to find that which has been recorded herein.48 One of the impressive, scholarly features of Kashifc’s Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC is the style in which it was composed. The work was not addressed specifically to the élite in the court, and it is clear that the author was not concerned to impress his readers with a sophisticated literary style. Instead the work is readable; the prose flows at a rate that can be comprehended by all, as the sentences are neither convoluted nor excessively long. Indeed, the text frequently adopts the form of simple questions and answers, indicating that Kashifc was more concerned with substance rather than style. This is not to say that his target audience or readership had little education, as there are signs that he expected them to be sufficiently learned in Qur’anic Arabic, and also able to appreciate Persian verse. All of this suggests that Kashifc may have been directing his work to several groups including those who were already in the futuwwat organisations (preaching to the converted)

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but who may not have discerned the full influence and range of the futuwwat tradition. At the same time he may also have been directing the message to those outside of the tradition, but who were seeking an accessible way to comprehend futuwwat. The work is divided into seven parts (Kashifc stated that the book would have twelve parts, but the two manuscript copies that have survived have the same seven parts). The contents of these seven parts reveal the intimate connections between futuwwat and Sufism. Part one is a discussion of four darwCshC-related concepts: futuwwat and its courtesies ( futuwwat wa AdAb-i An); the spiritual way (YarCqat); Sufism; and spiritual poverty ( faqr) which is the disposition that spiritual adepts must nurture. Kashifc distinguishes between futuwwat and the spiritual way by clarifying that muruwwat is a part of futuwwat, just as futuwwat is part of the YarCqat,49 and Sufism is a station on the YarCqat.50 In short, Kashifc binds futuwwat squarely within the Sufi tradition, and like his predecessors, argues futuwwat is as a less comprehensive version of spiritual seeking. The second part of the book does not appear specific to the futuwwat tradition, but relates to Sufism in general. The various sections are concerned with the spiritual guide and disciple (e.g. whether the perfect guide is required, the conditions of the shaykh, the courtesies of the pupil (dar YarCq iWtiyAj bi pCr-i kAmil, sharA”iY-i shaykhC; AdAb-i murCd )). Part three is one of the most interesting sections of the book, as it focuses specifically on futuwwat initiation, the different kinds of girding (which suggests the diversity of futuwwat groupings in Timurid society), and the figures of authority (such as the naqCb) within the futuwwat structures, and their functions. Mirroring the previous part, the fourth part concentrates on Sufi apparel, such as the khirqa and the headgear, and serves to highlight the diversity of the Sufi tradition. Placing futuwwat within the tradition of YarCqat, revealing the similarity and differences between futuwwat and the Sufis with regard to their clothing, and presenting discussions on the spiritual guide and pupil and the conduct of the people of the way (part five), in general terms so that the reader assumes that they encompass both futuwwat and Sufi traditions, firmly ties the two traditions together. Although previous writers of futuwwat had already established this linkage, Kashifc was able to strengthen this connection with new information (initiation into the organisations, the clothing worn, etc.), and indeed, the last two parts, six and seven, focus on specific occupations, and are perhaps the most interesting sections of the book. The structure of Kashifc’s work has been studied by Muwammad Ja‘far Mawjeb, who identified three major forms of futuwwat in the treatise.51 The first is a form without any kind of social structure or underpinning – in effect, it is a kind of personal, individual ethical perspective which epitomised the earliest descriptions (that were evident in the writing of Sufis such as Sulamc ). The second form reflects the established social groups and organisations that bear the stamp of institutionalised Sufism, and developed around the concept of futuwwat in Iran after the fall of the ‘Abbasid dynasty.

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The third form of futuwwat is reflected in the occupational associations, and was a form which became manifest in Iran during the Safavid period. Mawjeb does not expand on this taxonomy; however, it is a useful method to highlight the significance of the Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC, and so the following section will focus on these three points. The personal, individual ethic The debt to the Sufi tradition is clear in this very first classification, especially in the early parts of the book which focus on general Sufi concepts, such as the courtesies of futuwwat, and in the second chapter of part one in which the maqAms, practices and prohibitions of the way (YarCqat) are discussed, and in chapter three of part one which focuses on the rules and principles of Sufism. This ethical perspective forms the core of Kashifc’s work, which is relatively free of the metaphysical and “philosophical” speculation on the nature of existence or quiddity or “mystical” visions that are found in the works of Sufis such as Ibn ‘Arabc. There are some theoretical metaphysical elements to be sure, but these are not developed and elaborated upon; rather, Kashifc merely paraphrases the writings of previous masters of futuwwat. One striking example is his discussion concerning the nature of futuwwat in terms of a return of the soul to God in the pure human nature, fiYrat-i insAnC (based on the Qur’an, 30.30), in which it had originally been created.52 And here a link is made by Kashifc with the primordial covenant (Qur’an, 7.172).53 It is not necessary to elaborate on the personal ethic here, as Kashifc’s work does not differ in this respect from the writings of Sulamc or Suhrawardc which have already been discussed. Before proceeding with the social forms of futuwwat, one last point of discussion under the rubric of the personal, individual ethic is the stress that all writers on futuwwat place on the “Islamicity” of the concept, and finding the roots of such a personal ethic within the Qur’an. As a systematic compiler it is not surprising that Kashifc defined his terms and located them within the Qur’an. He was not the first to methodically investigate futuwwat through the term fatA, which appears four times in Qur’anic narratives, because this had already been undertaken by the author of the Futuwwat nAma-yi MCrzA “Abd al-“AZCm KhAn QarCb, which most likely pre-dates Kashifc’s work. Perhaps it was Kashifc’s methodological thoroughness in defining terms rather than any lingering doubt concerning the legitimate authenticity of futuwwat’s Islamic nature that caused him to include this discussion. The social forms of futuwwat Based on statements from futuwwat nAmas prior to Kashifc’s work, it appears that futuwwat seems to have been a less arduous form of Sufism. Suhrawardc’s RisAlat al-futuwwat contains the following account of the origins of futuwwat (which Kashifc paraphrases54):

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Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism In [the prophet] Seth’s time, there was no difference between the YarCqat and futuwwat. Futuwwat was [the same as] YarCqat and YarCqat was futuwwat until the time of Ibrahcm, when the bewildered ones, lovers and those yearning for God came to him and said, “O Prophet of God! We want to move freely among the people, but we cannot bear the weight of the Sufi cloak (khirqa) since we are weak, just as the Most High said, ‘Man was created weak’ [4.28]. Establish a YarCqat so that we may also find some share in the benefits of those men, for we are [also] yearning for God.” Ibrahcm swam in the ocean of the YarCqat and found the island of futuwwat there. He settled a group of bewildered ones in the boat of the sharC“at and rowed in the ocean of YarCqat until he reached the island of futuwwat.55

Kashifc expresses a similar sentiment in the following: If it is asked that since [ futuwwat] is the root of the way (aXl-i YarCqat), then why is this knowledge called the knowledge of futuwwat and not YarCqat? Say it is because not everyone has the power to endure the YarCqat, for the YarCqat means following in the footsteps of his excellency Muxyafa [Muwammad] (peace and blessings be upon him) and Murtava [‘Alc ] (peace be upon him). Who is able to do this except the immaculate children? . . . But he who strives according to his aspiration and strength will benefit from futuwwat and will be remembered in the discussions on futuwwat as being like a candle.56 Although the above quotation probably refers to the Imams, there is clearly a hierarchy of spiritual endeavour for individuals after the Imams. This is indicated by the fact that Kashifc subsequently included a chapter on the YarCqat in which the individual who perfects the YarCqat “is worthy of teaching the way, and for placing his feet on the prayer mat of shaykh-hood (shaykhC ).”57 The belief that futuwwat was a less arduous form of Sufism is supported by the lack of anything intellectually taxing, philosophically or theologically. That is to say, as mentioned above, futuwwat was not concerned with the kind of abstract theoretical speculations on mystical and ontological issues that occupied the minds of Sufis who were attracted to the teaching of Sufis such as Ibn ‘Arabc.58 An example of Kashifc’s refusal to engage in such topics occurs in part five, “Concerning the rules of conduct of the people of the way,” when in a discussion of the courtesies of travelling (AdAb-i safar) he briefly discusses the kinds of spiritual journey (safar-i ma“nawC ). He mentions four journeys: the journey to God; the journey in God; the journey with God; and the journey with God in God. Kashifc then says, “a discussion of each of these journeys is not appropriate to this compendium.”59 (These are the four journeys that were made famous at a later date by the great philosopher/metaphysician Mulla sadra.)

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The medieval period witnessed a form of futuwwat which mirrored many of Sufism’s social forms, rituals60 (especially those concerning initiation) and structures. The social forms of futuwwat which resemble those of Sufism took place within the particular buildings for the brothers (mention has already been made of Suhrawardc’s remark about the masters of futuwwat building their own khAnaqAhs, in contrast to the Sufis, and also the passages in the Futuwwat nAma-yi NAXirC ). Unfortunately Kashifc does not mention the futuwwat khAna. One area in which he does provide much information about the association concerns the differentiation of belts, or sashes (shadd ), among the various groups. Although Kashifc described these different belts it is difficult to imagine their shape, even with the illustrations published in Mawjeb’s edition of the text.61 Fortunately, Golpinarli has reproduced some images that appear in a futuwwat nAma dated 1806 (see Figures 4.1 and 4.2).62 The names given to these belts are the same as those that appear in Kashifc’s work, which also states that each form of tie is specific to a particular occupation. What is interesting here is the probability of different sectors of Islamic society, ranging from the élite to the lowest social groups, participating in

Figure 4.1 Names of the belts: top right to left: qawsC, miWrAbC, sulCmAnC. Bottom, right to left: alifC, chEgAnC or makhfC, yEsufC, lAm alifC.

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Figure 4.2 Names of the ties: top from right to left: miWrAbC, alifC, sulCmAnC. Bottom, right to left: yEsufC, lAm alif, qawsC.

rituals in which there existed forms of social levelling. Of course, Islam performed this function too, in the respect that all individuals are equal before God, and blood or tribal ties should not be considered important factors in determining spiritual benefits. However, in practice, it is likely that the ideals of Islam became somewhat blurred, and social distinctions, based on profession or kinship, assumed varying degrees of significance. Since the futuwwat belts were specific to professions and trades, it may be argued that the social levelling may not have been pronounced, as distinctions were most likely maintained. Kashifc pointed out that the alif shadd was for the eulogisers; the lAm alif shadd was designated for the general masses (“Amm); the mim shadd was for the people of wisdom and knowledge, such as physicians; the madd shadd was particularly for the people (although Kashifc did not indicate which kind of people); the miWrAbC shadd was for the water carriers; the sayfC shadd was designated for soldiers and rulers; the qawsC shadd was reserved for those whose tools had a handgrip; the sulCmAnC shadd was for servants and messengers; the yEsufC shadd was designated for those associated with stitching and making leashes; the secret shadd was known by the naqCb, and whoever was worthy of receiving it.63 So there was clear differentiation (and perhaps hierarchy and esteem) within the overall unifying structure of the futuwwat organisation. The unifying element was made visible even on the belt itself, as the illustrations reveal that each had three knots, which were tied in the name of ‘Alc (shah-i mardAn), the master (ustAd ), and to oneself.64 Thus the unifying element particular to the

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futuwwat movement in general is the figure of ‘Alc, while the more localised feature of sodality is represented by one’s master, and the individual commitment is maintained by knotting oneself into a sacred trinity. In a way, these belts and knots reflect the observation made by Mawjeb concerning the tripartite structure of Kashifc’s book: personal individual ethics (the knot in one’s own name); social forms of futuwwat (represented by one’s master); and the occupational associations (see below) which were manifested in the shadd itself. The ritual bestowal of the shadd, and the occasions when it was worn, must have served to nurture sentiments of solidarity among the group at a universal (Islamic) level and also at a more regional level too. To an extent the distinction between universal (Islamic) and regional may be somewhat arbitrary, especially when the two fused with the significance of ‘Alc in the futuwwat tradition, and the establishment of Shc‘ism as the official religion of Iran under the Safavids. Nevertheless, the importance of the localised identity of the futuwwat tradition in cultural continuity and change should not be overlooked. This can be studied with reference to the silsilas of the futuwwat organisations. In the previous chapter it was argued that the silsila, or spiritual genealogy, was a well known feature of the Sufi YarCqas, which linked the living member of the order with past masters. Just as the Sufis most likely adopted and developed the concept of the silsila from isnAds of WadCth, the futuwwat organisations likewise had their own silsilas that served to Islamicise their existence, and create networks of identity and meaning that not only encompassed the localised following that gave the organisation its distinctive colouring, but also stretched back to include Sufi masters, and on occasions the Shc‘ite Imams, the companions of the Prophet, and Muwammad himself. The localised nature of futuwwat was recognised by Kashifc in his portrayal of the various geographical regions and the initiations through different masters. From ‘Alc futuwwat was passed on to various individuals, but four are important in regard to geographical location: Salman who spread it to Ctesiphon, and the line of Salman was popular in Transoxiana, Khurasan, Tabaristan, ‘Ajam and Iraq; Dawud the Egyptian, whose line was spread throughout Alexandria and Aleppo; Suhayl, who was sent to Byzantium, and this line became popular in North Africa and Azerbaijan; and Abe ’l-Miwjan, who was sent to Yemen and whose line became popular among the Indians and the peoples of the Chinese frontier.65 In addition to this regionalisation of futuwwat, Kashifc’s own silsilas are revealing for the importance of localisation and identity. He offers three silsilas, the first of which is the silsila of the spiritual guide (which appears to be his Sufi silsila).66 The second silsila is Kashifc’s lineage of the father of the covenant, and in this silsila there are several eulogisers, but no figures of outstanding fame except for Shaykh Muxliw al-dcn Sa‘dc of Shiraz.67 Sa‘dc is of course the celebrated author of the GulistAn and BEstAn, and his presence in the lineage must have been a great source of pride and distinction among the members, further fostering

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sentiments of sodality. One wonders whether the brothers would have recited passages from Sa‘dc’s writings when they assembled for their meetings. The third silsila is Kashifc’s lineage for the master of girding, but here there are no individuals of outstanding fame; but this is not to say that their endeavours in futuwwat or behaviour were unknown to the members, for it is likely that they too served as models for perfect behaviour. The occupational associations The section above has discussed the linkage of futuwwat with certain professions, and the most distinguishing feature of Kashifc’s work is that it is one of the first accounts that explicitly links futuwwat as a social organisation with crafts, although links between the two have been suggested at a much earlier stage in Iranian history.68 From the Sufi perspective, the connection between futuwwat and occupational associations is of interest because of the theoretical tensions that plagued earlier manifestations of Sufism about the permissibility of Sufis becoming engaged in full-time employment. Some of the early Sufi masters of the “Iraq-oriented” Sufis “generally maintained a thorough distrust of earning a living,”69 whereas the Malamatcs associated freely with the people of the bazaar in an attempt to “lose” themselves and be considered “normal” people as opposed to becoming recognised as Sufis and therefore open to a different kind of treatment. From a relatively early period, then, there appears to be some connection between forms of spirituality and crafts, although the evidence is far from clear. In the “formative period” of Sufism, there were some eminent Sufis who continued to doubt the spiritual value of certain occupations, at least. The Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC is composed of seven parts,70 the final two of which are both concerned with explaining aspects of jawanmardC that pertain to individuals in occupations “on the field of trial” (part six) and “those using handgrips” (part seven). In effect, parts six and seven focus on certain sectors of society that are engaged in various aspects of work, some manual, others what might be termed entertainment and worship. Perhaps the plan for parts eight to twelve included other occupations, but unfortunately Kashifc left no indication of the contents of the “missing” parts. The professions on the field of trial (ma“araka) include the orators (ahl-i sukhan) who enjoy the highest standing among the adherents of futuwwat, the strongmen (ahl-i zEr) and the players (ahl-i bAzC ). The orators are the eulogisers who recite poetry, or who recite poetry and versified stories of miracles and virtues, and those who recite prose and poetry mixed together. Also included within the eulogisers are the water bearers, hawkers and vendors, storytellers and fabulists. The strongmen are composed of the wrestlers, the dumbbell lifters, hod carriers, basket carriers, porters, mace wielders, rope dancers and strong men. The players are composed of jugglers, puppeteers and conjurors. Within this category of individuals on the field of trial, Kashifc included a wide variety of occupations that pertain largely to what

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might be considered by contemporary standards the more manual and less economically sound workers in society. However, as Keyvani has indicated, the distinction between high and low occupations “depended to a great extent on the religious and moral qualities which Islamic laws and traditions ascribed to its trades and occupations.”71 Nevertheless, however pious and upright the performers may have been, another criterion for social status and esteem among the occupations was the degree of skill and length of experience required. Those on the field of trial arguably needed a shorter period of training than physicians, druggists, glass makers, gilders and calligraphers.72 Part seven, which discusses those involved in occupations that use handgrips, includes twenty-three categories of those who use hand implements (sword, shield, mace [soldiers]; the mallet [servants]; knife, cleaver, goods knife, hatchet [flayers and butchers]; spade, plough [villagers and champions]; trowel [builders]; sickle [reapers]; a smith’s hammer; the blacksmith’s sledgehammer; saw [hewers and sawyers]; carding bow [carders and fullers]; a fuller’s beetle [washermen and dyers]; mallet [anglers and stitchers]; iron [tailors and capmakers]; ladle [sweetmakers and confectioners]; yoke [faggot carriers]; pickaxe [well-diggers]. As noted above, Kashifc himself left no indication about the contents of parts eight to twelve in his treatise. It is possible that the subsequent chapters would have included similar discussions about the other occupations, and it is possible to speculate that the composition and make-up of the occupations would have been similar to that discussed by Keyvani in his analysis of occupational associations in seventeenth- to eighteenth-century Isfahan. Keyvani identified three lists, the first of which paid tax to the central government and included professions that were well considered (goldsmiths, book binders, money changers, physicians, brocade weavers, tailors, weavers, carpenters). The second list consisted of occupations that were regarded as low in status and included washermen, camel drivers, bath-keepers, porters, brick makers, fortune tellers, barbers, hunters, and runners. The third list included professions that were not subject to the normal kind of tax, and many were not respectable under Islamic law (and these include the “show men” (or orators), wrestlers, jugglers, storytellers, acrobats, and beggars, that is, many of the occupations that Kashifc included in the sixth part of his Futuwwat nAma). A pertinent question to ask at this juncture is whether all the members of these occupations would have been ritually initiated into the futuwwat organisations. If the answer is affirmative then the extent of the influence and power of this organisation (and by extension Sufi worldviews) would have been incredibly pervasive. There is no explicit mention within Kashifc’s work that all members had to become initiated into the futuwwat organisations. However, there are indications that it is likely that this was indeed the case. Kashifc discussed the process of initiation, which included the role of the naqCb, who tests the words and deeds of the members to make sure they are credit-worthy.73 Unfortunately there is little more specific information

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aside from the fact that the naqCb was present at the actual initiation of aspiring members.74 According to a Safavid treatise, the naqCb was responsible for the “supervision of custom and ritual, surveillance of the moral behaviour of members, enforcement of the rules governing the induction of novices and their apprenticeship to masters, [and] guardianship of traditions concerning a craft’s original patron saints.”75 Moral behaviour, patron saints, and initiation all resemble the ideals and rituals portrayed by Kashifc, and therefore it is highly probable that membership in the futuwwat organisation was part of the process of becoming a fully fledged member of a certain occupation. Although Kashifc considered futuwwat to be a part of Sufism, the morals that were expected of an initiate were those that were to be expected of any pious Muslim. For example, in the chapter “concerning the meaning of the field of trial and what pertains to that” there is no trace of anything overtly mystical or metaphysical. Instead there are lists of what might be considered correct courtesy (AdAb) and an interiorised or spiritual dimension of AdAb before God. This combination of exterior and interior courtesies is reflected in five attributes that compose the perfection of the competitor: First, his belief must be pure . . . Second, he must not be jealous or compete with his brother Muslim out of jealousy. Third, he must trust [in God] . . . Fourth, he must not have any malice and hypocrisy since his words may affect the hearts [of the listeners]. Fifth, he should not be vain and proud, instead he should be humble.76 From such a perspective it is clear that individual pietistic ethics were fully integrated into the social organisation of futuwwat in the form of the occupational association; it would be incorrect to consider Mawjeb’s three categories as being mutually exclusive. In the state that it has been preserved, the Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC is not exhaustive as the final parts are absent, yet, despite this, the work is a clear testimony to the spread of Sufi-influenced ritual and practice into Timurid society. The abundance of similar artisanal futuwwat nAmas in the Safavid period testifies to the strength and importance of these institutions. The ties that the Safavid state established in its attempts at control (possibly control over the form of Sufism) have been well documented by Keyvani (and will be discussed further in the next chapter), although it is unclear whether the Timurid authorities exercised similar methods of control.

Futuwwat and K1shif3’s Ris!la-yi ^!timiya Kashifc’s Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC served very much as a manual, and the simple literary style, such as the question and answer format that he frequently

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adopted, meant that this was not a work to be read for amusement or pleasure. Futuwwat was a serious business, and Kashifc composed this didactic work for the benefit of those who wished to tread the path among the tradespeople, artisans, and even among the less well educated members of society who, if they were illiterate, would have had the futuwwat nAma read to them. Yet Kashifc wrote a shorter work on the subject of futuwwat for a very sophisticated audience, and which was completely different in form. This short work was entitled RisAla-yi RAtimiya, and it straddled several genres, and in so doing promoted the ethical dimension of futuwwat. The RisAla-yi RAtimiya is a biography of ratim ta’c, a pre-Islamic, Arab dignitary who was famous for his generosity. The subject matter of this work is rather unusual because most literary works of “non-fiction” focus on individuals from the Islamic period onwards. If not detailing the circumstances of the prophet or his companions, biographies recounted the lives of famous Sufis, such as the YabaqAt literature (epitomised by the writings of Sulamc, Anxarc and Jamc).77 The life of a single Sufi had also been recorded in books, such as works about Abe Sa‘cd or Mawlana.78 A biography (however anecdotal) of a pre-Islamic, Arab individual was indeed unusual. Kashifc stated that he was requested to compose the work by the ruler of Herat, Sultan rusayn Bayqara, which suggests that either ratim ta’c or the ethic of futuwwat was the topic of much discussion and deliberation at the time. The request coming from an erudite ruler such as rusayn Bayqara meant that Kashifc was able to compose a work very different in form from his manual on futuwwat. In contrast to the rather dry, factual text of the Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC, the RisAla-yi RAtimiya permitted Kashifc to reveal his literary talents and conceits. Although the contents of the latter treatise were culled from prior writings, Kashifc was able to put his stamp on the work by arranging the episodes in a chronological frame, by including almost as much Persian poetry as prose, and by writing in a highly sophisticated style that was directed at the tastes of the Timurid court. (The Persian element is significant because it continued the trend of the Timurid court of writing scholarly works in Turkish and Persian at the expense of Arabic. The nature of these works shows that the aim was not to belittle Islam, but perhaps it was a manifestation of a greater degree of confidence in the local culture.)79 Moreover, Kashifc did not merely stitch together every story about ratim ta’c that he had at his disposal, for there are several episodes from the AghAnC that are not included in the RisAla-yi Ratimiya. Although the text describes a series of events in the life of a pre-Islamic Arab, it is not surprising that, as a devout Muslim, Kashifc included a few Qur’anic ayas to strengthen the moral in the story (and perhaps to manifest his own erudition). However, the treatise is relatively free from Qur’anic and WadCth references, which may reflect the fact that “the immoderate use of Arabic citations was out of fashion at the time.”80 There are many words of Arabic origin in the treatise (which is perhaps inevitable in Persian), yet it seems that Kashifc preferred certain Persian words, such as jawAnmardC

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(or jawAnmard ), which is used on nineteen occasions, rather than futuwwat or fatA, which is used on just four. Literary style is of course at the mercy of fashion, and Kashifc suffered rather unfavourably in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries at the hands of Western critics. E.G. Browne did not hide his sentiments about Kashifc’s literary style: “recondite words, vain epithets, far-fetched comparisons and tasteless bombast.”81 The RisAla-yi RAtimiya does indeed seem a rather wordy, contrived text, but it is not without its merits. The following are examples of Kashifc’s style: “The sea of his pearl giving palm embarrassed the generous hands of the clouds in bestowing gifts, and his universal generosity humiliated the light-giving sun in extending benevolence”; “ratim had a horse, fleet as the wind, that could cover long distances, fly far like an arrow [shot] from a bow that passes quickly like a precious life. . . .” Such sentences stand in stark contrast to the dry, didactic prose of the Futuwwat nAma. Yet the stories and anecdotes related to ratim ta’c are rather short and relatively numerous, and this contributes to the flow of the text, as it is unlikely that the reader would become lost or bogged down in the prose. In fact, the treatise extends to only twenty-eight pages in the edition provided by Schaefer.82 Modern literary concerns are not the topic of this chapter; it is more relevant to consider how the text would have been received in Kashifc’s own lifetime and in the Safavid period. It is most likely the case that, as an educated and accepted member of the literary élite, Kashifc wrote this work in a manner that he believed would be appropriate and well received by his audience and readership, thereby extending the message of futuwwat into courtly circles. Kashifc selected his sources judiciously and compiled a chronological account of the life of ratim ta’c that served to foreground the attributes of generosity, munificence and jawAnmardC. In fact, this foregrounding of futuwwat on a chronological pattern meant that the author selected stories about ratim ta’c in which he behaved as the perfect example of futuwwat at all ages, even as a baby, and miraculously after his death. This presentation of ratim ta’c does not reveal a fully rounded figure, with all the human frailties that one might expect in a contemporary literary work. Yet Kashifc’s depiction of ratim ta’c was not intended to illustrate a “real” human; in a way the RisAla-yi RAtimiya functions more as both a hagiography, and a didactic treatise to encourage the practice of futuwwat. ratim ta’c was a historical figure who lived in the second half of the sixth century83 and died, according to Kashifc, in the seventh year after the birth of the prophet Muwammad (in 579 CE). Both he and his son ‘Adc were Christians, although the latter converted to Islam.84 What is known of ratim ta’c and his son ‘Adc comes from early Islamic sources, including the Book of One Thousand and One Nights and Abe al-Faraj Isfahanc’s KitAb al-AghAnC.85 His life of generosity was no doubt embellished by poets and storytellers, so that Kashifc had plenty of material to compose his short

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treatise. Amanat has remarked that Kashifc had “great expertise in rendering, revising, compiling and popularizing a wide range of Persian classical texts.”86 This comment is applicable to his treatise on ratim ta’c, for his main sources include Sa‘dc’s BEstAn,87 and Awfc’s JawAmi“ al-WikAyAt wa lawAmi“ al-riwAyAt.88 As mentioned above, Kashifc did not include every anecdote about ratim ta’c in his work. Indeed, two of the most significant episodes are omitted, which he could have worked into his biography rather easily, as both reveal ratim commitment to generosity. The first concerns the abandonment of ratim by his father (which was mentioned in Chapter 1). The second is another abandonment story, but this time in the form of a divorce by his second wife, Mawiya. This divorce was the result of Mawiya despairing at her husband’s generosity, which she felt would eventually leave nothing for her and the children. As a result Mawiya divorced ratim and married his cousin, Malik. ratim’s response to this is worth citing here: Many a gossip whispers blame at night When [the star of ] “Ayyuq hides the [star of ] Thurayya and sets, She blames my giving wealth wrongly. When the stingy hold to riches tightly She says “Why not keep it for I See wealth with the stingy put to use.” Leave me, go, your wealth plenty Every man follows what he is used to. O blamer! I’ll not stop except as need Don’t put your tongue on me like a rasp.89 The association Kashifc made between futuwwat and ratim ta’c was not arbitrary, as a long tradition had linked the two together. It is not surprising that ratim ta’c appears in treatises related to futuwwat prior to Kashifc, such as the Futuwwat nAma-yi NAXirC which includes eleven couplets in a single anecdote in which ratim commanded his servant boys to take camels loaded with walnuts into the desert, and to scatter the walnuts wherever they saw any habitation. For an hour at least, says ratim, the ants will be his guest.90 The text that has been edited by Schaefer assists the reader only to a limited extent. In addition to a few marks to identify couplets, quatrains and other forms of poetry, there are a few signs to identify the end of a particular story. However, it is possible to divide the text into four main groups (this taxonomy is not Kashifc’s but it is used here to summarise the main features of the treatise). In the first group, after an introduction in which the author explains his reason for composing the treatise and then lauding rusayn Bayqara,91 Kashifc illustrates the nature of futuwwat through some anecdotes about ratim ta’c’s infancy and marriage. He then proceeds to recount three episodes that feature rulers or kings.92 Since rusayn Bayqara

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had requested the composition of the treatise one wonders whether Kashifc deliberately located these stories at the start of the text to attract the ruler’s attention. In the first story, the ruler manifests his wisdom in employing clemency and magnanimity to capture the loyalty of one of his generals who had aroused the suspicion of the other members of the court. The king considered that “the chains of kindness and benevolence” would fasten his general more than would punishing and chastising him. In the second story (derived from Sa‘dc’s BEstAn), Heraclius, the Byzantine Emperor, wanted to test ratim ta’c’s futuwwat by requesting a gift of a particular horse. When his envoy arrived at his destination, the inclement weather prevented ratim from selecting an appropriate animal to serve his guest, so he sacrificed the first thing that came to hand, which happened to be the horse. So the envoy was sent back to the king with many other horses and gifts instead, and the king realised the nature of ratim’s futuwwat. In the third story (also from Sa‘dc BEstAn), the King of Yemen desired to be remembered for futuwwat yet his good acts were always compared to those of ratim, which only increased his jealousy. So the king decided to send out a bandit to kill his rival in futuwwat. On reaching the vicinity of ratim’s residency, the bandit was given shelter by a courteous young man (who turned out to be ratim). The bandit was received with hospitality and treated to a sumptuous meal, and the two became good friends in the course of the night. Eventually the bandit revealed the nature of his mission to the young man, who instantly declared that he was ratim, and he offered his life to the bandit. On hearing this, the bandit fled back to the King of Yemen who recognised that ratim’s kindness could not be matched. Following these three stories that make up the first group, the second group contains four episodes that illustrate the importance of generosity within the tradition of futuwwat.93 These involve ratim bestowing his wealth and/or possessions upon the poor or unfortunate. One episode is particularly interesting for it suggests that ratim acted not so much to alleviate the burdens of the destitute but rather to lessen the accusations of a blaming soul. In this particular episode a bedouin came to ask for a bag of flour from ratim but received a sack of gold, and a camel by which he could return home. On being questioned about the wisdom of such generosity, ratim replied: If the beggar requests something appropriate to his state What I give shows my magnanimity. I don’t pay attention to the humble beggar. I pay attention to my generosity. Such a reflection bears the hallmarks of the introspective perspective of the Malamatcs. (It is interesting to speculate that the Malamatc tradition which was absorbed by the Sufi movement may have influenced the latter in the Persian-speaking world to the extent that it became responsive to such stories and self-reflection.)

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Following these episodes that portray the nature of generosity, in the third group Kashifc illustrated the wisdom in ratim’s futuwwat in several short passages, the real message of which extended beyond the acceptance of being generous and kind to the poor.94 Once again an introspective element is present, reminiscent of the Malamatc tradition. Kashifc has ratim reflect in the following manner: I have never made a beggar feel indebted by a gift, rather I have felt indebted, and I have asked forgiveness. I have deliberated that if the duty to give alms is incumbent on me, then my duty to give alms must be evident for the beggar. He has begged for something from me because he has a good opinion of me and thinks I am worthy. The duty of honouring someone is greater than the duty of giving alms. So his duty takes precedence over mine, and his duty of honouring me should not be lessened through service.95 The fourth group contains episodes that illustrate ratim’s humility in futuwwat.96 This reaches a degree that he admits that he has known others who have been more generous than he has been, including an old bedouin woman and her son, who sacrificed their only sheep to feed ratim, and used two wooden spears for firewood to cook the meat. These were their only possessions, and they refused any kind of recompense from ratim who insisted that he would return their hospitality should they visit his dwelling. In general the focus of the RisAla-yi RAtimiya is very much devoted to personal ethics, and in this respect it serves not necessarily to contrast with his Futuwwat nAma, but to complement it. Of course, the nature of the work, a biography of the pre-Islamic Arab ratim ta’c, meant that Kashifc would have had to be historically blind had he attempted to clothe ratim in the institutionalised form of futuwwat that existed in the Timurid period. In Kashifc’s RisAla-yi RAtimiya there are no associations made with initiation, special clothing, or special forms of behaviour (in terms of the hierarchical structures that he portrayed in his Futuwwat nAma). This point is interesting, especially in the light of the various futuwwat nAmas (such as Suhrawardc’s and Kashifc’s own) that witness an essentialised version of futuwwat in pre-Islamic times and which attribute prophets such as Adam and Seth with special clothing (i.e. precursors of the khirqa for Sufis and the sarAwCl for the jawAnmardAn), or which discuss prophets creating the Way (YarCqat) which is essential for the people of futuwwat and muruwwat. It may be the case that Kashifc felt too bound by his sources on ratim ta’c to transform him into a creator of institutionalised futuwwat in pre-Islamic Arabia. Indeed, in some ways this would have belittled the role of the great prophet of Islam whom the authors had encompass institutionalised futuwwat in his own lifetime (numerous futuwwat nAmas describe the prophet initiating his companions into futuwwat).

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The personal ethics in the RisAla-yi RAtimiya feature a couple of issues which warrant further discussion, especially as they help to illuminate the nature of futuwwat and Sufism in the Persian medieval tradition. The first of these concerns gender, for Kashifc’s writings on futuwwat tend to be a male preserve, yet women feature quite prominently in his RisAla-yi RAtimiya. There are two relatively lengthy stories, one near the start of the book, and the other towards the end (serving to frame the main components of the treatise), in which ratim is not the lead character; rather, this role is reserved for his wife in the first of these two stories and his mother in the second. In the first, Mawiya received three suitors whose generosity and kindness she tested by begging while disguised as a poor woman. Each of the three suitors gave varying portions of camel that she had previously bestowed upon them when they had arrived at her residence. The next day, in a formal setting where food was to be served, Mawiya, in her “normal” clothes, presented each suitor with the portions of camel that they had given in alms to the “poor beggar woman” the night before. Two of the suitors who had been parsimonious lost face completely, and made a rapid departure. The third suitor (ratim) had given Mawiya generous amounts of camel meat, and therefore he proved to be the successful suitor. This episode involving Mawiya depicts her as an intelligent and shrewd character. Yet her method of discovering which of the suitors possessed the superior degree of futuwwat results in two of her suitors/guests having to leave in embarrassment and lose face. It is perhaps pertinent to point out that in all the episodes in which ratim features as the protagonist, never do his rivals or enemies suffer similar degrees of public shame or humiliation. Rather, ratim attempted to place himself beneath those who approached him (whether to ask for alms or to kill him), and of course there is always a resolution to the problem which satisfies all parties. The second of the two episodes occurs after ratim’s death, when his brother was chosen to succeed him. Their mother recognised that ratim’s brother did not have the qualities of futuwwat worthy to succeed him. To prove this she started to beg in disguise from each of the forty windows at ratim’s palace. After she had received alms from the first three windows, ratim’s brother lost his patience and castigated the old woman, who then revealed her true identity, remarking that she had begged in the same fashion when ratim was alive, and he had given her more alms at each window. In these two episodes featuring ratim’s wife and mother, women are portrayed as strong-minded characters, yet their behaviour runs contrary to one of the essential features of futuwwat. Writers of treatises on futuwwat adopted the habit of listing numerous attributes that were considered essential on the path, and inevitably some of these did not sit well with each other. For example, Kashifc listed forty-eight conditions for futuwwat, which included dispensing justice, observance of neighbours’ rights, and commanding the good and prohibiting evil, all of which promoted an actively engaged social perspective.97 In contrast, he also listed six inner principles

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of futuwwat which nurtured a more introverted dimension of futuwwat: the second principle was humility, that is, to consider everyone as better than oneself and to behave modestly with others; the fourth principle was forgiveness and good will, and to be kind to people and overlook their transgressions. Aside from Mawiya and ratim’s mother, there are a number of other strong-minded women in the RisAla-yi RAtimiya, including the old bedouin woman who refused to visit ratim’s residence to receive recompense for her hospitality. Another is ratim’s daughter, who was captured and taken before Muwammad, but spoke bravely and reminded him that he would be remembered well if he let her free. All of the women in the RisAla-yi RAtimiya appear in a positive fashion, yet their acts lack the underlying humility and understatement present in ratim’s behaviour. To what extent these women reflect the situation and the attitudes of the women in Kashifc’s own life is unclear, as he may merely have been conveying the stories about ratim that were being related during the Timurid period. On the other hand, Kashifc must have had a wealth of stories from which to choose, which suggests that he bears responsibility for his presentation of women in the RisAla-yi RAtimiya. Associating women with futuwwat is not surprising, as Persian literature and Sufi writings indicate that gender was certainly not a restriction in the tradition. From the earliest period of recorded Sufi history, Sulamc describes a number of female ascetics with the attribute of futuwwat, or at least he talks about the topic as if they were authorities.98 The Persian romance literature (such as Samak-i “AyyAr99), with which individuals such as Kashifc and those associated with Sufi-style futuwwat would most likely have been familiar, strengthens the association of futuwwat and women. Yet there are some works on futuwwat that deny access to women (as shown in the previous chapter). The extent to which Kashifc’s perspective on gender reflected the general Sufi attitude in the Timurid era requires more research. However, it is relatively easy to find earlier sources which provide a positive gender perspective, such as that provided by Ibn ‘Arabi who idealised the divine feminine over and above the male,100 yet it is equally easy to find restrictive gender views within the Sufi tradition.101 Even if women were not permitted into the social structures and occupational associations of futuwwat (Ibn Bayyeya’s travelogues do not mention any women among the futuwwat organisations that he visited, and Kashifc’s Futuwwat nAma does not refer to any female involvement in the organisations), the RisAla-yi RAtimiya presented women as capable of displaying their own perfection through spiritual futuwwat, a method that is largely reflected in the Sufi movement. The RisAla-yi RAtimiya should be considered as a text that universalises futuwwat, for in addition to encompassing women the ethics of futuwwat apply to old and young, rich and poor, king and servant. Focusing on gender may be one method to distinguish between futuwwat and Sufism; and the second topic present within the RisAla-yi RAtimiya which may assist in making a distinction between the two is related to boasting.

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Within Kashifc’s RisAla-yi RAtimiya there are several references to the aim of promoting one’s name. For example, Kashifc quotes Sa‘dc who has ratim say, “I want my name spread throughout this realm”;102 in another place we read, “From jawAnmardC is derived any happiness that comes to you and whatever happiness you desire such as fame, wealth, fortune, felicity, a good recollection and a good name.”103 Of course it is possible that Kashifc’s treatise reflects the contents of the anecdotes and stories that he inherited, which may have retained a certain pre-Islamic, Arab flavour. One of the distinguishing features of the pre-Islamic, Arabian worldview was the importance of one’s clan and tribe, and so the good acts of the individual benefited the larger social unit. That Kashifc did not airbrush away this aspect of futuwwat may not just be because he was being faithful to his sources. It is possible that, as a less intense form of Sufism, futuwwat was a method that permitted a greater degree of individuality, or, in other words, it was not necessary to lose the self to the same extent that many Sufis thought was essential. An example of Sufi abhorrence of fame is found in the writings of the thirteenthcentury Sufi, ‘Azcz Nasafc, who cautioned: O dervish! There is one great idol and the rest are smaller idols. The smaller idols originate from the great idol. For some the great idol is wealth and for others it is fame, and for yet others it is being loved by the people. The greatest of these is being loved by the people, and fame is greater than wealth.104 Certainly it is unimaginable that Sufis inspired by the Malamatc tradition would have even considered engaging in acts of altruism and futuwwat to earn a good reputation. However, Sufism is wider than the Malamatc tradition, and there are cases within the Sufi tradition that approximate the form of futuwwat found in the RisAla-yi RAtimiya that endorses the quest for fame. Within Sufism the practice of spiritual boasting is well known;105 perhaps one of the most extravagant boasters was the poet Farcd al-dcn ‘Ayyar (d. 1220) who predicted “my verses are going to shine forever . . . the great ones who dwell in the seven heavens will read the IlAhC nAma of ‘Ayyar. Because of this book’s glory I have kingship.”106 The justification from those who endorse the spiritual message is that such boasting was “not a personal expression, but a formal and stylized ritual in which divine inspiration revealed itself by boasting.”107 Sufi boasting was not limited to poetry; however, there is a difference between the Sufi boasting and the desire for fame and reputation within futuwwat. While the idealist Sufi argument is that the boasting comes through God, or is designed to reflect his glory, in the futuwwat tradition, at least in the RisAla-yi RAtimiya, no such explicit or implicit arguments are made. From an analysis of Kashifc ’s two texts, the differences between Sufism and futuwwat are not profoundly distinct. While he repeats Suhrawardc’s claim, paraphrased by Hodgson, that futuwwat is “a sort of lesser Sufi way,” Kashifc ’s works do not really distinguish between the two. Kashifc depicts

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an urban form of futuwwat, as he describes numerous trades and occupations which must have been carried out in an urban setting, where following a “full-time” Sufi path must have been very difficult. In addition, there are none of the metaphysical discussions that were so popular among the circles of followers of the school of the “unity of existence.” If this makes futuwwat a “lesser Sufi way” then Hodgson’s description can be applied to Kashifc’s futuwwat. The institutionalised forms of futuwwat may have been more restrictive than those of Sufi orders in terms of admission into the organisation, yet the personal ethics of futuwwat ensured that even those who were officially excluded (at least in some futuwwat nAmas) were not prevented from following the futuwwat code.

Notes 1 Thirty-three are listed in “Kashifc,” in ‘Alc Akbar Dihkhuda, LughatnAma, vol. 11, Tehran (new edn), 1373/1994 –5, pp. 15886–7, while Gholam Hosein Yousofi lists forty in his article, “Kashifc,” EI 2, pp. 704–5. 2 For an assessment of the circumstances surrounding the composition of RawZat al-shuhAda see A. Amanat, “Meadow of Martyrs: Kashifc’s Persianisation of the Shi’i Martyrdom Narrative in the Late T cmerid Herat,” in F. Daftary and J. Meri (eds), Culture and Memory in Medieval Islam: Essays in Honour of Wilferd Madelung, London: I.B. Tauris, 2003, pp. 250 –75. 3 See Kristin Zahra Sands, “On the Popularity of Husayn Va‘iz Kashifi’s MavAhib-i “aliyya: A Persian Commentary of the Qur’an,” Iranian Studies, 36(4), December 2003, pp. 469 –83. 4 See C. van Ruymbeke, “Kashifi’s Forgotten Masterpiece: Why Rediscover the AnvAr-i SuhaylC ?” Iranian Studies, 36(4), pp. 571–88. 5 Kashifc, Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC (henceforth referred to as FNS), p. 5. 6 Both Muwammad Ja‘far Mawjeb (in his introduction to FNS, p. 105) and Arley Loewen (“Proper Conduct (Adab) is Everything: The Futuvvat-nAmah-i SulYAnC of Husayn Va‘iz Kashifi,” Iranian Studies, 36(4), p. 545, n. 8) note that the famous twentieth-century Persian scholar Bahar commented that Kashifc’s Futuwwat nAma was “a very useful book . . . and if we did not have it we would have lost a valuable source of information on the social history of medieval Iran which consists of the bands of futuwwat and jawAnmardC or “ayyAri.” Bahar, Sabk ShinAsC, Tehran, 1971, vol. III, pp. 198–9. 7 Given the care and attention that Muwammad Ja‘far Mawjeb paid to Kashifc’s Futuwwat nAma in producing an edited text, and also his lifelong interest in Iranian history and folklore, it is surprising that he never produced any substantial, analytical work on Kashifc’s text. His 113-page introduction to the text focuses on the historical development of futuwwat from the early Islamic period until the late fifteenth century. Only on page 94 does Mawjeb commence a discussion on Kashifc, but he merely lists and describes Kashifc’s other treatises before offering a very brief analysis of the contents of the Futuwwat nAma. There is no discussion of Kashifc’s immediate context or his life, and no debate about his Shc’-ite inclinations, or the influence of the Naqshbandc tradition. A search of Mawjeb’s other works reveals very little information on Kashifc or his Futuwwat nAma (see for example the collection of his articles, AdabiyyAt-i “AmmiyAna-yi IrAn, rasan Dhu al-Faqarc (ed.), Tehran: Chishma, 1382/2003–4), and Ayin-e Javanmardi (Fotowwat), New York: Biblioteca Persian Press, 2000. In English the most substantial works on Kashifc’s Futuwwat nAma are Loewen, “Proper

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10 11

12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism Conduct,” and Kathryn Babayan, Mystics, Monarchs, and Messiahs: Cultural Landscapes of Early Modern Iran, Cambridge, MA: Harvard Center for Middle Eastern Studies, 2002, pp. 161–96. On Jamc see Cl. Huart and H. Massé, “Djamc,” EI 2, vol. II, Leiden: Brill, 1965, p. 421. M. Subtelny, “Husayn Va‘iz Kashifi: Polymath, Popularizer, and Preacher,” Iranian Studies, 36(4), p. 465. The reality is rather complex, however. In RashaWAt, composed by Fakhr al-Dcn ‘Alc (son of Kashifc ) who was a disciple of ‘Ubaydallah Awrar, who was the leading Naqshbandc shaykh, there are indications of a close relationship between his father and Jamc. Yet in the Futuwwat nAma he states that his own shaykh of the way (shaykh-i YarCqat) was Awmad ibn Muwammad al-Qa’cnc (FNS, p. 123). For the Naqshbandcs, see Hamid Algar, “The Naqshbandi Order: A Preliminary Survey of its History and Significance,” Studia Islamica, 44, 1976, pp. 123 –52. See also K.A. Nizami, “The Naqshbandiyyah Order,” in S.H. Nasr (ed.), Islamic Spirituality: Manifestations, London: SCM Press, 1991, pp. 162–93. Amanat, “Meadow of Martyrs,” p. 253. Bayqara was an accomplished poet himself. Simidchieva cites Sa‘cd Nafcsc who remarked that he was not only the “greatest driving force behind the literary progress of [his] century . . . but also wrote good poetry, and has left behind a dCwAn of poetry in Persian, and another in Turkish under the takhalluX Husayni.” Marta Simidchieva, “Imitation and Innovation in Timurid Poetics,” Iranian Studies, 36(4), 2003, p. 521, n. 50. Van Ruymbeke, “Kashifi’s Forgotten Masterpiece,” p. 572. Sergei Tourkin and piva Vesel, “The Contribution of Husayn Va‘iz Kashifi to the Transmission of Astrological Texts,” Iranian Studies, 36(4), p. 590. Cited in Amanat, “Meadow of Martyrs,” p. 260. Attributed to Jamc, in YAd dAsht-hA-yi MCnuwC, vol. 1, Mahdc Qarcb and Muwammad ‘Alc Bihbedc (eds), Tehran, 1375/1996–7, p. 158. I am grateful to Mihran Afsharc who brought this piece of poetry to my attention. Cited in Amanat, “Meadow of Martyrs,” p. 260. On the Sarbadarcs see Charles Melville, “Sarbadarids,” EI 2, Vol. IX, Leiden: Brill, 1997, pp. 47– 8. H.R. Roemer, “The Jalayrids, Muzaffarids and Sarbadars,” in P. Jackson and L. Lockhart (eds), Cambridge History of Iran, vol. VI, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986, p. 24. Amanat, “Meadow of Martyrs,” p. 252. Among the sources that he mentions are Suhrawardc’s Futuwwat nAma and his “AwArif al-ma“arCf, MirXad al-“ibAd of Nam al-Dcn Razc, RadCqat al-WaqCqa of Sana’c, and Tadhkirat al-awliyA of ‘Ayyar. FNS, p. 3. Amanat calls this group SunniyAn-i tafVClC, and includes among them Jamc. See “Meadows of Martyrs,” pp. 253 – 4. Amanat, “Meadow of Martyrs”, p. 252. FNS, p. 1. FNS, pp. 134, 135. “Kitab al-futuwwat,” in Murtiva sarraf (ed.), RasA”il-i jawanmardAn, Tehran: Institut Français en Iran (2nd edn), 1991, p. 100. Afsharc has named this the Futuwwat nAma-yi MCrzA “Abd al-“AZCm KhAn QarCb (after the possessor of the futuwwat nAma). See his ChahArdah risAla dar bAb-i Futuwwat wa aXnAf, Tehran: Nashr-i chishma, 1381/2002–3. The reference to the samA“ is found on page 105. Babayan, Mystics, Monarchs, and Messiahs, p. 181. It does not seem to be the case that Kashifc witnessed a conflict between Shc‘ite tropes and Persianate, pre-Islamic ones. Subtelny has indicated that in his AkhlAq-i MuWsinC, he “amasses

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29 30 31 32 33 34 35

36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54

55 56 57 58

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tales culled from pre-Islamic and Islamic lore, ancient Iranian mythology and history, as well as Scripture and literature, and as such it represents a veritable treasury of popular tales and traditions that circulated in the medieval Iranian world of the fifteenth century.” M. Subtelny, “A Late Medieval Persian Summa on Ethics,” Iranian Studies, 36(4), 2003, p. 609. Ibid., p. 182. Ibid., p. 183. As Babayan herself states, “these Persians epic warriors fighting the cosmic battle of truth were now translated onto Ali and the Imams fighting for a Muslim truth” (ibid., p. 183). Ibid., p. 183. For example, he mentions Shabdiz, the horse of King Khosraw Parviz, and Rakhsh, the horse of Rustam. If asked, “With whom did the shield originate?” Say, “With Kayemarth, the son of Adam. It is also said that he was Adam’s grandchild, and that Adam made him king of his other children.” FNS, p. 354. See M. Molé, “Les Kubrawiya entre sunnisme et shiisme,” Revue des Études Islamiques, 29, 1961, pp. 61–142. See also Shahzad Bashir, Messianic Hopes and Mystical Visions: The NErbakhshCya Between Medieval Islam and Modern Islam, Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2003, pp. 29–75. Loewen, “Proper Conduct,” pp. 544 –70. Ibid., p. 545. Sulamc, K.F., pp. 228–9; BSC, p. 36. Suhrawardc, KitAb fC ’l-futuwwat, para. 24, pp. 116–17. Sulamc, K.F., p. 250; BSC, p. 47. Suhrawardc, KitAb fC ’l-futuwwat, para. 24, p. 116. Loewen, “Proper Conduct,” p. 554. Sulamc, K.F., p. 246; BSC, pp. 44 –5. Suhrawardc, KitAb fC ’l-futuwwat, para. 24, p. 116. Ibid., para. 44, pp. 125 – 6. Ibid., p. 91. M. Munfarid, Paywand-i sCyAsat wa farhang dar “aXr-i zuwAl-i TCmEriyAn wa ZuhEr SafawiyAn, Tehran: Anjuman-i fthar wa mufakhir-i farhangc (2nd edn), 1382/2003 – 4, p. 320. FNS, p. 116. FNS, p. 29. FNS, p. 40. Muwammad Ja‘far Mawjeb, “Jawanmardc dar Iran-i Islamc” (“Jawanmardc in Islamic Iran”), in AdabiyAt “ammiyAna-yi IrAn. The article was first published in IrAn-nAma, 11, pp. 7–16. FNS, pp. 9 –10. See the discussion by Loewen, “Proper Conduct,” p. 548. Kashifc attributes the source to the QawA”id al-futuwwat of Farcd al-dcn ‘Ayyar. This work has been the subject of some scholarly debate, and the attribution to ‘Ayyar appears to be misleading. See M. Rcyav, Futuwwat NAma, Tehran: Asatcr, 1382/2003 – 4, pp. 126 –9. Suhrawardc, RisAlat al-futuwwat, 11; FNS, p. 3. FNS, p. 29. FNS, p. 39. This is not to say that Ibn ‘Arabc had nothing to say about futuwwat, as was shown in Chapter 2. A book entitled, Ibn Arabi: L”initiation à la futuwwat has been published by Laila Khalifa (Paris: Al-Bouraq, 2001) which investigates a spiritualised version of futuwwat (I have not seen this work). FNS, p. 245.

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60 These shared rituals include the sAmA“ (the Futuwwat nAma-yi MCrzA “Abd al-“AZCm KhAn QarCb in Afsharc’s ChahArdah RisAla has such a chapter, pp. 103–7). Suhrawardc (RasA”il-i jawAnmardAn, p. 153) mentions certain qualities that the trainee fatA must possess, and this includes good hearing “because the ears of a man [who engages in] dhikr and fikr are secure, healthy and safe.” Moreover, the futuwwat nAmas all share in having sections on communal eating, which are included in many of the books authored by Sufis; see, for example, Muwammad Ghazalc, KCmCA”-yi sa“Adat, Tehran: Markaz-i Intisharat-i ‘ilmc wa farhangc, 1361/1982–3, vol. I, pp. 283 –300. 61 FNS, p. 107. 62 Golpinarli, Futuwwat dar Kishwar-hA-yi IslAmC pp. 92–3. 63 FNS, p. 107. 64 FNS, p. 109. 65 FNS, p. 122. 66 This silsila is traced back through several of the most eminent Kubrawc Sufi masters, including ‘Ala ’l-Dawla Simnanc, Riva ’l-din ‘Alc Lala, and Najm al-dcn Kubra. The Kubrawc connection is interesting simply because of the importance of the individuals mentioned. Their standing as Sufi masters and authors of authoritative texts is second to none in this period, and it must have served as a source of pride to members of the futuwwat organisations that an individual with such a Sufi lineage was also a member of the futuwwat organisation. The silsila then leaves its “Persian” grounding and is connected to Arab Sufi /futuwwat masters such as Abe ’l-Najcb Suhrawardc, Junayd, Sarc Saqtc, and also through Shc‘ite Imams, including Mesa Riva and Ja‘far sadiq, back to Muwammad. It is interesting that Kashifc makes no mention of Jamc. FNS, pp. 123 – 4. 67 For a discussion on Sa‘dc and futuwwat see Shafc‘c-Kadkanc, “Sa‘dc dar salasil-i jawanmardc,” BukhArA, 46, 1384/2005 – 6, pp. 93–103. 68 In particular, it had been discussed by Kaykawes ibn Iskandar in his QAbEs nAma. The QAbEs nAma has been translated into English: see Reuben Levy, A Mirror for Princes, London: Cresset Press, 1951. In the QAbEs nAma, jawAnmardC is mentioned with respect to three distinct social groups (the soldiers, the tradesmen (mardumAn-i bAzAr) and the Sufis). It is not clear, however, whether the use of the term was purely to express abstract attributes or character traits, or whether there was something more substantial, such as unique social forms. Mihran Afsharc suggests the latter, as he believes that the different forms of initiation to the futuwwat organisations that were discussed in the period after the writing of the QAbEs nAma (especially in the futuwwat nAma of Zarkeb) reflect this threefold division. Thus, the oath by the sword was particular to the soldier, that of the verbal pledge was for the ascetic tradesman, and the oath by salt-water was for the Sufi. See Mihran Afsharc, Futuwwat-nAma-hA wa rasA”il-i khAksAriyya, Tehran: Institute for Humanities and Cultural Studies, 1381/2003, p. xxxv. 69 Ahmet Karamustafa, Sufism: The Formative Period, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2007, p. 66. 70 Kashifc states in his introduction (FNS, p. 4) that the book will contain twelve parts, but the two extant manuscripts contain the first seven, suggesting that he died before he could complete the work. 71 Mehdi Keyvani, Artisans and Guild Life in the Later Safavid Period: Contributions to the Social-Economic History of Persia, Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Verlag, 1982, p. 42. 72 Ibid., p. 43. 73 FNS, pp. 89 –90. 74 FNS, p. 97. 75 Keyvani, Artisans and Guild Life, p. 68.

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76 FNS, pp. 278–9. 77 For Sulamc see KitAb TabaqAt al-SEfiyya, Ner al-Dcn Sharcba (ed.), Cairo, 1969. For Ansarc see TabaqAt al-XEfiya, M. Surer Mawla’c (ed.), Tehran: Tes, 1386/ 2007–8. For Jamc see his NafaWAt al-Uns, M. ‘Abidc (ed.), Tehran: Iyyila‘at, 1370/1991–2. 78 For Abe Sa‘cd see AsrAr al-tawWCd, ed. Shafc‘c Kadkanc. 79 Munfarid, Paywand-i sCyAsat, p. 323. 80 Van Ruymbeke, “Anvar Suhaylc,” p. 577. In the West, Kashifc’s literary style in AnwAr-i SuhaylC has been the subject of stinging attacks. Rypka calls it “absurdly high-flown” (p. 223), and says it “left an ineffaceable and unfortunately calamitous mark on Persian literature” (p. 313). J. Rypka, History of Iranian Literature, Dordrecht: D. Reidel, 1968. 81 E.G. Browne, A Literary History of Persia, 2: 352, cited in van Ruymbeke, “Anvar Suhaylc,” p. 575. 82 Charles H. Schaefer, Chrestomatie persane à l’usage des élèves de l’Ecole spéciale des langues orientales vivantes, 2 vols, Paris, 1883–5. A very similar version of the text was published in Tehran, entitled RisAla RAtimiya, having been edited by Sayyid Muwammad Riva Jalalc Na’cnc (Tehran: Nihzat, 1320). This version is the same as Schaefer’s although it has a few extra paragraphs at the end in which ratim’s jawAnmardC is compared to that of rusayn Bayqara. rayim comes off unfavourably in this comparison because his generosity was particular to the Arabs, and it was also to spread his name, whereas rusayn Bayqara’s generosity was universal and his mercy was more prevailing because he was able to build institutions to offer assistance to the needy (pp. 58–9). 83 C. van Arendonk, “ratim’s al-ta’c”, EI 2, vol. III, Leiden: Brill, 1971, pp. 274–5. 84 A. Schaade, “ ‘Adc b. ratim,”EI 2, vol. I, Leiden: Brill, 1960, p. 195. 85 See Mahmoud Omidsalar’s article, “ratim ta’i,” in Encyclopedia Iranica Online: www.iranica.com. 86 Amanat, “Meadow of Martyrs,” p. 258. 87 That Sa‘dc also related several episodes in the life of ratim ta’c seems to be a logical inclusion in his works because of the probability that he was a master of the futuwwat tradition. 88 ‘Awfi lived in the late twelfth to early thirteenth century. His JawAmi“ al-WikAyAt wa lawAmi“ al-riwAyAt was discussed by Muhammad Nizamud-Din, in his Introduction to the Jawámi“ u”l-Wikáyát wa lawámi“ ur-riwáyát of Sadídu”d-Din MuWammad al-“Awfí, London: Luzac & Co., 1929. This work provides a list of the contents of ‘Awfc’s book, and therefore it is possible to identify the stories that Kashifc incorporated into his own treatise. 89 The Diwan of Hatim al-Tai, translated and commented on by Arthur Wormhoudt, William Pearl College, 1984, pp. 45 – 6. 90 Golpinarli, Futuwwat dar Kishwar-hA-yi IslAmC, p. 163, lines 111–21. 91 Schaefer, Chrestomatie persane, p. 175. 92 Ibid., pp. 181–8. 93 Ibid., pp. 188–92. 94 Ibid., pp. 192– 4. 95 Ibid., p. 193. 96 Ibid., pp. 194 –6. 97 See Rkia Cornell’s translation of Sulamc’s Dhikr al-niswa al-muta “abbidAt al-XEfiyyAt, in her Early Sufi Women, Louisville, KY: Fons Vitae, 1999, pp. 110, 168, 190, 196, 198, 210, 214, 222, 238, 256, 258. 98 Ibid. 99 Although Samak-i “AyyAr is not a Sufi text, it does share the same sort of ethical perspectives as futuwwat in general. It is interesting that in this story women are described with the attribute of futuwwat. See M.J. Mahjub, “Chivalry and

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102 103 104 105 106

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Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism Early Persian Sufism,” in L. Lewisohn (ed.), Classical Persian Sufism: From its Origin to Rumi, London: KNP, 1993, p. 562. For Ibn ‘Arabi on gender see J.J. Elias, “Female and Feminine in Islamic Mysticism,” The Muslim World, 78, 1988, pp. 209–24. Negative perspectives can be found in A. Schimmel, “Eros – Heavenly and Not So Heavenly – in Sufi Literature and Life,” in Afaf Lutfi al-Sayyid Marsot (ed.), Society and the Sexes in Medieval Islam, Malibu: Undena Publications, 1979, pp. 119 – 41. Schaefer, Chrestomatie persane, p. 185. Ibid., p. 193. ‘Azcz Nasafc, KitAb al-InsAn al-KAmil, M. Molé (ed.), Tehran: Institut Francais d’Iranologie de Teheran, 1980, p. 138. See Carl Ernst, Words of Ecstasy in Sufism, Albany: SUNY Press, 1985, pp. 36–40. Cited in M.I. Waley, “Didactic Style and Self-Criticism in ‘Ayyar,” in L. Lewisohn and C. Shackle (eds), Attar and the Persian Sufi Tradition, London: I.B. Tauris, 2006, p. 233. Waley shows that ‘Ayyar’s boasting must be understood in conjunction with his self-criticism, and these two extremes “bring to life as vividly as possible his . . . relationship with God” (p. 234). Ernst, Words of Ecstasy, p. 40.

5

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era Qalandar and Khaksar jawAnmardC

Safavid anti-Sufism It has been argued that the establishment of the Safavid dynasty in Iran at the start of the sixteenth century, which was based on the support of the Sufi-esque Turkish warriors (called the qizilbAsh), was inherently unstable from the perspective of running an efficient and orderly state.1 The qizilbAsh promoted and venerated Isma‘cl (d. 1524) who was the leader of the Safavid Sufi YarCqa which had originally emerged in Azerbaijan as a Sunni order. Isma‘cl became the first Shah of the new dynasty, and officially adopted the Shc‘ite creed for the whole of Iran. His Shc‘-ism was combined with a form of Sufism, and these Sufi inclinations and those of the people of Iran were evident to European travellers (“This Sophy [sefc] is loved and revered by his people as a God”),2 and the qizilbAsh regarded him as the living emanation of the godhead. Yet the messianic atmosphere of the Safavid period3 and the qizilbAsh thirst for conquest and plunder inevitably had to be domesticated and tamed in order for the dynasty to function. The use of a legalistic form of Shc‘-ism was the method promoted by the Safavid dynasty. Shc‘ite scholars were patronised and supported by the Shah, and these forces were able to marginalise the qizilbAsh, and promote a form of Shc‘-ism in which the return of the Mahdc was pushed into the distant future. The Shah’s charismatic Sufi persona was transformed into one that was more stable and less open to an ecstatic and emotional following. He became the champion of twelver Shc‘ism and claimed to be the representative of the Mahdc on earth (which was not always enthusiastically accepted by the Shc‘ite clerics, who believed that this prerogative was theirs). The denominational transformation in Safavid Iran affected the Sufi orders which had traditionally been of a Sunni colouring. Nasr has witnessed a gradual tendency towards Shc‘-ism among the orders in the pre-Safavid period,4 an argument that has been rejected by Algar,5 yet there is a consensus that the Sufi orders in Iran were faced with an intolerant and “totalitarian” state. In effect the orders had to either conform to Safavid Shc‘-ism or relocate elsewhere. Orders such as the Dhahabiyya, the Nerbakhshiyya and the Ni‘matullahiyya adopted Shc‘ism, while the Qadiriyya and Naqshbandiyya abandoned Iranian territory.6

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Those orders that did become Shc‘ite still encountered strict limits on their freedom, and in fact by the end of the Safavid dynasty the Sufi orders had become peripheral in many aspects in Iranian society. The Safavid authorities’ control and surveillance of the Sufi orders is mentioned in the Tadhkirat al-MulEk (a manual of Safavid administration which was composed towards the end of the dynasty), as khalCfas were appointed “throughout the God-protected kingdom for the maintenance of lawful practices and for the prohibition of unlawful (munkar) ones.”7 The head of all the khalCfas was the khalCfat al-khulafA, who was not beyond the power of the Shah, typified in the events of 1576. In this year Shah Isma‘cl II had the khalCfat al-khulafA blinded and he had 1,200 other Sufis massacred.8 The same text also mentions that the naqCb (which was also the name of one of the officials in the aXnAf, discussed in Chapter 3) “also appointed the elders of the dervishes, (street) performers (ahl-i ma“Arik) and so on.”9 The difficulties encountered by Sufis during the Safavid period are evident in the kind of anti-Sufi literature that was written by Shc‘ite scholars. Lewisohn regards the “animosity of the formalist ‘ulamA’, those pseudoorthodox Shc‘ite clerics who viewed Sufism itself as a type of ghuluww, and whose bitter prejudice was thus largely responsible for its eradication,” as the “cardinal cause” of the anti-Sufi campaign.10 One of the most virulently antagonistic anti-Sufi treatises was penned by al-Qummc (d. 1687) who disparaged the Sunni nature of Sufis, including ‘Ayyar and Remc,11 and also various Sufi doctrines including the superiority of friendship (wilAya) over prophethood (nubuwwa) and practices such as the samA“. Other modern scholars, such as Newman, have witnessed links between anti-Sufism and socio-economic changes,12 and Arjomand witnesses “two distinct stages” of the suppression of Sufism in Safavid Iran.13 Initially, it was the qizilbAsh form of Sufism and that of the Sufi orders that needed to be controlled. At the start of the Safavid period when the Shc‘ite clergy was attempting to establish a solid grounding in Iran, its main concern with regard to Sufi ideas was the recitation of the AbE Muslim NAma, the popularity of which, according to Newman, “attests to the presence of a messianic millenarianism stemming from the escalating urban disquiet.”14 Clerical opposition to the recitation of the AbE Muslim NAma was directed at the qizilbAsh. In this folk tale Abe Muslim had communion with the Shc‘ite Imams, and became a messianic figure to rectify all the injustices perpetrated against the Shc‘ite cause. In effect he became the leader par excellence, worthy of veneration and blind imitation. The parallels with how the qizilbAsh viewed Shah Isma‘cl are clear, and the Sufi-ghuluww dimensions of this drama were sufficient for clerics such as Karakc to issue a fatwa against its recitation.15 Aside from the suppression of the recitation of the AbE Muslim NAma, the Sufi orders represented a potential threat to the Safavid state because of the allegiance that the followers of a particular order had for the shaykh. In the Safavid period many of the Sufi orders were concentrated in particular geographic locations, which must have been considered a threat by the Safavid authorities. For example, one

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era 125 Nerbakhshiyya shaykh, Amcr Qawam al-Dcn, built up a following in Reyy, but was executed because he could not provide an adequate answer to the Shah’s authorities regarding his erection of a fortress and his gathering of armaments.16 Arjomand states that the first stage of suppression was completed under Shah ‘Abbas the Great (d. 1629),17 and ultimately, by the middle of the seventeenth century, “most of the Sufi orders had to close down their khAnaqAhs and go underground or else retreat to the geographical fringes, the more out of the way areas.”18 The second stage of anti-Sufism was not focused on the recitation of the AbE Muslim NAma (which suggests that the clergy had been successful in their campaign), but rather concentrated on specific Sufi practices and doctrines, and the tradition of “irfAn, which was attempting to fuse the intellectual Sufi tradition with Shc‘-ism. At times, the Gnostic-philosophers were accorded respect by the Safavid rulers (such as during the reign of ‘Abbas II (1642– 66)), and were able to promote “high Sufism” in relative freedom,19 but “their attempt to unify sefism and Shi‘ism, however, before long brought down on them the wrath of the more rigid religious scholars who came to form the late Safavid hierocracy.”20 Despite the general opposition to Sufism in the first stage of anti-Sufi activity, Sufi sentiment persisted, and Newman points to the failure of the clerics’ attempt to promote their own claims to intercessory and interpretative authority, as the merchants and artisanal groups clung to forms of Sufism and sought “solace and meaning in efforts to achieve a more direct, immanent and intimate relationship with the divine.”21 As was shown in the previous chapter, some of the occupations in Timurid society were well suited to provide forms of Sufi belief and practice. The nature of these occupations in Safavid society, as reflected in the futuwwat nAma of the occupational associations, displays striking continuity with those from the Timurid period. Treatises from the Safavid and Qajar periods that are particular to specific occupations and detail the spiritual history of the occupation in question have been considered part of the literature on futuwwat. As Afsharc explains, many of these do not have the formal title of “futuwwat nAma,” and perhaps there is no mention of futuwwat or jawAnmardC in some of them, but because the past tradesmen were followers of futuwwat manners, and because the topics and style of these treatises is similar to the discussions and style of futuwwat nAmas (especially as the myths and stories [of these treatises] match those of the futuwwat nAmas), it is more suitable to consider these treatises within the [classification] of futuwwat [literature].22 To repeat Afsharc’s observation, there are some treatises that do not mention futuwwat or jawAnmardC,23 while others make explicit linkages. For example, the futuwwat nAma-yi qaXXAb (the futuwwat nAma of the butchers) mentions in the very first paragraph that the jawAnmardAn must have a pCr

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or a master. Moreover, in tracing the lineage of the butchers and skinners, the treatise attributes the name “jawAnmard ” to the prophets Adam and Idris, and the word is also attributed to the angels Serafil and Gabriel who taught related trades.24 The style and format of these works and the vast majority of others reflect the tradition of Kashifc who elaborated on futuwwat in the form of questions and answers. It is probable that this format was directed at those in the trade who in all likelihood would not have had a great deal of formal education, and so for the sake of simplicity and clarity the question–answer format provided the best means to convey the message. As the Futuwwat nAma-yi saqqAyAn states, Whoever is a water bearer must read this treatise, and if he cannot read, he must ask someone else to read it aloud, and he must then listen to it. And he must preserve the way of the tradition, so that the occupation of water-bearing will be legally permitted (WalAl ) for him.25 Another major feature which such treatises have in common is the myth of origin; all trades in these futuwwat nAmas are traced back to the prophets. In many cases the origin is actually taught by Gabriel to Adam, or to other prophets, and it is often then traced to Muwammad and ‘Alc. The tasks of all of these trades are spiritualised in such a way that all actions, tasks and even the implements take on a life of their own and worship God. The following is from the futuwwat nAma-yi YabbakhAn (the futuwwat nAma of cooks): If they ask, “What do you say when you pass the door of the house?” Say, “I recite a fAtiWa and a takbCr for the spirit of the masters ( pCrAn) and teachers (ustAdAn).” And if they ask, “What do you look at?” Say, “First at the stove (awjAq) and then at the cooking pot.” If they ask, “What do you say?” Say, “I say, ‘Glory belongs to God. Praise belongs to God. There is no god but God. God is the greatest. There is no change and no power except through God the Most High, the Exalted.’ ” And if they ask, “As you reach [your] work place, with which foot do you enter?” Say, “The right foot.” If they ask, “On stepping through, what do you say?” Say, “Oh Opener of openings, oh Provider of daily bread.” If they ask, “When you reach the stove, what do you say?” Say, “I trust upon God and the believers, oh MuWammad, oh “AlC, the best of mankind.” If they ask, “What do you say when you sit down [to work] at the sufra?”26 Say, “I say, ‘I am safe through God and his prophet.’ ” If they ask, “What does the pot say when it boils?”

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era 127 Say, “It says, ‘Oh key to happiness.’ ” If they ask, “What does the lid say?” Say, “Oh Majesty, oh Compeller.” If they ask, “What do you say when you place the chopping board (takhta) on the sufra?” Say, “I say, ‘Oh Singular One, oh Coverer.’ ”27 The above example is intriguing because of the suggestion of a certain Sufi understanding in which non-animate things are “alive” and can worship God, which was a theme developed within the school of Ibn ‘Arabc and the unity of existence (waWdat al-wujEd ).28 The text cited above offers perhaps an idealised form of spirituality among working people, and one can only speculate as to whether such “spirituality” was maintained in the day-to-day performance of the tasks. It is worth pointing out that the Persian manuscripts that Afsharc has edited and published are usually described in Persian as pertaining to the Xinf (pl. aXnAf ). The Persian term Xinf appears to be used to convey the meaning of a specific occupation. Keyvani has cited the historian Iskandar Munshc who, “writing in Shah ‘Abbas I’s reign, remarked that the expression aXnAf-i ra”AyA (groups of the subjects) usually means the different occupations.”29 At a later date in the Zand period the aXnAf comprised the whole of the working population. Therefore, it is not always clear what the term actually means, although Floor has attempted to provide some precision by defining a Xinf as a guild, an artisanal corporate body that chose its own chief and was taxed in a different way from all other economic groups in the city (i.e. the individual of the guild was not taxed, but the corporation as a whole was taxed, and the corporation then collected the dues from the individual members).30 In addition Floor has pointed out an error of some authors who write about Iran that there has been a tendency not to “distinguish between guilds (professional organisations) and futuvvat orders (spiritual organisations).”31 His point is that there were some guilds that were not affiliated to or even inspired by the ideals of futuwwat, and it is possible that there were some occupations that were not guilds that were inspired by such ideals. However, the aim of this chapter is not to define or analyse the guilds in the Safavid period; rather, this first part of the chapter focuses on those professions which were clearly associated with futuwwat. It would be wrong to assume that futuwwat was exclusive to occupational groupings, as there are some futuwwat nAmas from the Safavid period that are not associated with any occupation, but these will be discussed in due course.32 The futuwwat nAmas from the Safavid period onwards that are specific to occupation and which have been published include those for textile makers,33 butchers, cobblers, cooks, barbers, masseurs,34 messengers, feltmakers, bakers, cloth makers, skinners, bath attendants,35 archers,36 soldiers37 and water bearers.38 No doubt there were many more, as it is probable that at least some of the occupations mentioned by Kashifc would have had their

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own futuwwat nAmas during the Safavid period. However, it would be wrong to assume that all the occupations that were mentioned in the lists of the Safavid period (which were composed for purposes of taxation) would have possessed their own futuwwat nAma, as these lists include beggars and brothel-keepers,39 whose morality did not conform to the holy law or the demands of futuwwat. The Sufi influence within the treatise prepared for the textile makers (chCt sAzAn) is a good example of how Sufism coloured the warp and weft of the occupation (and by extension how Sufism was significant among other occupations that held to the ideals of futuwwat).40 The treatise offers a customary fourfold hierarchical division of spirituality: sharC “at, YarCqat, WaqCqat and ma“rCfat. The four pCrs of the sharC “at are Adam, Abraham, Moses and Muwammad; the four pCrs of the YarCqat are the archangels Gabriel, Michael, Serafil and ‘Azra’cl;41 the four pCrs of the WaqCqat are the father ( pidar), the teacher (mu“allim), the master (ustAd ) and the father of the bride ( pidar-i urEs);42 and the four pcrs of ma“rCfat are recognisable Sufi poets and spiritual masters, namely, Shaykh ‘Ayyar, rafiz-i Shcrazc, Shah Shams-i Tabrczc, and Mawla-yi Rem.43 Moreover, Sufi doctrine is endorsed with reference to an answer about the four takbCr, which are the takbCr of baqA (subsistence), fanA (annihilation), riVA (satisfaction), and jafA (cruelty).44 The actual Sufi influence on the day-to-day activities of those in specific occupations is unclear, and it is not known if the occupational associations had their own Sufi-inspired ritual activities (such as the samA“) in this period. There are suggestions that the Sufi influence of the trades waned during the Safavid period, and Keyvani cited a verse from Khakc Khurasanc (in the mid-seventeenth century) “which clearly indicates and regrets a weakening of the traditional connection of the guilds with Sufi orders at that time”: Discussion of outward observance and declaration Of inward belief became impossible without pCrs and master craftsmen of guilds.45 In any case it is necessary not to overstate the Sufi influence in the futuwwatinspired occupational associations, just as Babayan has observed that, the mix of religious currents and eddies had flowed through coffeehouses, bazaars, and central squares where mullas and dervishes had spoken of their religious quests, some genuinely believing in their missions, others seeing them as a profession – merely a means of gaining a livelihood.46 And just as mullas and dervishes may have regarded their professions as merely livelihoods, so too the artisans and tradesmen may also have pursued their occupations without much conscious recognition of or approbation for its Sufi subtext. Moreover, although there does seem to be some continuity in

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era 129 the Safavid occupational associations with previous futuwwat ritual, this does not necessarily indicate the preservation of Sufi sentiment. Clerical opposition to the Sufi YarCqas may have resulted in the watering down of some of the Sufi-style activities of the occupational associations in the Safavid period. Yet it is noticeable that among many of the futuwwat nAmas from the late Safavid and early Qajar periods, traces of Sufism remain. However, more common in such texts are descriptions of devotional and ethical activity which is spiritualised and which largely conforms to externalist Shc‘ism. It is perhaps useful here to cite an example of this, which is taken from the futuwwat nAma of the bakers (khabbAzAn). It is essential and necessary for all those with a trade and for wearers of the khirqa (khirqa dArAn) to know well the transmission (sanad ) and the tools of their trade. They must take a teacher or master and perform the conditions of service accordingly because tomorrow is the resurrection before God Most High, and He will ask the wearers of the khirqa, “How did you come to know this trade (kAr) and how did you do it?” Just as the Glorious Book says, Every soul is a hostage to what it has earned (74.38). And know that the duty with the khirqa for work (khirqa[yi] kAr) is submission, the belief with the khirqa for work is prayer, the qibla with the khirqa for work is fear of God, the ablution with the khirqa for work is abandoning desire and caprice, the soul ( jAn) with the khirqa for work is [right] association (XuWbat), the key with the khirqa for work is truthfulness, the prayer of the khirqa for work is purity, the pillars with the khirqa for work are [right] understanding, the treasure with the khirqa for work is gnosis (ma“rifat), the collar with the khirqa for work is choice of friends, the sleeve with the khirqa for work is covering (satr) [others’ faults], the skirt with the khirqa for work is service [to others]. If they ask, “What is the condition of the khirqa for work?” Say, “Five things: First, that you do not do evil; second you do not like someone else’s evil deed; third, you do not betray a trust; fourth, you give and do not expect a just return; fifth, you live in accordance with what is good.”47 If they ask, “How many things are essential for the master bread baker (ustAd-i nAn-paz) which he must perform so that this trade and occupation is sure for him?” First is that he is always in a state of purity. Second, he performs the prayer five times. Third is fasting in the month of Ramavan and on the blessed days that have been assigned. Fourth, he is steadfast in the affairs pertaining to the sharC “at and its questions. Fifth, he obeys the manner of the YarCqat. Sixth, he is conscious and aware of the WaqCqat. Seventh, he has the fAtiWa and takbCr of his teacher and master. Eighth, he is obedient to the masters and the People of the Way. Ninth, he does not behave arrogantly and conceitedly with people;

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Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism Tenth, he is kind, good and shows pity to all people. Eleventh, he instructs and guides his apprentices because he is their chief (khalCfa). Twelfth, he teaches faith and submission (CmAn wa islAm) to his apprentice[s]. Thirteenth, he knows the khuYba for the khirqa-for work, and he recites it every day. Fourteenth, he keeps the bread shop and place of work clean. Fifteenth, he tries to keep alight at all times the lamp of the masters. Sixteenth, he maintains generosity and jawAnmardC with friends ( yArAn) and brothers of the way (barAdarAn-i ahl-i YarCq). Seventeenth, when he wishes to commence work, he recites the fAtiWa and the takbCr for the spirit of the masters and the forefathers (rEW-i pCrAn wa pCshqadamAn). Eighteenth, he guards the honour and the glory of the brothers of the way. Nineteenth, he is always [performing] dhikr and fikr. Twentieth, he is respectful to the destitute and strangers. Twenty-first, he is tolerant and enduring. Twenty-second, he is not vengeful or prejudicial. Twenty-third, he does not talk behind people’s backs, nor does he curse. Twenty-fourth, when he finishes his work, he recites a fAtiWa and a takbCr for the masters (ustAdAn) and forefathers.48

When composing their anti-Sufi works it is possible that some Shc‘ite clerics were cautious not to condemn Sufi-inclined occupational associations because in their futuwwat nAmas such organisations manifested a strong devotion to ‘Alc. Among the most common narratives in the stories of the futuwwat nAmas are those concerning Ibrahcm and ‘Alc, the latter being the most sublime manifestation of jawAnmardC. Moreover, in these works it is usual that the initiation ritual is mentioned, and it is traced back to one of the prophets, and then to ‘Alc who passed on the tradition to subsequent members of the trade.49 (Of particular interest in this regard are the butchers and skinners whose patron saint was Jawanmard Qaxxab who was initiated by ‘Alc.)50 Another reason that the Shc‘ite clerics may have been prepared to endorse the role of the futuwwat-inspired occupational organisations was because the futuwwat nAmas include passages that repeatedly urged their members to abide by the rulings of the sharC“a,51 and not to fall short in honouring the ‘ulamA’.52 Of course there were also Shc‘ite clerics who were sympathetic to Sufism, and no doubt they approved of the way in which Shc‘-ism and sober Sufism, which endorsed the sharC “a, were fused in the literature of the occupational associations. Such clerics argued that the sharC “a alone was insufficient to gain knowledge of God; in other words, they believed that Shc‘ism and Sufism were compatible. The relative scarcity of the sort of lengthy and elaborate futuwwat nAmAs that had been composed by Suhrawardc, Zarkeb and others – that is, the general form of manual that was not tied to a specific occupational organisation – suggests that by the Safavid period the form of futuwwat had developed into something different from its post-Mongol and pre-Safavid manifestation. The futuwwat associations in Iran prior to the Timurid period

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era 131 seem to have functioned as Sufi-inspired organisations where devotional activities were performed. The linkages with specific occupational organisations are at best sketchy but it does seem that these urban groups provided many benefits to their community, in particular in terms of defence, security, charity, and serving in general as a kind of social cement, in particular for the males in the towns and villages. It is interesting to speculate that Taeschner’s observations about the akhC /futuwwat groups in Anatolia during this period may well have parallels in the Iranian context. It is argued that the rise of Ottoman power [was] unfavourable to the existence of free associations such as those of the akhcs. This, according to Taeschner, was the reason for the fusion of the akhC movement with “anderen zünftlerischen Anfängen” and the creation of a guild system in which the akhC traditions survived.53 Futuwwat in the form espoused by the occupational organisations provided the Safavids with a safe form of Shc‘ite-Sufism by which they could further their state-building and centralising activities. It is no surprise that the occupational organisations were closely monitored by the Safavids, for not only did the former offer some form of self-discipline and control, but they also provided the authorities with a source of revenue through payment of taxes, so it was in the interests of the central authorities not to antagonise them too much. The linkage between the occupational organisations and the central authorities has been well documented. Keyvani has argued that by the time of Shah ‘Abbas I (1588–1629), “the various officers [of the occupational organisations] had more or less become tools in the hands of the government.”54 Of particular note was the role of the naqCb in the occupational occupations, a position mentioned in Kashifc’s futuwwat nAma and discussed in the previous chapter. The Tadhkirat al-MulEk describes the main function of the naqCb, which was to fix the tax (bunCcha) of the occupational organisation.55 Such a task necessitated close relations with the government, and indeed, he was appointed by the Shah and was a high official.56 It was probably because of the need to record taxes that lists of aXnAf were kept in the Safavid period. There is one such list of occupations that were not subject to the normal tax, but paid customary dues (rusEm) to the official in charge, and which were supervised by a senior government official (a naqCb) – they had no head (bAshC ) of their own. The surveillance by the state of these occupations was due to the nature of their professions which “were considered harmful to the morals and discipline of the community.”57 It would seem therefore that these occupations were not “guilds” in the sense understood by Willem Floor. Nevertheless, this list includes some of the occupations that Kashifc wrote about, such as the show men (ma“raka-gCrAn), and wrestlers (kushtC gCrAn), both of which had strong leanings towards futuwwat

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ideals. Second on this list of occupations at Isfahan in the Safavid period is the Qalandars, groups of whom enjoyed a particularly close attachment to the futuwwat tradition.

The Qalandar The Qalandar provide a useful case study by which to examine futuwwat in the Safavid period, as examining all the Sufi orders’ attitudes to the topic would be a formidable challenge. Limiting the investigation in this section to the relationship of one group of Sufis to futuwwat may seem rather limited; however, the case of the Qalandar has been chosen because they had particular linkages with the tradition of futuwwat. This section will provide a brief background of the Qalandar in Iran; and subsequently the strong Qalandar links with specific occupations will be examined, along with their close associations to the jawAnmardC tradition. Finally, the literature of such Qalandar groups will be highlighted to show the extent of the futuwwat influence. Qalandars have a long history within the Sufi tradition, although their actual manifestation as a particular socio-religious movement most probably occurred several centuries after their appearance as a trope in Persian poetry. References to Qalandars appear in the works of poets and Sufis such as Baba tawir-i ‘Uryan (d. first half of eleventh century), Abe Sa‘cd Abe ’l-Khayr (d. 1049), Anxarc (d. 1088–9), Awmad Ghazalc (d. 1126), ‘Ayn al-Quvat (d. 1130–1),58 ‘Ayyar (d. c. 1221),59 and ‘Iraqc (1289).60 These works depict the Qalandar manifesting an “open disregard for social convention in the cause of ‘true’ religious love,”61 and the Qalandar is associated with the kharAbAt, wine drinking, gambling and flouting the sharC “a. Although this literary trope continued in the centuries subsequent to ‘Iraqc, it was during his own lifetime that some individuals adopted a lifestyle that came to be regarded as that of the “true” Qalandar; indeed, two of these were considered founders of what has been termed a “new renunciatory movement.”62 These individuals, both native Iranians, were Jamal al-Dcn Sawc, sometimes referred to as Jamal al-Dcn Sawcjc (who lived in the middle of the thirteenth century),63 and Quyb al-Dcn raydar Zawagc (who died around 1200).64 The common feature of these two individuals was their extreme form of asceticism. Jamal al-Dcn Sawc adopted a life of seclusion in graveyards, shaved the hair from his head and face, and at times abandoned the use of clothing or else wore heavy, coarse cloth material. Quyb al-Dcn raydar Zawagc spent most of his life in seclusion on a mountain near Zawa in Khurasan. Like Jamal al-Dcn Sawc, Quyb al-Dcn raydar used unconventional forms of clothing, and in many instances he would spend his time naked, using only leaves to cover his genitals. Moreover, the later practice of raydarc Qalandars of wearing an iron ring around the penis to prevent sexual gratification may well have its origins in a practice of Quyb al-Dcn raydar.65 Various groups of Qalandars emerged in the subsequent centuries and they

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era 133 adopted different forms of social deviance: the so-called four shaves (chahAr Zarb) which entailed shaving the hair, eyebrows, moustache and beard; wearing unconventional clothing; and decorating themselves with various iron rings including ear-rings, bracelets, necklaces and anklets. Perhaps the most “infamous” act of all was the apparent Qalandar disregard for the sharC“a. Although these two individuals probably did not intend to establish new social movements, in the fourteenth century there is sufficient evidence to establish that subsequent Qalandar movements believed that their silsilas originated with Jamal al-Dcn Sawc and Quyb al-Dcn raydar Zawagc. By the fourteenth century Qalandar movements were scattered throughout the Islamic world, from North Africa, through Iran and into India. Such socially deviant Qalandars were present in Safavid society, even in the most conspicuous locations, such as the main square of the capital in Isfahan. Keyvani has summarised the descriptions of the Qalandar in Isfahan by the mid-seventeenth-century Russian traveller Kotov: They went barefoot and naked, wearing only a sheepskin with the fur outwards flung over their shoulders. On their heads they put hideous caps, in their hands they carried sticks and spears and axes, and in their ears they stuck big crystal stones. Their appearance was terrible, as though mad and evil. By day they would walk around the Maydan-i Shah and bazaar, and would eat and drink little, at night they would drink wine and fornicate.66 Recently, another origin for the historical Qalandar has been suggested by Mihran Afsharc, who links the Qalandars with the futuwwat tradition. Crucial to this connection is the initiation ceremony into the futuwwat associations in the post-Mongol period. Afsharc witnesses continuity in these initiation rituals with the references to futuwwat within the QAbEs nAma of the eleventh century. The QAbEs nAma discussed the jawAnmardC of three groups: the “ayyAr and the soldiers, the artisans ( pCshawarAn), and the Sufis. Afsharc notes the parallels of these three groups with the three types of trainee within Najm al-Dcn Zarkeb’s treatise on futuwwat: the sayfC, the qawlC, and the shurbC. Afsharc regards the QAbEs nAma’s threefold taxonomy of jawAnmardC not as a kind of spiritual disposition or character trait, but as real manifestations of social organisation. He comments, In the words of Zarkeb, the [initiation] belt of the sayfiyAn was made of leather, and the belt of the qawliyAn was made of cotton, and the belt of the shurbiyAn was made of wool. The sayfi group tied their own leather belt around the initiation cup (qadh-i shurb) and the qawlC group tied a piece of cotton and the shurbiyAn tied a piece of wool. The duwAl, or leather stirrup was one of the tools of the “ayyArAn and the professional soldiers, and because of this it was the belt of the sayfC group. Perhaps the shurbiyAn too were Sufi and used to wear wool since their belt was

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Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism made of wool. Apparently they [the shurbCs] were jawAnmardAn who had more contact with the Sufis than the qawlCs. The latter were jawAnmardAn who were unlike [both] the sayfCs [who were] professional “ayyArs, and the shurbCs [who were] Sufis. Rather the qawlCs were ascetic professional tradesmen who like other people used to wear cotton clothes.67

There is evidence in manuscripts that these groupings did in fact exist. Afsharc has edited one treatise (although the date of composition is unknown) called the futuwwat nAma-yi sipAhgarAn (soldiers’ futuwwat nAma), which says, “Whoever has fastened the duwAlC belt must memorise this treatise.”68 In another treatise dating from the Qajar period there is mention of those who wear the duwAlC belt.69 Afsharc’s theory resembles that of the scholars mentioned in previous chapters, who connect artisans and workers in the bazaar with the Malamatcs. However, Afsharc pairs the qawlCs (the ascetic, professional tradesmen) and the Qalandars: The Qalandars were divided into two groups. [The individuals] of one group were the descendants of the Malamatcs . . . , and the other group were individuals who were considered by Sufis to be outside the ring of Gnostics. Since the principals of the Malamatcs were lost, in the history of our country [Iran] we have mostly considered the Qalandars under the rubric of the second group. In truth, the individuals of this group were the descendants of the jawAnmardAn who were tradesmen and frequenters of the langar ( jawAnmardAn-i pCshawar wa langar-nishCn), and their way of life also took a Sufi colouring. To explain this in a different way, contrary to the first group who were Sufis influenced by jawAnmardC morals, [the second group] were jawAnmardAn influenced by Sufism. Their way of life was nothing other than the futuwwat way of life.70 The linkage between the Qalandars and the Malamatcs has long been noted, and indeed it was observed by famous Sufis such as Abe rafx ‘Umar Suhrawardc,71 whose opinion was later paraphrased in Persian by ‘Izz al-Dcn Kashanc,72 and also the same kind of critique was repeated by Jamc.73 Indeed the connection between the Malamatcs and futuwwat has been observed by a number of contemporary scholars, East and West.74 However, Afsharc’s theory is different because it explicitly connects the Qalandar with the futuwwat tradition. His theory is also built on the connection that he makes between another “founding father” of certain Qalandar groups and their occupation. The link is with one Quyb al-Dcn raydar Tenc, who was raised in Shirvan, but appears to have adopted an itinerant Qalandar lifestyle. There is much confusion about his life, as contemporary treatises date his death and burial in his own takiyyah in Tabriz at 830/1426–7,75 yet respected Iranian scholars

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era 135 have also linked this individual with the claim of Ibn Bayyeya that he received the khirqa in India at the tomb of Sayyid Jalal Bukharc from an individual called Quyb al-Dcn raydar some one hundred years earlier.76 The uncertainty of the date of Quyb al-Dcn raydar’s life has been compounded by a tendency among some scholars to confuse Mcr Quyb al-Dcn raydar Tenc and Quyb al-Dcn raydar Zawagc.77 Both were Qalandars but the former was raised in Shirvan and should not be confused with the latter who was a native of Zawa in Khurasan. The distinction between the two is important because of the legacy of futuwwat which Afsharc attributes to Mcr Quyb al-Dcn raydar Tenc. This connection to futuwwat is noted in the following: The raydarc Qalandar treatises which have survived from the Safavid period point to the importance of the barbers’ occupational association (Xinf-i salmAnC ). It is possible that their leader Mcr Quyb al-Dcn raydar Tenc, belonged to the barbers’ association himself since in one of the raydarc treatises from the Safavid period his name has been recorded among the pCrs, and the barbers’ utensils – the whetstone, the razor and the mirror – are related to them. Perhaps the jawAnmardAn of the barbers’ aXnAf established also the customs of the raydarc Qalandars, or perhaps in the Safavid period the jawAnmardAn of this Xinf joined together with the followers of Quyb al-Dcn raydar. In any case, the connection of the raydarc Qalandars of the Safavid period with the fatiyAn – especially the fatiyAn of the barbers’ association – is undeniable, and in truth, they themselves made up a large group of the people of futuwwat.78 Afsharc points out that the word “Tenc” in Quyb al-Dcn raydar’s name may not reflect the adjectival form of the place name “Ten” in Khurasan (and thus the confusion with Quyb al-Dcn raydar Zawagc) – as none of the sources refer to this location. Rather the word “Tenc” may be derived from the tEn (or the stove) of the bath-house, where the barbers used to work,79 which again reflects the possibility that he himself worked as a barber.80 That many raydarc Qalandars worked as barbers might not be so surprising, especially given the Qalandar practice of the four shaves (chahAr Zarb). However, it seems that there was a wide practice among the Qalandars in the Safavid period concerning shaving,81 and the word Qalandar has been used as an umbrella term that encompassed a wide variety of dervishes.82 Quyb al-Dcn raydar Tenc has received little attention from scholars of Sufism and Iranian history, and more research is required to uncover his position and legacy within these fields.83 ^aydar# Qalandars in Safavid Iran: “Sufi” Qalandars and barbers The nature of the barbers’ affiliation to the raydarc Qalandars needs to be unpacked to give a more focused picture of the barbers and the raydarc

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Qalandars. It seems clear that the latter engaged in travelling and in various activities, such as the public praise of their spiritual pCrs and the twelve Imams, but it is not clear if the barbers were these very same individuals. It is clear that the barbers’ futuwwat nAmas and those of the raydarc Qalandars paid much attention to the chahAr Zarb. Given the general antiSufi attitude of the Safavid authorities, it might have been unlikely that an individual such as a barber would want to display his Qalandar affiliation openly in the form of clearly sporting the chahAr Zarb. In fact, the chahAr Zarb may not have been used commonly by all, especially if it was an initiation ritual. It is interesting to note here that the ArbAb al-YarCq, a non-occupational-specific raydarc Qalandar text from the Safavid period, explains that the various kinds of individuals whom God draws to himself (majdhEb) are permitted to grow their hair.84 It appears that this indicates a fully fledged “Sufi” raydarc Qalandar rather than just a barber, who might have assimilated into the more conventional forms of appearance after initiation, and gradually let his “Sufi” raydarc Qalandar identity lapse by not engaging in any kind of structured Sufi ritual activity of the Qalandars. On the other hand, the distinction between the “Sufi” raydarc Qalandar and the barber may be rather false as the two may not have recognised any differentiation, but performed spiritual rituals and devotional activities together at the same place. That is to say, a barber may have engaged in the more Sufi form of Qalandar activity (travelling, public preaching, etc.) if and when he felt the need, and returned to the more sedentary lifestyle of the barber in the bath-house at other times. This possibility is all the more intriguing given the observation of Mulla sadra who lamented the attraction of the Sufis among the people, for their power was “such that craftsmen and artisans leave their jobs and follow them.”85 It is known that the Qalandars had their own bases or convents (takiyyah), and it is worthwhile speculating whether the barbers participated in the raydarc Qalandar devotions. The existence of Qalandar-specific convents is confirmed by the fact that Shah ‘Abbas donated a takiyyah in the main square of Isfahan to a Qalandar leader, Baba Sulyan Qalandar Qummc.86 In addition to the takiyyah, the barbers may also have gathered at local coffee-houses (qahwa-khAna) which they favoured. This was indeed the case with various guilds in Tehran during the Qajar period.87 The institution of the coffee-house was introduced in the Safavid period during the reign of Shah tahmasb (1524–76), and they were soon frequented by scholars, poets, musicians and Sufis,88 so the possibility that the guilds, including the barbers, had “their own” coffee-house cannot be discounted, and in such places sentiments of sodality and futuwwat may have been reinforced.89 (Caution should be exercised, however, as the number of coffee-houses in Iran in the first half of the Safavid period was limited.90 ) Although the Safavid authorities were antagonistic to the Sufi orders, the barbers and raydarc Qalandars may not have faced the same kind of hostility that orders such as the Ni‘matullahc had to cope with. One of the

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era 137 reasons for this is that the raydarc Qalandars had been Shc‘ite even before the creation of the Safavid state and the attempt to spread Shc‘-ism throughout Iran. It has been recorded that Quyb al-Dcn raydar’s followers were Twelver Shc‘ites, and curses directed at the opponents of the Twelver Shc‘ites were whispered into the ears of raydarc Qalandar initiates.91 In addition to this, the barbers traced their trade back to Salman-i Farsc who was the Persian convert to Islam who became an intimate of the immediate family of Muwammad. One can speculate that the Safavid authorities would have appreciated any pro-Persian sentiments, especially at a time when the Safavid state was attempting to distinguish itself from its Sunni Ottoman and Moghul neighbours. The rank of Salman-i Farsc in the tradition of futuwwat has long been eminent and distinguished.92 From the Safavid period onwards, Salman-i Farsc was the crucial link found in futuwwat nAmas which describe how he was girded by Imam ‘Alc at Ghadcr Khum, and was then instructed by ‘Alc to gird the other companions (the seventeen girded ones became a feature in many treatises of the Qalandars and later among the Khaksar dervishes).93 The special role that Salman played for the association of barbers was probably suggested by his name, which is very close to salmAnC, the Persian word for a barber. But specific myths were told about Salman among the guild of barbers. For example in one late Safavid era treatise, entitled “On twelve questions about the whetstone and the razor,” which indicates it was a text read by raydarc Qalandars, the tradition of shaving hair is traced back to Adam and a number of prophets, and then the whetstone and razor were given to ‘Alc, and subsequently to Salman-i Farsc. From Salman the chain is linked to all the barbers of the contemporary age, and the (initiatory) robe (kiswat) of the barbers is also traced back to him.94 Although the above has provided reasons for suggesting that the Safavid authorities had their own interests at heart in not antagonising the Qalandars, it is necessary to bear in mind that the Qalandars also had to exercise caution and not attract too much attention to themselves. This was especially the case after 1580–1 when four different movements, headed by Qalandars, arose in opposition to the Safavid authorities. While the general distaste for opposing these millenarian and messianic movements is understandable, the language used to describe the Qalandars and their supporters is quite revealing: “ignorant rustics [who] were deceived by the absurd utterances of that fool who had turned aside from the path of reason”, “[that] unintelligent group of people”;95 “hemp addicted qalandars.”96 Aside from manifesting explicit hostility, the source indicates that even though the four uprisings were rural in nature, they developed a large following (the numbers given for two of the revolts are 20,000 men and 10,000),97 and reflected the attempt to restore the principle of the murshid-i kAmil and theocratic government. One may be tempted to speculate that the revolts were possible at this time because Safavid centralisation and urbanisation had not reached the levels they were to enioy in the subsequent century, when perhaps many Qalandars adopted a more sedentary lifestyle.

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The ^aydar#-Ni»mat# conflicts One of the more disturbing aspects of Iranian history has been the communal violence that erupted sporadically throughout Iran’s major cities from the Safavid period and which lasted into the early twentieth century in some locations. A European traveller, writing in 1571, witnessed these conflicts: The people of Tabriz are divided into two groups; one is called Himicaivartu [raydarc] and the other is called Nausitai [Ni‘matc]. These groups reside in nine localities, one group in five localities and the other in four. They number about 12,000 individuals. These divisions are continually opposed and kill one another. Neither the Shah nor anyone else can prevent this because these two groups have hated each other for thirty years.98 These disputes have been the subject of much speculation among scholars as no answer has emerged to provide a definitive explanation as to their origin. Recently Shafc‘c Kadkanc has attempted to provide an answer to this mystery by identifying the origin of the raydarcs, which he places in an individual by the name of raydar, and who most probably lived at the same time as Shah Ni‘matullah Walc (d. 1430/1), the founder of the Ni‘matullahc Sufi order, and from whom the Ni‘matcs most likely originated.99 Many scholars have supposed that the raydarcs developed from the circle of followers of Quyb al-Dcn raydar Zawagc,100 but Shafc‘c Kadkanc rejects this theory,101 and suggests instead that the raydar in question was Sulyan raydar safawc who was fundamental in the creation of the Safavid dynasty. He claims that the lifetimes of Shah Ni‘matullah Walc and Sulyan raydar safawc were roughly parallel, and the conflict between their supporters reflects the Sunni (the followers of Shah Ni‘matullah Walc) Shc‘ite (followers of Sulyan raydar safavc) divide. The origin of the conflict was gradually forgotten yet the antagonism between the two sides remained and was manifested in various Iranian cities. Another possibility is that the raydar in question was Quyb al-Dcn raydar Tenc and it was descendants of his followers, the raydarcs of Safavid Iran, who were involved in the raydarc-Ni‘matc conflicts.102 This possibility is all the more intriguing given Zarrcnkeb’s observation that, The altercations between the raydarcs and Ni‘matcs . . . which apparently arose from the conflicts of the “ayyArAn and jawAnmardAn of various localities of the city, left no trace for the raydarcs of the simple, peace-seeking life of the Qalandars of old, and it is no surprise that the takiyya of Mcr raydar in Tabriz was closed at the order of Shah ‘Abbas, as it was accused of [being a centre] for corruption, and debauchery and libertinism.103

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era 139 (Unfortunately Zarrcnkeb did not cite his source for the closure of the takiyya, but it appears that it was that of Quyb al-Dcn raydar Tenc.104) The Sunni-Shc‘ite basis for the conflict that is the foundation of Shafc‘c Kadkanc’s theory also applies to Quyb al-Dcn raydar Tenc (whose Shc‘ism, as mentioned above, was quite virulent with the cursing of Sunni caliphs into the ears of novices) and Shah Ni‘matullah Walc (Sunni). However, there is reason to be cautious about the possibility of Quyb al-Dcn raydar Tenc’s role in the origins of the conflict. This is due to the inclusion of praise for Shah Ni‘matullah Walc in raydarcQalandar treatises, and his position among the “seventeen robes” (hifdah kiswat), that is, the seventeen pCrs that formed a kind of silsila for the raydarc Qalandars.105 However, it is possible that the special rank of Shah Ni‘matullah Walc was pushed to one side by the raydarcs in Iran’s cities in the Safavid period, and they viewed the Ni‘matcs chiefly as rivals. It is possible, too, that this rivalry might have been intensified by the attempt to win the backing of the Safavids; indeed, there is evidence to suggest that the conflicts were encouraged by the Safavid Shahs to promote their policy of divide and rule.106 If this was the case then Afsharc’s argument that the Safavids supported the raydarcs107 (perhaps for the latter’s pro-Shc‘ite stance) needs to be qualified, and such Safavid encouragement may have been temporary and tactical. The Ni‘matc-raydarc conflicts have been linked with the futuwwat phenomenon, as Zarrcnkeb argued that as a result of their connections with the “ayyArAn and fatiyAn, the raydarcs around Tabriz from the Safavid period onwards were connected with the lower class. Many among this lower class were later called lEYCs, and the Qalandar legacy was preserved in their ways and customs too. The connection between the raydarcs and the lEYCs may also have been the reason behind the closure of Mcr raydar’s takiyyah by Shah ‘Abbas (mentioned above).108 The justification for the closure of the takiyyah is unclear, and the connection of the raydarcs with a “low class group who were later known as lEYCs” (to use Zarrcnkeb’s expression) is not sufficient proof of any crime. However, there can be little doubt that at times the sodality of the various manifestations of futuwwat organisations did not live up to the lofty ideals that are reflected in the medieval manuals on jawAnmardC or the later treatises of the occupational associations. Indeed, Zarrcnkeb suggests that it was in the Safavid period that the Sufi form of jawAnmardC came to an end. He stated: Due to the large numbers [of futuwwat-khAnas] and the residence [in them] of young boys [and because] of the lack of discipline among the akhCs – which appear to be the reasons that they became known as lEYCs – the langars became centres of corruption, and with the emergence of the Safavids, increasing Qizilbash power and Sufis, the jawAnmardC associations were destroyed, and to a degree the class of lEYCs and mashdCs were their successors. Among the raydarc and Ni‘matc groups, and also among the Tawalla’c dervishes109 one can find the traces of this Sufism of the common people – the Sufism of futuwwat.110

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The jawAnmardAn not living up to ideal behaviour was not a phenomenon specific to the Safavid age, as an interesting episode related to one Akhc Awmad appeared in Aflakc’s “Feats of the Knowers of God” (and is related in Chapter 3), which seems to point to a territorial dispute, which in essence may have been a factor in the raydarc-Ni‘matc conflicts. As observers have noted, from the Safavid period the combatants did not know the origin of the conflict, and moreover, affiliation to one of the raydarc districts in any town or city obviously did not mean that the individual was a Qalandar or a barber. However, it may indicate that the strength of the futuwwat-inspired raydarcs must have been very considerable, at least initially to attract followers. “Sufi” literature of the ^aydar# Qalandars Stylistic features of the literature In addition to the treatises of the barbers and workers in the bath-houses, which seem to have come from those affiliated to the raydarc Qalandars, there also exists a body of literature written by raydarc Qalandars which does not indicate any specific relation to occupation. Although this literature does include passages relating to the chahAr Zarb, this does not necessarily link these treatises to occupation because the chahAr Zarb was an essential component of raydarc-Qalandar identity and ritual. I will refer to this literature as “Sufi” as opposed to “occupational” literature, although there are many common stylistic and thematic parallels between them. It is worthwhile to dwell on the similarities and differences between these two sets of literature because it should reveal more about the nature of the raydarc Qalandars during the Safavid period. In terms of stylistic similarity, both sets of literature contain the same question–answer format, which was most probably an attempt to convey the spiritual message to the widest possible audience or readership. The questions were short, and most answers were not more than a few lines in length; and the use of simple Persian suggests that the message was intended for those who may not have been educated to an advanced level. This type of literature must have suited the Qalandar practice of ma“rakagCr. Tavernier (who travelled in Iran in the seventeenth century) recorded one form of this in his description of Qalandars and their apprentices positioning themselves in the bazaar in front of shops where the elder would pose questions for the younger to answer, perhaps reciting by rote the question–answer sections that are present in so many of the occupational treatises or Qalandar texts. Although Tavernier noted that they taught the sharC “a,111 there is nothing in the Qalandar literature to suggest this was an accurate description. On the other hand, the increasing power and influence of the sharC “a and the anti-Sufi sentiment of some clerics may have induced some Qalandars to advocate a simplistic and rational, sharC “a-bound form of Islam.

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era 141 However, Sufi raydarc-Qalandar treatises exist which include a simple style, but which also bear evidence of more sophistication and literary consideration, such as the inclusion of long sections in Arabic (sometimes copious citation from the Qur’an). This is the case with the first treatise contained in FyCn-i QalandarC. These Arabic sections are usually benedictions to the prophets and the Imams,112 which may have served as prayers to be used in the ritual gatherings of the raydarc Qalandars.113 Such extensive use of Arabic indicates that the author of the treatise must have been thoroughly familiar with the Qur’an (perhaps he was a WAfiZ – someone who had memorised the whole text) – and, in addition, the appropriate usage of specific verses to describe the prophets and Imams suggests that he had not merely memorised the text. It is unclear whether other raydarc Qalandars understood these Arabic sections, and perhaps a lack of understanding of Arabic may have contributed to the sacred nature of the text (and the ritual in which the text was read) in which the sense of God’s mysterious nature, the prophets and imams are protected and preserved in a sacred aura. The important point to note is that there must have been some raydarc Qalandars who had received a good education, and this stands in contrast to the usual image of the Qalandar where the latter is subsumed within the ranks of the “popular religion of the illiterate masses” as opposed to the “high, normative and official religion of the cultural elite.”114 Despite these observations, it is still true that this sophistication in style cannot be compared to the refined style of Sufi treatises such as TuWfah-yi “AbbAsC, which includes citations from a host of Sufi and non-Sufi literary masters, and manifests a much more careful approach to structure and form.115 Another stylistic feature that distinguishes the Sufi literature of the raydarc Qalandars from the occupational literature is that the former also included much poetry, whereas the occupational literature was written mostly in simple Persian prose. The reason for the inclusion of Persian poetry may be linked to the use of this literature within ritual activity, as poetry assists in the memorisation of the written word by appealing to the aesthetic sensibilities of the audience. The first treatise of the FyCn-i QalandarC includes a range of different forms of Persian poetry. Subjects of “Sufi” Qalandar literature SHh‘-ISM AND FUTUWWAT

In their contents, the treatises of the Haydari-Qalandars reveal the strong legacy of the futuwwat and its literature. There are a number of reasons behind this assertion. First is the similarity with the style and contents of the occupational literature, which has been identified as a form of futuwwat literature by Afsharc, and, indeed, one need only refer to Kashifc’s Futuwwat nAma to verify this connection. Most explicit in this respect within the Haydari-Qalandar treatises are connections to the barbers’ trade, such as

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descriptions of the razor and the whetstone, and here there is no real difference between the occupational literature and the “Sufi” raydarc-Qalandar treatises. The occupational literature does not merely repeat or paraphrase previous works related to futuwwat, however, as one of the major contributions that the “Sufi” raydarc-Qalandar treatises offer is the pronounced proclivity towards Shc‘-ism. For example, in one treatise the reason behind the chahAr Zarb is attributed to Imam rusayn and his followers at Karbala. The followers ask for a way in which they might be differentiated from the unbelievers and the hypocrites among the dead, and the solution offered is the chahAr Zarb.116 With regard to Shc‘-ism it is worth mentioning here four short futuwwat nAmas that are now kept in Frankfurt University and which were probably intended for circulation among Qalandar Sufis. In one of these treatises futuwwat is described as the attribute of Muwammad and ‘Alc, and the essence and attributes of rasan and rusayn.117 The same futuwwat nAma concludes with a list of the twelve Imams who received walAyat and imAmat.118 These four treatises also link futuwwat with the events at Ghadir Khumm where Muwammad selected ‘Alc as his successor. In one of these treatises a story appears that reflects a certain ghuluww influence on the Qalandars, which the Shc‘ite clergy were at pains to reject.119 (This story also appears in the Futuwwat nAma-yi AmCr al-mE”minCn) and also in the AyCn-i QalandarC.)120 The prophet descended from the minbar and took the hand of ‘Alc, the Commander of the Faithful, and he drew him up to the top of the minbar. He took him into his own shirt and said, “Your flesh is my flesh and your blood is my blood.” That is to say, my flesh and that of ‘Alc, the Commander of the Faithful, is one. Someone who was in the crowd said out of jealousy, “You who have your heads coming out of one shirt and who say ‘Your flesh is my flesh and my blood is your blood ’ in other words our bodies121 are one, open up your shirt so that we can see.” The Prophet took off his shirt, and his body was one with that of the Commander of the Faithful. And then the Prophet said, “Of whosoever I am master, “AlC is also his master,” and he placed his thumb on [‘Alc’s thumb] and recited this verse from the Glorious Word: “Those who pay you allegiance are actually paying AllAh allegiance (48.10).”122 Another example of the ghulAt dimension of the Qalandars concerns the so-called “fourteen immaculate ones,” who according to normative Twelver Shc‘ite belief are the prophet Muwammad, his daughter Fayima who was ‘Alc ’s wife, and the twelve Imams. However, the “First Treatise” includes a section which commences by stating clearly, “Know that the cloak (kiswat), the outward form of the dervish (XErat), the sufra, the lamp, the horn and the shadd are forbidden (WarAm) for the person who does not know the way and the names of the fourteen pure immaculate ones.”123 The text then lists the names and identities of the fourteen along with the place of their graves.

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era 143 These fourteen were all “martyred” at the hands of those who are considered by Shc‘ite tradition to be “Sunnis,” and they are also the young children of the twelve Imams. For example, the first on the list is Muwammad Akbar (son of ‘Alc ibn abc talib), who was martyred by a blow from ‘Umar Khayyab, and his grave is in Baqi‘ (which is located in Medina). The second is ‘Abdullah, son of Haxan, who was martyred at the age of 17 by talwa ibn ‘Ax, and whose grave is also in Baqi‘. A more non-ghulAt content in which “normative” Twelver Shc‘-ism is propagated is found in the first twenty pages of the “First Treatise” in FyCn-i QalandarC.124 In this work, the first twenty pages are littered with both prayers and poetry in praise of the twelve Imams. The prayers and poems may well have been recited by the Qalandars in their rituals, such as when they were engaged in group devotional activity or in public propagation of their beliefs (ma“raka-gCrC ). The poetry is not particularly original, and on most occasions it provides nothing more than a list and mention of the twelve Imams in order, along with a few words describing their attributes.125 One particular passage lists the twelve Imams and each one is preceded by a Qur’anic verse; so for example the second Imam, rasan, is connected with 3.169, “And do not think those who have been killed in the way of Allah as dead; they are rather living with their Lord, well-provided for”;126 and Imam rusayn, “the martyr of Karbala” is linked to 76.20, “And there go around them immortal boys; when you see them, you will think that they are scattered pearls.” Such devotional works are different in tenor from the futuwwat nAma of Kashifc, whose work bears a distinct Shc‘ite stamp yet at the same time is far more restrained than the Qalandar works. Most probably Kashifc was conscious of the restrictions of working in Herat, the Sunni capital of the Timurids. The Qalandars in Safavid Iran, however, may have been encouraged to glorify the twelve Imams; yet Qalandars needed to be cautious of the danger of stepping into ghulAt territory (in spite of the fact that the episode of Muwammad and ‘Alc uniting is included in the “First Treatise”).127 How the Qalandars understood the relationship between the twelve Imams and the pCrs is not stated in the “First Treatise”; however, Kashifc mentions that three of ‘Alc ’s children were girded: rasan, rusayn and Muwammad ranifiyah. It is not recorded whether the other Imams were initiated into the tradition. However, Kashifc stated that just as the Imamate passed down to rusayn’s descendants, the tradition of girding and futuwwat was passed on to those who were girded.128 The futuwwat literature concurs from here that ‘Alc girded four individuals who spread the tradition to the then known world (see Chapter 4).129 It might have been expected that all Imams would have been masters of the futuwwat tradition, or else there might have been some explanation regarding the difference between the two spiritual realms of the Imams and the pCrs. However, there is evidence of a belief that the Imams were initiated through shaving the head, as the “First Treatise” states that ‘Alc initiated rasan through shaving, and then ‘Alc indicated to Salman

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to shave the heads of his [‘Alc ’s] companions, and then rusayn initiated his son, and the process continued down the line of the twelve Imams.130 Despite possible confusion in spiritual hierarchy (conflicting or complementing roles and authority of Imams and pCrs) the Qalandars attempted to create order and sense of the historical development of girding and futuwwat, or at least in the charter myth. Central to the order is the number seventeen, which appears on many occasions in different contexts within the literature. For example, in the “First Treatise” there is mention of seventeen prophets ( payghambarAn) from Adam to Khivr who were girded. The text then states that Khivr girded Moses, and the former was the guide for the other prophets and friends of God until the time of Muwammad. After Muwammad the legacy was passed onto ‘Ali, and then to Salman, and then to the “seventeen other companions.”131 Seventeen is also the number of pCrs among the raydarc Qalandars (see note 105), and seventeen appears in one Qalandarc treatise as the number of those companions of ‘Alc who gave their allegiance to rusayn and were killed at Karbala.132 Seventeen also plays a significant role among the ‘Ajam dervishes (who were a silsila among the Khaksar order which appears to have emerged from the raydarcs),133 as “most members of the group, just like the members of futuwwat groups were craftsmen and were considered to form seventeen guilds or technically seventeen silsilas.”134 The significance of the number seventeen does not appear to be related to any mystical numerical interpretation of numbers, and I have not been able to discover the root of its importance. However, what is significant is that the Qalandars held the number in great esteem, and it indicates their attempt to create order and sense in the world which they believed was driven by divine imperative. Another significant point related to Shc‘-ism is the practice among the Qalandars of condemning Sunnis (tabarrA”iyan) and praising the ahl-i bayt (tawallA”iyan).135 It has been argued that this practice was enthusiastically encouraged by Shah Tahmasp, and the sources indicate that the Qalandars were among those engaged in this practice. Tahmasp went so far as writing to the Sunni Ottoman caliph: We in the God-protected realms have ordered that the ritual disavowers (tabarra”iyan) and indigent dervishes (qalandaran) and the multitude of people who have been chanting the curse of the enemies of the family of the lord of the prophets and the sayyid of the guardians of the faith through cursing in the heart and aloud, from this day should count you and your followers among the accursed . . . [whom they curse] in the markets, quarters, mosques, academies and the pulpits.136 The connection between the royal court and its attempts to propagate Twelver Shc‘-ism using groups such as the futuwwat-inspired Qalandar indicates how their ideal of futuwwat became embroiled in the political intrigues of the day. It also shows how such “marginal” groups, or those considered

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era 145 popular, were able to negotiate and create space for themselves in the higher echelons of power. At the same time, the Safavid authorities probably were keen to promote the ritual cursing, as the simple and basic slogans were an effective way to channel and domesticate the ghulAt tendencies among Iranians. In addition to providing an “educational”137 service for the masses, the Safavid authorities must have been aware that it was also a display of force and power. That the unconventional and antinomian Qalandars were involved in this manifestation of power and promotion of Twelver Shc‘-ism may also have been regarded by the authorities as a success.138 Although the display of power by the Qalandars and tabarrA”iyan never seems to have developed into the “kind of sectarian fighting that is characterised in the Haydari-Ni‘mati contests,”139 it is interesting to speculate that the raydarcNi‘matc conflicts emerged from the activities of the tabarrA”iyan. Zarrinkeb has suggested that the raydarcs around Tabriz were gradually separated from other Qalandars under the influence of the tabarrA”iyan.140 He further claimed that it was the raydarc participation in tabarrA”C and tawallA”C propagation, and its associated fanaticism, that drew their activities increasingly towards the sphere of the “ayyArs and rogues.141 Yet the ideals of futuwwat stand in contrast to the shadier aspects of those engaged in ritual cursing. The tabarrA”iyan were known to have “performed the dual function of overseeing the performance of the ritual curse in the neighbourhoods and of spying on the faithful . . . and they became known for engaging in extortion, bribery and harassing rebellious Sunnites . . . for purposes of personal gain.”142 Although it seems that the practice of ritual cursing was somewhat divorced from royal patronage by the mid-Safavid period, it is likely that the Qalandars continued the ritual cursing as a part of their own ritual activity. Certainly the AyCn-i QalandarC from the time of Shah Sulcman indicates that Qalandars should undertake the ritual cursing of Sunnis and praise of the ahl-i bayt. THE SUFI NATURE OF THE LITERATURE

Shc‘-ism is linked with Sufism in the “Sufi” futuwwat nAmas; a good example of this appears in a Qalandar text in which “Bayazcd Bisyamc discovered the way (YarCqat) from his excellency Imam Ja‘far sadiq, and Bishr rafc discovered the way from Imam Mesa Kazim,”143 and Ma‘ref Karkhc was converted to Islam through Imam Riva.144 These are probably just legends, especially as Imam Ja‘far sadiq died before Basyamc was born (there is a possibility of veracity, in temporal terms at least, in the other two cases). Two of the Frankfurt treatises discuss the succession of futuwwat which was passed on by Salman-i Farsc to a number of individuals, one of whom was Dhu ’l-Nen Mixrc.145 The Sufi element of the Qalandar treatises is explicit, typified in the answer to the question, “What is the fruit of the sharC “at, YarCqat and WaqCqat?” The answer is loyalty (wafA), annihilation ( fanA) and

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subsistence (baqA ).146 Of course, the Sufi element of Qalandar treatises is paramount, and is typified in the contents of the treatise entitled ArbAb al-TarCq. The chapter headings of this work are as follows: explaining the headware (kulAh); explaining the hair of the head; explaining the fur-robe (dilq), khirqa and the patched cloak (zhanda); explaining the belt (kamarband ); explaining the walking stick (“aXA); explaining the begging bowl (kashkEl ); explaining the kadE maYbakh;147 explaining the sufra; explaining service to a Qalandar master (khAdimC); explaining the animal skin (takhta pEst); explaining sweeping up; explaining the kinds of poverty (iqsAm-i faqr).148 The titles of these chapters indicate the intertwining of futuwwat tradition with that of Sufism, and it is not surprising to see that Qalandar treatises pay much attention to the initiation ritual of girding. The link with futuwwat was explicit in this regard, as the type of initiation rites described in the first treatise of FyCn-i QalandarC repeat those that were listed by Kashifc, such as the miWrAbC, sulCmAnC, yusEfC, and khufiyya.149 Moreover, the author added, Although the tying (shadd-hA) is of one kind, more attention must be paid for the khufiyya so that his futuwwat is correct, and at the time of tying the knot (miyAn bandad ) the master of futuwwat must say, “Peace be upon you, oh people of futuwwat . . .”150 The continuity of the futuwwat initiation ritual among the Qalandar Sufis may also be witnessed in the distribution of sweatmeats (Walwa) once the girding had been completed.151 The futuwwat legacy of the “Sufi” Haydari-Qalandar literature is also evident in the rather frequent references to futuwwat or jawAnmardC as an ethical term, which are scattered throughout the texts. The following is a typical example: If they ask, “What four things must be tied up [or forbidden] by the shadd ?”152 Say, “Four things: 1. the eyes from prohibited things; 2. the ears from slander; 3. the tongue from speaking ill of people; 4. the ties of futuwwat from prohibited things.153 Aside from explicit usage of the term itself, futuwwat was played out implicitly as an ethic in much of the occupational and Qalandar literature, with the jawAnmardC image of tying and untying the shadd, which in turn reflects the initiation ceremony. Tying and untying, or permitting and prohibiting, allowed the artisans, tradesmen and Qalandars great range to propagate their worldviews. A good example of this sort of pedagogic ethic is found with reference to the twelve-peaked tAj (headgear). The author of the “First Treatise” played on the fact that the Persian word tark meant a form of headgear (or one of the peaks of a Sufi hat) and it also meant abandoning or renouncing something.

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era 147 According to some . . . each one of these [twelve] peaks represents a blameworthy action (tarkCb-i dhamCma) and there is a leaf (bargC ) for each one of these peaks – a leaf of praiseworthy [actions]. The first peak (tark) is abandoning association with God (tark-i shirk), the second peak is abandoning doubt (shakk) and the third peak is abandoning ignorance ( jahl ). Their leaves are unity (tawWCd ), certainty ( yaqCn) and knowledge (“ilm). The fourth peak is abandoning hypocrisy (riyA ), the fifth peak is abandoning sin (ma“Xiyat), and the sixth peak is abandoning attachments (ta“aluq). Their leaves are sincerity (ikhlAX), righteousness (taqwA) and love (maWabbat). The seventh peak is abandoning prohibited things (WarAm), [the eighth peak] is abandoning miserly behaviour (imsAk), and the ninth peak is abandoning greed (bukhl ). Their leaves are permitted things (WalAl ), generosity (sakhAwat) and satisfaction (riVA). The tenth peak is abandoning covetousness (Yam“), the eleventh peak is abandoning arrogance (kibr), and the twelfth peak is abandoning the witnessing of the self (khud-bCnC ). Their leaves are trust in God (tawakkul ), humility (tawAVu“) and seeing the Truth (Waqq-bCnC ).154 In addition, futuwwat is also used as an all-embracing term; thus the first treatise in FyCn-i QalandarC includes a chapter (bAb) entitled “The Futuwwat nAma of the Commander of the Faithful.”155 The contents and style of the “Sufi” Qalandar literature contain many of the features found in the occupational literature, yet the themes (such as Shc-‘ism and Sufi rituals) are developed at length, some being completely absent from the occupational literature. This can be explained by the function for which the treatises were composed: the occupational literature in the main concerned itself with the trade and the spiritualisation of the occupation, whereas the “Sufi” literature was primarily targeted at Qalandars who needed to know the Sufi beliefs and rituals and the material culture that was manifested within institutionalised Qalandarism. What is interesting about the type of “Sufi” raydarc-Qalandar literature is the emphasis on the threefold dimension of Sufism, that is, the sharC“at, YarCqat and WaqCqat. This is a feature in all of the “Sufi” literature that has been investigated in this chapter. Such strict observance of “normative” Islam by the Qalandars in Safavid Iran stands at odds with the “drinking wine and fornicating” as described earlier by the Russian traveller Kotov. The discrepancy may be explained by the possibility that Kotov witnessed another silsila of Qalandars in Isfahan, or else had come across some raydarc Qalandars who did not meet the Qalandar ideals as set out in the literature. Related to this point is that in the raydarc-Qalandar literature there is no mention of the use of narcotics, for which the Qalandars in general became notorious.156 There is also the possibility that the respect paid to the sharC“at in the Sufi Qalandar literature was merely formal, and that in practice the Qalandars were not concerned with observing the boundaries set in Islamic law.

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Although it was stated above that the literature was primarily aimed at those with little or no education, it is also true that some of the literature displays evidence that it was composed by a learned person (typified by the “First Treatise” in which there is much Qur’anic citation and use of Arabic). However, the treatises were still relatively non-sophisticated if compared with the philosophically tinged writings of other Sufi sympathisers, which contained ““irfAnC ” terminology, such as the writings of Mcr Damad, Shaykh-i Baha’c and Mulla sadra, or even popular Sufi literature such as the TuWfah-yi “AbbAsC.157 Yet the “Sufi” raydarc-Qalandar treatises and for that matter the occupational literature suggest that they should not be included within the “low” religion that was sometimes applied to the Qalandars. According to Arjomand, Mulla sadra posed “as the spokesman of ‘high’ Sufism” and he fulminated “against the ‘low’ sefism of the Qalandars whose ignorance, thaumaturgy and charlatanry, worldliness, and orgiasticism [he] vehemently denounced.”158 The treatises of the raydarc Qalandars bear no resemblance to the critiques of Mulla sadra. Indeed, it seems more appropriate to locate the raydarc-Qalandar and occupational literature in between the “high” and “low” manifestations of religion.

Kh1ks1rs Introduction With the anti-Sufi onslaught of the Safavids most institutionalised Sufi groups and orders either left Iran, or conformed to the demands of the Safavid state. The tradition of Sufi-futuwwat was most probably not unaffected, as the futuwwat literature in the post-Safavid period displays no evidence of the kind of treatises that were composed in the medieval and Timurid periods. This does not mean the termination of Sufi-futuwwat, for it is possible that such an ethic was subsumed within general Shc‘ite spirituality, although this speculation needs to be verified through research into the various forms of literature of eighteenth- to nineteenth-century Iran. The ethic of futuwwat (at least the idealisation of the ethic) was also continued within certain trades, although it is necessary to evaluate the extent of Sufi influence. A search through the trade (or occupational) literature of the nineteenth century is certainly desirable. Despite the attempts by the Safavids to eradicate the “excesses” of the Sufis, the Qajar period witnessed the survival of Sufism, and indeed the influence of the futuwwat tradition can be seen in the case of the Khaksar dervishes. The latter emerged in Iran after the demise of the Safavid dynasty, and their origins appear to have roots among the Jalalc Qalandar in India.159 The futuwwat legacy was manifested in the ethic of humility and selflessness which has come to characterise so much of Persian Sufism. The following are examples taken from a typical Khaksar treatise:

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era 149 If they ask how many levels are there for dervish-hood?” say, “The first is [?]160 the eye and the ear; the second is covering [people’s] faults (“ayb pEsh); third is drinking [the wine] of incapacity (“ajz nEsh); fourth is silence (khAmEsh).” In addition, they have said that there are three signs for being a dervish ( faqCrC ); first is [having] compassion, like [the compassion] of the master of those sent with a message; second is [having] generosity as deep as the ocean; third is [having] humility like the land.161 The prophet spoke to the companions. First he said to Abe Bakr, “What do you do when we give the khirqa to you?” He said, “I increase [my] sincerity.” [Muwammad then] said to ‘Umar, “What do you do?” He replied, “I increase [my] justice.” [The prophet] turned to ‘Uthman and said, “What about you?” He said, “I increase [my] modesty.” Then he said to the Commander of the Faithful, the Pole of heaven and earth, the friend of the truth, “What do you do when we give [the khirqa] to you?” He said, “I increase [my] concealing [of others’ shortcomings] (sattArC ) and justice (inXAf ). I conceal the faults of God’s servants.” His Excellency the messenger said, “Gabriel has said – in the words of the Truth, most high, – ‘Whoever gave this answer is worthy of the khirqa.’ ” The khirqa was given to the most excellent Commander, peace be upon him.162 Such words highlighting the importance of compassion and forgiving others their shortcomings could settle easily into a number of treatises on futuwwat that were written by Sufis such as Sulamc, Suhrawardc, Kashifc and others, and perhaps represent a universal element within the Sufi tradition, at least within the Persian Sufi tradition. A final point that is noteworthy in this brief introduction to the Khaksars is the presence of what may be described as an unconscious understanding of Persian nationalism. Consider the following intriguing passage which discusses the Khaksar dervish of ikhtiyArC level who wishes to engage in instruction, but must only do so in Iranian territory, and in seven cities: The first of those cities is sacred Mashhad because it is the city ( pAytakht) of ‘Alc ibn Mesa al-Riva. The second city is the royal residence of Tabrcz because it is the city and the location determined for the return (qadamgAh) of Muwammad’s family [i.e. the Mahdc]. The third city is the place of wisdom, Shcraz, because it is the city of Shah Chiragh, the elder brother of ‘Alc ibn Mesa al-Riva. The fourth city is the abode of right guidance, Ardabcl, because it is the city of Shaykh safc. The fifth city is the royal residence of Ixfahan because it is the city of Safavid kings. The sixth city is the royal residence of Qazwcn because it is the city of Prince rusayn [the son of ‘Alc ibn Mesa al-Riva].163 The seventh city is the royal capital Tehran because it is the city of the possessor of currency.164

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Ritual, literature and belief: continuity with the futuwwat tradition An analysis of the Khaksar dervishes warrants an investigation of their ritual practices and literature in order to delineate their beliefs and attachment to futuwwat, and so the following will focus on these elements of Khaksar activity. In terms of ritual, the Khaksars adopted the practice of donning the “lung of the forty individuals,”165 which was a garment that was fastened around the waist, and was certainly a symbolic element of Qalandar apparel in the Safavid period.166 Zarrcnkeb has drawn attention to the similarity of the lung and the sarAwCl (or initiatory trousers of the medieval jawAnmardAn).167 The tradition of mCyAn bastan among the Khaksar dervishes was observed, as is evident from the literature.168 The initiation also included the imbibing of a beverage ( piyAla), at least for some within the hierarchy of Khaksar dervishes who wanted to advance to the second of six ranks169 which was linked to the story of the forty individuals.170 This ritual of course may be connected with that of the shurbC initiation of the jawAnmardAn, as described by a number of authors (discussed in Chapter 3). It is significant to add at this point that the “third Risala” of FyCn-i QalandarC mentions that the dervish who imbibes the piyAla must know many things including the four shaves, which suggests a linkage of the Khaksar with the Qalandar.171 Indeed, Afsharc has argued that at the start of the Khaksar path, the dervish had to spend some time as a barber or in an associated trade.172 Certainly the Khaksar literature contains ample references to, and passages on, the whetstone and razor.173 Khaksar literature provides another parallel with the futuwwat legacy as it continued the tradition of composition in the short and simple question– answer format. The example above of the levels of dervish-hood is typical of this. As mentioned previously, this style was suitable for pedagogic purposes, as many of the Khaksar dervishes may not have had a good education, and some were culled from among the tradespeople and the bazaar. The question and answer format was a convenient way in which the Khaksar message could be learnt and conveyed to the “common” people. Zarrcnkeb has observed that Khaksar literary activity was not noteworthy, and this suggests stronger links were forged with the ordinary person, that is to say, the people who worked in the markets or in the cities (the jawAnmardAn).174 In place of composing literary works, the Khaksar dervishes engaged in reciting the virtues of the Imams (manAqib khwAnC ), which was understood as a kind of profession for [Khaksar] seekers, [and] was often limited to the chanting of popular slogans or compositions of popular literature. And [the members of ] this denomination ( firqa) which followed the tradition of virtue recitation and the tawallA and tabarrA of the start of the Safavid period, were usually from the ranks of the common people, and in truth they were the legacy . . . of the destitute classes and the lowly trades (aXnAf ).175

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era 151 The practice of virtue recitation and tawallA and tabarrA obviously links the Khaksar dervishes with Shc‘ism, and at least some of the Khaksar dervishes viewed themselves as representing mainstream Shc‘ism rather than any ghulAt variety. The following provides a good example of this: The religion of anyone who has not loved ‘Alc is incorrect, and [the religion] of anyone who has loved ‘Alc, like the common folk (YA”Cfa-yi “Amma) is worthless. The person who considers him higher than the rank of Imamat has exceeded the bounds (ghAlC ) and if he considers him lower then he has been bound at the feet (YAlC ).176 The Khaksar veneration of ‘Ali is insufficient on its own to indicate any special relationship with futuwwat. However, taken together with the stylistic features of their literature, the links with certain trades (see below) and the importance of Salman in their belief system, it is probable that the Khaksars bore the stamp of futuwwat. Salman and Muwammad were considered the originators of the Khaksar order, as the former was also included within the ahl-i bayt.177 For the Khaksar dervishes Salman was associated with the short garment that covered the lower part of the body, and in some stories this was made of green date leaves, and in others of felt.178 The garment, the tanEra, had been worn by the Qalandars and the barbers,179 and so the heritage of jawAnmardC becomes more evident here. A Qajar era futuwwat nAma written by a Khaksar dervish who was a barber testifies to the ritual and symbolic significance of the tanEra and its connection with Salman.180 «Ajam dervishes of the Kh!ks!r order One of the traditional associations of Sufis with jawAnmardC was the connection with the bazaar and certain occupations, which is evident in the writings of Kashifc (and may even have a longer history). Very little has been published about the ‘Ajam dervishes; indeed, major encyclopaedias on Islam or on Iran have not so far included entries for them.181 There is a Khaksar-‘Ajam182 treatise from the Qajar period in which the linkage of certain trades with girding is made, which is traced back to a number of specific “patron saints” who had been girded by ‘Alc.183 These occupations include barbers, water carriers, surgeons, worshippers (“AbidAn), cobblers, merchants, footmen ( farrAsh), dervishes of the ‘Ajam silsila and lEYCs, tent makers, dhikr reciters and ascetics, the generous (karCmAn), artisans (ahl-i Xan“at), the learned (“ilmdArAn), those who have memorised the Qur’an, plate and dish makers, pack saddle makers, gardeners, stone-masons, “ayyArAn and messengers, carpenters, swimmers, small store keepers, apothecarists, sweetmeat cooks, saddlers, those who call people to prayer, bath-keepers, sailors, shepherds, fur-cloak makers, tanners, book-binders, Qur’an reciters, bakers, butchers, blacksmiths, archers, people who use scales and weights, and

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singers or those with a pleasant voice for reciting.184 Although the treatise was written by a Sufi, there are no discussions about practices or mystical beliefs. It is interesting to note, however, that several Sufis are mentioned: rasan al-Baxrc is considered the patron saint of nine “families” of the ‘Ajam dervishes and the silsila of the lEYCs;185 the Indian Sufi, Abe ’l-Riva Ratan,186 is the “patron-saint” of the gardeners; and Farcd al-Dcn ‘Ayyar is discussed in connection with the apothecarists.187 (The treatise also lists the seventeen individuals who were personally girded by ‘Alc.) The ‘Ajam were also known for a special association with seventeen trades, and this number as we have seen was significant among Sufis such as the Qalandars. It seems that the ‘Ajam dervishes were not simply appropriating certain trades for their own glory, nor was it merely symbolic. The linkage between dervishes and particular trades was essential in that an ‘Ajam dervish had to be a member of one of the seventeen trades. If he was not a member of one of these then it was not permissible for him to enter the order.188 In addition, the members of the seventeen trades were all obedient (muYC “) to the order, and received their spiritual training only from ‘Ajam dervishes.189 Moreover the connection was manifested during the meeting for the ritual initiation of an aspiring dervish. At the head of the meeting sat the naqCb,190 and on his right-hand side, in descending order, sat the panegyrist (rawVa khwAn), the mE”idhdhin, the master barber, the saddler, the wrestler ( pahlawAn), the baker (shAYir nAnwA), the smith (na“lband ), and the butcher. On the left side of the naqCb, again in descending order, came the Qur’an reciter, the chAwEsh,191 the master of the bath-house, the shoe-maker, the kuhna-sawAr,192 the cook, the grocer, and the water bearer.193 In addition to these two groups of eight representatives of “guilds” came the seventeenth, who was the sAqC-yi YarCqat (or the water bearer for the order). The reason for the existence of particular trades within the seventeen is unclear. It appears that although the number seventeen was fixed, there was some degree of flexibility regarding the composition of the seventeen, which perhaps reflects the geographical importance of certain trades for the ‘Ajam.194 The special relationship of ‘Ajam dervishes with the seventeen occupations is evident in another of their activities, which was performing rhetorical competitions in coffee-houses. An ‘Ajam leader would prepare for the evening’s competition (although perhaps entertainment would be a more appropriate term to use) by fastening seventeen pieces of animal skins around the walls, and on each piece he would hang an implement associated with one of the seventeen occupations, so that they were all represented in the coffee-house. This dervish needed a rival to compete with once the coffee-house started to get busy, and the rival was another ‘Ajam dervish. As Afsharc has noted, the poetical contest involved the dervishes asking each other questions about the legends of the occupations, and the Qalandarc and dervishc rites and customs.195 The questions posed were usually framed in short poetical structures, but with distinct stylistic features, such as particular rhythms, and sometimes the poetry was composed of letters without the Arabic dots, or

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era 153 Table 5.1 Structure of initiation ceremony of ‘Ajam Sufis Chief Naqcb Qur”An, and (Qur”An) stand Master of the Banner RawVakhwAn (rhetorician) Caller to prayer Barber Saddler Wrestler Baker Smith Butcher DarwCsh-i mufrad (simple dervish) LisAn-i khidmat (tongue of servitude)201 DarwCsh bC kiswat (dervish without a cloak) God’s creatures

[12] MajallA (licence)196 [11] SandalC (chair)197

Free dervish, teaching pCr Qur’an reciter

[10] Sang-i qinA“at (stone of contentment)198 [9] KitAb (book) [8] Rashm-i katCba chihiltAr (illustrated shawl)199 [7] ChihiltAr200 [6] “AXA (walking stick) [5] IWrAmC (shroud) [4] KashkEl (begging bowl) [3] TabarzCn (axe)

Caravan leader Master of the bath Master shoe maker

[1] TAj with twelve pleats

Kuhna sawAr Master chef Grocer Vendor of water (saqqA ) Soldier (darwCsh-i qazAwat) LisAn-i parwAzC (tongue of flight)202 Dervish without a cloak

The water bearer of the order

God’s creatures

[2] Sufra-yi Ya“Am (tablecloth)

without the first letter of the alphabet (alif ), and the rival was obliged to reply in the same style. Although it has been said that the poetry was rather crude and simple and lacking in the sophistication of the so-called great masters, nevertheless, it must have required great imagination and talent to excel in this form of rhetorical competition. If the dervish was not able to provide an answer to the question posed, then he was obliged to hand over one of his shirts or one of his Sufi implements to his challenger. Mawjeb noted the change in the type of questions posed at the time of the Constitutional Revolution of 1906 during these sukhanwarC contests. He commented that the questions prior to the revolution were specific to religion, whereas after the revolution they were related to astronomy, and new European words appeared in the poetry, reflecting the interests of the emerging classes who were receiving an education that was somewhat different from that of the previous generation. It perhaps also reflects the weakening of Sufism with the onslaught of rationality and modern science, and the loosening of traditional forms of various societal structures (such as the centralisation of occupational groupings) through greater mobility and knowledge. The links of the ‘Ajam dervishes with the bazaar are clear, and for the first time there is an explicit linkage with the tradespeople and artisans, which has been suggested since the emergence of Sufism in Khorasan. The

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tantalising similarities between the raydarc Qalandars and the occupational literature of the barbers and other trades suggest that they both inherited the legacy of Sufi-futuwwat, and this was preserved up to the twentieth century by the Khaksar dervishes. The scope of Sufi-futuwwat declined with the rationalising tendencies, new intellectual movements, and a host of socio-economic transformations that occurred in the twentieth century. The next chapter will allude to some of these, and trace how the concept of futuwwat has fared in an institution that prides itself for its adherence to jawAnmardC, namely, the zErkhAna.

Notes 1 See for example, Roger Savory, Iran Under the Safavids, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980, pp. 1–26. 2 Cited by Savory, Iran Under the Safavids, p. 24, describing the impressions of a contemporary Venetian merchant. 3 On this see Kathryn Babayan, Mystics, Monarchs, and Messiahs: Cultural Landscapes of Early Modern Iran, Cambridge, MA: Harvard Center for Middle Eastern Studies, 2002, pp. 121– 60, in which she discusses the controversy over the AbE MuslimnAma, which contained distinct messianic features. Messianic movements existed in the period leading up to the Safavid period and into the seventeenth century. It is possible to cite the Nerbaksh movement, Shah Isma‘cl himself, Darvish Khusrau and Darvish Riva as examples of this. See also Kathryn Babayan, “Sufis, Dervishes and Mullas: The Controversy over Spiritual and Temporal Dominion in Seventeenth Century Iran,” in Charles Melville (ed.), Safavid Iran, London: I.B. Tauris, 1996, p. 131. That messianic ideas were prevalent in Safavid Iran is also indicated in the episode surrounding the Qalandar Sufi, Keh Gcluya, who passed himself off as Isma‘cl II (who had died in 1578). Several individuals had claimed that Isma‘cl had gone into concealment and would re-appear (like the Mahdc ). See Said Amir Arjomand, “Religious Extremism (Ghuluww), sefism and Sunnism in Safavid Iran: 1501–1722,” Journal of Asian History, 15(1), 1981, p. 21. 4 Seyyid Husayn Nasr, “Religion in Safavid Persia,” Iranian Studies, VII(1–2), 1976, p. 272. 5 Hamid Algar, “Observations on Religion in Safavid Persia,” Iranian Studies, VII(1–2), 1976, pp. 287– 92. 6 Terry Graham, “The Ni‘matullahc Order Under Safavid Suppression and in Indian Exile,” in Leonard Lewisohn and David Morgan (eds), The Heritage of Sufism: Late Classical Persianate Sufism (1501–1750), Oxford: Oneworld, 1999, p. 165. 7 Tadhkirat al-MulEk, Facsimile with Translation and Commentary, Vladimar Minorsky, London: Luzac & Co., 1943, p. 55. 8 Savory, Iran Under the Safavids, p. 236. 9 Tadhkirat al-MulEk, p. 83. 10 Leonard Lewisohn, “Sufism and the School of Ixfahan,” in Lewisohn and Morgan, The Heritage of Sufism, p. 77. 11 Andrew Newman, “Sufism and Anti-Sufism in Safavid Iran: The Authorship of the radcqat al-Shc‘a Revisited,” Iran, XXXVII, 1999, p. 99. 12 Ibid., pp. 95, 105, n. 9. 13 Arjomand, “Religious Extremism (Ghuluww), sefism and Sunnism in Safavid Iran,” p. 34. 14 Newman, “Sufism and Anti-Sufism in Safavid Iran,” p. 96.

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era 155 15 For the controversy of the AbE MuslCm NAma see Babayan, Mystics, Monarchs, and Messiahs, pp. 121– 60. 16 Arjomand, “Religious Extremism (Ghuluww), sefism and Sunnism in Safavid Iran,” p. 15. 17 Ibid., p. 34. 18 Graham, “The Ni‘matu’llahc Order Under Safavid Suppression and in Indian Exile,” p. 176. 19 Some scholars such as Mcr Damad, Shaykh-i Baha’c and Mulla sadra were sympathetic to the intellectual forms of Sufism, and tried to fuse the two, indicating that the sharC “a is a necessary part of Sufism. Mulla sadra was critical of excessive forms of Sufism, “in which the popularization of Sufism and the dervish cult were perceived as creating social discord.” Babayan, Mystics, Monarchs, and Messiahs, p. 417. The sympathy of such scholars for the Sufi tradition has been dealt with by Lewisohn, “Sufism and the School of Ixfahan,” pp. 63 –134. 20 Arjomand, “Religious Extremism (Ghuluww), sefism and Sunnism in Safavid Iran,” p. 27. 21 Newman, “Sufism and Anti-Sufism in Safavid Iran,” p. 95. 22 This opinion is included in his introduction to the seventh treatise in his Futuwwat nAma-hA wa rasA ”il-i KhAksAriyya, Tehran: Institute for Humanities and Cultural Studies, 1381/2003, p. 53. 23 A good example of this is the so-called “Futuwwat nama-yi saqqayan,” edited by Iraj Afshar, in Iraj Afshar (ed.), PizhEhish-hA-yi IrAnshinAsC: NAnwAra-ye Duktur MaWmEd AfshAr, vol. VII, Tehran, 1372/1993 – 4, pp. 3887–94. 24 Mihran Afsharc, “Sih futuwwat nama,” in Iraj Afshar, PizhEhish-hA-yi IrAnshinAsC, p. 3871. 25 “Futuwwat nama-yi saqqayan,” p. 3888. 26 The sufra is a large cloth which can be used for a variety of purposes. It can serve as a table cloth, and it can provide a surface for work which is clean and free of impurities. 27 Afsharc, “Sih futuwwat nama,” pp. 3876 –7. 28 In the passage cited above, the sentence which reads, “If they ask, ‘What does the pot say when it boils?’ Say, ‘It says, “Oh key to happiness,” ’ may also be translated as, “ ‘What does one say when the pot boils?’ Say, ‘One says, “Oh key to happiness.” ’ ” This second possible translation obviously negates the Sufi connotations, but I believe it is wrong to render the sentence in this way, because later on in the same passage there is the reference to the lid, in which the sentence must be translated as, “If they ask, ‘What does the lid say?’ (Sar pEsh chih mC-gEyad?) Say, ‘Oh Majesty, oh Compeller’ ” (Bi-gE, mC-gEyad, yA wAWid yA sattAr). 29 Mehdi Keyvani, Artisans and Guild Life in the Later Safavid Period: Contributions to the Social-Economic History of Persia, Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Verlag, 1982, p. 37. 30 Willem Floor, “The Guilds in Iran – an Overview from the Earliest Beginnings till 1972,” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft, 125, 1975, p. 102. 31 Ibid., p. 99. 32 See, for example, “Futuwwat nama-yi Amcr al-Me’mincn,” in Afsharc, Futuwwat nAma-hA wa rasA”il-i KhAksAriyya, pp. 103 –9; see also the collection of futuwwat nAmas in the library of the University of Frankfurt, in Afsharc, ibid., pp. 111– 39. A futuwwat nAma with the same title (but different contents) is included in the collection of articles written by Muwammad Ja‘far Mawjeb, AdabiyAt-i “AmmiyAna-yi IrAn, rasan Dhu al-Faqarc (ed.), Tehran: Chishma, 1382/2003–4, pp. 725 –37.

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33 “Futuwwat-nama-yi chct sazan,” in Murtiva sarraf (ed.), RasA”il-i jawanmardAn, Tehran: Institut Français en Iran (2nd edn), 1991, pp. 225–39. 34 Treatises for butchers, cobblers, cooks, barbers and masseurs are found in Afsharc, Futuwwat nAma-hA wa rasA”il-i KhAksAriyya. 35 Treatises for messengers, felt-makers, bakers, cloth makers, skinners and bath attendants are found in Mihran Afsharc, ChahArdah risAla dar bAb-i futuwwat wa aXnAf, Tehran: Nashr-i chishma, 1381/2002–3. 36 “Risala-yi tcrandazc wa kamandarc,” edited by Mihran Afsharc, in Katayen Mazdaper (ed.), SurEsh-i PCr-i MughAn: YAd-nAma-yi JamshCd SurEshiyAn, Tehran: Intisharat-i Suraya, 1381/2002–3, pp. 459–65. Caution needs to be observed with this treatise as the manuscript exists in a library in Pakistan, suggesting that it emerged in Moghal India. The nature of futuwwa in Iran and India, and the differences and similarities between them, have not yet been studied. 37 “Futuwwat nama-yi sipahgaran,” edited by Mihran Afsharc, in YAd-i BahAr, ‘Alc Muwammad raqq-Shinas (ed.), Tehran, 1376/1997–8, pp. 85–9. The manuscript of this treatise exists in Pakistan, so once more the significance of the text in the Iranian context must be questioned. Nevertheless, there are indications within the text (which will be discussed below) that the author was well aware of the traditions of futuwwa which date back to the text composed by Zarkeb. 38 “Futuwwat nama-yi saqqayan,” edited by Iraj Afshar, in Afshar, PizhEhishhA-yi IrAnshinAsC, pp. 3887–94. 39 Keyvani, Artisans and Guild Life in the Later Safavid Period, pp. 54–5. 40 “Futuwwat-nama-yi chct sazan,” in sarraf, RasA”il-i jawanmardAn, pp. 226–39. Although the date of this treatise is unclear, it is likely that it was composed around the Safavid period, as the text mentions rafiz-i Shcrazc who died in 1389, and no other recognisable person is mentioned after this date. The treatise may have been composed in Mashhad, as it concludes that it was written on account of Master Muwammad of Mashhad (p. 239). There are indications that the author (and therefore the textile workers) was Shc‘ite, as it cites Imam Ja‘far sadiq (pp. 226, 230) and regards ‘Alc as the pCr of twelve masters (p. 226) (although the twelve are not the Imams, but masters of chCt sAzC, yet the parallels of these numbers may be significant). 41 Kashifc does not use this expression to refer to the four archangels, although he does associate them with the origin of girding. Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC, M.J. Mawjeb (ed.), Tehran: Bunyad-i Farhang-i Iran, 1971, p. 104. 42 The father is most likely the same as Kashifc’s “father of the oath to Allah” who brings the aspiring fatA to the covenant of futuwwa (FNS, pp. 94–5). He does not mention any of the other three. 43 “Futuwwat-nama-yi chct sazan,” p. 232. 44 Ibid., p. 232. 45 Keyvani, Artisans and Guild Life in the Later Safavid Period, p. 209. 46 Babayan, “Sufis, Dervishes and Mullas,” p. 120. 47 “Dar Bayan-i Khabbazan,” in Afsharc, Futuwwat wa aXnAf, p. 160. 48 Ibid., pp. 161–2. 49 For example, see the various treatises edited by Afsharc in Futuwwat wa AXnAf, including “Risala-yi Shayiran,” pp. 131–3, “Risala-yi Qaxxaban wa Sallakhan,” p. 175, and “Risala-yi Gulabiyan,” p. 234. 50 For more of the myth surrounding Jawanmard Qaxxab see Afsharc, FyCn-i jawAnmardC, pp. 65 –9. Jawanmard Qaxxab is mentioned in Kashifc’s Futuwwat nAma, but the famous episode in which an old Jewish woman refused to accept his meat continued to be related into the Qajar period. See, for example, “Risala-yi qaxxaban wa sallakhan,” in Afsharc, Futuwwat wa AXnAf, pp. 187–8.

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era 157 51 The treatises recommend that the fatA should carry out the rulings of the sharC “at, YarCqat, WaqCqat and ma“rCfat; see, for example, “Futuwwat nama-yi Kafsh dezan” (Futuwwat nAma of the cobblers), in Afsharc, Futuwwat nAma wa RasA”Cl-i KhAksAriyya, p. 60. See also “Futuwwat nama-yi yabbakhan” (Futuwwat nAma of the cooks), in Afsharc, Futuwwat nAma wa RasA”Cl-i KhAksAriyya, pp. 66 –7, 71; and “Futuwwat-nama-yi chct sazan,” p. 235, which discusses the frame (qAlib) – which may have been a tool used in this craft – being composed of the four pillars of sharC “at, YarCqat, WaqCqat and ma“rCfat. 52 “Futuwwat nama-yi Kafsh dezan” (Futuwwat nAma of the cobblers), in Afsharc, Futuwwat nAma wa RasA”Cl-i KhAksAriyya, p. 60. 53 Gabriel Baer, “Guilds in Middle Eastern History,” in M.A. Cook (ed.), Studies in the Economic History of the Middle East, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1970, p. 16. (The German reads, “with other embryonic movements in the guilds.”) 54 Keyvani, Artisans and Guild Life in the Later Safavid Period, p. 63. 55 Tadhkirat al-MulEk, pp. 81, 83. 56 Keyvani, Artisans and Guild Life in the Later Safavid Period, p. 67. 57 Ibid., p. 53. 58 Shafc‘c-Kadkanc, Qalandariyya dar tArCkh, p. 80. For references to Qalandar in early Persian poetry see his “Chahra-yi Qalandar dar shi‘r-i farsc-yi ‘axr-i aghazc,” in Qalandariyya dar tArCkh, pp. 296 –302. For the Qalandar as a literary trope (in English) see J.T.P. De Bruijn, “The QalandariyyAt in Persian Mystical Poetry from Sana’c Onwards,” in Lewisohn (ed.), The Legacy of Medieval Persian Sufism, London: KNP, 1992, pp. 75–86; see also Katherine Pratt Ewing, “The Qalandar as Trope,” in her Arguing Sainthood: Modernity, Psychoanalysis and Islam, Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1997, pp. 230– 52. 59 Shafc‘c-Kadkanc, “Chahra-yi Qalandar dar athar-i ‘Ayyar,” in Qalandariyya dar tArCkh, pp. 307–13. 60 Ibid.; “‘Iraqc wa rah-i Qalandar,” in Qalandariyya dar tArCkh, pp. 320–3. 61 Ahmet Karamustafa, God’s Unruly Friends: Dervish Groups in the Islamic Middle Period 1200 –1550, Oxford: Oneworld, 2006, p. 33. 62 Ibid., p. 3. 63 Shafc‘c-Kadkanc, “Jamal al-Dcn Sawc,” in Qalandariyya dar tArCkh, pp. 232–5; Karamustafa, God’s Unruly Friends, pp. 39 – 44. 64 Ibid., “Quyb al-Dcn raydar Zawagc,” in Qalandariyya dar tArCkh, pp. 214–27; Karamustafa, God’s Unruly Friends, pp. 44 – 6. 65 Karamustafa, God’s Unruly Friends, p. 46. 66 Keyvani, Artisans and Guild Life in the Later Safavid Period, p. 54. 67 Afsharc, Futuwwat nAma wa RasA”Cl-i KhAksAriyya, p. 35. 68 “Futuwwat nama-yi sipahgaran,” edited by Afsharc, p. 87. 69 “Futuwwat nama-yi dallakan,” in Afsharc, Futuwwat nAma wa RasA”Cl-i KhAksAriyya, p. 97. 70 Mihran Afsharc, in Mcr ‘Abidcnc and Afsharc, FyCn-i QalandarC, Tehran: Intisharat-i Fararawan, 1374/1995 – 6, p. 47. 71 “Qalandariyya refers to peoples who are under the influence of spiritual tasting and intoxication of the heart to the degree that they try to corrupt the usual customs and free [themselves] from attending to the correct manners when in gatherings and association with people. Because they like to spend pleasant time wandering around the fields of the heart, their performance of prayer, fasting, and the other prescribed duties is little. They have no fear in enjoying worldly pleasures – which are permissible (mubAW) and for which the law has given a dispensation. They do not pay attention to the more arduous duties, and they give themselves more dispensations. They persist in rejecting hoarding and

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Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism accumulation and the desire to have more. They do not regard themselves in the same fashion as worshippers, the poverty stricken or the ascetics. They are satisfied that they are happy in their heart with their God. The difference between the Malamatc and the Qalandar is that the former strives to conceal his acts of devotion while the latter attempts to destroy the custom” (taken from the ninth chapter of Suhrawardc ’s “AwArif al-ma“Arif; cited in Shafc‘c-Kadkanc, Qalandariyya dar tArCkh, p. 138). Kashanc, MiXbah al-WidAyat wa miftAh al-kifAyat, edited by Jalal al-Dcn Huma’c, Tehran: Bunyad-i farhang-i Iran, 1350/1971–2, pp. 121–2. Jamc stated, “With regard to the kind of men we call qalandari today, who have pulled from their necks the bridle of Islam, these qualities of which we have just spoken are foreign to them, and one should name them hashawiyya” (cited by J.S. Trimingham, The Sufi Orders in Islam, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971, p. 268). For scholars writing in English see Karamustafa, Sufism: The Formative Period, p. 66; and Sviri, “rakcm Tirmidhc and the Malamatc Movement,” p. 584; in Persian see Zarrcnkeb, JustajE dar taXawwuf-i IrAn, pp. 335–57. See Ner Allah Shushtarc, MajAlis al-ME”minCn, Sayyid rusayn Tihranc (ed.), Tehran: Kitabfureshc Islamiyya, 1354/1975–6, vol. II, p. 51; Ibn Karbala’c, RawZat al-jinAn wa jannAt al-janAn, Ja‘far Sulyan al-Qurra’c (ed.), Tehran: Bungah-i tarjuma wa nashr-i kitab, 1344 –9/1965, vol. I, pp. 467–8. Zarrcnkeb, JustajE dar taXawwuf-i IrAn, p. 373. For references to this confusion, see Karamustafa, God’s Unruly Friends, pp. 118 –19, n. 25; Zarrcnkeb, JustajE dar taXawwuf-i IrAn, p. 369. Afsharc, Futuwwat nAma-hA wa RasA”il-i KhAksAriyya, p. 74. Many of the Safavid and Qajar era treatises that Afsharc has edited are indeed those related to the occupational association of barbers. See, for example, his ChahArdah RisAla dar BAb-i Futuwwat wa AXnAf, which contains six treatises related directly to the barbers’ association. See also his Futuwwat nAma wa RasA”Cl-i KhAksAriyya where there are several other treatises related to the barbers’ association. Afsharc has noted that aside from cutting hair in the bath-house, barbers were also masseurs, pulled out teeth and let blood (Futuwwat nAma wa RasA”Cl-i KhAksAriyya, p. 73). Afsharc, FyCn-i jawAnmardC, p. 72. See the second chapter, entitled “Dar bayAn-i mE-yi sar,” of a treatise entitled ArbAb al-YarCq (edited by Mihran Afsharc). This second chapter appears in Afshar, PizhEhish-hA-yi IrAnshinAsC, pp. 151–9. On the same subject see Shafc‘cKadkanc, “Abre tarashida” (Shaving the Eyebrow), in Qalandariyya dar tArCkh, pp. 74 –9. The variety of Qalandar groups in the pre-Safavid period in the Islamic world has been well documented by Karamustafa in his God’s Unruly Friends. Yet another point of confusion concerning Qutb al-Dcn raydar is that in the raydarc-Qalandar treatises of the Safavid period and the Khaksar treatises of the Qajar period there are references to Sayyid Jalal al-Dcn raydar in their silsilas (Mcr ‘Abidc and Afsharc, FyCn-i QalandarC, p. 170), which according to Zarrcnkeb appears to be a combination of Quyb al-Dcn raydar ‘Alawc and Sayyid Jalal Thanc. Zarrcnkeb claims that this Sayyid Jalal Thanc was the grandson of Sayyid Jalal Bukharc at whose tomb Ibn Bayyeya received the khirqa from Quyb al-Dcn raydar, and moreover, it is claimed that Sayyid Jalal Bukharc was a deputy of Quyb al-Dcn raydar (Zarrcnkeb, JustajE dar taXawwuf-i IrAn, p. 373). Unfortunately, the source for the relationship between the two is not given. According to Zarrcnkeb this individual, Sayyid Jalal al-Dcn raydar, was not a historical figure, but was an amalgamation of the Shc‘ite Quyb al-Dcn raydar ‘Alawc and the Sunni Jalalc Qalandar, Sayyid Jalal Thanc. The fusion of these

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two individuals was designed to provide certain Jalalc Qalandars in Iran with a safe and secure existence in the post-Safavid period (Zarrcnkeb, JustajE dar taXawwuf-i IrAn, p. 376). Zarrcnkeb located this “mistaken” identity to the late Zand or early Qajar period. But Afsharc has edited a text from the mid-Safavid period (naming Shah Sulcman, the son of Shah ‘Abbas) in which Sulyan Sayyid Jalal al-Dcn raydar appears. (See the “First Treatise” in Fyin-i QalandarC, in which Sayyid Jalal al-Dcn raydar is mentioned on pp. 82 and 106. The name raydar Tenc appears on p. 197, and Mcr raydar on p. 208.) This does not necessarily invalidate Zarrinkeb’s theory, but a fresh explanation is required for the appearance of this name in the mid-Safavid period. “Growing the hair (mE-yi sar mAndan) from the ear to the shoulder is the attribute of his Excellency [the Prophet], God’s blessings and peace upon him; more [hairlength] than this is forbidden (WarAm). And shaving (tarAshCdan) is the custom (sunnat), but [only] for the proficient (muntahA) [Qalandar] not for the novice because growing the hair is the way and choice of the abdAliyya who have drowned in the celebrated ocean and have been destroyed by the razor of majesty of divine unity (aWadiyat), [it is] not [the way] of those who are fixed in the water and grass of the earth in the ranks of they shall be punished for what they do [7.179]. Despite this they talk of the discourses and experiences of shaykh-hood and they wax lyrical about dervish-hood. They are among the liars and the verse those are the heedless ones (7.179) will be their attribute. In other words, growing the hair is good for the person who is not aware of his own hair” (“Dar bayAn-i mE-yi sar,” p. 155). Cited by Babayan, Mystics, Monarchs, and Messiahs, p. 446. Muwammad tawir Naxrabadc, Tadhkira-yi NaXrAbAd, Wawcd Dastgirdc (ed.), Tehran: Armaghan, 1317/1938, p. 284. See Muwammad Ja‘far Mawjeb, “Sukhanwarc,” in the collection of his articles, AdabiyAt-i “ammiyAna-yi IrAn, pp. 1053 – 4. In this respect Mawjeb mentions the following occupational associations: carpentry, saw working, masons, builders, bakers, butchers, shoe-makers, roof-makers and painters. ‘Alc al-i Dawed, “Coffeehouse,” Encyclopedia Iranica, vol. VI, Costa Mesa: Mazda, 1993, p. 1. See also Andrew Newman, Safavid Iran: Rebirth of a Persian Empire, London: I.B. Tauris, 2009, p. 96. It is worthwhile noting that European travellers to Safavid Iran noted that Qalandars frequented coffee-houses. Arjomand’s summary of these observations points to the Qalandars: “shaggy, ill-clad dervishes hanging out in the streets and around coffee-houses appear an element in the social scene” (Arjomand, “Religious Extremism (Ghuluww), sefism and Sunnism in Safavid Iran,” p. 21). Arjomand cites Sanson, a European traveller, who described the “dervishes or Abdals [one of the names for the Qalandars]” (see chapter two of ArbAb al-TarCq, p. 156) who preached on street corners or in coffee-houses. The particular identity of such Qalandars in unknown, but it is worth speculating that the barbers may well have also frequented coffee-houses, even “adopting” their own. Rudi Matthee, “Coffee in Safavid Iran: Commerce and Consumption,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient, 37(1), 1994, pp. 21–2. Ner Allah Shushtarc, MajAlis al-ME”minCn, vol. I, p. 82. Salman is linked with the earliest futuwwat nAmas from the period of the Caliph al-Naxir (see Chapter 3, note 42). Afsharc (ed.), “Futuwwat nama-yi panjum mawjed dar kitabkhana-yi danishgah-i Frankfurt,” in Futuwwat nAma wa RasA”Cl-i KhAksAriyya, p. 128. Afsharc (ed.), “Andar bayan-i dawazdah se’al-i sang wa tcgh,” in ChahArdah risAla dar bAb-i futuwwat wa aXnAf, pp. 254 –5. Roger Savory, “A Curious Episode of Safavid History,” in Iran and Islam: A Volume in Memory of Vladimar Minorsky, C.E. Bosworth (ed.), Edinburgh:

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Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism Edinburgh University Press, 1971, p. 466. Savory translates the episodes contained in the TArCkh-i “Alam-ara-yi “AbbAsC, written by Iskandar Bik Munshc. Savory, “A Curious Episode of Safavid History,” p. 464. Ibid., pp. 464, 466. Vincentio D’Alessandri, cited in Shafc‘c-Kadkanc, “Jang-i raydarc wa Ni‘matc” (“The raydarc wa Ni‘matc Conflict”), in Qalandariyya dar tArCkh, p. 230. This is the conclusion of John Perry. See his article, “raydari and Ne‘mati,” in Encyclopedia Iranica online: www.iranica.com Shafc‘c-Kadkanc cites the example of Dihkhuda and his Lughat-nAma entry for “raydarc.” Shafc‘c-Kadkanc, “Jang-i raydarc wa Ni’matc,” p. 228. Three reasons are provided in this regard. The first is that by the time supporters of Shah Ni‘matullah Walc appeared in Iranian history, there was no noticeable sign of Quyb al-Dcn raydar Zawagc’s followers. Second, the conflicts were specific to Iran, and if these two Sufis were its cause, then one might expect the disturbances to transcend Iranian territories, but this was not the case. Third, Shah Ni‘matullah Walc showered praise on Quyb al-Dcn raydar Zawagc in his poetry, so it is unlikely that the immediate followers of Ni‘matullah Walc or Quyb al-Dcn raydar Zawagc would have been antagonistic to each other. Shafc‘c-Kadkanc, “Jang-i raydarc wa Ni‘matc,” pp. 228–31. This is the conclusion of Hossein Mirjafari and J.R. Perry, “The raydarc-Ni‘matc Conflicts in Iran,” Iranian Studies, 12(3 – 4), 1979, pp. 139–40; John Perry, “raydari and Ne‘mati”; and also Afsharc, FyCn-i jawAnmardC, p. 72. Zarrcnkeb, JustajE dar taXawwuf-i IrAn, p. 370. Mirjafari (“The raydarc-Ni‘matc Conflict,” p. 158, n. 17) offers the same conclusion, basing his comments on the views of Ja‘far Sulyan al-Qura’c in his notes to his edition of Ibn Karbala’c’s RawZat al-JannAt (p. 597). FyCn-i QalandarC (first treatise), p. 104. The seventeen are as follows: 1. Ibrahcm Adham. 2. Sayyid Jamal Mujarrad (Sawajc ). 3. Quyb al-Dcn raydar Zawagc. 4. Shaykh Awmad Jam. 5. Qasim Anwar. 6. Shah Ghiyath. 7. Baba Sang Kehc. 8. Biktash-i Remc. 9. Mawmed Ni‘mat Pa. 10. Shah Rukn al-Dcn. 11. Shah Murtiva Damghanc. 12. Shah ‘Abdellah. 13. Shah Ni‘matellah Walc. 14. Sayyid Baba. 15. Quyb al-Dcn raydar Tenc. 16. Shaykh raydar (safawc ). 17. Shah Isma’cl safawc. It has been noted that Shah ‘Abbas decreed that his cities should be divided between the two factions to prevent the possibility of popular revolt.” See Perry, “raydari and Ne‘mati,” citing Tadeusz Judasz Krusinski, The History of the Late Revolutions of Persia, London, 1740, vol. I, pp. 91–3. Afsharc, FyCn-i jawAnmardC, p. 72. Zarrcnkeb, JustajE dar taXawwuf-i IrAn, p. 370. TawallA”C dervishes are discussed below. Zarrcnkeb, Arzish-i MCrAth-i SEfiyya, Tehran: Amcr Kabcr (6th print), 1369/ 1990 –1, p. 171. Jean-Baptiste Tavernier, Les Six Voyages de Jean-Baptiste Tavernier, vol. II, p. 117, cited in Babayan, Mystics Monarchs, and Messiahs, pp. 443, 474, n. 15. FyCn-i QalandarC (first treatise), pp. 98 –102. See the long prayer (du”A) in the “First Treatise,” FyCn-i QalandarC, in which there is much Qur’anic citation (pp. 92– 6). See Karamustafa, God’s Unruly Friends. The citations are from p. 5, but the whole section entitled “Historiography” is extremely enlightening (pp. 4–11). Shaykh Muhammad ‘Ali Mu’adhdhin Sabzawarc Khurasanc, TuWfah-yi “AbbAsC: The Golden Chain of Sufism in ShC “-ite Islam, translated by Mohammad H. Faghfoory, New York: University Press of America, 2008. “Dar bayan-i asbab-i chahar zarb,” in “Daw risala-yi qalandarc wa darwcshc,” Mihran Afsharc (ed.), in PizhEhish-ha-yi IrAnshinAsC, vol. 15, Tehran, 1384, p. 90.

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era 161 117 118 119 120 121 122

123 124

125 126 127 128 129 130 131

132 133 134 135

136 137 138

139 140 141 142 143

See Afsharc, Futuwwat nAma wa RasA”Cl-i KhAksAriyya, p. 112. Ibid., pp. 113 –14. Ibid., p. 121. Mawjeb, “Futuwwat nama-yi Amcr al-me’mincn,” in AdabiyAt-i “ammiyAna-yi IrAn, p. 731; FyCn-i QalandarC (first treatise), pp. 130 –1. The word in the text is sh.w.m., but it makes more sense to read sh.k.m. (shikam) or stomach (that is, the torso). Mawjeb, “Futuwwat nama-yi Amcr al-me’mincn,” in AdabiyAt-i “ammiyAna-yi IrAn, p. 731. It is worth comparing the ghuluww tone of this citation with the more “sober” version that is present in Kashifc ’s Futuwwat nAma which offers a more symbolic rendition of this tradition (FNS, p. 120). FyCn-i QalandarC (first treatise), p. 209. Ibid., pp. 79 –213. The form of this treatise is difficult to define. It is composed of a number of disparate sections, some with apparently no connection to the preceding or subsequent sections. It is as if a Qalandar came across a bundle of short treatises, letters and prayers and simply copied them out in the form of a “treatise.” An alternative explanation has been suggested to me by Mihran Afsharc (in a private communication), that the treatise reflects the “majlis” or sessions of the Qalandars, and that one of the Qalandars simply wrote out whatever passed in the majlis. FyCn-i QalandarC (first treatise), pp. 81, 84, 87– 8. Ibid., p. 89. Ibid., p. 131. FNS, p. 122. For example, FNS, p. 122; “First Treatise,” FyCn-i QalandarC, pp. 132–3. “First Treatise,” FyCn-i QalandarC, p. 170. Ibid., p. 129. There is some discrepancy about who these seventeen individuals are. For example, Kashifc gives a list of seventeen who were girded by ‘Alc (FNS, p. 132), whereas the “First Treatise”, FyCn-i QalandarC, includes many of these individuals in a list of seventeen who were girded by Salman (p. 132). “Daw risala-yi Qalandarc wa darwcshc,” p. 95. Mihran Afsharc, “Firqa-yi ‘Ajam wa sukhanwarc,” in FaZlnAma-yi hastC, Tehran: Spring, 1374/1995 – 6, p. 143. Ibid. During the Safavid period tawallA”Cyan dervishes were those who propagated Twelver Shc’ism in the streets and alleys by reciting prayers and poetry. Aspects of this can be found within the Qalandar literature: see, for example, “First Treatise,” FyCn-i QalandarC, where there are sections on TawallA”C (pp. 109, 119, 122–3) and TabarrA”iyan which was the cursing of Sunnis (pp. 109, 116, 118, 122–3). See also Rosemary Stanfield-Johnson, “The Tabarra’iyan and the Early Safavids,” Iranian Studies, 37(1), 2004, pp. 47–71. Cited in Stanfield-Johnson, “The Tabarra’iyan and the Early Safavids,” p. 51. It seems that the slogans were of a populist nature, and perhaps involved simple lists of those to be cursed or praised. It should be noted, however, that it is not clear which Qalandars were involved in tabarrA” promotion, as it is possible that it may not have been the raydarcs but another group of Qalandars. Yet raydarc texts do mention engaging in tabarrA”C and tawallA”C activities. Stanfield-Johnson, “The Tabarra’iyan and the Early Safavids,” p. 67. Zarrinkeb, JustajE dar taXawwuf-i IrAn, p. 370. Ibid., p. 369. Stanfield-Johnson, “The Tabarra’iyan and the Early Safavids,” p. 48. See the second treatise in Afsharc, “Daw risala-yi Qalandarc wa darwcshc,” p. 97.

162 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154

155 156

Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism Ibid. Afsharc, Futuwwat nAma wa RasA”Cl-i KhAksAriyya, pp. 123, 137. FyCn-i QalandarC (first treatise), p. 115. The kadE maYbakh was a pumpkin that served as a kind of begging bowl. See Shafc‘c-Kadkanc, Qalandariyya dar tArCkh, p. 276. For more information on this manuscript treatise see Mihran Afsharc, “Qalandarnama-yi ArbAb al-YarCq,” in Afshar, PizhEhish-hA-yi IrAnshinAsC, Vol. 13 (Tehran, 1381), pp. 151– 9. FyCn-i QalandarC (first treatise), p. 133. Ibid., p. 133. Ibid., pp. 132, 141. Compare with FNS, pp. 128–30. The shadd was a sash that was tied around the waist and used in the ceremonies and rituals of futuwwat. FyCn-i QalandarC (first treatise), p. 109. Ibid., p. 177. This quote is part of a relatively lengthy discussion about the tAj (or headgear), which is probably the Sufi twelve-sided tAj (an illustration of this was included in Nicolas de Nicolay Daulphinoy’s impressions of life in Ottoman Turkey in the sixteenth century which contained illustrations of various dervishes, including Qalandars, and is included in Karamustafa, God’s Unruly Friends, p. 50). The image in Daulphinoy shows a “qalandar” sporting a conical hat which seems to have had twelve peaks (six are clearly visible in this side-on picture). The Danish observer of Safavid Iran, Engelbert Kaempfer, mentions that the raydarcs (as opposed to the Ni‘matcs) wore “a five-scalloped turban made from an old rag, and a cape of untanned sheepskin; in one hand they carry a staff, and in the other a horn” (cited by Mirjafari and Perry, “The raydarcNi‘matc Conflicts in Iran,” p. 146). Some of this description fits well with the “Sufi” Qalandars. Interestingly, the twelve-peaked hat is also mentioned by Kashifc (FNS, p. 184). However, there is no reference to who might have worn this headgear. The Sufi twelve-sided tAj should not be confused with the qizilbAsh headgear, illustrations of which show a turban, upon which sits a twelve-sided, tall, thin minaret-shaped cylinder. (Illustrations of this can be found in Cornelius de Bruyn’s Travels into Muscovy, Persia and Parts of the East Indies, 1737, and have been reproduced in Savory, Iran under the Safavids, p. 19. Savory recounts that the qizilbAsh tAj was devised by Shah Isma‘cl’s father, raydar, after being instructed by ‘Alc in a dream, around the year 1488 (ibid.). Chardin also included an illustration of a qizilbAsh soldier, sporting his distinctive headgear, which has been reproduced in Lewisohn and Morgan (eds), The Heritage of Sufism, vol. III, p. 21.) Ibid., pp. 142– 6. The same treatise is also included in Afsharc, Futuwwat nAma wa RasA”Cl-i KhAksAriyya, pp. 103 –9. See Shafc‘c-Kadkanc, Qalandariyya dar tArCkh, pp. 340–44; Karamustafa, God’s Unruly Friends, pp. 19 –20. It is worth noting that Sir John Chardin who was in Iran between 1673 and 1677 has a long passage about the various types of narcotics that were used in Iran, in which he discusses “bueng” or bang. He does not mention the Qalandars specifically as taking bang, he merely comments that “none but the Scum of the People drink of it, especially the Beggars, and Mumpers; they never miss taking of it once a Day, except upon a Journey, for then they take it three or four times a Day” (Travels in Persia, New York: Dover Publications, 1988, p. 246). Chardin observed that the use of narcotics in Iran was common, and that “out of ten Persons, you shall not find one clear from that ill Habit [of taking ‘poppy pills’]” (p. 244). Although Chardin’s writings do not provide conclusive evidence to associate Qalandars with bang, there are Persian miniatures that depict Sufis (Qalandars?) preparing and taking the substance. See for example the image found in the British Museum, catalogue number AN

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157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165

166 167 168 169

170

171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178

353740001. An almost identical miniature is reproduced in Babayan, Mystics, Monarchs, and Messiahs (see illustrations at the back of her book). The image is from the Read Albums, MS M.386 f. 6v, and is reproduced from the Pierpont Morgan Library, New York. Sheikh Muhammad ‘Ali Mu’adhdhin Sabzawarc Khurasanc, TuWfah-yi “AbbAsC. Arjomand, “Religious Extremism (Ghuluww), sefism and Sunnism in Safavid Iran,” pp. 27– 8. Zarrcnkeb, JustajE dar taXawwuf-i IrAn, p. 376. This is confirmed by Khaksar treatises, such as the “Third Treatise,” in Afsharc, FyCn-i QalandarC, p. 388. The verb is missing from the text. The verb most likely rhymed with the following verbs: pEsh, nEsh, and khAmEsh. “Risala-yi yarcqat-i Sayyid Jalal al-Dcn raydar,” in Afsharc, Futuwwat nAma-hA wa rasA”il-i KhAksAriyya, p. 183. Ibid., pp. 176 –7. This is probably a reference to the rusayn who was the son of the Eighth Imam. His tomb is located in Qazvin and drew (and still does draw) pilgrims. “Wasclat al-Nijat” (written by Mashhadc Muwammad Mihdc Tabrczc, in Afsharc, Futuwwat nAma wa RasA”Cl-i KhAksAriyya), p. 286. In the Qalandar tradition, the forty individuals were those for whom Muwammad gave a lung to cover their nakedness during his night ascent. Moreover, the prophet also made a sherbet from a grape seed for them. This story is included in ArbAb al-TarCq (see Afsharc, Futuwwat nAma-hA wa rasA”il-i KhAksAriyya, p. 69, n. 9). It is repeated in verse in the “Third Treatise,” FyCn-i QalandarC, pp. 278–9. “First Treatise,” FyCn-i QalandarC, p. 162. Zarrcnkeb, JustajE dar taXawwuf-i IrAn, p. 376. See for example the sixth section entitled “Explaining mCyAn bastan,” in “Risala-yi yarcqat-i Sayyid Jalal al-Dcn raydar,” p. 187; see also the section entitled “Kamar bastan,” in the “Third Treatise,” in Afsharc, FyCn-i QalandarC, p. 318. The hierarchy started with lisAn, or tongue (which perhaps bears some connection with the medieval qawlC initiate of the jawAnmardAn (Afsharc, FyCn-i jawAnmardC, p. 76), and follows in the following order: pCyAla (when the dervish can wear the lung and receives the initiatory sherbet from his pCr); kiswat; gul sipurdan; “entrusting the walnut to Sayyid Khandan” ( jawz-rA bi sayyid KhAndan sipurdan); and “giving the lung of instruction and the love of God” (lung-i irshAd wa “ishq-allAh dAdan). Ner al-Dcn Mudarissc-Chahardahc, KhAksAr wa Ahl-i Raqq, Tehran: Ishraqc, n /d, pp. 12– 60. For more on this see rusayn Munajjamc, MabAnC-yi SulEk dar Silsila-yi KhAksAr-JalAlC wa taXawwuf, Tehran: Taban, 1379/2000–1), pp. 128 –57. See note 165. The names of these individuals are given by Ner al-Dcn Mudarissc-Chahardahc, KhAksAr wa Ahl-i Raqq, p. 19. See also “Third Treatise,” FyCn-i QalandarC, p. 293. These names are very “Shc‘ite,” and reflect the denominational stance of the Khaksar. “Third Treatise,” FyCn-i QalandarC, p. 256. Afsharc, FyCn-i jawAnmardC, p. 75. “Third Treatise,” FyCn-i QalandarC, pp. 310, 325. Zarrcnkeb, JustajE dar taXawwuf-i IrAn, p. 378. Ibid., p. 378. “Third Treatise,” FyCn-i QalandarC, p. 259. Ibid., p. 255. Ibid., pp. 268, 325. This association predates the Khaksar dervishes and can be found in the literature of the Qalandars; see “First Treatise,” FyCn-i QalandarC, pp. 157–8, which describes the tanEra (also known as the barg or barag) of Salman being made of felt (namad ).

164 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189

190 191 192

193 194

195 196

Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism Afsharc, Futuwwat nAma-hA wa RasA”il-i KhAksAriyya, p. 93, n. 6. Ibid., pp. 89 –98. Encyclopaedias such as the Encyclopedia of Islam and the Encyclopedia Iranica. It seems that there were some ‘Ajam dervishes who did not see themselves within the general Khaksar order. See Afsharc, Futuwwat nAma wa RasA”Cl-i KhAksAriyya, pp. 282–3, n. 6. The use of trades, or occupations, reflects the title of the treatise, “Risala dar bayan-i axnaf.” “Risala dar bayan-i axnaf,” in Afsharc, Futuwwat nAma wa RasA”Cl-i KhAksAriyya, pp. 220 –5. Ibid., p. 221. An Indian Sufi: see Jamc, NafaWAt al-Uns, ed. M. ‘Abidc, p. 438. “Risala dar bayan-i axnaf,” p. 223. “Wasclat al-Nijat,” p. 290. The reason for the connection between the ‘Ajam dervishes and seventeen trades is explained in different ways. Mawjeb has reported that it was believed by those associated with the ‘Ajam that the origin lay in the Safavid period when the rulers were attempting to propagate Shc‘ism, and four dervishes received the responsibility of spreading Shc‘ism in Isfahan, and inevitably they came across stiff opposition (Muwammad Ja‘far Mawjeb, “Sukhanwarc,” in AdabiyAt-i “ammiyAna-yi IrAn, p. 1058). But seventeen individuals who represented seventeen different trades assisted them in their task. A similar story is presented in an ‘Ajam treatise from the Qajar era, but the period in which Shc‘ism came under threat is transferred to the Zand era, in particular to the Sunni reign of fzad Khan Afghan (“Wasclat al-Nijat,” pp. 280–2). Although this term appears frequently in the literature associated with futuwwat, for the ‘Ajam dervishes it referred to the individual who occupied the top rank in their order. In other words, he was the shaykh. A chAwEsh was the leader or guide of a caravan, and it was also a station in the ‘Ajam spiritual ranking. See Afsharc, FyCn-i QalandarC, pp. 318, n. 2, 359, n. 2. The kuhna-sawAr is one of the highest ranks that can be attained within the zErkhAna. It is a post usually occupied by a senior athlete, who is respected by all the other members of the institution, and displays exemplary morals and is also respected for his physical abilities. “Wasclat al-Nijat,” pp. 258–9. For example, another ‘Ajam treatise lists the following: 1. caravan leader, 2. dervish, 3. panegyrist (rawVa khAn), 4. rhetorician (sukhanwar), 5. messenger, 6. horsegroom, 7. bAbA (this was a term used by the ‘Ajam dervishes (and the Qalandars) to describe someone who had reached a particular spiritual level), 8. barber, 9. buffoon, 10. water-bearer, 11. lion-keeper, 12. rogue (lEYC ), 13. grain sifter, 14. water-pipe seller, 15. grocer, 16. wrestler, and 17. kuhna-sawAr (“Risala-yi chaharum,” in Afsharc, Fyin-i QalandarC, p. 398). Another list of seventeen guilds was offered by Muwammad Ja‘far Mawjeb (“Sukhanwarc,” AdabiyAt-i “ammiyAna-yi IrAn, p. 1060): 1. dervish, 2. panegyrist, 3. caravan leader, 4. waterbearer, 5. bAbA, 6. wrestler, 7. grain-sifter, 8. messenger, 9. night-watchman (shabraw), 10. shAYir jilaw-dAr (a guard who accompanied important persons as they travelled on horse, and who was able to advance ahead and carry or receive messages), 11. smith, 12. muleteer, 13. butcher, 14. tent-maker, 15. washer of the dead, 16. barber, 17. coffee server. “Firqa-yi ‘Ajam wa sukhanwarc,” p. 134. An example of the intimate knowledge an ‘Ajam dervish had of the barber’s trade (given in verse) can be found in Mawjeb, “Sukhanwarc,” in AdabiyAt-i “ammiyAna”i-yi IrAn, pp. 1061–2. The ‘Ajam order had a hierarchy of dervishes. In the WasClat al-NijAt the lowest rank was the child acolyte (kudak abdAlC ), and the following grades were

Futuwwat from the Safavids to the early modern era 165

197 198

199 200

201

202

soldier (ghazAwat), simple acolyte (mufrad abdAlC ), and free dervish (darwCsh-i ikhtCyArC ). Other treatises have given variations on this, for example, soldier, simple acolyte, free dervish, possessor of the banner (XAWib-i “alam), possessor of forty curls. Another treatise lists the hierarchy in the following way: acolyte, simple acolyte, butcher, free dervish, holder of the banner, assistant naqCb and naqCb. See Afsharc, “Firqa-yi ‘Ajam wa sukhanwarc,” pp. 143–4. As an ‘Ajam dervish rose through the hierarchy he would be given permission or a special grant (majallA) to indicate his progression. The majallA would be in the form of a written document (“Wasclat al-Nijat,” p. 256, n. 5), suggestive perhaps of the ijAza that Shc‘ite scholars gave to successful pupils. This chair might have been used during ma“raka-gCrC (this was a maqAm of the free dervish). See “Wasclat al-Nijat,” p. 292. This was a coloured stone, usually blue, with precious items inlaid. Dervishes would wrap this in their sash so that it settled securely against their stomach in an attempt to ward off the pangs of hunger. See “Wasclat al-Nijat,” p. 260, n. 2. See also rusayn Munajjamc, MabAnC-yi SulEk dar Silsila-yi KhAksAr-JalAlC wa taXawwuf, pp. 180 –1. The rashm-i katCba chihiltAr was a shawl that was wrapped around the shoulders, and was also sometimes tied around the waist. The chihiltAr (or “forty threads”) was a special sash or cloth that was attached to the turban or dervish felt hat. See “Wasclat al-Nijat,” p. 272, n. 6. See note 165 above, as the forty threads may be symbolic of the forty individuals associated with Muwammad’s night ascent. The ‘Ajam dervishes took an oath that they would follow and be obedient to their spiritual master. Mihran Afsharc has drawn parallels of this lisAn kishC (or verbal oath) with the qawlC oath of the jawAnmardAn. See “Wasclat al-Nijat,” p. 255, n. 7. The tongue of servitude bound the dervish to the murshid who guided him upwards on the spiritual hierarchy. See ibid., p. 257. This was another form of lisAn kishC, but the difference lay in the fact that the “tongue of flight” allowed the disciple to engage in one of the occupations of the seventeen guilds, and at the same time satisfy his spiritual master. See “Wasclat al-Nijat,” p. 256.

6

Futuwwat in the modern era The zErkhAna between tradition and change

Introduction The zErkhAna, the gymnasium where the so-called “ancient exercises” (warzish-i bAstAnC ) are performed, provides an intriguing insight into the nature of modern Iranian jawAnmardC and Sufism (and also Iranian identity), and serves as a good example of how the forces of tradition wrestle with those of change. The investigation of the zErkhAna in contemporary Iran may be undertaken from the perspectives of different social sciences, and the analysis in this chapter touches on anthropological, sociological and political themes.1 It also provides an introduction to a topic that is worthy of extended field-work and research,2 and gives an indication of the significance that the zErkhAna holds for many Iranians, whether as an important sporting institution, a treasury of traditional Iranian heritage, or an old-fashioned organisation that has little relevance to the contemporary situation in Iran. I shall also highlight some of the most recent developments and proposals for reform in this institution. One of the significant elements in this discussion concerns the ethic of jawAnmardC because the zErkhAna has often enjoyed strong associations with the ideal. One of the earliest links connecting the exercises that are traditionally associated with the zErkhAna with jawAnmardC was made by Kashifc, whose works on jawAnmardC were investigated in depth in Chapter 5.3 In his futuwwat nAma there are sections on the skills of individuals on the field of trial, which include wrestlers (kushtC gCr-An) and weight lifters (sang gCr-An) who were visible in the zErkhAnas of the Safavid period. It is important to remember that Kashifc made a specific connection between jawanmardC and Sufism, so therefore the wrestlers and mill stone lifters and those engaged in other “ancient sports” would also have been considered Sufis. However, the ideal of jawAnmardC, consisting of attributes such as bravery, courage, humility and justice, shifts in accordance with the necessities of the age, and so while the ethic has remained an important feature in the creation of Iranian identity, it has not always been intimately linked by all Iranians with Sufism.4 For many Iranians, reflecting on the zErkhAna evokes nostalgic images of a golden age that has vanished (if indeed it ever existed), and the description

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of the zErkhAna and its athletes, written in 1956, by Jamalzada, the founder of the Persian short story, typifies this perspective: I saw physiques there that day unlike any I had ever in my lifetime seen. All stood in a circle around the pit [the main arena of the zErkhAna] with the thick, heavily knotted arms, broad, shieldlike chests, exercised bellies, swelling flanks, bulging oval muscles, narrow waists, taut thighs, solid frames, and hollow cheeks without flesh which are the signs of a gymnast. It was truly a sight to exhilarate any man looking at it! I, the wretched, shaking, quaking haji’s boy ignorant of the world . . . now lost himself completely in these surroundings where there was a belief in the status of manhood and manliness and manners and respect and forbearance and magnanimity and kindness and trust in strength of arms, and truly, I sometimes thought I was asleep and dreaming.5 Jamalzada’s reflections are echoed by many athletes and writers on the zErkhAna; it is a place where men came (and still come) to seek physical, moral and spiritual perfection. In the present age, the athletes are amateurs who come to the zErkhAna perhaps twice a week to engage in sessions that last up to two hours. The lifestyles of the contemporary athlete should not be compared in the same way to the “total-ritualistic” lifestyles of Indian wrestlers as described by Joseph Alter,6 or professional Japanese baseball players, as portrayed by Timothy Fitzgerald,7 in which meticulous attention is paid to matters relating to ritual purity, diet and sexual activity.8 However, the influence of the zErkhAna extends beyond the physical structure of its bricks and walls; within the boundary of the zErkhAna athletes nurture a system of morality that is encompassed by jawAnmardC, but which, if taken seriously, is to be promoted and actively lived all the time. Moreover, even some non-participants recognise the zErkhAna as the treasury of jawAnmardC, and many aspire to see this character trait within themselves. The perception of the zErkhAna as a sacred space, its association with certain moral ideas, may be one of the reasons that contemporary politicians have associated themselves with the institution; Hashimc Rafsanjanc let it be known during the last Presidential race in 2005 that as a youth he participated in the zErkhAna exercises,9 and former President Muwammad Khatamc visited the newly created centre that promotes the zErkhAna (see below) in 200510. Other leading figures who have been mentioned as participating in the ancient sports include the former Presidential candidate, Nayiq Nerc, the current Supreme Leader, Sayyid ‘Alc Khamina’c,11 and the latter’s younger brother, Hadi Khamina’c. Even a politician who has been removed from the spotlight, the imprisoned former major of Tehran, Ghutamwusayn Karbaschc, exercised each morning in Evin prison’s zErkhAna, and was inspired there by contemplating on one of the most popular models for the zErkhAna athletes, Imam ‘Alc. In the words of Karbaschc, “[In ‘Alc ] it is possible to find the crystallisation of the traditional Iranian knightly spirit

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Figure 6.1 “Athletes” warming up in the pit (gawd ) in a zurkhAna in South Tehran.

( jawAnmardC ) and also the aspiration of a prisoner, perhaps innocent that looks for the unique justice of ‘Ali.”12 Yet it would be misleading to present the zErkhAna in this positive, onedimensional fashion, as there are other Iranians for whom the zErkhAna epitomises many of the worst characteristics that can be found in Iran: jingoistic nationalist pride, male-chauvinism, thuggery, excessive praise of the Shc‘ite Imams, and a penchant to glorify the past at the expense of living. Jamalzada’s awe and wonder of the zErkhAna athletes should be juxtaposed with a description provided in a recent publication: . . . a dozen or so middle-aged men wield two heavy wooden clubs in front of their chests, like pistons of a locomotive. The men wear red loincloths, and some have stripped to the waist to expose lavish tattooing. Only in professional darts can men with bellies as commodious as these call themselves sportsmen; they would surely collapse if they had to run a hundred metres.13 (Figure 6.1) The identity of the zErkhAna in many ways reflects the ongoing efforts and endeavours among Iranians to understand their own heritage and to re-invent themselves in the contemporary age. In many ways the attempt to delineate

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the cultural boundaries of the zErkhAna is a perilous task because the symbolism of nationalist Iran and that of Islam are so intertwined in the institution. For example, Shc‘ism is focused around Imam ‘Ali, Iranian nationalism is typified in the figure of Rustam, the hero of Firdawsc ’s eleventh-century ShAhnAma, and Sufism is present in the ideal of the mystical wrestling champion of the thirteenth century, Perya-yi Walc. The multivocalism of the rituals and their symbolism offers the athletes in the zErkhAna the opportunity to construct their own identity. (Moreover, these three elements are not sufficient to describe the zErkhAna, as Jewish and Zoroastrian zErkhAnas have also existed, and no doubt enriched the institution with their own specific symbols.)14 An explanation as to how identity is created in the zErkhAna will be undertaken in this chapter by utilising the cultural anthropological theories of Victor Turner. Although these theories are highly idealistic, and certainly not without flaws, they provide at least a useful entry point into the zErkhAna, and explain why, for some at least, the rituals continue to be upheld. Modern scholarship on the zErkhAna has suggested that the rituals are no longer succeeding and that the popularity of the zErkhAna has declined. For this reason, it is necessary to present a very brief historical survey which outlines the general contours of the zErkhAna’s popularity during the late Qajar and Pahlavi eras. Subsequently, this chapter will examine the fortunes of the zErkhAna under the Islamic Republic – outlining its progress, the challenges that it faces, and how it is generally perceived by contemporary Iranians, and what these views of the zErkhAna reveal about the nature of contemporary Iranian identity – and in so doing, manifest how much or little futuwwat is an important element in the zErkhAna today.

The ancient sport Communitas in the z5rkh1na: a view from cultural anthropology The exercises in the zErkhAna lend themselves to associations with Shc‘ite and Iranian heroes; Imam ‘Alc is known as one of the great soldiers of early Islamic history, Rustam is regarded as the military hero and one of the main champions of Firdawsc’s ShAhnAma, and Perya-yi Walc was the wrestling champion of the Persian-speaking world in the medieval period.15 Many of the exercises in the zErkhAna are linked by tradition with one of these three individuals, supporting the theory of Mircea Eliade that ritual is a re-enactment of a primal myth, bringing the past continuously into the present.16 Echoes of Eliade’s theory reverberate in the comments of Mr Tabarrukc, a contemporary zErkhAna murshid:17 It is sacred here. Perhaps this is the only place where there is the constant repetition of salutations . . . the [athletes] offer prayers and make supplications, and the mention of ‘Alc and his children are the litany for

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Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism the zErkhAna athletes . . . Every place has its ornamentation and the ornament of the zErkhAna is the name of ‘Alc . . . wherever you look, there is ‘Alc. The name of ‘Alc is always floating [around]. When you breathe here, your chest is filled with air shared by both inhabitants of the heavens and earth dwellers when singing in unison, and they have called it ‘Ashera.18 Perhaps [‘Ashera] was yesterday, but there are still those who teach the young generation [that] it is possible to whisper with the angels at the side of the [zErkhAna] arena (gawd ).19

The moment when the athlete identifies with ‘Alc (or for that matter with Rustam or Perya-yi Walc) can be linked with the notions of communitas and rites of passage that were studied by Arnold van Gennep20 and developed further by Victor Turner.21 For van Gennep, rites of passage are those rituals which have a threefold structure: separation, transition and re-aggregation; or to use Turner’s terms, preliminal, liminal and postliminal.22 The liminal stage is one where a person is able to “slip through the network of classifications that normally locate states and positions in cultural space . . . liminal entities are betwixt and between the positions assigned and arrayed by law, custom, convention, and ceremonial.”23 In the liminal stage there emerges the phenomenon of communitas, which describes “society as an unstructured or rudimentarily structured and relatively undifferentiated comitatus, community, or even community of equal individuals who submit together to the general authority of the ritual elders.”24 This structure of separation, transition and re-aggregation is evident within the ritual sporting exercises in the zErkhAna. In the first stage the individual becomes separated from the previous state, including loss of status, class, race, and so on. This separation is made explicit on entry into the zErkhAna, as athletes and visitors have to stoop to pass through the doorway (see Figure 6.2). Athletes typically explain this low entrance as a means that requires them to bow, thereby promoting a sense of humility. The separation process is built upon by the theoretical requirement of athletes performing ritual ablutions before entering the main arena of the zErkhAna.25 (Many athletes come straight into the zErkhAna, change their clothes, and do not perform ablutions before exercises.)26 It is interesting to speculate on the reason for this custom of observing ritual purity, for although it may be associated with preserving the sacred nature of the gawd, from the perspective of cultural anthropology, liminality is often connected with danger. As Turner observes, “all sustained manifestations of communitas must appear as dangerous and anarchical, and have to be hedged around with prescriptions, prohibitions and conditions.”27 Ablutions and purification, therefore, is one of the methods that the lack of classification, or social levelling, in the zErkhAna can be recognised and managed. The shedding of any previous status is enhanced with the apparel that the athlete puts on – sometimes specific zErkhAna breeches, and sometimes a simple cloth is fastened around the waist and between the legs.

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Figure 6.2 The door to the entrance of the zurkhAna (courtesy IZSF).

The second stage is the liminal, in which societal structure has been completely cast aside, and Turner uses the term “anti-structure” to describe the prevailing conditions. In this anti-structure there emerges an egalitarian society of undifferentiated social relations among the athletes, which has been built up by entering through the low doorway, putting on the zErkhAna “uniforms,” and promotion of the belief that the zErkhAna is a sacred space. In addition, the anti-structure is strengthened by the polite use of language among the athletes (typified by each athlete asking for the permission (rukhsat) of all other athletes to perform the individual exercises), and also by the absolute obedience that the athletes pay to the miyAndar (or a senior athlete who helps direct the exercises).

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Despite the anti-structure that emerges in the zErkhAna, it is necessary for the smooth operation of exercises that an internal structure is created, but one that bears absolutely no relation to the structure of everyday society. This is where the concept of jawAnmardC becomes so important. This new structure within the zErkhAna is based upon the merits of the athlete, that is, his physical ability in the performance of the exercises and also his moral deportment, including attributes such as humility. (One should mention that social customs are subverted by the camaraderie that exists among the athletes in the zErkhAna.) In this way, it is quite possible for a simple stall-holder in the bazaar to achieve precedence over and above a rich merchant, a senior cleric, or a landowner, and become the senior champion. And this new structure that is created in the zErkhAna is made apparent by the greeting that the murshid offers the athletes as they enter the arena. He welcomes them individually as they enter one by one by beating the drum and/or ringing the bell, but the number of times the drum is beaten and the bell rung depends upon the seniority of the athlete. In addition, the order of performance of individual exercises by each athlete is determined by their seniority within the zErkhAna. Such new structures are called “ideological communitas” by Turner, which exists because it would be impossible to conduct the rituals if no regulations existed among the participants. The rituals of the zErkhAna are not in fact rites of passage in the conventional sense (since, usually, rites of passage, such as circumcision, occur only once). However, if one accepts that the experience of communitas is genuine in the zErkhAna, then having engaged in rituals in which the idealised past is brought to the present (identifications being made with Rustam, ‘Alc and Perya-yi Walc – see the following section), the athlete leaves the zErkhAna having renewed himself in the path of nationalism and/or Sufism and/or Shc‘ism or combinations of all three, and enters the post-liminal stage, or a return to structured society. However, it is interesting to speculate that the effects of the liminal phase and the influence of the ideological structure within the zErkhAna may be so profound as to render the entry into post-liminal, structured society somewhat problematic. Although existing within a highly structured society, the athlete may live in a way that accords with the ideals that are manifested in the zErkhAna. Caution should be exercised, however, in expecting Turner’s theory of communitas to work in all situations, for this is not the case. There are many possible reasons to explain why Iranian men visit the zErkhAna, and no doubt many do not identify with ‘Alc, Rustam or Perya-yi Walc. Some may exercise at the zErkhAna simply because it is a chance to meet with friends after work, to “escape” from the wife and children at home, and some may use the zErkhAna purely as a means of exercise. The theory of communitas is, therefore, idealist, and reflects the age in which Turner was working, namely the 1960s when the hippie movement was at its peak, as was student unrest, with the demand for non-hierarchical modes of relating.28 One wonders how much of the idealism of Mr Tabarrukc (“they call it ‘Ashera . . .”)29 rings true with elements of the younger generation of Iranian youths.

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“Bringing the past continuously into the present” The symbolism contained within each zErkhAna ranges from Shc‘ite to nationalist and Sufi elements. Some zErkhAnas, however, manifest particularly strong devotion to Shc‘ism, at the expense of other traditions. This was the case at the Muwammad Fahmcda zErkhAna that I visited in 1999 (and which according to athletes from other zErkhAnas in Tehran is used just “for show”).30 Throughout the whole session which lasted two hours the murshid punctuated the exercises with prayers and praise to Muwammad and the Imams. The first exercise performed in the gawd (the sunken arena where the exercises are generally performed) was the shinA, which is a form of a press-up but with slight modifications, and the wooden plank (takhta) used in the Muwammad Fahmcda zErkhAna bore the inscription “in the name of God,” and it was shaped with a fork at one end, symbolic of ‘Alc ’s double-bladed sword, named Dhu al-faqAr (see Figure 6.3). Not all zErkhAnas have such takhtas, however. Yet it would be wrong to associate the Shc‘ism of the zErkhAna solely with the environment of post-revolutionary Iran, as the literature from the pre-revolutionary period highlights the close relationship that has existed between Shc‘ism and the exercises. A good example of this is the exercise performed with the sang, which is one of the individual exercises that is carried out with two large wooden “shields” known in Persian as sang (Figure 6.4). The individual lies on his back and takes a shield in each hand and lifts them parallel to each other into a vertical position. The

Figure 6.3 The “shina” exercise.

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Figure 6.4 The “sang”.

process is then performed in reverse to complete a cycle. The cycles are counted by the murshid with a scale that utilises specific Shc‘ite motifs, some of which have phonetic similarities with the numbers: One: He is great, the God of Ibrahcm. Two: God is not two. Three: He is the cause of all creatures. Four: God, curer for all the wretched [four = chahAr, curer = chArasAz]. Five: The door opening fist of ‘Alc [five = panj, fist = pancha]. Six: The six corners of rusayn’s tomb. Seven: The Seventh Imam, gate of safety. Eight: the eighth qibla, oh Imam Riva. Nine: Noah, prophet of God [nine = nuh, Noah = NEW]. Ten: Generosity comes from ‘Alc ’s hand.

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Another aspect of the Shc‘ite symbolism of the sang is its linkage with Imam ‘Alc’s actions during the battle of Khaybar. It is said that he tore off the door of the fortress of Khaybar and used it as a shield, and led the Muslims to victory against their enemies. Even in those zErkhAnas that have a distinctively Shc‘ite flavour, it is possible for some athletes to interpret the exercises in a completely different fashion. For example, one of the athletes at the Muwammad Fahmcda zErkhAna claimed that the charkh exercise or spinning (see Figure 6.5) was derived from the samA“ that is usually associated with the whirling dervishes. Aside from the perceived similarity of the spinning with that of the whirling dervishes, the spectators

Figure 6.5 Spinning (charkh).

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of the zErkhAna also spoke of a mystical link in that the spiritual guide of a Sufi order is often called a “murshid,” which is also the name of the individual directing the zErkhAna proceedings through his drum, bell and singing. The literature on the zErkhAna also discusses the similarity of the zErkhAna structures with that found in Sufi establishments, namely the khAnaqAh.31 In addition to the perceived Shc‘ite and Sufi symbolism, mention must also be made of pre-Islamic significance which is paramount in the exercise of the kabAda, which is shaped like a bow, and is manoeuvred back and forth above the athlete’s head (see Figure 6.6). This exercise is usually associated with the great hero of the ShAhnAma, Rustam, and his slaying of his enemy Ashkabes. During this exercise it is common for the murshid to narrate this section from the ShAhnAma.32

Figure 6.6 Kabada.

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The z%rkh!na during the Qajar and Pahlavi periods The origin of the zErkhAna is a topic that has generated much speculation and has significant implications regarding Iranian identity. However, the earliest visibly recognisable evidence of the zErkhAna dates to the Safavid period, found in the writings and illustrations of European travellers33 (see Figure 6.7). During the Qajar period the zErkhAna and the ancient sports reached the pinnacle of their popularity, assisted by the patronage of Naxir al-Dcn Shah (d. 1896) (see Figure 6.8). The Shah’s inclination towards the ancient exercises and wrestling resulted in public annual wrestling

Figure 6.7 An image of a “zErkhAna”, from the works of Carsten Nieburh. (This image can be found in Insafper, TArCkh wa farhang-i zErkhAna wa gurEh-hA-yi ijtimA “C-yi zErkhAna-raw, p. 147.

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Figure 6.8 Image of zErkhAna sports being performed in front of Naxir al-Dcn Shah (courtesy IZSF).

competitions in Tehran, attended by the Shah, his court, and thousands of spectators.34 Moreover, due to the Shah’s appreciation of the sport, many aristocrats established their own zErkhAnas and even paid the expenses of some of the athletes,35 and during this period the exercises were performed not just by the lower classes, but also by merchants, clerics, Qajar princes and dignitaries.36 The Shah was so enthusiastic about the ancient sport that he even took the champion of the day, Ibrahcm Yazdc, on his trip to Russia, where Yazdc defeated the Russian wrestling champion.37 Aside from its popularity among the upper classes of Iranian society, the zErkhAna may also have provided a degree of security for the lower urban classes, as zErkhAnas provided safety from oppression and tyranny during the Constitutional Revolution.38 Although no specific examples are mentioned, other scholars have noted the tendency for the athletes to be engaged in political affairs, because “they were essentially a popular movement among which the ideal of social justice, egalitarianism and high standing morals, embodied in the javanmard, lived strongly. Their social ideals drew them into politics which caused many . . . [of them] to degenerate and merge with criminal groups.”39 Yet it is ironic that this popularity of the zErkhAna contributed to the decline of the jawAnmardC ethic, as Chehabi has argued that the honours bestowed upon zErkhAna champions resulted in the professionalisation of the sport by the end of the nineteenth century, since athletes began to seek out the patronage of the powerful, whereas the ideal jawAnmard attempted to preserve his humility and refrained from seeking out the privileged and monied

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classes.40 With the onset of the Constitutional Period and during the early part of the twentieth century there was an attempt by many intellectuals and aristocrats to distance themselves from the Naxirc culture, and as a result the popularity of the zErkhAna began to decline. This was partly due to the perception that the zErkhAna “attracted hoodlums, protection money extortionists, and petty ‘toughs’ ”41 and also to the competition that the zErkhAna faced from other modern sports (such as football), and new forms of entertainment, like the cinema. Nevertheless, the list of thirty-eight zErkhAnas in Tehran in 1921 gives some indication of how healthy the status of the institution must have been in the late nineteenth century.42 During the reign of Reza Shah (r. 1925–41), a certain ambivalence towards the zErkhAna is discernible among intellectuals. On the one hand, as an Iranian institution, and as one that promoted the physical welfare of the people, the zErkhAna contributed to the nationalist aims of both the Shah and many of the intellectuals. Yet the zErkhAna was not associated with modernity because the institution seemed to run contrary to the scientific efforts that were being made to improve preventative hygiene and medical treatment, and also because it was the place for the performance of mechanic rather than organic sport. Chehabi, using Durkheimian terminology, has discussed the significance of this in relation to the concept of modernity: wrestling [and ancient sport] in which all athletes do the same thing, has an elective affinity with mechanic solidarity, which is the solidarity brought about by the resemblance of the members of a group, while football (and other team sports) typifies organic solidarity, namely solidarity on the basis of a complementarity deriving from division of labour.43 These two issues were highlighted in a 1938 article on the zErkhAna, published in the newspaper IYYilA“At: Maybe the sport exercises of the zurkhanahs are not that interesting and congruent with sport’s present principles in the minds of modern Iranian athletes and persons practicing modern sports . . . It is only for two reasons that the zurkhanahs are not more widely spread . . . One is the disregard for principles of hygiene and health, in the sense that the zurkhanas do not enjoy enough sunlight and fresh air, and in addition, some of them are humid. And the second has to do with the nature of the sport itself, i.e. at present, the importance of group sport . . . grows daily, and less importance is given to individualist sports.44 The popularity of the zErkhAna declined further from the 1940s with the divorce of wrestling from the institution. Wrestling was promoted in its international freestyle and graeco-roman forms, but these were not performed in the zErkhAna, and as Chehabi notes, “the loss of the institution’s agonistic component lessened its attraction to young men.”45

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The zErkhAna and the jawAnmardC ethic were discussed by the celebrated poet Malik al-Shu‘ara Bahar in an article entitled “JawAnmardC ” which appeared in 1941–2. In this article Bahar presented a very brief history of the zErkhAna (with no mention of a pre-Islamic origin), and he described the various grades of athletes and the structure of the zErkhAna. Interestingly, Bahar argued that the initiates of European chivalry were imitators of the Islamic jawAnmardAn and the fatiyAn from Kurdestan, Lurestan, Fars, Anatolia and Arabia, with whom they had become acquainted during the Crusades. He concluded the article with the simple observation that, “Today only the gymnasium (warzish-khAna) [zErkhAna] and the name lEYC and lEYC-ism (lEYCgarC ) remain, and there is nothing of jawanmardc and futuwwat except the name.”46 During the reign of Muhammad Reza Pahlavi several works were published on the zErkhAna and wrestling. The first of these was rusayn Partaw Bayva’c ’s History of Iranian Ancient Sports, published in 1958, in which there is a short chapter of only three pages on the subject of the possible pre-Islamic origins of the sport, indicative perhaps of the lack of importance that he felt this subject deserved. Nevertheless, he listed several points that suggested a pre-Islamic origin of the zErkhAna. Of interest, however, is the emphasis that subsequent authors of works on the zErkhAna have placed on the preIslamic origins of the institution. These include the 1974 book by Insafper,47 and perhaps more famously an essay by Mihrdad Bahar (son of Malik alShu‘ara Bahar) which associates the zErkhAna with Mithraism.48 Unfortunately, this chapter does not allow for a discussion of the views of these scholars; suffice it to say that the pre-Islamic origin of the zErkhAna is an opinion that has large currency in contemporary Iran.

The z%rkh!na in the modern era Several observers have expressed the opinion that the zErkhAna is suffering a slow decline, epitomised by Peter Chelkowski’s remark (made in 1991) that “the zerkhana (the traditional Iranian gymnasium of pre-Islamic origin) which later became interwoven with Shc‘a rituals and beliefs, in recent years unfortunately became a mere showcase for foreign tourists in the main cities.”49 Fariba Adelkhah has added that many zErkhAnas have disappeared or been turned into sports centres. It is true that others have been started recently, but they are hardly visible at all, being submerged in the modern boom of sports. Most of them tend to become quaintly traditional, having ceased to be places of references in the neighbourhood or the bazaar.50 The perception that the zErkhAna has declined dramatically is discussed by ‘Alc Bulekbashc (head of the anthropology section of the Great Islamic Encyclopaedia Institute, based in Tehran). He has written that,

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Changes in the social, cultural, economic and political structures of contemporary Iranian society, and the fundamental alteration in the peoples’ behaviour and thought do not permit the zErkhAna to pursue its own course with its old-fashioned exterior form and internal make up, and its traditional role, service and values in a global society.51 Declaring that the zErkhAna has lost its appeal, especially among the youth, Bulekbashc suggested to me that it is necessary to preserve Iranian cultural heritage, and one way to achieve this would be to establish a single zErkhAna in each of Tehran’s municipal councils and turn it into a museum, which could educate children about their indigenous sports and their relationship with their cultural and religious traditions.52 He offered an alternative in the monthly magazine, Hafez: I suggest that those involved and those responsible for Iranian sport should gather the necessary documentation related to this valuable cultural legacy [i.e. the zErkhAna], and along with the forty or so intangible, cultural oral items of the world record it in the list of “the masterpieces of oral and intangible heritage of humanity” in UNESCO.53 While Dr Bulekbashc ’s sentiments are admirable, what comes across very clearly is his belief that the zErkhAna has declined irrevocably, to the extent that it is no longer a living tradition, but an antiquated museum piece. Given these perspectives it is necessary to examine the current state of this institution, especially in the light of recent developments that are promoting the zErkhAna on both a national and international scale. Before examining these developments it is useful to assess the health of the zErkhAna by focusing upon the actual numbers of zErkhAnas in Iran (see Table 6.1). The 2006 IZSF total does not appear to be exact, as it does not include the thirteen state zErkhAnas of Tehran (figures based on 1378/2000 records),54 and discrepancies may be found in the provinces (for example, according to the Kerman Province website, there are twenty-three zErkhAnas).55 A more realistic number of zErkhAnas, therefore, may be in the region of 40056 although about 20 per cent of these are closed because they are in a state of disrepair, and do not conform to the appropriate standards, leaving an approximate total of 320 active zErkhAnas.57 The actual number of individuals who are actively engaged with the zErkhAna, whether as sporting participants or spectators, remains low, however. This is partly because the dimensions of the zErkhAna do not permit more than between thirty and fifty athletes to engage in exercise, and the average capacity for spectators is approximately between 200 and 300. It is reasonable to assume therefore that on a good day, a zErkhAna session may attract 40 athletes and 100 spectators, so that if all the active 320 or so zErkhAnas in Iran attracted 150 participants, the total number of participants would reach in the region of 48,000, a figure that pales in comparison to the

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Table 6.1 List of zErkhAnas in Iran over the past 125 years Source

IZSF 58

BayVA”C 59

BayVA”C 60

MahdC “AbbAsC 61

Date

2006

1958

Late Qajar

Over the last 120 years

24

38

Number of z%rkh!nas Tehran Private Open Closed East Azarbayjan Ardabil Isfahan Ilam Khuzestan Mashhad Shirvan Sabzevar Zanjan Semnan Shiraz Qazvin Kordestan Qom Kashan Kerman Kermanshah Golestan Gilan Lorestan Mazanderan Merkezi Hamadan Yazd Sistan Kazerun TOTAL (open)

55 43 10 3 38 3

4

(6 Tabriz) 16

49 (also 8 in Rayy) 6 (Tabriz) 22

2 3

17 4 16 4

6 7

12 6

5 10 15 12 5 4 4 10 13 4 24 6 1 262

2 4

5 11

22 16 18

1 1 3 7 3

6 17

1 52

70

215

crowds that watch the top matches between Iran’s leading football teams. This generous estimate correlates well with the opinion of one of Iran’s leading zErkhAna authorities that a total of between 20,000 and 30,000 athletes engage in traditional exercises every day.62 Nevertheless, these statistics and my own experience of visiting various zErkhAnas clearly indicate that Chelkowski’s observation that the zErkhAna is merely a “showcase for foreign tourists” does not hold true in the contemporary period. Indeed, it may not be an exaggeration to claim that the zErkhAna has been experiencing something of a revival in recent years.

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The z5rkh1na revival It is not exactly clear where the impetus for the revival of the zErkhAna lies, although it is said that Ayatollah Khamina’c gave instructions for the revival and development of Iranian traditional sports.63 The Physical Education Organisation (not strictly a ministry) created a committee in 2003 to encourage and support the growth of the zErkhAna both in Iran and beyond its national borders. The committee was also entrusted with the task of promoting educational and scientific research on the sport. Subsequent to these initial steps, the committee sent delegates to neighbouring countries such as Tajikestan and a few Arab countries, and several national zErkhAna sports federations were established. This resulted in the meeting of the Constituent Assembly of the International Zerkhana Sports Federation in October 2004.64 This Federation is a non-governmental organisation, and claims financial independence from any national state. Its governing bodies are elected from among the members of the national federations, and nowhere in the constitution is there evidence of any bias towards Iran, except perhaps that the official languages of the IZSF are Farsi and English. (Indeed, article 2i states that the “IZSF refrains from, and declares itself opposed to, all political, racial or religious discussion and discrimination.”)65 However, the IZSF does indeed appear to be an Iranian-based institution, as at the first executive board meeting in 2005, a decision was made to register the headquarters in Tehran. The IZSF held its first World Cities Zerkhana Sports Festival in Mashhad in November 2005, in which there was participation from seven European countries, nine from South East Asia, two from Africa, and thirteen from the Middle and Near East (see Figure 6.9). The Secretary General of the IZSF, Seyyed Amir Hosseini, revealed that it might be too ambitious for the ancient exercises of the zErkhAna to achieve Olympic status, and so participation in the Asian games and even the World Games was a more realistic aim. The internationalising dimension of the IZSF was made apparent by its membership of the Trim and Fitness International Sports Association (TAFISA), and the proposal to join the General Association of International Sport Federations.66 Despite the efforts of the IZSF to promote the zErkhAna in Iran and beyond, the institution within Iran faces major obstacles, which I have categorised below in four sections. Problems facing the z5rkh1na 1 Lack of facilities The statistics provided above indicate that the zErkhAna has some fundamental infrastructural problems that will only be ameliorated through extensive financial assistance. Inevitably, the Iranian National Federation of Ancient Sports and the IZSF have limited resources, and Seyyed Amir Hosseini has

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Figure 6.9 Poster advertising the “First International Zurkhaneh Sports Festival of the Urbans of the World”.

started to focus on the private sector as a means to regenerate existing zErkhAnas and to build new ones.67 He has been active in contacting Iranian philanthropists, and claimed to have been successful in securing a promise from a Swiss Iranian to provide funds to build a zErkhAna in a high school. I was also able to participate in the ceremony to lay the foundations of a new zErkhAna in earthquake-stricken Bam, the finance for which was provided from the private sector. Aside from this, in the IZSF publications

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Seyyed Amir Hosseini has repeated his conviction that local government should share some of the responsibility in providing zErkhAna facilities. In his own words: I consider the role of local councils in this problem as fundamental. In years gone by zErkhAnas were located at the side of the bazaar, and they formed a part of the local order. Today, the council must take responsibility for this . . . In previous years the zErkhAnas performed a fundamental role in the lives of the people and many of the [people’s] difficulties were settled in this space. Today it is necessary that attention is paid to this topic within the planning of urban systems and preferably that we erect and open zErkhAnas adjacent to the cities’ parks.68 2 Competition with modern sports and other forms of entertainment The “decline” of the zErkhAna coincided with the introduction of a number of new forms of sport and entertainment. These included the cinema, which arguably offered a greater spectacle than the zErkhAna exercises, and football. Also of relevance is the divorce of wrestling from the zErkhAna, which deprived the institution of one of its most popular and competitive elements. The parting of the ways between wrestling and the zErkhAna was significant because Iran has been extremely strong in wrestling, to the extent that it has produced Olympic medalists (Muwammad ‘Alc Fardin and Takhtc), and so the zErkhAna has “lost” these national heroes (even though such wrestlers maintain associations with the zErkhAna culture, and despite efforts of those associated with the zErkhAna to appropriate these champions). The divorce between wrestling and the zErkhAna may be one of the reasons that young Iranians have looked for alternative sports with a similar competitive edge, namely tae kwando and karate. The most popular sport in Iran without any doubt is football, and Iran has been drawn into the global domination of this sport to the extent that all of its five television channels broadcast whole games, not only from Iran’s own premier league, but also from top European leagues. Seyyed Amir Hosseini expressed regret that there was no television coverage of the ancient exercises of the zErkhAna. Luring the Iranian youth back to the zErkhAna is not an easy task, and Seyyed Amir Hosseini confessed that it is necessary to transform the zErkhAna into an institution where Iranian youth can be captivated by an exciting sport. The way that this might be achieved is to completely transform the nature of the traditional two-hour session, during which there are long pauses for salawAts, which serve the dual purpose of enabling the athletes to regain their breath after each exercise, and of affirming the traditions within the zErkhAna (including hierarchy among the athletes and various forms of identity). Seyyed Amir Hosseini discussed with me his idea of reducing the sessions to thirty minutes, in which the exercises could

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be performed at a break-neck speed, with an increasing number of athletes performing shCrCn-kArC (or spectacular, eye-catching tricks, the performance of which was traditionally limited to one or two individuals within the zErkhAna). Moreover, Seyyed Amir Hosseini was keen to establish competition among the zErkhAnas in the form of a league. Indeed, in 2003, the Futuwwat Cup for Pahlawan wrestling was held within the National Olympic Academy, and he regarded this as a precursor for the WalAyat cup, which would be awarded to the winners of a zErkhAna league in Tehran.69 Seyyed Amir Hosseini also mentioned that a league of twelve teams had been set up in Kirmanshah. (These plans to increase competition are not complete innovations, as during the Pahlavi period there were championships between athletes and zErkhAnas, but for various reasons, these competitions come and go, and Seyyed Amir Hosseini’s efforts represent a revival of a tradition.) In an attempt to encourage young Iranians to look to their own indigenous sporting traditions, the IZSF has implemented a programme to introduce school children to the ancient sports and the Olympic ideals, and so far it has reached 25,000 young children. Moreover, the Iranian Ministry of Education has accepted a plan to introduce an elective unit within the university curriculum on the practice and theory of the ancient sports. During the period that I spent with Seyyed Amir Hosseini, much of his time was spent planning a course textbook and in discussions about the content of the course and the need to find qualified instructors. Inevitably, Iranian youth will not be attracted to the zErkhAna overnight, and for this reason Seyyed Amir Hosseini has long-term plans and goals. By 2010, he aims to have doubled the number of zErkhAnas in Iran, and to have built fifteen zErkhAnas outside of Iran. By 2015 the aim is to increase threefold the number of active zErkhAnas in Iran, to increase the number of Iranian athletes by 500 per cent, to build thirty zErkhAnas outside of Iran, to have fifty-five members in the IZSF (the number that would permit the IZSF to apply to have the ancient sports included as an Olympic sport), and finally that within each Iranian home there should be an Indian club and a shinA plank.70 3 The image of the zerkhana As outlined in the introduction, the heyday of the zErkhAna was during the late Qajar period, and its demise is attributable to a number of factors, including its association with roughs and hoodlums, known in Persian as lEYCs. Whereas the jawAnmard is generally regarded by Iranians in a positive fashion, his alter ego is the lEYC, who in the popular imagination resorts to extortion, gambling, bullying and miscellaneous negative acts. The “essence” of jawAnmardC is frequently discussed by the athletes in the zErkhAna sessions, especially when the miyAndar (a senior athlete) exhorts the younger athletes to moral uprightness. Typical associations of the lEYC are found in the figure of Sha‘ban Ja‘fari, who achieved notoriety as a zErkhAna leader who played

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a substantial role in rousing the masses in opposition to Muxaddiq, which led to his removal from office in 1953. It is often the case that the miyAndar in the zErkhAna will reflect that the days of the lEYCs in the zErkhAna are now long gone, and that the “real” jawAnmardC has finally re-appeared. One of the most relevant examples of the Janus-faced nature of the jawAnmard/lEYC is the short story DAsh Fkul, by sadiq Hidayat,71 which was popularised further by the 1971 film of the story (directed by Ma’sed Kcmca’c ).72 Dash fkul represents a genuine jawAnmard, who protects the weak and underprivileged, but his nemesis, Kaka Rustam, is the lEYC who is jealous of Dash fkul, and is little more than a thug and a bully. Dash is made the guardian of the family and estate of a local magnate, and he soon falls in love with the magnate’s 14-year-old daughter. However, due to the ethical constraints of jawAnmardC, Dash conceals his feelings, and performs his duty of guarding the family. However, Kaka Rustam discovers Dash’s secret and taunts him, and after several years Kaka Rustam antagonises Dash to the extent that the two engage in a fight in which Dash is killed. The cause of the tragedy is somewhat debatable, as blame can be apportioned to the lEYC Kaka Rustam, and also to the ideal of jawAnmardC that promotes a sense of self-sacrifice. Aside from filming DAsh Fkul, Kcmca’c had already probed into the jawAnmard/lEYC theme in his film Qaysar (1969), in which the hero, Qaysar, takes revenge on the man who raped his sister. Although Qaysar’s attempt to come to terms with the crime leads to a number of tragic episodes, the film was immensely popular on its release because it was seen as a reflection of the times, when individuals lived in an unlawful era, and the Shah’s regime did not come to the assistance of those who demanded justice. However, what is most significant is how the present generations of Iranians reflect on the film. Most notably, Shahla Lahija73 has taken Kcmca’c to task over the film Qaysar because: Women in Ghaysar and similar films were driven to the margin of a male dominated text. An antiquated category of relations between people . . . was now offered in the context of glorifying manifestations of traditional culture . . . In the avant garde intellectual movies of the period [such as Qaysar], the appearance of women signalled the arrival of disaster and misfortune. The young girl was helpless and unable to defend her chastity and the honour of the family. Thus, the men of the family, carrying knives in their pockets, would search the city to repair the torn curtain of the honour and the chastity of the clan by piling corpse upon corpse.74 The image of jawAnmardC as a male preserve has been questioned, yet the association of the zErkhAna as a bastion of patriarchy seems somewhat difficult to shift. The presence of women in the zErkhAna in the contemporary age is not prohibited,75 but females are rarely seen among the spectators.

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Seyyed Amir Hosseini is keen to encourage female participation within the zErkhAna (a point to which the IZSF is committed under article 2i of its constitution). It is interesting to note the development of attitudes towards gender and the zErkhAna, and my conversations with Dr Sayyid ‘Abdullah Sajjadc, the head of the Iranian National Zerkhana Federation, provide a good example of this. My first meeting with Dr Sajjadc was in 1999, and during our discussions I suggested that the popularity of the zErkhAna might increase if the gawd was open to females. His reply was that women did not come to the zErkhAna because the traditional exercises would build up their muscles, the implication being that they would lose their feminine charms. Before my research trip to Iran in 2006 I was intrigued to find a newspaper report on the internet in which Dr Sajjadc had commented that he wanted to open the zErkhAnas to women. He explained that the ancient exercises were similar to aerobics, an activity which has proved very popular in both Europe and Iran, and moreover the zErkhAna exercises were not un-Islamic, for during exercises semi-religious poetry is recited.76 When I spoke to Dr Sajjadc, I mentioned that I had seen this report; his smile, and expression, was one that I understood as a mixture of surprise and awkwardness. He admitted that his comments had caused some debate among the athletes, and he added that unfortunately the doors of the zErkhAna were not yet open to women. He regretted this, as he had received indications that a significant number of women were interested in attending zErkhAna sessions. Moreover, he added that the interest that women have in the zErkhAna is not always specific to themselves, but it was on behalf of their sons. They wanted to see the conditions of the zErkhAna for themselves, and to see if it was a safe place for their sons. I did not realise the significance of this comment until later, for at first I thought that Dr Sajjadc was referring to the lEYC associations of the zErkhAna. Later I wondered whether the mothers’ concern might have been focused elsewhere, as Chehabi has noted, “one of the features of zerkhana culture carried over into the world of modern wrestling in Iran was a certain tolerance of sodomy, where older athletes abuse younger ones.”77 (I was informed by an authority on the zErkhAna culture, Mr Bestan, that the practice of sodomy was the reason that young boys traditionally were not permitted into the zErkhAna pit. It is quite common, however, to find young boys practising the ancient sports in the zErkhAna, learning the techniques with their father or another male relative). The reified image of jawAnmardC as an ideal ethic of chivalry is one that bears a certain resonance among some Iranians, although many have argued that change is inevitable, and the ideals of the past remain simply a matter of historical interest that has little relevance to the contemporary context.78 Indeed, Fariba Adelkhah has described how for some Iranians the contemporary version of jawAnmardC is an ethic that is now more focused on economic concerns than moral and spiritual issues, as “today you are a javanmard if you succeed in bringing home a kilo of meat.”79

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4 Conservative athletes The proposals to reform the zErkhAna have met stiff opposition from the elderly athletes in Iran, and this opposition is often made public. Thus, for instance, I witnessed several elderly athletes heatedly remonstrating with Seyyed Amir Hosseini about such issues at the entrance of a zErkhAna after an evening session. Some of these athletes feel that the resources at the disposal of the National Federation or the IZSF might be better used by renovating the zErkhAnas within Iran’s borders, rather than building new zErkhAnas in Tajikestan and Afghanestan (see Figure 6.10). Some of the elderly athletes expressed their resentment to me in passing, by commenting that the lamentable state of many of the zErkhAnas would not have been tolerated under the Pahlavi regime. However, the complaints of such athletes are not specifically about the poor condition of the zErkhAnas. For many of the elderly athletes, as Seyyid Amir Hosseini himself admitted, the fundamental issue lay with his proposal for reforming the very structure of the sessions of the zErkhAna exercises, namely, his idea of creating shorter sessions, creating more competition, increasing shCrCn-kArC, and giving permission for female sessions. If these changes are implemented, much of the tradition within the zErkhAna might be lost. Inevitably, with the quick performance of exercises and rapid change from one exercise to another, it is the moral

Figure 6.10 The zErkhAna built in Tajikestan (courtesy of IZSF).

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and ethical dimensions of activity that would come under threat. This might include the salawAt, the prayers, the rukhsat (requesting permission for the performance of exercises), and the hierarchy within the zErkhAna. In other words, the zErkhAna might lose its cultural heritage and it might be transformed into a lifeless sport which aimed at athletic excellence which is determined by bodily perfection. It is worthwhile noting at this point how one of the elderly athletes portrayed the significance of the zErkhAna to me. He recounted a story that is found in AsrAr al-TawhCd, a collection of episodes in the life of Abe Sa’cd abc ’l-Khayr (d. 1049). One day Abe Sa‘cd was in the bath-house and a dervish who worked there came to scrape away the dirt and sweat from Abu Sa‘cd’s arm. The dervish collected Abu Sa‘cd’s dirt and sweat, and according to the tradition there, he showed him the grime so that the customer would be satisfied that he had performed his duty well. While carrying out his task, the dervish asked, “Oh Shaykh! What is jawAnmardC ?” Abu Sa‘cd replied, “It is not showing a man his dirt and sweat before his own eyes.”80 These kinds of anecdotes that illustrate the meaning of jawAnmardC for the zErkhAna athletes are not merely amusing and edifying tales but provide the foundation upon which actions are based. When I remarked that mosques and schools also provide such a basis, the elderly athlete replied that the prayers in the mosque are completed in a couple of minutes, and that schools offer no practical training in terms of ethical behaviour. The zErkhAna, on the other hand, with sessions that last two hours, provides the theoretical foundation (through salawAt, prayers and short addresses given by the murshid and others) for ideal character traits, such as humility and piety, and also the practical application of such character traits (through the rukhsat and traditions pertaining to hierarchy in the zErkhAna).

The modern identity of the z%rkh!na The web of Iranian identity, like many national identities, is exceedingly complex and intricate, and liable to tear at the slightest academic poke or criticism of an inherent contradiction between constituent components. Indeed, Iranians may not even be aware that “sacred” elements of cultural identity appear (to some observers) to be incongruent with a rational and harmonious construction of identity. Abdolkarim Soroush, the famous dissident philosopher, once characterised Iranian culture as being comprised of three elements – Islam, Iranianism and the West81 – and this hybridisation of contemporary Iranian culture is reflected in the development of the zErkhAna in the course of the twentieth century. The Islamic heritage The Islamic heritage of the zErkhAna is all too clear in the decoration of the Iranian zErkhAnas, as images of the Imams (‘Alc and rusayn) and devotional

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Figure 6.11 Poster of Imam ‘Alc showing his famous sword.

pictures and prayers cover most of the zErkhAna walls (see Figure 6.11). The decoration of the zErkhAna is worth investigating further because it is an easy way to evaluate the sentiments of the athletes. For example, the Muwammad Fahmcda zErkhAna in Tehran had a distinctly Shc‘ite flavour in 1999, as the murshid did not sing any passages from the ShAhnAma, but continually offered salawAt to the Imams and Muwammad. In itself, this was not so unusual; however, the decoration on the sardam suggested that this zErkhAna allied itself with state Islam. At the top of the sardam (the rostrum where the murshid sits) was the symbol that is included in the centre of the Islamic Republic’s flag, the highly stylised first element of the shahada, “there is no god but God” (see Figure 6.12). The sardam of many “traditional” zErkhAnas are adorned with white feathers, which for many represents the

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Figure 6.12 Rostrum of the zErkhAna with the highly stylised symbol of the Islamic testament of faith above the murshid.

white feather of Scmurgh, the mythical bird that appears in classical Persian literature, including Firdawsc’s ShAhnAma and ‘Ayyar’s ManYiq al-Tayr (Figure 6.13). While some may associate the white feather and the connection with the ShAhnAma in a nationalist, or even royalist, fashion, it does not necessarily have to reflect this; after all, in the ShAhnAma the white feather is a symbol of God. It is interesting, however, that one of the athletes in the KE-yi DAnCshgAh zErkhAna in Tehran understood the white feathers within the zErkhAna as symbolizing the feather on the helmet of Imam rusayn (see Figures 6.14 and 6.15).

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Figure 6.13 Rostrum showing the more traditional white feathers.

What Saint George is to England, Perya-yi Walc is to the zErkhAna, although the latter is remembered just as much for his mercy and compassion as for his wrestling prowess. Perya-yi Walc is believed to have lived in the fourteenth century (he is mentioned by the fifteenth-century Sufi, Jamc).82 The chivalrous nature of Perya-yi Walc is typified in a story included in MajAlis al-“UshshAq, written by Amcr Kamal al Dcn rusayn Garzagahc, who lived in Herat during the reign of Sultan rusayn Bayqara. In this story Perya-yi Walc allowed an Indian wrestler to defeat him because he had been moved

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Figure 6.14 An elaborately decorated zErkhAna, with many images of a Shi‘ite nature.

Figure 6.15 An elaborately decorated zErkhAna, with many images of a Shi‘ite nature.

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by the tears that were shed by the Indian wrestler’s mother, who prayed for her son to win and thus avoid losing face in front of the spectators.83 In MajAlis al-“UshshAq Garzagahc also mentions that Perya-yi Walc wrote much Sufi poetry, including a book called Kanz al-WaqA”iq which has survived and has been edited and published.84 Garzagahc also includes a few pieces of Perya-yi Walc’s verse, including the following quatrain (which according to Rochard “is still quoted by every veteran athlete in Iran”),85 which typifies the ethic of jawAnmardC as an ethic applicable to a Sufi and a sporting champion: If If It If

you can dominate your own self you are a man you don’t find fault with others, you’re a man. is not manly to kick the fallen. you take the hand of the fallen, then you’re a man.86

Perhaps the most important document that attests to the associations made between the heroic wrestling exploits of Perya-yi Walc and Sufism (aside from his own writings) is “The Scroll of the Legend of Perya-yi Walc” (TEmAr-i afsAnah-i PEryA-yi WalC ), which dates to the late Safavid period.87 The legend largely teaches the art and etiquette of wrestling, but the connection with Sufism is made in an early part of the text when Perya-yi Walc meets four groups of ten men from the four cardinal points of the earth, and they tell him that they will follow him for the rest of his life. The southern group is spiritually mandated by the famous Sufi, Baqlc Shirazc (d. 1209), the northern group by the Sufi celebrated in Anatolia, Hajc Biktash Walc (d. 1338), the eastern group by Imam Riva and the western group by Shaykh Murshid Qavc. In the contemporary age Perya-yi Walc is still considered an exemplar of the jawAnmardC tradition (and indeed, many zErkhAnas bear the traces of a Sufi legacy – see Figure 6.16), but this does not necessarily mean that most Iranians would appreciate his possible Sufi background. This may in part be the result of the relative decline in institutionalised Sufism in Iran since the nineteenth century, when Sufism was challenged by a number of ideologies and cultural shifts. For example, the nineteenth century witnessed the expansion of Western philosophies including humanism, liberalism, socialism and nationalism, which in various ways viewed Sufism as an anachronistic vestige of the medieval period. Moreover, the centralisa tion and bureaucratisation of the Iranian state challenged the authority of traditional Sufi power structures. In addition to this, new forms of entertainment and leisure activities altered the way in which people spent their time outside of the workplace, so that rather than going to coffee-houses where Sufis might have gathered or engaged in rhetoric competitions, individuals now went to the cinema and engaged in new sporting events.88 These changes did not result in the total eclipse of Sufism. As Kasrawc remarked:

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Figure 6.16 A rostrum from a zErkhAna in Kashan, which has much Sufi symbolism, including an axe and kashkEl (begging bowl) which are both at the top of the photograph.

Now in the name of dervish-hood and Sufism the humblest among the educated renounced his home and his life and went to the khanaqah. The humblest person sat for the chelleh and gave himself hardships or took up the horn, walking stick, begging bowl and axe and became known as a “wanderer of the world”. Sufism no longer has that power. But when those educated people became aware of the Sufi teachings, they adopted them and absorbed those evil teachings in their minds . . . So it is inevitable that their inner feelings will be contaminated, and their will becomes weak.89

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The Iranian heritage The second strand in Soroush’s trinity, Iranianism, is an association made by many of the contemporary athletes between the zErkhAna and the preIslamic Iranian sporting and chivalrous tradition, and also with Firdawsc’s ShAhnAma. The specific origins of the associations between the zErkhAna and the ShAhnAma are perhaps lost in history,90 but the nationalist themes of the ShAhnAma and the heroic, chivalrous and military exploits of the Iranian champions lend themselves to the ideals of jawAnmardC and the zErkhAna. As already mentioned, portions of the ShAhnAma are recited by the murshid during specific exercises, such as the kabAda exercise.91 Indeed, it is something of a tradition to recite the section of the ShAhnAma where the great Iranian hero Rustam shoots an arrow and kills his Turanian adversary, Ashkabes. In contemporary Iran, the imagery of the ShAhnAma is not so prevalent in terms of interior decoration, and, moreover, I have attended some zErkhAna sessions where the ShAhnAma is not recited at all.92 Seyyed Amir Hosseini lamented this state of affairs, and he admitted that there were some murshids who did little during the zErkhAna sessions other than praise the Shc‘ite Imams. He added that it was necessary to train the murshids so that they would be familiar with a greater repertoire that included the ShAhnAma. I was surprised when he then claimed that every zErkhAna that the IZSF helped to build would be named the Firdawsc zErkhAna. Initially, I did not take this comment seriously, but he repeated this remark, and the new zErkhAna in Tajikestan is a testimony to his words. The interior decoration of the zErkhAna also manifests the deep reverence for the ShAhnAma, and images of the Imams are conspicuous through their absence (Tajikestan is, of course, predominantly a Sunni country). (See Figures 6.17 and 6.18.) However, the attachment to the pre-Islamic origins of the zErkhAna persists in post-revolutionary Iran, even at official state levels. For example, Seyyid Amir Hosseini cited approvingly the comments made by E.G. Browne that the zErkhAna exercises are more than 3,000 years old. In the first newsletter that the Federation published in 2005, mention is made of the 3,000-year history of the zErkhAna and the views of Mihrdad Bahar. The newsletter also summarises the views of Muhsin Mihr‘alczada (Vice-President for Sport), who claimed that, “The sports contained in the zErkhAna activities have their roots in Mihr anthology [sic].” Academics, too, have retraced Mihrdad Bahar’s steps, typified in a speech (given at the Second National Congress of Iranology in Sa‘dabad Palace (Tehran) held between 21 and 24 December 2004), entitled “Iran, the Origin of Futuwwat,” given by Professor Fayima Mudarrisc (of Uremiyeh University). Reflecting many of the arguments offered by Bahar, Professor Mudarrisc claimed that the first jawAnmardAn of Iran were the brave horsemen and heroes of the Achaemenian period. She also stated that jawAnmardC had historical and intellectual connections to the practices of the champions of the Parthian period and the rituals of Mithraism. In addition, there are similarities between the physical structure

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Figure 6.17 The interior of the zErkhAna in Tajikestan (courtesy of IZSF).

Figure 6.18 Exterior of the zErkhAna in Tajikestan (courtesy of IZSF).

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of the zErkhAna and the Mithraic temples, and also between the exercises in the two institutions, and the character traits of the ideal champions of the zErkhAna and Mithraism. Connections between the zErkhAna and the pre-Islamic past are frequently made in contemporary Iran – for example, that pre-Islamic Iranians had particular sporting activities (suggesting that in some way these are the precursors of the contemporary exercises) and that the structure of the zErkhAna itself originated from Mithraic temples. One of the most memorable discussions that I had in Iran was with Mr Bahman Bestan (who is a member of the Internationalising Zerkhana Sport Committee).93 Mr Bestan was at pains to emphasise the pre-Islamic origin of the zErkhAna, and pointed out that many of the zErkhAnas had their gawd constructed beneath ground level, an architectural feature that harks back to pre-Islamic days when Iranians built their structures beneath the ground for protection from the climate and other forms of danger. Mr Bestan argued that one of the distinctive structures of the zErkhAna is the shape of the gawd, many (or most) of which are hectagonal. The reason for this is that Mithraism was initially a form of sun worship; then the worshippers were afraid that the sun would not return once it had set, and therefore several young men would spend the night on a mountain to welcome the sun on its return. Before long, they were accustomed to seeing Venus, as the herald of the sun, and therefore the gawd of the zErkhAna is shaped like this star in celebration of Venus. When I pointed out that to my knowledge there is no archaeological evidence of the zErkhAna prior to the Safavid period, Mr Bestan replied that these had been erased by first the Arab and then Mongol invasions. Mr Bestan’s opinions about the zErkhAna represent an extreme, although the majority of people with whom I spoke were indeed sympathetic with the views of Mihrdad Bahar. At the same time, for many (although not all), this did not negate or belittle the Islamic credentials of the zErkhAna, especially the centrality of Imams ‘Alc and rusayn. The modern heritage The last of Soroush’s components of Iranian cultural identity is that of the West, although it might be useful to speak of modernisation (the two are not synonymous, even though many of the modern trappings that have emerged in Iran have been imported from or inspired by the West). Previous sections have highlighted how those concerned with the zErkhAna in Iran have attempted to transform it in recent years, and such manoeuvres to popularise the zErkhAna reflect the general tendency in Iran towards a greater degree of bureaucratisation and rationalisation. This process also leads to greater degrees of individualisation, which Adelkhah illustrates in a chapter of her Being Modern in Iran, entitled “Looking After Number One: A Competitive Society,” in which she describes the proliferation of sport in the Islamic Republic. Sport is promoted in Iran because of its moral virtues:

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Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism it is held to preserve the youth from “corruption”, it purifies society from its evils and stains [and in addition] it is not difficult to see the regime’s anxiety about unemployed youth – better for the young to devote themselves to the healthy pleasures of physical activity rather than the murky pleasures of disorderly conduct or even sex.94

Healthy competition is therefore promoted, and it is not just in sport but it appears in all aspects of life:95 this regulated competition approach is found in many areas of social life. As in the sports sector, it mediates and promotes the individualising process and the relationship between that and the process of rationalisation, bureaucratisation, commercialisation and the creation of a public space.96 Adelkhah’s discussion of the creation of this public space holds implications that extend beyond the zErkhAna, and is worthwhile summarising here because it is undertaken with a focus on jawAnmardC, the classical style of which was “defined by the very singularity of the personal itineraries of eminent individuals. . . .”97 For Adelkhah, the traditional jawAnmard drew on four major categories: giving or generosity, having a “back,” or a support base, practical ability involving a skill, and purifying acts.98 By possessing the above four qualities, the jawAnmard was able to operate and create his own rules in a society that had a weak notion of bureaucracy and rationalisation. However, the ability of the jawAnmard to operate in such a fashion has been limited, especially within the Islamic Republic, because the “operation of ‘connections’ is more and more undermined by expectations from the alternative ways based on rules known to all,”99 in other words, the rationalisation and bureaucratisation processes. Seyyed Amir Hosseini’s proposals for re-forming the zErkhAna reflect Adelkhah’s theory that Iranian society is becoming increasingly rationalised and bureaucratised. Reference has already been made to the implementation of a zErkhAna league in Kirmanshah (and plans for a similar league in Tehran), and the competition has been extended beyond Iran’s borders with the international festival for ancient sports that was held in 2005. The rationalisation and scientific approach to the ancient sports has been made all the more apparent with the aim to introduce an elective unit at undergraduate level in Iranian universities. The IZSF has engaged in attempts to verify the benefits of the ancient sports to health through a number of medical and scientific experiments, and on the basis of its research it has concluded that, “there is a significant correlation between the mean heart beat at the anaerobic threshold and the mean heart beat when exercising the sang,” and the relationship is described in the same way for the mCl, shinA and pA zadan exercises.100 The implications of the rationalisation and bureaucratisation of the zErkhAna may be gleaned from more general studies on sport. For example,

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Huizinga has argued that as sporting activities become more systematised there is a diminution in the spontaneity and play-quality of sport;101 and Mumford claims that sporting activities which had once been expressions of cultural creativity were now subject to reorganisation along the principles of work.102 Moreover, there is an increasing emphasis through scientific study on the perfection of the body, which has seen the development of various implements for measuring performance.103 This is not to say that the zErkhAna will inevitably follow the same path of rationalisation and bureaucratisation that has been traced by other sports. Indeed, Huizinga’s theory about the spontaneity and play-quality of sport does not hold for some of Seyyed Amir Hosseini’s plans for the zErkhAna, especially his promotion of shCrCn-kArC. At this stage the results of Seyyed Amir Hosseini’s plans are as yet unclear, and there is no indication that he will be able to transform the zErkhAna in the way that he desires, due to the conservative attitude of many of the athletes. The aims of the IZSF are in themselves intriguing, and one wonders if the establishment of the IZSF is part of a larger foreign policy effort to bring into the Iranian orbit the culturally Persian states of Tajikestan, Afghanestan and Turkemenestan. Is it an attempt to appeal to Iranian expatriates to refocus on their cultural heritage and thereby promote Iranian interests? Is it an endeavour to create an Iranian world champion, and in this way attract youth back to indigenous sports and thus decrease the tendency towards cultural erosion?104 Are the efforts at creating space for women in the zErkhAna merely lip-service? Other perplexing questions remain, especially around the identities and affiliations of the athletes themselves, namely, how the athletes perceive the zErkhAna in terms of their Shc‘ite, nationalist or Sufi inclinations. The multivocality within the zErkhAna is unified in the theme of jawAnmardC, which in recent years has been typified and mythologised in the “jawAnmardCsation” of Ghulamriva Takhtc.105 Although it has been argued that the numbers of people who attend the commemoration of his death are declining, it remains an event of widespread interest, as indicated by the television cameras at the event. Those present include not only past and contemporary athletes, but also young people and women. The reverence that has been bestowed upon Takhtc results in men, young and old, massing around his tomb, all attempting to touch his grave. There are several possible explanations for the continued veneration of Takhtc, including the idealisation of jawAnmardC, epitomised by Takhtc, the public demonstration of respect for someone who is perceived to have stood up to state authority, and the celebration of a great national hero. (See Figure 6.19.)

Conclusion The zErkhAna remains one of Iran’s distinctive, indigenous institutions, and in the present age it is simply untrue to say that it is merely a showcase for foreign tourists; neither has it declined to the extent that it has no

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Figure 6.19 Poster commemorating the death of Takhtc (“Oh candle of a night gone by! How come you are still burning bright?”).

alternative but to remain a quaint reminder of Iran’s heritage in a chain of museums. Nor should the zErkhAna be regarded simply as a sport for middle-aged men with commodious bellies, as many young people also take an active part in the exercises. Aside from issues relating purely to sport as a physical activity, the zErkhAna is an institution that has great significance in the context of individualisation and the choices that are available in the Islamic Republic. The multivocality of symbolism within the zErkhAna is indicative of this, as ardent Shc‘ites, Iranian nationalists and Sufis may all find manifestations of identity within the institution. Indeed, the application of Eric Hobsbawm’s “invention of traditions” to the zErkhAna is not out of place here,106 and his observation that “it occurs more frequently when a rapid transformation of society weakens or destroys the social patterns for which ‘old’ traditions had been designed, producing new ones to which they were not applicable,”107 seems appropriate to the history of the zErkhAna in the past one hundred years. The invention of traditions within the zErkhAna is made that much easier due to the multivocality of its rituals and symbols, which can be witnessed, for example, in a poster that was produced in the late 1990s by the Ancient Sports and Pahlawanc Wrestling Federation (see Figure 6.20). The symbolism of Shc‘ism is very strong, with the presence of an Imam, and also with the minarets and dome of a mosque. The

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Figure 6.20 Poster containing multi-vocal symbolism.

almost ghostly depiction of the individual within the bell brings to mind Rustam’s shooting of Ashkabes, which has been so often celebrated in the kabAda exercise. However, the identity of this figure may also be linked with frash, a legendary figure from the pre-Islamic period, whose shot from the bow fixed the Iranian border. The association with nationalism is not hard to make, and in the twentieth century frash was portrayed in several literary works as a saviour from Iran’s enemies, which resulted in the story of frash becoming symbolic of the political hopes of many Iranians.108 Yet the clear-cut distinctions of academic discourse are not always appropriate tools for analysing concepts of identity and nationalism. The universalism of Islam and Iranian nationalism may appear contradictory values to some

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observers, but to many Iranians, such a distinction simply is not an issue of concern. Whether the zErkhAna will thrive under the direction of Seyyed Amir Hosseini (called a bureaucrat (kArmand ) by one of the elderly athletes) and whether he is able to implement change remains to be seen, but his plans for reform are indicative of the changes at large in Iranian society. It is clear that the zErkhAna culture and the ethic of jawAnmardC remain strong, at least among those who participate in the sport, and perhaps this is recognised by observers. The Sufi element, or at least the specific Sufi legacy, is not considered as important as in the past, but it may be the case that the Sufi ethic of jawAnmardC was lost within the all-encompassing Shc‘ite spirituality. Modernity is challenging this very spirituality, and even though there are some who have been spear-heading a zErkhAna revival, it is difficult to be optimistic about its future.

Notes 1 The affiliations of those who exercise in the zErkhAna to various political or religious groups is a subject worthy of attention. In a private communication (02/06/06), Philippe Rochard has highlighted how certain zErkhAnas in Tehran are linked with the police or pAsdAr, while others retain a strong Sufi flavour (Rochard estimates that 20 to 25 per cent of athletes are Sufi-inclined). 2 The forthcoming works of Philippe Rochard are expected to fill this lacuna. In the meantime, the following article of his provides useful historical information: “The Identities of the Iranian Zerkhanah,” Iranian Studies, 35(4), 2002, pp. 313–40. 3 rusayn Wa‘iz Kashifc, Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC, M.J. Mawjeb (ed.), Tehran: Bunyad-i Farhang-i Iran, 1971, pp. 305 –12 on wrestlers, and pp. 312–14 on the weight lifters. 4 This is one of the arguments of Fariba Adelkhah in her Being Modern in Iran, London: Hurst & Co., 1998. She shows how diverse figures in contemporary Iran have been described with the attribute of jawAnmardC. 5 Sayyid Muhammad Ali Jamalzada, Isfahan is Half the World, translated by W.L. Heston, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983, p. 176. 6 The Wrestler’s Body, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992. 7 The Ideology of Religious Studies, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003. 8 On the pre-modern athlete and his attitude to sexual activity, see Rochard, “The Identities of the Iranian Zurkhanah,” p. 337, n. 59. 9 See http://www.hashemirafsanjani.ir/comments/comments05.shtml (date of interview with the New York Times, 25 May 2005). 10 See the photograph of former President Khatamc visiting the IZSF office at: http://www.zurkhaneh.com /Gallery/46.jpg 11 The claim was made to me by Mr Tabarukkc, one of Iran’s foremost murshids. Nayiq Nerc was the Presidential candidate, defeated by Mohammad Khatami in 1997. 12 Ghulamwusayn Karbaschc, “Prison Yard,” from Payam-e Emruz: Monthly Review, translated by Roya Monajem, and found at: http://www.payvand.com/news/01/ feb/1036.html (dated 2.7.01). Karbaschc was released from prison to co-ordinate the Presidential electoral campaign of Ayatollah ‘Alc Akbar Hashimc Rafsanjanc. 13 C. de Bellaigue, In the Rose Garden of the Martyrs, London: Harper Perennial, 2005, p. 158. 14 Houschang Chehabi, “Jews and Sport in Modern Iran,” in The History of Contemporary Iranian Jews, Beverly Hills, CA: Center for Iranian Jewish Oral History, 2001, pp. 5 –9.

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15 Perya-yi Walc is also respected and well known by the Turks of Central Asia. 16 See Fiona Bowie, The Anthropology of Religion, Oxford: Blackwell, 2000, p. 157. 17 The murshid is the individual in the zErkhAna who recites poetry, offers salutations to the Prophet and the Imams, plays the drum and rings the bell, and in so doing, guides the athletes through their exercises. 18 ‘Ashera is the month in which the third Imam, rusayn, was killed by the Umayyad forces, and has since served as a rallying point for Shc‘ites. 19 ZErkhAna, KhAna-yi nCrEmandC, jawAnmardC, hunar wa AdAb (“The Zurkhaneh, House of Strength, Chivalry, Skill and Etiquette”), supervised by Seyyed Amir Hosseini, Tehran, 2005, pp. 132–3. 20 Arnold van Gennep, The Rites of Passage, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1960 (first published 1909). 21 Victor Turner, The Ritual Process, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1969. 22 “Liminal” is a term derived from the Latin limen (threshold) as the place that mediates between one physical space and another, and between one social state and another. See Bowie, The Anthropology of Religion, p. 165. 23 Turner, The Ritual Process, p. 95. 24 Ibid., p. 96. 25 Gh. Insafper, TArCkh wa farhang-i zErkhAna wa gurEh-hA-yi ijtimA“C-yi zErkhAnaraw, Tehran, 1353/1974, p. 182. Insafper states, “. . . he must be ritually pure (YihArat), and with regard to the law (az naZar shar“C ) he must not be unclean (najas) and impure (nA-pAk).” ‘Ali Bulekbashc (head of the anthropology section of the Great Islamic Encyclopaedia Institute, based in Tehran) confirmed to me that in pre-modern times athletes performed the major ablutions (ghusl ). 26 There is the possibility, of course, that the athletes performed their ablutions before coming to the zErkhAna, and this may be assumed by all of those who participate. 27 Turner, The Ritual Process, p. 109. 28 Bowie, The Anthropology of Religion, p. 171. 29 Note the similarity of this comment with the rhetoric commonly heard from Ayatollah Khomeini, epitomised in the following from his pre-revolutionary lectures which were published under the title HukEmat-i IslAmC: “Make Islam known to the people, then, and in so doing, create something akin to ‘Ashura. Just as we have steadfastly preserved the awareness of Ashura . . . and not let it be lost, so that people still gather during Muharram and beat their breasts, we should now take measures to create a wave of protest against the state of the government.” Imam Khomeini, Islam and Revolution, translated by Hamid Algar, London: KPI, 1985, p. 131. 30 The Muwammad Fahmcda zErkhAna is state-owned, and it used to be known as the Bashgah-i Warzishc-yi Ja‘farc, named after Sha‘ban Ja‘farc (nicknamed Sha‘ban the Brainless (Sha‘ban Bc-mukh) ) who received it as a gift from the Shah to express his gratitude for Sha‘ban Ja‘farc’s help in the coup that overthrew the democratically elected Prime Minister, Muxaddiq, in 1953. The whole of the sporting complex had 700 members and was open during daylight hours and continued to operate until 1.00 in the early morning. It was not called a zErkhAna because of the negative connotations that this term had after the coup, but was called a warzish-gAh (literally a place for exercise). See rusayn Partaw Bayva’c Kashanc, TArCkh-i warzish-i bAstAnC-yC IrAn, Tehran, 1958, p. 245 (a new edition came out in 2003/4, and all references in this chapter are to the new edition). It seems that this zErkhAna was used for show back in the 1950s too, as Bayva’c comments, “A part of the welcome programme for each foreign group that comes to Iran is a display of the ancient sports in this [the Bank-i Milli] zErkhAna or in the Ja‘farc zErkhAna” (p. 243).

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31 For example, see Nuxratallah Hajj ‘Azcmc, TArCkh-i Warzish-i IrAn, Tehran, n.d., p. 239. 32 See, for example, the description offered by Jamalzada, Isfahan is Half the World, pp. 189 –90. 33 The prevalence of the zErkhAna during the Safavid period is suggested by the French traveller Sir John Chardin, who was in Iran during the 1660s and 1670s, when he stated that the zErkhAna was considered something that pertained to the lower classes. John Chardin, Travels in Persia, 1673–1677, New York: Dover Publications, 1988, pp. 200 –1. See also R.W. Ferrier, A Journey to Persia: Jean Chardin’s Portrait of a Seventeenth Century Empire, London: I.B. Tauris, 1996, p. 116. Ferrier cites Chardin: “Wrestling is the popular exercise and entertainment of the masses. They took place in a Zurkhaneh, many of which were to be found in the residences of the courtiers and provincial governors for the local population. Each town has its troupe of wrestlers . . . They do their exercises to amuse, for it is a spectacle.” 34 Bayva’c, TArCkh-i warzish-i bAstAnC-yC HrAn, p. 154. 35 Ibid., p. 155. 36 Ibid., p. 156. 37 Ibid., p. 164. 38 Insafper, TArCkh wa farhang-i zErkhAna wa gurEh-hA-yi ijtimA“C-yi zErkhAna-raw, pp. 134 –5. 39 Willem Floor, “The Lutis – a Social Phenomenon in Qajar Persia,” Die Welt des Islams, NS, 13, 1971, p. 119. 40 Houschang Chehabi, “The Legend of Gholamreza Takhti,” International Journal of the History of Sport, XII(3), December 1995, p. 50. 41 Ibid. 42 Bayva’c, TArCkh-i warzish-i bAstAnC-yC IrAn, pp. 158–62. 43 Houschang Chehabi, “A Political History of Football in Iran,” Iranian Studies, 35(4), 2002, p. 3. 44 Cited in Cyrus Schayegh, “Sport, Health, and the Iranian Middle Class,” Iranian Studies, 35(4), 2002, p. 366. 45 Houschang Chehabi, “Zerkhana,” in Encyclopedia Islamica, vol. X, Leiden: Brill, p. 573. 46 This article appeared in Mihr-i IrAn, I (1941–2) and has been reprinted in Iwsan Naraghc, Ayin-i jawAnmardC, Tehran: Chapkhana-yi Katiba, 1363/1984–5, pp. 109 –20. 47 Insafper, TArCkh wa farhang-i zErkhAna wa gurEh-hA-yi ijtimA“C-yi zErkhAna-raw. 48 Mihrdad Bahar, “Warzish-i bastan-i hran wa rcsha-ha-yi tarckhc-yi an,” in BararsC-i farhangC-ijtimA”C-yi zErkhAna-hA-yi TihrAn, Tehran: Shera-yi ‘alc-yi farhang wa hunar, 2535/1977, pp. 6 –8. 49 “Popular Entertainment, Media and Social Change in Twentieth-Century Iran,” in Cambridge History of Iran, vol. VII, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, p. 767. 50 Adelkhah, Being Modern in Iran, p. 141. 51 ‘Alc Bulekbashc, “Naqsh wa Karkard ijtama‘i-yi zErkhAna dar jam“ah-yi sunnatCye Iran” (“The Role and Social Service of the Zerkhana in Traditional Iranian Society,”) Hafez, 9, November 2004, pp. 40 –1. 52 Interview with Dr Bulekbashc, January, 2006. 53 ‘Alc Bulekbashc, “Naqsh wa KArkard ijtimA“C-yi zErkhAna dar jAma“-yi sunnatC-yi HrAn,” p. 41. The masterpieces of oral and intangible heritage of humanity of UNESCO include the samA“ (designated to Turkey), Kabuki (Japan) and performance of the Ramayana (India). 54 “Report of the Activities of the Social and Cultural Centres of Tehran: ZErkhAnas,” vol. VII, Summer, 1378/2000, prepared by the deputy of the Social

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55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73

74 75 76

77 78 79

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and Cultural Affairs Department of the General Administration of Social and Cultural Affairs of the [City] Divisions (manAtiq), supplied to me by Dr Sajjadc. www.kerman.ir/portal/page?_pageid = 33,1167793&dad = portal&schema = PORTAL (01.11.2005). CHN News, “Tehranc-ha dar Intizar-i Zerkhana” (“Tehranis are Waiting for Zerkhanas”). http://www.chn.ir/News/?section = 1&id = 9436 Dated 1384.5.26 (27 July 2005). Ibid. Information supplied to me by the IZSF (2006). Bayva’c mentions that about 100 zErkhAnas were open in the provinces of Iran (TArCkh-i warzish-i bAstAnC-yC IrAn, p. 241). Bayva’c, TArCkh-i warzish-i bAstAnC-yC IrAn, p. 158. Mahdc Abbasc provides lists of the names of zErkhAnas in various locations in Iran in the first two volumes of his TArCkh-i KushtC-yi IrAn, Tehran: Intisharat-i Firdawsc, 1995 – 6. The estimate given by Dr Sajjadc, cited in Rochard, “The Identities of the Iranian Zurkhaneh,” p. 318. ZErkhAna, KhAna-yi nCrEmandC, jawAnmardC, hunar wa AdAb, p. 16. Newsletter, Zurkhaneh Sports, 1, 2005 (published under the supervision of Zurkhaneh sport), editor Mohammad Azizi, p. 12. The IZSF statutes can be found at: www.zurkhaneh.com/IZSF.aspx?idmenu = 3 (posted: Tehran, 2004). Newsletter, Zurkhaneh Sports, 1, 2005, p. 13. This is not an innovation as philanthropy has for long played an important role in Iranian history in establishing various kinds of buildings and services of a social nature. ZErkhAna, KhAna-yi nCrEmandC, jawAnmardC, hunar wa AdAb, p. 92. Ibid., p. 90. Unpublished plan. Published in the collection entitled, Sih Qatrah-yi KhEn (“Three Drops of Blood”), in 1932. Ma‘sed Kcmca’c, DAsh Fkul, 1971. Shahla Lahija is a writer-publisher, translator, and has a prominent publishing house of books on women’s issues. Her work as a publisher and her vocal support of women’s rights have often brought her into conflict with Iranian authorities. She was one of nineteen writers and intellectuals prosecuted for participating in an academic and cultural conference sponsored by the Heinrich Böll Institute in Berlin on 7–9 April 2000, at which political and social reform in Iran was publicly debated. She was arrested on 29 April 2000 on charges of acting against national security for participating in the conference and of propagandising against the Islamic system. Shahla Lahija, “Portrayal of Women in Iranian Cinema.” An essay found at: http://www.nima3.com/IranMedia2/Women2.html According to Dr Sajjadc (speaking to me in 1999), females could spectate at the zErkhAna. However, one wonders about the rationale behind this, especially as females are not permitted to watch at football matches. HamshahrC, 19 April 2003. The article’s perspective says a great deal about stereotypical perspectives. It opens with the advice, “Control yourselves a little. Don’t laugh, this is serious news, just like the rest. A woman has been found who is interested in the ancient sports (warzish-i bAstAnC ).” (http://www.hamnews/1382/ 820130/world/sporw.htm) Chehabi, “The Legend of Gholamreza Takhti,” p. 56. Interview with Iraj Afshar, January 2006. Adelkhah, Being Modern in Iran, p. 31.

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80 AsrAr al-TawhCd, Shafi‘c Kadkanc (ed.), p. 268. 81 “The Three Cultures,” in Abdolkarim Soroush, Reason, Freedom, and Democracy in Islam, translated and edited by Mahmoud Sadri and Ahmad Sadri, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002, pp. 156 –70. 82 ‘Abd al-Rawman Jamc, NafaWAt al-Uns, M. ‘Abidc (ed.), Tehran: Iyyila‘at, 1370/1991–2, p. 882. 83 Amcr Kamal al Dcn rusayn Garzagahc, MajAlis al-“UshshAq, tabayaba’c Majd (ed.), Tehran: Zarrcn, 1996, p. 196. It is unclear why Garzagahc chose to include Perya-yi Walc (who has largely been considered a second-rate Sufi in terms of his literary merits) in his biography of great Sufi masters (who include rallaj, Shihab al-Dcn Suhrawardc and Jamc ). One reason may be that Garzagahc had one eye on the court at Heart, where the Sultan, rusayn Bayqara, took a keen interest in wrestling. The last of Garzagahc’s chapters in MajAlis al-“UshshAq is a rather long entry for rusayn Bayqara. More about the life of Perya-yi Walc is contained in Angelo Piemontese, “La leggenda del santo-lottatore Pahlavan Mahmud Xvarezmi ‘Purya-ye Vali’ (m. 722–1322),” Annali dell’Istituto Orientale di Napoli, NS, 15, 1965, pp. 167–213. 84 See H. Hamid, ZindagC wa rEzigAr wa andCsha-yi Perya-yi Walc, Tehran: Chapkhana-yi Sahil, 1974. 85 Rochard, “The Identities of the Iranian Zerkhanah,” p. 333. 86 Cited by Garzagahc, MajAlis al-“UshshAq, p. 198. 87 Rochard, “The Identities of the Iranian Zerkhanah,” p. 334. 88 On the decline of institutionalised Sufism (Sufi orders) in Iran in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, see Lloyd Ridgeon, Sufi Castigator, London: Routledge, 2006, pp. 13 – 42. 89 Cited in Ridgeon, Sufi Castigator, p. 66. 90 Chehabi has suggested that the associations between the two became more prominent after the millennium of Firdawsi’s birth (1934) and the celebrations that occurred in Iran during that period (see his “Zerkhana,” p. 573). 91 See, for example, Jamalzada’s chapter in Isfahan is Half the World. 92 Chehabi has pointed out that in pre-modern times there was a vast repertoire from which the murshid could choose, which included the ghazals of Hafiz, the poetic works of Jalal al-Dcn Remc, and the Gul KushtC of Mcr Nijat Isfahanc (for the latter of these see Bayva’c, TArCkh-i warzish-i bAstAnC-yC IrAn, pp. 397–427). See his article, “Zerkhana.” 93 Mr Bestan is the grandson (on the maternal side) of rasan Wahcd Dastgardc (d. 1942), one of Iran’s most respected literary scholars of the twentieth century. 94 Being Modern in Iran, p. 144. Adelkhah discusses the proliferation of sport under the Islamic Republic, which includes sports such as football, “volleyball, basketball, swimming, riding, cycling, table tennis, gymnastics, body-building, running and walking” (p. 140). Linked with this phenomenon is the increase in sporting publications and the themes of sport that are present in modern Iranian cinema. Notable films include Muwsin Makhmalbaf’s The Cyclist (1987), Majcd Majcdc’s Children of Heaven (1997), Marzcya Mishkcnc’s The Day I Became a Woman (2000), and Ja‘far Panahc’s Offside (2006). 95 Adelkhah also points to televised game-shows, religious competitions, and even the workplace (Being Modern in Iran, pp. 146–8). 96 Being Modern in Iran, p. 146. 97 Ibid., p. 176. 98 Ibid., p. 42. 99 Ibid., p. 163. 100 ZErkhAna, KhAna-yi nCrEmandC, jawAnmardC, hunar wa AdAb, p. 64. 101 J. Huizinga, Homo Ludens, London: Temple Smith, 1970, cited in C. Schilling, The Body in Culture, Technology and Society, London: Sage, 2005, p. 105.

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102 L. Mumford, The Myth of the Machine, London: Secker and Warburg, 1967, cited in Schilling, The Body in Culture, p. 106. 103 These include the dynamometer (for measuring muscle strength), the sphygmograph (for recording the pulse), the pneumatometer (for measuring exhaled air), and the ergograph (for measuring muscular work). See J. Hoberman, Mortal Engines, New York: Free Press, 1992, cited in Schilling, The Body in Culture, p. 106. 104 It is somewhat ironic that Ayatollah Khamina’c is supposed to have initiated the move that eventually saw the establishment of the IZSF, largely because of his great fear of cultural erosion. Yet the steps taken by the IZSF and the proposals of individuals such as Seyyed Amir Hosseini may well result in the erosion of the traditional norms that exist in the zErkhAna. For a general discussion on the topic of cultural boundaries, see Simon Harrison, “Cultural Boundaries,” Anthropology Today, 15(5), October 1999, pp. 10–13. 105 See Adelkhah, Being Modern in Iran, pp. 142–3; and Chehabi, “The Legend of Gholamreza Takhti.” 106 To quote Hobsbawm, “invented tradition is taken to mean a set of practices, normally governed by overtly or tacitly accepted rules and of a ritual or symbolic nature, which seek to inculcate certain values and norms of behaviour by repetition, which automatically implies continuity with the past.” See his “Introduction: Inventing Traditions,” in Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger (eds), The Invention of Tradition, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983, p. 1. 107 Ibid., p. 4. 108 See W.L. Hanaway Jr, “fra[: ii. In Modern Literature,” in Encyclopedia Iranica, vol. II, p. 267.

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Index

Technical terms adab/AdAb 8, 9, 37, 38, 41, 64, 100, 102, 108 akhC 65, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 86n34, 90n117, 131, 139, 140 anti-structure 171 asbArAn 11 aXnAf (see occupational associations) 124, 127, 131, 135, 150 “ayyAr/An 2, 4, 10–22, 24n65, 24, n75, 24n83, 28, 29, 36, 37, 41, 45, 52, 56n64, 57n102, 61, 66, 78, 90n126, 117n6, 123, 134, 139, 145, 151 bayt 85 barbers 127, 135, 136, 140, 141 bazaar 2, 3, 44, 57n102, 83, 106, 128, 133–4, 140, 150–1, 153, 172, 180, 185 chahAr Zarb 133, 135, 136, 140, 142 charkh 175 charter myth 37, 144 chAwEsh 152 chihiltAr 153 coffee-houses 128, 136, 159n89 communitas 169, 170, 172 darwcsh bc kiswat 153 darwCsh-i mufrad 153 darwCsh-i qazAwat 153 dhikr 46, 49, 120n60, 130, 152 dihqAn/An 11 duwayra 31, 55n15 fatA/fityan 5, 6, 9, 10, 11, 12, 30, 32, 33, 46, 52, 53, 57n100, 60n180, 62, 68, 69, 70, 75, 76, 81, 82, 87n34,

94, 97, 101, 110, 120n60, 156n42, 157n51 fikr 49, 120n60, 130 fiYrat-i insAnC 101 futuwwat khAna 66, 80, 81, 82, 83, 103, 139 gawd 168, 170, 173, 188, 199 ghuluww 124, 142, 143 hair 159n84 Wizb 85 initiation 3, 41, 43, 62, 63, 65, 66, 69, 73, 75, 76, 77, 78, 80, 87n41, 94, 98, 100, 103, 105, 107, 108, 113, 121n68 jadd 85 kabAda 176, 197, 203 kabCr 85 karamAt 30, 47, 48 kasb 42 khalCfat al-khulafA 124 khalwat dar anjuman 97 khAnaqAh 44, 45, 55n15, 65, 83, 87n34, 98, 103, 125, 176, 197 kharAbAt 132 khirqa 78, 79, 88n53, 100, 102, 113, 128, 130, 129, 135, 146, 149, 158n83 khirqa-yi tabarruk 69, 77 khirqa bi-Waqq 69 langar 44, 59n127, 87n34, 134, 139 liminal, liminality 170, 171, 172 lisAn-i khidmat 153 lung 150 lEYC 152, 186, 187, 188

Index ma“raka-gCr/An 107, 131, 140, 142, 143, 165n197, 124 ma“rifat 50, 67, 129 milk 76 miyAndar 171, 172, 186, 187 muraqqa“ 12, 16, 32, 41, 77 muruwwat 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 18, 67, 68, 75, 100, 113 mutaYawwi” 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 21 nafs 16, 30, 33, 43, 49, 52, 53, 76 naqCb 100, 104, 107, 108, 124, 131, 152 nisba 85 occupational associations 93, 100, 101, 105–8, 115, 117, 125–149, 151–154 orators 106 panopticon 70 pharaoh 28, 29, 80 piyAla 150 qawlC 69, 76, 77, 79, 89n104, 133, 134, 163n169, 165n201 qibla 50, 61, 62, 66, 79, 80, 129, 174 quYb 75 rashm-i katCba chihiltAr 153 razor 135, 137, 142, 150 ribAY 63, 64, 69, 73 salt-water 76, 79, 120n68 samA“ 3,44, 81, 90n133, 95, 118n27, 128, 120n60, 124, 175, 206n53 sang 166, 173, 174, 175, 200 sang-i qinA“at 153 sarAwCl (see trousers) 12, 41, 57n102, 73, 78, 150 sardam 191 sayfC 69, 76, 77, 79, 104, 133, 134 seventeen 137, 139, 144, 152, 160n105, 161n131, 164n189, 164n194, 165n202 shab-i barAt 67, 87n50 shab-i qadr 67 shadd 58n102, 103, 104, 105, 142, 145, 146, 162n152 sharC “at (Holy Law) 16, 22, 52, 67, 68, 71, 72, 88, 97, 102, 128, 129, 130, 132, 133, 140, 146, 147, 155n19, 157n51, 205n25 shaykh-i tabarruk 77 shaykh al-ta“lCm 64, 86n32

221

shaykh-i takhalluq 77 shaykh-i tamassuk 77, 89n105 shaykh al-tarbiya 64, 86n32 shilwAr 78, 98 shinA 173, 186, 200 shCrCn kArC 186, 189, 201 shurbC 76, 77, 79, 134 silsila 2, 73, 76, 77, 87n43, 90n108, 105, 106, 120n66, 133, 139, 144, 147, 151, 152, 159n83 soldier/s 19, 20, 68, 79, 82, 104, 106, 120n68, 127, 133, 134, 153, 162n154, 165n196, 169 sukhanwarC 153 Xu“lEk/Xa“Alik 7, 8 YabaqAt 31, 109 tabarra’c 144, 142 tAj 146, 153, 162n154 takhta 173 takhta pEst 146 tamAm jAma 79 tanEra 151 YarCqa 2 tawakkul 14, 42, 147 tawallA”C 139, 144, 145, 150, 151, 161n135, 161n138 traders (ahl-i sEq) 21, 41 trades/tradesmen 3, 43, 68, 80, 82, 84, 104, 107, 109, 117, 120n68, 125, 126, 128, 134, 146, 149, 150, 151, 152 trousers 76, 78, 79, 89n104 tEn 135 uxelization project 31, 41, 42, 44 waWdat al-wujEd 127 walAyat 75, 78, 142 whetstone 135, 137, 142, 150 wrestlers/wrestling 4, 91n143, 107, 132, 152, 153, 165n194, 166, 167, 169, 170, 177, 178, 180, 185, 186, 188, 194, 195, 202 wine 76, 79, 84, 132, 133, 149 yAr pCrAhan 79, 90n126 zCr jAma 78, 79, 98 zEr (ahl-i zEr) 106 zErkhAna 4, 166–204 identity of 190–201 problems facing 183–190 revival of 183

Index

Names of people, places, dynasties, etc ‘Abbas I (Shah) 125, 127, 131, 135, 138 ‘Abbas II (Shah) 125 ‘Abbasids 9, 11, 15, 100 ‘Abda b. al-tabcb 7 Abraham 8, 128 Abe Bakr 40, 76, 79, 94 Abe Bakr Muwammad ibn Iswaq 42 Abe ’l-Faraj Ixfahanc 22n12 Abe rafx al-Nayshaberc 15, 32, 35, 37, 40, 41, 44, 58n119 Abe rafx raddad 30 Abe ’l-rasan Feshanja 28 Abe ’l-raxan Sam‘en 39, 40 Abe ’l-rusayn al-Malikc 39 Abe Jahl 76, 79 Abe Muslim 124 Abe ’l-Riva Ratan 152 Abe Sa‘cd abc ’l-Khayr 19, 57n102, 59n113, 109, 132, 190 Abe Turab 32 Abe ‘Umar al-Dimashqc 39 Adam 8, 28, 32, 35, 37, 52, 75, 79, 99, 119n34, 126, 128, 137, 144 Adelkhah, F 188, 199, 200 ‘Adc, ibn ratim al-ta’c 110 Aflakc 82, 140 Afsharc, Mihran 7–8, 95, 125, 127, 133, 134, 135, 139, 150 Awrar, ‘Ubaydallah 98, 116n9 ‘A’csha 40 ‘A’csha bint Awmad al-tawcl 34 ‘A’csha of Merv 34 ‘Ajam order 144, 151–154 Algar, H. 123 ‘Alc ibn abc talib 3, 37, 40, 41, 57n100, 62, 66–9, 74, 79, 94, 95, 96, 98–99, 102, 104, 105, 119n31, 126, 130, 137,

142, 143, 144, 150, 167, 168, 169, 170, 172, 174, 190, 191 Alter, J. 167 Amanat, A. 94, 111 Amat ‘Azcz 34 ‘Amr ibn al-Layth 14 ‘Amra of Farghana 34 fmulc, Shams al-Dcn 75, 78, 84, 85 Anxarc, A 109, 132 Arabia 9 frash 203 Ardabcl 148 Arjomand, S. 124, 125, 148 Ashkabes 176, 193, 203 Atel, Süleyman 35 ‘Athama 34 ‘Ayyar, Farcd al-Dcn 26n94, 46, 66, 116, 119n54, 122n106, 124, 128, 132, 152, 192 Awfc, Sa‘d al-Dcn 111, 121n88 ‘Ayn al-Quvat 132 Baba Sulyan Qummc 136 Baba tawir 132 Babayan, K. 95, 96, 128 al-Bayhaqc 10 Baghdad 11, 12, 13 Bahar, Malik al-Shu‘ara 13, 180 Bahar, Mihrdad 180, 197, 199 Bayqara, rusayn 93, 109, 111, 116n11, 121n82, 193, 208n83 Bayva’c, r. P. 180 Bentham, Jeremy 70 Bilal 76, 79 al-Bcrenc 22 Bishr rafc 145 Bisyamc, Bayazcd 45, 46, 145

Index Bosworth C. E. 12, 13, 15 Breebaart 10, 61, 76, 85 Browne, E. G. 110, 197 Bulekbashc, ‘Alc 180, 181, 205n25 al-Burjumc 12 al-Bushanjc 33, 39, 40 Bustan, Bahman 188, 199 Cahen, Cl. 1, 65 Chabbi, J. 44 Chalabc, rusam al-Dcn 82, 83 Chardin, J. 162n156, 206n33 Chelkowski, P. 180, 182 China 51 Chittick, W. 51 Chodkiewicz, M. 53 Corbin, H. 1, 88n50 Cornell, Rkia 31, 35 Crusaders 61 Dash fkul 187 Dhahabiyya order 123 Dhu al-faqar 68, 76, 173 Dhu al-Nen Mixrc 18, 24n65, 31, 38, 145 al-Dcnawarc, Mumshad 33 Eliade, M. 169 Fardin, M. ‘A. 185 Farisc, Abe ’l-rusayn 41, 42 Fayima bint Awmad ibn Hanc 34 Fatimids 61 Fayima al-Khanaqahiyya 34 Firdawsc 169, 192, 197, 208n90 Fitzgerald, T. 167 Floor W. 127, 131 Foucauld, M. 70 Fuvayl ibn ‘Iyav 13, 18, 24n65, 26n94, 39 Gabriel 126, 128 Garzagahc, Kamal al-Dcn 193, 195, 208n83 Ghadcr Khum 137, 142 Ghazalc, Awmad 132 Ghaznavids 12, 20 Al-Gclanc, ‘Abd al-Qadir 63 Goldziher I 6–7, 9 Golpinarli, A. 103 rafiz-i Shcrazc 128 al-Hallaj, Manxer 19, 28, 29, 37, 45, 46 Hamadanc, Sayyid ‘Alc 57n100, 75, 77

223

ramden Qaxxar 16, 44 ramza ibn ‘Abdallah 25n75 Hanaway, W. 12, 20 Hartmann, A. 65 rasan (second Imam) 67, 143 ratim ta’c 3, 6, 51, 92, 109–117 raydar safawc 138 raydarcs 135–148 Heraclius 112 Herat 93 rcra 18 Al-rcrc, Abe ‘Uthman 31, 33, 34 Hobsbawn, E. 202 Hosseini, Seyyed Amir 183, 185, 186, 188, 189, 197, 200, 201, 204 Huvayfah al-Mar‘ashc 40 Hujwcrc 8, 16, 18, 19, 24n65, 66 rusayn (third Imam) 67, 142, 143, 144, 174, 190 Ibn abc ratam 39 Ibn ‘Arabc 2, 29, 51, 63, 101, 115, 119n58, 127 Ibn Burd, Bashhar 9 Ibn Bayyeya 3, 69, 70, 78, 80, 81, 82, 83, 90n117, 115, 135 Ibn al-Favl al-Balkhc 32 Ibn al-rakcm 18–19 Ibn ramdan 34 Ibn Haren, Sahl 9 Ibn Jannaw, saliw 8 Ibn Jawzc 12, 21, 28, 44, 59n121, 63, 64, 81, 86n23 Ibn Karram 58n112 Ibn Khizrawiya, Awmad 32 Ibn Mi‘mar 66, 73, 84 Ibn Mu‘adh, Yawya 38, 39, 43 Ibn Munawwar 19, 24n65 Ibn Mubarak 13 Ibn Muqaffa 92 Ibn Musayyib, Sa‘cd 18 Ibn Nujayd, Isma‘cl 30, 31, 57n95 Ibn Yafc‘c 63 Ibrahcm 37, 53, 57n100, 68, 75, 79, 87n53, 95, 102, 130, 174 Ibrahcm Adham 13, 24n65, 31, 106n105 Idris 126 Imam Riva (see also Musa al-Riva) 145, 174, 195 ‘Iraqc, Fakhr al-Dcn 132 Isma‘cl 79 Isma‘cl I (Shah) 123–4, 154n3 Isma‘cl II (Shah) 124, 154n3

224

Index

Ja‘far al-sadiq 39, 120n66, 145, 155n40 Ja‘farc, Sha‘ban 186, 205n30 Jawiv 8 Jalalc Qalandars 148 Jamal al-Dcn Sawc 132, 133 Jamalzada, M. A. 167, 168 Jamc, ‘Abd al-Rawman 63, 93, 98, 109, 118n9, 120n66, 134, 193 Jawanmard Qaxxab 130, 1565n50 Junayd of Baghdad 31, 32, 35, 38, 42, 66, 73, 120n66 Kaka Rustam 187 Al-Karakc 124 Karbala 92, 142, 144 Karbaschc, Gh 167 Karramiyya 42, 45, 58n112, 58n113 Kashanc, ‘Abd al-Razzaq 74–75, 78 Kashanc ‘Izz al-Dcn 134 Kashifc, rusayn Wa‘iz 3–4, 26n89, 74, 77, 84, 92–117, 126, 127, 131, 141, 143, 146, 149, 151, 161n131, 162n154, 166 Kasrawc, A. 195 Kaykawes ibn Iskandar ibn Qabes 19 Keyvani, M. 106, 107, 127, 128, 131, 133 Khadcja 76, 79 Khakc Khurasanc 128 Khaksar Sufis 3, 137, 144, 148–154 Khamina’c, H. 167 Khamina’c, S. A. 167 Khanlarc, P. N. 21 Kharajites 8, 13, 14, 15, 24–25n75 Kharaqanc 2, 29, 46–51, 74 al-Kharraz, Abe Sa‘cd 39 al-Khartabirtc 66, 73 Khatamc, Muwammad 167 al-Khawwax Ibrahcm 42, 98 Khaybar 175 Khivr 144 al-Khujistanc 15 al-Khuldc, Ja‘far 33 Khurasan 12, 13, 17 Khwafc, Majd al-Dcn 93 Khwarazm 22 Kcmca’c, M. 187 Kotov 133, 147 Kubra, Najm al-Dcn 120n66 Keh Gcluya 154n3 Lahija, Shahla 187, 207n73 Lewisohn, L. 125 Loewen, A. 96–7

Mawjeb, M. J. 10, 20, 100, 101, 103, 105, 107, 117n6–7, 153 Mahdc 75, 123, 149 Malamatcs 15, 16, 17, 19, 25n77, 26n100, 29, 37, 43, 44, 47, 51, 52, 58n119, 69, 97, 106, 112, 116, 134, 158n71 al-Ma’men (caliph) 9, 11 al-Maqdisc 45 Ma‘ref al-Karkhc 32, 89n108, 145 Mashhad 149 Massignon, L. 28, 29, 34 Maybedc 17, 52 Meier, F. 43 Mcr Damad 148, 155n19 Mithraism 197, 199 Moses 8, 28, 29, 52, 128, 144 Mu‘awiya 40 Muwammad 6–8, 41, 49, 52, 57n100, 67, 68, 75, 76, 79, 94, 95, 102, 110, 115, 120n66, 126, 128, 137, 142 Muwammad Fahmcda 173, 192, 205n30 Mughals 137 Mulla sadra 102, 136, 148, 155n19 Munfarid 98 al-Muqrc, ibn Awmad 33 al-Muqrc, Abe Qasim 57n106 Muxaddiq, M. 187, 205n30 Mesa Kazim 145 Musa al-Riva 94, 120n6, 149 al-Mustanxir bi-Llah 65 al-Naxir li-Dcn Allah (caliph) 2, 51, 61–6, 73, 75, 77, 78, 81, 82, 84, 85 Naqshbandcs 93, 96–8, 117n7, 118n9, 123 Nasafc, ‘Azcz 116 Naxir al-Dcn (Shah) 177 Nasr, S. H. 123 Naxrabadhc, Abe ’l-Qasim 33 Nawa’c, Mcr ‘Alc 93, 94 Nayshapur 8, 14, 16, 18, 25n75, 29 Newman, A. 124, 125 Nicholson R. A. 6–7, 18, 25n79 Nieburh, C. 177 Ni‘matullah Walc 138, 139, 160n101 Ni‘matullahiyya order 123, 135 Neh the ‘ayyar 2, 16, 17, 18, 45, 52 Nerbakhshiyya order 123, 125, 154n3 Nerc, Nayiq 167 Ohlander, Erik 64, 65, 69 Ottomans 136

Index Pahlawan Mawmed 83 Perjawadc, N. 18, 35 Perya-yi Walc 169, 170, 172, 193, 195 Qajars 125, 129, 134, 148, 169, 177, 178 Qalandar Sufis 3–4, 132–154 Qawam al-Dcn 125 Qazwcn 148 Al-Qummc 124 Al-Qunawc, Majd al-Dcn 81 Qusayma 34 Qushayrc 17, 18, 31, 45, 52 Quyb al-Dcn raydar Tenc 134, 135, 136, 138, 139, 159n83, 160n105 Quyb al-Dcn raydar Zawagc 132, 133, 135, 137, 138, 160n101 Rafsanjanc, Hashimc 167 Reza Shah 179 Rochard, P. 195, 204n2 Remc (Mawlana) 4, 82, 92, 109, 124, 128 Rustam 99, 119n33, 169, 170, 172, 176, 197, 203 Ruwaym of Baghdad 32 Sabzawar 93, 94 Sa‘dc, Muxliw al-Dcn 105, 106, 111, 112, 116 Safavid Iran 3, 85, 101, 123–148 Sa‘cd ibn abc al-‘Ayyar 19 Sajjadc, Dr. S. ‘A. 188, 207n54, 207n75 Salinger, G. 62 Salman-i Farsc 105, 137, 143, 144, 145, 151 al-Sam‘anc 13 Sarbadarcs 94 Sassanian Iran 5, 7, 11 Seljuks 12, 20 Seth 84, 98, 102, 113 Shafc‘c-Kadkanc 46, 138, 139 Shah Chiragh 149 Shah Shuja‘ al-Kirmanc 32 Shams-i Tabrczc 128 Shaykh-i Baha’c 148, 155n19 Al-Shibhc, Abe Bakr 33 Shirvan 134, 135

225

Shc‘ism 3, 4, 61, 62, 63, 66, 75, 87n50, 92–6, 124, 125, 142–5, 148, 168, 169, 172, 190 Shu’ebc movement 21 Simnanc, ‘Ala al-Dawla 120n66 Al-Sijzc, Abe ‘Abdallah 32, 41 Scmurgh 192 Scstan 15, 25n75 Soroush, A. 190, 197, 199 Sviri, Sara 31, 35 Suhrawardc, Abe rafx 2–3, 51, 60n180, 63–91, 94, 96–8, 101, 113, 116, 130 Suhrawardc, Abe ’l-Najcb 63, 120n66 Suhrawardc (maqtEl) 46 Sulamc 2, 17, 29–45, 48, 61, 66, 74, 77, 83, 96, 97, 98, 100, 101, 109, 115, 149 Sulcman (Shah) 145 Taeschner, F. 1, 35, 131 tahirids 14 tahmasb (Shah) 135 Takhtc, Gh 185, 201, 202 Tavernier 140 al-Thaqafc, Abe ‘Alc 33 Timurids 92–117, 125, 130, 148 Tirmidhc, 29 Tor, D. 14–15, 18, 21 Turner, Victor 169–172 ‘Umar (caliph) 68, 94 ‘Umar al-Awza’c 13 Umayyads 9 Umm al-rusayn 34 ‘Urwa’ ibn al-Ward 7 ‘Uthman (caliph) 94 Al-Warraq al-Nayshaberc 33 Ya‘qeb ibn al-Layth 2, 13–15, 17, 21, 25n75, 36 Yazdc, Ibrahcm 178 Yemen 6 Zakeri, Mohsen 10–11 Zarkeb, Najm al-Dcn 74–7, 79, 120n68, 130, 133 Zarrcnkeb, A. H. 139, 145, 150, 158n83 Zayyani, Karim 22n1 Ziyarids 19

Index

Names of books and films AghAnC 6, 22n12, 109, 110 AkhlAq MuWsinC (Kashifc) 118n28, 121n80 AnwAr-i SuhaylC (Kashifc) 93 ArbAb al-YarCq 146 AsrAr al-tawWCd (Ibn Munawwur) 19, 45, 190 “AwArif al-Ma“Arif (Suhrawardc) 63, 118n20 BustAn (Sa‘dc) 105, 111, 112 DAsh Fkul (Kcmca’c) 187 Dhikr al-Niswa (Sulamc) 33 “Feats of the Knowers of God” (Aflakc) 140 al-FutEWAt al-makkiyah (Ibn ‘Arabc) 51–2 Futuwwat nAma-yi AmCr al-mE”minCn 142 Futuwwat nAma-yi MCrzA “Abd al-AZCm KhAn 101, 118n26 Futuwwat nAma NAXirC 79, 84, 111 Futuwwat nAma-yi saqAyAn 126 Futuwwat nAma-yi SulYAnC (Kashifc) 93, 94, 96, 98–108, 109 Futuwwat nAma YabbakhAn 126 Gulistan (Sa‘dc) 105

Kashf al-AsrAr (Maybedc) 17 Kashf al-MaWjEb (Hujwcrc) 28 KitAb al-futuwwat (Ibn Mi ‘mar) 66 KitAb al-futuwwat (Sulamc) 29, 31, 35–45, 96 KitAb al-futuwwat (Suhrawardc) 68, 70, 73, 74 LawAyiW al-qamar (Kashifc) 93 LubAb-i mathna“wC (Kashifc) 92 Lubb-i lubAb-i mathna“wC (Kashifc) 92 Majalis al-‘Ushshaq (Garzagahc) 193, 194 ManYiq al-Yayr (‘Ayyar) 192 Ma“salat darajAt al-XAdiqCn (Sulamc) 38 Mathna“wC (Remc) 92 MawAhib-i “aliyya (Kashifc) 92 QAbEs NAma 8, 19, 20, 43, 120n68 Qaysar (Kcmca’c) 187 RawZat al-shuhAda (Kashifc) 92 RisAla (Qurayshc) 17, 18, 45 RisAla futuwwatiya (fmulc) 84 RisAlat al-futuwwat (Suhrawardc) 67–69, 73, 101 RisAla-yi RAtimiya (Kashifc) 92, 94, 95, 108–117 RisAlat al-MalAmatiyya (Sulamc) 30, 44

IdAlat al-“iyAn (Suhrawardc) 65 JawAmi“ al-WikAyat (Awfc) 111, 121n88 KalCla wa Dimna (Kashifc) 92 Kanz al-WaqA”iq 195

Samak-i “ayyAr 20, 21, 35, 95, 115, 122n99 ShAhnAma (Firdawsc) 1, 20, 95, 96, 169, 176, 192, 197 SharW-i mathna“wC (Kashifc) 92

Index TabaqAt al-XEfiyya (Sulamc) 31, 33, 36 Tadhkirat al-awliya (‘Ayyar) 46, 118n20 Tadhkirat al-MulEk 124, 131 TArCkh-i SCstAn 8, 13, 14, 15, 21, 24–5n75,

227

TAwAsCn (rallaj) 28 Thousand and One Nights 6, 110 TuWfah-yi “AbbAsC 141, 148 TuWfat al-WaXAyA (al-Khartabirtc) 66 TEmAr-i afsAna PEryA-yi WalC 195