Rashī‎d Riḍā and the Wahhābification of Salafism in the 20^th Centuryby Mikhayah ben David

בשם יהוה הרחמן הרחם/بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

Today the words “Salafī” and “Wahhābism” are frequently uttered around many kitchen-table discussions or newscasts. `Usama bin Ladin, we would authoritatively hear from a flurry of news reports is a “Wahhābī,” others who sought to clarify, would term him a “Salafī” instead. In one sense, Bin Ladin provides us with a great example of the lā maẓhab trend in Post-Modern, Pan- Islāmic da`wah, a trend which ultimately traces to Ibn Taymīyyah. Yet the “Salafīyyah” of Ibn Taymīyyah is ideologically indistinguishable from the sort of Wahhābism which is itself contemporarily indistinguishable and inseparable from what I am terming Neo-Salafīsm.¹

The term “Salafī” is itself a controversial one within the Muslim world. Some regard the Muslim Brotherhood, al-Ikhwān al-Muslimīn as Salafīyyīn, and this is indeed the scholarly perspective in the West. To many of what are today Wahhābīs, who self-describe as Salafīs, the Ikhwān are innovators (mubtadi'yīn) and cannot be characterized by this pious designation. Similarly, the Deobandīyyah – which range from some Pakistani and Afghani elements of the Naqshabandī ṭarīqah, to the Taliban itself – are regarded by some (both within and outside of their ranks), as Salafī. For our purposes here, Salafī is used in the scholastic sense of the modernizing approach of 19^th century Muslim reformers, rather than how it is employed in contemporary Wahhābī daw`ah. 
 Khaled Abou El Fadl, writes in Islam and the Theology of Power, that “Wahhabism did not spread in the modern Muslim world under its own label, but under the rubric of Salafism.” ²

In their literature, Wahhābī `ulamā’ have consistently described themselves as Salafīs, not as Wahhābīs. Wahhābīs do not accept such a term for their `aqīdah. They see themselves as followers of the Salaf al-Sāliḥ – and ultimately the “original” form of Islām, Sunnah, et al. – not of `Abdul Wahhāb. Thus, the term “Wahhābism” is regarded as derogatory by its Neo-Salafī adherents, just as the term “Muḥammadean” is to the general Muslim population. This notwithstanding, there is a relationship in orientation of one to the other.

To understand the fusion of Egyptian and Syrian Salafism with Ḥijāzi Wahhābism we must look after the proto-Salafism of Jamāl-al-dīn al-Afghānī (1838 - 1897), and the formative years of the ideology with Muḥammad `Abduh (1849 - 1905), to his disciple Rashī‎d Riḍā (1865 - 1935). It is with Riḍā that we see the beginnings of Salafism’s grafting onto Wahhābism.

The Ḥanbalī orientation of Riḍā’s writings, particularly his later ones, would set the stage for the later spread of a new hybrid strain of Neo-Salafī Wahhābism. This fusion complicates the matter of trying to separate the two, or pigeonhole an adherent today as one and not the other. Today when one speaks of Salafī da`wah they are speaking of Wahhābī da`wah, no matter what protests may be heard to the contrary. This paper will explore the period when this grafting began, during the lifetime and mission of Rashī‎d Riḍā.

The Passing of the Torch of Salafīyyah 


Rashī‎d Riḍā’s influence would carry on to Ḥasan al-Bannā (1906 – 1949) and Sayyīd Quṭb (1906 – 1966). His most direct heir, who founded the Ikhwān in Egypt (1928-29), Bannā admired Riḍā’s strict interpretation of sharīy`ah and political activism. Since Riḍā’s apologetics for Wahhābism and the House of Sa`ūd, followed by the mating of the Ikhwān in Sa`ūdī, the Wahhābī concepts, ideas, and `aqīdah in most cases have been grafted onto Salafism. This hybridization has become so thoroughly blended that contemporary strains of Wahhābī ideologues would come to similarly emphasize the term Salafīyyah, drawing it out of the writings of Ibn Taymīyyah and his followers, seeking to avoid the well known denigration of Wahhābī.

Contrary to the meaning the name has taken on in its later associated today, the Salafīyyah were originally somewhat Western, fairly liberal for their context and certainly modernist. The philosophy’s 19^th century founders, Muḥammad `Abduh, and prototypically, Jamāl al-dīn al-Afghānī, urged Arabs and Muslims to emulate the scientific and technological progress of the West. Later rising to prominence under the same name, later Wahhābī `ulemā’ and du`at (missionaries) would conclude that these Islāmic thinkers were never truly Salafī at all. ³

Similarly modernist, and progressive for the context, was Riḍā’s promotion of public education and the reform of school books as well as encouraging the sciences. He was highly critical of the Egyptian educational system which he saw as simply interested in “preparing youth for the services of the government instead of aiming at training itself.”⁴ In this way it was remarkably different from the parallel Wahhābī strain which sought to remain – as much as possible – in its idealization of the pre-modern era. ⁵

In attempting to unwravel to the complexities of understanding concurrent strains of Ḥanbalī modernist, as well as anti-modernist usages of the self-ascription, Ignaz Goldziher notes three facets of the complex psyche and perspective of Riḍā. The first is the “ethico-religious conceptions” of the Ṣūfī Al-Ghazālī; second is the “ultra-conservative tendency” of Ibn Taymīyyah (1263–1328) and his disciple Ibn Al-Qayyīm al-Jawzīyyah (1292 - 1350); and third Riḍā’s own unique “adaptation to the demands of modern progress. ⁶ Hampered by the lack of Afghānī and `Abduh’s charisma before him, and the absence of Ḥasan al-Bannā’s after him, Riḍā was nonetheless an essential link in the chain running the former to the latter. M.A. Zaki Badawi writes in The Reformers of Egypt, that “Al-Afghānī could simply voice… an opinion in general terms while `Abduh may be drawn into giving more details of such proposals; but it was left to Rashī‎d Riḍā” informally to argue the case,” of his predecessors ⁷

From Ṣūfism to Wahhābism

Early in his life Rashī‎d Riḍā was inspired by the conservative Ṣūfī Al-Ghazālī. Riḍā joined the Naqshbandi ṭarīqah, the anomalous order whose silsilah traces through Abu Bakr ⁸rather than `Alī. ⁹ His exposure through Ṣūfīsm to ṭuruq like the Mevlevī‎ ṭarīqah ¹⁰shocked him into publicly denouncing what he believed were deviations of tasawwūf. In his Arabic Thought In the Liberal Age 1798-1939, Albert Hourani cites Riḍā’s boiling point.

"When Mawlawi dervishes appeared in their meeting-place in front of us, with their shaykh in the seat of honour. There were handsome beardless youths among them, dressed in snow-white gowns like brides’ dresses, dancing to the moving sound of the reed-pipe, turning swiftly and skillfully so that their robes flew out and formed circles, at harmonious distances and not encroaching on one another. They stretched out their arms and inclined their necks, and passed in turn before their shaykh and bowed to him. I asked, “What is this?” and they told me, 'This is the ritual prayer of the order founded by our Lord Jalal al-Din al-Rumi, author of the Mathnawi.' I could not control myself, and stood up in the centre of the hall and shouted something like this: “O people, or can I call you Muslims! These are forbidden acts, which one has no right either to look at or to pass over in silence, for to do so is to accept them.” ¹¹

Riḍā would still seem infatuated with his roots in Islāmic esoteria, positively recounting “many strange experiences he had” as a Naqshahbandī‎ murīd. ¹² By the time he came into contact with `Abduh’s and Al-Afghānī’s The Indissoluble Bond (Al-`Urwat al-Wuthqah), his appreciation of tasawwūf, and the very course of his life had completely changed. Al-`Urwah appealed to “the reform of Islam as a whole” as well as “the restoration of the early glory of Islam.” This was a concept that – while well-meaning and borne of the reformist and Pan-Islāmic ideals of Al-Afghānī – put the ideology on a course which would inevitably intersect with Wahhābī `aqīdah. ¹³ Badawi cites a relevant example of how Riḍā’s change in perspective towards a cemented Ḥanbalī orientation, had long-term negative consequences for the changing face of the Muslim world.

"We used to see in the [Ash’ari] books the views of the Hanbalis reported, and from this we used to think that they were fundamentalists taken up by the letter of the Revelation without truly understanding it. They did not appear to have known the facts of science or to have related them to the religious texts. In our view the Ash’ari books alone were those of religion and the path to certainty. Then we had a look at the books of the Hanbalis, and to our surprise we found them the true guide to the ideal path of the Salaf." ¹⁴

The more “mundane aspect” of social life and politics were so often are dismissed intasawwūf as istidrāj (distraction) from spiritual awakening. As Riḍā became more politically fixated, he – like so many other leaders ¹⁵ – would find it increasingly necessary to distance himself from and denounce the Ṣūfīs. Itzchak Weismann writes that “in the wake of the increasing consolidation of the state and the spread of Western rationalism,” Ṣūfism came to be blamed for much of the so- called “decline of Islām”.

“The Salafi call for a return to the example of the ancestors (salaf) amounted to a discrediting of latter-day tradition, which was described as cherishing mystical superstition as well as scholarly stagnation and political quietism.” ¹⁶

Particularly in North Africa and the Arab world, the anti–Ṣūfī trend was “generally associated with the Salafiyya.” Now Riḍā’s concerns were with “the affairs of Islam in general,” with the lataif 
 of the dervishes and `urafa’ cast aside as the real istidrāj for the reformer. <sup>17</sup> Hourani quotes Riḍā as describing his awakening to Salafīyyah in almost mystical terms: “I found several copies [of Al-`Urwah] ...every number was like an electric current striking me, giving my soul a shock, or setting it in a blaze and carrying me from one state to another.” ¹⁸ Riḍā, like the concurrent strains of Ḥanbalī thought in the Ḥijāz, increasingly would come to blame the decline of Islāmicate power on “medieval additions” or “innovations” to the dīn (religious path).

In the place of the bātinīyyah (esoteric approach to Islām), after his encounter with Al- `Urwah, Riḍā devoured for the writings of Al-Afghānī and Muḥammad `Abduh, as well as anything he could find written about them. ¹⁹ He sought discipleship with Al-Afghānī, but when the proto-Salafist died in 1897, Riḍā travelled instead to Egypt to apprentice `Abduh. Hourani writes, that “the influence of al-Afghani upon him was soon overshadowed by that of `Abduh.” ²⁰ In his conversations with the Salafist founder, he recounts that their views “did not differ,” except in the case of the Bāb and Bahā’u’llāh, the founders of the Bahā’i faith, as well as a few issues which he explains they came to agreement on after further discussion. Though both men were at this time clearly modernists, and shared many ideas, Riḍā’s understanding of Salafism would begin to divert in another direction after the death of his teacher. Contrasted with Hourani’s position of `Abduh’s influence, Badawi writes that in reality Riḍā’s ideas were already solidified before the meeting. He characterized `Abduh’s influence as “more of a confirmation than an initiation.” ²¹ While this is likely an over-statement – as we seem to see a steady polarizing of his ideas to the right – as he grows older. Badawi’s comment does shed light on Riḍā’s seeming lack of anchoring in `Abduh’s ideas, after his death. Taking the common denominator between the two explanations, we can surmise that whatever the case, Al- Afghānī became increasingly less important to Riḍā.

Al-Manār

Riḍā began publishing his widely read paper Al-Manār (the Beacon) in 1898. ²² Badawi writes that the majority of Riḍā’s works were “serialized” in the newspaper. As founder and publisher, he helped readers formulate an intellectual response to the problem of reconciling Islām with the modern world. In spite of his later hardline stances, Al-Manāroriginal advanced concepts of “tolerance and understanding between the various sect,” just as Al-Afghānī had. ²³

Badawi says that `Abduh initially “agreed with the contents,” of Al-Manār though he was “critical of the bluntness of its arguments” as well as a verbosity that shelved it above the “ordinary reader.” Similarly, he criticized Riḍā for its tendency towards involvement in the tangled web of Ottoman politics. <sup>24</sup> While he was alive, it is certain that `Abduh reigned in some of Riḍā’s ideas through the paper. Badawi writes that:

'It is a measure of `Abduh’s control over the paper that Rashī‎d Riḍā states in the preface to the twelfth volume, “We sometimes wished to indulge in [politics] but Al-Ustaz Al- Imam used to stop us. We did not get what we wanted until after Allah had called him."'

In its fifth year of circulation the paper gained a widespread readership. By the twelfth year, in 1909, the leftover copies of Volume 1 “were selling for four times the original price.” ²⁵ Riḍā sought to carry on, and even surpass, what he saw as the work of `Abduh’s Al `Urwat al- Wuthqah. It focused on “social, religious, political and economic reforms” that proved that sharīy`ah and Islām as a religion was not incompatible with contemporary conditions.” In this Riḍā is still counted amongst the Islāmic Modernists of the 19<sup>th</sup> and early 20<sup>th</sup> century. The view that sharīy`ah was still “a practical instrument for modern government,” eventually deteriorate into a slippery slope with Riḍā. ²⁶ 


As he stepped into the political arena, Riḍā was first decried as one of the “intruders” orDukhala, along with Syrian Christian journalists of Al-Muqatam. He gained many enemies in opposing the increasingly secular forms of Arab nationalism, declaring them to be “against Islām.” He nevertheless retained some of the earlier nationalist ideas of a Pan-Islāmic Ummah, while the Ottoman Caliphate was still alive. ²⁷ Amongst non-nationalists, in spite of his many years at al-Azhar, he “never managed to work his way into the ranks of Egyptian society.” ²⁸ This was not merely a matter of his being a foreigner from “Greater Syria.” For example, the Tunisian Shaykh Muḥammad al-Khadr Ḥusayn managed to attain to become the first editor of Al-Azhar’s official magazine. Three decades thereafter, he was appointed the Rector of the University. ²⁹ 


Throughout his later years, Riḍā maintained a contemptuous attitude towards the institution and its products. It seems as if `Abduh’s retreat from Al-Azhar was taken by Riḍā as a permanent declaration of war. <sup>30</sup> Conversely, fellow disciple of `Abduh, Muṣṭfā al-Marāghī was appointed Rector in 1928. Highlighting the discomfort that the University and others felt with him, while occasionally consulting with Riḍā, Marāgh ī never offered him any position. ³¹ At first Al-Manār concentrated its fire on the `ulemā’ entrenched in al-Azhar, who Riḍā accused of bowing to the coaxing of the state, as well as tolerating folk practices, often associated with Sufism. Finally it argued for a return to the Caliphate – and thus to an Islāmic utopia – in the struggle against the secular nationalism’s encroachment. 


The Meeting of 19 th Century Salafīyyah and Wahhabīyyah

Salafīyyah appealed to a very basic concept that Muslims should follow closely the example or Sunnah of the Prophet and his companions sahābah. Fadl writes in Islām and the Theology of Power, that as it was originally conceived, “Salafism was not necessarily anti-intellectual, but like Wahhabism, it did tend to be uninterested in history.” ³² In comparing and contrasting Wahhābī and Salafī ideology, we find that both imagined a “Golden Age” within Islām. This utopian age appears situated in those centuries when an Arab Caliphate endured, but particularly between the 9^th – 13^th centuries CE. Both remained uninterested in critical historical inquiry and primarily responded to the challenge by escaping to the safe haven of primary sources of aḥādīth.

Their most common response to the challenge of modernity was apologetic defense of their beliefs by emphasizing the compatibility of sharīy`ah with the modern world. Fadl summarizes the downside of these attempts:

"Apologists responded to the intellectual challenges coming from the West by adopting pietistic fictions about the Islamic traditions. Such fictions eschewed any critical evaluation of Islamic doctrines, and celebrated the presumed perfection of Islam. A common apologist argument was that any meritorious or worthwhile modern institution was first invented by Muslims. According to the apologists, Islam liberated women, created a democracy, endorsed pluralism, protected human rights and guaranteed social security long before these institutions ever existed in the West." ³³

Though open to ijtihād, Salafism became increasingly bound to finding sole theological legitimacy in interpretive precedence in the source material. In their attempts at egalitarianism they considered intellectualism and insight to be inaccessible. Their attempts at non-elitism “deconstructed any notions of established authority within Islam.” ³⁴ Anyone linguistically able to access the source material could, in effect, speak authoritatively for the dīn of Islām.

In his book The Wahabi Mission and Saudi Arabia, David Commins details the foundations of Wahhābī theology, implemented by the eighteenth-century da`ī (missionary) from the remote Ḥ ijāzī region of the Najd. Muḥammad ibn `Abdul Wahhāb sought to erradicate innovations or bid`ah that he believed had crept into the `aqā'īd (plural of`aqīdah) of the Muslim world. Commins explains that Wahhābism resisted a perceived intrinsic incompleteness of Modernism by “escaping to a strict literalism in which the text became the sole source of legitimacy.” In this context, Wahhābism “exhibited extreme hostility to intellectualism, mysticism and any sectarian divisions within Islām.” ³⁵

Of course their intolerance of division did not mean that they shared the inclusive, pluralistic vision of Al-Afghānī. It meant that all outside of their fold were to be branded “sectarians,” and fought as the “enemies of Islām.”

According to the Wahhābī `aqīdah, it was imperative to return to a presumed pristine, simple and “straightforward” Islām – the “nuts and bolts” of the dīn – which could be reclaimed only through a literalistic approach. They were intolerant of the long-established Islāmic view that a variety maẓāhib could be equally valid expressions of the dīn. Orthodoxy was narrowly defined by long lists of beliefs and acts considered nifāq (hypocrisy). `Abdul Wahhāb was fond of such lists, but took it a step further in drawing the conclusion – from his application of the wujūb (obligations) of his lists to ḥadīthliterature – that nifāq or being a munāfiq immediately rendered a Muslim a kāfir. ³⁶ As such, having abrogated or otherwise invalidated their Shahādah, no retribution against them could be too extreme. ³⁷ This tendency has led to opponents describing the Wahhābīyyah by their actions of takfīrīyyah (pronouncing people disbelievers). `Abdul Wahhāb’s writings, particularly his Kitāb al-Tawhīd, are still widely read around the world today. The majority of Neo-Salafī `ulamā still commonly reference his works, in spite otheir assurances that they are not Wahhābī. ³⁸ Commins describes the puritanical sect’s rise to prominence as not being through its own merits of mass appeal, but through a close alliance with the Sa`ūdī royal family.

"In the late eighteenth century, the Al Sa`ud family united with the Wahhabi movement and rebelled against Ottoman rule in Arabia. Egyptian forces quashed this rebellion in 1818. Nevertheless, Wahhabi ideology was resuscitated in the early twentieth century under the leadership of `Abd al-`Aziz ibn Sa`ud who allied himself with the tribes of Najd, in the beginnings of what would become Saudi Arabia." ³⁹

Wahhābī rebellions erupted in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries; characterized by bloody waves of indiscriminately slaughter of Muslims who they regarded as munāfiqīn and non- Muslims alike. Their rampant violence would lead `ulemā’ writing at the time, such as the Ḥanafī Ibn `Abidīn and the Mālikī al-Sawī to described them as a fanatic fringe group. ⁴⁰ The sect’s bad reputation spread quickly.

Riḍā was consistently charged with being a Wahhābī himself, not merely for his allegiance to and financial backing of Ibn Sa`ūd, but also because his ideas had shifted more definitively towards the Ḥanbalī and even Najdī orientation. <sup>41</sup> His opposition to popular Ṣūfī practices earned him the label from a number of conservative `ulamā’ who defended the popular pietism. The accusations of Wahhābism grew even worse for Riḍā in July of 1908 when shaykhān interrupted a public lecture he was giving at the ancient Umayyad masjid of Damascus. The authorities arrested one of the two in the hopes of silencing others. The remaining shaykh, however, spread the word to crowds at othermasājid. Commins writes that “the rowdy mob frightened Riḍā into fleeing Damascus the next day and with the Wahhābī tag attached to his local comrades in religious reform, they retreated to their homes for several weeks before venturing out.” ⁴²

Ibn Taymīyyah and Neo-Salaf īsm

By the 1920s, Riḍā had grown more puritanical and had come to see secularism and liberal nationalism as dangerous to Islām. He now overtly embraced the literalism of the Ḥanbalī maẓhab. Specifically, he drew his further religious influence from its well-known, fourteenth- century juridical proponent Ibn Taymīyyah, and their proponents in Arabia. This was not coincidental that `Abdul Wahhāb and subsequently Wahhāb iyyah shared this deferment to the authority of Ibn Taymīyyah.

Even when Ibn Taymiyya found himself to be at odds with the maẓhab on issues of tafsīror interpretation, these differences were never perceived as being disagreements with the school’s eponymous founder. Instead, it was always with the interpretation of later`ulemā’ regarding Ibn Ḥanbal’s positions. ⁴³

"The figure of Ibn Taymiyya looms large within the tradition of Hanbali legal thought. Yet, the nature of his affiliation to this school of jurisprudence has long been a point of contention in classical biographical literature with the opinion often expressed that despite impressively attaining absolute status as a jurist, he remained closely aligned with the school of Ḥanbalī law and its traditions of legal thought. Ibn Taymiyya’s views on the religious legitimacy of visiting shrines, while the other resulted from his argument over the efficacy of casual oaths and the practical status of the intended triple divorce, a matter which brought him into conflict with his Ḥanbalī peers."⁴⁴

Ibn Taymīyyah, is attributed amongst Neo-Salafīs – today indistinguishable from Wahhābīs – as being the source for the application of the term “Salafī.” In Majmū al-Fatāwat, he comments that “there is no criticism for the one who proclaims the way of the Salaf, who attaches himself to it and refers to it. Rather, it is obligatory to accept that from him by unanimous agreement because the way of the Salaf is nothing but the Truth” ⁴⁵ His disciple Shamsudīn al-Ḍahabī elaborated that “it is authentically related from al- Dāraqutnī that he said: There is nothing more despised by me than `ilm al-kalām,” theological rhetoric and philosophy. “No person should ever enter into `ilm al-kalām, nor argumentation.” Instead, al-Ḍahabī states, they “should be Salafī.” ⁴⁶ We thus find this term widely circulating long before Muḥammad `Abduh. This demonstrates, not a line of political silsilah (lineage) of sorts, but rather that in the Modern era there was continued attachment between Riḍā and even `Abduh, to Ibn Taymīyyah; an undercurrent linking the Wahhābīyyah and Salafīyyah together, even as they were originally worlds apart. ⁴⁷ 
 


Spreading Wahhābism through Al-Manār

Al-Manār became increasingly politicized following the death of Riḍā’s teacher. It took on a number of issues which narrowed the Salafī vision of what legitimate Islāmic thought was. This, Riḍā undoubtedly saw as a return to the more fundamental meaning of Salafī, predating the usage by his teacher. The now fully political magazine took aim at “prevailing superstitions” (code for Ṣūfism) and what it further regarded as “sectarians” (shī`yan) amongst the maẓāhib. <sup>48</sup> Concurrent with this, its own Ḥanbalī orientation towards Ibn Taymīyyah had begun to cement. The Ṣūfī turuq were its most frequent target, with their alleged shirk of “saint worship” and “harmful innovations” orbid`ah. Hourani explains that “The suspicion of Sufism” which grew in Riḍā from his early observations of the Mevlevī ṭarīqah, “was one of the factors” in his narrowing vision of Orthodoxy, “was to draw him nearer to the teachings of Ibn Taymiyya and the practices of Wahhabism.” ⁴⁹ In targeting what he perceived as deviations, Riḍā’s over-wrote the preceding history of diversity and pluralism of Islāmic thought that his predecessors, Al- Afghānī in particular, was so well known for. ⁵⁰ 


Unlike `Abduh, Riḍā did not define his ideas vaguely or in any way that could be open to interpretation. <sup>51</sup> Both the quirks of his own personality, <sup>52</sup> and his “strict adherence to the school of Ibn Taymīyyah drove him into attempting to give precise and definite statements,” after `Abduh’s death. ⁵³ Still, Badawi writes that “at no time” did Riḍā actually believe that he was “deviating from the views from `Abduh.” ⁵⁴ He says specifically, “that had he lived and read it, he would have approved all of it.” ⁵⁵

The contrasts were nonetheless occasionally stark. Riḍā was like `Abduh and Al-Afghānī before him in that he accepted the need for modern, on-going ijtihād yet, as Badawi writes, “unlike them he was less tolerant of differences” and took pains to demonstrate the du`f (weakness) the famous pluralistic ḥadīth attributed to Muḥammad that “differences amongst my Ummah are a source of Mercy (Rahīm).” ⁵⁶ The notion of ijtihād itself was nothing new. Ibn Taymīyyah and his disciple Ibn al-Qayyim al-Jawzīyyah (a. 1355), wrote from a staunchly conservative claim “for themselves the right of ijtihad.” ⁵⁷

In this way we see two very similar ideas that were used to very different ends – stifling any outside influences, regarded as bid`ah, and on the other hand, conversely advancing modernism. In both cases, revival of ijtihād was the commonality, though for entirely different purposes, and – for a time – with entirely different outcomes.

Badawi writes that “the school of al-Afghānī and `Abduh was concerned at the disparity between Muslim ideal and Muslim reality.” <sup>58</sup> They were concerned, as we have seen, with “bridging the gap” between modernism and sharīy`ah. Both maintained, as would Riḍā, that sharīy`ah could be applied to modern contexts – all modern contexts – through ijtihād. Riḍā writes that “there is nothing in our religion which is incompatible with the current civilization.” <sup>59</sup> Their shared purpose was thus “to re-establish the Shari`a as the exclusive source of law in Muslim countries.” ⁶⁰ Thus, herein lies the problem with the conclusion: sharīy`ah defined and interpreted by whom, and by what agreed upon methodology? Wahhabī ears would find consolation in Riḍā’s words. Still most of Al-Manār’s readers took his words to be more an echo of Al-Afghānī and `Abduh than a redirection towards the Sa`ūdī model. Accordingly, and like Ibn Taymīyyah and `Abdul Wahhāb, Riḍā claimed to have confined himself “only [to] the Qur’an and the authentic Traditions” in interpreting matters of law; claiming to ignore schools of law ormaẓāhib. ⁶¹ This was of course no more true with him than with the typical Wahhābī parallel claim.

On the surface, Riḍā’s statements seem very modern and even progressive. Today it is this reopening of the gates of ijtihād that the liberal youth of the Muslim world today are in fact arguing for. In this, it might seem that Riḍā was a kindred spirit and indeed, while `Abduh was alive, there is an argument to be made for this. Yet the statements we read about the universality of sharīy`ah also “gives reassurance to the ruling classes, the educated section of the community.” ⁶² In effect, Riḍā’s ideas would empower a particularly Wahhabī status quo, even while railing against the status quo of secular-Arab nationalists. 


A Match Made In Sa`ūdīyyah 


Commins writes that by the early 1920s, Rashīd Riḍā had “joined the ranks of Ibn Saud’s boosters in the wider Arab world.” ⁶³ Initially, this appeared to be due to a shared opposition to “Sharif Husayn’s dynastic scheming for the Arab East.” ⁶⁴ Sharīf Ḥusayn was “notorious” amongst many “for plotting with Islām’s enemies for the sake of his ambition to gain the caliphate.” The Wahhābīyyah, on the other hand, while they were generally loyal to the Muslim rule, were also well known for their “hostility to foreign influence.” ⁶⁵

"While Rida was overstating the case [against Sharīf Ḥusayn] because of his personal antipathy towards the Hashemites, his portrayal of the impact of the post-Ottoman situation on Muslims’ perceptions of the impact of the post-Ottoman situation on Muslim’s perceptions of the Wahhabis was accurate." ⁶⁶

Riḍā, presented himself as an impartial third party, said that he would judge between, what Commins describes as “the mutual recriminations” of Ibn Sa`ūd and his rival Sharīf Ḥusayn. In judging between them, Riḍā “would rely on the writings of both sides.” He promised however, to “only add comments buttressed by strong evidence.” <sup>67</sup> Not surprisingly, he came down in favor of Ibn Sa`ūd and the verdict was disseminated to his readers. This apologetic work The Wahhābīs and Ḥijāz, argued directly for the Sa`ūdī-Wahhābī rule of the Ḥijāz. In his vindication of Wahhābīsim, he extensively referenced a polemic treatise written by Ibn Abdul Wahhāb’s son `Abdullāh. More importantly, in his allegedly impartial determination, he offered the Wahhābī essay for free to all readers of Al-Manār, and urged readers with a Sa`ūdī contact address for more information.

Not simply a defender of Ibn Sa`ūd, Riḍā described Sharīf Ḥusayn as having “forfeited a rightful claim to rule” the Ḥijāz, through his betrayal of the Ottoman Empire. <sup>68</sup> The influence of this Sa`ūdī defense was noticeable world-wide. Riḍā would later boast to this effect, that in writing it he was able to persuade “a number of anti-Wahhabi ulema at the Azhar to revise their views on the Wahhabis.” ⁶⁹

Riḍā’s alliance with Ibn Sa`ūd was not merely born of frustration with Ḥusayn’s opportunism, but also served to greatly advance his own financial situation. Indebted to the widely read Al-Manār, Ibn Sa`ūd “realized the advantage” he had gained from this Pan-Islāmic audience. ⁷⁰ Continuing to advance the Sa`ūdī agenda, Al-Manār published a series arguing the necessity of the Caliphate’s revival under an Arab ruler. Riḍā was involved with the famous congresses in Mecca and Cairo in 1926, which unsuccessfully argued the claims of the Fū`ad of Egypt and the Sa`ūdī Ibn Sa`ūd to the role of Caliph. By this time, Riḍā was receiving funds from him.” ⁷¹

In their efforts to firmly grasp the reigns of the State and suppress dissent, Sa`ūdīyyah expelled many workers in 1953 – “especially” Palestinians, Commins writes – on suspicion of “subversive activity.” <sup>72</sup> He adds that “the incorporation of Wahhābī `ulamā’into government institutions increased Al Saud’s control over the religious estate.” ⁷³ In this manner, however, the exiled Salafī Ikhwān in Sa`ūdī were not co-opted into the government as they were in Jordan, ⁷⁴ but instead gradually blended with Wahhābīyyah. There is little doubt that the apologetic efforts of Riḍā towards the ideology was a key factor in softening up the Ikhwān for assimilation. ⁷⁵

Commins writes that part of the purpose of the aforementioned Mecca congress was “to erase the reputation of extreme sectarianism associated with the Ikhwan.” ⁷⁶ Following the conference, Ibn Sa`ūd, the Ikhwān leaders and Wahhābī `ulamā’ reached an agreement in 1927: “The Ikhwan conceded the point that only Ibn Saud had the authority to order a jihad and in doing so accepted his decision to prohibit raids against Iraq and Transjordan.” As their concession for compliance, the Ikhwān demanded the forced conversion of Al-Hasa’s Shī`ah and demolition of Shī`ah masājid. The Sa`ūdī Wahhābīs were happy to oblige. ⁷⁷

Postscript: Salafīyyah Today

Commins writes that “Modern state-building entails the creation of a uniform set of national institutions and administrative procedures that enable governments to exercise authority” throughout the areas under their control. ⁷⁸ These uniform institutions and ideas would, as the result of “revenue from oil royalties” play an important role in the overseas da`wah missions beginning in the mid 1950s. Initially this da`wah would assert “the geocentric view of the universe” and condemn the Riyadh University for teaching the Copernican view. ⁷⁹ In their da`wah efforts, the newly-hybridized Neo-Salafism of Riḍā and his Sa`ūdī patron state’s anti- intellectual Wahhābism began to fully extend over a true “pan-Islāmic reach.” This was both through Sa`ūdī da`wah efforts and Al-Manār, with readers in Indonesia and the Muslim communities in the Americas.” ⁸⁰Eventually, by the 1960s and 70s, Sa`ūdīyyah had “adopted an Islamic foreign policy and created religious institutions to proselytize abroad.” In that effort, Commins writes, “the Wahhabis joined hands with the Muslim Brothers and revivalist organizations in Pakistan.” ⁸¹

Today, most who call themselves “Salafī” disavow `Abduh and the earlier Afghānī as “known freemasons” who were “greatly misguided” in their ideologies. ⁸² They allege that they were interested in an “anti-colonial political movement” rather than “orthodox Islām” or “the way of the Salaf.” Instead, they regard the usage of “Salafi” by the 19^thcentury reformers, as “deception”; conspiratorially surrounding their call “with slogans of returning back to the way of the forefathers.” ⁸³

Shaykh Muqbil ibn Ḥādī Al-Wādi`ī (d. 2001) founder of the famous Salafī Madrasah Dar al-Ḥadith al-Khayriyyah in Dammāj and Muḥammad Nāsiruddīn al-Albānī (1914-1999) would highlight evidence of the concurrent trends in al-fiqh al-Ḥanbalīyyah, both self- identifying with Salafīyyah. Yet not only would al-Albānī famously repudiate `Usama bin Ladin – celebrated in the West as Salafī – he would also, in his lectures (khutbāt), disavow modernist Salafīyyah’s founder, Muḥammad `Abduh. He and Al-Wādi`ī represent a concurrent trend with Riḍāa which closely held to Ḥanbalīyyah – under the guise of la maẓhab – and employed the designation of Salafī in the usage that we find with Ibn Taymīyyah. That is Ibn Taymīyyah was a pre-Modern stream of the Salafīyyahwhich the North African reformer no doubt drank from, but which continued flowing independent of him.

The realignment of `Abduh’s modernist Salafīyyah with the Wahhābī trends in Sa`ūdīyyah became the headstream where the divided waters would again rejoin. Now, liberated of the modernism of `Abduh and Al-Afghānī before him, the Salafīyyah – reborn in the sands of the Ḥijāz – would be free to reframe and reconstruct an oral history that portrays `Abduh as a deviant from the Salafīyyah of Ibn Taymīyyah. The full account of these concurrent and now reunited strains, which today still live on in hybrid form, has yet to be fully explored.

_____________________________

¹ Yet Bin Ladin’s particular tendency in his sermons (khutbāt) is towards his familial Shafī`īsm. In his firebrand speeches, he frequently ends by giving the trademarked Shafī`ī alawāt upon the family of Mu ammad (Āl Mu ammad).

² Fadl, Khaled Abou El. "Islam and the Theology of Power." Middle East Report (Middle East Research and Information Project) 221 (Winter 2001): 32

³ We will see much more of these concurrent strains throughout this article.

⁴ M.A. Zaki Badawi, The Reformers of Egypt (London, 1978) 116

⁵ Ibid 99

⁶ Charles C. Adams, Islam and Modernism in Egypt (New York, 1968) 202

⁷ Badawi 103

⁸ This order also seemed to take a more radical turn during the modern era (see the Turkish “Hat Rebellion” for a notable example).

⁹ The fourth Sunni Caliph, though the first Imām and rightful heir to leadership in the eyes of the Shī`ah. Sufism began in Ba rah by Shī`ah, though it would eventually become an identity unto itself, as distinct Shī`ah factions splintered in many diverse directions.

¹⁰ One of the most globally recognizable uruq, due to their famous “whirling dervishes.”

¹¹ Albert Hourani, Arabic Thought In the Liberal Age 1798-1939 (Cambridge, 2008) 225

¹² Badawi 97

¹³ Adams 179

¹⁴ Badawi 115

¹⁵ Khomeini being another prominent example.

¹⁶ Itzchak Weismann, "Between Sufi Reformism and Modernist Rationalism: A Reappraisal of the Origins of the Salafiyya from the Damascene Angle." Die Welt des Islams, New Series, 41, no. 2 (July 2001): 206

¹⁷ Badawi 97

¹⁸ Hourani 226

¹⁹ Badawi 98

²⁰ Hourani, 226

²¹ Badawi 99

²² Ibid 137

²³ Ibid 100

²⁴ Badawi 99

²⁵ Adams 180

²⁶ Badawi 99

²⁷ Ibid 101

²⁸ Ibid 101-2

²⁹ Badawi 102

³⁰Ibid 102

³¹ Ibid

³² Fadl 32

³³ Fadl 32

³⁴ Ibid

³⁵ Fadl 32

³⁶ In derivation from a tradition that a hypocrite is worse than a disbeliever.

³⁷ Adams

³⁸ Judge Ahmad Ibn 'Hajar Ibn Muhammad al-Butami al-Bin Ali, Shaikh Muhammad, Ibn Abdul-Wahhab: His Salafi Creed, Reformist Movement and Scholars' Praise of Him, (Kuwait, Ad-Dar as-Salafiyyah 1983) 108-164

³⁹ Fadl 32

⁴⁰ Muhammad Amin Ibn 'Abidin, Hashiyat Radd al-Muhtar, vol. VI (Cairo: Mustafa al-Babi, 1966), p. 413; Ahmad al-Sawi, Hashiyat al-Sawi 'ala Tafsir al-Jalalayn, vol. III (Beirut: Dar Ihya' al-Turath al-Arabi, n.d.), pp. 307-308. See also Ahmad Dallal, "The Origins and Objectives of Islāmic Revivalist Thought, 1750-1850," Journal of the American Oriental Society 113/3 (1993).

⁴¹ Commins 137

⁴² Ibid

⁴³ Abdul Hakim al-Matroudi, The anbalī School of Law and Ibn Taymiyya: Conflict or Conciliation, Culture and Civilisation in the Middle East Series (London and New York: Routledge, 2006) 48–9

⁴⁴ Ibid 20

⁴⁵ 4.149

⁴⁶ Siyar 16/457

⁴⁷ In another of al- ahabī’s works Ta kirat al-huffaz, we read of one Ibn al- alā (1181 - 1245 CE) that: “He was salafī, of sound `aqīdah, abstaining from the interpretations of the scholars of kalām, believing in what has been textually established, without recourse to unjustified interpretation or elaboration.” Tadhkirah al-huffaz, vol. 4 (Da'irah al-Ma'arif al-'Uthmaniyyah, India) 1431

⁴⁸ Badawi 99

⁴⁹ Albert Hourani, Arabic Thought In the Liberal Age 1798-1939 (Cambridge University Press, 2008) 224

⁵⁰ Badawi 99

⁵¹ Ibid 100

⁵² Ibid 98

⁵³ Ibid 100

⁵⁴ Ibid 101

⁵⁵ Adams 199

⁵⁶ Ibid 103

⁵⁷ Adams 203

⁵⁸ Badawi 102

⁵⁹ Ibid 103

⁶⁰ Ibid 102

⁶¹ Ibid 103

⁶² Badawi 103

⁶³ Commins138

⁶⁴ Ibid

⁶⁵ Ibid

⁶⁶ Ibid 139

⁶⁷ Commins 139

⁶⁸ Ibid

⁶⁹ Ibid

⁷⁰ Ibid

⁷¹ In Ri ā’s apologetic writing for Ibn Sa`ud and the Wahhaabiyyah argued the “Saudi-Wahhabi side in the battle for Hijaz.” Ibid 138

⁷² Commins 109

⁷³ Ibid 108

⁷⁴ See Moaddel, Chapter 13 on “Jordanian Exceptionalism”

⁷⁵ Commins 109

⁷⁶ Ibid 138

⁷⁷ Ibid 76

⁷⁸ Ibid 107

⁷⁹ Commins 108

⁸⁰ Ibid 137

⁸¹ Ibid 4

⁸² In the words of one Wahhābi which I interviewed

⁸³ The Historical Influences and Effects of the Methodologies of al-Ikhwaan al-Muslimoon Upon the Salaf “Historical Development of the Methodologies of al-Ikhwaan al-Muslimeen And Their Effect and Influence Upon Contemporary Salafee Dawah”: Part 8 http://www.salafipublications.com/sps/downloads/pdf/MNJ180008.pdf

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