Badar Al Abri
In recent days, I watched a religious debate that I could not finish because of the preconceived assumptions it carried—something akin to what classical scholars called “compound ignorance” on both sides—and because of the absence of a shared common ground between them. The problem is not in such debates themselves; rather, the real problem is that they may produce a future generation living under sectarian illusions from which our societies have long suffered. In the past, sects were distant from one another, living within their own worlds and particularities, so they focused on defining their own distinct identities and doctrines. Today, however, sects have become intertwined, and their particularities are exposed to one another. Therefore, they should now search for what unites them, not for what divides them.
All Islamic sects—and indeed religions in general—revolve between two histories: the history of the circumstances surrounding their emergence and the history of the social evolution of the sect itself. No Islamic sect today lives exactly according to the conditions of its original emergence; otherwise, it would merely belong to history. The survival of any sect indicates that there has been a social interaction enabling it to endure, whether through political patronage, tribal support, or social adaptability. Yet no sect today can remain identical to the image envisioned by its founding figures. These historical interactions cannot be marginalized when studying sects, because sects are not rigid mathematical equations; rather, they are human interactions shaped by particularity and historical circumstances. It is this reality that continually reexamines these particularities. Otherwise—as I mentioned earlier—a sect risks stagnation, becoming either a relic of history or falling into isolation, weakness, and decline.
Let us take the political aspect as an example. The origins of Islamic political sects revolved around three main trajectories: absolute consultation (shūrā), Quraysh-centered leadership, or textual designation (naṣṣ). As I mentioned in my book Humanizing the State (Ansanat al-Dawlah), “absolute consultation in Oman, for example, practically transformed into hereditary rule within the tribe, namely among the Yahmad. When the Ya‘rubi state arose in 1624 after the fall of Portuguese occupation, despite the formal process of private and public allegiance, the Ya‘rubi state practiced hereditary succession within one family. Domination by force later appeared during the Al-Busaidi era, which became a hereditary state. The same applied to the Rustamid state… Even though the imamate began as consultative in principle, it later remained hereditary within the same family.”
Likewise, “the Quraysh-centered tendency also transformed into hereditary rule, either within a branch of the tribe or within a family, as happened in the Umayyad and Abbasid states. Leadership was no longer based on electing the most qualified Qurashi; instead, succession by appointment became established. Some scholars even argue that ‘the Qurashi caliphate practically ended after the Abbasid caliph al-Mu‘tasim (d. 227 AH), when Turkish military forces took control of the state, reducing the caliph to a salaried official. Eventually, even the nominal Qurashi caliphate disappeared at the hands of the Ottoman Turks.’”
“As for the imamate according to the doctrine of textual designation, it too did not escape hereditary succession.” With the connection between caliphate and hereditary succession also came domination by force. ‘Ali ‘Abd al-Raziq (d. 1966) believed that “force was always the pillar of the caliphate, and history does not present a single caliph without evoking in our minds the armed awe surrounding him, the overwhelming power protecting him, and the unsheathed swords defending him.”’
“With the fall of the Ottoman state in 1922, the caliphate came to an end, and the modern nation-state began to emerge.” Islamic political readings of the state then opened themselves to new concepts such as social contract, citizenship, reconsideration of minority jurisprudence, openness to constitutions, and the codification of political and social jurisprudence. Thus, the state within Islamic political sects today is not the same state that existed after the Saqifah event, nor the Umayyad Qurashi state, nor the Abbasid textualist state, nor the Ottoman state of domination. Although those historical conditions produced their own political jurisprudence according to their respective times, all Islamic sects today live within completely different circumstances. Naturally, therefore, the concept of the state evolves within them rather than remaining frozen in its original formative stage.
The same applies to theological and doctrinal sects, whose origins were also political, centering on the issue of succession—from the Saqifah and the killing of عثمان, to the battles of the Camel, Ṣiffīn, and Nahrawān, and then the Umayyad state. The issue of the Companions was present within a political framework of loyalty and disavowal. People at that time were not united in one perspective, even among the Companions themselves. The theory of the universal uprightness of the Companions or unconditional reverence for them did not emerge until the later part of the first half of the Abbasid era. Although this represented a developed intellectual stage, it nevertheless remained a sectarian vision whose negative effects still persist today whenever sectarian views are extracted from the depths of their classical texts.
The issue is not the opinions contained in these books, for they are part of a human heritage that cannot be ignored. However, they are a heritage shaped by the conditions of their sectarian era and are not closed or absolute divine texts. We cannot judge present-day sects by scattered writings from their historical traditions alone. Rather, they should be studied through a comprehensive intellectual approach that considers the historical evolution and interaction of sectarian visions, while attempting to highlight what unites them. The greatest common ground among them is the glorification of God Himself. All nations struggle and disagree over historical symbols, and the الأمة الإسلامية is no exception. Yet these disagreements and conflicts belong to history; they should not become another deity for which people display fanaticism alongside God. Those communities have passed away, and they earned what they earned, while we are responsible for what we earn according to our own reality, not theirs or their historical circumstances.
The same applies to the development of jurisprudential schools, whether regarding the foundations and legal methodologies of a sect, linguistic and logical interpretive tools, objectives-based and interest-based reasoning, or the influence of changing realities, contemporary issues, and modern knowledge systems. This explains the enormous expansion of legal encyclopedias, because reality itself often proves stronger than the original foundations of the sect. The same also applies to mystical and spiritual dimensions within schools of gnosis, Sufism, and ethical conduct in general. There are many examples of this recognized by every serious student of the history and evolution of sects.
For this reason, wise thinkers search for the unifying theories within sects and study them from an external perspective characterized by broad humanism. Through this lens, they understand the details and particularities of sects, examining them descriptively or critically with the spirit of knowledge, scholarship, and love—not with the spirit of belittlement, marginalization, exclusion, closed binaries, and preconceived judgments.
This is the path of the wise. As for the immature, they search through the depths of books for scattered details, presenting them outside their historical and intellectual contexts. They judge others according to the sect into which they were born and convinced themselves to belong. They excuse exaggerated details in their own tradition while magnifying isolated details in the traditions of others. They live within a closed cycle of mutual ignorance, portraying themselves to the public—through debates and similar performances—as defenders of truth and experts on the “other.” In reality, both sides merely present illusions in the name of intellectual debate. What we truly need to transcend is not debate itself, but rather to move toward understanding the other and seeking the common ground capable of realizing coexistence, progress, revival, and renewal within our present lived reality.
