Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

In light of the modern tendency of some to engage in wanton takfir, it would be irresponsible to not point out some complexities that may relate to takfir in the west. There are two extremes with regards to takfir: one that denies its existence, and the other that engages in it excessively in contravention of the established legal rules – the latter extreme amongst contemporary Muslims has been well illustrated by Yusuf Qaradawi in Islamic Awakening: Between Rejection & Extremism and Abdul Rahman al-Luwaihiq’s Religious Extremism in the Lives of Contemporary Muslims. The fact remains that takfir is a method of Islamic law, and is necessary because the Sacred Law does have numerous provisions that differ dependent on whether one is a Muslim or a non-Muslim, in which each of the two is treated differently in a single situation. The most common areas where distinctions in faith are vitally important are the ritual prayer, burials, leadership, testimony, marriage and divorce and inheritance.

Firstly, al-Luwaihiq has spoken of “the judgment that someone else is a disbeliever is a very dangerous judgment with grave consequences [which Qaradawi spells out as examples]. No Muslim may take this step unless he has a clear proof and unquestionable evidence.” Thus Muhammad Salih al-Munajjid has issued the following excellent advice:

“Because the matter of takfir is so serious, and mistakes therein are so grave, the seeker of knowledge, especially if he is a beginner, should refrain from indulging in that, and he should focus on acquiring beneficial knowledge that will set his own affairs straight in this world and the Hereafter.”

Secondly, Nawawi, in his commentary of Sahih Muslim, says that anyone who “denies” (jahada) a

“necessarily known matter of the religion of Islam (ma ya’lam min din al-islam daruratan ) is judged with apostasy and disbelief, unless he is new to converting to Islam or raised in a remote place, or for a similar reason was unknown to him. The latter is to be informed of these matters. Yet if he persists in his previous beliefs, then he is adjudged to be a disbeliever.”

In this regard, I endorse the opinion that I heard from Haitham al-Haddad, who is a scholar who operates as a mufti in England and performs the function through the Islamic Sharia Council of the UK: whereby he said that people facing a legal situation that possibly entails the apostasy or disbelief of a relative or spouse should not make an independent ruling; rather, they should seek an official adjudication before a Council or mufti in case one has not truly understood the position of the one accused of apostasy or disbelief; thus an accused has the legal right to have their side heard fully. This is the safer approach and one that dispels any ambiguity and satisfies Sacred Law considerations, in case one seeks a divorce and wants to remarry or to exclude someone from a will that is consistent with both the Sacred Law and the law of the land in the west. Of course, not every instance of takfir requires recourse to a mufti, but it is best if ambiguity or legal requirements dictate such caution.

Thirdly, Luwaihiq states that “one of the accepted principles among the ahl al-sunnah wa al-jamaah [the people of orthodox Islam] is the principle of differentiating between a general declaration of [an action being] kufr and an individual himself becoming a disbeliever.” This helps further clarify the nuance in the second point above from Nawawi concerning those who deny a necessarily known matter of the religion. Luwaihiq then elaborates on this point by using an explanation from Ibn Taymiyya, whereby innocently ignorant people are initially excused from being considered disbelievers when committing what is considered kufr, especially if from an incorrect interpretation from the sects of the Muslims.

Fourthly, one only has a need of getting into specific takfir if they have a direct legal situation that requires them to determine the status of someone’s Islam, and some practical examples of Islamic law were referred to earlier. Therefore one has no need to form a specific opinion about some author who has no connection with one’s life, although one can identify an argument as kufr without having to definitively say the author is a non-Muslim. Furthermore, one has even more reason to not speculate on the condition of dead Muslims, who can never be raised back to this world in order to be fully challenged on their beliefs in the hope of them clarifying what they actually meant by their words that have caused controversy. If one follows the saying of ‘Ali (may God be well pleased with him) that we stated in the introduction, then one can simply take the good from living  or dead authors and speakers, and simply leave what does not attest to the truth, without feeling the need to establish someone’s particular case in such abstract instances.

The Modern Societal Implications of Belief in Islam’s Finality

The postmodern western philosophical history and outlook has been described by Richard Tarnas in The Passion of the Western Mind, as being “tolerant of ambiguity and pluralism” and a “more sympathetic attitude toward repressed or unorthodox perspectives and a more self-critical view of currently established ones.” Moreover, Tarnas writes that there is an “insistence on the pluralism of truth.” If these features are taken as true – and I do take them to be true – then one understands the reality underlying the following words of Akbar Ahmed, in his Postmodernism and Islam: Predicament and Promise: “While Muslims appreciate the spirit of tolerance, optimism and the drive for self-knowledge in postmodernism, they also recognize the threat it poses them with its cynicism and irony.” The threat, of course, is that Islam’s orthodoxy will fall victim to the intellectual milieu, and the only “Islam” that will be allowed a meaningful space in the postmodern west will be one cast in the dye of postmodernism, as opposed to one dictated to by the sources of Islam. In other words, the fear for Muslims is that only a postmodern reformation of Islam, along postmodernist principles and conclusions, will be considered acceptable on any level.

In this light, one understands the social reasons behind why a heresy like perennial philosophy can get such a welcome from people, Muslim and non-Muslim, in the modern world, in particular the modern west. For those Muslims who develop a leaning towards perennial philosophy, one is able to hazard a guess as to the social factors that might explain such a conditioning; much in the same way that sociologists and anthropologists might explain the orthodoxy of those living in the traditional Muslim heartlands (and Ernest Gellner’s Postmodernism, Reason and Religion is indicative of such controversial attempts at explaining the phenomenon). Only the test of time will prove where the Muslims of the west will sway. Despite being anti-modern, perennial philosophy is decidedly postmodern in its theology, despite their claims to religions’ “orthodoxy” (for example, see their passionate disavowal of the Second Vatican Council of the 1960’s).

The modern liberal drive for the universal validity of all religions and interpretations, with a wider purview than even perennial philosophy, is a means of attempting to make the world a safer place, free from wars and conflicts based on religion, which is a noble goal, although it simply bespeaks of a critical loss of faith or a belief in the God who reveals His messages to mankind through Prophets. In relation to Christian treatment of Muslims, one can see a liberal basis for wanting to draw these religions together because seemingly Christian-inspired massacres of Muslims have occurred through history, from the Crusades and the Christian Re-conquest of Spain to the tragedy of the Bosnian Muslims in the twentieth century. Nevertheless, Islam’s history has been far less intolerant and bloody: starting with acceptance and protection of Christian and Jewish rights under the Prophet Muhammad (may the peace and blessings of God be upon him) and his Companions (may God be well pleased with them all), including ‘Umar upon conquering Jerusalem, and the benevolence and compassion shown by Salah al-Din Ayyubi upon recapturing Jerusalem from the Crusaders. Montgomery Watt sums up the historical and moral high-ground shown by the Muslims, in his Islamic Political Thought: “On the whole there was more genuine toleration of non-Muslims under Islam than there was of non-Christians in Medieval Christian states.”

Thus Muslims have not needed modern liberalism to teach them how to deal justly with non-Muslims, nor to teach them to not force their faith upon others. Yet this is unsurprising for students of Islam. To begin with, God informs us in the Qur’an: There shall be no compulsion in [acceptance of] the religion (2:256). For Muslims, this verse has not been an abstract ideal, buried away far from their political conscience, but rather it has been their civilizational modus operandi as argued by Thomas Arnold in his Preaching of Islam, whereby he illustrates the peaceful and voluntary spread of the faith’s acceptance in the heart of people: no Inquisitions or conversions by the sword. A Muslim regaining of their faith, its history and the disavowal of an inferiority complex would allow Muslims, collectively, to show that the orthodox belief in Islam’s finality does not mean an intolerant and belligerent attitude. History bears testimony to this, not imaginative fancy. Tim Winter, in “The Last Trump Card”, further elaborates on the issue of Muslim tolerance despite believing in orthodox finality:

“Hick, Knitter and their Muslim travelling-companions are, we may conclude, mistaken in suggesting that foundational claims for the present centrality of one’s own community in salvation history ineluctably lead believers towards hubris, discord and confrontation. While this appears to have been the case with the very absolute claims for uniqueness made by many forms of western Christianity, it is less unambiguously valid in the case of other faith communities such as Islam, where a scriptural doctrine of non-categoric supersession has in practice often underpinned a level of religious coexistence which has been sustained for many centuries, and can today easily support a theology of an authentic esteem for the Other. The demands of living in an intertwined world are urgent, but need not force the religions to renounce core aspects of their self-understanding, as long as that self-understanding does not entail the demonisation of the Other and the adoption of a Manichean view of history and the world.”

[For someone so heavily identified as a spokesman for “traditionalism” in Islam, it is of interest to note Winter’s endorsement in the conclusion of this essay for a reform of Islamic law’s traditional rules for non-Muslims living under Islam, whereby he agrees with Abdul-Hamid AbuSulayman with regards to such “medieval constructs.” This, in itself, opens the scope of inter-Muslim dialogue, aside from the past narrow group polemics of salafis/Wahhabis, traditionalists/Sufis and modernists/activists.]

On the practical level, following on from his sentiments above, Tim Winter (writing under his Arabic penname Abdal-Hakim Murad), in an essay entitled “Can Liberalism Tolerate Islam?”,  has spoken of how Muslim, Jewish and Christian “conservatives”, as opposed to those he calls “liberal religionists” who have dominated – to little success, he argues – the “interfaith industry”, can work together for the achievement of their many common goals and objectives. This is an interesting challenge, and history will narrate if it emerges. [It is hoped that Winter’s inter-religious agenda can be turned to the inter-Muslim divide amongst the most orthodox Muslims (the Shariah-orientated Sufis, salafis and activists). Hitherto, the drive for comprehensive orthodox co-operation on the multitude of matters that they agree upon has not received the same sort of open call to unity as Winter has displayed in “The Last Trump Card” for inter-faith co-operation; and the absence in this regard is not just Winter’s, but is a consistent inadequacy across the board from the various orthodox-striving groups, with very few exceptions of note.]

Mohammed Fadel, in “No Salvation Outside Islam”, makes the following conclusion, which is of great interest for those liberals who greatly fear the consequences of Muslim’s believing that Islam is the sole valid religion today: “20^th century Muslim Modernist theology provides an important historical example in support of Rawls’ contention that not only can democracies tolerate theologies that teach “No salvation outside the Church,” but also that, far from subverting the stability of a democracy, liberal democracy, if anything, is more likely to subvert theological exclusivity.” Many will find his analysis of Yusuf Qaradawi particularly interesting, due to the latter being “vilified” in the west for his views on Israeli-Palestinian affairs and other matters of Islamic law. Fadel points out Qaradawi’s theological and legal discussions – which talk of an expanded existence of an “excuse” for certain non-Muslims in relation to ultimate salvation – and how “The Islamic solution to the political problem of religious and doctrinal pluralism, therefore, is not doctrinal syncretism…but rather the recognition that Islamic substantive law treats just, peaceful non-Muslims differently from those who are unjust and hostile to Islam.” Hence Qaradawi propounds “The Islamic grounds he identifies for political cooperation with non-Muslims…as follows:

• The Muslim’s belief that each individual has dignity without regard to his religion, race or color;
• The Muslim’s belief that religious difference is part of the divine plan that granted human beings freedom and choice;
• Muslims are not obligated to judge non-believers on account of their non-belief, or punish them on account of their error; instead, accountability is for God on the Day of Judgment and their reward (or punishment) is left to God; and,
• A Muslim’s belief that God commands justice and loves fairness, and that He hates injustice and punishes the unjust, even if the perpetrator is a Muslim and the victim a polytheist.”

Now Qaradawi’s views are only one view, but what they highlight is how even those perceived as the most politically extreme of orthodox Muslim clerics are going to great lengths to try and build a future society that greatly accommodates and incorporates those still deemed, theologically, to be unbelievers. This indicates how socially expansive and inclusive the theologically-exclusive position is for vast numbers of Muslims.

In conclusion, the Muslim obligation to treat all people well, and to alleviate harm from them, dictates a natural Islamic compassion that transcends whether the recipient of a Muslim’s good will and actions is a Muslim or not. With the media onslaught against Islam, it is not surprising that many are fearful of what it means to adhere to Islam or to believe that it is God’s final religion to all men. Yet the positive contribution that orthodox Muslims exhibit on a daily basis in the west is enough of a proof to disprove the claim that such a religious outlook is a threat to cordial and brotherly relations between Muslims and non-Muslims. Indeed, a greater orthodox, religious adherence is, arguably, a better means of safeguarding us all from the lawlessness of irreligious Muslims – see the scale of crimes committed by irreligious Muslims in England – and  the threats of violent terror from Muslim extremists (as we have too often sadly seen in the west of late). It is of note that one of the most suspiciously viewed orthodox groups, the salafis, have made rigorous strides to combat terrorism and extremism in the west whilst still proclaiming the right to hold traditional and orthodox opinions on a multitude of issues – for this salafi trend, see the activities of the Brixton Mosque, London, as recounted in the PhD entitled “Countering Terrorism in the UK: A Convert Community Perspective” (Exeter University, 2009) by the mosque’s ex-Chairman Anthony (Abdul Haqq) Baker; and a speech by the Director-General of Mercy Mission and Alkauthar Institute Tawfique Chowdhury entitled “Muslim Scholars—West’s Natural Allies in Fighting Scourge of Terrorism”. Other orthodox groups, like Islamic movement activists and Shariah-orientated Sufis, already have a long history of promoting and achieving cohesive communal relations in England amongst people of different faiths and no faith, so there is no reason to doubt that it can continue to do so in the future, if God so wills. Thus, in the end, it is facts, and not tabloid and gutter journalism, that establishes the positive and beneficial role of Muslims in the west, even when holding the conviction in their exclusivist theology. How sad it would be if this immense contribution was to be ungratefully dismissed and ignored. To God we make our pleas for success and seeing matters for what they really are.

Photo: Christa Lohman

Shaykh Akram is a classicist-traditionalist: he favours classical scholarship, and he fits, on the whole, within the normative intellectual paradigm of late Islamic history. At the same time, he is a great upholder of the highest standards of scholarship so he has a dynamic relationship with the Islamic scholarly tradition that he hails from. This vigour was on full display as a learned audience attended Shaykh Akram being hosted by Doha Mosque and the Safeenah Fellowship over a weekend in which an usul al-fiqh primer – namely, al-Waraqat of Imam Juwayni – was covered. In my own parting gratitude to Shaykh Akram after the course, I mentioned to him that whether we agreed, disagreed or were still undecided about many of his discussions, we were sure that he made us think and had diligently prepared himself for the weekend. As such, teachers like him are priceless and highly under-valued in our community. After the course, Shaykh Akram advised me to do a write-up of the weekend, and with great hesitation (due to knowing my own deficiencies) I agreed and proceeded with the suggestion out of respect and honour for my teacher. What follows is a presentation and discussion of some major themes – not fine details of technical differences of a less practical benefit – that are worth our consideration as a western community that needs to still successfully grapple with the challenge of facing the modern world with an authentic Islamic voice. Nevertheless, this discussion has not been read by Shaykh Akram, so it is not some official representation of him. Moreover, I hope that when my own voice is speaking it is clearly not Shaykh Akram’s.

The Purpose of Teaching

The Shaykh commenced the sessions with his usual disavowal of egotism. Thus Imam Abu Hanifa, he reminded us, taught people to understand, and not to merely follow him. Now such a statement coming from Shaykh Akram cannot possibly be taken as some denouncement of following the Hanafi school, for, as he pointed out, he is himself ninety-nine percent “Hanafi”; hence the one percent of issues where he is seen to be controversial can hardly be taken as casting him out of the Hanafi fold. Instead, such reminders were there to inspire a learned audience to critically engage with the presentations, and to even challenge his assertions. Indeed, this was a gathering of passing around jewels amongst jewellers – apart from me – and not a gathering of casting jewels amongst children to play with them like toys, oblivious of their purpose and true worth. Therefore, Shaykh Akram exhorted the audience to make knowledge their own possession, and not simply the quotation of their teachers (including him). For him, it is the Greek tradition that makes pure followers of their teachers, not Islam!

The Case of Usul al-fiqh

Usul al-fiqh was pointed out as having the same relation to Islamic law as grammar has to language: it is a science that protects you against error. Moreover, the science discusses four matters according to the fuqaha: 1) ahkam (rulings); 2) adillah (sources of the ahkam); 3) how to derive rulings from the sources (culminating in the science of ijtihad, or independent legal reasoning); and 4) qawa’id (legal precepts) and masalih (benefits). The early jurists like Abu Hanifa and Malik had a pure Islamic understanding of the sources; yet, after the second hijri century, Muslim usul came to be dominated by the Muslim engagement with the Greek-Hellenic tradition. This led to the division of the usuliyyin first put forward by Ibn Khaldun in al-Muqaddimah: namely, the division between the tariqa al-fuqaha and the tariqa al-mutakallimin. Of course, such a binary understanding, as is usually the case with such attempts at simplification, obscures the method of those who tried to join the two tariqas. Shaykh Akram lamented that usul al-fiqh lost importance after the third hijri century, as it was not actually used to produce fiqh, because in most cases usul became preoccupied with philosophical generalities (kulliyyat) divorced from practical legal cases and/or fiqh became a process of producing fatwas according to naza’ir (taking a known legal case and then applying it to similar matters, as opposed to looking at the foundational sources for direct answers to new occurrences). In terms of preserving a “pure” theory of usul al-fiqh, Shaykh Akram considered the Hanafis to be less affected by Greek-inspired ‘ilm al-kalam than the other madhhabs.

As with Shaykh Akram’s approach to theology – which favours a commitment to the early community (salaf), without fitting into the modern “salafi school” in its philosophising theology – he favoured a revival of usul al-fiqh along the lines demanded by a profound reading of the foundational sources of the Quran and Hadith, without being hemmed in by any school of thought from any of the religious sciences. In this revival of usul, Shaykh Akram said that the Prophetic method is the only guide and guaranteed way of attaining Divine favour. In this regard, one sees the Prophetic method being one of having a profound understanding and application of the Quran, first and foremost, not as a mere theoretical principle but as a living reality. This was illustrated by one of Shaykh Akram’s personal reflections on the kaffara (atonement) for sexual intercourse (jima’) during the day in Ramadan, which is not mentioned in the Quran, but reflected in the Sunnah in a hadith in Bukhari and Muslim (see Shaykh Salih Munajjid here). Now the Quran does mention three kaffaras for: 1) killing unintentionally (qatl al-khata’); 2) broken oaths; and 3) zihar (a husband making allusive comments about one’s wife and her marital status). Shaykh Akram showed how the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) made qiyas (analogy) with the Quranic kaffara for zihar for illegal sexual intercourse during the day in Ramadan because the former makes the halal into the haram, in a similar way to how illegal sexual intercourse makes the haram into the halal. Furthermore, the reason for the kaffara for illegal sexual relations during the day in Ramadan being different to the atonement to missed ritual prayers (salat) or zakat relates to the distinction between zarf (that which is obligatory in its time and what is similar to it) and mi’yar (that which can only be performed in one time). Whereas a missed ritual prayer or missed hajj can be made-up (qada) at another prayer time or pilgrimage time, respectively, a fast of Ramadan cannot be atoned for in another Ramadan, where only the current obligatory fast can be performed, without a spoiled or missed fast being made-up at the same time.

In the interests of brevity, I will not recount in full an example that Shaykh Akram gave to further highlight the Prophet’s strictly Quranic method. The case referred to al-muharramat, which are women that one cannot marry, and they comprise two categories in the Quran: 1) those forbidden by blood (mother and her ascendants, and daughters and her descendants) (al-asl wa’l-far); and 2) those forbidden through the breastfeeding of milk. Now the Quran outlines all the blood relations, but does not recount a full list for those forbidden through breastfeeding. Now a hadith in Sahih Muslim has the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) outlining that what is forbidden by lineage is forbidden, likewise, through breastfeeding. While some scholars see this hadith as adding (ziyada) to the Quranic list for breastfeeding of milk, Shaykh Akram pointed out that the hadith is actually merely an explanation (bayan) of the Quran, in this instance, whereby the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) has not considered the Quran to be omitting the relevant prohibited women through breastfeeding; rather, the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) saw that the Quran, in its beautiful conciseness, was not going to merely repeat all the categories again that had been stated in relation to those prohibited by blood, thus the Quran was simply mentioning the absolute minimal essential headings of those prohibited by breastfeeding, with the rest of the relevant categories implied.

His project is also conceived as disavowing the kalamist-inspired limitation of the Quran and Sunnah (as exemplified by great and still highly admirable imams like Juwayni), whereby the two sources were seen as very limited and hence the perceived need to produce “foreign” principles (often derived from Greek philosophy – touched upon later in relation to logical concepts like hadd, or definition, and qiyas concepts like qiyas kulli (complete and general analogy)) in order to adequately address peoples’ countless needs. Shaykh Akram said that such an understanding derived from misunderstanding the later division of knowledge into 1) shari’i (scriptural) and 2) aqli (purely rational, non-scriptural). For Shaykh Akram, the shari’i included the aqli, but proponents of the latter often failed to perceive the aqli-comprehensiveness of the shari’i; and he sought to counter this and raise its discussion in western Islamic scholarly discussions. Furthermore, he pointed out that kalamist usuliyyin take knowledge apart from reality (like philosophers), but the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) knew the condition of his people and would rule accordingly (hence the various narrations about what is the best action). In such cases in the Prophetic model, there is, for Shaykh Akram, no ta’arud (conflict) between religious texts, as the text of al-Waraqat states, but simply occasions of ikhtilaf (different contexts addressed accordingly).

While Shaykh Akram emphasised the importance of knowing usul al-fiqh for having a correct understanding of the Quran and Sunnah, so that the Lord’s message can be correctly comprehended, he also outlined its limitations and alternative ways of mastering the Sacred Law. For example, he argued that early jurists like Abu Hanifa and Malik, while being undoubtedly methodical in their own traditions (Malik in the Medinese and Abu Hanifa in the Iraqi tradition of Ibrahim Nakha’i), they were also natural jurists in a way that later great scholars like Juwayni were not. To illustrate the point, he highlighted how knowledge starts as a’yan (individual cases) and then moves into ‘umum (general theories). In this way, one can become a master jurist by reading profoundly and extensively the Quran and Sunnah and the judgements of the early community (through the musannaf literature of ‘Abd al-Razzaq and Ibn Abi Shayba, in particular), without a great deal of philosophical and abstract usul al-fiqh; in the same way that one can master a language by reading a large amount of literature, rather than just merely concentrating on grammar.

Moreover, this natural juristic expertise was encouraged for contemporary jurists to embrace a dynamic perspective on fatwa-giving, as illustrated, firstly, by the Bukhari narration referred above about the Companion (may Allah be pleased with him) who contravened the fast of Ramadan through daylight sexual intercourse. Now the narration gives a great deal of flexibility, whereby the Companion says he could not fast for two months consecutively because of his weakness for sex; and the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) allows him flexibility, apparently, on that basis. Shaykh Akram highlighted that no madhhab displays the flexibility of the hadith in such cases. Instead they often enjoin, in such cases, the fasting of two months consecutively for those who do not own a slave; and Shaykh Akram emphasised that the hadith showed the great nature of the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) in calling people back to God (da’i). In addition, Shaykh Akram narrated an example of juristic dynamism displayed by Yahya ibn Yahya al-Laythi al-Maliki (which can also be read here), who was asked for a fatwa from a ruler who had engaged in illegal daylight sexual intercourse during Ramadan; and al-Laythi’s fatwa was that the ruler would have to fast two months consecutively, despite the normative fatwa being that he should (and in this case he could) free a slave, because al-Laythi reasoned that such a ruler could free a slave a day for committing such sexual transgressions throughout Ramadan. Shaykh Akram highlighted thus that contemporary jurists should exhibit such dynamism as exhibited in the hadith and the instance of al-Laythi; however, many jurists do not display such expansiveness and can only work according to an order laid-down in a classical manual, without any deeper understanding. His call is not to dispense with madhhabs, as he is Hanafi, but rather a demand that those who want to deliver public fatwas should be true legal experts, and should not be semi-expert nor unnecessarily rigid!

Complexity of Ahkam

As al-Waraqat states, ahkam can be articulated as seven: wajib, mandub, mubah, mahzur, makruh, sahih and fasid. Shaykh Akram’s concern with the first 5 rulings is that they are not properly defined by later scholars and the implications are not set-out properly. So the wajib, or fard, has many categories that are not the same in all instances. For example, a Shafi’i considering it fard for a follower in a group prayer to recite the fatiha is not the same as the obligation to not drink alcohol. Even actions of sunna mu’akkada (confirmed Prophetic non-obligatory actions) are not the same; for example, the Prophet (may the peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) once made du’a against someone who did not eat with their right-hand (a confirmed sunna). Ijtihad, he reminded, is only for unclear matters; and for such cases the Prophetic method was not to explicitly set-out the difference between obligations and recommendations; for example, the case (and hence the difference of opinion, or ikhtilaf) on something like the witr prayer. The Shaykh did not completely dismiss following such later distinctions – for he said that non-experts must make taqlid of a legal expert – but he wanted to highlight the theoretical problem; and how the later attempts at specific judgements not explicitly explained in the Prophetic statements did not resolve any perceived confusion.

The Nature of Language

Shaykh Akram conducted a fascinating discussion of language – as one would expect from a Nadwi. This included a respectful presentation of Ibn Taymiyya’s discussion of majaz and haqiqi (metaphorical and literal meanings of words) as contained in his Kitab al-iman (which is included in his al-Majmu’ al-fatawa). In summary, Ibn Taymiyya’s denial of majaz, even if we are not convinced of his theory, is not an ignorant and simplistic one, but one rooted in seeking precision and denying conclusions that are, at best, conjectural. So Ibn Taymiyya’s contention was that nobody in the salaf from the fuqaha employed majaz (as he understood the conjectural nature of assigning majaz to any given word), and who can really assign the meaning of a word? Also, even if a word was first used in the Quran and Sunnah and now has a common meaning, can anyone be certain that the original Arabs had no other understanding of the word that would render a majaz attribution redundant? Finally, Ibn Taymiyya would ask such majaz enthusiasts whether Arabs ever used words unconditionally? Now this sophisticated argument from Ibn Taymiyya is only one that expert linguists can faithfully engage with, it is not one for simple imitative scholarship.

In addition, Shaykh Akram pointed out that the meanings assigned by usuliyyin to matters such as ‘amm, khass, zahir and nass suffer from the same openness to criticism as terms like the fard and sunna. Furthermore, the aqsam al-kalam (types of speech) section in al-Waraqat was subjected to a grammarian’s criticism, where Juwayni’s points of kalam being acceptable if consisting of only a fi’l and a harf (where opponents would say that an ism is required) or that it could consist of simply an ism and a harf (only supported by Jurjani) are matters of contention.

Naskh

During the class, this was the only discussion which Shaykh Akram mentioned should be kept in the classroom. When I later privately discussed it with him, and I mentioned how some might understand it, he advised me to clarify it in this present overview. In light of his definition of naskh, it is appropriate that I do not actually translate it in the normal manner, namely, abrogation. This is because Shaykh Akram defined naskh as taking into consideration the situation and condition of people, so one can bring into effect what has been “abrogated.” In other words, if the circumstances of those “abrogated” verses of the Quran emerge then the significance or wisdom (hikma) of them again becomes effective. To illustrate, by way of clarification (and this is the example I privately used with Shaykh Akram and he agreed with my understanding), wine remains haram, or prohibited, in its ruling, or hukm; but if one encounters a Muslim struggling with the problem of drinking wine, then, although the hukm does not change, the scholar should take guidance from the abrogated, accept the fact that most people only gradually leave sins they have become addicted to, and try to advise a gradually realistic programme for the person to effectively leave the sin. Nevertheless, and this is where Shaykh Akram emphatically cautioned against any abuse of such theory, such efforts to utilise the mansukh could only be performed by completely expert scholars (mujtahids).

This type of hikma, as opposed to fatwa, reminds me of Ibn Rajab’s commentary of hadith 8 in his Jami’ al-‘ulum wa’l-hikam, where he writes: “The Prophet (may the peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) did not stipulate that those who came to him wishing Islam had to cling to the prayer and the zakah. On the contrary, it has been narrated from him that he accepted Islam from a people who stipulated that they should not have to pay zakah…[After narrating traditions in Musnad Ahmad to this effect regarding converts seeking to leave zakat, jihad and prayer without bowing, or ruku’,] Imam Ahmad took the stand based on these hadith and said, ‘[The acceptance of] Islam can be sound with an unacceptable precondition, but the person is then required to fulfil all of the judgements and rulings of Islam’” (trans. Abdassamad Clarke, in Ibn Rajab, The Compendium of Knowledge and Wisdom, pp. 130-1).

This discussion reminded me of my mother’s case just before she converted to Islam (may Allah have mercy on her and everyone who says amin to this prayer). She did not have the strength of character to immediately adopt the hijab and she worried about converting and not donning the head scarf. I therefore sought the advice of an English-based scholar Shaykh Abdullah al-Juday’, and he advised me to tell my mother to convert, even if she did not adopt the hijab, as long as she did not consider it lawful to not wear the hijab. I mentioned to Shaykh Akram that this story reminded me of what I understood to be his intended meaning behind saying the mansukh would again be applicable. And he agreed with me, Alhamdulillah.

Scholarly Consensus (ijma’) on Juristic Matters

Shaykh Akram praised the ijma’ section in Imam Shafi’i’s Risala. Furthermore, he pointed that often the ijma’ declared in fiqh works in later madhhab history are often instances where no ijma’ exists. He and I discussed in private how madhhab claims of ijma’ on three declarations of divorce being three divorces, even if intended as only one divorce – which is the position of the four Sunni schools of law, in opposition to Ibn Taymiyya and a number of contemporary scholars – is not a clear and binding consensus (al-ijma’ al-sarih), but is rather a non-binding and non-absolute consensus (al-ijma’ al-sukuti). Moreover, he highlighted that the conditions of absolute ijma’ for later generations are simply theoretical and have never occurred as theorised, whereby generations after the Companions (may Allah be well pleased with them) reached such a consensus and bound future generations to it. In addition, he argued that the jama’a (group) that the hadith tell the Muslim umma to follow means the Companions (may Allah be well pleased with them all).

Transmitted Reports (akhbar) and the Sunnah

Our dear teacher (may Allah increase him and his family with all good) gave the logical advice that the science of reports is taken from the experts of hadith rather than texts of usul al-fiqh (including the one being taught). Although he was quite positive about the section in al-Waraqat, he was critical of the hadith section in the Hanafi Usul al-Shashi (which Shaykh Akram had edited and published, with a foreword by Shaykh Yusuf Qaradawi). He also spoke of the brilliance of Imam Bukhari in actually looking at individual hadith on a case-by-case basis, without using general principles in a half-baked way. An example of a half-baked approach to the science of hadith is seen in people performing tad’if (weakening of narrations) or tashih (authenticating of narrations) by merely looking at abbreviated comments on the status of various narrators in something like Ibn Hajar’s Tahdhib al-tahdhib, or applying general principles from an usul al-hadith text like Ibn Hajar’s Nuzhat al-nazar.

With regards to the Sunnah, he adopted the division articulated by Shah Waliullah in his Hujjat Allah al-baligha: 1) sunna al-huda (guidance): which are sanctioned to be religiously followed; and 2) sunna al-‘ada (not part of the mission, such as eating Arab food or dressing like an Arab). He stated that the following of sunna al-‘ada does not attract Divine reward for its performance by itself, but is only rewarded by the Divine if performed out of love for the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him), so one is really rewarded for love of the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) rather than the action itself.

Qiyas (Analogy)

Some of the most profound discussions related to this topic. He contrasted Prophetic usul which is the qiyas of a juz’i to juz’i, as opposed to the Greek qiyas of kulli to kulli; and how a methodology of qiyas based on early practice accepts one of tamthili rather than the Greek-inspired mutakallim approach that seeks to be shumuli. What all of these contrasting terms come down to is the idea that the early-Muslim approach makes qiyas of one small case to another small case, and the possibility of being mistaken here is limited; while the Greek-inspired mutakallim approach seeks to establish a general rule and then apply it to others (despite struggling to find specific examples of such generalities that they can apply, as highlighted by Ibn Taymiyya in his al-Radd ‘ala’l-mantiqiyyin). It was this Greek-inspired approach to usul that led, according to Shaykh Akram, Imam Juwayni in al-Burhan to accuse Imam Abu Hanifa of not knowing qiyas, because the qiyas which Abu Hanifa was famous for extensively and expertly utilising was not in accordance with the Greek method that Juwayni favoured. The early community derived rulings on the basis of ta’rif (specific-case based characterisation), and not the method of hadd (all-encompassing definition), tasawwur (full conception) and tasdiq (full judgement) that was taken from the Greeks.

Shaykh Akram highlighted the various aspects of traditional qiyas. Included was the fact that the essence of qiyas is tahqiq al-manat, or deriving from general rulings, and everyone agrees on it in principle (even the Zahiris), even if people might differ on application. What is more controversial (and here the Zahiris do disagree) is takhrij al-manat: taking a specific case and applying it specifically to another similar case because the ‘illa or why is present in the new case (far’) as exists in the original case (asl). Moreover, he highlighted important aspects of qiyas:

• Qiyas al-‘illa: the why of the ruling (very important, and stronger than the khabar al-wahid or solitary hadith);
• Qiyas al–shubha: when the same ‘illa is found in another case then the same original ruling is applied – in cases of tard, not ‘aks (when ‘illa is not found and the ruling cannot be applied);
• Qiyas al–dalala: to make effort to understand the hukm beyond the mere outer words.

He highlighted that qiyas al-‘illa is difficult to ascertain in worship (‘ibada), so it was more utilised in social laws (mu’amalat) by Abu Hanifa and Malik. Due to the danger of qiyas being corruptly applied, Shaykh Akram said that it is dangerous and that it should be applied cautiously by the fully qualified. Therefore, he quoted Jassas’ limitations of qiyas: that it should not remove the hukm of a sacred text of Quran or hadith (nass), nor oppose the ijma’ of the Companions. Moreover, he added that qiyas was not to be applied in hudud (Divinely-set penal codes) and kaffara.

Ijtihad and Taqlid

Despite his repeated calls for scholars to become expert scholars, and for expert scholars to throw off all-encompassing taqlid of Islamic schools of thought of all sorts, Shaykh Akram remains traditional Hanafi. Therefore, he naturally asserts that complete laypeople should make taqlid of a qualified scholar; but, in turn, those qualified scholars should strive to be experts and not rest on merely parroting what they have been taught or read in books, because it is upon such a blinded method that mistakes in fatwa occur, as the repetitive scholar does not understand what he possesses and what and how he is to wield that possession. As pointed out, fiqh and ijtihad were one thing in the early community; hence a mufti (one who gives a fatwa) was a mujtahid (capable of independent legal reasoning). Shaykh Akram was dismayed at how now, for example, one can be considered a mufti by just repeating a fatwa that one finds in an Urdu collection of fatwas.

In Shaykh Akram’s opinion, there are three types of people in relation to Islamic law: 1) the mujtahid; 2) general scholars who understand a scholarly argument and only follow with knowledge, and can depart from their mujtahid for another when satisfied by scholarly preference to do so; and 3) common people who only make taqlid of a qualified scholar. Nevertheless, he advised that scholars should provide their evidences to laypeople when passing fatwa, even if the latter do not understand, but they should at least make an effort to understand. Yet, he mentioned the classical principle that an ‘ammi (layperson) has no madhhab, and that they simply ask a qualified scholar whenever and wherever he or she is without being restricted to the issuer of the fatwa being from a particular school, or the school that the ‘ammi associates himself with; so, for him, there is no absolute duty to make one’s purification or ritual prayer according to one school, unless one is confined by circumstance to following one scholar who adheres fully to one school. In this regard, Shaykh Akram quoted Ibn ‘Abidin in his Hashiya where the latter quotes Ibn al-Humam saying that an ‘ammi can follow whichever fatwa from two differing muftis that his heart inclines to, but Ibn ‘Abidin said he can even follow the one that his heart does not incline to because the ‘ammi’s heart is not given consideration in such matters because his heart has no way of being more content with one fatwa or another. Then he quoted Hamid al-Din Farahi reiterating what others have said, namely, that every age must have mujtahids. Nevertheless, he pointed out that our ummatic problem is not that we lack mujtahids, but that we collectively lack God-consciousness (taqwa); and we should therefore make more effort in developing God-conscious people than in trying to cultivate mujtahids.

Shaykh Akram praised the Hanafi Jassas’ work on usul al-fiqh. Thus it was appropriate that he ended by presenting Jassas’ conditions of a mujtahid: 1) fully able to conduct independent research of the earliest and primary sources; 2) morally upright and trustworthy (‘adil); and 3) concerned in improving the situation of believers in society (a da’i).

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In conclusion, I hope that the many young scholars who attended, and those young scholars who will listen to the recorded material, will take these discussions further and enrich Islamic scholarship in the west. In this regard, the Safeenah Fellowship would welcome the opportunity to support and fund such research. The real beauty and blessing of Shaykh Akram is his tireless effort to raise the English-speaking scholarship so that it is empowered to rise to the many challenges of the age. God knows the secrets of people’s hearts, but I have sensed over the years the least amount of ego and desire for scholarly dictatorship in Shaykh Akram, masha Allah. Hence I have seen students and non-students challenge him and for him to respond in the best and most open of manners, without any sense of “Do you know who I am? How can you challenge me?” That is the secret to him being so loved, because even those who are welcomed to challenge him are not met by arrogance, masha Allah. Ultimately, while our leaders talk of the importance of indigenous scholarship being best suited to tackling our problems, it is hard to envisage such a profound scholarship emerging if it does not benefit and engage with scholars like Shaykh Akram in our midst. It is this willingness to challenge traditions on the basis of actual expertise, and not whim and half knowledge, which best sums up why Shaykh Akram is so crucial to this western enterprise, even if the conclusions and look of it end up being quite radically different to Shaykh Akram. In other words, if I can have the liberty of using giants who over-shadow Shaykh Akram, if a refutation of Imam Malik occurs by someone like Imam Shaybani or Imam Shafi’i, or even an Imam Nawawi or Imam Yahya ibn Yahya al-Laythi al-Maliki, then we are all enriched, because they are truly on the level to critique; but a refutation of Imam Malik by less proficient scholars of Islamic law is hardly going to be worth much except a modern Ph.D thesis, with passing and barely noticeable benefit to the world at large.

Part I

Note: Shaykh Abul Hasan Ali Nadawi’s opinions below do not necessary reflect the opinions of the author or VirtualMosque.com. To view Andrew Booso’s discussion and review of Shaykh Abdul Hasan’s positions, please be sure to visit the 4th part of the series: Part IV

Shaykh Abul Hasan Ali Nadwi saw “almost all the Islamic countries, today, are in the grip of an acute intellectual crisis. Or, shall we say, an unrelenting battle of ideas and ideals is taking place throughout the Muslim world. It can aptly be described as a clash between the Islamic and the Western concepts of life, values and traditions.” Moreover, he argued that “the intellectual make-up, education and upbringing and personal and political interests of the ruling classes in Muslim countries require that Western ideals and forms of life should be pushed forward and the Muslim masses made to walk in the foot-steps of the West, changing or brushing aside, as the need be, whatever religious considerations, social attitudes and national customs and law and tradition came in the way or impeded their advance.”

He saw the influence of “the West” over the Muslim world, and he was fearful of its consequences, so much so that he characterised it as “the biggest and most vital problem before the Islamic world at the present time.” The danger was exacerbated by the fact of “the internal weaknesses of the Muslim countries coupled with the unrivalled ascendency of the Western Civilization and the irrefutable material and political superiority of the Western Powers.” Furthermore, whereas “Western Civilization” was seen as possessing “extensiveness, vitality and [an] all-conquering quality,” the “Eastern countries”  were considered “hollow…both materially and spiritually” and suffering from “a crisis of faith and self-confidence.” In fact, “no nation [such as this] can aspire to maintain its individuality which lacks faith in itself and is plagued by inferiority complex and suffers from spiritual decay and degeneration.”

To prove his point about the fragility of the Muslim world in this regard, he used the example of the Gulf Arabs, often seen as the most conservative and thus protected people against such external influences:

“It did not take much time for Western Civilization to break through the fences the Arabs had erected around themselves and force its way triumphantly into the sacred land of Islam. The bazars and homes of Arabia were inundated with latest mechanical contraptions and the so-called luxury goods, the austerity, industriousness, chivalry and large-heartedness and all those other attributes of mind and character which had been the pride of the Arabs from the earliest days were erased out abruptly from their midst.

“The new contact between Arabia and the West was established through the routes of culture, civilization, politics and oil. It was done in a most hurried and haphazard manner…Beginning with outward forms, customs and usages, even the spiritual moorings of the Arabs have now begun to be threatened by the ever-increasing influence of Western Civilization.

“One by one, almost all the Muslim countries have come under the sway of modern Western Civilization. Their surrender has been brought about without much resistance for the simple reason that the Muslim ruling sections everywhere could not bring forth the mental robustness and perspicacity needed for the task…The educational system in the Islamic countries was out-dated and the blue-prints of its reconstruction had not been drawn with an eye on modern experience. Besides, the rejection of the teachings of Islam had created in these lands a state of affairs for which no justification could be found either in reason or in justice and which did not deserve to survive in any age, to speak nothing of the modern fast-changing one.”

In the context of criticising the educational system of the Muslims at this time, the Shaykh offered particular criticism at his own clerical class:

“As long as the Ulema (scholars) of the Islamic countries are devoid of the courage to discharge the religious obligation of speaking out the truth fearlessly in front of unjust and irresponsible rulers and allow selfish struggles for power and futile disputations and controversies over subsidiary and unimportant issues to eat up their time and energies and practical instances of religious training, piety, self-reliance and moral and spiritual strength and resoluteness remain extinct in their midst, and hostile movements and inimical ideologies are left free to invade the Muslim society, both openly and surreptitiously, and to work themselves out to the full – as long as this unnatural and woefully un-Islamic state of affairs is permitted to prevail in the Muslim countries, the World of Islam cannot hope release from its moral and political chaos and disorder. Revolutions are bound to take place in it, upheavals are sure to rock its foundations at regular intervals so long as the conditions there are so ugly and pathetic. The Muslim countries, today, are virtually sitting on the top of a volcano which is ready to erupt at any moment.

“The religious scepticism and waywardness of the modern-educated classes of the Muslim World is, to a certain extent, due also to the intellectual decadence and inertia that has taken hold of the Islamic educational and literary institutions and their representatives. On account of it, the Islamic sciences, in spite of their innate vitality and dynamism, have not been successful in giving a convincing proof of their richness and ability to offer guidance to the ever-evolving life, particularly during the modern days of ruthless competition and struggle. The syllabi of Islamic studies kept pace with life and went on developing with it in the earlier days when revolutionary upheavals were few and far between and almost of an identical nature. By and large, these convulsions were of a personal nature involving little more than a change of the ruler or the ruling dynasty. The formulators of the Islamic syllabi and other Muslim educationalists, till then, remained active and alert and through making suitable changes in the courses prescribed for study they furnished a steady proof of their social awareness and keenness of mind. When, however, with the dawn of the 18^th century a new era opened in the history of mankind and revolutions assumed a much wider social significance as clashes between different ideologies and programmes of life, the Islamic educational system, including the syllabi, grew cumbrous and became fossilised. In the prescribing of subjects, in the choice of books and in the methods of instruction, the line chalked down by Mulla Nizamuddin in India, or the eighteenth century Deans of Al-Azhar in the Middle East, was religiously adhered to by all as something sacrosanct and inviolable. The principle of Ijtihad was, for all practical purposes, forgotten. It was not employed any more to re-examine the structure of Islamic Jurisprudence and to revise and enlarge it in light of the advancements made in human knowledge and from the point of view of the multitudinous problems thrown up by the new social and economic experiences. Though hedged around by a number of highly important and delicate conditions, Ijtihad constituted a permanent duty of Islamic theologists, and since it embodied the principle of movement in Islam it was the most valuable instrument for keeping pace with time. As an eminent Arab scholar, Mustafa Ahmad el-Zarqa, has remarked, “Though the ulema did not regard it as legally prohibited to open the door of Ijtihad, the key by which it could be opened had been lost long ago.””

Nevertheless, he saw the “greatest vacuum” of the Muslim world to be “leadership.” Such that “not one man is to be found anywhere – earnest, zealous and deep-hearted – who can face the challenge of Western Civilization with faith, courage and imagination and chalk out a new course of thought and action which may be free from the intellectual and cultural servility as well as extremism, and who without getting involved aimlessly in the superficial manifestations of the Western way of life.”

Yet for all these points of criticism, he wrote with hope:

“In spite of all their faults and shortcomings, the vital religious feeling, the readiness to suffer in the cause of God and the spirit of earnestness, fidelity and love that have become extinct among the materialistic nations of the West can still be seen in the Islamic countries. The Muslim peoples, their appalling ignorance and backwardness notwithstanding, are the raw material from which the finest models of humanity can be made. Their greatest asset is their faith and their simplicity, earnestness and enthusiasm…But, thanks to the all-pervading curse of Westernization, the Muslim masses are being robbed of their spiritual vitality and are developing a moral cancer against which nothing can avail.”

Scriptural References to the Spiritual Imperative of Islam

There are numerous ayat (verses or signs) of the Holy Quran that indicate the importance of spiritual purification. God talks of the nafs (self) and says: “Whoever purifies it has succeeded; and failure is the lot of whoever corrupts it,” (Qur’an 91:9-10). Furthermore, Prophet Ibrahim (peace be upon him) is quoted in the Qur’an: “The Day [of Judgement] whereon neither wealth nor sons will avail, except him who comes to Allah with a sound heart,” (bi-qalbin salim) (Qur’an 26:88-9). Moreover, God mentions the role of the Messenger Muhammad ﷺ (peace be upon him): “A similar (favour have you already received) in that We have sent among you a Messenger of your own, rehearsing to you Our signs, and purifying you, and instructing you in the Book and the Wisdom (al-hikma), and in new knowledge that beforehand you did not know,” (Qur’an 2:151).  The following hadith (record) in Sahih Muslim is also of critical importance in this regard: “Allah shall not look at your bodies or your faces, but rather looks into your hearts.”

Defining Islamic Spirituality

When turning to Islamic spirituality, we can use two Arabic words that denote the focus of the activity: firstly, al-qalb, or the heart; and, secondly, al-nafs or the self or ego. ‘Abdal-Qadir ‘Isa says in Haqa’iq ‘an al-tasawwuf: “Purification of the heart (tanqiya al-qalb) and rectification of the self (tahdhib al-nafs) are from the most important of personally obligatory acts and of the imperative Divine commands, as proven by the Book, the Sunna (tradition), and statements of the scholars.” Suyuti says in al-Ashbah wa’l-naza’ir: “As for learning the science of the heart (‘ilm al-qalb) and its diseases, such as envy (hasad), conceitedness (‘ujb), ostentation (riya’) and the like, Ghazzali said its learning is personally obligatory (fard ‘ayn).”

A popular term for describing the science of Islamic spirituality is tasawwuf, whose accepted English translation is Sufism. Sufism, as even acknowledged by certain Sufis, has had its own historical battles against heterodox and outright deviant attempts to subvert it from Islamic orthodoxy. In this respect, ‘Abdal-Qadir ‘Isa notes that Sufism is no different to the sciences of hadith, Qur’anic exegesis (tafsir) and history, which all had “severe opponents and fierce enemies who attempted to demolish” Islam “by defacing its signposts and interpolating falsehoods and superstitions into its sciences.” Thus, in order to dispel any misconception, ‘Abdal-Qadir ‘Isa makes reference to “Islamic Sufism” (al-tasawwuf al-islami).

Furthermore, ‘Abdal-Fattah Abu Ghudda, in his notes to Muhasibi’s Risala al-mustarshidin, after quoting a lengthy passage from Shatibi defending the Sufis in general, distinguishes and endorses “true Sufism” (al-tasawwuf al-haqq) and “true Sufis” (al-Sufiyya al-haqiqiyyin”); hence the mistake, in his opinion, of those who disparage tasawwuf or Sufis “without restriction” (bi’l-itlaq).Yet, after Hasanayn Makhluf praises a host of famous Sufis in his panegyric (taqriz) of ‘Abdal-Fattah Abu Ghudda’s commentary of Risala al-mustarshidin, Abu Ghudda adds a note of caution: that these major, pious figures were not infalliable (ahl al-isma), therefore any of their errors will be pointed out as such, with all due respect (bi-adab), like any other non-Prophet, “and without tearing them up” (wa la tahdimuhum).

Yet many others have simply referred to tasawwuf as the discipline of Islamic spirituality without qualification, on the obvious proviso that the term is meant in the most orthodox terms, in the same way that one encourages one to study theology (‘aqidah), Sacred Law (fiqh) or the other sacred sciences (‘ulum al-din) without adding any qualifying adjective, because one understands the encouragement as calling towards orthodoxy in each instance without having to say so. Conversely, some people only use the term Sufism in a derogatory fashion, as can be seen in the usage of Rabi’ al-Madkhali in his booklet entitled The Reality of Sufism, or even Jamaal al-Din Zarabozo’s use of the term in his Purification of the Soul: Concept, Process and Means. In the latter work, Zarabozo admits that “not all Sufis are the same”, but “by definition and their own admission there must be something in Sufism that is distinct and separate from what all other scholars recognise to be the clear and manifest teachings of the Quran and Sunnah.”

With all that clarification, the following summations of what is Sufism are of great assistance. Ahmad Zarruq, in Qawa’id al-tasawwuf, mentions that tasawwuf has received two thousand definitions; but his thirteenth principle in the work summarises the science as “a knowledge seeking the betterment of the hearts (islah al-qulub) and turning them solely to Allah Most High and nothing else.” Ibn Khaldun, in al-Muqaddimah, placed tasawwuf amongst the “Sacred sciences” (al-‘ulum al-shar’iyya), and was considered “truth” (al-haqq) and “guidance” (al-hidaya) from the earliest times of the Community. Zafar ‘Uthmani, in I’la al-Sunan, stated that tasawwuf is “drawing nearer to Allah through knowledge and action”; hence it “gives life to both the outward and inward”: the “outward” is adorned by “good deeds” that are visible; and the “inner” is adorned “through the remembrance of Allah, leaving reliance on other than Him, adorning oneself with praiseworthy traits (akhlaq), and purifying oneself of the taint of base traits” (trans. F Rabbani).

Perhaps there is some merit in making a distinction between tasawwuf and general tazkiya (purification), because there is a distinctive Sufi method of thinking and training that is reflected in the development of the Sufi Orders (turuq, sing. tariqa) in later Islamic history, which contrasts with the sort of general tazkiya that retains a strict scriptural basis without any submission to the Shaykhs of the Sufi Orders. Alternatively, we can contrast tariqa-based tasawwuf and non-tariqa tasawwuf which is perhaps best given another name like tazkiya al-nafs. There is great overlap between the latter two, which is why it is understandable that non-tariqa scholars would speak of their own tasawwuf, because they have given the science such a general meaning when they are really just talking about the general spirituality of tazkiya (such as Abu Ghudda). Moreover, as one sees above in the very general definitions of Sufism offered by tariqa-Sufis like Zarruq and ‘Uthmani, one can understand why certain scholars still considered themselves Sufis despite not being part of an Order or delving into mysticism.

A reason for dividing general tasawwuf from tariqa-tasawwuf can be seen by simply studying a well-known Sufi manual like the Risala of Qushayri. While Qushayri uses both the Qur’an and hadith as a basis for his chapter headings on spiritual topics, the chapters contain highly mystical theories of late Sufism, such as fana’ (annihiliation), baqa’ (subsistence) and jam’ (union), etc. These theories are taken up as central points by late Sufis of the Orders, although a Sufi like Ahmad Sirhindi, despite endorsing the path that traverses such states, said that the Companions of the Prophet (may Allah bless him and give him peace) did not experience such states. Yet these mystical features are not a feature of general Sufi or tazkiya works like Muhasibi’s Risala and Abu Ghudda’s commentary; indeed, Abu Ghudda praises Muhasibi’s works for eschewing “philosophical Sufism” (al-tasawwuf al-falsafi) and merely being the “call to rectification of knowledge and action, vigilant observance of Allah Most High, purification of the soul from filth, and making it advance to the pleasure of Allah (praised and exalted be He).”

In practical terms, we can therefore distinguish between “Sufis” who speak in the language and the method of the Orders, and “Sufis” who advance a non-tariqa method of spiritual advancement (such as the early Sufis and then most prominently scholars like Nawawi, Ibn Taymiyya and Ibn Qayyim, and latterly Abdal-Fattah Abu Ghudda and Yusuf Qaradawi). Perhaps the latter group are best spoken of as non-Sufis, but it doesn’t really matter, as long as one understands the difference in methodology, even if the title remains the same or differs.

In terms of the various titles for Islamic spirituality – which is Islamic in so much as it always strives to remain true to the Scripture – in addition to what we have previously stated, Taqi ‘Uthmani adds tariqa (the path), suluk (travel) and ihsan (excellence) in his Spiritual Discourses.

In conclusion, one takes any practitioner of Islamic spirituality, regardless of the title that they use, and judges them wholly by the Scripture, and the good is taken, whilst the objectionable is discarded; and perfection is only the case of the Prophets (may the peace and blessings of God be upon them, and may He make us of the purified in this world and the next).

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

It is obvious to all, including perennialists, that perennial philosophy is completely at odds with orthodox Islam. Those perennialists who claim to be Muslims do so whilst claiming to believe that the esoteric, metaphysical realisation of the faith confirms the ‘transcending’ of the ‘dogmatism’ or ‘formal theology’ of Islam through ‘spiritual conversion from within’, i.e. by retaining the outer ‘form’ of Islamic practices (in whatever vague form they practically give to such an allegiance to the ‘law’). Perennialists uphold the ‘transcendent unity’ of ‘true religions’, but oppose ‘religious pluralists’ (who seek to do away with the distinctive ‘forms’ of each religion on a ‘horizontal’, i.e. worldly, level) and ‘modern syncretistic cults’ (who seek to form new, idiosyncratic religions considered false even by perennialists). ‘True religions’ are portrayed, by perennial philosophy, as being:

“graphically represented by points on the circumference of a circle, with each point being connected with the centre, that is, with God, by a radius. The points stand for the outward aspects of the religions [namely, the exoteric], whereas each radius is the esoteric path which the religion in question offers those who seek a direct way to God in this life.”

These ‘true religions’ of the present time, according to the perennialists, certainly include Islam, Christianity, Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism and even Native American faith. Perennialism is the explicit rejection of the ‘exclusivist idea that there is only one valid religion.’ Perennialism does not so much dismiss ‘the orthodox dogmas’ of the various religions, but it effectively dismisses its importance by seeing these ‘dogmas from the universal point of view’ as:

“a series of points of reference, conceptual orientations opening out to, or ‘intending’ realities that transcend the dogmas. What can be affirmed is thus the consummation of the orientations, practices, and aspirations set in motion by the beliefs in question: they are ‘true’ insofar as they can lead one to the ‘real’.”

In this statement above, we have a natural acknowledgement of the problem of conflicting dogmas between the various religions. Thus David Ray Griffin, in his debate with the perennialist Huston Smith in Primordial Truth and Postmodern Theology, sets out what any fair-minded person would conclude when looking at the fundamental differences in dogma between various religions:

“It does not seem plausible to me, in any case, to think of the various great religions as equally embodying revelations of the same divine reality. Judaism, Christianity, Islam and Zoroastrianism are oriented primarily to a personal deity, while much of Buddhism and much of Hinduism, especially Advaita Vedanta, are oriented toward an impersonal, infinite, absolute reality. To say that the devotees of both types of religion are really worshipping the “same God” does not seem illuminating. Not sharing Smith’s belief that the personal God is really derivative from, and hence less ultimate than, the impersonal absolute, I cannot agree that the God who inspired the ten commandments, liberation of people from sociopolitical captivity, and the Sermon on the Mount is really the same as the divine reality to which Shankara and Nagarjuna were oriented. To say that all religions are equally adequate for salvation seems equally un-illuminating. That statement implies that the salvation sought by, say, Moslems and Mahayana Buddhists is the same. But meditation on Emptiness and submission to Allah seem to produce strikingly different types of people. While the inclusive doctrine that “we are all on the same path” seems appealing in comparison with the exclusivist claim that “there is no salvation outside of our church,” it is not illuminating of the empirical realities.”

Now the theology of Islam is taken to be based upon the complete understanding of all the texts of the Qur’an and Prophetic sayings (ahadith, sing. hadith), as passed down from the Prophet’s Companions to every subsequent age en masse in every generation, without an interruption in that mass transmission at any generational point; hence the overwhelming number of Muslims have always held the same comprehension of Islam’s finality. To essentially dismiss the creed passed on by a mass of people in each generation from the Prophet ﷺ (may the peace and blessings of God be upon him) (tawatur), whereby the chance of being mistaken is nil, is to effectively accuse the whole collective of being mistaken, or involved in deception or to have spoken in complete allegory to the point that the overwhelming number of their listeners completely failed to make sense of the message – may God forgive us for pointing out these preposterous notions!

It is akin to the challenge that Ghazzali put in chapter five of Fada’ih al-Batiniyya when disputing the idiosyncratic interpretations of the Batinites. He said that if the Prophet ﷺ had to divulge these secrets, then why did he not? Especially when God says in the Qur’an (3:187): “You must make it clear to the people and not conceal it.“ Moreover, the Prophet ﷺ would not have been ignorant of such a truth; and he would never have allowed himself to have been misunderstood, knowing that people would take his words literally. By way of example, I can here add the following saying of the Prophet ﷺ reported in Sahih Muslim: “By Him in whose hand is the soul of Muhammad, any person of this Community, any Jew, or any Christian who hears of me and dies without believing in what I have been sent with will be an inhabitant of hell,” (trans. Keller).

One perennialist argument is that the ‘particularist, exclusivist’ (‘normative Islam’) and the ‘inclusivist, metaphysical’ (perennialist) understandings of the Qur’an are interpretations which are “one of an indefinite number of meanings that are all ‘intended’ by God to be derived from the words” of the Qur’an; and that “no one interpretation can therefore be put forward as right and true to the exclusion of all others.” This recourse to an interpretation as a way of maintaining an Islamic identity is interesting, especially in light of a non-perennialist’s argument that perennialism was not anti-Islamic, but merely “a rather novel interpretation,” “rooted…in the Qur’an” and “rarified [sic] metaphysical considerations that are better pointed out as heterodoxies that fall into a category of opinion and interpretation.” Furthermore, the non-perennialist asserted that perennialism be deemed a mere ‘innovation’ due to it simply being a ‘ta’wil’, or interpretation, and scholars are careful of declaring disbelief in such circumstances, despite the author accepting that the four schools of Islamic law consider it disbelief (kufr) to oppose the orthodox understanding on this specific question (as illustrated above). This well-intentioned attempt by a non-perennialist to retain perennialism as an Islamic heterodoxy, i.e. ‘Islamic’, in so much as it is not other than Islam, seems to result from a literalist understanding of ta’wil, as can be seen from numerous scholars of repute.

An interesting case study for beginning to test the question of whether denying Islam’s finality is disbelief or a mere heterodox interpretation is the Shifa’ of Qadi ‘Iyad, which has elaborate theological discussions contained therein, and which highlights where such an understanding of perennialism as a heterodox interpretation might be developed, yet seem to miss the nuance associated with the point.

The relevant material of the Shifa’ for our purposes comes in the third chapter: on the ruling of one who insults/reviles (sabb) God Most High, and His angels, Prophets, Books, and the people (al), wives and Companions of the Prophet [Muhammad] ﷺ. The second section (fasl) of the chapter opens with a discussion that, in part, covers the fact that the teaching (qawl) of Malik and his Companions differs (wa’khtalaf) on the issue of those who ascribe to God what is not befitting by way of interpretation (qualified by Mulla ‘Ali Qari in his commentary as ‘false’ (al-fasid) interpretation). Lengthy discussions are then presented over the course of the second section into the third section. What is clear from these discussions is that the central controversy here is with relation to the established sects that have emerged amongst the Muslims, such as the Khawarij and the Mu’tazilah. The fact that this discussion of the disagreement concerning the anathematization of those with ‘false interpretation’ is not related to the idea of denying Islam’s finality not being heresy is categorically clarified by Qadi ‘Iyad at the end of the third section (with “Q” designating the commentary by ‘Ali Qari):

“…it is disbelief for one who does not declare the disbelief of a Christian, a Jew and all of those separate to the religion of the Muslims, or hesitates in declaring their disbelief or has a doubt (al-shakk).

Qadi Abu Bakr [Q: Baqillani] said the unambiguous Sacred transmission [al-tawqif; Q: that is, by hearing from the God and His Messenger] and the Consensus (al-ijma’) agree about the disbelief (kufr) of them. Therefore whoever hesitates in that has disowned (kadhdhaba) the text (al-nass) [Q: of the Qur’an] and the unambiguous Sacred transmission [Q: from the Sunna that is correct], or doubts it; and disowning or doubting does not come to pass except from a disbeliever (kafir).”

Muhammad Shafi, in his commentary of the Qur’anic verses 41:40-46 in Ma’riful Qur’an, states that “scholars and jurisprudents have clarified” the meaning of not declaring a muta’awwil (a false interpreter) as a “kafir or Non-Muslim” as being “subject to the condition that the interpretation in matters relating to the self-evident elements (Daruriyyat-ud-din) should not be against their definite (qat’i) meanings.” He adds that ‘false interpretations’ of such definitively-established matters are not included under excusing such an interpreter, because such a person “is actually denying the teachings of the Holy Prophet ﷺ.” Shafi establishes a distinction in this issue between false interpretations that are disbelief and those that can be deemed unlawful innovation, through recourse to a statement from Shah ‘Abdal-‘Aziz Dehlawi: firstly, false interpretation of “definite, unambiguous texts of the Qur’an or of the mutawatir ahadith [mass-transmitted beyond any doubt in every generation] or of an absolute consensus of the ummah [Islamic nation]” are kufr; yet, secondly, “an interpretation against the texts that are, though clear and semi-certain, are not certain or definite in absolute terms,” then such is not kufr, but “fisq and misguidance.”

Furthermore, Ghazzali, in Faysal al-tafriqa, mentions that “disbelief” (kufr) is a designation of the Sacred Law (hukm shar’i), and it therefore has legal consequences. In essence, it is accusing the Prophet ﷺ of lying (takdhib) about something he brought; and faith (iman) is the belief in everything that he brought. The proof of the ruling of disbelief is established by explicit Sacred text (nass), as is the case with the establishment of the disbelief of the Jews and the Christians; or through analogical reasoning (qiyas) with what has been explicitly stipulated (‘ala mansus). Regarding false interpretation, Ghazzali states that kufr is not designated upon such an individual as long as his interpretation does not pertain to the foundational tenets of belief (usul al-‘aqa’id); yet one does charge with disbelief one who interprets against an important, foundational tenet of belief away from its externality (zahir) without a categorical proof (burhan qat’i).

In Fada’ih al-Batiniyya (section two of the eighth chapter), Ghazzali discusses the ‘unambiguous disbelief’ (kufr sarih) of challenging the descriptions of the Garden and the Fire which the Prophet ﷺ described with “clear utterances” (alfaz sarih); and such a refusal to accept is to accuse the Prophet ﷺ of lying (takdhib) and cannot be considered an interpretation (ta’wil). Therefore, again, we see that not every interpretation is free of being considered an accusation of lying against the Prophet ﷺ.

Ghazzali, in Faysal al-tafriqa, specifies that the foundations of faith (usul al-iman) are three: belief in God, in His Messenger ﷺ and the Last Day; he, furthermore, argues that anything else is from the ‘branches’ (furu’); and one can only charge disbelief in the face of a person’s rejection of a ‘branch’ when it is the rejection of one that has been established and narrated through mass-transmission that is beyond doubt, and impossible to have been connived through lying or conspiracy (bi’l-tawatur). Ghazzali then adds that the denial of one of the three foundations of faith or a mass-transmitted “branch” of faith would amount to an absolute accusation of lying (takdhib mahd) against the Messenger ﷺ.

Concerning the Prophetic narration, “If one of the Muslims accuses his companion of disbelief, [the accusation] returns to one of them,” (narrated in Sahih Muslim), Ghazzali argues, in Faysal al-tafriqa, that it relates to what the accuser knows of the accused. Hence if the accuser knows the accused to be a believer, then the accuser falls under the charge of disbelief; however, if the accusation of disbelief is based upon the supposition that one has accused the Messenger ﷺ of lying, but it is an [honest] error on the accuser’s part concerning the condition of the accused, then this would not be disbelief for the original accuser.

In the same way we have expounded on the profundity underlying the classical authorities on the issue of false interpretation of Scripture, one should likewise have a rounded – and not superficial, no matter how politically or personally expedient such superficiality might be – approach to understanding such statements as the one attributed to Abul-Hasan Ash’ari in Dhahabi’s Siyar a’lam al-nubala’: “We do not anathematise anyone from the community of believers; rather, these are semantic issues upon whose meanings we differ”; or the words of Ibn Taymiyya quoted in the same latter work: “We do not anathematise anyone who guards his wudu, as the Prophet said, ‘Only a believer guards his wudu.’” Good sense and good manners mean that we should refrain from placing a post-modern relativism and false representation upon these statements, which are both insulting to the utterers themselves as well as intellectually dishonest. It appears clear that these were uttered in relation to the sects amongst the Muslims, and were not intended to be applied against those who deny core Islamic beliefs.

Finality of Islam: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

The Science of the Hadith

Perhaps due in large part to the attacks of what has been termed ‘Orientalism’, one now sees intriguingly complex literature in English on the subject of hadith that is respectful of the orthodox tradition to a large extent; including the works of Muslims like Shaykh Mustafa Azami (the pioneer – may God bless him), Shaykh Yusuf Qaradawi, Iftikhar Zaman, Jonathan Brown, Scott Lucas, Gibril Haddad (alongside Musa Furber) and Bilal Phillips. Hadith is Shaykh Akram’s speciality and one finds him revelling in it as he quite effortlessly recounts principles, debates, variant narrations, chains of transmission and narrators.

Perhaps the singular most important lesson of his hadith teaching is his elaboration on the brilliance and profundity of the masters of this science. One could start with his introductory comments to Sahih Muslim, and how more legally-inclined explanations of the work have done harm to preserving the brilliance of the work; and it is such that even the standardized chaptering of the work has led to the message intended by the compiler being somewhat lost. For instance, when Muslim narrated a series of hadith on the same subject he would do so in a declining order of authenticity, with the actual proof and the strongest evidence being first; and then a declining level of strength -not as the proof- but as a support to the proof. Also, as the Shaykh had pointed out to me previously, scholars have conflated the whole issue, and then used the supporting narrations for primary proofs when this was not to be their function.

Moreover, there was a criticism of the habit of ranking hadith as sahih (rigorously authenticated) because the narration possesses the narrators of Bukhari or Muslim – a method favoured by Hakim in his Mustadrak. The reason being that such a rudimentary identification does not necessarily make a narration sahih, even according to Bukhari and Muslim themselves. The compilers of the two Sahihs had a far more profound method in selecting narrations. For instance, their acceptance of a narration as being highly sound could depend on from whom a reliable narrator was narrating from, or even the subject matter concerned. In the latter instance, it is discernible that Bukhari had different levels of acceptance depending on whether the narration related to law or virtues (fada’il). Moreover, Muslim would sometimes use weaker chains for certain narrations because they were shorter than the longer more rigorously-authenticated chains; therefore the hadith text would be clearly sahih, but the chain he chose to include with it might not be of the most exacting standard. Whilst the Shaykh extolled the genius and overall authenticity of the two Sahihs, he did not raise their every feature to the level of the Qur’an.

Furthermore, the Shaykh recommended students of hadith to read Mizzi’s Tahdhib al-Kamal, which is a general abridgement and occasional expansion of Abd al-Ghani Maqdisi’s work on the narrators of the Six Books. It was emphasised that Mizzi’s work is simply introductory, and has the virtue of being balanced. However it certainly does not mean that one then proceeds to try and rate hadith solely on the basis of its reading, or even less a reading of Ibn Hajar’s shortest abridgment of it (Taqrib al-Tahdhib). This discussion linked to Shaykh Akram’s distaste for the habit of modern Arabic printing houses to include modern ratings of hadith in their new prints, which seem to stem from a shallow reading and application of the science of the narrators. In addition, being endowed with the general principles of commendation and criticism (al-jarh wa’l-ta’dil) contained in Ibn Hajar’s Nukhbat al-Fikar will not allow one to go around making final judgements on the reliability of certain narrators, because such introductory principles are just a way of summarizing a path that is more complex. As we were taught in the beginning of the course, when we read a book of this science it teaches that we are ignorant; and the more we learn the more our ignorance is made clear. [We could really apply this humbling lesson to any science, especially law or even theology, when we set out to correct the perceived mistakes of previous masters.]

An interesting discussion developed following the fact that early hadith narrators allowed the narration by meaning, not word-for-word. The Shaykh mentioned how this naturally has an effect on how we understand the legal ruling, and the example was given of two narrations regarding how one makes up the cycles of the ritual prayer that one missed in joining the congregational prayer late. This led to the brief observation that this is a strengthening argument for the Hanafi and Maliki schools when they occasionally prefer the positions of the scholars of their region to solitary narrations from less famous Companions. Furthermore, sometimes their schools relied primarily upon the position of the scholars of the region, and the narrations they then quoted were just as support to their position, but not the basis of their positions. Therefore, it is a mistake to attack their position on the basis of such traditions because that is not why they hold the position. Shaykh Akram said that this does not mean that contemporary scholars cannot disagree at times with their founders – for he mentioned how independent legal reasoning (ijtihad) was a characteristic of the Companions’ successors (tabi’in) – but that one must respect that the rulings were arrived in a far more complex manner than many perceive; and one should not deem their positions ‘ignorant’, but should respect and understand their juristic method, even if one disagrees.

The Shaykh also cleared certain misconceptions about the use of weak ahadith in good actions. He taught how this has gone to an extreme in two manners. Firstly, the virtues in such weak narrations must already be established by sound narrations, and they should not establish an independent, new action that has no sound basis. Therefore it is permitted, he said, to use weak narrations about the virtues of the four sunnah cycles before dhuhr ; but salat al-awwabin, salat al-tawba and salat al-ishraq, and the night of 15 Sha’ban, have no sound basis in the first instance; and following them leads to an imbalance in the religion. Secondly, the weak narrations that can be used are those whose weakness is not due to having narrators who are liars or whose narrations are rejected (munkar). He said that this has not been observed in much of the fada’il literature, and Muslims should stick to works like Nawawi’s Riyad al-salihin for fada’il. In keeping with such caution, the Shaykh warned against taking hadith from Ghazzali’s Ihya’ or the ascetic practices found in the book that oppose the Prophetic Way.

Sciences of the Qur’an

The Shaykh made an impassioned call for Muslims to understand the Book of God through a concentrated effort to learn Arabic. Of course, in this pursuit, one cannot disregard learned commentary. He spoke of the virtues of Tabari’s commentary, and how Ibn Kathir’s work is a summary of it and more appropriate for the average person. As with all of his teachings, the Shaykh propagated a pristine and profound scholarly method.

In essence, the Shaykh’s booklet and presentation on the sciences of the Quran were standard. There were, however, interesting discussions regarding the work of Farahi and his successor Islahi (whose work is elaborated in Mustansir Mir’s Coherence in the Qur’an and seen here). Shaykh Akram spoke of how he was very fond of Farahi’s theory of the structure and coherence of the Qur’an in his early scholarly life, but he later came to see the theory as too dogmatic, and placing a limit on the Qur’an. His frustration with this limiting of the Qur’an is what made the commentary of Islahi tedious to him after Surat al-Baqarah. Again, the lesson for students in this issue is not to resort to ridicule, but to respectfully disagree with certain absolutist doctrines, and to also accept that many of the theories or opinions of ourselves, our teachers and even others are open to discussion. If such topics were discussed in the gentle manner exhibited by Shaykh Akram during his teaching, then we could hope for more love when disagreeing, and less sensitivity, boycott and weakening in the ties of brotherhood.

* * *

In the final analysis, the learning of these sciences is supposed to bring us closer to God, and certainly make us more humble and obedient. If it has not, or has made us more argumentative or wrongly divisive, then we really have not been breathing in Shaykh Akram’s sweet fragrance, which beautifies even critical discussion. This does not mean having to idealize scholarship and scholars – as mentioned by the Shaykh when recounting the reality of tadlis amongst the scholars of hadith, which Shaykh Akram rejects as being understood as  ‘mendacious’ (seen here). Also which Jonathan Brown has translated as ‘obfuscation in transmission’ in Hadith: Muhammad’s Legacy in the Medieval and Modern World – nor does it mean demeaning the scholars as ‘ignorant’ when we disagree, especially when such charges often only exemplify our own immaturity and general foulness. The improvement in character conjoined with mature and sober Islamic literacy should make one somewhat magnanimous in how they treat differences within the broad parameters of essential orthodoxy. This has always struck me as the noble method of Shaykh Abul Hasan Ali Nadwi – may God have mercy on his soul – and it is what I see in Shaykh Akram. In fact, it is not a modern sort of hippy trend whereby everything is good and right; but rather one where non-essential differences are nobly criticised – whether one agrees or disagrees with the content, one could not say that Abul Hasan’s refutation of Sayyid Mawdudi in Appreciation and Interpretation of Religion in the Modern Age was not dignified and worthy of emulation in tone and method. We are privileged to have a representative of this tradition in England, and we thank God, and we hope that it continues to flourish. Indeed, in this respect, we pray that the English translation of the Arabic biography of Abul Hasan Ali Nadwi by Shaykh Akram receives the full support in its final editing stages – as dedicatedly supported by Shaykh Akram himself, Sulayman Kazi and Jamil Qureshi – and will be another building block toward erecting a fine generation of religiously literate Muslims whose character and unity is a sight to simply sit back and behold in awe due to its splendour. To God we ask for success!