SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1The Changing Face of Islam in Egypt

By
Thomas Fullmer

MSE 6050
Dr. von Sivers
INTRODUCTION

On September 11, 2001, two separate planes flew into each of the two world trade towers in

New York City killing thousands. Though the Society of Muslim Brotherhood was not directly

responsible for this act of terrorism, those who have ties to the society were believed to have been

involved. The Salafi are considered to be the ones responsible for this act of terrorism. The Salafi,

which in Arabic means "predecessors" or "early generations", is a Sunni movement that takes the pious

ancestors (Salaf) of the patristic period of early Islam as exemplary models. Today their radical

descendants make up various terrorists organizations that seek to spread Islam by terror and the sword

as did the Umayyads before them. One must wonder, however, what the difference is between the

United States government spreading democracy by the sword and these militant Islamic organizations

spreading Islam by the sword. Can either be considered to be in the right?

According to the Pittsburgh, Post-Gazette, in 2002 a suicide truck bomb, occurred in Grozny,

Chechnya, killing 46. It was believed that the Society of Muslim Brotherhood was behind this attack

(2002). Terrorism has become the name of the game across the world for militant Muslims. But such

was not always the case. This type of extreme terrorism is a recent development of the twentieth and

twenty-first centuries. Between nineteenth and twentieth centuries there was a shift in focus in Egypt

from Sufism to a reformist and from there a more militant Islam, as an Islamization took place. To

listen to the media one is led to believe that militant Islam is the way Islam has always been. In fact,

the terrorists seem to want to portray Islam in this much more dangerous, destructive light. It breeds

terror in its victims, which of late has been the Western world. But such was not always the case.

Islam has not always been bent on the destruction of the Western world as we know it, with the West’s

trappings of materialism and secularism. Even today there is another Islam behind the face of
terrorism. Islam is a chameleon that terrorists have given a make over, a face lift, to make it appear as

something frightening to the common man. To a large extent they have succeeded bringing on extreme

reactions and attempts at reprisals, embroiling nations like the United States of America in armed

conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan in an attempt to weed out the terrorists. But how did all this happen?

What was the state of Islam two hundred years ago in Egypt? Why has it taken on the face of the

aggressor, the face of terror, the face of militant Islam? This paper will attempt to answer these

questions.

TURUQ IN NINETEENTH CENTURY

Fred De Jong gives an extensive review of the history and structure of the turuq and turuq-

linked institutions in Egypt. The reason I will summarize part of that history is to demonstrate that

Egyptian Islam had a very different appearance before its face lift in the twentieth century though it

continued to function in the twentieth century. Also it will show how the government of Egypt,

Muhammad Ali and his descendants, sought to maintain power and control over Islam, and limit the

activities of the Sufis. Much of the power wielded over the turuq was in the charismatic figure of Ali

al-Bakri, but in the end he was merely an instrument in the hands of the Egyptian government to

subjugate the Sufi Orders to that government’s will and control. Though a brilliant, capable

administrator, he could very well be seen as the ultimate governmental stooge, the pasha’s henchman

over the turuq to keep the orders in line. Had he wielded his charismatic leadership and power in a

different way, militant Islam as we now know it may never have held sway and taken the day. .

In 1798 Napoleon invaded Egypt and began what most consider being the modern history of the

Middle East. In 1801 he left Egypt, and over the next four years there was a period of turmoil as

different factions vied for control of Egypt, which resulted in Muhammad Ali coming to power in
1805. In 1812, on the death of Muhammad Abu al-Su’ad and the bequest of a number of ulama and

heads of turuq organizations, Muhammad Ali issued the firman giving Muhammad al-Bakri authority

over the turuq in Egypt (de Jong 1978: 20). Apparently this was done as a political move to

undermine the position of Muhammad Abu ‘l-Anwar al-Sadat, the naqib al-ashraf at the time (1978:

21). But it was also done so Muhammad Ali could manipulate and reduce the ulama’s power. It also

undermined the position of the ulama, with the subsequent land and tax reforms making them

financially dependent on the ruler. De Jong writes:

Many heads of the turuq, of the zawaya, takaya and the attendants of the shrines claimed

sharifian origin. By giving al-Bakri exclusive jurisdiction over them, the area within

which al-Sadat could legally exercise his authority was considerably curtailed.

Moreover, the authority given to al-Bakri implied the possibility of his exercising

indirect control over the administration of the awqaf al-ashraf, where nizarat of awqaf with

ashraf among the beneficiaries was to be exercised by incumbents whose appointment was

made dependent upon al-Bakri’s approval. (1978: 21)

De Jong writes further:

By the appointment of Muhammad al-Bakri to the niqabat al-ashraf – which office was to be

held by his descendants for almost a century – more than the nominal authority of niqaba was

added to his power position since these offices were mutually reinforcing. The heads of the

turuq frequently claimed sharifian descent. So by this new arrangement al-Bakri held authority

over them as naqib as well as the authority stipulated in the firman. The proceeds of the awqaf

al-ashraf to be distributed by him in his function of naqib, could be used as a convenient device

for having his authority dependent on recognition of the niqaba, with its agents in the
 provinces, could be used to exercise his authority outside Cairo. This appointment did not,

however, solve the problem of transforming legal into legitimate authority, and only provided a

limited organization through which he could exercise the authority given to him by firman.

(1978: 31-32)

It is interesting to note that in a footnote on the matter, de Jong says that the office of

nuqaba was basically as tax farmers for the provinces under al-Bakri’s jurisdiction.

In addition, the appointment of al-Barkri created an office that would prove to counterbalance

that of the shaykh al-Azhar. (1978: 23). Because of this de Jong says that al-Azhar became a

stronghold of what he calls “orthodoxy,” which opposed those who de Jong writes propagated

“mystical conception of Islam” (1978: 23). De Jong is wrong in saying this, because at the time the

mystical conception was the orthodoxy of its day, and what de Jong calls orthodoxy this author calls

neo-orthodoxy. Al-Bakri also was given authority over shrines as well, which was significant because

the turuq received compensation from people visiting the shrines.

Later, in 1816, Muhammad al-Bakri was appointed to the office of naqib al-ashraf, with

Muhammad al-Dawakhili being removed from the office. This was a caveat that al-Bakri received

from Muhammad Ali, for supporting his policies. An 1847 agreement with al-Azhar demarcated areas

of power that widened the gap between ilm and tasawwuf begun by the aforementioned firman. Ilm

here refers to knowledge of God, while tasawwuf is Islamic science. This had the effect of enhancing

the power of al-Bakri over turuq and turuq-linked organizations (1978: 34). The significance of all this

is that it put the officially sanctioned turuq and turuq-linked organizations firmly under the auspices of

a central authority, where they could more easily be controlled and manipulated for the purposes of the

state. The actualization of this central authority was to come under Muhammad al-Bakri’s son Ali al-
Bakri. Ali was a charismatic man who developed the concept of the right of qadam. Ali al-Bakri came

to office in 1855. Not every turuq organization recognized him as the head of turuq and turuq-linked

organizations. But he used the right of qadam, holding that right basically in hostage, to curtail the

activities of those Sufi organizations which did not support him. The right of qadam was two fold: 1.

the right to proselytize legally, and 2. the right to appear in the public arena. These rights were given to

those turuq organizations that could prove they were the first in an area, and as long as they were

officially and legally recognized by al-Bakri. Those who would not play the game and come under the

authority of al-Bakri had to function in obscurity, completely illegally, restricting their ability to grow

and maintain themselves.

One way in which al-Bakri maintained control was in dealing with government agencies that

made payments out of the proceeds from awqaf khayiryya to the turuq. The awqaf were lands that

were confiscated by Muhammad Ali after the 1815 financial reforms, and these payments were given

periodically to the former owners of these lands. It is interesting to note that, Al-Bakri acted as

mediator for the turuq in this regard, and that they could not get their payments any more except

through him. Those who did not receive awqaf money or other stipends had basically three choices:

accept al-Bakri’s authority over them

place themselves under the authority of those who had already accepted the authority of

al-Bakri.

defy and remain independent (1978: 43-44).

To do the last of these significantly curtailed the activities of these turuq organizations. For one thing

they could not participate in mawalid, festival-linked processions, they were limited to activities in

private or at their own mosques, and they could not proselytize. Basically, al-Bakri had them firmly
under their thumb financially, and kept them there while he was in office.

Several other ways in which al-Bakri exercised authority over the turuq was in the appointment

of a khalifa (The deputy of the head of a Sufi Order) where there had previously not been one.

Permission had to be obtained from al-Bakri to do this. The desired ijaza, needed to initiate and guide

novices, was also under the control of al-Bakri, Privileges were attached to these ijazat and made

them very desirable to the point that an illegal trade existed in them. Ijazat were certificates of

authorization given to an individual by a spiritual guide which gave permission to do certain things as

stated above. The appointment of na’ibs was also in the hands of al-Bakri. It was the responsibility of

the na’ib to communicate between the khulafa and tariqa and to protect the interest of the khulafa. Al-

Bakri also appointed wukala as his personal representatives to the tariqa. This office was an extension

of al-Bakri’s formidable power, and their legitimacy was a function of his own in the areas where he

welded power (1978: 45-48). Needless to say, al-Bakri held considerable power over the turuq and

turuq-linked institutions, but the legitimization of this power came through the right of qadam.

Disputes over qadam and legal jurisdiction of the turuq were handled by al-Bakri as well, thus

enhancing that power and authority.

In addition to the turuq, al-Bakri had power over the shrines, which enhanced his power over

the turuq. The funds from the shrines were divided as follows: one-third went to the Shaykh, one-third

went to the shrine, and one-third went to those connected to the shrine (de Jong 1978: 86-87). Just

whether al-Bakri received his cut was not mentioned, though it is the opinion of this author that he did.

He had his hands into everything, why not the till as well. Though how much was his cut is not

mentioned by de Jong. He also organized and had various festivals (mawlid), such as mawlid al-nabi,

revolving around his authority. It was not a one way street however. The relationship between al-
Bakri and the turuq was a symbiotic one. De Jong writes: “To them the way in which their turuq

functioned had become largely dependent upon the existence of al-Bakri’s administration, while the

way in which this administration functioned had become dependent upon the mode of existence of the

turuq” (1978: 92). In addition, al-Bakri’s support of the khedive Isma’il against European intervention

gave him as de Jong puts it: “a halo of a national leader which added a genuine charismatic mode to

his authority” (de Jong 1978: 93).

Reform was in the wind that blew across the sands of the Egyptian desert as certain practices

were viewed as needing suppression, as al-Bakri’s rule came to a close. These reforms included

restrictions if not out right prohibitions on the dawsa and various forms of self-mutilation during

hadarat, as envisioned by the khedive. Dawsa was a particularly interesting ceremony in which the

Shaykh of the Sa’di tariqa rode on a white horse over the backs of up to three hundred members of the

tariqa at the festival of the Prophet and other festivals of the saints of Cairo. At one mawlid in

Alexandria, Egypt, the newspaper sensationalized those who pierced themselves with skewers, which

embarrassed the Egyptian authorities and brought on reprisals by al-Bakri’s administration in the form

of forced public repentance and oaths of desistence taken (1978: 94-95). It was all dust in the Egyptian

winds however, because the khedive wanted and pushed for more in the way of reform that the

powerful Ali al-Bakri resisted.

Later under al-Bakri’s son and heir, Abd al Baqi, many of the activities of the turuq

organizations were restricted or outright outlawed as bid’a (a practice that has no precedent in the time

of the prophet). Early in 1881, Ali al-Bakri died in October 1880, Abd al Baqi made a written decree

prohibiting dawsa, where as before it was merely a verbal warning from his father to the Sufi Orders.

This was followed by codification of various practices that the khedive conceived as being bida. Some
of the practices that were outlined in this codification include, the first of its type for the al-Bakris and

Sufi Orders, prohibitions against use of swords, eating live coals, eating serpents, eating glass, and

beating one-self with iron balls. He also outlawed singing during hadra and restricted dhikr to the

praise of God (de Jong 1978: 98). There were numerous other restrictions, as outlined in de Jong (see

footnote number 1 below) that the khedive and government of Egypt found embarrassing, that Abd al

Baqi as their chief henchman implemented or at least tried to. In codifying the laws he lacked wisdom

and perhaps acted rashly. He wasn’t the experienced politician his father was, and had not built up a

reputation or consolidated his power before he acted. The backlash against his codification of new

laws was quiet, though effective. The new laws and codifications of old laws that had merely been

verbally given were in large part ignored by the Sufi Orders.

Where ever he turned he stepped on the toes of the turuq shayks. He attempted to limit the

autonomy and power of the heads of the turuq by:

1. Making it so that complaints about tariqa could only be dealt with by al-Bakri and his

wukala.

2. Taking the Right of suspension out of the hands of the tariqa and putting it in the hands of al-

Bakri.

3. Denying right of the heads of the turuq to punish khulafa by taking away the tariqa’s idda

(udda).

Because of these actions, the heads of the turuq dissociated themselves from the turuq

administration of al-Bakri and so solved disputes previously handled by turuq administration on their

own without al-Bakri, namely they ignored him (de Jong 1978: 100-101). So we see that this new al-

Bakri let slip the tremendous power his father had wielded in his hands, out of his, by changing the
symbiotic relationship that had once held sway into a single tracked dictatorship, that was ineffective

because it was in large part ignored. Although, his brother who succeeded him, Muhammad Tawfiq,

was able to restore power to some degree, he never regained the power that was held and wielded so

successfully by Ali al-Bakri, and the symbiotic relationship that had made the al-Bakris so popular and

successful was also gone. The Internal Regulations established by Muhammad Tawfiq in 1905,

together with the regulations of 1903, acted as a “constitution” for the turuq until 1976. De Jong

describes aptly what effect those regulations had:

By these Regulations the principle of right of qadam, which had become entirely

redundant by the end of the nineteenth century, was formally abolished. In conjunction

with the regulations of 1903, the Internal Regulations guaranteed the office of shayh

mashayikh al-turuq al-sifiyya an unprecedented high degree of specificity and autonomy

of the authority allotted to it, while they gave a self-sufficiency and distinctiveness to the

turuq administration in its totality, unmatched at any previous stage. (1978: 187-188).

The whole reason for this was because the government of Egypt wanted to limit the activities of

the turuq and keep them from embarrassing the country of Egypt in the eyes of the Western colonial

powers. A look at some of the beliefs and practices of the turuq will help to clarify why this was the

case. This will also give a perspective of what Islam was like before the twentieth century to further

understand the kind of face lift that Egyptian Islam was given by those of the Society of Muslim

Brotherhood established by Hasan al-Banna in 1928.

SUFISM – THE FACE OF ISLAM

Of the Sufi, Sheik Muzaffer said: “They hear no word but the words of God. They never cease
from the remembrance of God. Everywhere they behold God’s Beauty. Their aim is God alone, and

their desire is God’s good pleasure.” (as quoted in Fadiman and Frager 1997: 95). This in a nut shell

explains what motivates Sufism, the desire for oneness with God. But how is that oneness achieved?

That Sufism is an aesthetic, esoteric version of Islam is well known. Before the nineteenth and

twentieth centuries, the focus of this paper, Islam appeared to be in political and cultural decline in

most areas due to the encroachment of the West as colonial powers, but the Sufis carried on a struggle

for religious renewal, opposing them were fundamentalist groups like the Whahhabis, who were

“virulent anti-Sufi” (Sirriyeh 1999: 1). Sirriyeh quotes Marshall Hodgson as writing: “Though the

eighteenth century was not without its interesting and creative figures, it was probably the least notable

of all in achievement of high-cultural excellence; the relative barrenness was practically universal in

Muslim lands” (1999: 1). The problem as seen by the Whahhabis in the eighteenth century was that

Sufis appeared to be caught up in saint worship at the tombs of saints, and were seen at these tombs

more often than at mosques. This apparent saint worship was denounced by Muhammad b. Abd al-

Wahhab, the founder of the Whahhabis, as idolatry (1999: 3). Three quotes from Elizabeth Sirriyeh’s

Sufis and Anti-Sufis bear this out. She quotes A.J. Arberry as writing:

Every village or group of villages acquired its local saint, to be supported and revered during

his lifetime, worshipped and capitalized after his death. Few indeed were the voices that dared

protest against this ruinous order of things, for politician and theologian alike feared to oppose

the true masters, and found it easier and more profitable to share in the swindle. (1999: 2)

What swindle is Arbberry talking about here? The swindle that had dominated Islam for

six hundred years, which is Sufism. If anything it was the Wahhabis who were swindling Islam by

cutting the heart out of it as if it were so much garbage. Futher, Arberry, in the aforementioned book,
quotes al-Badr al-Hijazi:

Would that we had not lived to see every demented madman held up by his fellows as a “Pole”.

Their ulema take refuge in him; indeed they have even adopted him as a Lord, instead of the

lord of the Throne; for they have forgotten God, saying, “So-and-so provides deliverance from

suffering for all mankind. When he dies, they make him the object of pilgrimage and hasten to

his shrine, Arabs and foreigners alike: Some kiss his grave, and some the threshold of his door,

and the dust. (1999: 2).

But nothing is different then it had been for six hundred years. Arberry clearly has fallen prey to what

many Europeans had fallen prey to, anti-Sufism. Abd al-Whhab saw his age as being “more decadent

than the pre-Islamic age of ignorance of true religion”. He writes:

The idolaters of our own time are worse in their idolatry than the ancients because the

ancients were worshiping God in times of affliction and associating others with Him in

times of prosperity, but the idolaters of our own time are always guilty of associating others

with God whether in prosperity or affliction. (1999: 3)

And Sufis were seen by the fundamentalist as being more emotionally moved by Sufi poetry than the

Qu’ran. Needless to say, fundamentalist Muslims, always a small minority before the twentieth

century, have always disliked the excesses of Sufism, especially the excessive veneration of the

Prophet Muhammad and the revering of saints as shown above. But the interesting thing to note is that

this had been going on for six centuries before Wahhabisim reared its judgmental head. Up until this

time, Sufism was orthodoxy, for six hundred years it was, and it was only beginning in the eighteenth

century, continuing in the nineteenth, and culminating in the establishment of the Society of Muslim

Brotherhood in 1928 that this changed, and what was not orthodoxy before became orthodoxy and
Sufism was considered something else. Further review of this subject might be helpful in establishing

what is next.

Gibb tells us that Sufism was originally considered to be based in the Qu’ran and the moral

teachings of Islam (Berger 1970: 64). And Nicholson has referred to Ibn Khadun’s dictum: “Sufism

was ‘born in Islam’” (1970: 64). Many scholars believe that Sufism was practiced by the first Muslims

and has always been a part of Islam. As Berger writes: “Sufism is an unorthodox yet characteristically

Islamic response to a need left unfilled by orthodoxy” (1970: 65). In Berger’s opinion this is part of the

reason that orthodoxy has come to abhor it so. But to say that it has been considered unorthodox is

problematic. If one considers Wahhabism as orthodoxy, then Berger has a point. The problem with

this is that Sufism was in play long before the Wahhabis appeared on the scene. Sufism has been

around long before the militant Muslims as well. It is the contention of this paper that Sufism is what

Islamic orthodoxy has been for centuries, and that only recently have the militant claimants to

orthodoxy tried to make it appear that this has not been the case. One thing is for certain, Sufism has

worked to bring converts to Islam and has even defended Islam against Europe and Christianity. But

its unorthodox nature, as claimed by what I will term the neo-orthodox and others erroneously call

orthodox, and a pliant spirit in proselytization reveal a tolerance for what some refer to as strange ideas

and conduct that the neo-orthodox like the Wahhabism dislike. At least this is what the militant

orthodox Muslims would have everyone believe. It is the contention of this paper that Sufism is

orthodoxy, the first orthodoxy, and that this has only changed in the perspective of some, though not

all, Muslims of late.

The concept of saint worship and the sheik is an important one in Sufism, but one that as was

stated above has brought down the condemnation of fundamentalist squarely on the head of the Sufi
Orders. But as Rumi writes: “It is necessary to have a guide for the spiritual journey. Choose a

master, for without one this journey is full of trials, fears, and dangers. With no escort, you would be

lost on the road you have already taken. Do not travel alone on the path” (Fadiman and Frager 1997:

41). This warning is taken seriously by Sufis, but has also been the source of their rejection by groups

like the Wahhabis.

There was sharp difference between official Islam and popular Islam. Official, legally

sanctioned Islam was used by the government to justify the status quo, while popular, unofficial and

illegal Islam sought to challenge regimes already in power (Vatikiotis 1983: 67). Vatikiotis writes:

All this is not intended to suggest that religion dominates the state. On the contrary, the latter

has, at least in the last 150 years controlled and manipulated the former. What it does suggest is

that, despite the state’s ever greater secularizing acts and policies, religion is still a necessary

component for the legitimacy because it is still the most efficacious force in the life and social

discourse of the vast majority of the Egyptian people. Its extreme manifestations in times of

economic and political crisis in the from of militant religio-political movements is a reflection

of the persistent ambivalence of Muslims in general toward a modernity developed by infidels,

and a continuation of the old illusions regarding the sanctity of power (1983: 70).

There were reformers among the Sufis on the scene in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries in

reaction to fundamentalist reformers, however who tried to correct their coreligionists who they believe

had strayed from the true path of Sufism. Shah Wali Allah (d. 1762) was disturbed by the popular

regard for wonder working Sufis, emphasis on poetry to the neglect of the Qu’ran and Sunna, and what

is called an obsession with visiting tombs of saints for pursuit of “spiritual progress” (Sirriyeh 1999:

6-7). He wrote that “Sufism without knowledge of Qu’ran and Sunna, and scholars who are not
interred in mysticism are brigands and robbers of their own (religion) (1999: 7). He wanted Sufis to

have essentials in Islamic learning and for scholars to appreciate the value of “direct personal

experience of the mystic…” (1999: 7). Another great Sufi reformer of this era was Ahmad b. Idris (d.

1837) of Morocco. But what effect either of these two reformers had on Egyptian Sufism is beyond the

scholarship of this paper. It is no doubt that they had some effect, but the important thing to take from

this is that the Sufi reformers were almost as hard at times on the direction that popular, mainstream

Sufism had taken, as were the Wahhabis. But they did this in order to bring Sufism into line with what

the Sufi reformers believed Sufism was all about, while the Wahhabis just wanted to rid Islam of

Sufism. The Wahhabis wanted to cut the heart and soul out of Islam. Perhaps the criticism of Sufism

by the Wahhabis led the Sufi reformers to be reactionary and attempt to change Sufism from within at a

time when the Wahhabis wanted to rid Islam of Sufism. Perhaps the reformers were actually trying to

make Sufism more palatable to the Wwhhabis. The significance of the Wahhabi rejection was that it

provided a precedent for those disenchanted with Sufism altogether to choose a different course (1999:

24). What had been Islam for centuries was suddenly under attack by other Muslims.

Some have erroneously called Sufism during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries as “neo-

Sufism” (see Sirriyeh 1999: 11), but in actuality it was the same Sufism that had existed since the

1200’s. Some of its focus shifted because of the changing political environment in the nineteenth

century, but its practices had not. Sirriyeh enumerates three new foci: 1. Struggle for socio-moral

reforms of society linked to political activism and establishing the ideal Islamic state; 2. Sufi path and

strict adherence to Shari’a; 3. growth of tariqas as organized mass movements – political order was

thus imposed, but at a heavy cost in terms of freedom to act. (1999: 11-12).

PERSPECTIVES OF SUFI DETRACTORS

 In the twentieth century Sufism had become an extension of the State of Egypt, controlled by

the government. Before Muhammad Ali came on the scene Sufism had influence over and perhaps

even a measure of control over the government. But it had fallen on hard times, as the government of

Egypt sought to take away and change so many of the traditions that Sufism held dear. At least this

was the case for officially sanctioned Sufism. Unofficial Sufism was another matter all together.

Unofficial Sufism still carried on their centuries long traditions, when they could get away with it, but

were largely out of sight of the public, government, and Western Colonialist. But with the firman of

1812, Muhammad Ali had not only gained ascendancy over official Sufism, in which the government

could now dictate what was appropriate to Sufism and what was not. But the government was also

successful in dividing or bifurcating Sufism into two groups thus weakening its power and solidarity.

Though Ali al-Bakri proved to be an excellent manager of the Turuq and Turuq-linked organizations, a

consummate bureaucrat, he had done Sufism no favors by making it essentially a ward of the state.

Englishman, L. P. Elwell-Sutton, wrote: “It could… be argued that Sufism no longer has a role to play.

In both East and West it has travelled far from the spiritual sources out of which it grew, and has for the

most part degenerated into a narrow, desiccated formalism” (1995: 2). But with three to five million

Sufis on record in Egypt, it would appear that this is not the case. This figure of course does not

include those unofficial Sufis (1995: 14). Compare this with the following demographic data in the

table below

YEAR POPULATION IN MILLIONS

1900 10186.0

1910 11740.0

1920 13387.0
1930 14767.0

1940 16887.0

1950 20330.0

1960 25922.0

1970 62694.0

1980 72726.0

Notice that the population increased dramatically between 1960 and 1970, by almost two-hundred fifty

percent. There is nothing to indicate what happened to the Sufi population over this time except that it

probably decreased as a percent of the total population. Also, it is believed that most of this population

was urban, as cities swelled with people seeking a better life. So why has the once glorious Sufism

fallen on disrepair? Why was it ever popular in the first place?

Michael Gilsenan in his book Saint and Sufi in Modern Egypt gives a clue as to why Sufism

was so successful at one time:

The guardians, transmitters, and to a degree, creators of that tradition, were the learned men of

religion, the ulema, Not a hierarchy of clergy mediating grace or access to the Divine, this elite

of canon lawyers and religious scholars were par excellence the systematizers of Islam, the

formulations of legal judgments and criteria for judgment, the legitimators of the holders of

power (to whom a tradition of submission early developed), the preservers of the word of the

Revelation and its exegetes, the teachers of religion and opponents of innovation. They were

drawn in an open-ended way, and by a training which any Muslim might undertake, from all

social strata, pursued every kind of occupation, and attained every degree of wealth. Though
 rarely capable of acting as an organized group, their many-sided competence, their permeation

of all ranks of society, their vital functions in the establishment and maintenance of the legal

and normative order, gave them enormous authority and social importance. This essentially

conservative role, however, carried with it the dangers of dogmatic rigidity, slavish attention in

the letter, and an inflexibility potentially fatal to the capacity of Islam to respond to the

changing historical and existential demands of its adherents. The capacity constantly to recreate

and renew the meaning of Islam in the world degenerated into a mere repetition of its forms.

The response to this ossification on a spiritual, intellectual, emotional, and social level was

Sufism and the Sufi Orders, mystical religion, and the organization of the popular

Brotherhoods. (Gilsenan 1973: 10)

That the ulema and Sufi Sheiks were complementary to each other is displayed very well here.

Both were essential to the success, spread, and ultimate survival of Islam. The Sufis presented a

supplemental path to the ulema , a path that focused on spiritual progress of those who followed the

Sunni path. It was especially successful in its proselytizing efforts on the boundaries, the fringe areas

of Islam, and brought in numerous people who might never had joined Islam. It dealt with “the inner

truth behind the outward symbol” and the “the inward condition of a man’s heart rather than his

outward acts...” (1973: 11) It offered something more than dogma or the Shari’a, it offered a

revitalization of the individual as well as Islam itself, and kept Islam from becoming just one more of

the rigid religions among the many that already existed. Sufism was alive, vital, and real to those who

sought more than merely the following of the law of Shari’a. It offered a colorful way of life, where

joy was a part of one’s existence, not just dour, sour, mundane repetitively following of the law without

any purpose behind it except that it existed. The reason that Sufism ended falling into disrepair and
insignificance in the twentieth century was in part because official Sufism at least had become an

appendage of the government, and that the government tried to dictate how Sufism would function.

Taming Sufism is like trying to lasso the wind, it can’t be done, and if it is attempted something

is lost. It can no longer be the wind without the freedom to blow across the Egyptian desert, but instead

turns into a puff of air. This wind when challenged by the government of Egypt in the nineteenth

century tried to change the government to a more amicable Islamic government, but failed. Gilsenan

gives a unique perspective of why this happened. This perspective goes a long the lines with what we

have discussed above, but it gives a twist to it, a slightly different flavor that will help explain what

happened to Sufism in the twentieth century.

That Sufism challenged the basis of authority of the government when it was challenged by that

government in the nineteenth century through the turuq and turuq-linked organizations of that century

is a historical fact. Al-Azhar, though a seat bed of Sufism, with many sheiks and Sufis alike, became a

bastion of neo-orthodox and competed with the turuq and turuq-linked organizations for resources and

attention from the Central government in the nineteenth century. As Gilsenan writes:

The religion of the masses was thus absorbed into the form of the tariqa within which the

unpredictability of holiness and the unstable manifestations of saintliness could be largely

contained and rendered more tractable. Instead of new forms emerging, religious energy was

harnessed and turned inward, away from true reformulation or rearticulation. The ‘ulema’ thus

dominated the relationship more than they knew, by the mere fact that the turuq were absorbed

as the second term in this symbiotic system. The Sufi Orders thus became a profoundly

conservative social and ideological force. (Gilsenan 1973: 189).

Gilsenan goes onto say that they wielded enormous influence, were the most significant
medium of instruction in Islamic religious education, and were mediators between the people and the

state (1973: 189-190). Education which was once in the hands of the Sufi orders was now secularized

taking one more aspect of culture out of the hands of Sufis and putting it in the hands of the state.

Because of this turuqs ceased to be formal agencies of instruction. As writes Gilsenan: “The often

violent processes of urbanization, the vast increase in the population of the main cities, made the old

organization by quarter largely obsolete” (1973: 194). Secular interests replaced religious as

government increasingly took control of areas once dominated by Sufis. And in fact, through Ali al-

Bakri, the government dominated the Sufis as well, dictating what was appropriate and what was not.

Also from Gilsenan:

The Brotherhoods came to constitute in their turn only a sub-universe of meaning, within

the religious system. For with the multiplication of new perspectives, and the

demographic, economic, and political transformations, discrepancies between the world

view the turuq embodied, and the world as it was coming to be grew ever wider. Their

vision increasingly reflected less and less of the everyday life to which they had been so

intimately connected. The society was no longer able, in Alasdair Macintyre’s phrase, ‘to give

expression to its common life in religious forms’, for the foundations of that common life were

gone (1973: 196).

The effect this had on Muslim reformers was that these reformers viewed the Sufi orders as no longer

being significant, as being un-Islamic, even to the point of being “degrading to the faith” (1973: 201).

In the twentieth century other orders that grew out of these Sufi Orders came into being. The first of

these was established by Hasan al-Banna.

HASAN AL-BANNA AND THE PERSPECTIVE OF THE REFORMERS

 In the eyes of the Muslim reformers like Hasan al-Banna, Sufism had become innocuous as a

religious entity with its power taken out of its hands by the Egyptian government, so that the

government told the religious what was appropriate. A look at al-Banna and his reforms will be most

helpful at this point. Who was Hasan al-Banna? What did he stand for? And how did his organization

come to be in such a powerful position in the decade of the 1970’s in Egypt? The answers to these

questions will shed important light on the changing face of Islam over the past hundred years. Of al-

Banna’s politics Aly and Wenner write:

Although Banna was intellectually a combination of Muhammad Abduh reformism, Rashid

Rida conservatism, and al-Afghani’s political activism, he conceived his mission as a more

comprehensive vision of Islam. One of his followers summarized his view of al-Afghani as

“merely a cry of warning against problems,” of Abduh as “merely a teacher and philosopher,”

and of Rashid Rida as “merely a historian and a recorder.” The Muslim Brotherhood, on the

contrary, “means jihad, struggle and work – it is not merely a philosophical message.” (Aly and

Wenner 1982: 339)

The previous Sufi and reform leaders had never gone far enough by al-Banna’s standards,

and so in 1928 al-Banna established the Society of Muslim Brotherhood. But why did this happen in

1928? A look at what occurred leading up to WWI in Egypt will be helpful. Of this period Vatikiotis

in his The History of Modern Egypt writes:

Among the great accomplishments of British guardians over Egypt in the period 1882-1914 was

the creation of an efficient Egyptian administration, relatively free of major corruption and with

it the initiation of a sound fiscal policy for the country. These achievements brought economic

prosperity to the country. The production of cotton double within twenty years, while the fellah
 felt more secure, and the landed bourgeoisie grew more prosperous. So that at the outbreak of

war in August 1914 the country enjoyed a stable and efficient government, a solvent economy,

a greatly increased production of high-quality cotton, and a Legislative Assembly. Even though

this Assembly possessed limited powers, it served as a forum for the discussion of public policy

matters by the new elite of educated Egyptians. It became a platform for those who wished to

stir up nationalist feeling among the Egyptians. Moreover, a reasonably free Press in which

both Egyptians and émigrés played a large role contributed to the wider spread of ideas of

political independence. (1991: 249)

Things were relatively stable in Egypt compared to the rest of the world during WWI. But

trouble was stirring in the wings as the Wafd party became ever more popular with the aim of seeking:

“the complete independence of Egypt by all the legal and peaceful means, that is by negotiating with

Britain” (1991: 263). The Wafd party was set up to be an Egyptian delegation to represent the people

of Egypt and their desire for this “complete independence.” Only the British would not allow them to

present their case in London. The Wafd did eventually make it to the Peace Conference in Paris of

1919, but only after what Egyptian’s refer to as the First Rebellion of 1919. This was basically an

attempt by the Wafd to rally public support through demonstrations for its petition to be allowed to

send a delegation to Britain. It was eventually suppressed partly because the Allies of WWI

recognized the British Protectorate in Egypt, and the Wafd delegation to the Peace Conference ended in

failure (1991: 268-269). It didn’t end there. Vatikiotis writes:

The British Declaration of 28 February 1922 created by its provisions an independent sovereign

Egyptian state. But the political transactions from 1920 to 1922 which led the British

government to act unilaterally were inauspicious. Moreover, its conditions – the Four Reserved
 Points – inaugurated a period of uninterrupted crisis in domestic Egyptian politics, which in part

prevented parliamentary government and its institutions from taking root in the political life of

the country. To say this is not to attribute all the blame to Britain. In 1922, Britain considered

certain interests in Egypt as absolutely vital to the security of her empire, and insisted upon a

special relationship with Egypt which, inevitably, diluted Egyptian independence and created

conflict with a succession of Egyptian governments. Moreover, Lord Allenby, the British High

Commissioner in Egypt, had assured the government in London that granting Egypt

independence would inaugurate an era of goodwill which would permit both governments to

negotiate their differences amicably. But there were also deeper reasons and more complex

realities peculiar to the Egyptian socio-political environment which militated against the

success of the experiment in representative government. (1991: 273)

This “Declaration” sounded hopeful on one hand, but led to confusion on another. The Wafd

opposed the provisions of the declaration, as it did not give them what they wanted, a clean break with

Britain. The British wanted to negotiate with a duly elected Parliament, but: “the nationalists had

assumed from 1919 until 1922 that no Egyptian government was capable, or dared, to negotiate a

guarantee of British interests before the Protectorate was effectively abolished (1991L 274). Distrust

was rampant on both sides of the equation. Eventually the elections for the first Chamber occurred on

12 January 1924, and the Wafd were able to set up the first Wafdist government in a land slide victory

that saw them taking ninety percent of the seats. This wasn’t the end of Egypt’s struggle however, as

writes P. Hopwood in Encyclopaedia of Islam::

From 1924 to 1936 and until the beginning of the Second World War, Egyptian politics

consisted of a three-way contest for power and authority between the King, the British and the
 politicians, the latter often being members of the Wafd. It was the leading political party of the

period, and won every election which was not rigged against them. It was felt by many

Egyptians that the Wafd was the real representative of the people. (2009)

It was during this time that the Brotherhood was established by Hasan al-Banna in 1928. The door was

opened for the popular growth of the Brotherhood in large part by a coup by Sidqi in 1930, the third

time since the constitution was established in 1923 that a coup had toppled a government of Egypt. Of

this Vatikiotis writes:

This was a crucial period in the political evolution of Egypt, for its effects were permanently

damaging to the hoped-for development in parliamentary government. More important, this

period laid the foundation of more violent politics in the country, alienated political leaders

from the monarchy, and the public from all normal, orderly government. It made it easier for

extremist, fanatic political groups to emerge and be organized, as well as to attract new

elements of the population to their ranks. It permitted the Muslim Brethren, for instance, to

strengthen their organization and experience a period of great development. (1991: 288)

The Muslim Brotherhood, who only had a toe hold in Egyptian politics up since 1928, firmly had its

foot in the door, and its influence would only deepen as time went on. A more in depth look at the

Brotherhood will be helpful at this point.

It is important to recall that al-Banna had beginnings in a Sufi order himself. This leads one to

wonder if he didn’t leave the Sufi Order precisely because he saw how ineffectual it was in dealing

with the social problems and political realities of his day. The British were slow in letting go of Egypt,

as they were the rest of their colonies, and it cost Egypt dearly. Islamic movements at this time were

very popular. But why was that the case? Gomaa claims that this was because of the “strength of
religious commitment in a context of high illiteracy, poverty, and limited political awareness” (Gomaa.

1983: 144). People flocked to the movement because “the choice of the Brotherhood was not simply

one between Palace autocracy and parliamentary democracy; rather, it was one between totalitarian

theocracy and secular nationalism” (Gomaa 1983: 144). Hasan al-Banna described the Brotherhood in

these terms: “…a salafite movement, an orthodox way, a Sufi reality, a political body, an athletic

group, a scientific and cultural society, an economic company and a social idea” (Gilsenan 1973: 203).

It was to become the most significant religious organization of the mid twentieth century as will be

discussed below.

The Muslim Brotherhood’s mission, in al-Banna’s own words, was to “lead Mankind towards

truth, call humanity to the path of goodness and illuminate the entire world with the light of Islam”

(Aly and Wenner 1982: 340). The Brotherhood wanted to transform society politically, economically,

and socially, and the basis of that change they believed was in Islam and the strict observance of the

Shari’a. This would prove to be a formidable mission, which was based on six principles: scientific,

pragmatic, economic, socio-philanthropic, patriotic and nationalistic, humanitarian; with the

ascendancy of Islam as its goal and guiding light. (For a discussion of these principles please see Aly

and Wenner p 340). Of these principles and the emphasis on Islam al-Banna said:

We (the Society of Muslim Brotherhood) believe the rules and teachings of Islam to be

comprehensive, to include the people’s affairs in the world and the hereafter. Those who

believe that these teachings deal only with the spiritual side of life are mistaken. Islam is an

ideology and a worship, a home and a nationality, a religion and a state, a spirit and work, and a

book and sword (as quoted in Aly and Wenner 1982: 340).

The way to achieve this was to spread the call of jihad, which had two aspects: “power and
argument” (1982: 340). Al-Banna writes:

Allah Almighty commanded the Muslims to do jihad for his sake….Only if the people refuse to

listen to his call and resort to defiance, oppression and revolt, then as a last resort, recourse

should be had to the word to disseminate the call. (1982: 341).

What does all this mean then? It means that al-Banna would probably have stopped at nothing

to accomplish his task of doing Allah’s will to spread the light of Islam, including violence. But

violence as with all things had its place, after the means at his disposal were exhausted. He never got

the chance of accomplishing the desires of his heart. In many ways this was what Sufism itself wanted

to accomplish, but in a much different more militant way.

Al-Banna believed in action to accomplish his goals and he came up with a plan involving three

phases and nine action steps to achieve his goals. As a result of the Assassination of the Prime Minister

in 1949, he was murdered only a few weeks later before his goals had been achieved and the movement

had gotten out of phase one. Still, as a martyr for his cause, he would impact the politics of Islam for

decades and is still doing so today.

It is a historical fact that al-Banna called for a gradualist approach involving three steps. The

first step was peaceful propagation, followed by mobilization of select units, and militant holy war or

jihad only after the units were firmly in place. As writes Gomaa:

Peaceful propagation aimed at gaining the widest possible support represented for him the first

stage to be followed by mobilization of select group. The third phase was militant,

characterized by “un-relenting struggle amounting to a holy way (jihad), and persistent efforts

to achieve the goal notwithstanding all hardships and suffering.” The aim would be to establish

a state in which Islam becomes both a belief and worship, a homeland and a nationality, a
 religion and a state, a holy book and a sword. Each stage, he stressed, had its proper timing and

means. He considered it futile, for instance, to move to the third phase before being fully aware

that belief had struck deep roots in society (Gomaa 1983: 152-153).

There is evidence to show that al-Banna opposed terrorists acts before the first or second phases

were complete, as discussed above. About the use of violence al-Banna said: “he believes that such a

defiance [of authority] is not proper yet in terms of timing. One must choose the appropriate

conditions or calculate fully before resorting to it” (1983: 153). It was in the third phase that such

activity was supposed to take place, and in 1938 al-Banna did not believe the time had yet come. In

this regard, as in others, al-Banna resembled Hudaybi more than Qutb. But who is to say that had he

lived al-Banna would not have achieve the third phase by the 1960’s. He did stress the need to

combine belief with action (as Qutb espoused), but he tempered it with the idea that belief had to be

firmly established first. It wasn’t established when the Qutb was alive. That Qutb died in prison in the

1960’s, and that Hudaybi lived on to counsel with and assist Sadat as the supreme leader of the Muslim

Brotherhood in the 1970’s is fitting given the dictum: “He who lives by the sword dies by the sword.”

The ultimate effect of the two leaders and their books, however, was profound for the shaping of the

Brotherhood, by Hudaybi, and other subsequent militant organizations, by Qtub, and deserves attention

and further research which goes beyond the prevue of this paper.

The survival of the Muslim Brotherhood to our current era shows how durable if not successful

the Brotherhood has been. There are two possible reasons for its success. The first is that the Muslim

Brotherhood was the first movement, other than Sufism, that was thoroughly Islamic. The anti-

Western revolts of 1882 (the Urabi insurrection) and 1919, were secular in nature, while the

establishment of the Brotherhood was very Islamic. Because it was Islamic in nature, as was Sufism, it
competed successfully for the hearts and minds of Egyptians with Sufism. The second is that the

Muslim Brotherhood was activist in nature. In the view of the Muslim Brotherhood: al-Afghani was

the “caller”, al-Banna was the “builder”, and the Society of Muslim Brotherhood was “the practical

extension of the previous movements” (Baer 1983: 46). The reason that the Muslim Brotherhood was

so successful was that it opposed popular religion, Sufism which was popular in rural areas. The

Brotherhood accused Sufi Shaykehs of corrupting the countryside, and was more suited to the growing

urban middle class precisely because it focused on Shari’a.

Perhaps Gabriel Baer put it best when he wrote:

The Muslim Brotherhood may be defined, therefore, as a well organized mass movement of the

Egyptian urban middle class explicitly resisting Western civilization as antagonistic to Islam

and actively pursuing the struggle of Muslim people against non-Muslim imperialism and its

supporters in all countries that the Brethren were able to reach (Baer 1983: 48).

In many regards it did replace Sufism as the quintessential force in Egyptian Islam of the twentieth

century.

BEYOND HASAN AL-BANNA

Al-Banna’s organization ballooned from himself in 1928 to over five hundred branches all over

Egypt by the time he was murdered by the state in retaliation for the Brotherhoods murder of a

government official. Its popularity was in its activist role of attempting to improve living conditions at

a time in Egypt’s history that experienced “severe economic disturbance, inflation, and food shortage”

(1973: 203). Gilsenan writes further of the Muslim Brotherhood:

All this it (humanitarian activities) it did in the name of Islam, but of an Islam in which the stress was

very different from the passive retreatism of the Orders. The Brotherhood directed its followers to the
working out of God’s purpose in the world. It offered a vision of the future cast in religious terms. But

though these terms derived their meaning and affective and symbolic on notations form the past, they

were made to encompass the material world of the present. They were to guide positive social action

on Islamic principles interpreted as a key to the reordering of a society dislocated by change.

Individuals shad status according to their efforts in the holy struggle in the evolving pattern of social

differentiation….They recreated the world in its old image and reincorporated it into the divine system

in a way which the turuq could no longer do (1973: 204-205). The next development of Islam occurred

as a response to Nasser’s secularization beginning in 1952. A look at this period of development

follows.

Nasserism brought the impact of socialism to Egypt. Nasser not only attempted to nationalize private

companies in Egypt, he also sought to nationalize Islam, or at least his version of it. He was a secular

leader who found as his chief opposition to be the Muslim Brotherhood who had wanted a government

that was Islamic oriented. It was this opposition that led to Nasser jailing their leaders. In the end,

though he jailed leaders of the Brotherhood and persecuted them, he found only limited success in the

world of religion as the Muslim Brotherhood and even more militant Islamic organizations fought him

whenever possible. In 1965 Nasser made the following bold statement: “The Muslim religion is a

religion that is 100 percent socialist” (Aly and Wenner 1982: 343). It is interesting to note, that as had

Muhammad Ali before him, Nasser tried to subjugate Islam to himself, especially the Muslim

Brotherhood, but with a very different result. He attempted to nationalize Islam as he had nationalized

private companies. But unlike Muhammad Ali who had the al-Bakri’s to ameliorate things and control

the Sufis, who were a fairly peaceful lot at the time, Nasser had no one who could cajole the Muslim

Brotherhood into behaving. In fact, the two leaders he could have co-opted in this enterprise he had put
in jail from where each wrote a famous book that led to a bifurcation in the Muslim Brotherhood.

Where Nasserism fell short was in military defeats in Yemen in the 1960’s and against Israel in 1967.

The Muslim Brotherhood claimed that this was because of Nasser’s secularization and nationalization

of Egypt, which they were diametrically opposed to, and called for a resurgence of true Islam. This, in

their eyes, was not Sufism, but the more radical, militant brand they espoused.

One can not talk about the Muslim Brotherhood without at least discussing the bifurcation that

took place in the 1960’s. Basically, in the 1960’s there were two leaders of the Brotherhood that came

out with two very different books, espousing two very different courses by the Muslim Brotherhood.

One became a more moderate form of the Muslim Brotherhood, the other developed into a decidedly

different, more militant ideology. This refers to the more militant shaykh Sayyid Qutb vs. the pacifist

Hudaybai both who came out with their books at approximately the same time, and both who

influenced the Muslim Brotherhood in diametrically opposed ways.

The first discussed in this paper will be Sayyid Qutb’s book Ma’alim fi al-Tariq demonstrated

how a militant Muslim in Egypt, Qutb, had become disenchanted with the Society of Muslim

Brotherhood, as it failed to achieve al-Banna’s goals quickly enough and was becoming more

moderate. In it Qutb called for a new start by a new group of dedicated “pioneers” (Gomaa 1983: 149).

It contained two major themes: 1. The concept that Western Civilization had failed the world, and that

only Islam could rescue the world from demise; 2. A plan of action to bring this rescue mission about.

He writes that the only true society based on Islam: “was that which applied Islam as a belief and

worship, as a law and system, as a moral code and behavior” (1983: 149). He talked about the concept

of leading a “jahiliyya life”, which was a life that was not in accord with Islam. His idea was that

Muslims who lived a “jahiliyya life” were not true Muslims, and were just as bad for Islam, if not
worse, than the non-Muslim infidels. He called for a nucleus group to oppose jahiliyya (1983: 150).

Hudaybi’s book was much more moderate and was entitled: “Preachers and not Judges.” He

called for an Islamic government to be established, but said that the “Islamic government stipulated in

the Quran and the Sunna is one that rules according to Islamic principles regardless of who is at its

head. As such it merits allegiance and respect from Muslims” (Gomaa 1983: 151). How this

government was to be established was not said, but his voice was a moderating one for the Muslim

Brotherhood, and in the way within this organization, his was the one that won out.

It wasn’t until after Nasser’s death when to consolidate power and in reaction to the Leftist, that

Sadat partnered up with the Muslim Brotherhood released their members from jail, especially their

leader and Supreme Guide Hasan al-Hudayai (the less militant of the aforementioned authors of the

two books), and attempted the development of a more Islamic oriented regime to counter the Socialistic

left that opposed Sadat and the Muslim Brotherhood. So Sadat tried to play the two most powerful

factions in Egyptian politics of the 1970’s against each other. Though Sadat, a supporter of Nasser,

made many reforms that backed the Muslim Brotherhood, he didn’t go far enough for their tastes and

did not implement the Shari’a as the sole basis of legislation as demanded by the Brotherhood. He also

invited the Brotherhood to help draft articles and sections of the new Constitution that might affect

them. But as stated above, Sadat did not go far enough, and it came to cost him dearly (Aly and

Wenner 1982). How dearly has making the same mistakes over and over again cost the West is beyond

the prevue of this paper, but suffice it to say that the Salafi movements are alive and well today. In

fact, they have proliferated, but it would take volumes to describe their activities since Sadat.

IS THERE HOPE?

The face of Islam in Egypt has changed dramatically over the past two hundred years and it has
been in large part because of the interference of the West in Egyptian politics. In a very real sense we

have created a monster in trying to tame the lamb that was Sufism. Now the West doesn’t have sword

swallowers, fire eaters, or body piercers to mock and disregard; but suicide bombers, jet plane crashers,

and a host of terrorists to deal with. It is a situation of the West’s own making. The West could not

and did not predict the violent nature of the backlash that resulted from their actions. The West acted in

terms of short term interest and lack of foresight. Islam chose its response, which was of course a

violent backlash against what it saw as a decadent, self-centered, hypocritical Western Society. The

West wanted and expected a different, possibly more compliant response, but it got violence instead.

Violence is not a solution to the problems of the Middle East, but it is a reality as long as the

West continues to interfere it is inevitable. Education is a solution, but is a bit idealistic precisely

because it is not likely to be widespread any time soon. It is a matter of education of sorts, but not the

kind one might think of at first. Though educating to raise the poor to the middle class is important, it

won’t bring immediate change. It will in the long run strengthen and stabilize society after it is

changed. The kind of education I speak of is behavioral modification. The West must teach Muslims

to respond differently, by responding differently ourselves. It is impossible to behave in such a way

that you have not learned. It is learned behavior that is discussed here. A violent response will only

perpetuate the violence, as bloodshed escalates. Question is: Who will take the first step? In all

likelihood it won’t be the militant Muslims, their creed is reactionary. It must come from somewhere

else. It is my contention that it must come from us. Alternately, it may come from the Sufis

themselves. This is because Sufism has internalized peaceful coexistence over hundreds of years, as

true oneness with God can lead to nothing else. But it can’t come from a watered down version of

Sufism that is an instrument of the state. It must come from an independent Sufism that is alive and
vibrant and dynamic. I close with a quote from Rumi, who writes:

By love, bitter things are made sweet and copper turns to gold. By love, the sediment

becomes clear and torment is removed. By love, the dead are made to live. By love the

sovereign is made a slave.

This love is the fruit of knowledge. When did folly sit on a throne like this? The faith

of love is separated from all religion. For lovers the faith and the religion is God. O spirit, in

striving and seeking become like running water. O reason, at all times be ready to give up

mortality for the sake of immortality.

Remember God always, that self may be forgotten, so that your self may be effaced in

the One to Whom you pray, without care for who is praying, or the prayer (as quoted in

Essential Sufism; Fadiman and Frager 1997: 117).

Perhaps Rumi and Sufism already have the means to change the face of Islam in Egypt as well as the

entire Middle East. Perhaps here in Sufism is found our greatest hope.
PROBLEMS OF SUFISM TODAY – WILL IT MAKE A COME BACK?

Valerie Hoffman in her book Sufism, Mystics, and Saints in Modern Egypt says that the

problem with Sufism in the modern world is that it is so authoritarian, in that it requires the individual

to submit to a Sufi master. This goes against the grain of Western Society, which is so individualistic

in its thought and behavior. Also western society is materialistic and economically oriented which goes

against the grain of Sufism in that Sufism does not care about improving the lot of the poor through

material gains, but rather only cares about God and oneness with God. She speaks of Seyyed Hossein

Nasr, and of him writes:

Seyyed Hossein Nasr, the Iranian Sufi intellectual presently at George Washington University,
 described the stark contrast between the two ideologies by the image of a wheel: the Sufi lives

at the center, in touch with his spiritual core, the essential human nature that is the true image of

God; “modern man” lives at the rim, occupied with the ephemeral, the changing, the accidental,

where “the theomorphic nature of man is either mutilated or openly negated.” It is for this

reason, he argues, that adherents of Western philosophies feel fragmented and alienated; it is for

this reason that psychotherapy, generated as it is from modern behaviorism, can never achieve

the total integration of the human personality provided by Sufi training. While Egyptian Sufis

rarely speak in terms of finding one’s center, they would undoubtedly agree with Nasr’s sense

of wholeness derives from moving in the divine will, which is what the very word Islam means.

All true morality and humanity can derive only from such a connection.

(Hoffman 1995: 359)

Western Society would not easily admit that Sufism has something that it lacks but desperately

needs. What is that something? By the best estimation of this author, it is the soul that secularism

lacks that is so rich in Sufism. It is being in touch with the inner self, the spiritual self, that secularism

denies the very existence of. Of course, the fundamentalist reject the decadence of the West, at least

decadence from their perspective. And the fundamentalist’s problem with Sufism is the way it

ineffectually has dealt with the spreading of the decadence of the West. As writes Hoffman:

“fundamentalist condemn them (Sufis) as irrelevant, heretical, and socially regressive.” (1995: 362).

But this does not keep certain fundamentalist groups from working with Sufis in nonviolent endeavors.

Their approach is very different however. Hoffman writes:

The solutions advanced by the two groups for the moral rectification of society, however, are

diametrically opposed. Fundamentalists rely on legalistic rigidity and external restraint to

 impose thinking. Sufis, however, rely on methods f inner purification that manifests itself in

reformed behavior. Though Sufis share with the fundamentalists a desire to base Egyptian

society on Islam, their emphasis on sincerity of action and worship precludes much enthusiasm

for its forcible implementation. Fundamentalists wish to reform society by outside imposition.

The Sufis want to reform it by inner transformation. These are not of course mutually

incompatible goals. (1995: 361)

That is the paradox of Islam, that the two diametrically opposed groups are both needed for Islam to be

truly successful in its inner jihad. Balance is called for, with the inner life tempering the aggression of

the outer. Sufism is still a force among the uneducated, especially rural people of Egypt, while

Salafism appeals to the educated. The logical thing for the latter to do is to educate the former and

unite the two forces under one banner of Islam. If this happens it is the opinion of this author that

Islam will become an even more powerful force to reckon with throughout the world than it is today,

and could rival the West in its ascendancy.

Aly, Abd al-Monein Said and Manfred W. Wenner; “Modern Islamic Reform Movements: The
Muslim Brotherhood in Contemporary Egypt”; Middle East Journal, Vol. 36, No. 3, (Summer 1982),
pp. 336-361.

Baer, Gabriel; “Islamic Political Activity in Modern Egyptian History: A Comparative Analysis”;
Islam, Nationalism, and Radicalism in Egypt and the Sudan; ed. Warburg and Kupferschmidt; Praeger,
1983.

Berger, Monroe; Islam in Egypt Today: Social and Political Aspects of Popular Religion; Cambridge at
the University Press, 1970.

De Jong, Fred; “Aspects of the Political Involvement of Sufi Orders in Twentieth Century Egypt (1907
– 1970) – An Exploratory Stock Taking”; Islam, Nationalism, and Radicalism in Egypt and the Sudan;
ed. Gabriel R. Warburg and Uri M. Kupfershmidt; Praeger Publishers, NY, 1983; pp 183-206.

De Jong, Fred; “The Sufi Orders in Egypt During the Urabi Insurrection and British Occupation (1882
– 1919): Some Societal Factors Generating Aloofness, Support, and Opposition”; Journal of the
American Research Center in Egypt, Vol 21 (1984), pp 131j-139.

De Jong, Fred; Turuq and Turuq-linked Institutions in Nineteenth Century England; E. J. Brill, 1978.

Esposito, John L.; The Oxford Dictionary of Islam, Oxford University Press, 2003.

Fadiman, James and Frager, Robert; Essential Sufism; Harper San Francisco, 1997.

Fahim, Hussein M.; “Change in Religion in a Resettled Nubian Community, Upper Egypt”;
International Journal of Middle East Studies, Vol. 4, No. 2 (Apr., 1973), pp 163-177.

Gilsenan, Michael: Saint and Sufi in Modern Egypt: and Essay in the Sociology of Religion; Oxford at
the Clarendon Press, 1973.

Gomaa, Ahmed M.; “Islamic Fundamentalism in Egypt During the 1930’s and 1970’s: Comparative
Notes”; Islam, Nationalism, and Radicalism in Egypt and the Sudan; ed. Warburg and Kupferschmidt;
Praeger, 1983

Hoffman, Valerie J.; Sufism, Mystics, and Saints in Modern Egypt; University of South Carolina Press;
1995.

Hopwood, D. "Wafd (a., lit. “delegation”)." Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition. Edited by: P.
Bearman , Th. Bianquis , C.E. Bosworth , E. van Donzel and W.P. Heinrichs. Brill, 2009. Brill Online.
University Of Utah. 08 May 2009 <http://www.brillonline.nl/subscriber/entry?entry=islam_SIM-7812>

Sirriyeh, Elizabeth; Sufis and Anti-Sufis; Curzon; 1999.

Vatikiotis, P. J.; “Religion and State”; Islam, Nationalism, and Radicalism in Egypt and the Sudan; ed.
Warburg and Kupferschmidt; Praeger, 1983

Vatikiotis, P. J.; The History of Modern Egypt; The John Hopkins University Press, Baltimore, 1991.

Voll, John Obert; “Conservative and Traditional Brotherhoods”; Annals of The American Academy of
Political and Social

For a discussion of these changes see de Jong Turuq and Turuq-linked Institutions in Nineteenth Century Egypt, 1978: 97-
101.
See website: http://www.populstat.info/Africa/egyptc.htm.

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