Ahl-i-Hadis, Deobandis, and Barelvis: Responses to Colonialism in Early Modern Subcontinental Islam

The Ahl-i-Hadiths, Deobandis, and Barelvis engaged in a series of debates with one another over the course of the late 19th century which illustrated three sets of varying doctrinal positions. This is based on a series of thoughts I’ve taken notes on over the course of a few years reading the books and journal articles in the bottom of this section. I will try to touch upon the social background of each sect in turn, and then briefly summarize what some of their more important doctrinal differences were. I am forced to discuss doctrine for the simple reason that it is what these sects’ writers wrote most about, and it is what the scholars who study them continue write most about. However, I think that this focus on doctrinal minutia can easily mislead us from observing the more practically relevant characteristics which distinguished them from one another, namely their strategies for dealing with the colonial encounter.

Some Background:

Before delving into the differences it is necessary to make a few remarks on the common context of defeat which all three sects shared. One piece of context is the failure of the Wahabee jihads in the earlier part of the 19th century, a piece of background which almost nobody talks about for some reason. Syed Ahmad Barelvi (not to be confused with the later Barelvi movement) led a jihad against British rule, Sikh rule, and local Muslim rulers whom he considered un-Islamic. His movement gained traction in the 1820s and 1830s, particularly in northwestern India (modern-day Pakistan and Afghanistan). The goal was to establish an Islamic state based on strict adherence to the Quran and Hadith. He fought against the Sikh Empire under Ranjit Singh but was ultimately killed in 1831 at the Battle of Balakot. So that failed.

Depiction of the Battle of Balakot, part of Syed Ahmad Barelvi’s Jihadi campaign against the Sikhs, in which he was killed in battle against Maharaja Ranjit Singh

A second failure is the failure of the 1856 mutiny the Muslim ulema was starkly confronted with the weakness of their position in the post-Mughal political environment. As a whole they attributed the decline of Muslim power not to a political failure or to technological factors, but rather to a failure to live as proper Muslims. It was the desire to revive and reform true Islam amongst the Indian Muslims which constituted the overall driving motivation behind this spate of sectarian proliferation. Though all three groups were all philosophically anti-western and religiously conservative in the doctrinal sense, they were modern and “westernized” insofar as they made use of western cultural forms (education) and technologies (printing).

And then a third, which doesn’t require much elaboration, is just the overall failure of Muslim regimes to retain control over the Indian subcontinent in the first place, and their loss of sovereignty (including the end of their domination over Hindus and Sikhs) and subjugation by the British.

Shah Waliullah’s (1703–1762) school of thought is the ultimate progenitor of all three schools which I’ll be considering, though his ideas are advanced along different lines in each sect. On the one hand, it is true that Waliullah promoted the use of independent reasoning to analyze the Quran and Hadith, and wanted to make these texts more available without any commentary, at least to the Persian reading public. This is the part of his teaching which would be emphasized by the Deobandis and the Ahl-i-Hadis. On the other hand, he also valued the teachings of Islam’s historical intellectual and jurisprudential schools, and utilized them in his own Quranic interpretation. In addition, while he challenged some traditional Sufi practices, he was an overall supporter of Sufism and intended to reform rather than oppose Sufism. These are the aspects which would be emphasized by the Barelvi sect. He additionally enjoined his followers to adhere to Hanafi law in particular. On this point the Deobandis and Barelvis agreed (a rare occasion), while the Ahl-i-Hadis dissented. From this alone we can already see the general pattern forming: Barelvis adopt a more permissive traditionalist position, Ahl-i-Hadis adopt a conservative textualist position, and Deobandis adopt a conservative traditionalist position.

Modern portrait of Shah Waliullah Dehlawi

Now let us examine each school in turn.

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Earliest Glimpses of Colorado Hinduism

The early 20th century in Denver marks a fragmented period for the presence of Hinduism, a time when authentic Hindu philosophy and spirituality began to emerge alongside a flurry of sensationalist and dubious claims. The Vedanta Society made a brief but notable appearance, attempting to establish a foothold for genuine Hindu teachings, though its influence appears to have been transient. More dominant in this period, however, were hucksters and lecturers who used Hindu concepts and imagery in ways that blended Western spiritualism, occultism, and commercial opportunism. Even among these figures, it is difficult to discern where genuine spiritual intent ended and snake-oil salesmanship began. These fragments highlight a historical moment where the public’s fascination with the exotic and mysterious often overshadowed earnest efforts to introduce Hindu traditions, creating an ambiguous and complicated legacy that warrants further exploration.

The absolute earliest fragments are some scattered references (2) in very early (1894) newspaper about Hindu beliefs or publications, but they are very sparse, and view the subject hazily and at a distance.

Some other very early articles contextualizing the extremely early Vedantic and Theosophical period in the context of the concern, anxiety, or even panic surrounding New Thought, occult, and other novel turn of the century religious movements are as follows:

Older Christian Science (1899)

Age of Spiritual Hunger (1903)

Mixture of Odd Beliefs (1910)

Wrongly Blamed (1906)

But for where there is more meat to the story, I will start with something a little more concrete:

The earliest reference I’ve been able to find of a Hindu actually visiting Colorado is actually a Brahmo Sajami, B. B. Nagarkar, who visited in 1894, having previously represented that tradition at the Chicago Congress of Religions the previous year. Despite the Brahmo Samaj being one of the first to bring Hindu thought to Denver and perhaps the US in general, its influence would eventually be eclipsed by the Ramakrishna movement, which gained prominence in the early 20th century, particularly through the work of Swami Vivekananda. Nevertheless, Nagarkar’s visit marks an important early moment of direct engagement between Hinduism and Colorado, predating the later widespread interest in Vedanta and other aspects of Hinduism that would follow with the Ramakrishna Mission and other movements.

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“My Body = My Property”?

I recently saw some Libertarian women carrying a sign which said “My Body = My Property”. I suppose they were doing this as a sort of alternative permutation of “My Body, My Choice” to lend themselves an explicitly Libertarian flare to their pro-abortion rights advocacy. This is also a common sentiment and justification for abortion rights which I have heard from many Libertarians. However then I thought…. “Is it really property though?” This actually seems somewhat contentious. Let me go over some perspectives in order from least to most persuasive to me. Unlike a lot of what I post here, this will just be a few spur of the moment thoughts rather than something deeply researched and considered. This shouldn’t be construed as implying any particular stance on abortion.

The sign in question

On one hand, on a Marxist critique, for instance, one might argue that by viewing the body as “property,” we’re objectifying it, treating it as an object subject to public decision over ownership and control, a thing to be utilized and exploited, an form of alienation splitting the integrated self upon itself. You can also see how this would flow into a feminist critique where the body is now becoming an object or a commodity to be controlled, purchased or exchanged.

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Review of Nonviolence Consumption and Community Among Ancient Indian Ascetics

I recently read this book, which I would like to share my impressions of. Or at least my impressions of the first essay, entitled “The Politics of Alms gathering: Asceticism, Exchange, and the Alimentary Ethics of Ancient Buddhist and Jain Mendicants”. It is a fairly short book consisting of just two essays, so it is the type of thing which is easy to read and review. The first essay was quite interesting. I feel as though a Jain reading it would be irritated and maybe have some counterarguments. Nevertheless, I’ll just present it relatively uncritically, as this is more of a summary or a book review than a full analysis which would require further follow up research. 

Gandhara depiction of the emaciated Buddha, in the midst of his harsh ascetic practice prior to receiving enlightenment. (Also the profile pic of Videshi Sutra!)

Sutherland frames ancient Indian monastic communities in a way I haven’t heard before, though which in retrospect is rather intuitive. The idea is that Jain, Ajivika, Buddhist, and even Hindu renunciates all at one point in time late in classical antiquity followed a relatively similar pattern of monastic life (and continued to do so into the middle ages, and to some minor extent still do) centered around relatively extreme renunciation and ascetic practices, including wandering throughout cities and villages, isolation in the forest for extended periods of time, and a pretty extreme impulse towards maintaining some iteration of “purity”. Namely, purity of the sort which would be required to attain moksha, or nirvana, which sometimes could be termed “ritual purity” though that concept is not really inclusive enough to describe this.

Lets pause on this for a moment. This is unique and interesting to me because while we sometimes think of sramanas as sort of consisting of one distinct class of monks. We often think of them as being united by some implicit non-vedic doctrines, or perhaps a shared prehistory which is no longer accessible to us. Thinking of them as instead united by a shared practice is a different idea, an interesting one to me, and one which might offer a more obvious explanation of how it is that Brahminical ascetics were effectively part of the same system, social milieu, and world of ideas.

Continuing on, This whole ascetic programme created a problem, because now you have renunciates who basically don’t engage in the normal social world at all except in one particular respect, which is how they get their food. This link with normal society, though very thin, is a potential vessel for contamination. What if the food you take entails violence in some way? Now you’ve got that karma, that papam. What if the person giving it to you is ritually impure? Now you’ve got that on you as well. (Side note on that: Actually, just as this is a problem for the ascetic, it is also a social function of an ascetic. The ascetic, assuming he is powerful enough, has the spiritual power to “burn through” or “digest” the karma of the laity, which they themselves do not possess. In this sense giving the ascetic food relieves the laity of their papam via the symbolic act of donation, and allows the ascetic to dispense with the karmic debt in a sort of specialized form of spiritual labor. Though obviously this entails risk on behalf of the ascetic). What if you start storing up the food? Now you’ve got acquisitions and property which opens the door to materialistic living and an abandonment of ascetic practice. What if the food tastes really good? Now you’ve become mired in attachments as well. So these monks are in a situation where they have to be really really concerned about what types of food they take, who they take it from, and under what circumstances. This puts them in an odd situation where they are nominally independent and free of social strictures and conventions, while also being totally at the mercy of the productive classes of society for their food, while also being subject to risks imposed by the “sinful” acts of that same society.

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Kurukshetra

“I warned you once that

Duryodhana’s mischief

Would be the cause of

The annihilation of the kingdom.”

–Vidura in Mahabharata (207.30)[1]

This post will be shorter than normal.

I was shocked to discover that there didn’t exist online any approximate charting of the opposing alliances which fought at the battle of Kurukshetra in the Mahabharata, according to the mythology. I’ve decided to fill that gap. This map is based on the information in F. E. Pargiter’s article called “The Nations of India at the Battle between the Pandavas and Kauravas,” and the “Races, Tribes and Castes” section of the Samsad Companion to the Mahabharata.[2] I used the map located on AncientVoice as the basis image.

EpicIndia2caps1

Let me be clear that the position of several of these names, particularly those outside the subcontinent, and the “borders” themselves are somewhat speculative. Not to mention that the historicity of the war’s events are questionable, though the story is most probably based in fact.

The most useful section of Pargiter’s article lists the alliances as follows (unfortunately I could not include his diacritical marks):

“We may sum up these results in the following way, leaving out of account all the insignificant tribes which merely furnished contingents to the larger kingdoms, that were near them and that claimed some overlordship over them.

“On the Pandava’s side were these: ––

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Book Review: Yajnaseni- The Story of Draupadi

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Yajnaseni by Pratibha Ray and translated by Pradip Bhattacharya is a retelling of the Mahabharata from the viewpoint of Draupadi. In the original epic she is the wife of the five Pandava brothers, the protagonists. This book makes Draupadi into the protagonist, similar to “The Palace of Illusions”. Readers who are unfamiliar with the original tale will probably find this book confusing. The Mahabharata has a huge cast of characters and this book doesn’t thoroughly them all. It was written by an Indian for Indians, so it presupposes a base level of knowledge about the original story (remember, this was originally written in Oriya). The sentence construction is also obviously Indian, seeming imitative of the protracted, overly dramatic dialogue style of ancient texts. Before I rant against the core message of the book, I should note that I enjoyed reading it for its unique perspective on gender issues, which is rarely heard in the West. Also, while the dialogue may have been a bit stilted or odd at times, the descriptions of war, death, sorrow as well as of natural beauty, urban beauty, courage, and strength were quite lovely. I’m a sucker for descriptive prose.

Despite being a tale told from a female perspective, this is basically an anti-feminist work in my evaluation. Draupadi constantly endures hardship because of her gender, and the frankly unreasonable expectations, which the Pandava brothers have of her. Even accepting arranged marriages as a given social norm, she is forced into a polygamous marriage, which she is initially quite hostile to. Throughout the story she is forced to live in the forest, forced into a scheduled mating pattern with her five husbands, has her children killed in a war due to the actions of her husbands, is humiliated in court due to her oldest husband gambling her away as an article of property, etc. etc. etc. She bears all of this willingly, and even lovingly. She is the epitome of the “good Hindu wife”. She worships her husbands (particularly Arjuna) literally as Gods. Jai Patidev.

Now, it would be one thing if the story were written for us to read this and say “What a tragic character! She had to endure all of this abuse because of the faulty moral beliefs of her day. If only she could have broken out of that paradigm and seen her own enslavement.” But it isn’t written that way at all. It is written for us to admire her for her submission, and willingness to live entirely for her husbands’ sake and for Krishna. Her obedience and submission, i.e. her adherence to her wifely Dharma regardless of any consequences is supposed to be admired. This is precisely why the morality of the Bhagavad Gita if followed diligently (and God forbid, in conjunction with the moral goals of Manu Smriti) is pathologically self abusive. Thankfully, there is a much better moral model in the story: Karna. But before I get to that, here are some quotes relating to Draupadi to illustrate what I’m talking about:

Draupadi: “I have made an offering of my life to keep the five Pandavas bound together”

“Removing pride from within me, I pour out my femininity like an offering of flowers before my husbands, made fragrant by the water of desireless action. I try not to be envious under any circumstances…. I never eat or lie down before my husbands eat or lie down. I am up before they get up. I am never lazy in their work. If they return from a long journey, I keep seat, water, food, resting place ready for them. Despite servants being available, I keep watch on household chores. I cook their favorite food myself and serve it with my own hands. I do not burden them with my own worried and anxieties. Rather, participating in their concerns, I offer my views. I do not spend too much time on toilet, bath and dressing. If my husbands are far away, I refrain from decorating myself. I do not make interest in matters which they dislike. Without their having to tell me I am able to sense their likes and dislikes. I am never interested in arguing fruitlessly or in rolling about in meaningless mirth. The most important thing is that I never doubt them, nor do I ever shower them with unnecessary compliments. Similarly I never keep anything secret from them… I anticipate their wishes, even their commands to servants. I never describe the wealth, prosperity, luxury of my father’s house before my husbands… I do not mention any woman as more fortunate than myself. I do not feel it necessary to display my innumerable desires before my husbands. I do not spend time in private with another man. I avoid women who are of a cunning nature. In front of my husbands I try to appear fresh, beautiful, ever youthful.”

Raja Ravi Varma

The next quote requires some context. All of the Pandavas have barely escaped death, and Draupadi is clasping Arjuna’s feet in joyful relief that he has survived. Arjuna is the husband who she is most truly in love with, and she has just poured her heart out onto him:

“Arjun quickly removed his feet, ‘As a wife, all [the Pandava brothers] are your husbands. You ought to behave in the same manner with all… If we countenance injustice then the defeat of the Pandavas is inevitable. Draupadi, remove this mountainous burden of unjust love from me. That is all’ I thought my grief would provide Arjun with some encouragement. But lecturing me regarding justice, law, rules, he again turned me into an untouchable. My tears keep flowing, washing away the guilt and sin of loving my husband.”

Ok. After I read this book I checked to see what people on Goodreads were saying. Some were critical of Draupadi’s depiction, but some were not. Examine this user’s review of the book:

“I must admit that I have always had a sneaking fondness for the proud princess of Panchal. I have found in her a strength that is lacking in most other mythological heroines. Sita, I have always visualised as a doormat, but masculine culture will portray her as the womans softer side, while Draupadi is unabashedly and prominently a queen, with a womans pride, a sharp intellect and a strong will. Very few women in Indian mythology were strong enough to speak their own minds. Imagine then, my delight in coming across a novel in which Draupadi finally comes into her own.”

Even considering all of the above passages, this (presumably female and presumably Hindu) reviewer still considers Draupadi a strong and proud character. Clearly, the system of morality represented by Draupadi is alive and well.

Thank God Karna is in the tale.

karna

In my eyes, this retelling makes Karna into the greatest hero of the story. He is kind to those who treat him well, and spiteful to those who denigrate or abuse him for no reason. He is also supremely generous, courageous, and honest. The reader is supposed to think that he is deeply flawed because of his pride, egoism, and “arrogance”. However I see these as virtues, especially when compared to the slavish nature of Draupadi and the servile obedience exhibited by the Pandavas towards Krishna. Karna’s boldness in combination with his more traditionally “moral” traits (honesty, generosity, loyalty etc.) makes him a well-rounded character, and (almost) an ideal Man. He is the greatest warrior who has ever lived. He has reason to be proud. His greatest flaw is supposed to be that he relies on himself to achieve greatness rather than relying on Krishna. This is to me, his greatest virtue.

Perhaps Draupadi should take some lessons from Karna.

“Mocking, Karna said, ‘Lady! I acknowledge that your husband [Arjuna] is brave. But I fail to understand what sort of man he is. If I were in Arjun’s place and Ma [Queen Kunti] had ordered that the woman I had won in the svayamvar [contest to win a bride] was to be shared by other brothers, I would have left that kingdom…I do not consider blindly obeying improper directives as the sign of manhood. This is the only difference between Arjun and myself.

Karna is the best.

Again, while it might look like I’m highly critical of this book I actually really enjoyed it. Characters like Draupadi almost never exist in American books (outside of 50 Shades of Grey). Besides, if you have a more dignified, achievement oriented moral outlook there is always Karna to root for.