We must look to the past, not Isis, for the true meaning of Islam

Emir Abdelkader was a Muslim, Sufi, sheikh, humanist, protector of his people against Western barbarism, protector of Christians against Muslim barbarism, so noble that Abe Lincoln sent him a pair of Colt pistols, writes Robert Fisk on the Independent. Read on: 

After the Manchester massacre… yes, and after Nice and Paris, Mosul and Abu Ghraib and 7/7 and the Haditha massacre – remember those 28 civilians, including children, killed by US Marines, four more than Manchester but no minute’s silence for them? And of course 9/11…

Counterbalancing cruelty is no response, of course. Just a reminder. As long as we bomb the Middle East instead of seeking justice there, we too will be attacked. But what we must concentrate upon, according to the monstrous Trump, is terror, terror, terror, terror, terror. And fear. And security. Which we will not have while we are promoting death in the Muslim world and selling weapons to its dictators. Believe in “terror” and Isis wins. Believe in justice and Isis is defeated.

So I suspect it’s time to raise the ghost of a man known as the Emir Abdelkader – Muslim, Sufi, sheikh, ferocious warrior, humanist, mystic, protector of his people against Western barbarism, protector of Christians against Muslim barbarism, so brave that the Algerian state insisted his bones were brought home from his beloved Damascus, so noble that Abe Lincoln sent him a pair of Colt pistols and the French gave him the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honour. He loved education, he admired the Greek philosophers, he forbade his fighters to destroy books, he worshipped a religion which believed – so he thought – in human rights. But hands up all readers who know the name of Abdelkader.

We should think of him now more than ever. He was not a “moderate” because he fought back savagely against the French occupation of his land. He was not an extremist because, in his imprisonment at the Chateau d’Amboise, he talked of Christians and Muslims as brothers. He was supported by Victor Hugo and Lord Londonderry and earned the respect of Louis-Napoleon Bonaparte (later Napoleon III) and the French state paid him a pension of 100,000 francs. He deserved it.

Muslim historians claim Abdelkader saved 15,000 Christians, which may be a bit of an exaggeration. But here was a man for Muslims to emulate and Westerners to admire

When the French invaded Algeria, Abdelkader Ibn Muhiedin al-Juzairi (Abdelkader, son of Muhiedin, the Algerian,1808-1883, for those who like obituaries) embarked on a successful guerrilla war against one of the best equipped armies in the Western world – and won. He set up his own state in western Algeria – Muslim but employing Christian and Jewish advisors – and created separate departments (defence, education, etc), which stretched as far as the Moroccan border. It even had its own currency, the “muhamediya”. He made peace with the French – a truce which the French broke by invading his lands yet again. Abdelkader demanded a priest to minister for his French prisoners, even giving them back their freedom when he had no food for them. The French sacked the Algerian towns they captured, a hundred Hadithas to suppress Abdelkader’s resistance. When at last he was defeated, he surrendered in honour – handing over his horse as a warrior – on the promise of exile in Alexandria or Acre. Again the French betrayed him, packing him off to prison in Toulon and then to the interior of France.

Yet in his French exile, he preached peace and brotherhood and studied French and spoke of the wisdom of Plato and Socrates, Aristotle and Ptolemy and Averoes and later wrote a book, Call to the Intelligent, which should be available on every social media platform. He also, by the way, wrote a book on horses which proves he was ever an Arab in the saddle. But his courage was demonstrated yet again in Damascus in 1860 where he lived as an honoured exile. The Christian-Druze civil war in Lebanon had spread to Damascus where the Christian population found themselves surrounded by the Muslim Druze who arrived with Isis-like cruelty, brandishing swords and knives to slaughter their adversaries.

Abdelkader sent his Algerian Muslim guards – his personal militia – to bash their way through the mob and escort more than 10,000 Christians to his estate. And when the crowds with their knives arrived at his door, he greeted them with a speech which is still recited in the Middle East (though utterly ignored these days in the West). “You pitiful creatures!” he shouted. “Is this the way you honour the Prophet? God punish you! Shame on you, shame! The day will come when you will pay for this … I will not hand over a single Christian. They are my brothers. Get out of here or I’ll set my guards on you.”

Muslim historians claim Abdelkader saved 15,000 Christians, which may be a bit of an exaggeration. But here was a man for Muslims to emulate and Westerners to admire. His fury was expressed in words which would surely have been used today against the cult-like caliphate executioners of Isis. Of course, the “Christian” West would honour him at the time (although, interestingly, he received a letter of praise from the Muslim leader of wildly independent Chechnya). He was an “interfaith dialogue” man to please Pope Francis.

Abdelkader was invited to Paris. An American town was named after him – Elkader in Clayton County, Iowa, and it’s still there, population 1,273. Founded in the mid-19th century, it was natural to call your home after a man who was, was he not, honouring the Rights of Man of American Independence and the French Revolution? Abdelkader flirted with Freemasonry – most scholars believe he was not taken in – and loved science to such an extent that he accepted an invitation to the opening of the Suez Canal, which was surely an imperial rather than a primarily scientific project. Abdelkader met De Lesseps. He saw himself, one suspects, as Islam’s renaissance man, a man for all seasons, the Muslim for all people, an example rather than a saint, a philosopher rather than a priest.

But of course, Abdelkader’s native Algeria is a neighbour of Libya from where Salman Abedi’s family came, and Abdelkader died in Syria, whose assault by US aircraft – according to Abedi’s sister – was the reason he slaughtered the innocent of Manchester. And so geography contracts and history fades, and Abedi’s crime is, for now, more important than all of Abdelkader’s life and teaching and example. So for Mancunians, whether they tattoo bees onto themselves or merely buy flowers, why not pop into Manchester’s central library in St Peter’s Square and ask for Elsa Marsten’s The Compassionate Warrior or John Kiser’s Commander of the Faithful or, published just a few months ago, Mustapha Sherif’s L’Emir Abdelkader: Apotre de la fraternite?

They are no antidotes for sorrow or mourning. But they prove that Isis does not represent Islam and that a Muslim can earn the honour of the world.

Book Review: Rumi's Secret

'Rumi's Secret' offers an expanded view of the 13th-century poet and mystic. The Rumi we know today might never have emerged, if not for three profound friendships, writes Elizabeth Lund in the book review on The Christian Science Monitor:

Millions of readers in America and around the world know the name Rumi is synonymous with love poetry, but they don’t know much about the life of the beloved 13th-century Persian poet and Sufi mystic. The new biography Rumi’s Secret, by Brad Gooch – the bestselling author of biographies about Flannery O’Conner and Frank O’Hara – provides important insights yet also raises questions.

As Gooch explains in the prologue, which flows with the ease of good fiction, the idea of Rumi’s secret came from a conversation Gooch had with a merchant named Sebastian in Aleppo, Syria, in 2011. Sebastian compared Rumi to the American Walt Whitman – another poet revered for the universality of his writing – who “never tells his secret!”

Gooch follows that fascinating statement with one of his own: “Rumi did have secrets – personal, poetic, and theological – that he was always both revealing and concealing.”

Some of the poet’s smaller secrets are revealed in the book’s first section, which opens with Rumi, at five years old, seeing angels. His father, an esteemed Muslim preacher and teacher, explained that the beings had come to bring him favor and invisible gifts.

When Rumi – whose given name was Mohammad – was six, his family began a 2,500-mile trek from their home in Vakhsh (in present-day Tajikistan) that would take years to complete. Along the way, they followed the Silk Road to Bagdad and to Mecca – which all Muslims are required to visit at least once in their lifetime. They also spent time in several cities as Rumi’s father sought opportunities to teach and safety from ongoing political upheavals and invading Mongols.

In every locale, the precocious Rumi – whose father sometimes called him Jalaloddin, meaning splendor of the faith – absorbed the sights and sounds, which would one day color his poetry, as in these lines: “Speak Persian, though Arabic is more beautiful/ Love speaks a hundred different languages.” He also developed a deep understanding of the longings and losses people experience during tumultuous times.

The family finally settled in Konya, where Rumi, now married and a father,would spend most of his adult life, after furthering his studies in Aleppo and Damascus. In Konya, he became renowned for his teaching and preaching and was called Mowlana – “our master” – and, eventually, Rumi, which is derived from “Rum” or “Rome” – meaning Byzantium.

Yet as subsequent sections show, the Rumi we know today might never have emerged if not for three profound friendships. The first and most impactful was with Shams of Tabriz, a mystic who came to Konya after decades of traveling and spiritual seeking.

Shortly after the two met, they went into seclusion, where Shams urged Rumi to stop reading other writers (including his father), to be honest and heartfelt, rather than refined, and to reject the trappings of his prestigious career and demanding religious life. Instead, Shams encouraged Rumi to use music, sung poetry, and whirling to “literally spin loose of language and logic, while opening and warming his heart.”

Rumi viewed Shams as a teacher who could help him overcome his pride, as evidenced in these lines:

You speak for God, you see the Truth,

You save the world from drowning in an ocean of fire

A king beyond compare, your majesty is eternal

You lead the soul away from harmful desires

Shams, always a controversial figure, also taught Rumi about the pain of separation by abruptly leaving the city, in part to test Rumi’s loyalty. The first time Shams left – for Aleppo, 400 miles away – Rumi responded by writing poetry ghazals (which would become his favorite poetic form) to channel his feelings and demonstrate the creativity Shams had nurtured. The second time Shams disappeared, Rumi spent months searching for his friend, who was presumed dead.

The acceptance of that loss forever changed Rumi, who became known for his quiet acts of kindness, humility, and willingness to speak with anyone. His writing deepened and flourished.

Rumi had two other cherished friends: a goldsmith named Salah, who had studied with Rumi’s tutor from childhood, and Hosam, one of Rumi’s loyal followers. Both served as muse and spiritual axis, but with different functions. Where Salah was like a calm mirror, helping Rumi find peace, Hosan was a conduit and scribe for Rumi’s long poem "Masnavi," which is quoted throughout the book.

According to Gooch, there is no evidence that these relationships were romantic. Yet because of the way he portrays them – with movie-like intensity and drama – he creates enough ambiguity to leave readers wondering, especially about Shams. Some may also question the validity of conversations and details shared hundreds of years after the fact, despite Gooch’s thorough references.

The book is important, however, because it illustrates how each man helped the poet learn about love (both human and divine), the process of giving up the self to make room for something purer and higher, and transcendence. The work also shows how the poet came to realize the logic and importance of a religion of the heart, which is described in these lines: “The mosque inside the hearts of holy men/ Is a place of worship for everyone. God is there."

That idea resonates with contemporary audiences. Yet as Gooch explains in the afterword, it, like many of Rumi’s practices – such as whirling and elevating a human being to the level of God or the Prophet Mohammad – were controversial in his day. Rumi’s “veil of secrecy was a virtue and an artistic style in the broader culture of the time.”

That veil is equally effective in our tell-tale age because Rumi’s “aesthetic of secrets” as Gooch calls it, broadens and deepens his writing. For example, Rumi saw both Shams and God as the light of the sun, “and in speaking of the beloved he was also speaking of the unspeakable, or approaching the unspeakable, as the essence of God is love.” 

The Life of Rumi in Rare Islamic Manuscript Paintings from the 1590s

The Persian poet and mystic Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Balkhi (1207-1273), better known as Rumi, endures as one of history’s most beloved and oft-quoted thinkers. A handful of Persian accounts of Rumi’s life have been written, most famously the first by his son and the third, focusing on Rumi’s moralizing miracle stories, ordered by Rumi’s grandson and written by the dervish Shams al-Din A?mad, called Aflaki (d. 1360). In 1590, some three and a half centuries after Aflaki’s writings, the Ottoman sultan Murad III ordered a Turkish translation of a 1540 abridged version of Aflaki’s text entitled Tarjuma-i Thawaqib-i manaqib (Stars of the Legend). Two illustrated copies of the Murad translation survive — one, dated 1599, is held by Istanbul’s Topkapi Palace and features 22 miniatures; the other, a more lavish manuscript dating to the 1590s and including 29 miniatures, is held by New York’s Morgan Library.

From The Morgan Library’s collection of Islamic manuscript paintings comes this remarkable glimpse of the rare manuscript, which captures the illustrated “life and miracles” of Rumi with equal parts visual poetry and deep respect.

The Seljuk Sultan’s Courtier Disturbs Rumi’s Visit to his Father’s Grave

Rumi Leaves the ?alawiyya Madrasa at Aleppo at Midnight Followed by his
Teacher Kamal Al-Din Ibn Cadim, Ruler of Aleppo

Religious Dispute Between Rumi and the Qa?i Siraj Al-Din Ormavi

A Young Merchant and Rumi Follower Cures the Gravely Ill Frankish King in Eqypt

A Water Monster Begs Rumi’s Wife to Intercede for Him

Dogs in a Market Listen to Rumi, Who Praises their Understanding and Attention

Mystical Scene with Shams Al-Din Tabrizi and the Reflection of Sun in a Pool

Rumi Spends a Day in the Hot Baths od a ?ammam

The Prophet Mu?ammad Reveals to Cali Secrets Revealed to Him During the Miscraj (Night Ride to Heaven)

An Escaped Bull Seeks Refuge at Rumi’s Feet

Musa (Moses) Tells the Giant Cüj Ibn Canaq How to Curb an Appetite

Konya, Besieged During a Fight for the Throne of Sultan Suleyman’s Two Sons, is Protected by Clouds of Salt

The Funeral of Jalal Al-Din Rumi

See more in The Morgan Library’s online exhibition Treasures of Islamic Manuscript Painting from the Morgan. You can support the Morgan and their tireless preservation of history here.

For a modern rendering inspired by these classic manuscripts, see the exquisitely designed 2010 tome The Illustrated Rumi: A Treasury of Wisdom from the Poet of the Soul.

(Source: Brainpickings)