Alhassanain(p) Network for Heritage and Islamic Thought

SAYI 36 • 2010

OSMANLI ARAŞTIRMALARI

THE JOURNAL OF OTTOMAN STUDIES

Beyond Dominant Paradigms in Ottoman and Middle Eastern / North African Studies

A Tribute to Rifa‘at Abou-El-Haj

Misafir Editörler / Guest Editors

Donald Quataert and Baki Tezcan

The Shi‘ite ‘ulama’, the madrasas, and Educational Reform in the Late Ottoman Period

Rula Jurdi Abisaab*

www.academia.edu

www.alhassanain.org/english

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Table of Contents

Social Divisions and Land Reform in Jabal ‘Amil 7

The Shi‘ite ‘ulama’, ‘Heresy,’ and the Ottoman State 10

The ‘Amili ‘ulama’ and the state in the nineteenth century 14

The ‘ulama’, the madrasas and the Ottoman Public Schools 17

Educational Modernization and the ‘Amili madrasas 19

Afterthought 22

Notes 23

[Introduction]

Jabal ‘Amil’s history is associated with renowned Shi‘ite madrasas (schools) and illustrious jurists who left their mark on the history of Twelver Shi‘ite law and jurisprudence. Jabal ‘Amil was part of the coastal range of Syria that stretched from the Mediterranean Sea in the west to Jabal al-Shaykh in the east and from Jabal al-Rihan in the north to Jabal al-Karmil in the south.1 Jabal ‘Amil was shared during the Ottoman period by two governorships, namely, the sancak (region) of Sidon-Beirut which covered the northern districts and the sancak of Safad which covered the southern districts. Both belonged to the eyalet (province) of Damascus.2 This study throws light on the socio-economic conditions in Jabal ‘Amil during the late Ottoman period, the complex relations of its Shi‘ite ‘ulama’ to the state, and their approaches to Ottoman educational modernism. This study elucidates also the transformation in Ottoman legal-doctrinal ‘orthodoxy’ and the activities of the Shi‘ite ‘ulama’ who claimed some power through both adjustment and dissent toward this ‘orthodoxy.’ It underscores the expansion in the public functions of the Shi‘ite ‘ulama’ from the 1870s until 1919-20, the optimism they expressed about the reign of Sultan Abdulhamid II (r. 1876-1909) and the general adaptations they made to Ottoman educational reforms.

The increase in Ottoman bureaucratic specialization and private ownership of land among the provincial elites were symptomatic of early modern centralization in the state (and nascent secularizing initiatives) during the seventeenth century, as Rifa‘at Abou-El-Haj has suggested.3 This development had long-term implications for the Ottoman educational system in the eighteenth century which adapted European educational methods (particularly French) with the hope of increasing the control of the ruling elites over state service in the provinces.4 By the nineteenth century the expanding and intricate Ottoman bureaucracy needed functionaries with the expertise to run it, and an educational system that could produce such type of expertise.5 The recasting of the educational reforms especially during the Hamidian era brought significant developments in the functions of the Shi‘ite ‘ulama’ of Jabal ‘Amil and their relations to the Ottoman state. With the encouragement of Ottoman provincial governors the ‘Amili ‘ ulama’ founded and administered new madrasas that integrated “modern” teaching methods and introduced new subjects of study. These madrasas also taught publicly Twelver Shi‘ite doctrine, law and jurisprudence. This period marked an expansion in the official clerical and scholarly services which the Shi‘ite ‘ulama’ offered to lay society. The scope of this study does not permit an analysis of the local ‘Amili approaches to the larger question of legal and cultural islah (reform) or the social forces shaping it. Suffice to mention that themadrasas which embraced reform during this period considered such reform part of tajdid, “renewal” from within Islam’s discursive traditions. This was manifest in the preservation of the legal-religious sciences while introducing modern scientific fields of study and placing emphasis on literature. In terms of pedagogy, the madrasas used simplified textbooks and set up shorter and more structured classes. On the long run, however, increasing secularization disrupted theshari‘a’s rubric and the ‘ulama’s functions as muftis and teachers. With the end of Ottomanrule the ‘ulama’ struggled to assert their relevance to a modernizing society and its young nation-state, Grand Liban, established under the auspices of the French in 1920.

Social Divisions and Land Reform in Jabal ‘Amil

The Ottoman administration had experienced increasing specialization and bureaucratic diversification since the late sixteenth century that marked the onset of its modernization.6 Abou-El-Haj suggested that modernization was not the outcome of a decision to Westernize in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries through the Ottoman Tanzimat (re-organization) but was a natural outcome of socio-economic transformation evident in the seventeenth century. He noted that the central treasury’s need for cash led to the spread of tax farming. The state relied on local elites across its provinces to supervise tax collection and expected them to “finance their own retinues of armed men” to help levy these taxes locally.7 The tax farmers, appointed initially for short periods of time, reached oppressive levels in extracting taxes from the taxpayers. This weakened the peasants’ ability to pay and undermined the tax farming system altogether.8 For this reason, life-term (instead of short-term) tax farming, known as malikane, was instituted in the eighteenth century by the state to protect the taxpayers and tenants against extreme exploitation and subsequently bring benefit to the state. In return for their supervision of tax collection, the provincial eliteswere granted land as private property. Yet the increase in malikanes became a source of worry to the Ottoman central administration.9 Some provincial elites had intensified their control of the peasantry, enjoyed greater autonomy from the state, and possibly started to profit from increased trade with Europe.10

In the early nineteenthcentury another phase of Ottoman administrative and rural reform was underway. The Ottomans tried to collect taxes more effectively and reverse the debilitating effects of the tax farming system on the peasants. They also aimed to decrease the autonomy and arbitrary practices of tax farming officers and large landowners. In Jabal ‘Amil, Ottoman officials urged commoners and notables alike to register fixed areas of lands in their names. In this manner the Ottoman state was no longer preoccupied with whether the landwas planted or not, as was the case with the miri (or ‘ushr) lands where tax was collected in kind. Rather the Ottomans levied directly a permanent annual tax on the land.11 Ottoman land reforms, however, faced many hurdles because peasants had to come up with registration fees for the land and pay taxes on it. Some neglected to register these lands in their names or decided to sell them for a cheap price to thetax farming officers or large landowners.12 This picture was compounded by the onset of World War I (1914-1918). The Ottoman army required that land taxesbe paid in kind rather than in cash. Tarif Khalidi argued that in Jabal ‘Amil the agricultural produce was inaccurately assessed leaving the peasants and the multazims (tax collectors) with more than their “allotted portion of tax revenue at the expense of the militarized state.” 13 He suggested that the ‘Amilis benefited from this system of taxation and improved their social conditions. The system may have introduced a new upper social stratum, namely, the wujaha’, or notables made up of intermediary financial and administrative officials in the three major municipal districts of Jabal ‘Amil – Sidon, Tyre, and Marji’yun. It is doubtful, however, how profitable the underassessment of crops was for the ‘Amili peasants who struggled with taxes, forced military conscription, hunger, and epidemics during the World War. The Ottomans leviedan a‘shar tax which was one-tenth of the value of agricultural production. It was the state’s share of peasant production from all cereals and fruits like figs and grapes, and from olive oil and beeproduction.14 Several notables competed over tax farming (iltizam) privileges from the Ottoman state which specified before the start of each agricultural season, the duration of a tax farming assignment. In order to avoid loss of profit, the zu‘ama’ (provincial chieftains or leaders) competing for iltizam started to dividethe a‘shar tax of all villages among themselves irrespective of who is given the iltizam in a particular year.Each za‘im (pl. zu‘ama’) then had a portion in the tax farmed village areas. He exempted at times influential village members from the ‘ushr tax or appeased them with money whenever his agents who were entrusted with the collection of the ‘ushr engaged in abusive acts to extract extra profit.15

‘Amili society witnessed greater stratification and intra-elite divisions in the late Ottoman period. The zu‘ama’ of al-As’ad family dominated Jabal ‘Amil’s politics and divided tax farming revenues on peasant landholdings among themselves.Meanwhile, the wujaha’ vied with the zu‘ama’ for power, deriving their social status from a combination of commercial activity and education.16 Khalidi explained that the wujaha’ comprised the small urban grain merchants who became civil servants and multazims following the promulgation of the Ottoman land law of 1858.17 The two social strata, the zu‘ama’ and the wujaha’, at times overlapped and were identified together as the afandiyya.18 Among the wujaha’ families were the ‘Usayrans, al-Khalils, and al-Zayns.19 Their intermarriage with prominent ‘ulama’ families cemented alliances between a mercantilist culture and a tradition of Islamic-Shi‘ite learning. It also expanded the power of the ‘ulama’ not merely as religious-legal guides but as social leaders. The growth in the commercial activities of the wujaha’ came to restructure society away from its traditional feudal base which the zu‘ama controlled and justified ideologically.

The ‘ulama’ were a diversified body of kuttab instructors (teachers of the Qur’an), prayer leaders, scholars, seminarians, judges, jurists, and local or regional mujtahids. Some mujtahids were recognized as maraji‘, that is, ideal sources of legal emulation for Shi‘ite believers.20 A mujtahid is a jurist who has command of ijtihad (rational legal inference) deriving legal rulings on questions pertaining to worship and social contracts. “Houses of learning” (buyutat al-‘ilm) included clerics and mujtahids from the Muruwwa, Mughniyya, Sharara, al-Amin, and Sharaf al-Din families who cultivated juridical-legal learning and contributed to discursive Islamic traditions. Several ‘ulama’ were sayyidswho claimed descent from the house of the Prophet but varied in their economic status and power. The marja’, Sayyid ‘Abd al-Husayn Sharaf al-Din (d. 1957), for instance, owned vast properties in Jabal ‘Amil and emerged as a local political leader in the early twentieth century. Themarja‘ who competed with him, namely, Sayyid Muhsin al-Amin (d. 1952) was less affluent. He moved to Damascus where he established his famous school al-Muhsiniyya.21 He maintained his scholarly and teaching activities partly through the awqaf (religious endowments) set up by a group of Damascene merchants.

The conditions of the peasants in Jabal ‘Amil were hardly improved by the 1858 law. The peasants for the most part did not achieve a direct ownership of land or a stable source of livelihood due to the taxes, commissions, and fees they had to pay to intermediary chiefs and civil servants on the land. The ‘Amili peasants were not of equal economic standing for there were those who owned a small land and/or sheep that could barely cover their needs, and others who secured from their land and sheep a little more than their needs which they sold in the market. There were also the falatiyya, “untied” peasants without any land or animals who occupied the lowest stratum in ‘Amili rural society. They did not even own the means of their production andwere hired temporarily for diverse tasks. Common peasants avoided marrying their daughters to falati men.22

The Shi‘ite ‘ulama’, ‘Heresy,’ and the Ottoman State

The relationship of Ottoman state officials to the Shi’ite ‘ulama’ of Jabal ‘Amil developed significantly over time but the full picture for the sixteenth century remains unclear. The period extending from 1516 until the 1570sis poorly documented . Data about Ottoman appointments of qadis in the ‘Amili regions and the administrative procedures relating to questions of heresy and apostasy in the Syrian districts is sporadic. Ottoman archival sources for the late sixteenth and early seventeenth century are largely unexamined. What we do know is that the role of émigré ‘Amili jurists in establishing Twelver Shi‘ism as the state religion of Safavid Iran, the new adversary of the Ottomans in the sixteenth century, did not go unnoticed by the Ottoman state and its chief jurists.In his recent book The Shiites of Lebanon under Ottoman Rule, Stefan Winter illuminated the particular links which the Ottoman state drew between the jurists of Jabal ‘Amil and the public defamation of the first two Caliphs, Abu Bakr and ‘Umar, who represented Sunnite ‘orthodoxy’ and political legitimacy.23 In Safavid Iran, leading ‘Amili jurists such as al-Muhaqqiq al-Karaki (d. 940/1534) encouraged the public denunciation of these Caliphs as the enemies of ahl albayt (the Prophet’s family) and the Imamis. In earlier studies, I discussed the significance of the polemical treatises which the ‘Amili jurists in Iran produced to prove the blasphemy of the first two Caliphs and justify public cursing of them.24 These treatises aimed to challenge the discourse of legal- doctrinal ‘orthodoxy’ underlying Sunnite rule, as well as draw sharper lines between an urban legalistic Shi‘ism on the one hand, and various forms of Sunnism and heterodox Shi‘ism in Iran, on the other.

The case of Zayn al-Din al-‘Amili (d. 965/1558), an outstanding Shi‘ite mujtahid (jurist) from Jabal ‘Amil executed by the Ottomans, deserves a close look. It reveals that an Ottoman legal-doctrinal framework for heresy was applied to Shi‘ite jurists under particular historical circumstances.Based on new sources examined by Richard Blackburn and Stefan Winter these circumstances can now be sought in state legitimacy, provincial Ottoman politics, and local social events.25 Known as al-Shahid al-Thani or “the Second Martyr,” Zayn al-Din was captured in Mecca and executed in Istanbul in 965/1558 at the hands of Rüstem Pasha, the Grand Vizier of Ottoman Sultan Süleyman (r. 926/1520-974/1566).26 The main account of al-Shahid al-Thani’s life provided by his student Muhammad b. ‘Ali b. Hasan al-‘Awdi al-Jizzini reads as a biographical entry at times and at other times as a hagiography that emphasizes al-Shahid al-Thani’s karamat (miracles).27 This valuable account mentions that al-Shahid al-Thani had a conflict with “the qadi Ma‘ruf” in Sidon before he took his trip to Istanbul in 952/1545.28 Al-Shahid al-Thani avoided asking this qadi for an ‘ard, a letter which confirms a scholar’s credentials and integrity as the basis for obtaining an endowed teaching post.29 Al-Shahid al-Thani did not trust the qadi to present him in the best light; he thought that he may in fact jeopardize his professional aims. In this particular reference, the conflict between the qadi and al-Shahid al-Thani seems unrelated to the latter’s activity as a Shi‘ite mujtahid. The information about the ‘ard is somewhat detailed and historically accurate. Normally, the district’s qadi writes such an ‘ard for a scholar who then presents it to the officials in Istanbul. Ibn al-‘Awdi’s account states also that the qadi and al-Shahid al-Thani were friends for some time (kanat baynahu wa baynahu suhbatan wa mudakhala) and does not show that al-Shahid al-Thani’s Shi‘ite identity was the reason for the conflict between them. This is the more significant given that Ibn al-‘Awdi identified another person in the account as “extremely hostile to the Shi‘ites.” 30 In any case, al-Shahid al-Thani’s favorable relations with one or more Sunnite ‘ulama’ in Istanbul allowed him to get a teaching post at an important madrasa, namely, al-Nuriyya in Ba‘labak without recourse to the ‘ard of the qadi of Sidon.31

Al-Shahid al-Thani was proficient in Shi‘ite and Sunnite law and jurisprudence.32 He was well-integrated in Sunnite learning circles and drew vital connections to influential scholars which enhanced his career opportunities.33 Ironically, the same process which allowed al-Shahid al-Thani to gain respect and intellectual recognition in Syria led also to his demise. His practice of ijtihad (rational legal inference) on the basis of the Ja‘fari madhhab (school of law) became publicly known and hence treated by Ottoman officials as a threat to the ‘orthodoxy’ as defined at that time.34 Knowledge about al-Shahid al-Thani’s ijtihad must have surfaced in connection to one or more of the following activities. The first was al-Shahid al-Thani’s private teaching of Shi‘ite law and jurisprudence to a small group of presumably Shi‘ite students at al-Nuriyya school in Ba‘labak.35 The second activity which could have established his practice of ijtihad was his issuing of legal opinions to Shi‘ite believers or his private adjudication of legal cases. A third source of knowledge about the practice of ijtihad was al-Shahid al-Thani’s juridical and legal writings which circulated among Shi‘ite scholars and their madrasas but were accessible to Sunnite scholars.36 We will delineate which of these activities led to the disclosure of al-Shahid al-Thani’s ijtihad. The recently found travel account of Qutb al-Din al-Nahrawali (d. 990/1582) gives a brief description of al-Shahid al-Thani’s execution and the role played by Hasan Beg Efendi, the judge of Damascus (and later Cairo and Mecca). It leaves much untold, however, about the persons who brought al-Shahid al-Thani to the attention of Hasan Beg and their relationship to al-Shahid al-Thani.37 Al-Nahrawali was clearly uninformed about Jabal ‘Amil which he erroneously refers to as “‘Amiri.” 38 He has scanty information about al-Shahid al-Thani’s contacts and activities prior to his interrogation at the hands of Hasan Beg.39 On the accusations directed against al-Shahid al-Thani, al-Nahrawali wrote that one or more ‘ulama’ told Hasan Beg about al-Shahid al-Thani’s activity as a Shi‘ite mujtahid. These ‘ulama’ described him in the following manner: “min kibar ‘ulama’ al-rafida wa huwa mujtahidu madhhabihim” (among the major scholars of the recusants (Shi‘ites) and the mujtahid of their legal school).40 As such, al-Shahid al-Thani was considered to have been deriving the law on the basis of ijtihad; a factor wellarticulated in Ibn al-‘Awdi’s account.41

When Hasan Beg first interrogated al-Shahid al-Thani, he had no actual proof that al-Shahid al-Thani was a Shi‘ite mujtahid. There was no mention of any of al-Shahid al-Thani’s books or writings during the interrogation.This leads one to believe that the ‘ulama’ who insisted he was a Shi‘ite mujtahid were drawing upon information about his legal activities in Ba‘labak or Jabal ‘Amil.42 On the other hand, there is evidence that a large number of Shi‘ite works reached Damascus (even if they did not circulate widely) including more than 100 works possibly handwritten by al-Shahid al-Thani.43 Damascus is an additional locale where al-Shahid al-Thani’s scholarship could have been known. Facing the threat of death, al-Shahid al-Thani pretended in front of Hasan Beg to be a Shafi‘ite Sunnite scholar.44 It was some time after Hasan Beg accepted al-Shahid al-Thani’s explanations and allowed him to leave his court unscathed that a group of Sunnite ‘ulama’ brought al-Shahid al-Thani’s books to Hasan Beg to prove that the former was actually a mujtahid of the “rafidites” or recusants, the Twelver Shi‘ites who rejected the caliphate of Abu Bakr and ‘Umar.45 On this basis, Hasan Beg furnished the ground for al-Shahid al-Thani’s ‘heresy’ and resented being outwitted by al-Shahid al-Thani in front of other ‘ulama’.

Within Shi‘ite circles al-Shahid al-Thani was already known to practice ijtihad at the age of 33, that is, around 948/1541-42.46 Al-Shahid al-Thani realized the gravity of practicing ijtihad under the Ottomans. When he was writing Sharh al-Irshad he did not show parts of it to anyone at first.47 Meanwhile , among Sunnite scholars, Sunnite-based ijtihad was increasingly suppressed which adds a further complexity to al-Shahid al-Thani’s case.Wael Hallaq argued that it was actually in the early sixteenth century, that a strong resistance to the claims of a Sunnite scholar to practice ijtihad emerged.48 The Hanafi and Maliki ‘ulama’ insisted that mujtahids in the Sunnite schools of law were no longer to be found.49 The tendency to reject ijtihad under the Ottoman Hanafi ‘ulama’, and the association which Ottoman officials made between Jabal ‘Amil and Safavid Shi‘ism during the sixteenth and seventeenth century played a significant role in al-Shahid al-Thani’s execution in Istanbul.50 Accusing al-Shahid al-Thani of heresy meant in this context that he violated the doctrinal-legal foundations of Sunnism as defined during the mid-sixteenth century and had thus challenged Ottoman political legitimacy.

During this period, ‘Amili jurists suspected of practicing ijtihad and deriving legal rulings on the basis of theJa‘fari legal school, were considered by state officials to have violated Ottoman Sunnite legal-doctrinal ‘orthodoxy.’ Which public ritual, idea, legal practice, or political alliancewas rendered “heretical” by Ottoman officials at a particular time is not always clear. Meanwhile, Shi‘ite jurists like al-Shahid al-Thani have challenged the foundations of this ‘orthodoxy’ or manipulated elements of it to enhance their social power. Winter noted that the legal framework of heresy did not prevent the Ottomans from readily reinstating a tax farmer or emir from the Shi’ite Hamadas or Harfushes of Ba‘labak-al-Hirmil for practical reasons.51 Shi‘ite subjectswere expected to mediate their needs and resolve their grievances through Sunnite legal courts. Privately, however, Shi‘ite believers turned to their own ‘ulama’ for answers to a wide array of legal questions dealing with worship and social contracts. The ‘Amili ‘ulama’ for the most part were able to manage their own local socioreligious affairs and maintain a sophisticated tradition of Islamic law and jurisprudence.52

There is evidence for a spectrum of taqiyya practices among Ottoman Shi‘ite ‘ulama’ which involves dissimulating one’s Shi’ite affiliation in certain contexts.In scholarly circles, taqiyya meant at times that a Shi‘ite scholar avoided public defense of Twelver Shi‘ite positions against Sunnism even where the identity of the Shi‘ite scholar in question was suspected by his Sunnite colleagues.53 At other times, taqiyya was demanded from Shi‘ite subjects by Ottoman officials themselves as was the case when the state required that Shi‘ites avoid public defamation of Sunnite figures during ‘Ashura’ in the late Ottoman period.54 It was clearly understood that Shi‘ites carried out such a defamation and could not possibly be censored in their private homes and locales by the Ottomans or any other system of governance for that matter. Taqiyya was also practiced and legitimized when a Shi‘ite jurist faced accusations of heresy by the Ottoman authorities and whose life was in real jeopardy.55 To add but another dimension to the manifestation of taqiyya, Muhammad Amin Astarabadi (d.1036/1626-7), an Iranian Shi‘ite jurist used the term taqiyya to describe how he was censored by his co-religionists, the powerful ‘Amili mujtahids in Iran and prevented from challenging their legal methods.56

The Shi‘ite and Sunnite ‘ulama’ were part of the same discursive Islamic traditions such as jurisprudence, theology, and science formed within and around the madrasas.For instance, during the sixteenth century the ‘Amili jurists were keen on discursing upon Shafi’ite juridical practices in order to find new ways to harmonize and systematize the sources of Shi’ite law.57 It is easy to ignore the inexorable connections between Shi‘ite and Sunnite scholars when relying on anti-Shi‘ite polemics and fatwas.58 Shared experiences of civil life and scholarly activity allowed Shi‘ite scholars agency and some measure of control. To complicate the picture even further, some Sunnite scholars seemed to have been described in Shi‘ite sources as sympathetic to the Shi‘ites or loyal to ahl al-bayt despite belonging to a Sunnite legal school. The example of Abu al-Ma‘ali al-Taluwi (d.1014/1605), a Damascene mufti and poet is noteworthy. Shi‘ite sources note that he believed in the Imamate of ‘Ali b. Abi Talib and that he was a Shi‘ite who nonetheless followed the Hanafi legal school in positive law.59

The ‘Amili ‘ulama’ and the state in the nineteenth century

From the late 1860s on, the Shi‘ite ‘ulama’ of Jabal ‘Amil entered a distinct phase in their relationship to the Ottoman state and Shi‘ite believers.The Ja’fari legal school became licit and Shi’ite scholars received appointments as judges in Beirut (Burj al-Barajina), Sidon, Tyre, Marji’yun, al-Nabatiyya, Ba’labak, and al-Hirmil.60 The scholars received land privately registered in their names in return for clerical and administrative services to the Ottoman state as judges and muftis.61 Ideally, the Shi‘ite mufti was expected to be a mujtahid, that is, a licensed jurist trained in Najaf who mastered legal inference based on the rational procedures of the usuli school of jurisprudence. Yet, several Shi‘ite muftis had expertise in one area of the law and normally consulted a mujtahid when issuing injunctions in other legal areas.The ‘ulama’ enjoyed a degree of juridical autonomy and arbitrated a large number of civil cases in accordance with the Ja‘fari legal school.62 This development aimed to organize on a new basis socio-legal relations between Shi‘ite subjects and the state.63 The judges’ functions were restricted to marriage and divorce, the implementation of dissimulation (taqiyya), inheritance (mawarith), wills (wasaya), and the administration of religious endowments (awqaf) or land possessions for children who are under the legal age (wilayat al-awqaf wa alqasirin). A few ‘ulama’ owned land but most of them relied on community contributions.64 Occasionally they received from Shi’ite believers the tithe of one-fifth (khums), levied on war booty, jewelry, and valuable stones, mined treasure and products, net income, land sold to non-Muslims, and any financial source touched by unlawful dealings.65 Yet, khums was not a reliable or systematic source of support for the ‘ulama’ and their students. Some ‘ulama’ who took up posts in qada’ (judgeship) were able to finance their own schools and rely less on the zu‘ama’s contributions. The Shi‘ite muftis in particular obtained social visibility and became an important link between the locals and the Ottomans. The mufti could receive the kharaj land revenues of seven villages that amounted to a one-hundred dunams (a dunam is ca. 0.227 acres) for each village. Thesewere registered in the personal name of the mufti. For one, Sayyid ‘Ali al-Amin (d. 1910), an ‘Amili jurist, who was appointed mufti, “revived” religious-legal learning in Shaqra’ in 1893 by building the ‘Alawi madrasa believed to have trained 400 students.66

From the mid-nineteenth century onward the Ottomans permitted the performance of ‘Ashura’ as long as Shi‘ites practiced self-censoring and avoided public attack on the first three Caliphs and ‘A’isha, his wife.67 Musa Amin Sharara (d. 1886) reorganized the ‘Ashura funereal councils in harmony with their counterparts in Iraq and held them regularly in Jabal ‘Amil. Ottoman officials expected the Shi‘ite muftis to maintain self-censorship with respect to Sunnite figures during ‘Ashura. Yet, the Ottomans were not consistent in their prohibition of aspects of the ‘Ashura’ ritual. Sometime during the 1880s or the 1890s the Shi‘ite mujtahid Sayyid Hasan b. Yusuf al-Husayni asked the qaim-maqam (district governor) of Sidon, a subdivision of the province of Beirut, to prevent a group of Iranian residents in al-Nabatiyya from holding the Passion Play.The latter known as ta‘ziya and a‘mal al-shabih enacted the events at Karbala’ where Imam Husayn was martyred at the hands of the Umayyad ruler Yazid on the tenth day of the Islamic month of Muharram in 61/680.68 The qaim-maqam, however, could not ban the ceremony because his superior, the vali of Beirut, wanted to fulfill the wishes of an influential group of Iranians in al-Nabatiyya. He permitted the Shi‘ites to hold their religious rituals undeterred. ThePassion Play was performed and not only Iranians participated in it but Arab ‘Amilis as well. Meanwhile, ‘Amili Shi‘ites observed ceremonies marking the birth of the Mahdi and performed hajj (pilgrimage) to the shrines in al-‘Atabat (Najaf, Karbala’, al-Kazimayn, Samarra’) and holy sites in Syria.

The implications of Ottoman legal reform for the ‘Amili ‘ulama’ deserve some attention. A new application of theshari‘a in legal matters was called upon to assist in the empire’s centralizing thrust. The Ottoman reformists sought to reorganize legal administration in ways that placed theshari‘a (Islamic legal principles) in both a synthetic as well as a competitive relationship with European legal codes - that in the long run deprived it of autonomous growth and efficacy.The promulgation of the mejelle was the initial step in the codification of the shari‘a between 1869 and 1876, which involved fitting particular Islamic legal principles to a Western juridical system and turning them into law (especially in penal and commercial fields).69 Though aiming to codify and standardize the state’s relationship to Muslim and non-Muslim subjects, these changes created multiple and overlapping courts with diverse bases for adjudication as was the case with the shari‘a, minorities, and consular courts.70 With the emergence of the Ottoman Ministry of Justice in 1868, the modernizing state wrested from the ‘ulama’ a good part of their administration of the shari‘a. Some ‘ulama’ tied to the empire’s political center and provincial governorates were replaced by a group of legal experts thus losing their teaching posts and institutional base.71 Nonetheless, other ‘ulama’ took part in the process of modifying and rearranging areas of the shari‘a to respond to the state’s modernizing initiatives and hoped to offset European economic and cultural forays. Then it should come as no surprise that several Shi‘ite ‘ulama’ at the time expressed optimism about Ottoman educational and legal reforms.72 Their social base and functions as teachers, judges, and muftis - as several of them attested - were positively altered by these developments. In retrospect, the transition relating to the reforms carried contradictory historical forces. On the onehand the modernizing ‘ulama’, driven by historical forces internal to their societies, adapted to the legal reforms. Yet, over the long term this adaptation undermined theshari‘a , the socio-legal world that gave them public responsibilities and power. A number of ‘Amili ‘ulama’ found justification for legal-cultural “tajdid” (renewal) in the usuli (rationalist) Shi‘ite juridical tradition itself and argued that it was necessary for preserving the religion under changing historical circumstances.73 The term “islah” (reform) underwent change and was approached differently by various intellectuals and sectors of the elite during the late Ottoman and French colonial periods. During the Hamidian era, the reformists had already placed value on cultural “progress” which valorized some experiences of European modernism. But the dominance of Eurocentric concepts of “progress” and intense clashes over “reform” became evident during the French colonial period especially with the formation of the modern nation-state in 1920.74

The ‘ulama’, themadrasas and the Ottoman Public Schools

The ‘Amilis who pursued religious learning in the late Ottoman period were roughly drawn from three social strata. The first stratum included wealthy to self-sufficient families with a long tradition of learning, such as al-Amin, Mughniyya, Nur al-Din, and Sharaf al-Din.75 Many of them were distinguished by their social status as sayyids, descendants from the house of the Prophet.Another stratum of learned ‘Amilis included members of the notables like Al Jabir, Al Safa, and al-Zayn, whose scholarly interests dated to the late Ottoman period.76 In general they acquired mixed training in the religious-legal sciences and “modern disciplines” at the local madrasas and the Ottoman public schools.77 In the last social stratum were students from families with a long tradition of legal-religious learning but of modest economic background like Muruwwa, Sharara, and Sadiq.78 Shaykh Musa Sharara (d. 1886), for instance, was a reputed scholar in Bint Jubayl and founder of a madrasa but he did not own land.79 A number of scholars from these strata moved away from clerical careers toward the end of the Ottoman period. They became philologists, historians, and poets, and expressed enthusiasm for particular features of the Enlightenment.80

Early on young boys were sent to the kuttab schools of Jabal ‘Amil that specialized primarily in teaching the Qur’an and its recital, and incorporated the study of calligraphy, rules of writing, and arithmetic.81 A range of elementary classes in Arabic grammar, reading and writing, mathematics, and logic supplemented the study of the Qur’an. After this stage, students studied at one of the local Shi‘ite madrasas and some attended an Ottoman public school. A brief description of the madrasa here is useful.George Makdisi viewed the madrasa primarily as an institutional, religiously endowed “College of Law,” training students to become jurists.82 The ‘Amili Shi‘ite madrasas placed primary emphasis on the legal-juridical Islamic sciences but they were far from being institutional “Colleges” supported by awqaf that normally guaranteed continuity in financial and scholarly administration.83 The ‘Amili scholars and historians described their schools simply as “madrasas” or “al-madaris al-diniyya” (religious schools) to distinguish them from public Ottoman schools. The urbanity of the Islamic madrasa painted by Makdisi stands in sharp contrast to the ‘Amili madrasa which did not emerge around “the masjid…. and its nearby khan” nor was managed by a bureau but rather by informal and formal networks of family, village, as well as scholarly communities.84 Sayyid Muhsin al-Amin, the ‘Amili marja‘ wrote,

Out of these madrasas emerged a great number of outstanding ‘ulama’ and to them many [students and scholars] migrated from far regions.The Mays madrasa at the time of al-Muhaqqiq al-Shaykh ‘Ali al-Maysi, author of “Al-Maysiyya fi al-fiqh” had numerous talaba (students). From [this madrasa] graduated al-Shahid al-Thani, Zayn al-Din b. ‘Ali al-‘Amili al-Juba‘i and that was in the early tenth century Hijri. These madrasas continued [teaching] in every century due to a succession of great scholars even though they did not have waqf (religious endowment) unlike the case in Syria, Iran, India, Egypt, Iraq and Morocco and other Muslim regions. In theseareas most of the schools had religious endowments that secured the students’ provisions and elicited the desire to seek learning. The madrasas of Jabal ‘Amil lacked this [condition] except rarely …and they [the madrasas] appeared and disappeared with the appearance and disappearance of [individual] teachers or those who took their place after their death.85

The characteristics of the madrasas of Jabal ‘Amil reveal the limitations of overarching and formulaic depictions of the Islamic madrasa. In comparison to Makdisi, Michael Chamberlain emphasized the state’s sociopolitical manipulation of the madrasas in as far as theywere established through religious endowments. He counterbalanced Makdisi’s emphasis on the charitable and scholarly dimensions of the madrasas.86 The ‘Amili madrasas, however, were not amenable to state politics even if they witnessed scholarly competition and cross-regional rivalries. The autonomous scholarly impetus for founding these madrasas was evident in thepride which their founders derived from them and the thrust to keep the madrasas’ intellectual traditions alive. The local maintenance of a tradition of learning despite the lack of an institutional base draws our attention to diverse functions and dimensions of Islamic learning. Influential leaders extended at times financial support for the Shi’ite madrasas. A number of ‘ulama’ families also funded their own schools such as the Khatunfamily which was a large landholder especially in the village of Juwayya.87

The ‘Amili madrasas were free under the late Ottomans to teach the religious-legal sciences pertaining to Twelver Shi‘ism. These madrasas taught the following: grammar/philology; morphology; and rhetoric (including the art of metaphors); logic; and Islamic theology.The latter covered the foundations of religion - the belief in unity and divine justice, the necessity for prophets in human society, the continuation of divine guidance through the infallible Shi’ite Imams, and the belief in resurrection on the day of judgment.88 The madrasas also taught rational theology, metaphysics, jurisprudence, law, Qur’anic exegesis, arithmetic, history and literary arts.89 Sabrina Mervin discussed the texts which students studied at the madrasas of Jabal ‘Amil before pursuing specialization in law and jurisprudence in Najaf.90 It is difficult, however, to know from the sources all the texts introduced and those eliminated and the particular branches of study expanded at these madrasas during the Hamidian period.

The sources allow us to deduce only the general alterations made at thesemadrasas which we will highlight in the following section.

Educational Modernization and the ‘Amili madrasas

The Tanzimat (re-organization, reform) aimed to encourage the loyalty of religiously and ethnically diverse subjects to the Ottoman Empire, secure a steady flow of tax revenues, as well as withstand European economic and fiscal challenges.91 During the nineteenth century new economic and political conditions led, in conjunction with increased bureaucratic specialization, to alterations in the Ottoman educational system.92 The ‘Amili scholars viewed this phase of educational modernization favorably as a way first, to nurture Ottoman support for Shi‘ite teaching and judgeship and second, to preserve Islamic cultural traditions against European encroachment.

Benjamin Fortna suggested that Ottoman officials, particularly during the reign of Sultan Abdulhamid II (r. 1876-1909), hoped that a new Ottoman school system would revitalize the economy and reverse the elites’ decreasing control over trade exchanges with Western Europe.93 Science and education, one Ottoman official argued, had permitted Europeans to persevere and accumulate wealth.94 Science was imparted at the Ottoman schools with the conviction that it would remedy various socio-economic and political ‘ailments.’ Other factors spurred changes in the late Ottoman school system. In1877-78 the Ottoman government suffered a blatant defeat at the hands of Russia. It was further disheartened by the implementation of the Public Debt Administration (1881) that was supervised by the European powers to ensure the Ottomans’ payment of debts.95 Meanwhile, Ottoman governors and officials in Syria were raising complaints about the activities of European consulates.96 An ‘Amili historian Muhammad Jabir Al Safa noted that respect for Ottoman authority in Syria began to crumble as European consuls used the complaints of the minorities to force Ottoman officials to bow to their commands.97 Subsequently, Al Safa added, high ranking Ottoman officials visited the consulates to apologize and “happy was he who obtained the favor of [European] consuls!”98 Al Safa found these developments objectionable.

Beirut was established in 1888 as an Ottoman province to attend partly to the increased activities of the Great Powers, especially the French, as well as to halt their infringement on Ottoman power through Christian missionary schools.99 In Beirut, 90 percent of the 5,000 students attending well-financed French, British, American, Italian, and German schools were Ottoman subjects and a good number of these were Muslims.100 Possibly, Muslim Ottoman subjects were gaining exposure to anti-Ottoman sentiments, as well as Eurocentric perceptions of Islamic society. Ottoman educational reformists found support among the ‘Amilis who wanted to circumvent the long-term effect of the missionary schools. Ottoman officials hoped also to adapt the efficient, high-level educational mechanisms set in place by minority groups such as the Greeks and Armenians.101

The Ottoman governor of Beirut expressed his alarm at the spread of foreign schools and suggested building Ottoman schools, some following the “old” style of Qur’an schools and others following a “new” elementary school (ibtida’i) system. Yet it was the introduction of the secondary schools (‘i ‘dadi) that helped create an integrated and relatively standardized system of imperial learning. Fortna’s observation that the imperial school of the late Ottoman period offered “a parallel system” to the madrasa and did not replace it seems accurate in the case of Jabal ‘Amil. The ‘Amili ‘ulama’ were involved in both types of schools simultaneously and a number of them cultivated their distinct fields of study.102 For the most part, however, the ‘Amilis avoided the missionary schools.103

The Shi‘ite ‘ulama’ of Najaf in Iraq established the madrasa of al-Kawthariyya in Jabal ‘Amil which functioned until 1842. It was followed by the madrasa ofJuba‘ founded by ‘Abdullah Ni‘ma (d. 1886). Both schools focused on law and jurisprudence producing a host of muftis, philologists, judges, prayer leaders, and teachers.104 Apparently, the tajdid which Ni‘ma envisaged was seen as part and parcel of taqlid (emulation) of the scholarly tradition of al-Shahid al-Thani.105 After this time, Al Safa noted, Ottoman public schools based on “the new pedagogy” emerged. These schools were unknown to the ‘Amilis before the period of Midhat Pasha (1822-83), Syria’s vali governor (appointed 1878) who founded the amiriyya (state) schools, the rushdiyya schools (acting originally as secondary schools) in the centers of the sub-districts, and the i‘dadiyya in the centers of the districts and provinces.‘Amili scholars viewed the state’s new-school pedagogy as a mark of a better era.106 The ‘Amilis could have benefited more from these initiatives if schools were built in Jabal ‘Amil itself because most of them fell in the coastal governmental centers.107 ‘Amili scholars praised Midhat Pasha’s initiatives in preserving Muslim pietistic traditions, encouraging the social-educational autonomy of Syria’s Arab population, and securing endowments for the purpose of religious learning.108 Even though ‘Amili scholars used the terms “new” and “modern” to refer to changes in the methods of teaching, textbooks, and some fields of study, they did not view these changes as a break with the past tradition of Islamic learning.

The madrasa ofJuba‘ in Jabal ‘Amil closed down in 1885 and students were directed to the madrasa of Hanawayh (close to Tyre) founded by Shaykh Muhammad ‘Ali ‘Izz al-Din (died circa 1886).Under his leadership the school tried to “adapt what is beneficial from the modern sciences and modern philosophy” and impart it to students.109 It critiqued the teaching methods at the madrasa of Juba‘ where the students spent years acquiring Arabic grammar at the hands of teachers who could not simplify its obscure points.110 A graduate of this madrasa, Sayyid Muhammad al-Husayni (d. 1908) was described as “one of the makers of an intellectual renaissance” in al-Nabatiyya where he founded a madrasa in 1884 on “modern bases” reflecting some of the educational changes of the Hamidian era.111 Aside from the legal-religious sciences, the madrasa instructed students in history, geography, and the Turkish language. Sayyid Muhammad Ibrahim also expanded the curriculum at this madrasa focusing on literature, poetry, logic, Avicennan philosophy, and natural science.The madrasa further introduced the work of Kitab al-Naqsh fi al-Hajar (The Book of Stone Engraving) by Cornelius Van Dyke (d. 1895), an American medical missionary living in Syria (which included the future Grand Liban).112 His book, Mervin noted, functioned as an introductory text to modern physics and chemistry in addition to psychology.113 It is also possible that the madrasa used the eighth volume of Kitab al-Naqsh on logic. ‘Amili sources note that during the early twentieth century al-Nabatiyya became a scholarly entrepôt for the learned who came from Istanbul, Beirut, and Damascus.114

The madrasa of Bint Jubayl founded by al-Shaykh Musa Sharara (d. 1886) was instrumental in shaping future jurists and producing a host ofschool teachers and writers. At the madrasa, Sharara trained his assistants to provide their students with concise clarifications and succinct explanations of certain textbooks. He aimed to reverse the earlier approach of teaching at the madrasa based on broad lectures providing long and comprehensive elaborations on a text.115 Another school of importance was the Nuriyya madrasa founded in al-Nabatiyya where Sayyid Muhammad ‘Ali Nur al-Din (d. 1907) taught. Among its graduates were Ahmad Rida and Sulayman Zahir, two leading intellectuals with expertise in law, literature, history, and lexicography. In al-Nabatiyya al-Tahta another school emerged in 1891-92, namely, the Hamidiyya madrasa under the headship of Sayyid Hasan Yusuf Makki al-Husayni (d. 1906).116

The Hamidiyya madrasa was the first institutionalized madrasa supported by the Ottoman authorities and funded through the religious endowments of Haydar Jabir, a Shi‘ite benefactor. The madrasa’s founder, al-Husayni, called his school al-Hamidiyya in deference to Sultan Abdulhamid II. It attracted Muslims from both rich and poor backgrounds and synthesized secular fields with legal-religious training.In 1908 free primary (ibtidai) public schools were founded in Jabal ‘Amil.117 Sultan Abdulhamid II’s officials and bureaucrats, as Fortna argued, Ottomanized as well as “Islamized” the schooling system in such a way that in effect it was not the initial French “model” the Tanzimat reformers started with.118 At the ‘Amili madrasas dimensions of the “religious” and the “secular” were reworked in the curriculum and reflected in the academic composition of the teachers. Meanwhile, ‘Amili scholars continued to teach Shi‘ite doctrine, law, and jurisprudence.119 Al Safa explained that the Hamidiyya students, like others in the Empire pursuing Islamic legal and rational sciences, were exempted from serving in the Ottoman army. Scholars commended Ottoman support for Islamic traditions and the protection of religion. Apparently, the exemption from military conscription led to an increase in “fake students” whose only interest in legal-religious studies “was getting rid of arduous military service.”120 Ottoman soldiers checked whether students who registered at these madrasas were attending classes regularly. The soldiers harassed at times the locals and extracted money from them when they found out that a student was faking his enrollment in legal-religious classes.But the willingness of Ottoman officials to take such measures to ensure a central place for the Islamic madrasa in a modernizing society gained the respect of the ‘Amili ‘ulama’. Overall, these developments provided intellectual fervor for ‘Amili students and scholars.

Afterthought

The nineteenth century Ottoman educational reforms particularly during the Hamidian era opened a new public space for the ‘Amili ‘ulama’ as the Twelver Shi‘ites were accorded a sectarian Islamic status and relative juridical autonomy and power. The availability of stipends for students helped draw into the ‘ulama’s ranks students of various economic and social backgrounds.121 The new financial resources and judgeship posts, the “revival” of the legal-religious sciences, and the mixed learning experiences at the madrasa and the public Ottoman school increased the diversity of the learned ‘Amili community and the competition among influential sayyid families.

Following the defeat of the Ottoman Empire at the hand of European powers, the values shaped by European universalism and cultural progress gained inexorable authority in Islamic society.Universalism embodied the objective, permanent, and valid existence of scientific truths.122 Science, separated from philosophical thought, had a prophetic place as the highest revelatory mode of knowledge, as Immanuel Wallerstein argued.123 Despite the assertion made by some nineteenth century ‘Amili reformists that tajdid was an Islamic principle promoting modern change, Western conceptions of ‘modern progress’ forced a new generation of intellectuals to rethink the foundations and boundaries of the larger Islamic tradition. This tradition, predicated on renewal and conservation simultaneouslywas disrupted by increasing secularization and more importantly the rise of the nation-state. A number of ‘Amili students at the local madrasas and Najaf’s seminary discontinued their clerical training after the end of the Ottoman period.124 These students turned to careers in modern poetry, literary criticism, journalism, history, and modern law, as these fields achieved independence from the madrasa and the seminary during the first half of the twentieth century.125

Notes.

* McGill University

1 The size of the region identified as Jabal ‘Amil shifted considerably. The boundaries given above may correspond to the widest range it covered in the pre-modern period. See Muhsin al-Amin, Khitat Jabal ‘Amil (Beirut: Matba‘at al-Insaf), 61- 68; ‘Ali al-Zayn, Li-al-Bahth ‘an Tarikhina (Lebanon: n.p., 1973), 160-1.

2 Stefan Winter noted the shift in the organization and boundaries of the sancaks and eyalets based on Ottoman needs; see Winter, The Shiites of Lebanon under Ottoman Rule, 1516-1788 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 120.

3 Rifa‘at Abou-El-Haj, Formation of the Modern State: The Ottoman Empire, Sixteenth to Eighteenth Centuries (New York: SUNY Press, 1991), 54.

4 Donald Quataert, The Ottoman Empire, 1700-1922 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 62.

5 Benjamin C. Fortna, Imperial Classroom: Islam, the state, and education in the late Ottoman Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 81.

6 Abou-El-Haj, Formation of the Modern State, 53-4, 64-5.

7Ibid., 64-5.

8Ibid., 54.

9 Ibid.

10Ibid., 65-8.

11Ja‘far al-Amin, “Al-Sayyid Ja‘far,” Min Daftar al-Dhikrayat al-Janubiyya, part 2 (Beirut: Dar al-Kitab al-‘Arabi, 1984), 106.

12 Mustafa Bazzi, Jabal ‘Amil wa Tawabi‘uhu fi Shamal Filastin (Beirut: Dar al-Mawasim, 2002), 40-3, 67-8, 82-3.

13 Tarif Khalidi, “Shaykh Ahmad ‘Arif al-Zayn and al-‘Irfan,” in Intellectual Life in the Arab East, 1890-1939, ed., Marwan Buheiry (Beirut: American University of Beirut Press, 1981), 122.

14 AkramJa‘far al-Amin, ed., Ja‘far Muhsin Al-Amin: Sira wa ‘Amiliyyat (Beirut: Al-Farabi, 2004), 125. The state’s share was usually estimated by a village committee appointed by the tax collector who was himself a za‘im presiding over the political affairs of the whole region.

15 Ibid.

16 Khalidi, “Shaykh Ahmad ‘Arif,” 118.

17Ibid., 121.

18 A. al-Amin, ed.,Ja‘far Muhsin, 131.

19Ibid., 122.

20 On the marja‘iyya and Syro-Lebanese Shi‘ites, see Rula Jurdi Abisaab, “Lebanese Shi‘ites and the Marja‘iyya: Polemic in the Late Twentieth Century,” British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 36 (2009): 215-39.

21 Muhsin al-Amin, A‘yan al-Shi‘a, ed. Hasan al-Amin, vol.10 (Beirut: Dar al-Ta‘aruf, 1986), 362.

22 A. al-Amin, ed.,Ja‘far Muhsin, 131.

23Winter , The Shiites of Lebanon, 14, 21-2.

24 For more on the ‘Amili ‘ulama’s support for tabarru’ (dissociation from the enemies of ahl al-bayt), see Rula Jurdi Abisaab, “The ‘ulama of Jabal ‘Amil in Safavid Iran, 1501-1736: Marginality, Migration and Social Change,” Iranian Studies 27 (1994): 103-22; and Converting Persia: Power and Religion in the Safavid Empire (London: I.B.Tauris, 2004), chapter 1.

25 See Winter, The Shiites of Lebanon, 23-4; see also the rihla (travel) narrative of Qutb al-Din Muhammad b. ‘Ala’ al-Din Ahmad al-Nahrawali al-Makki (d. 990/1582) translated and studied by Richard Blackburn: Blackburn, Journey to the Sublime Porte: The Arabic Memoir of a Sharifian Agent’s Diplomatic Mission to the Ottoman Imperial Court in the Era of Suleyman the Magnificent: The relevant text from Qutb al-Din al-Nahrawali’s al-Fawa’id al-saniya fi al-rihla al-madaniya wa-l-rumiya (Beirut: Orient Institut, 2005).

26 Blackburn, Journey to the Sublime Porte, 208-10.

27 ‘Ali b. Muhammad b. al-Hasan b. Zayn al-Din al-‘Amili collected the extant parts of Ibn al-‘Awdi’s account titled, “Bughyat al-Murid fi al-Kashf ‘an Ahwal al-Shahid.” Al-‘Amili noted that a good part of “Bughyat” has been lost, thus “alsaqit minhu kathir;” see ‘Ali b. Muhammad al-‘Amili, Al-Durr al-Manthur min al-Ma’thur wa ghayr al-Ma’thur, vol. 2 (Qum: Matba‘at Mehr, 1978), 149-99.

28 Most of the available literary and travel works do not aim to provide a full record of the appointments of the qadis; see the example of al-Nahrawali’s depiction of qadi Akmal al-Din of the Muflih family in Blackburn, Journey, 60-1, 162f. New Ottoman sources will need to be examined before one is able to know whether the qadi Ma‘ruf is the same Shafi‘ite qadi of Safad, Nur al-Din al-Sahyuni (d. 971/1564). On the latter, see Al-Muhibbi, Khulasat al-Athar fi A‘yan al-Qarn al-Hadi ‘Ashar, vol.3 (Beirut: Dar Sadir, 1970), 25; Najm al-Din al-Ghazzi, Al-Kawakib al-Sa’ira bi-A‘yan al-Mi’a al-‘Ashira, ed. J. S. Jabbur, 3 vols. (Beirut: The American University Press, 1945-59), vol. 3, 207-9, 219. Al-Ghazzi’s biographical work focuses mostly on residents of Damascus. The entry on Ma‘ruf al-Qadi Nur al-Din (or Zayn al-Din) is short and sketchy with no mention of any of his judgeship posts. Abu al-Ma‘ali al-Taluwi mentions one post for Ma‘ruf in Safad; see al-Taluwi, Sanihat Duma al-Qasr fi Mutarahat Bani al-‘Asr, ed. Muhammad Mursi al-Khawli, 2 vols. (Beirut: ‘Alam al-Kutub, 1983), vol. 1, 179-84; vol.2, 226-7.

29 Al-‘Amili, Al-Durr al-Manthur, vol.2, 174. The extant text of “Bughyat al-Murid” states that al-Shahid al-Thani was already ambivalent about leaving Jabal ‘Amil to Istanbul without informing the qadi of Sidon or asking him for an ‘ard. He decided to send Ibn al-‘Awdi, his student, to the qadi: “Arsalani ilayhi li-asuqa ma‘ahu siyaqan yufhamu minhu al-i‘lam bi-al-Safar wa la atlubu minhu ‘ardan” (He sent me to him to mention by passing [through conversation] what can be understood [by him] as a notification about [al-Shahid al-Thani’s] travel without asking him for an ‘ard.” The account of the same incident provided by Devin Stewart carries translation errors. He wrote that al-Shahid al-Thani “had requested that Ibn al-‘Awdī inform the Judge of Sidon, al-Qāđī Ma‘rūf al-Shāmī, that he would not be asking him for an ‘ard.” As the above Arabic sentence shows, al-Shahid al-Thani was careful not to aggravate the situation with the qadi. The qadi, however, insisted on the need for an ‘ard and most likely wrote one which al-Shahid al-Thani discarded or refrained from using when he was in Istanbul; see Stewart, “The Ottoman Execution of Zayn al-Din al-‘Amili,” Die Welt des Islams 48 (2008): 289-347, at 312.

30 Al-‘Amili, Al-Durr al-Manthur, vol. 2, 169.

31Ibid., vol. 2, 175.

32Ibid., vol. 2, 159-63.

33 Al-Shahid al-Thani, Rasa’il al-Shahid al-Thani, vol. 2 (Qum: Maktab al-I‘lam al-Islami, 2000), 875; Ibn al-‘Imad al-Hanbali, Shadharat al-Dhahab fi Akhbarman Dhahab, vol. 8 (Beirut: Dar al-Fikr, 1988), 292-3.

34 That ijithad was a main reason for al-Shahid al-Thani’s execution is highlighted by a few early Safavid chronicles including, Hasan-i Beg Rumlu, Ahsan al-Tavarikh, ed. ‘Abd al-Husayn Nava’i (Tehran: Intisharat-e Babak, 1357H/1938), 520-1.

35 Zayn al-Din al-‘Amili, Munyat al-Murid fi Adab al-Mufid wa al-Mustafid (Qum: Maktab al-I‘lam al-Islami, 1374/1995), 47; ‘Ali al-‘Amili, Al-Durr al-Manthur, vol.2, 182.

36 Blackburn, Journey to the Sublime Porte, 209.

37Ibid., 208-10. Al-Shahid al-Thaniwas cut off from his circle of students and family members after he was captured in Mecca. This can be gleamed from the notes written by al-Sayyid ‘Ali al-Sa’igh on the third volume of the sharh ofShara’i‘ al -Islam which states that al-Shahid al-Thani was captured while in Mecca but adds no further information; see ‘Ali al-‘Amili, Al-Durr al-Manthur, vol. 2, 190.

38 Blackburn, Journey to the Sublime Porte, Arabic MS on CD-Rom, 258.

39 For the corrections made on the date and place of death of al-Shahid al-Thani, see Rida al-Mukhtari’s introduction to Zayn al-Din al-‘Amili, Munyat al-Murid, 9-77; Ja‘far al-Muhajir, Sittat Fuqaha’ Abtal (Beirut: Al-Majlis al-Islami al-Shi‘i al-A‘la, 1994), 161-71, 182-3. Al-Muhajir argued that some elements in the prevalent account on al-Shahid al-Thani’s executionwere invented . Devin Stewart considered the whole account “a fabrication;” “The Ottoman Execution of Zayn al-Din al-‘Amili.” Given the lack of any new substantive information on this question, Stewart’s claims for a full-scale fabrication reveal fallacious reasoning resting largely on the silence of data. The fabricated account, Stewart maintained, was pieced together by a Shi‘ite scholar in Iran from the “truncated version” of “Bughyat al-Murid.” No contemporary scholar has seen the “intact” version of “Bughyat” about which Stewart proclaims it “would certainly have contradicted the resulting account directly.” Such counterfactual arguments were compounded by Stewart’s reliance on the same account of “Bughyat” to derive other information about al-Shahid al-Thani’s life and career to support other arguments; see pp. 300, 312-313,343 .

40 Blackburn, Journey to the Sublime Porte, Arabic MS, 259.

41 See Al-Shahid al-Thani, Rasa’il al-Shahid al-Thani, vol. 2, 869.

42 Al-‘Amili, Al-Durr al-Manthur, vol. 2, 182.

43Ibid., 204.

44 See Blackburn, Journey to the Sublime Porte, Arabic MSCD-Rom , 258.

45Ibid., 259.

46 See Al-‘Amili, Al-Durr al-Manthur, vol. 2, 183.

47 Ibid. Other works which disclosed al-Shahid al-Thani’s ijtihad-based scholarship is Tamhid al-Qawa‘id al-Usuliyya where he derives thefar‘ ( branch of the law) from the asl (root).

48 Wael Hallaq, “Was the Gate of Ijtihad Closed?” in Law and Legal Theory in Classical and Medieval Islam (Ashgate: UK & USA, 1994), 27-29.

49Ibid., 28. Except for a small group of scholars, Shafi‘ites continued to challenge the view that mujtahids have vanished. This may have given al-Shahid al-Thani another reason for claiming to be a Shafi‘ite when he tried to explain his ijtihad activities and faced charges of Shi‘ite heresy in Damascus.

50Winter , The Shiites of Lebanon, 23-4.

51Ibid., 17.

52 Al-Shahid al-Thani, Rasa’il al-Shahid al-Thani, vol. 2, 882-3.

53 See Abu al-Wafa’ al-Halabi b. ‘Umar al-‘Urdi, Ma‘adin al-Dhahab fi al-A‘yan al-Mushariffa bihim Halab, ed. Muhammad al-Tunji (Damascus: Dar al-Mallah li-al- Tiba‘a wa al-Nashr, 1987), 288-9; Husayn b. ‘Abd al-Samad al-‘Amili, “Munazara ma‘a ba‘di ‘ulama’ Halab fi al-Imama,” MS, in Ahmad al-Husayni, Fihrist-i Nuskhahay-i Khatti-yi Kitabkhanay-i ‘Umumi-yi Mar‘ashi, collection 1161 (Qum, 1975).

54 ZaynabIsma‘il , “Min al-Najaf ila Shaqra’ Tariq Shi‘r wa Thaqafa wa Din: kayfa kana al-intiqal wa al-‘awda min al-hawza al-diniyya ila al-hawza al-mariksiyya?”Al-Safir, October 29, 2004, 2. The observations in this essayare based on ‘Abdullah al-Amin’s statements.

55 On taqiyya see al-Kulayni, Usul al-Kafi vol. 2 (Tehran: al-Maktaba al-Islamiyya, 1388H/1968), 174-5; Hossein Boroujerdi,Jami‘ Ahadith al-Shi‘a, vol. 18 (Qum: Al-Matba‘a al-‘Ilmiyya, 1995), 371-2. Sunnite support for dissimulation is also manifest in several sources; see Abu Bakr al-Jassas al-Hanafi, Ahkam al-Qur’an, vol. 2 (Beirut: Dar Ihya’ al-Turath, 1992), 289; al-Sarakhsi, Al-Mabsut, vol.24 (Cairo, 1906-1912), 45-6. Winter draws attention to the shifting context and features of taqiyya during the Ottoman period; seeWinter , The Shiites of Lebanon, 25-6.

56 Muhammad Amin Astarabadi, Al-Fawa’id al-Madaniyya (wa bi-dhaylihi Al-Shawahid al-Makiyya by Nur al-Din al-Musawi al-‘Amili) (Qum: Mu’assassat al-Nashr al-Islami, 2005), 573.

57 This was facilitated by the similarities between theJa‘fari and Shafi‘ite legal schools; see Husayn b. Shihab al-Din al-Karaki, Hidayat al-Abrar ila Tariq al-A’imma al-Athar, ed. Ra’uf Jamal al-Din (Baghdad: Al-Maktaba al-Wataniyya 1977), 152-3.

58Winter , The Shiites of Lebanon, 18.

59 M. al-Amin, A‘yan al-Shi‘a, vol.6, 397-400; Ja‘far al-Subhani and al-Lajna al-‘Ilmiyya fi Mu’assassat al-Imam al-Sadiq, Mawsu‘at Tabaqat al-Fuqaha’, 12 vols.

(Beirut: Dar al-Adwa’, 1999-2000), vol. 11, 107; see also al-Taluwi’s depiction of Hasan, son of al-Shahid al-Thani in Sanihat Duma al-Qasr, vol. 2, 87.

60 Isma‘il, “Min al-Najaf ila Shaqra’,” 2; ‘Ali Hijazi, “Sha‘ir al-Tahhaddi, al-Shaykh ‘Ali Mahdi Shams al-Din,” in Wujuh Thaqafiyya min al-Janub, part 2 (Beirut: Al-Majlis al-Thaqafi li-Lubnan al-Janubi, 1984), 41.

61 Bazzi, Jabal ‘Amil wa Tawabi‘uhu, 216-21.

62Isma‘il , “Min al-Najaf ila Shaqra’,” 2.

63 Ibid.

64 Khalidi, “Shaykh Ahmad,” 120.

65 Najm al-DinJa‘far al-Hilli known as al-Muhaqqiq al-Awwal (d. 676/1277),

Shara’i‘ al -Islam fi Masa’il al-Halal wa al-Haram (Beirut: Dar al-Adwa’, 1969), 179-84.

66Isma‘il , “Min al-Najaf ila Shaqra’,” 2; see also Sabrina Mervin, Harakat al-Islah al-Shi‘i, trans. Haytham al-Amin [from Un re´formisme chiite: Ule´mas et lettres du Gabal ‘Amil (actuel Liban-Sud) de la fin de l’Empire ottoman a‘l’inde´pendence du Liban (Paris/Beirut/Damascus: Karthala/CERMOC/IFEAD, 2000)], 108-10.

67 See Muhammad Jabir Al Safa, Tarikh Jabal ‘Amil (Beirut: Dar al-Nahar, 1992),

245-6.

68 Muhsin al-Amin, Khitat Jabal ‘Amil, 146.

69 There are diverse positions on the question of Islamic legal reform in the Ottoman Empire; see Ruth Miller, Legislating Authority: Sin and Crime in the Ottoman Empire and Turkey (New York: Routledge, 2005). This work considered the resistance to modern reforms in the Ottoman Empire an expression of customary and conservative attitudes. Wael Hallaq deconstructs the notion of “reform” arguing that pre-modern Islamic institutions provided a multifaceted legal culture and a fluid medium of social negotiation; see Hallaq, “Can the Shari‘a be Restored?” Islamic Law and the Challenges to Modernity, eds. Yvonne Y. Haddad and Barbara F. Stowasser (Walnut Creek: Altamira Press, 2004), 21-53; “What is Shari‘a?” in Yearbook of Islamic and Middle Eastern Law, Centre of Islamic and Middle Eastern Law at the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, vol. 12 (2005-06): 151-80. Among the studies that support Hallaq’s arguments is Boğaç A. Ergene, Local Court, Provincial Society and Justice in the Ottoman Empire: Legal Practice and Dispute Resolution in Çankırı and Kastamonu (1652- 1744) (Leiden: Brill, 2003).

70 On the structural legal changes brought by the Tanzimat, see Jun Akiba, “From Kadi to Naib: Reorganization of the Ottoman Sharia Judiciary in the Tanzimat Period,” in Frontiers of Ottoman Studies: State, province and the West, eds. Colin Imber and Keiko Kiyotaki (London: I.B. Tauris, 2005), 43-60.

71 Wael Hallaq, “Can the Shari‘a be Restored?”21-24.

72 Compare the picture in Jabal ‘Amil to the one provided by Selçuk Akşin Somel in The Modernization of Public Education in the Ottoman Empire, 1839-1908 (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 4-5, 12-13. Somel argued that the students in Anatoliawere disappointed by the failure to achieve a synthesis between modernization and Islam during the Hamidian period. The students saw the “ilmiyye-class” of religious scholars as antithetical to a modern curriculum.

73 See Sabrina Mervin, Harakat al-Islah al-Shi‘i , 133-5. Mervin threw light on the changing use of the term “islah” (reform). On locating “islah” within the Islamic Tradition see Samira Haj, Reconfiguring Islamic Tradition: Reform, Rationality, and Modernity (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2009).

74 See ‘Ali al-Zayn, “Bawadir al-Islah fi al-Najaf aw Nahdat Kashif al-Ghita’,” Al-‘Irfan 29 (1939): 181-3; Shaykh ‘Abd al-Husayn Sadiq, Sima’ al-Sulaha’ (Sidon: Matba‘at al-‘Irfan, 1927); Muhsin al-Amin, “Thawrat al-Tanzih: ‘Risalat al-Tanzih’ taliha mawaqif min wa ara’ fi al-Sayyid Muhsin al-Amin,” ed. Muhammad al-Qasim al-Husayni al-Najafi (Beirut: Dar al-Jadid, n.d.).

75 See al-Amin, A‘yan al-Shi‘a, vol. 10, 333-446.A number of the sayyids of Al Ibrahim from ‘Aynatha were propertied clerics; see Mustafa Bazzi, Jabal ‘Amil, 230, 269. On Habib Al Ibrahim see al-Amin, A‘yan al-Shi‘a, vol. 9, 444; Kazim ‘Abbud al-Fatlawi, Al-Muntakhab min A‘lam al-Fikr wa al-Adab (Beirut: Mu’assassat al-Mawahib li-al-Tiba‘a wa al-Nashr, 1999), 96-7. On ‘Abd al-Husayn Nur al-Din, seeA‘yan al-Shi‘a, vol. 7, 445; Hasan al-Sadr, Takmilat Amal al-Amil (Qum: Matba‘at al-Khayyam, 1985), 256. For more on the economic standing of al-Amin family and its scholars, see Mustafa Bazzi, Jabal ‘Amil, 216-21.

76 Al Safa, Tarikh, 170.

77 A few madrasas for religious-legal study emerged in Ba‘labak-al-Hirmil during this period. One of the last madrasas closed down after the death of its founder, Shaykh Husayn Zughayb in 1877. Legal studywas also pursued at Sufi zawiyas (orders) in Ba‘labak; see Fu’ad Khalil, Al-Harafisha: Imarat al-Musawama, 1530-1850 (Beirut: Dar al-Farabi, 1996), 110-12.

78 There were several large landholders of the Muruwwa (pronounced and written as Muroeh) family in al-Zurariyya but the main ‘ulama’ of the Muruwwa family at the time were not among them; see Mustafa Bazzi, Jabal ‘Amil, 275. Students from the ‘Abdullah and al-Faqih families ranged in terms of their economic status and social standing.

79 Bazzi, Jabal ‘Amil, 212-13.

80 See M. al-Amin, A‘yan al-Shi‘a, vol. 10, 333-446.

81 Jihad al-Zayn, “Min Dhikrayat al-Shaykh ‘Ali al-Zayn,” Min Daftar al-Dhikrayat al-Janubiyya (Beirut: Dar al-Kitab al-Lubnani, 1981), 26.

82 George Makdisi,The Rise of Colleges: Institutions of Learning in Islam and the West (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1981), 1-3, 9. A number of studies have questioned Makdisi’s argument that science and philosophywere not guaranteed a serious place in the madrasa and were rather “ancillaries.” See Sally Ragep, “The Teaching of the Ancient Sciences in Medieval Islamic Societies: Marginal or Mainstream?” Unpublished Paper,Winter 2008, pp. 1-30; Ehsan Fazlioglu, “The Samarqand Mathematical-Astronomical School: A Basis for Ottoman Philosophy and Science,” Journal for the History of Arabic Science 14 (2008): 3-68. Several Persian madrasas of the early sixteenth century did not seem to separate between the Islamic sciences and the so-called “foreign sciences,” particularly mathematics, astronomy, and philosophy. The study of the “foreign sciences” did not “fade away” after the twelfth century; see Ghiyath al-Din al-Husayni, known as Khwandamir, Habib al-Siyar fi Akhbar Afrad al-Bashar, 4 volumes (n.p ., n.d.). On the madrasas of Shiraz during the early sixteenth century, see Reza Pourjavady, “A Shi‘i theologian and Philosopher of Early Safavid Iran: Najm al-Din Haji Mahmud al-Nayrizi and his Writings,” Ph.D. diss. (Free University of Berlin, 2008).

83 The ‘Amili madrasas did not have the same structure or range of posts which Makdisi described in connection to Shafi‘ite madrasas such as al-Shamiyya and al-‘Imadiyya; see Makdisi, The Rise of Colleges, 163-5.

84Ibid., 27-8.

85 M. al-Amin, Khitat Jabal ‘Amil, 182.

86 Michael Chamberlain, Knowledge and social practice in medieval Damascus, 1190-1350 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 51-4.

87 Bazzi, Jabal ‘Amil, 198-199.Shaykh Yusuf b. Muhammad ‘Ali Khatun for instance owned around one third of the 19 houses in the village of ‘Aydib.

88 M. al-Amin, Khitat Jabal ‘Amil, 186.

89Ibid., 186, 188.

90 Mervin, Harakat al-Islah, 92-7.

91 Ussama Makdisi, “After 1860: Debating Religion, Reform and Nationalism in the Ottoman Empire,” Internationa Journal of Middle East Studies 34 (2002): 601-2;

see also Eric Hobsbawm, The Age of Empire, 1875-1914 (London: Vintage Books, 1987), 284.

92 Fortna, Imperial Classroom, 81.

93Ibid., 82.

94 Ibid.

95Ibid., 29.

96 Fortna, Imperial Classroom, 52-4.

97 Muhammad Jabir Al Safa, Tarikh Jabal ‘Amil (Beirut: Dar al-Nahar, 1992), 178.

98 Ibid.

99Ibid., 50-1, f. 9. Beirut incorporated Latakia, Tripoli, Acre, and Nablus. In 1888,

Tyre, a major city in Jabal ‘Amil, became a kaza (subdistrict) of the province of Beirut after being previously part of Damascus.

100 Fortna, Imperial Classroom, 52-4.

101 Al Safa, Tarikh Jabal ‘Amil, 71-3.

102 Fortna, Imperial Classroom, 72-3.

103 Mervin, Harakat al-Islah, 192-3.

104 See Nawal Fayyad, Safahat min Tarikh Jabal ‘Amil fi al-‘Ahdayn al-‘Uthmani wa al-Faransi (Beirut: Dar al-Jadid, 1998), 40.

105 On Ni‘ma, see Mervin, Harakat al-Islah, 175.

106 Fortna, Imperial Classroom, 72; Somel,The Modernization of Public Education, 65.

107 The subdistrict (kaza or qada’) was the smallest administrative unit, which may have included a city and villages in its vicinity. It was governed by a qaim-maqam andits affairs were managed by a judge .

108 Al Safa, Tarikh Jabal ‘Amil, 171-2; Hani Farhat, Al-Thulathi al-‘Amili fi ‘Asr al-Nahda (Beirut: Al-Dar al-‘Alamiyya li-al-Tiba‘a wa al-Nashr wa al-Tawzi‘,

1981), 31.

109 Fayyad, Safahat min Tarikh, 40-1.

110 Mervin, Harakat al-Islah, 175.

111 Al Safa, Tarikh, 245.

112Ibid., 250.

113 Mervin, Harakat al-Islah, 169.

114Ibid., 249-52. The school was considered an important catalyst for proto-nationalist Arab thought; seeJa‘far al-Amin, “Al-Sayyid Ja‘far al-Amin,” Min Daftar, part 2, 103-4; Farhat, Al-Thulathi al-‘Amili, 29-30.

115 Al Safa, Tarikh, 245-6.

116Ibid., 251-3; Fayyad, Safahat, 41-2.

117 Al Safa, Tarikh, 168.

118 Fortna, Imperial Classroom, 9-11.

119 Farhat, Al-Thulathi, 115; see Khalil, Al-Harafisha, 127.

120 Al Safa, Tarikh, 255-6.

121Ibid., 249-253.

122 J. M., “Siyar al-‘Ilm fi al-Najaf,” Al-‘Irfan 21 (1931): 498-9; Immanuel Wallerstein, “Eurocentrism and its Avatars: The Dilemmas of Social Science,” New Left Review 26/1 (November - December 1997): 96.

123 Wallerstein, “Eurocentrism,” 96, 106.

124 Rula Jurdi Abisaab, “From the Shi‘ite hawza (seminary) to Marxism: ‘Amili Interpretations of anti-Colonial Modernism, 1920-1950,” paper presented at the Middle East Studies Association annual meeting in Boston, 2006.

125 See, Al Safa, Tarikh, 244; Musa al-Zayn Sharara, “Min Dhikrayat al-Sha‘ir Musa al-Zayn Sharara,” in Min Daftar al-Dhikrayat al-Janubiyya, Al-Majlis al-Thaqafi li-Lubnan al-Janubi (Beirut: Dar al-Kitab al-Lubnani, 1981), 75; Mustafa Bazzi, Muhammad Sharara: al-adib wa al-insan (Lebanon: Hay’at Inma’ al-Mintaqa al-Hududiyya, 1994), 11-12, 16-17, 26.

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