Alhassanain(p) Network for Heritage and Islamic Thought

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A Short History of ‘Causation’

Menno Hulswit

University of Nijmegen, The Netherlands

www.alhassanain.org/english

A Short History of ‘Causation’[1]

Menno Hulswit

University of Nijmegen

P.O. Box 9102

6500 HC, Nijmegen, The Netherlands

mennoh@sci.kun.nl

Notice:

This version is published on behalf of www.alhassanain.org/english

The composing errors are not corrected.

Table of Contents

ABSTRACT 6

1. CAUSATION IN ANCIENT GREECE 7

1.1. Aristotle: four types of explanation 8

1.2. The Stoics: causation, exceptionless regularity, and necessity 10

2. CAUSATION IN THE MIDDLE AGES 11

2.1. Thomas Aquinas 12

3. CAUSATION IN MODERN PHILOSOPHY 14

3.1. THE METAPHYSICAL SYSTEMS FROM DESCARTES TILL LEIBNIZZ 15

3.1.1. Descartes: dismissal of substantial forms 16

3.1.2. Hobbes: causation and motion 18

3.1.3. Spinoza: causation is logical necessitation 19

3.1.4. Leibniz: sufficient reason and the denial of intra-substantial causality 20

3.2. CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY FROM LOCKE TILL MILL 22

3.2.1. Locke: causation and power 23

3.2.2. Newton: rejection of the principle of causality 24

3.2.3. David Hume: Causation and Regularity 26

3.2.4. Kant: causation as an a priori conception 28

3.2.5. John Stuart Mill: causes and causal circumstances 31

4. CONCLUSION: IMPORTANT CHANGES IN THE MEANING OF CAUSE 33

References 36

NOTES 39

ABSTRACT

Philosophical theories are always answers to questions raised within certain historical contexts, which involve the common presuppositions of an era. A thorough insight into a particular philosophical problem therefore requires a historical perspective. Thus, in order to better understand the contemporary approaches to the complex issue of causation, and the problems they raise, it is necessary to have a clear insight into the historical evolution of the concept of cause.

In this article, I will show that the development of the history of the concept of cause reveals a remarkable discrepancy between the constancy in the use of terminology and the gradual shift in the meaning of the terms used. This development - which has largely remained unnoticed - requires analysis, if only because most contemporary discussions on the subject, which almost invariably stand in the tradition of Hume, seem to have been victimized by it. For, contrary to what is generally supposed, causation is not a univocal conception (which either can or cannot be further analyzed). It is an ambiguous conception, with at least two (or three) different meanings, each of which requires a critical analysis on its own. Hume's celebrated criticism concerns only one of these senses of cause, which is notably just a derivative sense.

The objective of this article is to discuss some important historical moments in the evolution of the concept of cause, and, more specifically, to discuss the conceptual tensions that are inherent to this historical development. I will focus my attention upon the conception of cause in, successively, Ancient Greek Philosophy (Aristotle and the Stoics), the Middle Ages (Aquinas), and the Modern period (Descartes, Hobbes, Leibniz, Locke, Newton, Hume, Kant, and Mill).

1. CAUSATION IN ANCIENT GREECE

Though the concept of causation has emerged in Pre-Socratic philosophy, it was probably Plato who first stated the principle of causality: "everything that becomes or changes must do so owing to some cause; for nothing can come to be without a cause" (Timaeus 28a). But Plato emphasized the causal importance of formal causes. Nothing can be unless there be a changeless pattern of formal causes of which the individual sensible phenomenon is a mere appearance. However, since Aristotle was the first philosopher to give an extensive account of causes, I will start my discussion with his theory.

1.1. Aristotle: four types of explanation

The most important passages where Aristotle discussed his theory of ‘causation’ are to be found in his Posterior Analytics, his Physics, and his Metaphysics. The context always concerns both a certain being and the conditions of knowledge of that being. Thus, Aristotle said, for example, in his Posterior Analytics (I.2, 71b9-12) that knowing a thing involves knowing its aitiai.

Aristotle stated that, in reference to any singular entity, the question ‘What is this?’ could be answered in four different ways, each of which corresponded to what he called a ‘cause’ in the sense of ‘something without which the thing would not be’ (aitia). Thus, given a marble statue, the question ‘What is this?’ could correctly be answered in one of the following ways: ‘This is marble’, ‘This is what was made by Phydias’, ‘This is something to be put in the temple of Apollo’ and ‘This is Apollo.’ These answers are the answers to four different questions, respectively: ‘What is this made of’, ‘Who is this made by?’ ‘What is this made for?’ and ‘What is it that makes this what it is and not something else?’ The answers have come to be known as, again respectively, the material cause, the efficient cause, the final cause and the formal cause. Though a complete answer to the original question would encompass those four different answers, and therefore the four different causes, Aristotle argued that the most important and decisive cause was the formal cause (Physics II.3,194b23-195a3).

Only the efficient aitia has features we now associate with the idea of causation. Aristotle conceived efficient causes as 'things responsible' in the sense that an efficient cause is a thing that by its activity brings about an effect in another thing. Thus, the efficient cause was defined by reference to some substance performing a change: it is the "primary source of the change" (Metaph. V.4, 1014b18-20). That which is produced is either some new substance, such as ashes from wood, or simply a change in some property of a given substance.

Efficient causation involves a form being transmitted from the efficient cause to the effect. Thus, for example, the efficient cause of the statue is the form in the mind of the sculptor (Metaph. VII.7, 1032a11-1032b23). The form of the statue (effect), which is the same qua form in his mind, comes about from him by means of the motion he originates (Generation of Animals I, 21-22).

It is a matter of dispute whether Aristotle also defended the modern idea that efficient causes necessitate their effects. There is evidence that he associated explanation by efficient cause not simply with what happens always and necessarily, but with what happens for the most part. Indeed, given a certain man, he must have a father, but given a man, there is nothing that determines him to be a father. In other words, Aristotle defended the view that, given a certain effect, there must be some factors that brought about that effect. But he nowhere inferred from this that given certain conditions, some effect necessarily follows.[2]

However, it would appear that there is another kind of necessity involved in the efficient cause. Efficient causation presupposes that in some way a form is transmitted, and it is precisely this form which is some kind of boundary condition; it determines that a particular substance can behave in such-and-such a way, but not in another way; the form of man, for example, does not determine what a particular man will do, but it determines that he cannot, for example, fly as a bird.

1.2. The Stoics: causation, exceptionless regularity, and necessity

The Stoic cosmos is an organism imbued with divine reason (logos), and its entire development is providentially ordained by fate. The Stoics were the first philosophers to systematically maintain the idea that every event is necessitated by certain causal conditions. This so-called principle of causality has come to dominate our whole western outlook up to the present time.

Thus, one of the main innovations of the Stoics was that the idea of cause is linked both to an exceptionless regularity and to necessity. The Stoics strictly held to the view that each event has a cause. They rejected the idea that there could be any uncaused events, because that would undermine their basic belief in the coherence of the universe (e.g. Cicero, De Fato, 43). They held, moreover, that each particular event necessitates its effect. According to Alexander, for example, it is necessary that the same effect will recur in the same circumstances, and it is not possible that it be otherwise. Given the same cause and circumstances surrounding the cause (periestekota), the same effect could not fail to occur (many Stoics expected that in future times, an exact repetition of circumstances was going to occur) (Sorabji 1980, 64-9).

The Stoic principle of universal causation - which entails that 'chance' and 'possibility' only refer to our ignorance of the causal connections between events (Long 1996, 164) - is very well expressed in the following passage by an unknown Stoic author:

Prior events are causes of those following them, and in this manner all things are bound together with one another, and thus nothing happens in the world such that something else is not entirely a consequence of it and attached to it as cause. [...] From everything that happens something else follows depending on it by necessity as cause. (Quoted in Long 1996, 164)

Though this passage could very well have been written by a contemporary philosopher, there is an important difference with the modern conception of cause: contrary to the modern conception, the necessity involved in the causal relation does not pertain to types of events, but only to the relation between particular causes and particular effects (Sorabji 1980, 64-69).

2. CAUSATION IN THE MIDDLE AGES

In the thirteenth century, most Christian philosophers tried to reconcile Aristotle's philosophy with the Christian idea that God created the world out of nothing. As a consequence, Aristotle's ‘unmoved mover’ was transformed into a ‘creating cause of existence’ (Gilson 1962). More generally, the Liber de Causis - a Neo-Platonic Arabic work of the ninth century, translated into Latin in the twelfth century - had a decisive influence on the concept of cause. In accordance with the view exposed in that book, most thirteenth century philosophers,[3] contrary to Aristotle, distinguished two quite different sorts of efficient cause: causa prima and causa secunda. The first type of efficient cause is the originative source of being. The second type of efficient cause is to be found only in created things, and refers to the origin of the beginning of motion or change. The First Cause works in all secondary causes, which may be considered as instrumental causes subservient to the first.

This conception of the primary efficient cause involves a radical switch in respect of the Aristotelian notion of efficient causality. Whereas in Aristotle, efficient causation was the origin of a change or a motion by means of the transmission of form, in medieval philosophy, primary efficient causality concerns the creation of both matter and form.

In this article, however, I will restrict myself primarily to the concept of secondary efficient causality, and in this section, to the view of Thomas Aquinas (1224/5-74), who may be regarded as one of the most influential representatives of later medieval philosophy.

2.1. Thomas Aquinas

In the Summa Theologiae (Ia 2,3), Aquinas formulated five ways of arguing for the existence of God. His fifth way concludes from the observation of finality within natural bodies that there must be some intelligent being, God, by which all natural things are ordered to their end. Like Aristotle, Aquinas distinguished between internal and external final cause. Whereas all natural things have internal final causes themselves, created by God, the ultimate external goal is God himself. For, while the primary goal of created things is self-realization, this striving toward self-realization coincides with the striving toward the ultimate goal, which is God. In the formation of the world, but also in all created causality, final causality comes first and works in and through the efficient causes. The efficient causes are subordinate to the final causes inasmuch as they are means to ends (SCG II: 42.5).

The (secondary) efficient cause is that which induces some form in natural things. Thus, fire may communicate its form (fire) to something else, and the form of the house that exists in the builder's mind, may cause a real house. Particular agents necessarily require pre-existing matter from which to produce their effects by bestowing a form upon it (SCG II: 16.7).

In natural things, the necessity is derived from the form of the things. Thus, given the efficient cause, "the natural thing necessarily tends to its end in accordance with the power of its form." This necessity is absolute inasmuch as the way toward the end state is completely determined by the form and the other causal circumstances ("every agent which acts by natural necessity is determined to one effect"). It is interesting to see that, with Aristotle, Aquinas mentioned 'gravity' as an example of final or formal causality (SCG II: 30.15), and not as an instance of efficient causality, as has been commonly supposed since the rejection of final causation in the modern period.

Whereas Aquinas held that all inanimate things behave according to natural necessity, he made a distinction between two kinds of efficient cause, which, in modern terminology, might be called 'loose causes' and 'tight causes.' Whereas tight causes necessitate their effects independently of any other causal circumstances, loose causes require that other conditions be fulfilled (cf Collingwood [1938] 1991, 153).

Thus, in some cases (‘tight causes’) necessary connection is associated with the efficient cause as such; "the sun's motion, for example, necessarily gives rise to changes in terrestrial bodies" (SCG II: 29.18) and is therefore absolute necessity. In other cases (‘loose causes’) it is relative to both the agent and the patient; "if fire is hot, it necessarily has the power of heating, yet it need not heat, for something extrinsic may prevent it" (SCG II: 30.12).

However, given both the agent and the patient, the necessity is just as absolute as in those cases in which the efficient cause itself is a sufficient cause. Aquinas therefore concluded that all inanimate things are characterized by natural necessity: "For, as nature is, so is its action; hence, given the existence of the cause, the effect must necessarily follow" (SCG II: 35.4). Whereas man is endowed with free will, "inanimate things, plants, and brute animals" behave according to natural necessity (SCG II: 47.3), which is responsible for the uniform behavior of natural things: “... the power of every agent which acts by natural necessity is determined to one effect; that is why all natural things happen in the same way, unless there be an obstacle; while voluntary things do not” (SCG II: 23.2).

By saying that "all natural things happen in the same way," Aquinas meant that things belonging to the same type act similarly in similar causal circumstances. By thus relating efficient causality to natural necessity, and natural necessity to law-like behavior, Aquinas would have a major impact on the development of the modern conception of causality.[4]

3. CAUSATION IN MODERN PHILOSOPHY

In the seventeenth century a movement of thought arose that has come to be known as modern science. This evolution involved a radical change in the development of the concept of cause. Explanations by formal causation and final causation were rejected; the only valid explanations were explanations by efficient causation. Moreover, the concept of efficient causation itself had radically changed. More specifically, in the seventeenth century the idea took root that (a) all causation refers exclusively to locomotion, (b) that causation entails determinism, and (c) that efficient causes were just the inactive nodes in the chain of events, rather than the active originators of a change. These changes have had a lasting influence on the evolution of our conception of cause, and indeed our entire Western outlook.

The history of the development of this outlook is extraordinarily complex, and was influenced by a web of both theological and scientific beliefs. However, the idea that causation involves determinism does not have a scientific origin, but a theological one. In spite of differences in detail, the arguments for determinism in the writings of Descartes, Hobbes, Spinoza and Leibniz, are very similar. In no case did the conclusion that all things are determined receive its justification from a concern with empirical fact. The idea was that all things are causally determined because, and only because, determinism is entailed in the idea of God's omnipotence and omniscience. If God knows everything and can do everything, whatever is must be. For the same reason, it is misleading to say that any finite agent is a genuine cause, that is to say, an active initiator of a change. Only God can be the cause of anything.

This straightforward determinism had important consequences for the development of the diverse conceptions of causation in the seventeenth century. In this section I will first discuss the rationalist conceptions of causation of Descartes, Hobbes, Spinoza, and Leibniz - some of the most important seventeenth century metaphysicians. Next, I will discuss the views of the empiricist approaches of Locke, Newton, Hume, Kant and Mill.

3.1. THE METAPHYSICAL SYSTEMS FROM DESCARTES TILL LEIBNIZZ

3.1.1. Descartes: dismissal of substantial forms

The ‘founding father of modern philosophy,’ who said to break with the tradition by starting completely anew, did not doubt the principle of causation. However, his interpretation of efficient causes as mechanical causes was an important new development. His mechanistic worldview involved that the principles of nature were identical to the principles of mechanics.

It seems appropriate to say that the primary aim of Descartes’ natural philosophy was the dismissal of the scholastic doctrine of active qualities and substantial forms as causal factors in natural processes, and their replacement by purely mechanical principles of explanation. The idea of substantial forms and active qualities as causal factors has no basis whatever in our experience of things:

Let another, if he likes, imagine in this piece of wood the Form of fire, the Quality of heat, and the Action which burns it as things altogether diverse; for my part I, who fear I shall go astray if I suppose there to be more in it than I see must needs be there, am content to conceive in it the movement of its parts. (Descartes, quoted in Miles 1988, 100)

By thus raising a few simple questions about the example of a piece of wood being burned, Descartes laid open what is perhaps the most important problem with any theory of causation based upon a substance ontology: how can a substantial form be transmitted from a cause to its effect?

The rejection of the fourfold causality of Aristotle and the Scholastics by Descartes (and Galilei and Bacon) had a profound influence on subsequent thinkers. Whereas he endorsed matter, and in this particular sense may be said to have subscribed to material causality, he rejected the idea of substantial forms or formal causality. And though he did not deny the existence of final causes - which he identified as God's intentions - he denied the usefulness of such a search. In order to explain nature, we need only examine the efficient causes of things (Descartes [1644] 1983, I: 28). Thus, in effect, there was only one type of cause for Descartes: the efficient cause.

However, Descartes endorsed two very different concepts of efficient causality. There are particular causes and there is one general cause. Descartes attributed to God the status of a general cause, which insures the constancy of quantity of motion in the universe ([1644] 1983, II: 36). Interestingly, the particular causes are not the motions of the individual parts of matter, but the general principles or laws of nature ([1644] 1983, II: 37). In the beginning, God created matter and motion, and he conserves exactly the same quantity of motion for all time. God is the efficient cause of any change of motion in an otherwise inert matter. And He does so according to the laws of nature, which became secondary causes. Thus, Descartes attributed some efficient causality to the laws of motion, which determine all particular effects. By doing so they provide causal, mechanical explanations. The only 'active initiator of change' that remained was the cause of all causes: God.

Descartes’ theory entailed a radical change in the concept of cause: by thus identifying efficient causes with deterministic laws, causes were no longer conceived as particulars, but as types. Moreover, they were no longer identified as the 'active initiators of a change,' but, instead, as some inactive instruments of God.[5] This change had a tremendous impact upon the scientific view of the world.

3.1.2. Hobbes: causation and motion

Like Descartes, the English philosopher Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679) presupposed causal determinism, rejected formal and final causation, and thought that causation was only relevant to motion. He explained all phenomena, even psychological and sociological ones, in terms of causal relations between moving bodies.

However, not the bodies but the accidents of bodies are the causal elements. Hobbes defined a(n) (efficient) cause as "the aggregate of accidents in the agent or agents, requisite for the production of the effect" (Hobbes [1655] 1839, 9.4). And he defined an effect as "that accident, which is generated in the patient" ([1655] 1839, 9.1). But, given that the accidents themselves are motions of parts of the body that is changed, causation consists, ultimately, in motion ([1655] 1839, 9.3; 9.9). Thus, the causal relata are not particular bodies or substances, but their motions; causation is a relation between the motions of different bodies. Nothing would happen if nothing moved, and the only things that move are bodies. Moreover, all causation occurs by contact, that is to say, it consists in motion of contiguous bodies ([1655] 1839, 9.7). There is no action at a distance.

Consistent in his attempt to resolve all phenomena to motion, Hobbes rejected the concept of formal or final causes, which are nothing but 'disguised' efficient causes ([1655] 1839, 10.4). Yet, Hobbes maintained a distinction between efficient cause and material cause. Whereas the material cause is just the receptor of the agent's activity, "the aggregate of accidents in the patient," the efficient cause is the aggregate of properties in the agent required for the production of the effect. The material and efficient causes are both part of the entire cause ([1655] 1839, 9.4). Necessity or necessary connection is not associated with the efficient cause as such, but with the entire cause, which entails both the agent and the patient. Entire causes are complex conditions (of both agents and patients) that are necessary and sufficient for the occurrence of the effect ([1655] 1839, 9.3).

Consequently, in Hobbes's universe, everything happens by necessity: "all the effects that have been, or shall be produced, have their necessity in things antecedent" ([1655] 1839, 9.5). Moreover, given the cause, "it cannot be conceived but that the effect will follow" ([1655] 1839, 9.7; italics mine). This description of cause (involving necessity) corresponds with what Taube thought to be the definition of necessity that was current in the seventeenth century, namely: "that the opposite of which is inconceivable" (Taube 1936, 102). A connection is necessary inasmuch as it is inconceivable, or contradictory, that the connection should not obtain. However, this supposed necessity is not based on any matter of fact relation. Hobbes (and most of his seventeenth century colleagues) secured necessary connection by postulating God in the causal relations of finite things. To hold that an entity acts in a manner not determined by God was inconceivable.

3.1.3. Spinoza: causation is logical necessitation

Spinoza (1632-77) was perhaps the most straightforward defender of the view that necessitation means implication. Causes logically necessitate their effects, and, conversely, they are themselves logically necessitated by their effects.

Spinoza made a distinction between 'free causes' and 'necessary causes.' Whereas free causes act from the necessity of their own nature (and are therefore the initiators of a change) necessary causes are necessitated by other causes (and are therefore just inactive nodes in a chain) (Spinoza [1677] 1949, Def. 7). God is the only free cause, by which is meant that, though He simply had to create what He did, He was not forced to do this by some external cause. He alone exists and acts from the necessity of his own nature. Only God is a genuine cause: "God's intellect is the sole cause of things, both of their essence and of their existence" ([1677] 1949, Prop. 17). The other 'causes' are just the nodes of a chain, completely compelled by previous links.

But, irrespective of the kind of cause, be it God or just some secondary cause, the relationship between cause and effect is one that involves necessity: “From a given determinate cause an effect necessarily follows; and, on the other hand, if no determinate cause be given it is impossible that an effect can follow” ([1677] 1949, Axiom 3). Given the reciprocity of the necessary relation between cause and effect, and given that "the order and connection of ideas is the same as the order and connection of things" ([1677] 1949, part II, Prop. 17), the necessity involved in the causal relationship must be understood as logical necessity. Causes logically necessitate their effects, and, conversely, effects logically necessitate their causes.

Moreover, the causal order is also understood in terms of the mechanical model. Spinoza radically rejected final causation as an anthropomorphic fiction. Ideas of purpose are derived from our tendency to act with an end in view. From this habit we incline to look at the universe as though it too had a purpose. But it is utterly wrong to look at ourselves and at the universe in this way. "This opinion alone would have been sufficient to keep the human race in darkness to all eternity if mathematics, which does not deal with ends but with the essences and properties of forms, had not placed before us another rule of truth" ([1677] 1949, 74). The truth is that everything just happens from the necessity of God's eternal nature, which simply is. By rejecting final causation and by considering all events as modifications of the eternal substance, Spinoza reduced the causal order to the mechanical order, and the mechanical order to the timeless order of mathematics. By doing so, he came to understand causation as some sort of logical necessitation.

3.1.4. Leibniz: sufficient reason and the denial of intra-substantial causality

The principle of sufficient reason is one of the foundations of the great metaphysical system of Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz (1646-1716). It refers both to the logical ground and to the real cause of things: "there is nothing without a reason, or no effect without a cause" ([ca. 1680-84] 1969, 268).

Leibniz's very peculiar view of causality has its origin in his rejection of the reduction of metaphysical change to locomotion (Descartes, Hobbes, Spinoza). This rejection in turn was the consequence of a fundamental critique of the Cartesian concept of matter as extended substance: "I do not think that substance is constituted by extension alone, since the concept of extension is incomplete. Nor do I think that extension can be conceived in itself, but I consider it an analyzable and relative concept" (Leibniz [1699] 1969, 516). Thus, instead of being an ultimate, unanalyzable quality, extension is an analyzable relation.

However, Leibniz's view of extension as a relation entails that the final constituents of bodies are not extensive. If they were, they would themselves be relations. Thus, Leibniz concluded that the ultimate existents must be non-extensive monads. The material bodies have monads as their constituents. The characteristic features of matter - extension, solidity, inertia, etcetera - are derived from the relations between the constituent monads. Thus matter is just a derivative entity, constituted by the relations between the primary existents (cf Leclerc 1986, 87).

Leibniz's analysis of matter had significant consequences for the concept of motion. Because motion is a modification of the extensive relations, it too is of secondary importance when compared to the action of the monad, which is always perception: "This is the only thing - namely, perceptions and their changes - that can be found in a simple substance. It is in this alone that the internal actions of simple substances can consist" (Leibniz [1714] 1969, 644).

Given this critique of matter as extended substance and of the reduction of change to locomotion, Leibniz necessarily had to develop a different concept of causality. In the first place, he rejected the idea that the ultimate constituents of reality (the monads) have a causal relation to each other. Instead, he proposed that the history of each individual monad consists of one causal chain.

Each individual substance has a concept from which everything follows that will ever be true about it: "The complete or perfect concept of an individual substance involves all its predicates, past, present, and future" ([ca. 1680-84] 1969, 268). The completeness of the individual concepts entails that there is a mutual causal independence of created substances. The correspondence of individual substances is explained by the doctrine of pre-established harmony: God has programmed the world in such a way that each monad develops in synchrony with all other monads. Just like a good clockmaker who constructs a number of clocks that keep perfect time, God pre-established the harmony of the universe at the beginning of things ([ca. 1680-84] 1969, 268-9).

Thus, all individual created substances are different expressions of the same "universal cause." However, though God caused their existence, their successive states are (normally) produced by their own natures. Every state of every monad is completely determined by its nature or substantial form, which is an internal, active causal principle. Thus every simple substance is "spontaneous," that is to say, "the one and only source of its modifications" ([1712] 1973, 175). The doctrine of the spontaneity of substance ensured for Leibniz that created individual substances were centers of activity, a feature he took to be a necessary condition of genuine individuality.

The internal forces of monads, which were identified with the substantial forms, Leibniz conceived as appetites. The appetites or substantial forms are teleological principles, which lead the monad from one perception to another in a pre-established way. This aspect of teleological causation, however, does not preclude efficient causality. On the contrary, efficient causality and final causality are complementary. Each efficient cause happens in accordance with a general rule or final cause, which is preordained by God [1712] 1973, 174). Thus, final causation and efficient causation are not different types of causation, each of which would act in different situations. But in each act of causation there is an efficient and a final component.

Leibniz's doctrines of final causality and of the spontaneity of simple substances fully agree with his brand of determinism: each monad behaves in accordance with its original purpose, that is to say, with its nature or substantial form, which it received from the beginning through God's creation. Leibniz's determinism - which is based on his principle of sufficient reason - entails that the necessity involved in the relation between cause and effect is as strong as logical necessity. A complete knowledge of the causes would yield the premises from which by reasoning alone the effects could be concluded.

3.2. CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY FROM LOCKE TILL MILL

3.2.1. Locke: causation and power

After the metaphysical systems in which Descartes, Hobbes, Spinoza and Leibniz tried to give an insight into the structure of reality, John Locke (1632-1704) merely hoped to discover what kind of things God has fitted us to know, and how we should use our intellect and understanding. Living in the century that witnessed the birth of modern natural science, Locke wished to defend its empiricist ontology against the weight of the philosophical tradition, which was rationalist in temper.

Basic to Locke's approach to the concept of causation was the idea of power. He held the Aristotelian belief that causes are substantial powers put to work:

Power being the source from whence all Action proceeds, the Substances wherein these Powers are, when they exert this Power into Act, are called Causes; and the Substances which thereupon are produced […] are called Effects. (Locke [1690] 1975, II, xxii, 11)

Thus, a cause is a particular substance putting its power to work. Apparently, Locke conceived causes and effects as particulars. In his entire discussion of power there is no reference to either uniformity or necessary connection. 'Power' and 'necessary connection' are kept separate in Locke's thought, for although we do perceive powerful or changing objects and thus have the ideas of power and cause, we do not perceive any necessary connections between ideas ([1690] 1975, IV, iii, 1).[6] By linking causation to power, but not to necessity, Locke clearly upheld what is nowadays called a singularist approach to causation.[7] This view conflicts with the modern received view of causation (ever since Hume), according to which causation involves uniformity or necessary connection according to law.

In the next section I will show that Isaac Newton defended a view that, though similar qua basic insights, was even more radical than Locke's. Whereas it was Locke's view that the idea of causation does not involve the idea of necessary connection according to law, Newton took the far more radical step of separating causation from law-like behavior.

3.2.2. Newton: rejection of the principle of causality

In his masterpiece, Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica, Newton (1642-1727) set forth the mathematical laws of physics and "the system of the world." The world system consists of material bodies (masses composed of "solid, massy, hard, impenetrable, moveable particles") at rest or in motion and interacting according to his three famous laws of motion, which are stated in implicitly causal terms:

(1) Every body perseveres in its state of rest, or of uniform motion in a right line, unless it is compelled to change that state by forces impressed thereon.

(2) The alteration of motion is ever proportional to the motive force impressed; and is made in the direction of the right line in which that force is impressed.[8]

(3) To every Action there is always opposed an equal Reaction; or the mutual actions of two bodies upon each other are always equal, and directed to contrary parts. (Newton [1687] 1968, I: 19-20)

The meaning of his implicit reference to causation in expressions such as "motive forces impressed upon" a body, which "compel" the body to move differently than if they had been absent, and the relationship between the concept of cause, these compelling motive forces, and the laws of motion, can only be understood by studying the Scholium.

In his Scholium (on absolute space and time), Newton made a distinction between "true motion" and "relative motion." Whereas true motion refers to some absolute standard (for example: a sailing ship in relation to the immovable earth), relative motion is motion in respect of some relative standard (for example: a man walking on a sailing ship). It is in his attempt to explain the difference between true motion and relative motion that Newton showed what he meant by 'cause':

The causes by which true and relative motions are distinguished, one from the other, are the forces impressed upon bodies to generate motion. True motion is neither generated nor altered, but by some force impressed upon the body moved; but relative motion may be generated or altered without any force impressed upon the body. For it is sufficient only to impress some force on other bodes with which the former is compared, that by their giving way, that relation may be changed, in which the relative rest or motion of this body did consist. Again, true motion suffers always some change from any force impressed upon the moving body... (Newton [1687] 1968, I: 14; italics mine)

Thus, Newton meant by cause precisely the above mentioned (in the first two laws of motion) "motive force impressed upon" a body, which "compels" it to move differently. Put more precisely: causes are forces or constraints that compel moving bodies to behave differently than they would have done without them. Thus ‘caused’ means constrained or compelled. Newton used the expression "free" motion to refer to unconstrained motions. Thus, every body that continues in its state of rest, or of uniform behavior in a straight line, is uncaused or free.

Thus Collingwood rightly concluded that "in Newton there is no law of universal causation; he not only does not assert that every event must have a cause, he explicitly denies it." Any movement that happens according to the first law of motion is an uncaused event. Thus if a body moves freely from A to B to C, the event which is the movement from A to B, is in no way the cause of the event which is the movement from B to C; it is not caused at all. The first law of motion is in fact a law of free or causeless motion (Collingwood [1938] 1991, 159; italics mine).

Thus, Newton may be said to radically reject the principle of universal causation, and to defend a fundamental distinction between causation and law-like behavior. For, there are two classes of events in Newton's universe: (a) those that happen according to a law, and (b) those that are the effects of causes. Causation and law-like behavior (or necessary connection according to law) are mutually exclusive notions.

In the next section, we shall see that Hume neglected (or misrepresented) both Locke's and Newton's basic insights. He simply assumed that the concept of cause involves the concept of necessity, which he identified with the concept of power.

3.2.3. David Hume: Causation and Regularity

Hume (1711-76) started from the observation that we think that our concept of causation involves the concept of necessity: events or states of objects follow their causes with some kind of necessity. More specifically, he held that the causal relation is characterized by three factors: (1) contiguity (in space and time) of cause and effect, (2) priority in time of cause to effect, and (3) a necessary connection between cause and effect. He considered the third factor to be by far the most important, because it is the criterion by which we seem to distinguish causal from non-causal relations (Hume [1739] 1978, 77).

The problem is that given the concept of causal necessity, there seems to be no way of rationally justifying it. To Hume such justification could be given only if causal necessity could be shown to be as stringent as logical necessity. But this is impossible. Hence, the necessity that we read into causal relationships is illusory; the illusion is born from our expectations, which are due to habit.

In accord with the empiricist principle that ideas are derived from impressions, Hume explained that in order to clarify and justify our idea of causation, we must find the impression that has given rise to it. The idea of necessity cannot be derived from our experience of individual cases of causation. For, in a single instance of causation, we can never discover any necessary connection or power. Instead, the idea of necessity arises from our experience of a great many similar instances. The constant conjunction produces an association of ideas - so if we see a flame, by sheer habit an idea of heat will come to mind. But the constant conjunction also produces a feeling of necessary connection in the mind. Thus, there are two roots of our idea of necessity: constant conjunction of the objects, and the feeling of necessary connection in the mind. The habitual transition from impression to idea feels like a necessitation, as if the mind were compelled to go from one to the other. The necessary connection is not discovered in the world but is projected onto the world by our minds ([1739] 1978, 266).

Most contemporary philosophers believe that Hume refuted the views of the rationalists before him (Descartes, Hobbes Spinoza, and Leibniz), who all held that there is an element of genuine a priori reasoning in causal inference. According to Hume, however, causal relations are not logically necessary, and hence they cannot be known a priori. To say that causation is not a logically necessary relation is to say that even if A caused B, it is not logically impossible to suppose that, given A, B might not have occurred. So far as reason and logic are concerned, given a particular event, anything may happen next. This is precisely the reason why causal relations cannot be known a priori; in order to determine whether or not a causal relation holds between A and B we must rely on our experience of similar relations. "There are no objects," wrote Hume, "which by the mere survey, without consulting experience, we can determine to be the causes of any other; and no objects, which we can certainly determine in the same manner not to be the causes" (Hume [1748] 1975, 75).

Today, Hume’s idea that regularity or constant conjunction is a necessary condition for causation is generally accepted.[9] If HIV is the cause of aids, then HIV and aids are constantly conjoined. This view seems to agree with our common sense view. We expect similar causes to have similar effects. But Hume held that regularity is also a sufficient condition for causation. This view was easily shown to be false by Thomas Reid (1710-96): there are many examples of constant conjunctions, such as day following night, that are not causal relations (Reid [1846] 1967, 627).

In The Name of Allah Most Merciful and Compassionate

PREFACE

Seyyed Hossein Nasr

The Study of Shi'ism

Despite the vast amount of information and the number of factual details assembled during the past century by Western scholarship in the fields of orientalism and comparative religion, many gaps still exist in the knowledge of the various religions of the world, even on the level of historical facts. Moreover, until recently most of the studies carried out within these fields have suffered from a lack of metaphysical penetration and sympathetic insight. One of the most notable omissions in Western studies of the religions of the East, and of Islam in particular, has occurred in the case of Shi'ism. Until now Shi'ism has received little attention; and when it has been discussed, it has usually been relegated to the secondary and peripheral status of a religio-political "sect," a heterodoxy or even a heresy. Hence its importance in both the past and the present has been belittled far more than a fair and objective study of the matter would justify.

The present work hopes to redress partially the lack of ac- cessible and reliable English-language material pertaining to Shi'ism. It is the first of a series of books designed to bring to the English-speaking world accurate information about Shi'ism through the translation of writings by authentic Shi'ite represen tatives and of some of the traditional sources which, along with the Quran, form the foundation of Shi'ite Islam. The purpose of this series is to present Shi'ism as a living reality as it has been and as it is, in both its doctrinal and historical aspects. Thereby we can reveal yet another dimension of the Islamic tradition and make better known the richness of the Islamic revelation in its historical unfolding, which could have been willed only by Providence.

This task, however, is made particularly difficult in a European language and for a predominantly non-Muslim audience by the fact that to explain Shi'ism and the causes for its coming into being is to fall immediately into polemics with Sunni Islam. The issues which thus arise, in turn, if presented without the proper safeguards and without taking into account the audience involved could only be detrimental to the sympathetic understanding of Islam itself. In the traditional Islamic atmosphere where faith in the revelation is naturally very strong, the Sunni-Shi'ite polemics which have gone on for over thirteen centuries, and which have become especially accentuated since the Ottoman-Safavid rivalries dating from the tenth/sixteenth century, have never resulted in the rejection of Islam by anyone from either camp. In the same way the bitter medieval theological feuds among different Christian churches and schools never caused anyone to abandon Christianity itself, for the age was one characterized by faith. But were Christianity to be presented to Muslims beginning with a full description of all the points that separated, let us say, the Catholic and Orthodox churches in the Middle Ages, or even the branches of the early church, and all that the theologians of one group wrote against the other, the effect upon the Muslims' understanding of the Christian religion itself could only be negative. In fact a Muslim might begin to wonder how anyone could have remained Christian or how the Church could have survived despite all these divisions and controversies. Although the divisions within Islam are far fewer than those in Christianity, one would expect the same type of effect upon the Western reader faced with the Shi'ite-Sunni polemics. These controversies would naturally be viewed by such a reader from the outside and without the faith in Islam itself which has encompassed this whole debate since its inception and has provided its traditional context as well as the protection and support for the followers of both sides.

Despite this difficulty, however, Shi'ism must of necessity be studied and presented from its own point of view as well as from within the general matrix of Islam. This task is made necessary first of all because Shi'ism exists as an important historical reality within Islam and hence it must be studied as an objective religious fact. Secondly, the very attacks made against Islam and its unity by certain Western authors (who point to the Sunni-Shi'ite division and often fail to remember the similar divisions within every other world religion) necessitate a detailed and at the same time authentic study of Shi'ism within the total context of Islam. Had not such a demand existed it would not even have been necessary to present to the world outside Islam all the polemical arguments that have separated Sunnism and Shi'ism. This is especially true at a time when many among the Sunni and Shi'ite 'ulama' are seeking in every way possible to avoid confrontation with each other in order to safeguard the unity of Islam in a secularized world which threatens Islam from both the outside and the inside.

The attitude of this group of ulama is of course in a sense reminiscent of the ecumenism among religions, and also within a given religion, that is so often discussed today in the West. Most often, however, people search in these ecumenical movements for a common denominator which, in certain instances, sacrifices divinely ordained qualitative differences for the sake of a purely human and often quantitative egalitarianism. In such cases the so-called "ecumenical" forces in question are no more than a concealed form of the secularism and humanism which gripped the West at the time of the Renaissance and which in their own turn caused religious divisions within Christianity. This type of ecumenism, whose hidden motive is much more worldly than religious, goes hand in hand with the kind of charity that is willing to forego the love of God for the love of the neighbor and in fact insists upon the love of the neighbor in spite of a total lack of the love for God and the Transcendent. The mentality which advocates this kind of "charity" affords one more example of the loss of the transcendent dimension and the reduction of all things to the purely worldly. It is yet another manifestation of the secular character of modernism which in this case has penetrated into the supreme Christian virtue of charity and, to the extent that it has been successful, has deprived this virtue of any spiritual significance.

From the point of view of this type of ecumenical mentality, to speak approvingly of the differences between religions, or of the different orthodox schools within a single religion, is tantamount to betraying man and his hope for salvation and peace. A secular and humanistic ecumenism of this kind fails to see that real peace or salvation lies in Unity through this divinely ordained diversity and not in its rejection, and that the diversity of religions and also of the orthodox schools within each religion are signs of the Divine compassion, which seeks to convey the message of heaven to men possessing different spiritual and psychological qualities. True ecumenism would be a search in depth after Unity, essential and Transcendent Unity, and not the quest after a uniformity which would destroy all qualitative distinctions. It would accept and honor not only the sublime doctrines but even the minute details of every tradition, and yet see the Unity which shines through these very outward differences. And within each religion true ecumenism would respect the other orthodox schools and yet remain faithful to every facet of the traditional background of the school in question. It would be less harmful to oppose other religions, as has been done by so many religious authorities throughout history, than to be willing to destroy essential aspects of one's own religion in order to reach a common denominator with another group of men who are asked to undergo the same losses. To say the least, a league of religions could not guarantee religious peace, any more than the League of Nations guaranteed political peace.

Different religions have been necessary in the long history of mankind because there have been different "humanities" or human collectivities on earth. There having been different recipients of the Divine message, there has been more than one echo of the Divine Word. God has said "I" to each of these "humanities" or communities; hence the plurality of religions.[1] Within each religion as well, especially within those that have been destined for many ethnic groups, different orthodox interpretations of the tradition, of the one heavenly message, have been necessary in order to guarantee the integration of the different psychological and ethnic groupings into a single spiritual perspective. It is difficult to imagine how the Far Eastern peoples could have become Buddhist without the Mahayana school, or some of the Eastern peoples Muslim without Shi'ism. The presence of such divisions within the religious tradition in question does not contradict its inner unity and transcendence. Rather it has been the way of ensuring spiritual unity in a world of diverse cultural and ethnic backgrounds.

Of course, since the exoteric religious perspective relies on outward forms, it always tends in every religion to make its own interpretation the only interpretation. That is why a particular school in any religion chooses a single aspect of the religion and attaches itself so intensely to that one aspect that it forgets and even negates all other aspects. Only on the esoteric level of religious experience can there be understanding of the inherent limitation of being bound to only one aspect of the total Truth; only on the esoteric level can each religious assertion be properly placed so as not to destroy the Transcendent Unity which is beyond and yet dwells within the outward forms and determinations of a particular religion or religious school.

Shi'ism in Islam should be studied in this light: as an affirmation of a particular dimension of Islam which is made central and in fact taken by Shi'ites to be Islam as such. It was not a movement that in any way destroyed the Unity of Islam, but one that added to the richness of the historical deployment and spread of the Quranic message. And despite its exclusiveness, it contains within its forms the Unity which binds all aspects of Islam together. Like Sunnism, Sufism and everything else that is genuinely Islamic, Shi'ism was already contained as a seed in the Holy Quran and in the earliest manifestations of the revelation, and belongs to the totality of Islamic orthodoxy.[2]

Moreover, in seeking to draw closer together in the spirit of a true ecumenism in the above sense, as is advocated today by both the Sunni and Shi'ite religious authorities, Shi'ism and Sunnism must not cease to be what they are and what they have always been. Shi'ism, therefore, must be presented in all its fullness, even in those aspects which contradict Sunni interpretations of certain events in Islamic history, which in any case are open to various interpretations. Sunnism and Shi'ism must first of all remain faithful to themselves and to their own traditional foundations before they can engage in a discourse for the sake of Islam or, more generally speaking, religious values as such. But if they are to sacrifice their integrity for a common denominator which would of necessity fall below the fullness of each, they will only have succeeded in destroying the traditional foundation which has preserved both schools and guaranteed their vitality over the centuries. Only Sufism or gnosis('irfan) can reach that Unity which embraces these two facets of Islam and yet transcends their outward differences. Only Islamic esotericism can see the legitimacy and meaning of each and the real significance of the interpretation each has made of Islam and of Islamic history.

Without, therefore, wanting to reduce Shi'ism to a least common denominator with Sunnism or to be apologetic, this book presents Shi'ism as a religious reality and an important aspect of the Islamic tradition. Such a presentation will make possible a more intimate knowledge of Islam in its multidimensional reality but at the same time it will pose certain difficulties of a polemical nature which can be resolved only on the level which transcends polemics altogether. As already mentioned, the presentation of Shi'ism in its totality and therefore including its polemical aspects, while nothing new for the Sunni world, especially since the intensification of Sunni-Shi'ite polemics during the Ottoman and Safavid periods, would certainly have an adverse effect upon the non-Muslim reader if the principles mentioned above were to be forgotten.

In order to understand Islam fully it must always be remembered that it, like other religions, contained in itself from the beginning the possibility of different types of interpretation: (1) that Shi'ism and Sunnism, while opposed to each other on certain important aspects of sacred history, are united in the acceptance of the Quran as the Word of God and in the basic principles ofthe faith; (2) that Shi'ism bases itself on a particular dimension of Islam and on an aspect of the nature of the Prophet as continued later in the line of the Imams and the Prophet's Household to the exclusion of, and finally in opposition to, another aspect which is contained in Sunnism; (3) and finally, that the Shi'ite-Sunni polemics can be put aside and the position of each of these schools explained only on the level of esotericism, which transcends their differences and yet unites them inwardly.

Fundamental Elements of Shi'ism

Although in Islam no political or social movement has ever been separated from religion, which from the point of view of Islam necessarily embraces all things, Shi'ism was not brought into existence only by the question of the political succession to the Prophet of Islam-upon whom be blessings and peace-as so many Western works claim (although this question was of course of great importance). The problem of political succession may be said to be the element that crystallized the Shi'ites into a distinct group, and political suppression in later periods, especially the martyrdom of Imam Husayn-upon whom be peace-only accentuated this tendency ofthe Shi'ites to see themselves as a separate community within the Islamic world. The principal cause of the coming into being of Shi'ism, however, lies in the fact that this possibility existed within the Islamic revelation itself and so had to be realized. Inasmuch as there were exoteric and esoteric interpretations from the very beginning, from which developed the schools (madhhab ) of the Shari'ah and Sufism in the Sunni world, there also had to be an interpretation of Islam which would combine these elements in a single whole. This possibility was realized in Shi'ism, for which the Imam is the person in whom these two aspects of traditional authority are united and in whom the religious life is marked by a sense of tragedy and martyrdom. There had to be the possibility, we might say, of an esotericismat least in its aspect of love rather than of pure gnosis-which would flow into the exoteric domain and penetrate into even the theological dimension of the religion, rather than remain confined to its purely inward aspect. Such a possibility wasShi'ism. Hence the question which arose was not so much who should be the successor of the Holy Prophet as what the function and qualifications of such a person would be.

The distinctive institution of Shi'ism is the Imamate and the question of the Imamate is inseparable from that of walayat, or the esoteric function of interpreting the inner mysteries of the Holy Quran and the Shari'ah.[3] According to the Shi'ite view the successor of the Prophet of Islam must be one who not only rules over the community in justice but also is able to interpret the Divine Law and its esoteric meaning. Hence he must be free from error and sin(ma'sum) and he must be chosen from on high by divine decree(nass) through the Prophet. The whole ethos of Shi'ism revolves around the basic notion of walayat, which is intimately connected with the notion of sancitity(wilayah) in Sufism. At the same time walayat contains certain implications on the level of the Shari'ah inasmuch as the Imam, or he who administers the function of walayat, is also the interpreter of religion for the religious community and its guide and legitimate ruler.

It can be argued quite convincingly that the very demand of 'Ali for allegiance(bay'ah) from the whole Islamic community at the moment that he became caliph implies that he accepted the method of selecting the caliph by the voice of the majority which had been followed in the case of the three khulafa' rashidun or "rightly-guided caliphs" before him, and that thereby he accepted the previous caliphs insofar as they were rulers and administrators of the Islamic community. What is also certain from the Shi'ite point of view, however, is that he did not accept their function as Imams in the Shi'ite sense of possessing the power and function of giving the esoteric interpretations of the inner mysteries of the Holy Quran and the Shari'ah, as is seen by his insistence from the beginning that he was the heir and inheritor(wasi) of the Prophet and the Prophet's legitimate successor in the Shi'ite sense of "succession." The Sunni-Shi'ite dispute over the successors to the Holy Prophet could be resolved if it were recognized that in one case there is the question of administering a Divine Law and in the other of also revealing and interpretingits inner mysteries. The very life of Ali and his actions show that he accepted the previous caliphs as understood in the Sunni sense of khalifah (the ruler and the administrator of the Shari'ah), but confined the function of walayat, after the Prophet, to himself. That is why it is perfectly possible to respect him as a caliph in the Sunni sense and as an Imam in the Shi'ite sense, each in its own perspective.

The five principles of religion(usul al-din) as stated by Shi'ism include: tawhid or belief in Divine Unity; nubuwwah or prophecy; ma'ad or ressurrection; imamah or the Imamate, belief in the Imams as successors of the Prophet; and 'adl or Divine Justice. In the three basic principles-Unity, prophecy, and resurrectionSunnism and Shi'ism agree. It is only in the other two that they differ. In the question of the Imamate, it is the insistence on the esoteric function of the Imam that distinguishes the Shi'ite perspective from the Sunni; in the question of justice it is the emphasis placed upon this attribute as an intrinsic quality of the Divine Nature that is particular to Shi'ism. We might say that in the exoteric formulation of Sunni theology, especially as contained in Ash'arism, there is an emphasis upon the will of God. Whatever God wills is just, precisely because it is willed by God; and intelligence('aql) is in a sense subordinated to this will and to the "voluntarism" which characterizes this form of theology.[4] In Shi'ism, however, the quality of justice is considered as innate to the Divine Nature. God cannot act in an unjust manner because it is His Nature to be just. For Him to be unjust would violate His own Nature, which is impossible. Intelligence can judge the justness or unjustness of an act and this judgment is not completely suspended in favor of a pure voluntarism on the part of God. Hence, there is a greater emphasis upon intelligence('aql) in Shi'ite theology and a greater emphasis upon will(iradah) in Sunni kalam, or theology, at least in the predominant Ash'arite school. The secret of the greater affinity of Shi'ite theology for the "intellectual sciences"(al-'ulum al-'aqliyah) lies in part in this manner of viewing Divine Justice.[5]

Shi'ism also differs from Sunnism in its consideration of the means whereby the original message of the Quranic revelationreached the Islamic community, and thereby in certain aspects of the sacred history of Islam. There is no disagreement on the Quran and the Prophet, that is, on what constitutes the origin of the Islamic religion. The difference in view begins with the period immediately following the death of the Prophet. One might say that the personality of the Prophet contained two dimensions which were later to become crystallized into Sunnism and Shi'ism. Each of these two schools was later to reflect back upon the life and personality of the Prophet solely from its own point of view, thus leaving aside and forgetting or misconstruing the other dimension excluded from its own perspective. For Shi'ism the "dry" (in the alchemical sense) and "austere" aspect of the Prophet's personality as reflected in his successors in the Sunni world was equated with worldliness, while his "warm" and "compassionate" dimension was emphasized as his whole personality and as the essence of the nature of the Imams, who were considered to be a continuation of him.[6]

For the vast majority of the Islamic community, which supported the original caliphate, the companions(sahabah) of the Prophet represent the Prophet's heritage and the channel through which his message was transmitted to later generations. Within the early community the companions occupied a favored position and among them the first four caliphs stood out as a distinct group. It is through the companions that the sayings(hadith) and manner of living(sunnah) of the Prophet were transmitted to the second generation of Muslims. Shi'ism, however, concentrating on the question of walayat and insisting on the esoteric content of the prophetic message, saw in Ali and the Household of the Prophet(ahl-i bayt) , in its Shi'ite sense, the sole channel through which the original message of Islam was transmitted, although, paradoxically enough the majority of the descendants of the Prophet belonged to Sunnism and continue to do so until today. Hence, although most of the hadith literature in Shi'ism and Sunnism is alike, the chain of transmission in many instances is not the same. Also, inasmuch as the Imams constitute for Shi'ism a continuation of the spiritual authority of the Prophet-although not of course his law-bringing function-their sayings andactions represent a supplement to the prophetic hadith and sunnah. From a purely religious and spiritual point of view the Imams may be said to be for Shi'ism an extension of the personality of the Prophet during the succeeding centuries. Such collections of the sayings of the Imams as the Nahj al-balaghah of Ali and the Usul al-kafi, containing sayings of all the Imams, are for the Shi'ites a continuation of the hadith collections concerned with the sayings of the Prophet himself. In many Shi'ite collections of hadith, the sayings of the Prophet and of the Imams are combined. The grace(barakah) [7] of the Quran, as conveyed to the world by the Prophet, reached the Sunni community through the companions (foremost among them were Abu Bakr, 'Umar, 'Uthman, Ali, and a few others such as Anas and Salman), and during succeeding generations through the ulama and the Sufis, each in his own world. This barakah, however, reached the Shi'ite community especially through Ali and the Household of the Prophet-in its particular Shi'ite sense as referred to above and not simply in the sense of any Alid.

It is the intense love for Ali and his progeny through Fatimah that compensates for the lack of attention towards, and even neglect of, the other companions in Shi'ism. It might be said that the light of Ali and the Imams was so intense that it blinded the Shi'ites to the presence of the other companions, many of whom were saintly men and also had remarkable human qualities. Were it not for that intense love of Ali, the Shi'ite attitude towards the companions would hardly be conceivable and would appear unbalanced, as it surely must when seen from the outside and without consideration for the intensity of devotion to the Household of the Prophet. Certainly the rapid spread of Islam, which is one of the most evident extrinsic arguments for the divine origin of the religion, would have been inconceivable without the companions and foremost among them the caliphs. This fact itself demonstrates how the Shi'ite views concerning the companions and the whole of early Sunnism were held within the context of a religious family (that of the whole of Islam) whose existence was taken for granted. If Islam had not spread through the Sunni caliphs and leaders many of the Shi'ite argumentswould have had no meaning. Sunnism and its very success in the world must therefore be assumed as a necessary background for an understanding of Shi'ism, whose minority role, sense ofmartyrdom and esoteric qualities could only have been realized in the presence of the order which had previously been established by the Sunni majority and especially by the early companions and their entourage. This fact itself points to the inner bond relating Sunnism and Shi'ism to their common Quranic basis despite the outward polemics.

The barakah present in both Sunnism and Shi'ism has the same origin and quality, especially if we take into consideration Sufism, which exists in both segments of the Islamic community. The barakah is everywhere that which has issued from the Quran and the Prophet, and it is often referred to as the "Muhammadan barakah"(al-barakat al-muhammadiyah) .

Shi'ism and the general esoteric teachings of Islam which are usually identified with the essential teachings of Sufism have a very complex and intricate relationship.[8] Shi'ism must not be equated simply with Islamic esotericism as such. In the Sunni world Islamic esotericism manifests itself almost exclusively as Sufism, whereas in the Shi'ite world, in addition to a Sufism similar to that found in the Sunni world, there is an esoteric element based upon love(mahabbah) which colors the whole structure of the religion. It is based on love (or in the language of Hinduism, bhakta) rather than on pure gnosis or ma'rifah, which by definition is always limited to a small number. There are, of course, some who would equate original Shi'ism purely and simply with esotericism.[9] Within the Shi'ite tradition itself the proponents of "Shi'ite gnosis"('irfan-i shi'i) such as Sayyid Haydar Amuli speak of the equivalence of Shi'ism and Sufism. In fact in his major work, theJami' al-asrar (Compendium of Divine Mysteries), Amuli's main intention is to show that real Sufism and Shi'ism are the same.[10] But if we consider the whole of Shi'ism, then there is of course in addition to the esoteric element the exoteric side, the law which governs a human community. Ali ruled over a human society and the sixth Imam, Ja'far al-Sadiq, founded the Twelve-Imam Shi'ite school of law.Yet,as mentionedabove, esotericism, especially in the form of love, has always occupied what might be called a privileged position within Shi'ism, so that even the Shi'ite theology and creed contain formulations that are properly speaking more mystical than strictly theological.

In addition to its law and the esoteric aspect contained in Sufism and gnosis, Shi'ism contained from the beginning a type of Divine Wisdom, inherited from the Prophet and the Imams, which became the basis for the hikmah or sophia that later developed extensively in the Muslim world and incorporated into its structure suitable elements of the Graeco-Alexandrian, the Indian, and the Persian intellectual heritages. It is often said that Islamic philosophy came into being as a result of the translation of Greek texts and that after a few centuries Greek philosophy died out in the Muslim world and found a new home in the Latin West. This partially true account leaves out other basic aspects of the story, such as the central role of the Quran as the source of knowledge and truth for the Muslims; the fundamental role of the spiritual hermeneutics(ta'wil) practiced by Sufis and Shi'ites alike, through which all knowledge became related to the inner levels of meaning of the Sacred Book; and the more than one thousand years of traditional Islamic philosophy and theosophy which has continued to our day in Shi'ite Persia and in adjacent areas.[11] When we think of Shi'ism we must remember that, in addition to the law and the strictly esoteric teachings, Shi'ism possesses a "theosophy" or hikmah which made possible the vast development of later Islamic philosophy and the intellectual sciences from the beginning, enabling it to have a role in the intellectual life of Islam far outweighing its numerical size.

The respect accorded to the intellect as the ladder to Divine Unity, an element that is characteristic of all of Islam and especially emphasized by Shi'ism, helped create a traditional educational system in which rigorous training in logic went hand in hand with the religious and also the esoteric sciences. The traditional curriculum of the Shi'ite universities(madrasahs) includes to this day courses ranging from logic and mathematics to metaphysics and Sufism. The hierarchy of knowledge has madeof logic itself a ladder to reach the suprarational. Logical demonstration, especially burhan-or demonstration in its technical sense, which has played a role in Islamic logic that differs from its use in Western logic-came to be regarded as a reflection of the Divine Intellect itself, and with the help of its certainties the Shi'ite metaphysicians and theologians have sought to demonstrate with rigor the most metaphysical teachings of the religion. We see many examples of this method in the present book, which is itself the result of such a traditional madrasah education. It may present certain difficulties to the Western reader who is accustomed to the total divorce of mysticism and logic and for whom the certainty of logic has been used, or rather misused, for so long as a tool to destroy all other certainties, both religious and metaphysical. But the method itself has its root in a fundamental aspect of Islam-in which the arguments of religion are based not primarily on the miraculous but on the intellectually evident[12] -an aspect which has been strongly emphasized in Shi'ism and is reflected in both the content and the form of its traditional expositions.

Present State of Shi'ite Studies

Historical factors, such as the fact that the West never had the same direct political contact with Shi'ite Islam that it did with Sunni Islam, have caused the Occident to be less aware until now of Shi'ite Islam than of Sunnism. And Sunni Islam also has not always been understood properly or interpreted sympathetically by all Western scholars. The West came into direct contact with Islam in Spain, Sicily, and Palestine in the Middle Ages and in the Balkans during the Ottoman period. These encounters were all with Sunni Islam with the exception of limited contacts with Isma'ilism during the Crusades. In the colonial period India was the only large area in which a direct knowledge of Shi'ism was necessary for day-to-day dealings with Muslims. For this reason the few works in English dealing with Twelve-Imam Shi'ism are mostly connected with the Indian subcontinent.[13] As a result of this lack of familiarity many of the early Western orientalists brought the most fantastic charges against Shi'ism, such as that its views were forged by Jews disguised as Muslims. One of the reasons for this kind of attack, which can also be seen in the case of Sufism, is that this type of orientalist did not want to see in Islam any metaphysical or eschatological doctrines of an intellectual content, which would make of it something more than the famous "simple religion of the desert." Such writers therefore had to reject as spurious any metaphysical and spiritual doctrines found within the teachings of Shi'ism or Sufism. One or two works written during this period and dealing with Shi'ism were composed by missionaries who were particularly famous for their hatred of Islam.[14]

It is only during the last generation that a very limited number of Western scholars have sought to make a more serious study of Shi'ism. Chief among them are L. Massignon, who devoted a few major studies to early Arab Shi'ism, and H. Corbin, who has devoted a lifetime to the study of the whole of Shi'ism and its later intellectual development especially as centered in Persia, and who has made known to the Western world for the first time some of the metaphysical and theosophical richness of this as yet relatively unknown aspect of Islam.[15] Yet, despite the efforts of these and a few other scholars, much of Shi'ism remains to this day a closed book, and there has not appeared as yet an introductory work in English to present the whole of Shi'ism to one who is just beginning to delve into the subject.

The Present Book

It was to overcome this deficiency that in 1962 Professor Kenneth Morgan of Colgate University, who pursues the laudable goal of presenting Oriental religions to the West from the point of view of the authentic representatives of these religions, approached me with the suggestion that I supervise a series of three volumes dealing with Shi'ism and written from the Shi'ite point of view. Aware of the difficulty of such an undertaking, I accepted because of the realization of the importance which the completion of such a project might have upon the future of Islamic studies and even of comparative religion as a whole. The present work is the first in that series; the others will be a volume dealing with the Shi'ite view of the Quran, written also by 'Allamah[16] Tabataba'i, and an anthology of the sayings of the Shi'ite Imams.

During the summer of 1963 when Professor Morgan was in Tehran we visited 'Allamah Sayyid Muhammad Husayn Tabataba'i in Darakah, a small village by the mountains near Tehran, where the venerable Shi'ite authority was spending the summer months away from the heat of Qum where he usually resides. The meeting was dominated by the humble presence of a man who has devoted his whole life to the study of religion, in whom humility and the power of intellectual analysis are combined. As we walked back from the house through the winding and narrow roads of the village, which still belongs to a calm and peaceful traditional world not as yet perturbed by the sound and fury of modernism, Professor Morgan proposed that 'Allamah Tabataba'i write the general volume on Shi'ism in the series and also the volume on the Quran. Later I was able to gain the consent of this celebrated Shi'ite authority that he put aside his monumental Quranic commentary, al-Mizan, to devote some of his time to these volumes. Having studied for years with him in the fields of traditional philosophy and theosophy, I knew that of the traditional Shi'ite authorities he was the one most qualified to write such a work, a work which would be completely authentic from the Shi'ite point of view and at the same time based upon an intellectual foundation. I realized of course the innate difficulty of finding a person who would be a reputable religious authority, respected by the Shi'ite community and untainted by the influence of Western modes of thought, and at the same time well enough conversant with the Western world and the mentality of the Western reader to be able to address his arguments to them. Unfortunately, no ideal solution could be found to this problem, for in Persia, as elsewhere in the Muslim world, there are today usually two types of men concerned with religious questions: (1) the traditional authorities, who are as a rule completely unaware of the nature of the psychological and mental structure of modern man, or at best have a shallow knowledge of the modern world, and (2) the modernized so-called "intellectuals," whose attachment to Islam is often only sentimental and apologetic and who usually present a version of Islam which would not be acceptable to the traditional authorities or to the Muslim community(ummah) . Only during the past few years has a new class of scholars, still extremely small in number, come into being which is both orthodox and traditional in the profound sense of these terms and at the same time knows well the modern world and the language necessary to reach the intelligent Western reader.

In any case, since the aim of Professor Morgan was to have a description of Shi'ism by one of the respected traditional Shi'ite scholars, the ulama, it was necessary to turn to the first class, of which 'Allamah Tabataba'i is an eminent example. Of course one could not expect in such a case the deep understanding of the Western audience for whom the work is intended. Even his knowledge of Sunni Islam moves within the orbit of the traditional polemics between Sunnism and Shi'ism, which has been taken for granted until now by him as by so many other of the prominent ulama of both sides. There are several types of Muslim and in particular of Shi'ite ulama and among them some are not wellversed in theosophy and gnosis and limit themselves to the exoteric sciences. 'Allamah Tabataba'i represents that central and intellectually dominating class of Shi'ite ulama who have combined interest in jurisprudence and Quranic commentary with philosophy, theosophy, and Sufism and who represent a more universal interpretation of the Shi'ite point of view. Within the class of the traditional ulama, 'Allamah Tabataba'i possesses the distinction of being a master of both the Shari'ite and esoteric sciences and at the same time he is an outstanding hakim or traditional Islamic philosopher (or more exactly, "theosopher"). Hence he was asked to perform this important task despite all the difficulties inherent in the presentation of the polemical side of Shi'ism to a world that does not believe in the Islamic revelation to start with and for whom the intense love of Ali and his Household, held by the Shi'ites, simply does not exist. Certain explanations, therefore, are demanded that would not occur to a person writing and thinking solely within the Shi'ite world view.

Six years of collaboration with 'Allamah Tabataba'i and many journeys to Qum and even Mashhad, which he often visits in the summer, helped me to prepare the work gradually for translation into English-a task which requires a translation of meaning from one world to another, to a world that begins without the general background of knowledge and faith which the usual audience of 'Allamah Tabataba'i possesses. In editing the text so that it would make possible a thorough and profound under standing of the structure of Islam, I have sought to take into full consideration the differences existing between traditional and modern scholarship, and also the particular demands of the audience to which this work is addressed.[17] But putting aside the demands made by these two conditions, I have tried to remain as faithful to the original as possible so as to enable the non-Muslim reader to study not only the message but also the form and intellectual style of a traditional Muslim authority.

The reader must therefore always remember that the arguments presented in this book are not addressed by 'Allamah Tabataba'i to a mind that begins with doubt but to one that is grounded in certainty and is moreover immersed in the world of faith and religious dedication. The depth of the doubt and nihilism of certain types of modern man would be inconceivable to him. His arguments, therefore, may at times be difficult to grasp or unconvincing to some Western readers; they are only so, however, because he is addressing an audience whose demand for causality and whose conception of the levels of reality is not identical with that of the Western reader. Also there may be explanations in which too much is taken for granted, or repetitions which appear to insult the intelligence of the perspicacious Western reader in whom the analytical powers of the mind are usually more developed than among most Orientals.[18] In these cases, the characteristic manner of his presentation and the only world known to him, that of contemporary Islam in its traditional aspect, must be kept in mind. If the arguments of St. Anselm and St. Thomas for the proof of the existence of God do not appeal to most modern men, it is not because modern men are more intelligent than the medieval theologians, but because the medieval masters were addressing men of different mentalities with different needs for the explanation of causality. Likewise, 'Allamah Tabataba'i offers arguments addressed to the audience he knows, the traditional Muslim intelligentsia. If all of his arguments do not appeal to the Western reader, this should not be taken as proof of the contention that his conclusions are invalid.

To summarize, this book may be said to be the first general introduction to Shi'ism in modern times written by an outstanding contemporary Shi'ite authority. While meant for the larger world outside of Shi'ism, its arguments and methods of presentation are those of traditional Shi'ism, which he represents and of which he is a pillar. 'Allamah Tabataba'i has tried to present the traditional Shi'ite point of view as it is and as it has been believed in and practiced by generations of Shi'ites. He has sought to be faithful to Shi'ite views without regard for the possible reactions of the outside world and without brushing aside the particular features of Shi'ism that have been controversial. To transcend the polemical level, two religious schools would either have to put aside their differences in the face of a common danger, or the level of discourse would have to be shifted from the level of historical and theological facts and dogmas to purely metaphysical expositions. 'Allamah Tabataba'i has not taken either path but has remained content with describing Shi'ism as it is. He has sought to do full justice to the Shi'ite perspective in the light of the official position that he holds in the Shi'ite religious world as he is a master of both the exoteric(zahir) and the esoteric(batin) sciences. For those who know the Islamic world well it is easy to discern the outward difficulties that such an authority faces in expounding the total view of things and especially in exposing the esoteric doctrines which alone can claim true universality. He is seen in this book as the expositor and defender of Shi'ism in both its exoteric and esoteric aspects, to the extent that his position in the Shi'ite world has allowed him to speak openly of the esoteric teachings. But all that is uttered carries with it the voice of authority, which tradition alone provides. Behind the words of 'Allamah Tabataba'i stand fourteen centuries of Shi'ite Islam and the continuity and transmission of a sacred and rehigious knowledge made possible by the continuity of the Islamic tradition itself.

The Author

'Allamah Sayyid Muhammad Husayn Tabataba'i[19] was born in Tabriz in A.H. (lunar) 1321 or A.H. (solar) 1282, (A.D. 1903)[20] in a family of descendants of the Holy Prophet which for fourteen generations has produced outstanding Islamic scholars.[21] He received his earliest education in his native city, mastering the elements of Arabic and the religious sciences, and at about the age of twenty set out for the great Shi'ite University of Najaf to continue more advanced studies. Most students in the madrasahs follow the branch of "transmitted sciences"(al-'ulum al-naqliyah) , especially the sciences dealing with the Divine Law, fiqh or jurisprudence, and usul al-fiqh or the principles of jurisprudence. 'Allamah Tabataba'i, however, sought to master both branches of the traditional sciences: the transmitted and the intellectual. He studied Divine Law and the principles of jurisprudence with two of the great masters of that day, Mirza Muhammad Husayn Na'ini and Shaykh Muhammad Husayn Isfahani. He became such a master in this domain that had he kept completely to these fields he would have become one of the foremost mujtahids or authorities on Divine Law and would have been able to wield much political and social influence.

But such was not his destiny. He was more attracted to the intellectual sciences, and he studied assiduously the whole cycle of traditional mathematics with Sayyid Abu'l-Qasim Khwansari, and traditional Islamic philosophy, including the standard texts of the Shifa' of Ibn Sina, the Asfar of Sadr al-Din Shirazi and the Tamhid al-qawa'id of Ibn Turkah, with Sayyid Husayn Badkuba'i, himself a student of two of the most famous masters of the school of Tehran, Sayyid Abu'l-Hasan Jilwah and Aqa 'Ali Mudarris Zunuzi.[22]

In addition to formal learning, or what the traditional Muslim sources call "acquired science"('ilm-i husuli) , 'Allamah Taba- taba'i sought after that "immediate science"('ilm-i huduri) or gnosis through which knowledge turns into vision of the supernal realities. He was fortunate in finding a great master of Islamic gnosis, Mirza 'Ali Qadi, who initiated him into the Divine mysteries and guided him in his journey toward spiritual perfection. 'Allamah Tabataba'i once told me that before meeting Qadi he had studied the Fusus al-hikam of Ibn 'Arabi and thought that he knew it well. When he met this master of real spiritual authority he realized that he knew nothing. He also told me that when Mirza Ali Qadi began to teach the Fusus it was as if all the walls of the room were speaking of the reality of gnosis and participating in his exposition. Thanks to this master the years in Najaf became for 'Allamah Tabataba'i not only a period of intellectual attainment but also one of asceticism and spiritual practices, which enabled him to attain that state of spiritual realization often referred to as becoming divorced from the darkness of material limitations(tajrid) . He spent long periods in fasting and prayer and underwent a long interval during which he kept absolute silence. Today his presence carries with it the silence of perfect contemplation and concentration even when he is speaking.

'Allamah Tabataba'i returned to Tabriz in A.H. (solar) 1314 (A.D. 1934) and spent a few quiet years in that city teaching a small number of disciples, but he was as yet unknown to the religious circles of Persia at large. It was the devastating events of the Second World War and the Russian occupation of Persia that brought 'Allamah Tabataba'i from Tabriz to Qum in A.H. (solar) 1324 (A.D. 1945) Qum was then, and continues to be, the center of religious studies in Persia. In his quiet and unassuming manner 'Allamah Tabataba'i began to teach in this holy city, concentrating on Quranic commentary and traditional Islamic philosophy and theosophy, which had not been taught in Qum for many years.

His magnetic personality and spiritual presence soon attracted some of the most intelligent and competent of the students to him, and gradually he made the teachings of Mulla Sadra once again a cornerstone of the traditional curriculum. I still have a vivid memory of some of the sessions of his public lectures in one of the mosque-madrasahs of Qum where nearly four hundred students sat at his feet to absorb his wisdom.

The activities of 'Allamah Tabataba'i since he came to Qum have also included frequent visits to Tehran. After the Second World War, when Marxism was fashionable among some of the youth in Tehran, he was the only religious scholar who took the pains to study the philosophical basis of Communism and supply a response to dialectical materialism from the traditional point of view. The fruit of this effort was one of his major works, Usul-i falsafah wa rawish-i ri'alism (The Principles of Philosophy and the Method of Realism), in which he defended realism-in its traditional and medieval sense-against all dialectical philosophies. He also trained a number of disciples who belong to the community of Persians with a modern education.

Since his coming to Qum, 'Allamah Tabataba'i has been indefatigable in his efforts to convey the wisdom and intellectual message of Islam on three different levels: to a large number of traditional students in Qum, who are now scattered throughout Persia and other Shi'ite lands; to a more select group of students whom he has taught gnosis and Sufism in more intimate circles and who have usually met on Thursday evenings at his home or other private places; and also to a group of Persians with a modern education and occasionally non-Persians with whom he has met in Tehran. During the past ten or twelve years there have been regular sessions in Tehran attended by a select group of Persians, and in the fall season by Henry Corbin, sessions in which the most profound and pressing spiritual and intellectual problems have been discussed, and in which I have usually had the role of translator and interpreter. During these Years we have studied with 'Allamah Tabataba'i not only the classical texts of divine wisdom and gnosis but also a whole cycle of what might be called comparative gnosis, in which in each session the sacred texts of one of the major religions, containing mystical and gnostic teachings, such as the Tao Te-Ching, the Upanishads and the Gospel of John, were discussed and compared with Sufism and Islamic gnostic doctrines in general.

'Allamah Tabataba'i has therefore exercised a profound in- fluence in both the traditional and modern circles in Persia. He has tried to create a new intellectual elite among the modern educated classes who wish to be acquainted with Islamic intellectuality as well as with the modern world. Many among his traditional students who belong to the class of ulama have tried to follow his example in this important endeavor. Some of his students, such as Sayyid Jalal al-Din Ashtiyani of Mashhad University and Murtada Mutahhari of Tehran University, are themselves scholars of considerable reputation. 'Allamah Tabataba'i often speaks of others among his students who possess great spiritual qualities but do not manifest themselves outwardly.

In addition to a heavy program of teaching and guidance, 'Allamah Tabataba'i has occupied himself with writing many books and articles which attest to his remarkable intellectual powers and breadth of learning within the world of the traditional Islamic sciences.[23]

Today at his home in Qum the venerable authority devotes nearly all of his time to his Quranic commentary and the direction of some of his best students. He stands as a symbol of what is most permanent in the long tradition of Islamic scholarship and science, and his presence carries a fragrance which can only come from one who has tasted the fruit of Divine Knowledge. He exemplifies in his person the nobility, humility and quest after truth which have characterized the finest Muslim scholars over the ages. His knowledge and its exposition are a testimony to what real Islamic learning is, how profound and how metaphysical, and how different from so many of the shallow expositions of some of the orientalists or the distorted caricatures of so many Muslim modernists. Of course he does not have the awareness of the modern mentality and the nature of the modern world that might be desired, but that could hardly be expected in one whose life experience has been confined to the traditional circles in Persia and Iraq.

* * *

A word must be added about the system of transliteration of Arabic and Persian words and the manner in which reference is made to Islamic sources. In the question of transliteration I have followed the standard system used in most works on Islam (see the table on p. vii), but in making reference to Islamic books I have sought to remain completely faithful to the original manuscript. The author, like most other Persian writers, refers to the very well-known Arabic works in the Persian-speaking world in their Persian form and to the less well-known in the original Arabic. For example, the history of al-Tabari is referred to by the author as Tarikh-i Tabari, using the idafah construction in Persian, which gives the same meaning as the word "of" in English. This may appear somewhat disconcerting to one who knows Arabic but no Persian, but it conveys a feeling for the spiritual and religious climate of Persia where the two languages are used side by side. In any case such references by the author have been transliterated according to the original. I have only sought to make them uniform and to give enough indication in the bibliography to make clear which author and which work is in question.

In the bibliography also, only the works referred to by 'Allamah Tabataba'i as his sources have been included, and not any secondary or even other primary ones which I could have added myself. Also the entry in the bibliography is according to the name of the book and not the author, which has always been the method used in Islamic circles.

For technical reasons diacritical marks on Arabic words which have become common in English, and italics in the case of all Arabic words appearing in the text, have been employed only in the index and at the first appearance of the word. In the end I should like to thank Professor Kenneth Morgan, whose keen interest and commendable patience in this project has made its achievement possible, and Mr. William Chittick, who has helped me greatly in preparing the manuscript for publication.

Seyyed Hossein Nasr

Tehran

Rabi al-awwal, 1390

Urdibihisht, 1350

May, 1971

NOTES

1. See F. Schuon, Light on the Ancient Worlds, translated by Lord Northbourne, Londan, 1965, especially Ch. IX, "Religio Perennis."

2. See S. H. Nasr, Ideals and Realities of Islam, London, 1966, Ch. IV, "Sunnism and Shi'ism."

3. On walayat see S. H. Nasr, Ideals, pp. 161-l62, and the many writings of H. Corbin on Shi'ism, which nearly always turn to this major theme.

4. For a profound analysis and criticism of Ash'arite theology see F. Schuon, "Dilemmas of Theological Speculation," Studies in Comparative Religion, Spring, 1969, pp.66-93.

5. See S. H. Nasr. An Introduction to Islamic Cosmological Doctrines, Cambridge (U.S.A.), 1964, Introduction; also S. H. Nasr, Science and Civilization in Islam, Cambridge (U.S.A.). 1968, Chapter II.

6. This idea was first formulated in an as yet unpublished article of F. Schuon entitled "Images d'Islam," some elements of which can be found in the same author's Das Ewige im Vorganglichkeit, translated by T. Burckhardt, Weilheim/ Oberbayern, 1970, in the Chapter entitled "Blick auf den Islam," pp. 111-129.

7. This term is nearly impossible to translate into English, the closest to an equivalent being the word "grace." if we do not oppose grace to the naturol order as is done in most Christian theological texts. See S. H. Nasr, Three Muslim Sages, Cambridge (U.S.A.). 1964, pp.105-106.

8. See our study "Shi'ism and Sufism: Their Relationship in Essence and in History," Religious Studies, October 1970, pp.229-242; also in our Sufi Essays, Albany. 1972.

9. This position is especially defended by H. Corbin, who has devoted so many penetrating studies to Shi'ism.

10. See H. Corbin's introduction to Sayyid Haydar Amuli, La Philosophie Shi'ite, Tehran-Paris, 1969.

11. The only history of philosophy in Western languages which takes these elements into account is H. Corbin (with the collaboration of S. H. Nasr and O. Yahaya), Histoire de la philosophie islamique, vol.I, Paris, 1963.

12. This question has been treated with great lucidity in F. Schuon, Understanding Islam, translated by D. M. Matheson, London, 1963.

13. See for example J. N. Hollister, The Shi'a of India, London, 1953; A. A. A. Fyzee, Outlines of Muhammadan Law, London, 1887; and N. B. Baillie, A Digest of Moohummudan Law, London, 1887. Of course in Iraq also the British were faced with a mixed Sunni-Shi'ite population but perhaps because of the relatively small size of the country this contact never gave rise to serious scholarly concern with Shi'ite sources as it did in India.

14. We especially have in mind D. M. Donaldson's The Shi'ie Religion, London, 1933, which is still the standard work on Shi'ism in Western universities. Many of the works written on the Shi'ites in India are also by missionaries who were severely opposed to Islam.

15. Some of the works of Corbin dealing more directly with Twelve-Imam Shi'ism itself include: "Pour une morphologie de la spiritualite shi'ite," EranosJahrbuch, XXIX, 1960; "Le combat spirituel du shi'isme," Eranos-Jahrbuch, XXX, 1961; and "Au 'pays' de l'Imam cache, "Eranos-Jahrbuch, XXXII, 1963. Many of Corbin's writings on Shi'ism have been brought together in his forthcoming En Islam iranien.

16. 'Allamah is an honorific term in Arabic, Persian and other Islamic languages meaning "very learned."

17. For my own views on the relationships between Sunnism and Shi'ism see Ideals and Realities of Islam, Ch. VI.

18. On this important question of the difference between the Oriental and Western dialectic see F. Schuon, "La dialectique orientale et son enracinement dans la foi," Logique et Transcendence, Paris, 1970, pp. 129-169.

19. An account in Persian of 'Allamah Tabataba'i by one of his outstanding students, Sayyid Jalal al-Din Ashtiyani, can be found in Ma'arif-i islami, vol. V, 1347 (A. H. solar), pp. 48-50.

20. since the beginning of the reign of Reza Shah the Persians have been using even more than before the solar hegira calendar in addition to the lunar, the former for civil and daily purposes and the latter for religious functions. In the present work all Islamic dates are lunar unless otherwise specified.

21. The title "Sayyid" in 'Allamah Tabataba'i's name is itself an indication of his being a descendant of the Prophet. In Persia the term sayyid (or seyyed) is used exclusively in this sense while in the Arab world it is usually used as the equivalent of "gentleman" or "Mr."

22. On these figures see S. H. Nasr, "The School of Ispahan," "Sadr al-Din Shirazi" and "Sabziwari" in M. M. Sharif (ed), A History of Muslim Philosophy, vol. II, Wiesbaden, 1966.

23. See the bibliography for a complete list of the writings of 'Allamah Tabataba'i.