APPENDIX II
Chapter 4 of this study noted how ‘Ali Naqvi’s reflections on the subject of Karbala and martyrdom of Husayn was organically related to his project of reconfiguration of Islamic theology and praxis.1 Here I provide an illustration of how in his lectures and writings usually the two themes were juxtaposed, and how he employed the powerful symbol of Karbala to the task of religious revival and preservation. In this regard, let me present a representative text “Belief in the Unseen” (Iman bi al-ghayb).2
‘Ali Naqvi’s opening remarks point out the need for addressing this subject. One may recall from the chapter on the “Crisis of Religion” the context from which this need emerged: “Today’s civilized world (mutamaddin dunya) takes pride in that people believe in only what they see. They say that our knowledge is dependent on the empirical (mushahadat). They are not willing to consider the things unseen (an daykhi), although if one is vigilant then it will be known that to limit knowledge to the empirical is not something proper to the distinct qualities of humanity”. It is clear that non-belief in the unseen makes it impossible for people to assent to a belief in God, angels and in the case of Shi‘i theology, in the unseen Imam. After setting up the problem, ‘Ali Naqvi presents his ‘aql-based intellectual response in the following words (quoted at length):
Everyone agrees that the human is comparatively superior to everything else. But from what point of view is this superiority? If seen from the point of view of corporeality (jismiyat) then mountains are many degrees superior. If viewed from the standpoint of bodily growth (nasho numa) trees grow much faster than humans. If observed from the viewpoint of sense-experience (ahsasat) then many animals are ahead of the human: their sight is much sharper than the human’s. If the essential preeminence (jauhar-i imtiyaz) rests on these things then he seems to be lagging behind from other things. Then why is he considered superior?
Now then, if the human being is deemed the crown of creation (ashraf almakhlu qat) then it will have to be accepted that beyond all this there is in him some merit (jauhar)3 which others do not possess. So let us find that special merit. If it is said that it is knowledge (‘ilm) and action (‘amal) –the translation of ‘ilm (knowledge) in Persian is “danistan” (to know) and in Urdu “janana” (to know) – then who says that an animal does not know anything. It knows the place where it resides: If [sent to another location] and made to stand there it will be restless and would not be at peace until it returns to its own place. It recognizes the hand that feeds it and recognizes it well: it will not ask a stranger standing in front for food except the one [it is familiar with]. It knows the food it eats and that is why we do not find sick animals in a jungle. It is only when a human being breeds them that sometimes they get sick. A honey bee makes even boxes without a compass and a fish knows how to swim. In fact, humans have learned these things from animals. Therefore, knowing is not characteristic of humans [alone]. Animals also know much. Then what is that knowledge which is characteristically human?
Pondering over this one understands that animals’ knowledge is restricted to the empirical and sense-experience (mushahadatva mahsusat). I have mentioned that an animal recognizes the hand that feeds it. But it knows only that. If it receives food from a servant it will only know him, not recognizing the master.
Now if a human behaves the same way, taking the very door from which he is fed as his god, assenting to prostrate to the person from whose hands he receive things then there is no difference between him and an animal. The station of human knowledge is elevated and he should find a way to jump across and beyond the four-walled chamber of the empirical and the sense experience. This is why it is stated in the Qur’an that “That is the Book, wherein is no doubt, a guidance to the godfearing who believe in the Unseen.” Now today it is proudly said that we only believe what we see with our eyes. But to what extent is this claim true? Take the example of the material sciences (madi ‘ulum). Do we see matter with our eyes? Have these particles of matter (zarrat-i madah), upon whose existence this science is built, ever been seen?
It is only its effects (asar) and necessities (lavazim) that are observable by the eye through which they [the scientists] have admitted the existence of matter. And when have we said that they believe in the Creator without seeing Him? We also say the same thing: they should see the effects and accept the existence of the Effecter (mu’asir).
The same principle was prevalent in the old days and is prevalent in the contemporary period (daur-i jadid): Our Greek physicians used to observe the pulse to ascertain temperature and doctors [these days] detect temperature in a thermometer. But is the temperature of the patient’s body itself contained in the thermometer? The thermometer is there which can be seen, but they [the doctors] figure out habitually the correspondence (talazum) between the movement of the mercury and the quantity of the temperature. Therefore, through the rational necessity of correspondence, the quantity of the temperature of that body is known through the magnitude of the movement of mercury. What is it? It is the same: to see the effects and discover the effecter.
This search for causality in a child is [present] from its natural beginning.
From the moment the capacity to think (quvvat-isha‘ur ) begins to function within a child, from that very moment he first begins to understand and ask, and immediately thereafter begins to discover. What is this? What is that? There is a profusion of concepts (tasavvurat) that are supplied by its brain (damagh). And then begins the sequence of whys. Why this? Why that? This string ofwhys is sometimes so long that even philosopher-parents find themselves unable to answer. But this is a thirst which the child’s nature feels [the need] to discover the cause of everything. Now from this childhood his nature is resolute that everything has a cause and each effect has an effecter. After growing up, when he asks who is the author (muujid)4 of the whole world (dunya), if you say that it has come into existence on its own and that what he [the grown up child] sees has no inventor beyond it, no cause that has brought it from nothingness (nisti) to existence (hasti), if this response is not against his natural disposition then what is it? That is why the Qur’an says that the divine religion (din-i ilahi) is [human primordial] nature (fitrat), which means that its [the divine religion’s] source (sar cashmah) is the demands of human nature itself, any efforts against which could never yield positive results.
You behold Taj Mahal and praise its builder although you have never seen him. The inventors of the train, airplane, telephone, radio, and all customary machines are praised even when they are absent from our eyes. Then after seeing the whole world if its Creator is conceded, what is [so] novel [or strange] in it, and why is He rejected?
The greatest sign of the Creator which is closest to oneself is one’s soul (nafs). The sun and the moon and everything else in the created order (‘alam-i hasti) is discerned through corporeal eyes and therefore if someone is deprived of eyes then perhaps he would also be considered deficient in his understanding of the Creator (Khaliq). But a human does not know himself by seeing himself, by listening to his voice, by tasting himself, by touching himself, or by smelling himself. Rather it is our existence itself that reveals ourselves to us. And this is itself a sign of the Creator’s sign. In the same way the knowledge of the Creator does not depend upon the eye, ear or hand etc., but requires only the heart and mind. If all the capacities of the senses have halted and it were impossible to see the earth or the sky, the sun or the moon, to the extent that nothing of the universe could be seen, even then he would sense his own existence. And this suffices to accept the existence of the Creator.
Yes, it is often said that without seeing there can only be conjecture (wahm) and opinion (guman), not certainty. But certainty itself is an unseen thing which can only be known through its effects (asar).5 In fact, to the extent that I have discerned, the reality of things (haqaiq-i ashya’) do not affect a human being with their real existence (vujud-i asli); rather their effects are proportionate to stations of understanding. Imagine if there is a lion along your path and you do not have a conception (tasavvur) of a lion. [In this case] you will continue walking without fear or terror. [Imagine now that you do have a conception of a lion and then] somebody says “there is a lion,”: [in this case] even if there is no lion you will be terrorized.
A child is usually afraid of his father. Whenever the father is home he commits no mischief. As soon as the father leaves the house he will create havoc in the house. If somebody says to him, “See your father is here” he will be scared. What is it that has scared him? [It is] the conception of his father’s arrival. Now, the stronger the conception, the greater the impact will be. If it is his peer who breaks the news he will look back [to confirm] and if it is his mother or some other elder from whom he cannot expect jokes, then he would attempt to run as fast as he can [from the place]. It shows that one’s character is in accordance with the degrees of one’s knowledge (madarij-i idrak) (12).
It is evident that ‘Ali Naqvi attempts to prove the reasonability of the “belief in the Unseen” through a number of intellectual arguments. It is important to observe that until this point he uses nothing but intellectual arguments to convince his interlocutors of the reasonability of the Qur’anic and religious demand for the belief in the unseen.6
Having made his intellectual case, ‘Ali Naqvi turns now to the symbolic resources of Islam to reinforce his argument:
Now let us witness the character of those who believe in God. Let us see if they display certainty or not. To us it seems that empirical observation (mushahaydah) is without an effect. Instead it is the belief in the Unseen (ghayb ka ay‘taqad) that has the effect. On the night of emigration (hijrah) Hadrat ‘Ali peacefully slept in the bed of the Prophet while the walls of the house were surrounded by drawn out swords. This siege by the enemies, their flashing swords and terrible words, these were all things of the observable world (‘alam-i shuhud). And what were their goals?To insinuate terror and fear. On the contrary Hadrat ‘Ali was at peace (mutma’in). If there was no sign of any perturbation (iztayrab) then it has to be admitted that it was the effect of belief in the Unseen which dominated the observed reality (mushahaydat) (13).
Along similar lines and to bolster his argument further, he finally brings in examples from Karbala where the belief in the Unseen can be witnessed quite vividly (and is prefigured in the Shi‘i devotional consciousness):
On the soil of Karbala the knowledge of the seen [tells us] that there is an army of at least thirty thousand in front. The thirst of small children and their cries of “I am thirsty” were of the world of the observed reality (mushahaydah). The presence of women and their poor state was obvious. Even more obvious was the youth of ‘Abbas and ‘Ali Akbar, the youth of Qasim, and the beautiful faces of children that were in front of the eyes, all of which demanded that to save one’s life and that of the companions [including the children] one should give allegiance to Yazid. But there was [also] belief in the Unseen Power that was preventing this allegiance. Those were the demands of the observed reality that were subdued, and this was the belief in the Unseen which had made the hardest of sufferings pleasing (14).
He concludes his discussion on the subject with the words that carry strong emotional force for his Shi‘i audience.
In the last moments the fire within chest, dry lips and tongue due to the intensity of thirst, enormity of wounds, boiling fountains of blood and after all this the workings of the blade of a knife on a parched throat, all of this was on the one side and belief in an unseen Being (zat)7 on the other. Even now does anyonehas a right to imagine that there cannot be certainty without seeing (15)?