K

The Logic of Analogy and the Role of the Sufi Shaykh in Post-Marinid Morocco
Author(s): Vincent J. Cornell

Source: International Journal of Middle East Studies, Vol. 15, No. 1 (Feb., 1983), pp. 67-93
Published by: Cambridge University Press
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/162927 .
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Int. J. Middle East Stud. 15 (1983), 67-93 Printed in the United States of America
Vincent J. Cornell
THE
LOGIC
SUFI
SHAYKH
OF ANALOGY
AND THE
IN POST-MARINID
ROLE
OF THE
MOROCCO
In spite of the fact that it has been a favorite subject of scholars for more than
seventy years, the religious history of Morocco, especially concerning the period
before the French protectorate, remains at best incompletely studied and at
worst completely misunderstood. This does not mean, however, that theories and
indeed dogmatic assumptions have not been advanced, most notably in the study
of what has been termed "popular religion," that exotic blend of "orthodox"
scholasticism and "heterodox" praxis that has made "Moroccan Islam" so
interesting.
While more modern works such as that of Eickelman' have included critical
examinations of the works of French and other colonialist scholars and have
pointed out certain social or political prejudices that served to distort many of
their conclusions, most contemporary studies remain based upon the data compiled by these same supposedly discredited and out-of-date colonialists, while
neglecting a reexamination of the primary and secondary Moroccan sources
essential to the provision of a factual basis for any historical reconstruction of
earlier periods. This has resulted in the rather paradoxical situation of critics
unconsciously perpetuating some of the same faulty assumptions that have
provided the foundations for the theories they have criticized.
In the field of anthropology two works, Islam Observed by Clifford Geertz2
and Saints of the Atlas by Ernest Gellner,3 have provided the points of departure
for most modern studies of Islam in Morocco and have served to establish a
reputation for significant scholarship in the scientific study of religion as a
whole.
In Islam Observed Geertz attempts to compare what he sees as the typically
Moroccan mode of religious belief with that of Indonesia, making a welcome
attempt at illustrating the diversity of forms found in what has often been
regarded as a monolithic system. In reducing these forms to significant cultural
symbols, however, he dangerously oversimplifies what he observes (especially in
regard to the situation in Morocco) and basing many of his conclusions on those
of earlier French scholars and on an uncritical implied acceptance of the theories
of Ibn Khalduin put in the context of Weberian sociology, sees in Moroccan
society a sort of dialectical battleground between opposing ideologies. On one
side of the conflict stand the cultured and sophisticated cities like Fez, Marrakech,
or Tetuan, with a religious ethos supposedly leaning toward an "aggressive
? 1983 Cambridge University Press 0020-7438/83/010067-27
$2.50
68
Vincent J. Cornell
fundamentalism" and "an active attempt to impose a seamless orthodoxy on the

entire population."4 Standing against the cities are the tribes, both Berber and
Arab, which supposedly share a common "siyyid complex" centered on the
saint-"a
quasi-mythological
figure ...
at once a sharif ...
and what the
Moroccans call the mul bled- the 'owner'-in a spiritual sense, of the land."5
Further following the logic of dialectics, Geertz attempts to blend the two
ideologies into a specifically Moroccan conception of Islam and concludes that
"Islam in Barbary was-and to a fair extent still is-basically the Islam of saint
worship and moral severity, magical power and aggressive piety."6
Gellner's Saints of the Atlas expands on a similar theme, also with help from
Weber, to distinguish two distinct types of Moroccan religion. The type he calls
"urban religion" is seen to stress:
Scriptureand literacy
Puritanismand the absence of graven images
Strict monotheism
Minimalizationof hierarchyand spiritualequality
Abstentionfrom ritual excess
A tendencytoward moderationand sobriety
A stress on rules rather than emotion.7
"Rural religion," on the other hand, is seen to stress:
Personalizationof religion and anthropolatry
Ritual indulgence
Proliferationof images and symbols of the sacred
Religious pluralism
Local incarnationsof the sacred
Hierarchyand mediation.8
Gellner summarizes his model of the social aspect of religion by saying, "The
town constitutes a society which needs and produces a doctor, whilst the tribe
needs and produces the saint."9
While on a superficial level there is no reason to dispute Gellner's description
of forms of rural religious practice in nineteenth- and twentieth-century Morocco,
even a cursory skimming of Moroccan tarjama literature on the lives of "saints"
would quickly reveal the inaccuracies in the above model of rural and urban
modes of religious belief.
Besides pointing out the necessity of consulting written sources in any study of
literate societies, the conceptual dissonance between the models proposed by
such Western social scientists and what the Moroccans have written about
themselves also points out the necessity of reevaluating the assumptions upon
which they are based. At what point, for example, does an anthropologist's
restructuring of native conceptions of reality in Western terms lose touch with
objective accuracy? Can we automatically assume that popular descriptions of
the "miracles" of saints or the presentation of a spiritual master as the "axis of
his age" are objectively false or conceptually unsophisticated? Can we make the
generalization, as Geertz did, that such miracles are hallucinatory contrivances
manipulated by clever individuals in their search for personal power??1
The Logic of Analogy and the Role of the Sufi Shaykh
69
When one attempts to clarify the exact role of awliya (sing. wall--the
ambiguous but significant Arabic term for which nearly everyone since Westermarck has substituted "saint") in Moroccan society, he must first understand
that many contemporary popular practices and beliefs are the products of a long
historical process leading back many hundreds of years, and that their proliferation centers on a period (fifteenth century A.D./ninth century A.H.)characterized
by what a number of scholars, Geertz and Eickelman included, have called the
"Maraboutic Crisis." This was a time, allegedly, in which "local holy men, or
marabouts, descendants of the Prophet, leaders of sufi brotherhoods, or simply
vivid individuals who had contrived to make something happen-appeared all
over the landscape to launch private bids for power."" These hommes fetiches
are seen to have created a "proliferation of jealous, insular, intensely competitive
hagiogracies, called maraboutic states."12
A study of Moroccan histories of this period reveals the inaccuracy of Geertz's
description and indicates, quite to the contrary, that such "saintly states" were
more the exception than the rule, except for one or two significant cases.3
In spite of the fact that, as will be shown below, overt political activity on the
part of "marabouts" (another partial misnomer for wall) appears to have been
rare, it is nonetheless undeniable that they did have a substantial impact on the
course of events and established a position of prominence in the social life of
Morocco which was to last until the modern era.
The position of this article, as an attempt to find some of the reasons for this
prominence and some of the "hows" and "whys" of the phenomenon of sanctity
in Morocco, will be that holiness is symbolic (a point recognized by Geertz
himself), but instead of merely applying previously formed Western ideas to
specific non-Western situations, the thousand-year-old tradition of sufism in the
Muslim West will be used to describe its own manifestation-illustrated, not
replaced, by concepts and models of logic that have provided a foundation for
the field of symbolic anthropology.
To illustrate the applicability of a model based on tradition, an eighteenthcentury account of the life of the qutb Muhammad Ibn Sulayman al-JazulTwill
be used as both a historic and didactic document that reveals the central role of
the wall in Morocco as the symbolic embodiment of the sum of religious ethics.
The activity of such an individual in the political arena will be seen not as
directed toward the gain of personal power as an end in itself but rather as an
attempt to reestablish ethical norms in a society slipping into chaos.
This attempt at "ethnohistory," then, will comprise three distinct but concurrent levels of analysis:
1. Historically, the prevailing political and social conflicts in the western
Maghrib of the ninth and tenth Islamic centuries will be discussed in order to
portray the environment in which the subject of this study operated.
2. Philosophically, the concept of analogous relationships in Islamic thought
will be discussed and illustrated by recourse to Peirce's semiotics, which will
serve to provide a bridge leading to an understanding of concepts not often
found in Western philosophical logic.
3. Finally, aspects of al-Jazull's sufism will be examined in light of their
70
Vincent J. Cornell
symbolism, to illustrate the role of the wall, not as a fetiche, but as a human
metaphor for what are perceived to be transcendent realities.
MOROCCO
AT THE END
OF THE MARINID
ERA
If a writer of the period were inclined toward seeing a state as an organism, he

would likely have pictured the remains of the Marinid state-what we call
fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Morocco-as a dying, disease-ridden leviathan
attacked by sharks. The formidable empire of the past, which had set cultural
standards throughout the Maghrib, had grown dissipated, weak, and ineffective.
In the words of an anonymous chronicler of the twelfth/seventeenth century,
when the people of the Maghrib looked back on their history they saw that their
rulers had no desire to raise armies and were unable to cross the straits of
Gibraltar to spread the word of Islam or to help their fellow Muslims resist in
al-Andalus.'4 Their good deeds ceased to be recounted and "loss and evil befell
them and their decline in the eyes of the people [an-nas] began."15
Their rulers began to "busy themselves with abandon in [the pursuit of]
pleasures and disregard for affairs of importance."'6 They were dispersed in
many regions and, complacent in a long tradition of obedience, secluded
themselves from their subjects and exercised a laissez-faire stewardship, while
allowing their empire to degenerate into what was basically a confederation of
tribe-client relationships made up of alliances of chiefs and lords of towns only
nominally recognizing the authority of the sultan in Fez.'7
Much of the country had been reduced to nomadism because constant internal
warfare had made farming precarious. Urban centers were strongly fortified and
many towns, once large, had fallen to the level of villages. The Arab tribes of the
northwest, the Riyah, Khulut, Sufyan, and Harith, were often torn in their
allegiances; when economically motivated, they paid tribute to the Portuguese,
who had begun to settle the coast, and when their tribal chauvinism (to borrow
an idea from Ibn Khalduin)overcame them, they reaffirmed their previous ties to
their Islamic rulers.18
The city of Marrakech had for more than a century been a semiindependent
principality ruled by the Hintata family of the High Atlas. In the Middle Atlas
and Tadla regions 'urf (the rule of custom) prevailed over sharT'a, while the
tribes played the politics of segmentarism so thoroughly described by Gellner
and others. Dukkala was a fiefdom ruled by the BanTFarhuin, and in the High
Atlas mountains themselves, feuding and banditry was the order of the day.
Jacques Berque's recently published description of the situation in northern
Morocco a century and a half later could still serve to describe an individual's
view of life in these earlier times:
It was a life of fear ... of perpetualmenace, comprisingaccidents of hunting or
horsemanship,fights in the country,or murderby bandits-not to mentiontyphusor the
plague,all of whichrenderedeven the most short-sightedplansprecarious.Thesenatural
and civil risks (history gives testimonyof them) multipliedthe intensityof passionsreligiouspassionin regardto othersand also bloody and warlikeardor,rapacityand the
taste for adventure.'9
71
Such was the corrupted body of Marinid Morocco as the "sharks" began to
close in. Forces of the Crusade and the Reconquista struck in the fifteenth
century of the Christian era. Tetuan was the first to fall in 1401, sacked by the
Castilians, and its inhabitants sold into slavery. It remained a ruined ghost town
for more than fifty years. Spanish and Portuguese corsairs disrupted commerce.
Sebta (Ceuta) fell to the Portuguese in 1415, while the Marinid Sultan remained
in Fez, lost in his pleasurable pursuits.20
Al-Qasr as-SaghTr fell next in 1458, followed by Aslla in 1471, with five
thousand people, including the sultan's son, taken captive. Tangier fell a few
months later, followed by the last Muslim state in Spain, Granada, in January of
1492.21Within a few years after the building of the Portuguese settlement of
Mazagan (now al-JadTda) in 1502, all the towns along the Moroccan coast
except for Sale lay in Christian hands.
Because of the weakness of central authority, the cities were left to themselves
to repel the Christian invasion. Tetuan (repopulated by Andalusian refugees
under the Granadan commander al-Mandarl) and the new town of Shafshawan
(ruled by the shurafa' of Jabal 'Alam under the family of Ban! Rashld) limited
penetration in the Jebala region and the Rif mountains. Habt (the region of the
northern coastal plains) was defended under the family of the Ban! al-'Aris in
al-Qasr al-Kitama (now al-Qsar al-Kabir). The valley of the river Sous in the
south, with the Anti-Atlas and the southern coastal regions, heretofore made up
of loosely federated tribes of settled Berbers, became unified under the authority
of the SharTf of Tagmadert in the valley of the river Draa.
One can assume that only the overextension of the Portuguese in their
worldwide empire and the involvement of their kings in religious affairs to the
detriment of those of state prevented the collapse of the Marinid state at this
time and allowed an effective resistance to be formed. But whatever fortuitous
circumstances may have occurred, time was provided so that a Moroccan revival
could be born in the precarious border regions.
CHANGING IDEOLOGIES
The fact that post-Marinid Morocco was' going through a profound social
reorganization is strikingly illustrated by the histories of the two dynasties that
shared the period.
The earlier of these dynasties, that of the Ban! Wattas, represented the final
chapter of Berber rule in the Far Maghrib. A branch of the Ban! WasTnZanata,
cousins to the Marinids, whose name they adopted, they arrived in Morocco
during the late Almohad period.22
Fictitiously claiming descent from Yusuf ibn Tashf[n, the great Almoravid
ruler, they seem to have had a propensity for political activity, often on the
losing side. Eventually this clan or large family was absorbed into the Ban!
Marin through intermarriage and settled in the Sanhaja region of the Rif
mountains, from which they provided officials for the court in Fez.
Up to their succession they were known mostly for their court intrigues, which
almost resulted in their annihilation when the last Marinid sultan, 'Abd al-Haqq,
72
Vincent J. Cornell
ordered the massacre of the entire family. Only a few, led by Muhammad ashShaykh, were able to escape and made their way to AsTla.23
Fortunately for the survivors, this act of the sultan infuriated the people of
Fez, who had revered the last great WattasTvizier, Abui Zakariyya, as a valiant
muj&hidin the war against Christian penetration. Biding his time, Muhammad
ash-Shaykh simply waited for the right moment, which came when the Marinid
sultan, leaving taxation in the hands of two unscrupulous Jewish brothers,
imposed the kharij tax upon the descendants of the Prophet living in Fez and
allowed the proceeds to go to the support of Jews rather than Muslims. Fez
revolted, the sultan was publicly butchered by the mob, and the naqTbal-ashraf
was installed as the new ruler.24
Muhammad ash-Shaykh, proclaiming himself the rightful heir (via moral
virtue and blood) to the Marinid throne, rallied the Arab tribes of Habt around
himself, conquered Fez, and established his state in the central and northern
parts of the country.
It is inaccurate to claim that the BanTWattas was a true dynasty, in that they
chose to ignore their separate identity and considered themselves a natural
continuation of the line of Marinid sultans, a fact attested to by the name of
their first sultan himself-Muhammad ash-Shaykh al-WattasT al-MarinT.
It is also clear that their politics were tribally based. Auguste Cour, in a cogent
analysis of the period, saw significance in their use of the term "shaykh" in
referring to the sultan (he claims that it is the first known instance of its use in
court in the Far Maghrib) as alluding to the fact that each Wattasid sultan was
primus inter pares, a patron and protector of the tribes that supported him
rather than an absolute ruler.25
Not able to enjoy the support of the great confederations of Berber tribes that
supported previous Marinid rulers, the Wattasids secured allegiance to themselves
through the use of marriage alliances and the granting of land-use rights (iqta')
as insurance for payment of services rendered. Capped by a corps of appointed

officials (the 'ayan) drawn from the elite of major cities, this system became
popularly known as the makhzan, and was to last in similar form through the
nineteenth century of our era.26
Yet while the Wattasids ruled a state organized along the lines of tribal
politics, they sowed the seeds of an important innovation that was to mature
under their successors. Again according to Cour, the fact that the word shaykh
rather than its Berber counterpart amghar was used signaled the rise of the
dominance of Arab culture in Morocco, a point further illustrated by the fact
that Arab and not Berber tribes often provided the main support for this Berber
regime.27 Even the Rifians in the north, among whom the Wattasids kept their
home castle of Tazita, were only marginally reliable, and were more inclined to
support the shurafa' of Jabal 'Alam, busy with the jihad in the region of
Shafshawan.
One might, however, take Cour's conclusion farther and claim that rather than
asserting the reality of Arab cultural supremacy, the Wattasids, as Berbers
supported by Arabs, were attempting to rise above ethnic identification as a
source of legitimacy-even more dramatically illustrated in the case of their
successors, the Saadians, who were Arabs initially supported by Berbers.
73
The BanTZaydan, or "Saadians," a name given to the shurafa' of Tagmadert

by later generations and rivals for power (who tried to deny their Hasanid
descent by claiming that they came from the family of Hallma, the Prophet's
wet-nurse), came closer than the Wattasids to being the "vivid individuals" that
Geertz describes in the work quoted above. It is important to stress, however,
that they were not "marabouts, " "saints," or leaders of religious brotherhoods,
but instead were fuqaha ', or minor religious scholars, whose descent gave them
a certain spiritual authority in the villages of the Draa Valley in southern
Morocco.
According to tradition28 they were recruited from Yanbui' on the Arabian
Peninsula by SusT Berbers, who wanted some hereditary baraka, or grace, to
protect their groves of date palms. One can assume, from accounts of the period
and practices followed to this day, that their duties involved religious instruction,
solving minor disputes, practicing traditional medicine (using herbal remedies
and religious charms) and employing their baraka and the science of hikma
(spiritual wisdom) to predict or forestall a variety of events.
While they shared certain common beliefs with the Sufis of their time, people
like the shurafa' of Tagmadert often did not share their mystical tradition nor
had tombs installed over their graves as places of pilgrimage, but instead
represented a popular, rural image of fifteenth-century Islamic "orthodoxy."
Exoteric scholars respected up to this day in the Muslim world wrote serious
works on presently condemned practices such as fortune-telling, curing by
charms, and geomancy, and one can discover in a work by an eighteenth-century
Moroccan scholar that the man who set the times for prayer at the Qarawiyyin
Mosque in Fez also served, semiofficially, as an astrologer.29
After consulting all extant primary sources, the Moroccan historian an-Nasiri
concludes that the Sharifian movement began when Abui 'Abd Allah of
Tagmadert, during a visit to Medina, dreamed of two lions entering a tower with
a crowd of people close behind. Taking his vision to a Sufi shaykh he was told
that his two sons would have an important future in his country.30Upon returning
to Sous he began to broadcast the vision among his people, who believed him,
according to an-Nasiri, because of his reputation for honesty, and adopted the
Mahdist title "al-Qa'im bi Amrillah."
It is interesting to note that he received no opposition at this time from either
"marabouts" or leaders of brotherhoods. Indeed, the chief among them in the
Sous, the wall STdTAbu 'Abd Allah Muhammad ibn Mubarak al-AqqawT, at
that time engaged in ransoming prisoners from the Portuguese, refused power
himself when it was offered to him, telling his petitioners instead to rally behind
the "muezzin" of the Draa.31
After meeting with the leaders of the MasmuidaBerbers at TidsTnear the town
of Tarudant, Abu 'Abd Allah al-Qa'im agreed to lead the jihad against the
Portuguese at Agadir and other towns along the southern coast. He then sent his
two sons, Ahmad al-'Araj (The Lame) and Mahammad Amghar (later changed
to ash-Shaykh), to Fez, where they established themselves as teachers of religion
and literature and exhorted the sultan to raise a full jihad in the south.32
Completely occupied with affairs in the north, the sultan, Abfi 'Abd Allah
al-Burtugall (named because he had previously been held as a hostage in
74
Vincent J. Cornell
Portugal) gave the two brothers carte blanche to carry on the jihad in the Sous.
This was the opening they needed that enabled them to transform moral
authority into military authority, opened the gates of Marrakech to them
without a fight, and after they had helped to force the Portuguese out of their
coastal possessions, to create a tidal wave of mass sentiment (in itself a
revolutionary occurrence) that made Mawlay Mahammad ash-Shaykh ashSharif al-Hasani al-Dara?' at-TagmadertT the ruler of a revitalized Morocco
The Sharifian ideology of rule, maintained to this day by the present dynasty
of 'Alawl kings, was the most important innovation legitimized by the Saadians,
who were not its originators but the fortunate beneficiaries of an already wellestablished popular tradition. The popularization of this concept can apparently
be traced to the increased activity of Sufis in rural areas, who had adopted it, in
turn, from the tightly organized communities of shurafa' throughout the country.
After the fall of the Idrisid Dynasty by the eleventh century A.D., the shurafa'
remained influential in Morocco, especially in the city of Fez, occupying a social
position just below that of the rulers, and were included, in the period covered
here, with the fuqaha' (religious scholars), the ashyakh (leaders of different
regional groups found within the city), and the Cayan (appointed officials)
among the significant citizens of the capital.33
By the advent of the rule of the Ban! Wattas, the shurafa' had proliferated
throughout Morocco, either by birth or migration, to the point where they held
considerable influence in the Jebala region and the Rif mountains (the
cAlamiyyfun),the oasis of Tafilalt (the Filaliyyuin or 'AlawTyyufn,who make up
the present ruling dynasty), and the Draa valley (the Ban! Zaydan). As we have
seen, two of these families eventually ruled Morocco, and two were prominent in
the revival of nationalism through their involvement with the jihad.
It was the IdrTsidshurafa' of Fez, however, who commanded the greatest
respect, due to their primacy of place and well-established lineage. These
families, ranked according to strength of lineage and their time of arrival in the
Far Maghrib, eventually comprised a privileged quasi-caste in local society,
supported by substantial funds from the religious waqf, and were grouped under
a leader, or naqTb, usually from the family of al-CAmran?,who arbitrated
between different factions, maintained genealogical records, acted as a judge,
and served as a sort of ombudsman to the ruling family. It was this naqib who
briefly took power prior to the sultanate of Muhammad ash-Shaykh al-WattasT.34
Their most influential position, however, was in the field of education, where
evidence suggests that they had considerable control over the curriculum of alQarawlyyin University and the various madaris, or state-supported schools of
religious instruction. Many of the students of these schools came from the
country, and as we shall see in the case of al-JazfilT, proved instrumental in
disseminating the belief that the shurafa' had a moral right to oversee the affairs
of the country.
The position of the shurafa. was further enhanced in the ninth/fifteenth
century by the "miraculous" rediscovery35 of the tomb of Mawlay IdrTs II,
founder of Fez. This seemingly nationalistic and self-serving act, which resulted
in the creation of a cult built not around a "saint" in the pure sense but around a
religio-political figure (of pure Arab father and Berber mother), so effectively
75
served to increase the prestige of the shurafa' that prominent descendants of the
Prophet began to appear on numerous family trees, taken as eponyms by
families that wished to climb the social ladder.
Such was the social environment in Morocco at the end of the Marinid period.
Tribal loyalty was beginning to give way somewhat to a national consciousness
in the face of an outside threat, a popular idea of the legitimacy of rule was
beginning to form, and the country as a whole, sensing the corruption and
inertia of established authority, began to feel the need for a popular rallying
point of spiritual identity. In the field of politics this identity was provided by the
shurafa', who, when they were able to take power, formalized the makhzan
system created by their predecessors, but extended the concept by making use of
an ideology reminiscent of "divine right"-thus attempting to make themselves
the symbols, not only of a regime or type of government, but also of a
protonational ethos.
WHO WERE MOROCCAN SUFIS?
In the study of historical events it is incumbent upon the researcher to give up

the sterile exercise of interpreting the interpretations of others and make an
effort to examine what exists in the nature of primary data. In the case of
fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Morocco this task is rendered easier by the
availability of data collected by the French in the early years of their protectorate.
Their investigations turned up a number of examples of khabar (informative)
literature on the lives of awliya', of which three stand out as particularly
significant.
The latest and most detailed of these works is Mumattic al-Asmdi' by
Muhammad al-MahdTal-Fias,36 an account of the lives of the principal Shadhili
shaykhs of the tenth and eleventh Islamic centuries. Drawn from other works
that appeared prior to its compilation in the eighteenth century, the MumattTcis
especially valuable in that it offers detailed accounts of the speeches and
activities of these spiritual masters which provide revealing insights into their
lives and their doctrines. The second source, Niashiral-MathinT by Muhammad
al-Qadirl,37 is a rather superficial account of the lives of numerous awliya' and
scholars in the eleventh Islamic century (sixteenth and seventeenth centuries
A.D.). The third source basic to this study is Dawhat al-Niishir by Ibn 'Askar, the
only comprehensive source of information on the lives of awliya' written in the
period being discussed.38
All of these books were quite thoroughly studied by French scholars, who
used them to form some of the theories that remain popular to this day. It
appears, however, that in their concentration upon the lives of those individuals
for whom anecdotes were numerous they may have missed important points. In
attempting to answer the question of what a Sufi of fifteenth- or sixteenthcentury Morocco really was, it is not enough only to study the lives of
luminaries. The boundaries or parameters of one's definition must be established
by a thorough examination of all the data at hand. Such an examination was
accomplished in the present case by making a survey of the Sufis or awliya'
mentioned in the above three works, then organizing them into categories
76
Vincent J. Cornell
relevant to the problems of modern scholarship. A summary of the findings of

this survey follows:
Origins By a margin of more than 2 to 1, the average sufi of Wattasid and early
Saadian Morocco can be found to be from an urban area. By an even greater
margin he can be found to have received a significant part of his religious
instruction in a town or a city, often Fez or Marrakech.
Education By a margin of 15 to 1 the average Sufi was literate, and was often
mentioned as a reputable scholar.
Lineage For most of the fifteenth century, by a margin of 12 to 1, the average
Sufi was not related by birth to the Prophet Muhammad. The percentage of
shurafa' increases in literature dealing with the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries, but even then they are outnumbered by more than 2 to 1.
Reputation By a margin of 5 to 1 for the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries and
even more for later periods, awliya' are mentioned as upholders of the orthodox
Islamic tradition and especially the MalklT shar'ca. Even more significantly,
those who were criticized in the literature were attacked more for political
activity than for religious innovation.
Affiliation By 4 to I the Sufis mentioned in the Moroccan literature became
introduced to doctrine through membership in a zacwiya, or religious lodge,
whether or not they established one themselves. This percentage increases greatly
around the beginning of the seventeenth century, possibly because of the
acceptance of the Jazilite interpretation of ShadhilT doctrine by the Saadian
rulers.
Relations with political authority By a margin of 4 to 1 relations with the court
tended to be either neutral (the majority) or friendly. Of the minority of Sufis
mentioned as having earned the enmity of rulers, the greatest number earned
their standing because of political activity. All Sufis mentioned as being politically
active were founders of zawaya.
From the results of the above survey, it can be assumed that the "average"
Sufi (shaykh, "marabout," murTd,or whatever he may have called himself) in
Morocco during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries was:
1. From an urban area-a finding in direct contradiction to the commonly
held belief that Moroccan sainthood was a purely rural phenomenon.
2. An upholder and defender of Islamic law and the sunna-a contradiction
of Gellner's supposed dichotomy between "doctor" and "saint."
3. Literate and often an established scholar-indicating that for this period, at
least, many "doctors" were also "saints" and vice versa.
4. Not a descendant of the Prophet-contradicting one of the foundations of
Geertz's thesis and indicating that he may have described a popular fiction rather
than a rule.
77
5. An initiated member of an organized zawiya-again in contradiction to

Geertz's "vivid individual" idea. The literature of the period clearly shows that
many awliya', whom modern scholars would call "marabouts," were either sent
by their shaykhs to the regions they were to occupy for purposes of teaching or
spreading doctrine, or simply returned to their native regions for the same
purpose.
6. Basically neutral in regard to established authority-stressing the overtly
nonpolitical nature of most Sufis. The corollary that politically involved Sufis
were members of established zawiyas seems to demolish any possible consideration of the existence of true "maraboutic states," with the exception of that
created by the zawiya of Dila' in the seventeenth century.
There is no intention here to claim that the tribally based zawiya described by
anthropologists did not exist, or that no Sufi was involved in political activity,
especially later in the modern period, or that a Sharifian lineage was not
considered important in certain cases, or that it was not ascribed to awliya' by
the uninitiated and illiterate masses. It is claimed, however, that Gellner's theory
of urban and rural religious types is unsupported by the data, and that descent
from the family of the Prophet, while indeed becoming in later times a certain
popular yardstick for holiness, was not the product of a specifically Moroccan
Sufi ideology or of Moroccan conceptions of the nature of religion. It may have
been adopted by many Sufis as an expedient, but was in no way fundamental to the
concept of sanctity per se.39
Having established, then, the parameters of Sufi participation in Moroccan
society during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, our discussion can now move
to the nature of the phenomenon of sanctity itself.
THE USE OF ANALOGY
IN
SUFI
DOCTRINE
May God glorifyhim who showedus the straightway ... our Prophet,our intercessor
[sic] near God, Muhammadben 'Abd Allah! May He glorify his ancestors,ornaments
of His throne of which only He knows their number!
May God be favorabletowardthe saints,theirsuccessors,who by theirwordsand acts
have transmittedthe principles of the religion, and who, by the exactness of their
transmission, have preserved them from all alteration; those who give Wisdom
[la science] which transmittedfrom generationto generationis a sure guide, without
whichno one is everable to say that they haveaddedor retractedanything,and who have
put in their books the Wisdom that they have carriedin themselves.40
This invocation, similar to others of the period, opens the book Dawhat anNashir by Abu 'Abd Allah SayyidT Muhammad ibn Misbah ash-Sharif alHasanT,more commonly known as Ibn 'Askar. Written around A.D. 1576, it is
one of the most important sources of information about Moroccan Sufism and
perhaps the only extant primary source dealing exhaustively with the awliya' of
the ninth and tenth Islamic centuries.4'
The book is particularly valuable because its author was both Sufi and 'ilim
(or "doctor" and "saint" in Gellner's words), whose mother was a famous Sufi
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Vincent J. Cornell
herself, and whose ancestors, the 'Alami shurafi' of northern Morocco, included
'Abd as-Salam ibn Mashish, the shaykh al-fath and inspiration of Abi' 1-Hasan
ash-ShadhilT.
During his spiritual apprenticeship on the Sufi path, Ibn 'Askar met, studied
with, and received diplomas from the most famous religious authorities of his
day, both in their capacities as official instructors of religion and science (as at
the QarawTyyin)and in their unofficial capacities as spiritual guides (shaykhs).
The margin notes included in the French translation of his work, presumably
lessons taken from his various teachers, provide revealing incidental glimpses of
the Sufi doctrine of his day.
While the question of the definition of Sufism is certainly one of the most
overworked in the western study of Islam, one's answer to it remains important,
in that it provides the rationale for all subsequent interpretations, whether of
doctrine, holiness, or any other manifestation of the Sufi phenomenon. In light of
the continuing confusion it is surprising that Western scholars have not often
relied on a consensus found in many Islamic works, of which some have been
translated into Western languages. Taking the assumption here that the Sufis
themselves are best qualified to authoritatively state their own doctrine, a
common definition of the foundations of tasawwuf will be used here, based on
principles shared by a number of writers in the ShadhilT Sufi tradition.42
This formulation sees Islam as having a three-faceted nature, whose basic form
is presented in the Declaration of Faith (shahada). The first part of the shahada,
"There is no deity but God," defines the first facet-the term Tman-which is
seen as the realization of the fundamental reality of existence-God in His
omnipotence and omnipresence.
The second part of the shahada, "Muhammad is the Messenger of God,"
defines the facet of islam itself-the submission of an individual being to Reality
in word, deed, and even personal existence, in that man is seen both as a creation
of the Divine and as a manifestation of some of His attributes. One could
therefore say that, on a societal level, the first facet, Tman,represents acceptance
of the norms of the religion, while the second facet, islam, represents the practice
of these norms and attitudes as defined by the sunna (practice) of the Prophet
and the structure of accepted Islamic law, or shari'a.
It is in the third facet of religion, ihsdn or perfection of behavior, that Sufism
enters. If Tman, in traditional terms, is to believe in the miraculous, uncreated
message of the Qur'an and a corresponding orientation toward Reality, and if
islam comprises external behavior in conjunction with this belief, then the
perfection of ihsan can be seen to derive from their synthesis, the complete
embodiment of faith and practice in human life. This is exactly what Ibn 'Askar
refers to when he speaks in the above passage of "the saints . . . who by their
words and acts have transmitted the principles of the religion, and who ... have
preserved them from all alteration . . . and have put in their books the wisdom
that they have carried in themselves [italics mine]."

The significance of this traditionally based definition is that it defines the role
of the Sufi (the adept, not the person casually associated with a tarTqa)
symbolically-transhistorically and transsocially-and does not limit the use of
the term to those people belonging to established zawiyas. Such an interpretation
79
can be borne out by the study of any number of the vast body of biographies
from all parts of the Muslim world, which reveal that Sufis often were individuals
following very idiosyncratic paths.
Significant to the present study, however, is that the above interpretation
implies that the perfected Sufi (the shaykh or wall), through his embodiment of
"theory" and practice, may become the imam or murshid (guide) for those of his
generation. He becomes, in other words, a spiritual successor or khaltfa of the
Prophet, and may partake of a certain amount of prophetic inspiration and
grace.
These concepts can be expressed in terms amenable to Western logic by
recourse to the work of Charles Sanders Peirce, a late nineteenth- and early
twentieth-century American philosopher and logician whose work has become
seminal to the modern study of symbolism. In a series of articles written between
1877 and 1910, he set forth a theory of logic as semiotic-a system based on a
formal doctrine of signs.43 In such a doctrine all thought and communication is
seen to be built upon an intricate web of shared perceptions, an idea later made
famous in social psychology by the work of George Herbert Mead.44This matrix
of learned and shared perceptions was seen by Peirce to be most clearly
represented in the field of mathematics and was often presented in terms of
algebraic equations and the symbols of Boolean logic (known today as set
theory).
Peirce saw the sign as the smallest, or most primary logical concept, and called
it a representamen-"something which stands to somebody for something in
some respect or capacity."45The referent of the sign is called its object, and the
particular relationship between a sign and its object is seen to be dependent upon
a previously accepted concept or set of concepts called the interpretant of the
sign.
The above relationship can be illustrated in Islamic symbology, taking as an
example the commonly used phrase referring to the Prophet Muhammad as the
Badr ad-Din or "full moon of the faith," meaning that he reflects the light of the
Divine Essence onto a darkened world much as the moon reflects the light of the
sun. In Peirce's language of signs the word "moon" would be a linguistic symbol,
or a certain type of sign, with the Prophet as its "object." The commonly
understood concept of "reflection" or transmission, which ties the two words
together in meaning, is what Peirce refers to when he speaks of the "interpretant"
of the sign. Further concepts associated with reflection, such as intercession or
purity, would be called by Peirce the "ground" or "idea" of the sign.
While the above example refers to a symbolic relationship, a sign does not
necessarily have to be a symbol. Peirce saw every sign operating as well on one
of three possible levels of abstraction, which he called firstness, secondness, and
thirdness.46
The level of firstness, or "positive qualitative possibility," refers to a situation
of identity between a sign and its object, the kind of relationship existing
between a portrait and its subject or the mathematical expression x = y. Such a
sign is termed, understandably, an icon.47
The level of secondness, or the "being of actual fact," refers to a situation in
which the sign, qualitatively different from its object, "shares" something in
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Vincent J. Cornell
common with it, or leads one automatically to think of the object when
perceiving the sign. Street signs, such as "Stop," "Dead End," or "One Way," are
examples of this relationship. It is called secondness because the perception of
the relation involves a two-step process-"first x, then y." Such a sign with the
quality of secondness, a pointer to something else, is called an index.48
The level of thirdness, consequently, is seen to involve a three-stage process of
cognition, such as in the use of the phrase, "moon of the faith," above. Such a
sign acts through a replica of itself or an alternate sign, called its interpretant, to
refer to one of many possible objects. The fact that an intermediary is involved
in the relation "First x, then y, so z," gives rise to the term "thirdness."Its sign is
called a symbol, and it is expressed mathematically as x - z.49
The point of this discussion of Peirce's logic is not to maintain that it is a
perfect, or even the best model for cognition, but instead to demonstrate that
Western concepts or terms do exist that can satisfactorily describe non-Western
logic without resorting to dogmatic positivism or a denial of objective reality
when dealing with alien symbols.
The great difference between Islamic mysticism and modern science lies in the
fact that science, especially those branches that call themselves behavioral, bases
its conclusions on a concept of observability or measurability to determine the
nature of reality. To use a famous Sufi phrase, it is "in the world and of the
world."
Sufism, on the other hand, operates on the presumption of partial identity or
observability, using a logic based on symbolism to elucidate concepts and
realities out of the reach of sensory faculties. Such a system of reasoning has
been accurately termed by anthropologist Jacques Maquet the "logic of analogy,"
as opposed to the "logic of identity," mentioned above.50 As the Sufis say of
themselves, they are "in the world but not of the world."
If one remembers that mystical identity is by way of analogy, levels of
understanding and subtlety, rather than by way of sensory perception, the nature
of the relationship between the Absolute, religion, and man, often confused by
Western scholars when applied to observed ritual or practice, can be more
readily understood.
Peirce's method, which draws its concepts largely from the field of linguistics,
can usefully be employed to illustrate the relationship between religion and the
Absolute in terms very similar to those employed by Sufi writers. Using the
vocabulary of Peirce's semiotics, one can say that, since the goal of the sufi path
is "union" (tawhTd), or "encounter" (liqa') with the Absolute, the source of the
search, God Himself as Absolute Reality, has something of a "firstness," or
identity inherent in it. This same concept was recognized by sufis as well, and
can be found in phrases like "Allah the One," or in the dogmatic refusal of
muslims to use anything other than abstract linguistic symbols when describing
the Divine Essence or its attributes (a purely iconic conception of strict monotheism).
Religion, in that it points the way or orients an individual like a weathervane
toward the Absolute, has in its turn the idea of "secondness" inherent in its
conception, reflected in the Arabic terms tarTqa(way) or sTra(road, way), which
imply an orientation toward a single destination or goal. To Peirce, this would
81
mean that the way of religion would stand in an indexical relationship to its
object of worship.
Finally the individual within a religion takes on the property of "thirdness"in
relation to his goal, in that it is only the "path" (religious observance) he takes
which leads him to it. This spiritual path is trodden by manipulating (in the case
of the sufi shaykh) or being manipulated by (in the case of the seeker) rituals and
symbolic devotional attitudes in order to retrace the primal unfolding back to its
origin. This activity is negatively expressed by Sufis as the state of fana', or
annihilation of personal attributes (the relations of secondness or thirdness
described above) seen to precede "arrival." The position of the individual as a
"third" is reflected in the Arabic terms salik (traveler, seeker), 'abd (slave), faqTr
(poor one), all of which imply the need for aid and intercession by means of
another. The required other is of course the murshid (guide)-a further confirmation that to Sufis the believer is in a symbolically construed orientation to
his goal.5'
Because in Islam this return cannot take place objectively, in that God and
man can never share an iconic, or physical, resemblance, but only one that is
symbolic (a reflection of attributes), it must be taken by way of analogy. This
can be done by referring to a relative "second" which points the way, in terms of
symbolic behavior, to the Absolute "first."
The primary index or "second" followed by all Muslims is the Qur'an, which
is regarded as the eternal, uncreated message of God-a direct didactic revelation.
To any Muslim then, the Qur'an, in spite of the fact that it came out of the
mouth of the Prophet Muhammad, is not of him, but stands instead in a direct
one-to-one relationship with the God to whom it points. Peirce would call it a
"pure index," or a "dicent indexical sinsign," an object of direct experience for
others providing information about its own object.52
If a Muslim cannot say that the Qur'an is of the Prophet, he may, however,
say that the Prophet is of the Qur'an, in that he is by analogy the living
embodiment and perfect follower of its message, the spotless mirror by which its
"light" or inspiration is reflected. In relation to the Qur'an, then, the Prophet is
a "third," and therefore a symbol or embodiment of Divine Grace. This is what
Sufis refer to when they call him al-Insan al-Kamil, or "The Perfect Man."
Peirce would say that in his lifetime a prophet becomes a "dicent symbol,"53 in
that others associate him with general concepts and ideas (existential and
experiential concepts) that among Muslims are elaborated in books of hadlth
and sira-sayings and biographical accounts that are intended to lead others
toward the center of prophetic awareness.
On another level, however, a prophet can also be regarded as a "second."
Inasmuch as he is seen to be relatively free of uniquely sullying attributes (the
"empty glass" or "spotless mirror," to use common terms) a prophet is in a direct
one-to-one relationship with the revelation that emanates from him. Such a
concept is found behind the Greek word logos, and in Christian ideas of the
"Son of God" and Buddhist notions about the divinity of Gautama. For
Muslims this prophetic receptability is expressed in two of Muhammad's "names
of honor"-Abu '1Qasim (the Distributor of Grace) and Shams ad-DTn(the Sun,
or Illuminator of the Faith).
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Vincent J. Cornell
Any prophet, therefore, analogically speaking, is his revelation; for he is

known by it, associated with it, and defined by its content. He can consequently
become, again analogically, his own "second" (a "book" in Sufi terminology) and
can direct others to the Truth by his own nature and example, independent from
the use of words. In the words of Peirce's semiotics, one could say that since the
Qur'an to each Muslim is an index, containing in itself an orientation toward
the Absolute through lesser symbols called words, the Prophet Muhammad can
stand as both symbol and index. He is a symbol in that his life serves as an
existential model of the Way, and an index in that his behavior alone serves as a
guide, or pointer to the Truth for those who follow him.
The evidence of Moroccan texts such as that quoted above, and the "survivals"
(here this antiquated anthropological term seems to have some real validity) in
the countryside of attitudes now divorced from their original meanings, indicates
that the subtle relationship between the Prophet and his message perceived by
the Sufis, now as foreign to "modern," westernized Muslims as it is to the
"scientific" mind, was not a secret teaching understood by only an initiated few,
but was, in fact, a rather widely (if imperfectly) understood concept on the
popular level. Such a conclusion becomes even stronger when one considers that
membership in a Sufi order was for many years a prerequisite for participation in
many areas of Moroccan society.54
Essential to the Sufi conception of the nature of Reality is the belief that the
wall or shaykh is related by analogy to the Prophet himself; much in the same
way as the Prophet was described above as being related to "his" revelation. In
Peirce's language, the Sufi shaykh, a "third" in relation to the Prophet, who is a
"second" in regard to the Absolute, becomes, by analogous substitution, a
"second" for his followers, and existentially or experientially takes the place of
the Prophet in his own period. Such a man, necessarily the most important
single Sufi in any generation, is commonly referred to as the Qutb, or Central
Axis supporting this entire domain of perceived reality.
The idea of the shaykh or wall as a symbol for the Prophet seems to have been
first fully developed by the great Sufi philosopher MuhyT' ad-Din Ibn al-'ArabT
in the book Fusuis al-Hikam, and was most thoroughly detailed by the
thirteenth-century Sufi CAbdal-Karim al-JllT(or al-G1lani) in his book al-Insan
al-Kamil,55 a work extremely important to later Sufi philosophy.
Al-Jill's summary, toward the end of the book, of the relationship between
"saint" and Prophet quite strikingly expresses in traditional language the
analogical relationship described above, and further serves to illustrate the
absurdity of ignoring the native written tradition of a literate region when
studying the religious practices of its people:
Know that Allah has taught you that the Perfected Man [al-Insan al-Kamil] is the axis
[al-qutb] around whom revolve the spheres of existence from his birth until his death. He
has been one [in essence] as long as there has been existence [and will be so] until the End
of Ends. He varies in appearance, appears in human bodies, and is not named by
reference to another image [i.e., he appears in only one particular form in each
generation].
His original name is Muhammad, his name of honor is Abu'l-Qasim, his description is
'Abd Allah, and his nickname is Shams ad-DTn. Other names belong to him with respect
83
to other appearances,and in every age he has a name associatedwith his appearancein

that age [here "names"refer to attributes]...
The secretof this is that the Divine Commandenableshim to appearin any form;and
the disciple,when he sees him in the imageof Muhammad[the Suratal-Muhammadiyya]
whichis upon him duringhis life, nameshim with this name[Muhammad].If he sees him
in anotherimage and knows that he is Muhammad,he will not call him by the name of
the other image ...
Did you not see him when he appearedin the image of [the Sufi] Shiblt?Shibli said,
"I bear witness that I am the Prophet of God."
His disciplewas a man of insight,and knew him, so he said, "I bear witnessthat you
are the Prophet of God." ...
If it is revealedto you that the Realityof Muhammadis a manifestationin one image

amongall the imagesof men, then you are compelledto considernamingthat imageafter
the Reality of Muhammad,and you are obliged to pattern your behavior after the
possessorof that image[the shaykh]in the sameway that you are obligedto patternyour
behaviorafter Muhammad's[becausethe shaykh'sown behaviorso closely corresponds
to the sunna and to the content of the Qur'an itself] ...
It is assumedthat his natureis manifestedin everyage in the imageof these forms[the
shaykhs]in theirperfectionto exalt theirmissionand to strengthentheirattractiveness[to
others]. They are his successors [khulafaJ] in appearance and he, in essence, is their
reality [my italics].56

After reading this passage it is easier to understand how the veneration of a
wall as a symbol of a higher reality could easily have been confused with "saint
worship" by Western scholars. It should also be clear from the above extract that
the sometimes "groundless" claims of Prophetic descent made by Moroccan
Sufis, and their inclusion by later generations in the ranks of the shurafa', could
well have originally been a further symbolic way used by these Sufis of
expressing a sophisticated spiritual relationship to an uneducated rural public
who saw all nobility or laudable qualities to be defined by one's "origin" at
birth.57
It must never be forgotten that Moroccan "sainthood" differs from its modern
Catholic counterpart in that the transmission of baraka, or grace, is most
effective only when the "saint" is alive. In spite of common assumptions to the
contrary, it has seldom been the case that a man is venerated only after death;
for, as implied in the above selection, what one might call the Mark of Sanctity
(the Suirat al-Muhammadiyya) can only be fully perceived during the course of
one's life.
Two points of view, then, must always be taken into account by the researcher
in any study of either "living" sainthood or the veneration of the tombs and
memory of the dead. Wilaya, or sainthood, first arises in the context of the Sufi
world view and becomes recognized in any individual initially by others in that
environment. Only later does this reputation become recognized by the general
public, who, over the course of time, may interpret it in terms uniquely their
own. Sainthood, then, is most properly both a social-symbolic and a historical
concept, and no single history of a wall's life is sufficient without its transhistorical complement. This perspective becomes even more vital in studies of
periods such as the fifteenth or the sixteenth centuries, for information given in
the primary sources indicates that the level of education of the Moroccan
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Vincent J. Cornell
population, compared to European populations of the same period, was fairly

high, in spite of Geertz's ethnocentric assumption to the contrary.5
The greatest significance of the above passage by al-Jill to the question of
wilaya in Morocco lies in its inclusion of the term khalifa (successor) when
describing the perfected Sufi. In later centuries this term became widely employed
in the Maghrib to the point where khilafa (successorship) came to be defined as
one of the ranks occupied by those who had "arrived" at the Essence. This
definition of the term is clearly indicated by the Moroccan Sufi 'Abd ar-Rahman
al-FasTin his Sharh HIizbal-Barr, or commentary on a long invocation by Abfi'lHasan ash-ShadhilT, when he states that "The existence of sufficiency and the
confirmation of successorship [khilafa] lies in the gift of miracles and [one's]
confirmation on earth according to the degree [of sanctity attained]."59
Another rather striking allusion to the above concept can be found in al-FasT's
reference to the qutb as being the greatest of the "People of Leadership" (ahl
al-imama); imama being a term with obvious political overtones.60
Such caliphal terminology provides circumstantial evidence that in Morocco
at least, and possibly in other parts of the Muslim world in this post-medieval
period, a de facto separation had occurred between realms of the sacred and the
profane. Even though the Sharifian sultan of the sixteenth century, by virtue of
the moral authority (supposedly) inherent in his descent, took on the old caliphal
title of Amir al-Mu'minin (Commander of the Faithful) and became the official
imam, or prayer leader for his subjects, there seems to have always have been the
possibility of opposition from the other "caliphs" of the spirit, the shaykhs or
awliyad, who were popularly seen to embody, following the logic of analogy
described above, the moral virtues and principles of the Islamic faith within
themselves.
From the end of the Marinid period through the first two centuries of
Sharifian rule, this potentiality for conflict gave rise to the creation, in the case
of the greatest awliya' or aqtab, of a de facto khilafat ar-ruhaniyya, or "spiritual
caliphate," which, using as its weapons the Divine Revelation and Command
and the public veneration that accrued from it, was able through its propaganda
to influence the actions of the khilafat as-siyasiyya or "political caliphate" of the
sultan, despite the military force at his disposal.
While Moroccan sources indicate that for the greater part of this period the
two "caliphates" maintained generally neutral relations in regard to each other,
in the few cases in which the "spiritual caliphs," assuming the responsibility for
defining the popular Islamic will, began to adopt some of the characteristics
(such as military force) of the "political caliphs," a situation very dangerous to
the delicate balance between the two was created. It was this loss of balance of
forces that created the situation seen by Geertz and others as the "maraboutic
crisis" just before the onset of cAlawite rule. But in most of the period between
the fifteenth and seventeenth centuries, the creation of "hagiogracies" like the
zawiya of Dila' did not occur. Instead, the period witnessed a transformation of
ideologies, which resulted in the rise of the Sharifian ideology as defined by the
sultans of the Ban? Zaydan (Saadian) dynasty, who, as we saw above, attempted
to more closely coordinate the ideals of moral and political authority by using
the doctrine of the Jazuilite sufis to exalt their status and to create a Moroccan
alternative to the Ottoman Empire. In spite of the later corruption of the
85
Saadian rulers and the weakening of their dynasty after the reign of Ahmad
al-Mansir adh-DhahabT, this ideology, which postulated the shurafa' as protectors of the Moroccan nation, survived to live again in the subsequent dynasty
of 'Alawite sharifs, who reign to this day.
THE Qutb az-Zamin
AS A CATALYST FOR CHANGE
Few figures in any age have been able to achieve the prominence attained by
Shaykh Abfi CAbdAllah Muhammad Ibn 'Abd ar-Rahman Ibn AbT Bakr Ibn
Sulayman al-Jazuill as-Simlal in the Far Maghrib during the period before his
death in 1465. By all measures this compelling and sometimes puzzling personality
was the man of his age in true Hegelian sense, an Axis (qutb) in both the
sociopolitical and religious dimensions, around whose presence orbited nearly all
of the major Moroccan religious figures of his day. To him more than anyone
else in his century does Maghribi mysticism owe its present character and from
the popular extension of his teachings was drawn the Sharifian dynasties'
ideology of rule.
The elaborate introduction of MumattTc al-Asma', Muhammad al-FasT's
biography of the principal shaykhs of al-JazulT's tariqa, sums up the local
perception of the effect his life had on his country:
He was (God be pleased with him) one of the effective scholars, one of the guided
imams, and of those who were noble in the sight of others and in religion ...
He was an Axis [qutb] in all respects, a succor of useful aid, a falling rain, a merciful
inheritance, and a divine imam. God established him in his time [on earth] as a grace for
His servants and as a blessing and inspiration for his country ... He was overflowing in
his aid, of great help to the people, and possessed that special, pure alchemy [al-kimiya]
which changes natures and transforms the copper of lower souls into gold in the quickest
time ...
He helped great numbers of people with it, many important shaykhs came from his
hands, and he revivified the land and the people with it. He renewed the tariqa after
studying its remnants and the veiling of its inspiration, spreading by its means spiritual
poverty, devotion to the remembrance of God, and prayers on the Prophet to the farthest
reaches of the Maghrib.
And there began to follow him from the farthest regions (to some of whom belong the
most sublime mention) an assembly of seekers from his hands numbering 12,665, all of
them gaining abundant blessings depending on their station and on their nearness to him.
He gave his authorization to those of his companions who had learned from him. Then
they separated and went throughout the country taking people to them [into the tariqa],
and their followers multiplied and divided into branches which stretched into the farthest
regions.61
One can immediately discern in the above passage the abbreviated description
of a mass movement comprising thousands of people, led by a charismatic figure
whose activities, simply by their symbolic nature and scope, must have had
profound political implications, all in spite of the fact that al-JazfilTseems to
have overtly done no more than any other great shaykh in the Sufi tradition.
Few dates are provided in the MumattT' except for that of al-Jazuil's death. It
is known from his name, however, that he was born in the village of Simlal in
the region of Jazfila (often known as Gazfila), located in the Sous valley of
86
Vincent J. Cornell
southern Morocco, long a source of famous Sufi shaykhs. It is also mentioned

that he traveled to Fez to pursue his studies instead of to Marrakech, the
traditional center of learning for southern Morocco, since the latter was under
constant threat by the Portuguese and their tribal allies.62
While at Fez, al-JaziilT apparently studied religion and grammar at the
Madrasa as-SaffarTn, still to be seen today near the al-Qarawiyyin mosque,
during which time he is supposed to have become acquainted with Ahmad
Zarruq, later to be an influential shaykh in the Egyptian ShadhilTSufi tradition.
It is also reported, based on stories originating with al-Jazill's father,63that the
young scholar used to keep the door to his room in the madrasa locked at all
times, which led others to believe that he kept a valuable treasure hidden inside.
When his father, out of curiosity, had the door forced open, nothing but the
word "death," repeatedly written on the walls, was found.
According to al-FasT,64al-JazuilT'sprincipal shaykh was Abu 'Abd Allah
Muhammad ash-SharTfBani Amghar, most probably the reigning shaykh of the
ancient zawiya of BanTAmghar at TIt-n-Fitr ('Ayn al-Fitr), not far from the
small city of Azemmour near present-day Casablanca. This association, if true, is
highly significant, for it serves to link him with one of the oldest Maghribi Sufi
orders.
We are not told, however, exactly when Muhammad al-JazilT was supposed to
have studied under the shaykh of the BanTAmghar. We do know that he visited
Fez twice, so it is possible that his formal introduction to Sufism occurred
during the hiatus between his visits. Upon his return to Fez the new Sufi (already
quite spiritually advanced) set to work composing his internationally famous
Dald'il al-Khayrat, with the help, it is said, of a QadirTSufi friend and extracts
taken from books that he found in the library of al-QarawTyyTnUniversity. This
short book, still widely popular throughout the Muslim world, is not philosophical or discursive in nature, but is instead a collection of ahzab for each day
of the week, in which prayers for the Prophet and his family figure predominantly. In a short introduction65al-JaziulTexplains as his purpose for writing the
reunification in one volume of the most effective invocations employed by the
Prophet, his Companions, and past Sufi shaykhs. These statements are then
supported by a collection of hadTthrelating to the special honor that should be
reserved by Muslims for all the family of the Prophet and his descendants (the
Ahl al-Bayt). This concentration upon the Prophet and his descendants was what
gave the Tariqa al-Jazuliyya (sometimes also called ash-Sharfiyya) its greatest
doctrinal innovation and its symbolic political content.
While his doctrinal legacy remains important to ShadhilT Sufism in North
Africa today, al-JazulT'spolitical legacy seems to have been more important in
his own time. As his fame as a gnostic spread, he left Fez a second time and took
the road toward his birthplace, stopping first at Tit-n-Fitr, perhaps in order to
obtain his authorization to teach. He then slowly traveled south to AsfT in
Dukkala, from which he was expelled by the local governor as a seditious
influence. Finally, already accompanied by many disciples, he came to a permanent halt in the region of Shyadma, at the village of Afughal, some thirty
kilometers from the present town of Essaouira and significantly located near the
boundary between Moroccan and Portuguese zones of influence. It was here that
87
al-Jazuili began to be called shaykh and began to gather his thousands of

followers. His biographer al-Fasi takes great care to inform us that he observed
all the precepts and was full of devotion to the Qur'dn and the sunna of the
Prophet.66
The above qualification is necessary because the doctrine of the Jazuiliyyawas
highly personalistic and focused, as did all post-Ibn al-'ArabTtariqas to a certain
extent, on the concept of the Perfect Man. In his particular interpretation alJazulTplainly equates this figure with the true khalifa, who in each generation
partakes of the eternal essence of prophecy. His own identification with the Insan
al-Kamil is plain in the following quotations:
Nothing of me is with you except my body. As for me, I have gone to him [the
Prophet] and have become one with him. I have been perfectedand I have arrived.
I saw the Prophet... and he said to me, "I am the Beautyof the Messengersand you
are the Beauty of the awliya'."
As for what I taughtyou about the GuidedOne (Peace be upon him), he is nearto me
and his authorityis in my hands. He who follows me is his follower,and he who does not
follow me will neverbe his follower.I heardhim (Peace be upon him) say, "Youare the
MahdT.Whoeverdesires to be happy must turn to you."
It was said, "Oh My slave! I have exalted you in eternitywith My grace, and no one
will attainyour favor [with Me]. Oh My slave! I have madeyou lord over the inhabitants
of the East and the West, [those] who have lived before, and [those] who remain."
"Oh My slave! If the angelshad writtena book, and the trees had been theirpens, and
the seas their ink, they would havewrittenof your habitualstateswith the crudeness[and
lack of comprehension]of a small child writing upon a slate."67
From the point of view of analogical reasoning, the relationships alluded to
above relate closely to Peirce's definition of symbolism, the nature of which
probably helped account for the doctrine's quick and complete acceptance by
many social groups. The implicit equation of the shaykh and his disciples with
the Prophet and his Companions was soon expanded to the societal level, which,
as mentioned earlier, opened the door to the new assumptions about political
legitimacy that were to prove so significant to Morocco in the near future. In a
remarkable passage al-Fasi quotes al-JazuilT as saying: ". . . the glorious person is
he who is glorified in his honor [sharaf] and in his lineage [nasab]. I am noble in
lineage [Ana sharifan-nasab]. My ancestor is the Prophet of God. I am nearer to
him than all of God's creation, and my blessednessis in eternity, washed in gold and
silver."68
This masterpiece of double entendre was popularly taken to signify the

inherent superiority of descendants of the Prophet over all others in matters of
legitimacy, and was the reason that the exaltation of Prophetic lineage became
the most remembered aspect of the doctrine of the Jazuiliyya in the minds of the
Moroccan public. This doctrine was reinforced in the Jazfiliyya wird by the
frequent use of prayers for the Prophet Muhammad and his family, and
formalized upon publication of Dala'il al-Khayrit. Later generations were to
claim (incorrectly) that an exalted love for the Prophet and his family was the
essential link between the tarTqasof al-Jazuil and Abi'l-Hasan ash-ShadhilT.69
The attempt to draw a resemblance between the two was carried even further by
88
Vincent J. Cornell
postulating a Hasanid lineage for the shaykh that was of somewhat dubious
accuracy.
As a political doctrine in the hands of some of al-Jazull's followers, the
exaltation of lineage had the effect of eventually rendering all other bases of
temporal authority irrelevant, and had the further effect of dooming the subsequent reign of the family of BanT Wattas almost before it began. Such a
possible consequence may have been recognized by the Marinid rulers themselves,
since the shaykh's death in 1465 has been popularly attributed to poisoning-very
likely by order of the sultan, the Portuguese, or one of their allies.
Such fears, if they did exist, would have been well founded, for, as we have
seen, the tarTqaal-JazulTyya proved to be the spiritual support and source of
propaganda for the first Sharifian dynasty. SidTMubarak, the man who directed
the SusT Berbers to CAbd Allah al-Qa'im, was a disciple of al-JazulT, and
accounts can be found70reporting that Mahammad ash-Shaykh, the first Saadian
ruler of a reunited Morocco, often recited the invocations of the Jazuiliyya.
It must be remembered, however, that such support of a tarTqafor a regime
was limited, and lasted only as long as the Shaykh's successors felt that the
Saadians upheld the principles with which they had allied themselves. As far as
the perceived immorality and duplicity of the Saadian rulers was seen to
increase, the passive support of the Sufi shaykhs became vocal resistance, and by
the time of the interregnums of the early seventeenth century, we see a few of
them in open revolt against the state. It was during this period only, not the full
two hundred years that Geertz assumes, that certain "maraboutic states," such as
Dila', were formed.
What little hard evidence al-FasTgives concerning al-JazulT'sspiritual method
indicates that it stressed religious fundamentals and was highly ethical in
character. An attitude of repentance was regarded as essential for the murld,
since it alone was seen as the key to restoring faith and discipline to a weak and
dissipated humanity. The acquisition of true repentance (tawba) was seen as
manifest in certain readily observable attitudes, including remorse, regret, selfreproach, self-abasement, humility, supplication to God, perseverence in dhikr,
contentment with one's fate and a healthy (noncondemnatory) attitude toward
others.71 Inimical to the Way were attitudes equated with social declinevindictiveness, envy, surprise at events decreed by God, hypocrisy, conceit, love
of praise, and the love of power. One of the minor though symbolically
important rules of the ta'ifa was that new adepts were required to shave their
heads completely to show their repentance, following the tradition that the
Prophet required shaving and circumcision to remove external signs of unbelief.72
Because, in al-JazulT'smind, the formally appointed men of religion were so
unsuited to the task of teaching the Islamic message, it became incumbent upon
the true Sufi shaykh (significantly the mushahid rather than the mujahid) to take
upon himself the responsibility for educating the general public. The message of
the tarTqa,therefore, was tailored for mass consumption and delivered in the
form of rules or commandments, easily understood and memorized by a largely
illiterate population. Once these rules and attitudes had been established in an
and
individual, he (or she) could now truly become one of the master's murTdTn,
later would be empowered to spread these rules to as many of his personal
acquaintances as possible.
89
A partial list of al-Jazuil's ethical regulations includes the following:73

1. Follow the sunna of the Prophetin all aspectsof daily life (whichimpliesthe need
for literacy as a means of access to the corpus of hadTthliterature).
2. Oppose the enemies of God (both the Christiansattackingfrom the sea and the
zindTqand hypocritewho underminethe communityfrom within).
3. Maintaindhikrand prayersfor the Prophet(to reinforcethe properattitudetoward
ultimateRealityand to maintainthe highestof aspirationsby constantlykeepingin mind
the Perfect Man).
4. Hate no one with faith, no matter how ignoranthe may be.
5. Do not neglect prayer.
6. Do not be overbearingor arrogant.
7. Do not exaggerate.
8. Do not love materialwealth.
9. Love the poor and be one of them (here the wordfaqTris used in its literalsense).
10. Learnonly those sciencesthat lead one towardGod (an admonitionagainstalchemy
and counterfeiting-a common Moroccan reaction in the face of political decline).
Like most Sufi ethical doctrines, the commandments of al-JazulTcan clearly be
seen to be based on the Prophetic sunna taken from the accepted books of
hadlth, and as such are acceptable to "exoteric" and "esoteric" scholars alike, the
difference in interpretation between the two lying mainly in their choice of
situations in which to apply them.
The doctrinal equation of Islam with jihad, and the true Muslim with the
mujahid, as when al-JazuilTtells his followers to "oppose the enemies of God,"
was a critical element of the shaykh's doctrine during his lifetime, and remained
important for his followers until the Christian threat was removed after the
battle of WadT al-Makhazin in 1578.
The Sufis of Morocco, who had always been in close contact with their
counterparts in al-Andalus, were intimately aware of the effects of the growing
Christian hatred for the Muslims of Spain, and many writers of the period
strongly attacked the Marinids for not defending them against persecution.74As
Christian conquest led to the colonization of the coastal regions of Morocco, this
concern for the survival of the faith became an alarm which served to ally the
Sufis, as defenders and upholders of the Islamic way of life, with the local rulers
(al-Mandar?, Ban! Rashid, BanT 'Aris, etc.), who were forced to defend their
domains independently, without the assistance of the central power. There are
many descriptions of Sufis in the literature cited above in which they are seen as
recruiters for the jihad, mujahidin themselves, or go-betweens who secured the
safety of local political and religious figures through ransom. As seen above, the
widespread zeal for the jihad that they helped to foster served as the motive force
that propelled the Saadians into power. The added contribution of the cult of the
shurafa' symbolized by Moulay Idris combined with this zeal to unite all tribal
and urban groups for a time in resistance to the invader under the SharTfs,the
first symbol of truly "Moroccan" protonational authority and legitimacy.
Implicit in the above commandments as well lies an unspoken concern about
the disintegration of society and the loss of Islamic principles, which were seen to
provide the limits within which orderly social life could operate. Such a concern
seems to have been the reasons for Ibn 'Askar's75great pains taken to stress the
90
Vincent J. Cornell
"orthodoxy" of the Sufis mentioned in his book and his readiness to condemn
behavioral excesses. It also appears to be the reason why al-FasT,in his account
of al-JazulT'sadoption of prayers for the Prophet Muhammad, mentions that he
learned of their importance from a woman "of great authority and [spiritual]
power in Fez, out of fear of [the evils of] custom [min khawf al-'cda])."76
From clues such as these one can make the educated guess that religious
morality in the post-Marinid period had degenerated to a degree commensurate
with the prevailing disintegration of political structures, and that the corruption
of the last Marinid sultans in the face of gradual Christian conquest caused the
religious elites of both city and country to cast about for some other unifying
symbol.
Al-JazilT, in continuing the time-honored tradition of great Moroccan religious
leaders, who attempt to lead an errant populace back to the clarity and discipline
found in the original Islamic message, provided via his behavior and apparent
sanctity the necessary focus to which all levels of society could be oriented,
making him visible in the surat al-Muhammadiyya to an unprecedented degree.
His exaltation of the family of the Prophet, besides providing the ideology for
the subsequent political activity of the shurafa', also contained the seeds of an
Islamic revival based on the Prophetic sunha. This call to the sunna, as well as
al-Jazuilis attempt to create a mirror image of the Medinan community of
Companions centered about himself, can be recognized in the following exhortation transmitted by al-FasT:
Oh Assembly of Muslims!Be among the communityof the Exalted One (Peace be
upon him), and do not be among his enemiesby disputing[about the Truth],rejecting,
cheating,or by treason.Assemblyof Muslims,your inclinationtowardGod has belonged
to you as a gift from him [the Prophet]who guides you until the end of time, so praise
him.77
A further analogy to the situation of the early Muslim community can be
found in the fact that al-JazulT,like the Prophet before him, sent his followers
out to all parts of the Maghrib to preach his message and to provide models of
behavior to which all could relate, in the hopes of restoring the disintegrating
social order.
The success of all revivalist movements necessarily depends on the shared
perceptions of large numbers of people. In the case of al-Jazaul the shared image
was that of the shaykh of a tariqa in the stirat al-Muhammadiyya, in which his
image and that of the Prophet were symbolically fused into one. This image, first
identified by the adepts of his tariqa and later disseminated and reinforced by the
praise and reverence for his teachings that they brought with them into the
countryside on their missions of salvation, created the conditions necessary for
al-Jazuil to be regarded as the Axis of His Age (al-Qutb az-Zaman) in the public
consciousness, and made him into a powerful living symbol that directed his
nation toward a unity based upon common faith at a time when the need was
particularly intense.
The symbolic association of al-Jazull with the image of the Prophet Muhammad did not die with him. Within weeks after his death it resurfaced in the true
"fetishism" employed by his heretic successor 'Amr ibn Siyaf, who refused to
91
allow the shaykh's burial, but instead carried his coffin about for years as an
object of veneration during his attempt at insurrection in the Shyadma and
Dukkala regions.78 The formal consolidation of the image of al-Jazfill occurred
even later, after the rise of the Saadians, in the redesignation of his tariqa under
the name "at-Tariqa al Jazuliyya ash-Sharifiyya," when the descendants of the
Prophet living at that time equated their own essence with his message, firmly
establishing his qutbanTyya as something transcending the limits of personal
existence.
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA: LOS ANGELES
NOTES
'Dale Eickelman, Moroccan Islam (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1976).
2Clifford Geertz, Islam Observed (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1971).
3Ernest Gellner, Saints of the Atlas (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1969).
4Geertz, Islam Observed, p. 16.
5lbid., p. 50.
6Ibid., p. 15.
7Gellner, Saints of the Atlas, p. 7.
8Ibid., p. 8.
9Ibid.
'?Geertz, Islam Observed, p. 46.
"Ibid.
12Ibid., p. 31.
3These authors' misunderstanding of the wall's role is all the more surprising when one considers
that three major indigenous sources for Moroccan history, two of them contemporary with the
"Maraboutic Crisis," have been translated into French. These contemporary sources are: Muhammad
Ibn 'AlI Ibn Misbah Ibn 'Askar, Dawhat an-Nashir li Mahisin man Kina bi'l Maghrib min
Mashayikh al-Qarn al-CAshir,Mission Scientifique du Maroc, Graulle trans. (Paris: Ernest Leroux,
1913), and Muhammad al-Qadiri, Nashir al-MathanT, Mission Scientifique du Maroc, Graulle and
Maillard trans. (Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1913). An excellent nineteenth-century secondary source is
Ahmad Ibn Khalid an-NasirTas-SalawT, Kitab al-lstiqsi' li Akhbar ad-Duwwal al-Maghrib al-Aqsd',
Direction des Affairs Indig6nes, various translators (Paris: Librarie Ancienne Honore Champion,
1934).
'4Anonymous, Ta'rTkhad-Dawla as-Sa'adTyya ad-Dardi'yya at- TagmadertTyya,Institut des Hautes
Etudes Marocaines, George Colin, Ed. (Rabat: Editions Felix Moncho, 1934).
'5lbid., p. 2.
6lIbid.
'7Auguste Cour, La Dynastie marocaine des Beni Wattas, (Algiers: Universite de Alger, 1920),
pp. 28-45.
'8Ibid., p. 46.
'9Jacques Berque, L'lnterieur du Maghreb (Paris: Editions Gallimard, 1978). p. 150.
20Cour, La Dynastie marocaine, p. 42.
2'An-Nasiri, Kitab al-Istiqsa', "Les Merinides" (Archives Marocaines, vol. 33), p. 500.
22Mention of the arrival of the Ban! Wattas in the Rif mountains is given in 'Abd al-Haqq alBadisT,al-Maqsad ash-SharTf wa'l-Manza' al-Latff fT Dhikr Sulaha' ar-RTf,Archives Marocaines,
vol. 26, George Colin, trans. (Paris: Librarie Ancienne Honor6 Champion, 1926), pp. 35, 37, 77,
113-114, 175.
23An-NasirT,Kitib al-Istiqsa', "Les Merinides," pp. 470-471.
24Ibid., pp. 473-477.
2SCour, La Dynastie marocaine, p. 93.
26Ibid., p. 108.
27Ibid., pp. 110-111.
92
Vincent J. Cornell
28An-NasirT,Kitab al-lstiqsai. "Les Saadiens," pp. 6-7.

29A1-QadirT,Nashir al-MathanL, pp. 236-237.
30An-NasirT,Kitab al-lstiqsa', "Les Saadiens," p. 12.
31Ibid., pp. 14-15.
32Ibid., pp. 16-17.
"Anonymous, Ta'rTkh ad-Dawla as-Sa'adTyya, p. 6.
34Cour, La Dynastie marocaine, pp. 36-37.
35Berque, L'Interieur du Maghreb, p. 163.
36Muhammad al-MahdTal-FasT, Kitab MumattT' al-Asma' fT Dhikr al-JazulTwa at-Tabbac wa ma
lahuma min al-Itba' (Fez; 1313/1893).
37Al-Qadir, Nashir al-MathanT.
38Ibn 'Askar, Dawhat an-Nashir.
39A similar conclusion was drawn by the anthropologist David Hart, who attempted to deal with
the problem of definition by postulating the existence of "big imrabdhen" and "little imrabdhen"
among the saintly families of the Rif (David Hart, The Aith Waryaghar of the Moroccan Rif
[Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1976], pp. 190-191).
40Ibn 'Askar, Dawhat an-Nashir, pp. 11-12.
41E. L6vi-Provencal, Les Historiens des Chorfa (Paris: Emile Larose, 1922), pp. 231-234.
42Anexcellent introduction to mainstream ShadhilTdoctrine as interpreted in the twentieth century
can be found in Fritjof Schuon, Understanding Islam (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1976).
43CharlesSanders Peirce in Justus Buchler, Ed., The Philosophy of Peirce (London: Routledge &
Kegan Paul, 1940), p. 98.
44See George Herbert Mead in Charles Morris, Ed., Mind, Self and Society (Chicago: University
of Chicago Press, 1972).
45Buchler, Philosophy of Peirce, p. 99.
46Ibid., p. 75.
1Ibid., p. 102.
1Ibid., pp. 75, 102.
49Ibid., p. 102.
50Examples of Professor Maquet's ideas can be found in Jacques Maquet, "Meditation in
Contemporary Sri Lanka: Idea and Practice," Journal of Transpersonal Psychology, 7, 2 (1975), and
"The World/Nonworld Dichotomy," in Agehananda Bharati, Ed., The Realm of the Extra-Human:
Ideas and Actions (The Hague: Mouton, 1976).
"One could also mention the famous Qur'anic phrase, Inna li'llahi wa inna ilayhi rani'u7n.
5Buchler, Philosophy of Peirce, p. 118.
"Ibid., p. 117.
54CliffordGeertz, Hildred Geertz, and Lawrence Rosen, Meaning and Order in Moroccan Society
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979), pp. 154-162.
55'Abdal-Karim al-JTlT,al-Insan al-KimilfT Ma'arifat al-A wakhir wa'l-Aw'il (Cairo, 1316/1896).
56Ibid., book II, pp. 46-47.
57Geertzet al., Meaning and Order, pp. 92-101.
"This assumption is implicit throughout Islam Observed.
59CAbdar-Rahman Ibn Muhammad al-Fasi, Sharh Hizb al-Barr (Cairo: Maktaba al-KulYyyaalAzharlyya, 1969), p. 112.
60Ibid., p. 119.
6'Muhammad al-FasT, MumattTCal-Asma', pp. 3-4.
62Ibid., p. 6.
63Ibid.
64Ibid., p. 7.
6Muhammad Ibn Sulayman al-JazulT, Dala'il al-Khayrat (Tunis: Al-Manar, 1964).
66Muhammad al-FasT, Mumattic al-Asma', p. 10.
67Ibid., pp. 4-6.
68Ibid., p. 5.
69Ibid., pp. 7-8.
70See al-Qadiri, Nashir al-MathnT, and an-NasirT, Kitab al-Istiqsa'.
7'Muhammad al-FasT, MumattT' al-Asma', pp. 22-23.

72Ibid., p. 16.
731bid., p. 22.
74For example, see Anonymous, Ta'rTkh ad-Dawla as-Sa'adyya, p. 2.
75Introduction to Ibn 'Askar, Dawhat an-Nashir.
76Muhammad al-FasT, MumattTCal-Asmai, p. 7.
77Ibid., p. 5.
781bid.,p. 12. An-Nasiri, Kitab al-Istiqsa', "Les Merinides," pp. 507-511.
93

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The Logic of Analogy and the Role of the Sufi Shaykh in Post-Marinid Morocco

Author(s): Vincent J. Cornell

fundamentalism" and "an active attempt to impose a seamless orthodoxy on the

at once a sharif ...

and what the

The Logic of Analogy and the Role of the Sufi Shaykh

If a writer of the period were inclined toward seeing a state as an organism, he

The Logic of Analogy and the Role of the Sufi Shaykh

as insurance for payment of services rendered. Capped by a corps of appointed

The Logic of Analogy and the Role of the Sufi Shaykh

The BanTZaydan, or "Saadians," a name given to the shurafa' of Tagmadert

The Logic of Analogy and the Role of the Sufi Shaykh

In the study of historical events it is incumbent upon the researcher to give up

relevant to the problems of modern scholarship. A summary of the findings of

The Logic of Analogy and the Role of the Sufi Shaykh

5. An initiated member of an organized zawiya-again in contradiction to

that they have carried in themselves [italics mine]."

The Logic of Analogy and the Role of the Sufi Shaykh

The Logic of Analogy and the Role of the Sufi Shaykh

Any prophet, therefore, analogically speaking, is his revelation; for he is

The Logic of Analogy and the Role of the Sufi Shaykh

to other appearances,and in every age he has a name associatedwith his appearancein

If it is revealedto you that the Realityof Muhammadis a manifestationin one image

reality [my italics].56

population, compared to European populations of the same period, was fairly

The Logic of Analogy and the Role of the Sufi Shaykh

AS A CATALYST FOR CHANGE

southern Morocco, long a source of famous Sufi shaykhs. It is also mentioned

The Logic of Analogy and the Role of the Sufi Shaykh

al-Jazuili began to be called shaykh and began to gather his thousands of

This masterpiece of double entendre was popularly taken to signify the

The Logic of Analogy and the Role of the Sufi Shaykh

A partial list of al-Jazuil's ethical regulations includes the following:73

The Logic of Analogy and the Role of the Sufi Shaykh

28An-NasirT,Kitab al-lstiqsai. "Les Saadiens," pp. 6-7.

The Logic of Analogy and the Role of the Sufi Shaykh

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