ROUTLEDGE LIBRARY EDITIONS: POLITICS OF ISLAM
RECOGNIZING ISLAM
RECOGNIZING ISLAM
An Anthropologist's Introduction
MICHAEL GILSENAN
Volume 11
First published 1982
This edition first published in 2013
by Routledge
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1982 Michael Gilsenan
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ISBN: 978-0-415-64437-2 (Set)
eISBN: 978-0-203-07906-5 (Set)
ISBN: 978-0-415-83083-6 (Volume 11)
eISBN: 978-0-203-38130-4 (Volume 11)
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RECOGNIZING ISLAM
MICHAEL GILSENAN
Recognizing Islam
AN ANTHROPOLOGIST'S INTRODUCTION
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
Gilsenan, Michael
Recognizing Islam.
1. Islam
I. Title
297 BP161.2
ISBN 0-7099-1119-X
0-7099-1139-4 Pbk
Printed and bound in Great Britain by
Biddles Ltd, Guidford and King's Lynn
CONTENTS
The texture of any book derives from many sources and experiences. Teachers leave their imprint as much in their attitude to the world as in intellectual approaches. A.F.L. Beeston and Albert Hourani and the late Sir E.E. Evans-Pritchard all in their different ways channeled my energies and ideas about Middle Eastern societies and the moral as well as academic complexities that being a student entails. Friends and colleagues who have read the manuscript in whole or in part, in draft or final form, have been invaluable guides even and especially when I took a different path Peter Brown, Clifford Geertz, Ernest Gellner, Abdullah Hammoudi, Geoffrey Hawthorn, John Stewart, Peter von Sivers, and Aram Yengoyan.
I owe to the Social Science Research Council of Great Britain (SSRC) support for six months at CRESM (Centre of Mediterranean Studies) at Aix-en-Provence in 1976, and members of that center were enormously kind and helpful to me. The SSRC also funded a Research Lectureship (19701973) at the University of Manchester in the anthropology department under Emrys Peters for work in and on Lebanese society. From that program comes much of the material within these pages. Earlier, from 19641966, the Social Research Centre of the American University in Cairo supported my work on the Sufi brotherhoods of Egypt, and to them I am very grateful. A most valuable year at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton gave me the opportunity to edit and rewrite the manuscript. Peggy Clarke, Portia Edwards, and Catherine Rhubart could not have given better secretarial help nor have been more accommodating to an endless and unreasonable series of requests for additions and subtractions to what they had impeccably typed and copied. The social sciences division of the institute proved an oasis of calm and sociability and was enormously beneficial to me. My thanks to everyone there for all their encouragement.
The members of the Hamidiya Shaziliya brotherhood of Egypt placed me forever in their debt by their welcoming and generous acceptance of a young and confused graduate student. The people of the village of Berqayl in north Lebanon and other Lebanese friends showed me a different universe. My deep gratitude to them is dyed in sadness at the destruction and brutality that have shattered their world.
Patrick Seale and Mary Bruton have been patient and encouraging above and beyond the call of duty, and I am amazed at their kind perseverance.
Ken Brown, Robin Ostle, and Raoul Weexsteen have kept a watchful eye on my wilder flights, and their support has been vital to me. Alain and Bernice Ricard have been of more help than they can ever know, and to them this book is particularly offered.
Michael Gilsenan
My own experience of Islam began with a surprised and uncomfortable recognition that things are not what they seem.
Two young men of that family met us in the street, walking in the heat of the morning. The green band around their turbans, their flowing cream-coloured outer garments, and their trim beards all signified the holiness and precedence of their position.* Their wealth, from large local landholdings and overseas business in Indonesia, showed in the quality of the fine material of their clothes and in the size and equal elegance of the luxurious house to which we were being guided.
It was all an enchantment, a desert, an oasis, a holy town, an age-old tradition. The fullness of sanctity and a ritualized sense of gracious order and harmony were added to when a student of mine encountered in the street stooped respectfully to kiss the young sherifs' hands as we passed, thus marking his respect and acknowledgment of their position. The world was a perfectly formed magic garden. And I was entranced. All my images of Islam and Arab society were brought unquestioningly together.
The front door slammed behind us. The spell was broken. Our companions swiftly closed the window shutters so that no one could see us, lights were switched on, a Grundig tape recorder played Western pop music, and the strictly forbidden whiskey came out of the cupboard. Turbans were quickly doffed, and there was no talk of religion but only of stifling boredom, the ignorance of local people, the cost of alcohol, and how wonderful life had been in Indonesia.
To a naive adolescent, pious not to say sanctimonious in the face of the culture of this strange and marvelous society newly opened to him, the shock was enormous.
Was the street scene nothing but a scene? A show of holiness, a mere facade maintained by the elite, who had to hide from the very marks and duties of their authoritative position? Such signs of religion and hierarchy were used to dominate others, but, for some of the young sherifs at least, in the isolation of their houses were clearly an almost insupportable burden.
A day later I met the student, a boy in his late teens like myself. He delivered the second blow. We kiss their hands now, he said, but just wait till tomorrow. He was a Nasserist, a word that to the British and sherifian authorities meant subversion, communism, and an enemy to be bitterly resisted. A member of the first generation of peasants to be educated, he belonged to a cultural club in which most of the young men were sympathizers with the cause of the Egyptian president, then at the height of his power. That cause was identified as that of all Arabs against imperialism and the control of conservative and reactionary forces. He would talk to me, but I, too, was part of the apparatus of colonial administration, a fact that he realized much more clearly than I did.