maria dakake - hiding in plain sight

Journal of the American Academy of Religion June 2006, Vol. 74, No. 2, pp. 324–355doi:10.1093/jaarel/lfj086© The Author 2006. Published by Oxford University Press, on behalf of the American Academy of Religion. All rights reserved. For permissions, please e-mail: [email protected] Access publication May 4, 2006

Hiding in Plain Sight: The Practical and Doctrinal Significance of Secrecy in Shi`ite IslamMaria Dakake

To hide and to unveil, to contain and to release—this is the rhythm ofsecrets and also of the sacred.1

AS PAUL JOHNSON makes poetically clear in the introduction to hisstudy of the Afro-Brazilian religion, Candomblè, there is an etymologicaland practical connection between conceptions of the sacred as found inmany religions and the imperative of secrecy with regard to those samesacred realities. The sacred is precisely that which is “secreted” away, pre-served, and protected by silence from the profane and the ordinary, butalso selectively “secreted” or revealed to those properly initiated. Secrecyand the sacred are perhaps understandably most associated in religionsor religious tendencies that have more esoteric conceptions of religioustruth and/or hierarchical notions of human spiritual qualification andaccess to that esoteric truth, as well as in religions affiliated with minor-ity, marginalized, or threatened communities. Secrecy is correspondinglyless pronounced in religions that stress the transparency of religioustruth, are founded upon more egalitarian conceptions of access to reli-gious knowledge and experience, or are socially secure, perhaps even

Maria Massi Dakake is Assistant Professor of Religious Studies at George Mason University inFairfax, Virginia.

1 Johnson 2001: 4.

Dakake: Significance of Secrecy in Shiìte Islam 325

hegemonic, within their major spheres of influence (Johnson gives theexample of Protestantism; we could also give the example of SunniIslam).

Much of the work on secrecy and religion in recent years has beendone in the context of anthropological studies of contemporary religiousgroups, whose use of secrecy is largely related to their minority or mar-ginalized status. The practice of secrecy serves a number of importantaims for such religions—from the need for survival, to the need to deflectsocial criticism, to the desire to attract new members, drawn by the allureof access to secret knowledge and experience and membership in anexclusive society. Given the sociological and anthropological nature ofthese studies, most of the authors devote their efforts precisely to under-standing the social practices and purposes of secrecy, rather than to dis-covering, evaluating, or “exposing” the actual content (real or imagined)of the secrets themselves. In short, they are committed to examiningsecrecy as a “discursive strategy” with practical, social aims and arguethat the phenomenon of secrecy in religion can and should only be stud-ied in this way. Hugh Urban (1998) is concerned with this issue, in part,as a matter of scholarly ethics—seeking to define not only what it is possi-ble for an academic researcher to know, but also what is proper for theresearcher to seek to know, or to disclose, about the object of his/herstudy. At what point, he asks, do the boundaries of the sacred, as definedby the religion in question, have to be respected by the scholar’s agnosticand/or respectful silence?

In this study, I intend to examine the phenomenon of secrecy in avery different, medieval Islamic context—namely, that of Shiìsm in itsformative period. While a number of intellectual and ideological tenden-cies are represented in early Shiìte literature, all groups and tendencieswithin the movement stressed the importance of secrecy regarding theleadership, membership, and doctrines of the Shiìte community. Thisentailed both discreetly concealing controversial doctrines of, or infor-mation about, the Shiìte movement, as well as employing active—and attimes surprisingly deceptive—strategies of “dissimulation” (taqiyyah)with regard to one’s affiliation with it. Many non-Shiìte Muslims andWestern scholars view Shiìte doctrines about secrecy and concealmentskeptically, seeing in them nothing more than a pragmatic tactic forensuring survival in a context of public opprobrium and political perse-cution.2 In this article I will argue that secrecy was more than merely

2 See, for example, Goldziher 1981: 180–181, where he also says that this policy of taqiyyahresulted in a state of “suppressed fury” among the Shiìtes that in turn engendered “unrestrainedhatred and fanaticism” among them.

326 Journal of the American Academy of Religion

pragmatism, that it had both a practical and a doctrinal significance forthe early Shiìte community. To the extent that Shiìtes considered theirunique spiritual beliefs to be esoteric in nature, and their leadership andmembership to be divinely selected on the basis of their intrinsic spiritualcharacter, secrecy was a natural, doctrinal corollary to the sacredness ofboth. Given the controversial nature of such beliefs, and Shiìte opposi-tion (sometimes open, sometimes deferred) to the religio-politicalauthorities of the early Islamic state, secrecy also served as a strategy forsurvival and self-perpetuation.

The doctrinal importance of secrecy in early Shiìsm parallels theimportance of secrecy in other traditions, particularly mystical or esoterictraditions, such as Kabbalah in Judaism or even Sufi mysticism withinIslam itself; and the Shiìte practice of secrecy and dissimulation as astrategy of survival and self-perpetuation has much in common withsimilar tactics employed by other minority or threatened religious com-munities, such as those discussed by Hugh Urban or Paul Johnson. How-ever, the role of secrecy in Shiìsm differs from all of these cases in that itis a historical case—that is, while active dissimulation (taqiyyah) may stillbe employed by Shiìtes today for a variety of practical purposes, thewidespread practice of secrecy and dissimulation was limited primarily tothe early, formative period of Shiìsm, when the revered line of Shiìtespiritual leaders, the Imams, was physically present and actively guidingtheir community. While other scholars have argued for reserving judg-ment on the content of secrecy, while concentrating on the more empiri-cally knowable and verifiable strategies and sociological effects of secrecy,with early Shiìsm, we have a case in which much (if not all) of this con-tent is now published and widely known, and has been for many centu-ries. From this aspect, we are in a much better position in this case toexamine and understand the relationship between the practical and doc-trinal importance of religious secrecy, and between the content of secretsand the social strategies they serve, though, from another aspect, we areat a disadvantage.

While scholars of contemporary religious movements might be deal-ing with walls of secrecy that continue to be maintained, they are alsocapable of witnessing firsthand the tangible practices or effects of secrecy.In our study, we will have to rely on texts and historical reports which are(1) often cast in doctrinal terms, only hinting at the actual social prac-tices, modalities, or effects of secrecy, (2) at times cryptic or seeminglyself-contradictory, and (3) at a significant historical remove from con-temporary Shiìsm. Despite these limitations, however, this focus offersus the opportunity to test the interpretative and analytical value ofcontemporary theories about the function and importance of secrecy in


religion by applying them to the radically different context of historicalShiìsm. Furthermore, because both the doctrinal content and practicalsignificance of secrecy can be studied in this case, we will also be able toassess the relationship between the two.

SUNNI–SHIÌTE DIFFERENCES AND THE DOCTRINAL SIGNIFICANCE OF SECRECY IN SHIÌSM

To begin with, we should contextualize Shiìsm in its conversationwith Sunni Islam. The religious ethos of Sunni Islam is based upon strongnotions of a united religious community (ummah) that collectively pre-served the Qur’an, transmitted Prophetic traditions, and when necessary,made religious and ethical decisions on the basis of the “consensus(ijma`) of the community.” Membership in this community (althoughdisputed as a matter of theological doctrine for centuries) was essentiallybased on the open testament (shahadah) to faith in God and Muhammadand outward conformity to the rituals and laws of Islam. Doctrinal andpractical correctness were located with the majority, and this notionunderlay the Sunni view that the most trustworthy traditions fromMuhammad were those most publicly and widely disseminated and thatthe collective moral inclinations of Muhammad’s generation, in particu-lar, were a legitimate source of religious law. Moreover, the Sunni Islamictradition understood the political successes of Islam, and perhaps alsothe triumph of its own religious perspective within Islam, as signs ofdivine favor and sanction.

While Sunni Islam represents the dominant, majority form of thereligion, Shiìte Islam developed quite early on as a distinct minority reli-gious perspective that philosophically inverted and challenged many ofthese same principles. The starting point of all Shiìte thought is the beliefthat Muhammad’s cousin, son-in-law and close confidant, Àli b. AbiTalib, represented the unique and perfect reservoir of all religious knowl-edge as bequeathed to him by the Prophet. Shiìtes assert that Àli aloneknew the authoritative version of the Qur’an, the order in which theverses were revealed, their correct inward and outward meaning, thehabits, customs, and teachings of Muhammad, and how these precedentsshould be applied to everyday Muslim life. Shiìtes further believe thatÀli’s superior religious knowledge and unrivaled closeness to theProphet were well known throughout the community and that Muhammadpublicly announced his desire for Àli to succeed him in spiritual author-ity over the Muslim community. Thus, when Muhammad’s communityoverlooked Àli for the position of caliph, or successor to Muhammad,they simultaneously contradicted Muhammad’s explicit instructions and


deprived themselves of the benefits of Àli’s superior religious knowledge.The majority, then, far from being the repository of correct doctrine andpractice, had placed themselves in serious religious error and cut them-selves off from true guidance. Twelver Shiìsm, the dominant form ofShiìte thought, asserts that Àli passed this knowledge on to his descen-dants—eleven of whom, along with Àli, came to be designated as thecanonical line of “Imams” or infallible spiritual guides who preserved“true religion” among themselves and their followers and served as acontinuing basis of spiritual charisma for 3 centuries after the death ofMuhammad.

The fact that true religious knowledge resided with the Àlid Imamscame to mean that participation in the “true” religious communitydepended not only on outward testaments of faith or ritual practice, butalso on a deep spiritual attachment to and loyalty or devotion (walayah)toward Àli and his descendants.3 The Imams and their followers cameto see themselves as the spiritual heart or center of the larger Muslimcommunity—a notion symbolically and vividly expressed in Shiìte tra-ditions that liken the Imams and their followers to the Ka`bah inMecca.4 Understanding themselves as the spiritual core of the Muslimcommunity and the sacred vessel of religious truth, Shiìtes were unde-terred by their minority position or the sometimes terrible persecutionthey suffered at the hands of the ruling authorities. Although at variouspoints in Islamic history, the Shiìte perspective came in and out of pop-ularity with ruling dynasties or the intellectual classes, Shiìte traditionsinsist that the number of true Shiìte believers is always small.5 Thesmallness of their number, as well as the cycles of persecution they faced,only strengthened their sense of being an elite and elect community,designated by God for a spiritual mission that would require them tomake difficult but ultimately salvific sacrifices—salvific for themselvesin an otherworldly sense, but also for the survival of true religion andreligious knowledge within a largely misguided Islamic ummah.6 Fromthe Shiìte perspective, then, religious truth resided, not with the majority,

3 See, for example, Barqi 1370AH: 150, h. 68, 69; ̀ Ayyashi 1961, 1: 386, h. 137; Kufi 1992, 1: 139–140,h. 168–169.

4 Ibn Babawayh 1971: 28, h. 95; Kulayni 1983, 2: 26, h. 4, 5, p. 52, h. 3; Barqi 1370AH: 285, h. 425;Ibn Babawayh 1993, 1: 179–180, 409–410.

5 Kulayni 1983, 2: 241–244.6 Shiìte tradition often defined non-Shiìte Muslims as “misguided” Muslims, usually indicating

that they were not full believers, but were also not properly considered unbelievers, or outside of theMuslim community proper. See Kulayni 1983, 2: 24–25, h. 4. For the distinction between unbelief(kufr) and the state of being misguided (dalalah), see Barqi 1370AH: 154–155; Daylami 1988: 124.


but with a small, spiritual elite dwelling within the larger ummah. Spiri-tual righteousness was not proved by worldly success; rather God’s cho-sen ones could expect to be tried with suffering and worldly defeat as partof their spiritual vocation. Religious identity and faith were not based onoutward practice, but on inward love and attachment to the Imams ofthe family of the Prophet.

This profoundly different perspective on the nature of religious truth ledto the development of an apparently contradictory pair of religious impera-tives. One stressed the virtue of martyrdom (shahadah), self-sacrificingwitness for religious truth, amidst a society that had turned away fromit—an ideal most fully glorified in the massacre of Àli’s son and the thirdShiìte Imam, Husayn, but also expressed in the words and actions ofother well-known Shiìte martyrs. The second, by contrast, placed a pre-mium on the survival of Shiìsm’s religious message, and the protectionof the Imams and their disciples who carried the “unadulterated” truth ofIslam within themselves, and so therefore on secrecy, concealment(kitman), and “dissimulation (taqiyyah)” of their true religious views.This emphasis on secrecy was related to issues of both prudent practiceand fundamental religious doctrine and represented an aspect of Shiìtethought in which the two overlapped, each profoundly influencing theother. In fact, the principle of secrecy in Shiìsm underlies and gives acertain unity to many of the distinct, and sometimes peculiar, aspects ofShiìte thought and practice and is deeply embedded in the spiritual per-spective and symbolic matrix of Shiìte thought.

VEILS BEHIND VEILS: WHAT WAS (IS?) THE SECRET IN SHIÌSM?

Giving an overview of Georg Simmel’s early work on secrecy in reli-gion, Johnson identifies four types of religious groups practicing secrecy:(1) a hidden group of people; (2) a group composed of “public” personswho hide their religious affiliation as a group; (3) a group whose mem-bers’ identities are known, but whose rituals or “conditions for member-ship” are hidden; and (4) a group whose “existence, membership, andprocedures are public, but whose interpretations of those procedures areregarded as secret.”7 None of these categories makes for an easy fit withearly Shiìsm. The group was well known to exist; its leaders and leadingmembers, while occasionally striving to conceal their identities (hencemaking it nearly fit the second category), were often widely known to be

7 Johnson 2001: 27.


affiliated with Shiìsm. There were few official “rituals” that distinguishedShiìtes from Sunnis in its early history; it was rather their religio-politicalviews, and the belief that their Imam was the locus of legitimate religiousand political authority over the Muslim community and the sole sourceof Prophetic knowledge and charisma that had to remain hidden. Thiswould seem to place Shiìtes, again only partially and imperfectly, in thefourth category as well. Perhaps it is most important to note that, forShiìtes, what remained secret and what could be said in public changedover time. In other words, the boundaries of secrecy shifted in relation toShiìtes’ changing historical circumstances.

The religio-political claims of the first three Imams and their follow-ers were generally well known; but after the devastating massacre ofHusayn and his followers at Karbala in the year 61/680, both the Shiìteleadership and its followers seem to have gone largely underground, or atleast to have downplayed their religio-political perspectives, even iftheir pro-Àlid sympathies were well known. As persecution of theShiìtes intensified in the later Umayyad era (early second/eighth cen-tury), the most important “secret” that had to be kept from the largerIslamic public was the identity of the living Imam. Shiìtes considered theregnant Imam to be the living embodiment of Prophetic charisma at anygiven time, and so the only true and infallible spiritual guide within theIslamic community. His very presence was said, in some traditions, to bea support for the world without which, it would cease to exist.8 Thus hissafety, and the safe transferal of his authority to his successor upon hisdeath, had to be insured and safeguarded above all else. The unparalleledspiritual authority the Imams had in the eyes of their followers, and theirconcomitant claims that all authority over the Islamic community out-side of themselves was intrinsically illegitimate, were, of course, politi-cally subversive views that were not tolerated by the ruling caliphs andauthorities; hence both the identity of the Shiìte Imam, and the nature ofhis authority, had to be treated with sensitivity by both the Imam himselfand his followers. Moreover, a belief in the Imams’ absolute authorityalso entailed a belief in the culpable error of those who pretended to exer-cise authority over the community in the Imams’ rightful stead (includ-ing the first two revered caliphs of the Islamic tradition—Abu Bakr andÙmar), as well as of the majority of Muslims (including the Prophet’srevered companions) who recognized the pretenders’ authority. ThusShiìte views regarding the Imams’ authority were both politically dan-gerous to the ruling powers and religiously offensive to many Muslims.

8 See, for example, Kulayni 1983, 1: 252–253, h. 1.


Throughout the second/eighth and third/ninth centuries, the suc-cessive Imams were hidden in one form or another. The fifth andsixth Imams (al-Baqir and al-[adiq) lived fairly public lives as widely-recognized scholarly religious authorities, but reportedly attempted to“hide” their leadership of the Shiìte community, as well as their secretteachings meant only for their Shiìte disciples. The seventh through elev-enth Imams lived in a more physical form of “absence,” for these laterImams spent most of their years either as prisoners of the reigningÀbbasid caliphs, or else as “honored” members of their court—unableto leave the constant surveillance and virtual “house arrest” of theÀbbasids and their entourage. At the end of the third/ninth century,however, the Twelfth Imam, reportedly seen by less than a handful ofShiìtes, was believed to have gone into nearly complete hiding immedi-ately after his birth, communicating with the Shiìte community onlythrough a series of four intermediaries. When the last of these intermedi-aries died in the first half of the fourth /tenth century, the Twelfth Imamis believed to have entered a state of full “occultation (ghaybah).” Thisnew development raised the idea of the “hiddenness” of the Imam to anew level—this was both a mystical and indefinite form of hiding, for thelast Imam was believed to exist on earth in a real but physically intangi-ble, ageless and timeless state, guiding the Shiìte community through acontinuous but imperceptible form of inspiration, revealing himself onlyin dreams and visions to the spiritually worthy and not leaving his stateof occultation until he rises to herald in the events of the end-times.

Hence while the primary “secret” of Shiìsm was the nature and identityof the Imams themselves, the boundary of this secrecy shifted over time. Atfirst the Imam was a well-known public figure, whose inward spiritual qual-ities, teachings, and leadership alone were kept hidden; subsequently, theImam becomes “physically,” if partially, hidden through political incarcera-tion and surveillance; finally, the Twelfth Imam becomes in every way a hid-den reality—hidden absolutely, indefinitely, and existentially.

In the century after the “greater occultation,” we witness the collec-tion, publication, and “canonization” of the traditions and teaching ofthe Imams, as well as the formulation, of official Shiìte books of theol-ogy and law. While this is certainly due, in large part, to the rise of apro-Shiìte dynasty in control of the caliphal center at Baghdad at thissame time, we should also consider the extent to which this new open-ness was facilitated by the very hiddenness of the Imam. As long as theImams had been physically present, the idea that one such Imam wouldeventually rise up to restore authority over the Islamic community to thefamily of the Prophet represented a continuous and imminent threat tothe ruling caliphs. After the occultation of the Twelfth Imam, however,


this future rising was redefined in more eschatological and less immediatepolitical terms; and the efforts of Shiìte scholars in the post-Occultationperiod to codify the Imams’ teachings as a substitute for their direct guid-ance, implicitly suggested that this future rising was expected only in avery distant, almost mythic, apocalyptic future. With the immediatepolitical threat of Shiìsm significantly diminished in the eyes of thereigning Islamic authorities, Shiìtes’ ability to be open about their iden-tity and beliefs correspondingly increased.

This dynamic, while sui generis in many ways, nonetheless has someparallels with similar processes identified by Johnson in his study of theCandomblè in Brazil. He notes a somewhat analogous pattern by whichthe Candomblè religion, as it became more socially acceptable and legallytolerated, also became more public about its own existence, doctrines, andat least some of its practices. But as some of what was formerly hiddenbecame open, or even deliberately displayed in public, other “secrets”moved to a deeper level of hiddenness—obscured not only by the silenceof the initiated, but also by the distracting display of other, no longer hid-den, ritual procedures. In Shiìsm, as the teachings and doctrines of theformer Imams became openly published and confessed by many Shiìtes,the most secret thing of all—the Imam himself and his infallible guid-ance—became openly acknowledged but hidden beyond reach.9

Johnson’s study of the Candomblè, like Urban’s study of the Kartabhajagroup in India, suggests that this parallel movement toward socialacceptability and confessional openness is often accompanied by a corre-sponding attempt to move the most secret and/or controversial practicesand teaching into an even deeper state of hiddenness—a phenomenonapparently witnessed in the Shiìte case in the form of the full occultationof the Twelfth Imam. But was there something more that went into “deepoccultation” with the Imam himself? Was the secret knowledge alludedto in Shiìte tradition merely the practical knowledge of the Imam’s iden-tity or the identity of his followers, was it knowledge of the Imams’ supe-rior interpretations of the Qur’an, or was it something still deeper—anunspeakable, mystical gnosis that only a minority even of Shiìtes couldcomprehend? The largely conservative and rationalist architects of post-Occultation Imami Shiìte theology and law sought to discredit thosewho claimed or suspected this last possibility, and made efforts to down-play or excise the more supernatural and/or controversial teachings

9 Here, too, we might mention an interesting parallel with Hugh Urban’s observation that as theactual teachings of the Kartabhaja masters were published and made accessible to the larger public,the inner meaning of those teachings continued to be hidden and accessible only to the initiatedthrough oral transmission from a living guru (see Urban 1998: 236).


ascribed to the Imams, many of which were put into circulation by disci-ples with questionable or exaggerated interpretations of the Imams’authority. While the inaccessibility of the Imams certainly allowed anumber of false teachings to flourish among certain extremist Shiìtegroups, the extent to which Shiìte scholars in the decades after the occul-tation sought to eliminate controversial or problematic teachings recallssomething of the “sanitizing” process Hugh Urban describes as takingplace in certain religions as they attempt to adopt a more public andacceptable face.10 Yet regardless of whether this mystical and esoteric leg-acy actually existed, the belief in and transmission of this legacy wasnever entirely or permanently suppressed. The fourteenth century mysti-cal Shiìte thinker, Haydar al-Amuli, and the Shiìte theosophical Schoolof Isfahan a few centuries later, would revive interest in gnosis and mysti-cism as an intrinsic, if hidden part of the Imams’ legacy. We cannot hereevaluate this later development fully, but we should consider how theselayers of secrecy and their historical dance of concealment and revela-tion, suppression and re-emergence, bear a certain resemblance to thefunction of secrecy as described in other religious contexts.

SECRECY AS A SPIRITUAL IDEAL IN SHIÌTE HADITH LITERATURE

Kulayni’s canonical collection of Twelver Shiìte tradition, al-Kafi,has two chapters on taqiyyah and kitman, respectively. While the termsare often used rather synonymously—for example, they are both juxta-posed with the negative quality of idhaàh, or the indiscriminate dis-semination of Shiìte views—taqiyyah pertains primarily to anindividual’s efforts to conceal the identity of the Imam, or his/her ownreligious affiliation to Shiìsm, while kitman more commonly refers toconcealing the religious teachings of the Imams, especially when theywould be viewed as particularly controversial by the non-Shiìte majority.The traditions found in Kulayni’s chapter on taqiyyah and kitman leavelittle room to doubt the essential role that secrecy played in Shiìte reli-gious life. We are told, for example, that a person who has no taqiyyahhas no religion (din)11 and no faith (iman),12 that God is worshipped by

10 See Urban 1998: 228–229.11 Kulayni 1983, 2: 220, h. 2. Note that this idea is also found in Kharijite tradition. The Kharijites,

like the Shiìtes, represented a minority religious perspective within the Islamic community, andfaced similar state persecution. However, Kharijites were more likely to express their views to thelarger Islamic society—often violently.

12 Kulayni 1983, 2: 220–222, h. 5, 12. See also Himyari 1993: 25.


nothing more beloved to Him than taqiyyah,13 and that concealing thesecrets of Shiìte doctrine (kitman) represents nothing less than “jihad (holystruggle) in the path of God.”14 In fact, so long as the forces of religiousoppression and subversion hold dominance over the Islamic community,one tradition states, God can only truly be worshipped in secret.15 In seekingto legitimate the practice of taqiyyah, Shiìte tradition invokes a number ofprophetic precedents. It cites, for example, the Qur’anic passage in whichMoses is told not to revile the gods of the unbelievers, lest they retaliate byreviling Moses’ one, true God.16 Perhaps most poignantly, Shiìte traditionscompare the situation of the Shiìtes to that of the Qur’anic “people of thecave (a5hab al-kahf)”—a group of believing men, living in profoundly irre-ligious and immoral times, who slept hidden in a cave for three hundredyears, before being miraculously revived when the religious climate hadchanged.17 As these traditions assert, the vocation of the a5hab al-kahf wasnot to openly confront the religious corruption of their time, but rather tohide in the remoteness of a cave, where their religious belief was preservedthrough a supernatural slumber—a perfect metaphor for hiddenness andsilence in the interests of preserving religious truth.18

In Shiìsm, as in other religious traditions, secrecy and hiddenness areassociated with the mystical and esoteric tendencies within those reli-gions, as well as with the general idea that certain forms of spiritualknowledge could not be understood or tolerated by all, and Shiìte tradi-tions speak explicitly of the difficulty of the Imams’ teachings.19 LikeJewish Kabbalists and other mystical groups, Shiìtes held that these moreesoteric doctrines were concealed or encoded within the literal messageof accepted scriptural texts, but that they alone held the keys to unlockthem. In fact, Shiìsm developed, quite early on, an elaborate system ofesoteric Qur’an interpretation (ta’wil) that demonstrated the rootednessof their perspective in the sacred Qur’anic text. However, taqiyyah andkitman in the Shiìte perspective were not just about keeping esotericdoctrines out of the hands of the unworthy, they were also about sur-vival—survival of the Imams, their community of disciples, and throughthem, their teachings. If the doctrinal importance of secrecy was related

13 Kulayni 1983, 2: 220, h. 4.14 Kulayni 1983, 2: 228–229, h. 16.15 Kulayni 1983, 2: 221, h. 7.16 Kulayni 1983, 2: 126, h. 3, commenting on Qur’an VI:108.17 Qur’an XVIII: 9–26.18 Kulayni 1983, 2: 221, h. 8; Kahili 1951–52: 114.19 Traditions to this effect are cited widely throughout Shiìte literature, see Kulayni 1983, 1: 466–

468, h. 1, 2, 4; Majlisi 1957–73, 2: 183–197, 208–213; Hadrami 1951–52: 65.


to the esoteric content of Shiìte teachings, it was also connected to thenotion that the survival and preservation of the Shiìte tradition was agood in and of itself. Shiìte tradition considered failure to exerciseproper secrecy with regard to sectarian issues a moral crime of great mag-nitude, and one set of traditions dramatically equates revealing thesecrets of the Imams with “killing” them,20 presumably because suchindiscretions placed the Imam and his followers in mortal danger.

The fifth and sixth Shiìte Imams, Muhammad al-Baqir (d. 117/733)and his son, Ja`far al-[adiq (d. 148/765), who were the most public fig-ures among all of the twelve Imams, and also the primary advocates oftaqiyyah and kitman in the hadith literature, seem aware of the tensionbetween their emphasis on secrecy and survival, and the noble examplesof martyrdom from the Shiìte past. One disciple questioned al-[adiqabout a well-known statement from Àli in which he permitted his fol-lowers to curse him under compulsion, but never to religiously dissociatefrom him. Yet, when the disciple asks al-[adiq if it was really required tochoose death over dissociation from Àli, al-[adiq denies this, citing theexample of the pro-Shiìte figure, Àmmar b. Yasir, who in the early daysof Islam had reverted to outward pagan practice in order to avoid perse-cution.21 Al-[adiq even questions the stoic martyrdom of the earlyShiìte, Maytham al-Tamar, wondering aloud why he did not choose thepath of taqiyyah.22 Al-Baqir seems more inclined to view both martyr-dom and taqiyyah as equally worthwhile choices. When told that twoShiìtes had been seized and compelled to renounce their allegiance toÀli, and that one had done so and was set free while the other hadrefused and was killed, the Imam remarked that the first man was well-versed in his religion (knowing the wisdom of taqiyyah), while the sec-ond was “eager for paradise.”23

THE PRACTICE OF SECRECY

Despite the dialectical tension between the ideal of religious martyrdomor “witnessing” and the imperative of secrecy and discretion, the ideathat Shiìte teachings and Shiìte identity were to remain secret was intel-lectually and doctrinally consistent with Shiìsm’s emphasis on esotericknowledge and with Shiìte elitist and electionist notions of their ownidentity and hierarchical views regarding access to religious knowledge.

20 Barqi 1370AH: 256. See also, Himyari 1993: 23.21 Kulayni 1983, 2: 222, h. 10.22 Kulayni 1983, 2: 223, h. 15.23 Kulayni 1983, 2: 224, h. 21.


But sociologists of religion have also identified secrecy as a “discursivestrategy” with a number of tangible, social uses and particular sociologi-cal effects.24 Hugh Urban, for example, discusses the use of secrecy as astrategy for the accumulation of “cultural” or “social” capital, particu-larly among groups disenfranchised or marginalized in the dominantsocial hierarchies of their environment. In the context of the Kartabhajagroup that is the focus of his study, he theorizes that the sense of belong-ing to a “secret society” or of being a member of a hidden elite withexclusive access to religious secrets acted as a form of compensation forthe socioeconomic marginality and helplessness of many of the group’smembers, helping the movement to thrive among the lower socialclasses.25 Urban and Johnson also relate the phenomenon of secrecy tothe need among small religious groups to define boundaries of groupmembership, establish internal hierarchies, and foster strong bondswithin the group.26 Finally, following Foucault, they also argue thatsecrecy has dual and somewhat paradoxical sociopolitical uses: it can“reinforce” and “mystify” the authority of existing elites, helping to fur-ther establish their dominance, but may also work to “subvert, challengeand undermine”27 existing power structures by creating a “hermeneuticspace”28 or an “area of tolerance” in which alternate or subversive socialstructures or religious interpretations might dwell, as they seek to consol-idate themselves and draw in new members.

In the Shiìte case, it is clear that some similar sociological processesare at work as well. However, there are also important distinctions tonote. Shiìtes were certainly a persecuted religious minority throughoutmuch of their early history, but there is no clear correlation with other,non-religious sources of marginality (socioeconomic, racial, ethnic, andso on). While some early pro-Àlid tribesmen may have been motivatedby economic and social disadvantages they faced because of the tribalnepotism of Àli’s caliphal predecessor, Ùthman, and while Shiìte angerat Umayyad officials was occasionally fueled by economic grievances,29 abrief survey of the names found in Shiìte biographical dictionaries sug-gests that many Shiìtes were drawn from the middle classes of merchants

24 See Urban 1998: 210–213; Wasserstrom 1999: 241 and Johnson 2001: 7–8.25 Urban 1998: 210, 219–220, 236. See also Johnson 2001: 79.26 Urban 1998: 221, 236; Johnson 2001: 17.27 Urban 1998: 221–222.28 Johnson 2001: 5.29 See, for example, \abari 1964: 113, where the early Shiìte martyr, Hujr b. Àdi’s protest against

the Umayyad governor is supported by others angry at the government’s withholding of stipendsand rations.


and craftsmen, and many leading members of the community hailedfrom prominent families. There certainly were poor Shiìtes, but thereis no indication that their poverty provided the sociopolitical impulsefor their religious affiliation. However, a number of Shiìte traditionsdo suggest that the Shiìte sense of membership in a group of religiouselites may have served to ease their religio-political frustration and givemeaning to their religious struggle and persecution; and while Urbansuggests that secrecy might help a religious minority conceal its small-ness from its own members and outsiders,30 Shiìtes seemed to takespiritual solace in the belief that the number of true believers is alwayssmall.31

Secrecy, however, certainly does seem related to the process ofboundary formation and the establishment of internal hierarchies inearly Shiìsm. Not only did membership in the group mean access to theImams’ secret teachings withheld from the general public, it also requiredthat the disciple keep those secrets hidden, and the practices of taqiyyahand kitman are presented as essential, qualifying virtues of the Shiìtebeliever.32 Moreover, the extent to which one was required to practicetaqiyyah was said to be directly related to the level of one’s spiritualadvancement, with one tradition stating that the closer one comes to theknowledge of the true authority of the Shiìte Imams, the more intensethe requirement of taqiyyah.33 It is often pointed out that Shiìsm is nottechnically a “sect” of Islam, and does not fit the Weberian definition ofthis term. This is so because Shiìsm pre-dates the majority perspective ofSunnism as an organized system of religious views, and so cannot be saidto have seceded from an existing “orthodox” community. Moreover,Shiìtes always considered themselves to be part of the larger Islamicummah, even if they have tended to view themselves as the best part ofthat ummah—preserving the pure and unadulterated message of Islamwithin a larger Islamic community that has neglected some if its mostessential aspects. In one curious tradition, al-Baqir likens the minorityShiìte community to a single white hair on a black bull, or else to a singleblack hair on a white bull.34 Shiìtes formed part of the collective of theIslamic community, just as the individual hairs on the bull collectivelyformed his coat. Yet as the single white hair on the black bull, they repre-sented that community’s purest part; as the single black hair on the white

30 Urban 1998: 245.31 Barqi 1370AH: 120, h. 95; Kulayni 1983, 2: 243, h. 5.32 See, for example, Majlisi 1957–73, 68: 149, h. 1.33 Kulayni 1983, 2: 17.34 Majlisi 1957–73, 68: 85–86, h. 9, 11.


bull, they represented its most inward and hidden aspect. They werefrom one perspective an intrinsic part of the Islamic community, andfrom another, its inversion.

The boundary between the Shiìte community and the non-Shiìtemajority was a “perforated” one; at a certain level and to a certain degree,Shiìtes were expected to intermingle with the larger Islamic community,participating with them in certain religious rituals and showing charityand benevolence toward them as their brothers in Islam. It was access tothe secret teachings of the Imams that served as a source of solidarityamong the Shiìtes, and marked a boundary between Shiìtes and non-Shiìtes that was ideally invisible to non-Shiìtes. Secrecy thus entailednot only concealing the Imams’ teachings, but also one’s own identity byco-existing peacefully with the non-Shiìte majority—neither seekingconverts among them nor offending their religious sensibilities by speak-ing openly of controversial Shiìte doctrines. Shiìtes were instructed tospeak to non-Shiìtes only about religious views they held in commonand to avoid open proselytization.35 Shiìtes were advised to engage ritu-ally and socially with their non-Shiìte neighbors: “Be an ornament for[the Imams], not a shame for them: pray with [non-Shiìtes], visit theirsick, attend their funerals, but do not let them outdo you in any goodthing, for you are first among them. Verily God is worshipped by nothinggreater than taqiyyah.”36 Shiìtes are to avoid identifying themselves asfollowers of the Imams,37 for true Shiìtes remain hidden, such that“when people see them, they do not recognize them, and when they areabsent from them, they do not miss them.”38

Perhaps the most important practical, social function of secrecy inthe Shiìte tradition, other than pure survival, was the creation of“discursive” or “hermeneutic” space in which Shiìte doctrine couldbe developed and systematized as a minority religious perspectiveunder the vigilant eye of the political authorities. While the spacesecrecy provided could have been used to organize active rebellionsagainst the ruling powers, we see that in the case of Twelver Shiìsm—the majority form of Shiìsm—this space was primarily used todevelop their religious opposition as an intellectual perspective. Infact, it is the fifth and sixth Shiìte Imams, who did the most todevelop Shiìte doctrinal and legal positions, while defusing the more

35 Zarrad 1951–52: 114; Ibn Babawayh 1990b: 102, h. 38; Kulayni 1983, 2: 126, h. 3.36 Ibn Babawayh 1990b: 102, h. 38, see also 102, h. 39; Kahili 1951–52: 114.37 Kulayni 1983: 222–223, h. 5.38 Kulayni 1983, 2: 238–239, h. 27. This idea seems to parallel certain mystical Sufi notions of the

hiddenness of the true saints and spiritual guides.


revolutionary inclinations of some of their disciples, who are also the mostardent advocates of taqiyyah and kitman in Shiìte literature; and this islargely a reflection of their own intellectual prominence and wider publicrole as religious intellectuals. While these two Imams resided in Medina, themajority of their followers were based in the Ìraqi city of Kufa, with smallercommunities of Shiìtes residing in other regional centers. Although the dis-tance between Kufa and Medina was significant, Shiìte sources indicate thatShiìte delegations from Kufa would periodically make the journey to theImam in Medina, often doing this as part of—or under the cover of—making the required hajj (pilgrimage) to Mecca. Given the relative proxim-ity of Mecca and Medina, some Shiìtes may have taken an extended stay ofweeks or months in Medina to attend the Imam’s private and public teach-ing circles (majalis) after completing the hajj, or else met the Imam duringthe hajj proper. In many Shiìte traditions, the Imams render spiritualadvice to their disciples in the very public context of performing the circu-mambulation of the Ka`bah. Amid thousands of pilgrims from all over theIslamic world participating in this ritual, the Imam’s speaking to, or movingwith, a crowd of Ìraqi or other disciples would hardly attract notice or sus-picion. One can easily see how the intensely public nature of the hajj pro-vided an ironically private “space” for the Imams to convey their teachings.As we shall see, the idea of hiding in openness, or concealing inward reli-gious difference within outward religious conformity, is a constant theme inShiìte doctrine and practice. In the remainder of this article I will discussthe strategies they used to accomplish this, and the ways in which thesestrategies were integrated and consistent with fundamental Shiìte doctrines,regarding the nature and spiritual status of the Imams and their communitywithin the larger Islamic ummah.

STRATEGIES OF SECRECY: REVEAL AND CONCEAL, SEMANTIC GAMES

Secrecy and taqiyyah were practiced, in the first instance, both by andfor the Imam himself. While the intellectual prominence of al-Baqir andal-[adiq within pro-Àlid circles was undoubtedly known to the rulingauthorities of their time, pains were to be taken to conceal their identityas Imam and the extent of the authority vested in them by their close dis-ciples. Al-[adiq, for example, almost always abstained from mentioninghimself as the living Imam,39 and in one case, when a disciple asked if he

39 See, for example, Kulayni 1983, 1: 241, h. 2 and 2: 19–21, h. 6, 9; Àyyashi 1961, 1: 252.


was the successor to his father, al-Baqir, and thus the current, living Imam,al-[adiq simply laughed (refusing a direct answer), but then allowed the dis-ciple to kiss his hand in a show of obeisance.40 In another case, the Imampraised the action of a disciple who, when he passed al-[adiq on a publicroad, averted his head and pretended not to know him.41 In Shiìte tradi-tions, the Imam is sometimes generically referred to as al-Àlim or “thelearned one”—a title that applied to countless other scholars in the Islamicsociety of this time, and thus, one that would not necessarily attract notice,should a reference to the Imam using this title be overheard by outsiders. Yetamong Shiìtes there would be no doubt that the speaker was referring to theImam, because from the Shiìte perspective, the title could only rightfullybelong to the Imam, with his unrivaled access to religious knowledge. It isalso worth noting that in Shiìte traditions, the Imams are usually identifiedby their patronyms—such as “Abu Ja`far” or “Abu Àbd Allah”—titles thatlacked a certain personal specificity and so perhaps also served to obscurethe identity of the Imam to whom those traditions were attributed.42

The fifth and sixth Imams, who taught and lectured publicly on reli-gious issues, were apparently attentive to their audience when decidingwhether to reveal sensitive teachings. In several instances, before discussinga controversial doctrinal point, the Imam reportedly took demonstrativemeasures to ensure that his words could not be overheard.43 The Imamsalso reserved the right to refuse to answer questions posed to them aboutcontroversial issues, particularly if they felt the questioner could not betrusted to keep the teachings secret.44 For example, al-[adiq declined toexplicitly mention the spiritual significance of love (hubb) of Àli and hisdescendants, because of the presence of a disciple who had a reputation forspreading his teachings outside of Shiìte circles.45 On another occasion,

40 Kulayni 1983, 1: 243–244, h. 15.41 Kulayni 1983, 2: 221–222, h. 9. There seems to have been a pervasive reluctance to mention the

existing or living Imam by name, and this continues to this day, in a sense, in the prohibition againstmentioning the name of the Twelfth, occulted Imam, who is said to have disappeared in the fourth/tenth century, but to be an intangible, but mysteriously present and guiding Imam for the Shiìtecommunity until his reappearance near the end of time.

42 Note that this tradition continues with regard to the Twelfth and hidden Imam, in that heshould only be referred to by his titles (al-Qa’im, al-Hujjah), but his name, as a matter of dogma, isnever to be mentioned openly.

43 See, for example, Kulayni 1983, 1: 294–296, h. 1 and 316, h. 1.44 Kulayni 1983, 1: 268–269, h. 8, 9.45 \usi 1969: 336–337, n. 617. In another tradition al-Baqir abruptly cuts short his teaching, saying

that he could only reveal more if he could find secure “vessels” and a “resting place” for suchknowledge—and two important commentaries on Shiìte hadith gloss these terms, respectively, as“hearts that conceal and preserve secrets” and as “heart[s] empty of all distractions that mightprevent them from grasping, accepting and preserving the truth.” See Kulayni 1983, 1: 285, h. 3.


al-Baqir explained to his disciples that the Prophet Muhammad had inheritedthe knowledge of all previous prophets, and that he later conveyed thisknowledge to Àli. Al-Baqir was asked if this meant that Àli’s knowledgeexceeded that of certain prophets, and he responded: “Do you hear what hesay?! Verily God opens the ears of whomever He wills. I said that God col-lected for Muhammad the knowledge of the prophets and that [Muham-mad] gathered all of this [and gave it] to the Commander of the Faithful[i.e., Àli]. And he asks me if [Àli] is more knowledgeable than some of theprophets!”46 The Imam’s response, it will be noticed, does not answer thequestion. His words point to the inescapable, if controversial, conclusionthat Àli’s knowledge surpassed that of the pre-Islamic prophets, and yet herefuses to make a direct, indicative statement on this sensitive issue, whichcould be recorded and circulated to his detriment. He simply establishesthe premises and leaves his disciples to follow them to their natural end.

In numerous Shiìte traditions, the context for the Imam’s speech is apublic or semi-public gathering, in which both Shiìtes and non-Shiìtesmight be present. When the Imams spoke in such contexts, or even whenthey were speaking to a group of Shiìtes who were considered to have vary-ing levels of religious understanding or trustworthiness, they are often repre-sented as speaking cryptically, using gestures, pauses or momentary silencesto conceal the real meaning of their words, and sometimes employing termsor ideas used and accepted throughout all forms of Islamic discourse, butwhich had been assigned particular sectarian meanings. This seems to haveallowed the Imams to speak publicly and unimpeachably about controver-sial Shiìte views by hiding them, so to speak, under the cover of mainstreamIslamic religious discourse. Paul Johnson notes that through the practiceand use of secrecy, a religion’s inner core is located “not only in the hiddenroom of initiation but also in discourse, such that physical space yields todiscursive space.”47 In some ways, this is an apt description of Shiìsm in thisperiod, where the physical distance of the Imam from the majority of his fol-lowers, and his need to occasionally communicate teachings to them in pub-lic forums, required the creation of a sectarian mode of discourse, aterminology—in this case, based very much on standard Qur’anic andIslamic religious language—that could serve as an acceptable outward con-tainer for controversial esoteric or sectarian teachings.48

46 Kulayni 1983, 1: 279–280, h. 6.47 Johnson 2001: 19.48 Here, there are clear parallels with Hugh Urban’s discussion of the Kartabhaja’s use of the

“encryption of texts” and their development of a “sophisticated system of esoteric discourse and thecoded transmission of information.” He even notes that the Kartabhaja did this by co-opting“hegemonic language” and “endow[ing it] with radically subversive hidden content” (1998: 228–230).


Perhaps the most well-known way in which the Imams werereportedly able to communicate sectarian meanings in mainstreamdiscourse was through their unique and sometimes very peculiarinterpretation of Qur’anic verses. As we have seen, the Imamsclaimed to have access to the only complete commentary on theQur’an as transmitted from the Prophet to Àli. While the fundamen-tal Shiìte doctrine of the Àlid imamate is nowhere explicitly men-tioned in the Qur’an, Shiìte commentary on the Qur’an identified ahost of Qur’anic terms as references to the knowledge and authorityof the Imams or else to the special distinctions of their followers.When the Qur’an speaks of “those firmly-rooted in knowledge [whoalone know the interpretation of the Qur’an]”49 or “those in posses-sion of authority (ulu’l-amr),”50 Shiìte tradition understands these asreferences to the Imams. The Imams are also identified with theQur’anic “landmarks” that God placed in the earth for the guidanceof mankind;51 with the “people of remembrance” whom the believersshould consult in matters of religion;52 and with Qur’anic referencesto divine light53 and guidance.54 In this way, Shiìtes argue that thedoctrine of the imamate and the spiritual distinction of the Imams iscontained (or concealed) within the literal meaning of the Qur’an.Shiìte tradition also identified certain Qur’anic categories of piouspersons as referring to their followers. For example, the Qur’anic“ulu’l-albab (people of understanding),”—a category of spirituallyperspicacious believers—are exclusively identified with the followersof the Imams.55 A tradition attributed to al-[adiq glosses theQur’anic statement that Satan has no power over God’s “devotees(ìbad),” by saying that the latter refers to the Shiìtes exclusively.56

The Shiìtes are identified with the Qur’anic “best of creatures”57 and“those true to their trust,”58 and are frequently considered the sole

49 A Qur’anic category of individuals mentioned in III:7, who in some interpretations of this verse,are said to be those who know the inner meaning of the ambiguous verses of the Qur’an (Kulayni1983, 1: 269–270).

50 Kulayni 1983, 1: 262–263.51 Qur’an XVI:16; Kulayni 1983, 1: 263–264.52 Qur’an XVI:43; Kulayni 1983, 1: 267–269.53 Kulayni 1983, 1: 249–252.54 Kulayni 1983, 1: 247.55 For a reference to the ulu’l-albab, see Qur’an XXXIX:9. Kulayni 1983, 1: 269, h. 1, 2; Barqi

1370AH: 127–128, h. 134.56 Ahwazi 1983–84: 129, h. 137.57 Ahwazi 1983–84: 129, h. 140, in reference to Qur’an XCVIII: 7.58 Ibn Babawayh 1990a: 61, in reference to Qur’an XXXIII: 23.


recipients of extraordinary types of divine forgiveness and leniencymentioned in the Qur’an.59

This kind of Qur’anic interpretation obviously served the doctrinalpurpose of providing evidence for the presence of distinctly Shiìte beliefsregarding their Imams and community in the universally acceptedQur’anic scripture. On a more esoteric level, it served a profound spiritualpurpose, similar to that of other mystical modes of commentary on sacredtexts. For Jewish Kabbalists, Sufi mystics, and also for esoteric Shiìtes, thescriptural text was not so much a wall circumscribing human religiousknowledge, but rather a window whose apparent boundaries, for the spir-itually adept, opened onto a much deeper and more comprehensive real-ity.60 However, we should also consider the practical role sectarianexegeses may have played, and the subtle impact that the promulgation ofthese interpretations within the Shiìte community may have had on theirreligious consciousness. To the extent that the sectarian referents assignedto various terms in the Qur’an were well known to their disciples, theImams had the possibility of teaching in mixed sectarian company, andcommunicating religious meaning on two levels. On one level, the Imams’words and recitation of particular Qur’anic passages simply reiteratedmainstream Islamic ideas about the importance of following learnedguides in religion, and the spiritual distinctions and favors awaiting thebelievers in the next life; on another level, however, they could be under-stood as references to the Imams and to the Shiìte community, respec-tively and exclusively. Thus for those who knew the Shiìte sectarianinterpretation of Qur’anic verses, and held it to be absolutely true, giventheir faith in the infallible knowledge of the Imams, Shiìte sectarian viewswere effectively reinforced every time they read those passages from theQur’an. A Shiìte and a non-Shiìte listening to the same passages of theQur’an might well understand largely or even entirely different religiousmessages. Thus the Qur’an, whose literal text is considered beyond criti-cism, and is identical for Shiìtes and Sunnis, became capable throughinterpretation of conveying and reinforcing a wide range of controversialand uniquely Shiìte views.

Outside of Qur’anic interpretation, Shiìte traditions sometimes useother elements of conventional Islamic discourse publicly to conceal sec-tarian truths inwardly. This might be described by Eliade as “phanic”speech, which simultaneously transmits and conceals esoteric content by

59 See traditions in Barqi 1370AH: 128, h. 126 and 158, h. 94; Ahwazi 1983–84: 29, h. 51; Majlisi1957–73, 69: 172–173, h. 19; Husayn b. Ùthman 1951–52: 111.

60 Wasserstrom identifies “transparency” as a core concept in the writings of Scholem, Eliade andCorbin (1999: 58, 85–86).


using speech intended to mislead the uninitiated; or as Scholem mightsay, it is a matter of “protecting secrets better by pronouncing them thanby keeping silent about them.”61 In one interesting example, al-Baqirinstructs his widely-respected disciple, Aban b. Taghlib, to publiclyrelate, on his authority, a statement that the Islamic testament of faith(shahadah) was God’s “fortress” and that whoever entered this fortresswould avoid divine punishment. Aban is surprised and confused, sincethe tradition suggests that all individuals, regardless of sectarianaffiliation, can avoid hellf ire by simply stating the basic Islamic formulaof faith. Al-Baqir then explains that the statement is true on one level, butnot complete, for most people do not know that those who do not payspiritual allegiance to Àli and his descendants will be stripped of theirshahadah on the Day of Judgment.62 This part, it was understood, Abanwas to keep to himself.

One of the most controversial aspects of Shiìte thought was theirattitude toward the first two caliphs, Abu Bakr and Ùmar, whom Shiìtesconsider the archenemies and persecutors of the family of the Prophet,even while most members of the Muslim community consider them tobe perfect embodiments of Islamic virtue. This naturally made it ratherdangerous for Shiìtes to speak in openly derogatory terms about thesetwo figures. One of the most interesting pairs of terms used to crypticallyrefer to Abu Bakr and Ùmar are “jibt” and “taghut.” The names jibt andtaghut appear in the Qur’an (IV:51) as false idols, and both terms are pri-marily defined as “anything which is worshipped other than God,”whether it be an idol, a devil, a soothsayer, a sorcerer, and so on.63 How-ever, in Shiìte tradition, “jibt” and “taghut” were also unmistakably usedas code names for the first two caliphs. In one tradition, the Imam urgeshis followers not to mention [Shiìte views of] jibt and taghut or othercontroversial Shiìte doctrines in the interest of taqiyyah.64 In anothercase, al-[adiq lists the renunciation of “jibt” and “taghut” among theseven things one must do to be considered a true believer.65 Renunciation

61 Wasserstrom 1999: 28, 33. Hugh Urban also discusses this as a “discursive procedure thatpermits people to seem to be revealing knowledge while maintaining its secrecy. . . .” (1998: 239).

62 Ibn Babawayh 1972: 7; Daylami 1988: 357.63 According to some early traditionists, these terms referred to the leader of the Jews and the

Christians, respectively; whereas Ibn Àbbas used to relate that they referred to the leaders of the twoJewish clans of Medina, Huyayy b. Akhtab and Ka`b b. Ashraf, respectively (see, Ibn Manzur 1988, 2:164 and 8: 170–171).

64 Majlisi 1957–73, 24: 303, h. 14.65 Ibn Babawayh 1990b: 104, h. 41 (Note: the list only comes to “seven” if one counts

dissociation from al-jibt and al-taghut as two separate things.) See also, Majlisi 1957–73, 53:115–116, h. 21.


of false idols (taken literally) is an obvious prerequisite of “true belief” inmainstream Islamic terms, while renunciation of the two as a cryptic ref-erence to Abu Bakr and Ùmar represents an exclusive and controversialShiìte position. This use of commonly accepted Islamic religious ideas torefer to specific, and often political or controversial, Shiìte notions, likethe Shiìte system of Qur’anic interpretation that invested universallyrecognized scriptural passages with very specific sectarian content,allowed the Imams and their followers to effectively “hide in plain sight”and conceal their sectarian teachings within the terminology of acceptedorthodoxy.

STRATEGIES OF SECRECY—WRITING AND ORALITY

Despite its use of widely accepted terms of discourse to convey itssectarian views, early Shiìsm did stand apart from the Islamic intellec-tual culture of its day in the use of the writing and written texts as ameans of transmitting religious knowledge. This notion seems to runagainst the grain of other mystical or minority religious groups, in thatit is more common for such groups to maintain that the secrets or hid-den content of their religion is contained in the oral teachings of themaster rather than in written texts. Certainly, in some respects, this isalso true of Shiìsm, in that one needed to rely on the living Imam’s oralinterpretations and exegeses of sacred texts and on his personal guid-ance in order to properly integrate the truths of the Qur’an or religiousdoctrine in one’s own spiritual life. Yet Shiìtes, more often than othergroups in the earliest period of Islamic history, tended to write downtheir traditions.

To understand why this is, we must consider the character of earlyIslamic intellectual culture. This culture explicitly favored orality, andparticularly the oral transmission of religious knowledge, almost asmatter of doctrine. The Qur’an was conveyed to the illiterate Prophetthrough direct speech, and was considered primarily an oral, recitedtext and only secondarily a written one. Moreover the nomadic orsemi-nomadic culture of pre-Islamic Arabia favored cultural expressionthrough orally recited poetry, and there seems to have been somedeeply rooted suspicion among the Arabs of books and written docu-ments, which could be surreptitiously forged and falsified—somethingviewed as less likely in the context of the face-to-face interactionbetween individuals that oral transmission required. Perhaps moreimportant, however, was the prohibition on the writing of Prophetictradition that was allegedly established by the second caliph, Ùmar


b. al-Khattab (d. 22/644).66 Regardless of its historical authenticity, theattribution of a prohibition on written transmission to a figure asreligiously prominent as Ùmar was significant for the later determi-nation of “orthodox” and “heterodox” means of transmitting reli-gious knowledge, with oral transmission being clearly identified withorthodoxy.67

Nabia Abbot notes that this prohibition on writing carried much lessweight among more heterodox groups in early Islamic society, whooften ignored the second caliph’s injunctions with regard to writtentransmission, and this must have been especially true in the Shiìte case.Shiìtes consider Ùmar to be one of the primary perpetrators of the his-toric injustice to the family of the Prophet, who played a key role inthwarting Àli’s immediate succession to Muhammad. Moreover, inShiìte accounts of the events after the death of the Prophet, issues ofwriting and written documents play an important role in the politicalmarginalization of Àli and his religious views. It is said that on hisdeathbed, the Prophet requested a pen and tablet be brought so that hecould dictate his last will and testament, which Shiìtes believe includedan explicit designation of Àli as his successor. It is Ùmar who is said tohave denied the request by arguing that the Prophet was delirious andnot mentally f it to give such a f inal testament.68 A second equally well-known instance is the reported rejection by the first caliph, Abu Bakr, ofÀli’s written codex of the Qur’an, with accompanying Prophetic com-mentary, which he compiled in the months after the Prophet’s death.69

This constitutes, of course, an important basis for the Shiìte claim thattheir Imams alone know the complete Qur’an and its true interpreta-tion, and that without the benefit of Àli’s codex and commentary, mostof the Islamic community remained ignorant of the true meaning of the

66 According to Islamic sources, Ùmar collected and burned all written Prophetic traditionsand records of this sort during his caliphate, fearing that they would confuse Muslims and detractfrom the absolute authority of the Qur’an. See Ibn Sa`d 1905–1940, 5: 140. There has been someacademic discussion about the significance of Ùmar’s actions for the development of apredominantly oral cultural medium in early Islamic society. G.H.A. Juynboll has expressedskepticism about the authenticity and significance of the reports about Ùmar (1983: 5), but in amore recent article and lengthy study of the issue of writing in early Islamic intellectual culture,Michael Cook also cites Ùmar’s reported prohibition on the writing of tradition as significant(1997: 502–503, 509).

67 See, for example, Nabia Abbott’s discussion of this (1957–72, 2: 7, 39, 52).68 See \abari 1964: 1806–1807, where Ùmar is specifically identified as the one who refuses the

Prophet’s request; and Ibn Sa`d 1905–40, 2: 36–38, where Ùmar is specifically identified as the mainopponent of the Prophet’s request in certain accounts but not in others.

69 Tabarsi 1992, 1: 207. See also, Ibn Sa`d 1905–40, 2: 101, where Àli’s collection of the Qur’anafter the death of the Prophet is noted without reference to Abu Bakr’s rejection of it.


Qur’anic verses.70 Thus in Shiìte accounts of events following thedeath of the Prophet—accounts which in many ways represent thefoundation of the Shiìte perspective—religious truth is connectedwith written documents, and the subversion of religious truth isaccomplished through their suppression. It is perhaps for this reasonthat, as Michael Cook notes, there is almost a complete absence ofcontroversy over written transmission in Shiìte tradition.71 Writingalso plays an important—if largely symbolic—role in discussions ofthe religious knowledge and spiritual authority of the Imams. Shiìtetradition attributes the Imams’ more esoteric forms of knowledge to aseries of books, scrolls, or written documents that they held in theirsole possession.72 Thus writing played an essential role in some of themost fundamental of Shiìte doctrines—from their view of events afterthe death of Muhammad to their understanding of the unique knowl-edge of the Imams.

On a practical level, however, writing would also have been a conve-nient means of transmitting information that was politically or reli-giously controversial. Because of the predominance and uniquelegitimacy of publicly and orally transmitted knowledge in dominantIslamic intellectual circles, written documents were inherently privateones. Individual scholars might keep written accounts of traditions, orlegal opinions, as a personal aide mémoire, until they had learned thematerial competently by heart—after which they would either burn theirwritten notes or bequeath them as a family legacy to their progeny73—but the written medium was not suitable to wide or public dissemina-tion. It should come as little surprise, then, that the Shiìte Imams, whoencouraged their disciples to keep their teachings private and to remainaloof from public religious discourse (which was conducted, of course,through oral transmission) would frequently encourage Shiìtes to “writedown” the traditions they had heard from the Imam—and therefore tokeep them as a private legacy beyond the view of mainstream Islamicintellectual culture. Writing, therefore, had both doctrinal and practical

70 For assertions of this claim, see Kulayni 1983, 1: 284–286.71 Cook 1997: 483 and 444, where he notes: “I have encountered almost nothing of relevance

in non-Sunni sources. The oralism of the old Kufan traditionists appears to have left no traceamong the Imami [Shiìtes] or the Zaydis. . . .” He also notes the absence of controversy overthis issue among the Kharjites—another minority perspective that emerged in the early Islamicperiod.

72 For a variety of traditions on this issue, see Kulayni 1983, 1: 281–284, 294–298, 319; al-[affar al-Qummi 1983: 190–193.

73 See Abbott 1957–72, 2: 52, 62; Cook 1997: 476–480.


significance, serving the interests of both secrecy and survival, while alsobeing symbolically consistent with the idea that true knowledge—whether it be knowledge of the Prophet’s last will and testament, or elsethe unique esoteric knowledge possessed by the Imams—was held pri-vately, rather than publicly.

Numerous traditions report the Imams’ endorsement and encourage-ment of writing as a means for their followers to preserve their teachings.Al-[adiq tells his disciples: “the heart trusts in writing”74—somethingthat seems distinctly counter to the common Islamic notion that authen-ticity resided in oral rather than written transmission. He also instructs agroup of his disciples gathered around him: “Write! For verily you willnot preserve [this knowledge] if you do not write [it] down,”75 and inanother case he warns his disciples: “Preserve [this knowledge] in yourbooks (kutubikum), for you will need them.”76 Issues related to the prob-lematic nature of written documents in this early period and questionsabout the lack of accountability or reliable records of authorship are alsooccasionally addressed in Shiìte traditions, with the Imams sometimesencouraging a certain amount of leniency in determining the authentic-ity of texts of questionable or unnamed authorship.77 Of course, oneshould certainly approach these traditions with a heavy dose of caution.Forging traditions that communicated the Imams’ uncritical endorse-ment of whatever could be found in this or that book, with or without anacceptable oral transmission pedigree, would certainly have been in theinterest of those seeking to have any number of controversial ideasinserted into the Shiìte record. Yet the potential for abuse of this policydoes not allow us to dismiss the notion that early Shiìtes regularlyrecorded the teachings of the Imams in writing and viewed this as legiti-mate from a religious and intellectual point of view, since there are plentyof circumstantial details in the traditions indicating that Shiìtes usedwritten texts to record and transmit what they had heard from theImams.78 It should also be noted that many of the primary sourcesthat post-ghaybah Shiìte scholars used to compile what became

74 Kulayni 1983, 1: 104, h. 8.75 Kulayni 1983, 1: 104–105, h. 9.76 Kulayni 1983, 1: 105, h. 10 (see also 105, h. 11). Of course, these traditions might well be

intended to legitimate the process by which the canonical collections of Shiìte hadith were compiledin the decades and centuries after the disappearance of the Imams, largely through explicitly writtensources.

77 Kulayni 1983, 1: 104–106, h. 6, 15.78 See, for example, Kulayni 1983, 1: 104, h. 5 and 110–111, h. 13.


standard and canonical collections of Shiìte hadith were explicitly writ-ten documents.79

SECRECY, TRUTH, AND CHANGE

An issue that frequently emerged in relation to taqiyyah and secrecyconcerns the apparent consistency or lack thereof in the teachings andrulings of the Imams. Some of the Imams’ closest disciples observedthat the Imams did not always give consistent answers to religiousquestions. This is sometimes explained as a matter of taqiyyah given thenon-Shiìte status of the questioner or others present, and the Shiìteshould understand that the Imam is practicing taqiyyah in this situa-tion.80 In one case, Zurarah b. A`yan, a prominent disciple of the fifthand sixth Imams witnessed al-Baqir giving different answers to thesame question posed by three different Shiìte disciples. When Zurarahquestioned al-Baqir about this, he replied that he did this in the inter-ests of himself and his disciples, because if all his disciples related iden-tical statements from him, people would surmise that these(controversial) teachings were authentically from the Imam, puttingthe Imams and their followers in danger.81 The tradition thus suggeststhat the Imams at times deliberately placed their disciples in a situationwhere they would be relating conflicting statements on their authority—thereby creating confusion about the true teachings of the Imams amongoutsiders, and obscuring the vision of those seeking to indict the Imamsover controversial issues.

Of course, recourse to notions of taqiyyah may have been a way forlater scholars to resolve or explain away contradictions and changesover time in the teachings of the Imams, but insofar as the Imams mayhave actually dispensed contradictory advice on occasion, this raisesquestions about their ability to guide their followers under situations of

79 Here, of course, we are thinking of the frequently mentioned “400 u5ul (sing. a5l)” ornotebooks compiled by the followers of the Imams that purport to record—ratherunsystematically, it would seem from those that still exist—the words of the Imams (particularlyal-Baqir and al-[adiq) either directly from them, or more commonly, through the originaldisciples of these two Imams.

80 See Kulayni 1983, 1: 321, h. 2, where al-Baqir explains contradictory interpretations he gives ona particular Qur’anic verse; and Kulayni 1983, 1: 118–119, h. 3 where al-[adiq tells a disciple whoquestions him about a piece of advice he had just given to a questioner that contradicted what theImam had previously told him: “I answer the people (nas—a pejorative term in Shiìte discourse thatusually refers to non-Shiìtes) with “more or less”—that is, in accordance with their need or theirability to understand.

81 Kulayni 1983, 1: 119, h. 5.


intense secrecy. The substantial number of traditions addressing theissue of how Shiìtes were to circulate the Imams’ teachings amongthemselves, and how Shiìtes were to respond when they encounterednew traditions attributed to the Imams, suggests this was a serious ques-tion for Shiìtes of this time. Both al-Baqir and al-[adiq encouraged thedevelopment of a strong sense of community among their disciples—especially those far away in Kufa—that could serve as a network forsharing and preserving the teachings of the Imams.82 But Shiìtes wereto exercise extreme caution both in disseminating traditions they knewfrom the Imams and in accepting traditions attributed to them by oth-ers. One set of traditions instructs Shiìtes to weigh the content of tradi-tions attributed to the Imams against principles found in the Qur’an todetermine their authenticity.83 But another tradition advises Shiìteswho come upon a previously unheard tradition, to “recoil from it andreject it and consider unbelievers those who favor it without knowing ifit is [truthfully] related on our authority, for by doing this he abandonsspiritual allegiance (walayah) to us.”84 When encountering two contra-dictory traditions related from the Imams through reliable sources theShiìte is advised to postpone judgment until he can consult the Imampersonally, or else that whichever of the two he decides to follow is per-missible for him.85

This last directive raises an important issue that goes to the heart ofShiìte notions of religious truth and correct practice. In Shiìte tradition,the most important quality for a Shiìte believer after faith in God and theProphet, was absolute spiritual allegiance (walayah) to the Imam. Thus ifa Shiìte had to choose between two traditions or sets of instructions reli-ably related from the Imam, then choosing either one in good faith wasan acceptable course of action—it was not about this or that action per se,but about faithful trust in the superior spiritual knowledge and guidanceof the Imam and the intention to submit to his authority to the best ofone’s ability. Moreover, as we have seen, the Imams’ pronouncementswere liable to appear inconsistent or to change over time—in accordancewith the religio-political affiliations of his audience, the spiritualadvancement of the disciple to whom he was speaking, or for reasons of

82 See traditions indicating this concern in Hadrami 1951–52: 79; Qummi 1990: 136–137, h. 6, 8;Ibn Babawayh 1990b: 91, h. 22; Kulayni 1983, 2: 192, h. 2.

83 Kulayni 1983, 1: 123–124.84 Kulayni 1983, 2: 226, h. 7.85 Kulayni 1983, 1: 119–120, h. 7.


dissimulation (taqiyyah), secrecy or discretion. From the Shiìte point ofview, truth in its absolute sense was unchanging and was transmitted inits pure and complete form from the Prophet to the Imams, but thematerial or circumstantial manifestations of that truth were not necessar-ily static.

This notion of the preservation of a permanent truth amidst contin-ual change lay at the heart of many peculiarly Shiìte doctrines—such asbada’, the ability of God to alter a destiny He had Himself pre-ordained; the notion that the Imams’ knowledge was acquired not onlythrough the inherited legacy of their predecessors, but also throughmiraculous inspiration and angelic communication on a continuingbasis;86 and the demand that every Shiìte knows and follows “the Imamof his age,”87 which after the disappearance of the Twelfth Imam wasparlayed into the principle that a Shiìte needed to follow a “living”scholar of Islamic law (mujtahid). These ideas have been amply dis-cussed elsewhere, but the general principle they reflect, that of truthand stability amid change, bears significantly upon the issue of thelegitimacy of taqiyyah or secrecy. If changing outward guises andfaçades were necessary to protect this essential truth of the spiritual res-ervoir of the Imams, then this was, at least in some historical circum-stances, considered a greater spiritual good than stoic adherence to thisor that interpretation of correct practice. “Anyone who knows that wespeak only the truth” al-[adiq states “should be satisfied with what heknows from us; and if he hears from us something different than whathe already knows, he should recognize this as a defense from us for him[i.e., through taqiyyah].”88 Taqiyyah, therefore, is located both in theImam’s new or altered instructions and in the disciple’s followingthem.

On a practical level, the various measures taken to prevent the publicspread of Shiìte teachings protected the Shiìte Imams and their follow-ers, while also serving to distinguish Shiìtes from their Sunni counter-parts. Sunni Islam placed great value not only on the wide and publicdissemination of religious traditions, but on the preservation of thosetraditions crystallized in verbatim form going back to the Companions ofthe Prophet. This process was by nature not only public and democratic,but also profoundly conservative. Shiìte transmission of traditions, at

86 Kulayni 1983, 1: 296, 298–310.87 See, for example, Kulayni 1983, 1: 235, h. 2.88 Kulayni 1983, 1: 119, h. 6. There is also a tradition in which the Imam instructs the disciple that

when he hears one opinion from him on one occasion and a different opinion on another occasion, heshould follow whichever opinion was issued most recently (Kulayni 1983, 2: 221, h. 7).


least during the time of the Imams themselves, was by contrast based onmore elitist notions of the nature of religious knowledge and was thusmore private in nature. Yet while the Imams were alive, it was also verymuch a living tradition that understood and accepted outward change asa necessary means of preserving what Shiìtes viewed as ultimate reli-gious truth. Thus not only the content of Shiìte teachings but also themanner in which they were preserved and transmitted posed an ideolog-ical challenge to the dominant intellectual and religious culture of earlyIslam.

CONCLUSION

The Shiìte practices of taqiyyah and kitman have often been regardedskeptically by non-Shiìte and western scholars, but secrecy and the dis-simulation of sectarian affiliation were more than simply a survival strat-egy. Although they were undoubtedly related to the imperative ofsurvival, they also had a deeper and more meaningful basis in Shiìtethought. As a small and vulnerable community that nonetheless vieweditself as the true and unadulterated heart of the Islamic religion, its sur-vival and the survival of its teachings were occasionally considered to takeprecedence over public truthfulness, confessional disclosure, and eventhe wider propagation of this “true faith.” For Shiìtes, ultimate religioustruth was not limited to this or that outward expression of faith or reli-gious ritual, rather, it resided in the transcendent principle of the sacredcharacter of the Imams. The very strategies of secrecy employed by theShiìte community, including the use of private, secretly transmittedwritten texts in a religious culture dominated by the oral and public dis-semination of religious knowledge, and the use of sectarian messages andmeanings encoded in the literal words of the Qur’an and in the publicteachings of Shiìte leaders and scholars, were themselves reflections ofthe more esoteric and spiritually elitist notions of religious truth thatinformed much of Shiìte thought. Through the well-placed use ofsecrecy and dissimulation within a broader culture (including its own)that glorified martyrdom and witnessing, through the written transmis-sion of its teachings in a culture dominated by orality as a matter of reli-gious principle, and by imbuing Qur’anic passages and ordinary Islamicreligious terms with particular sectarian referents, Shiìtes were able tosimultaneously challenge some of the basic religious and intellectualassumptions of the non-Shiìte Islamic majority, while also concealing,preserving, and transmitting their views through centuries of intermit-tent persecution.


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