Category: religion

On Iranian Identity

Traveling in Iran, we have come upon some interesting points on Iranian identity, relating to everything from Islam to Zoroastrianism, and the ancient Iranian empires to the State of Israel, which I thought would be worth covering in a post. It is interesting to see which strains of Iranian history and culture are emphasized by Iranians and the Iranian government, and why.

Iranians all over the country speak very proudly of the Achaemenids and the great Achaemenid site of Persepolis. I believe this is not only because there was so much that was great about the Achaemenid Empire, from its expansive territory to its successes as a truly cosmopolitan, universalist and seemingly benevolent world power, but because it (along with, to a lesser extent, the Sassanid Iranian Empire) represents what Iranians see as purely Iranian greatness, a past untainted by the Arab conquest, which is viewed largely as a destructive invasion by a relatively barbarian people. This focus on ancient, pre-Islamic Iran was also shared by the 20th century Pahlavi dynasty, which deliberately positioned itself as a continuation of Iran’s ancient past, including by naming itself after an ancient Iranian language. While there is something slightly sad about a country’s dwelling on its greatness of nearly 2,500 years ago, it is interesting to see how some Iranians, frustrated with and contemptuous of the current government, bulk the Islamic Revolution together with the Arab conquest and the coming of Islam as things that are non-Persian and bad, as defined against Cyrus the Great, Persepolis and all that is Persian and glorious.

One woman explained to us that Iran has a long tradition of gender equality going back to Achaemenid times, and that the concept of female subservience (including as promoted by the current government) is fundamentally Arab. Indeed, a paradox of Iran is that despite its laws it is in some ways more gender equal than other countries we have been to. Women here are quite visible in the workplace, unlike some parts of the Arab world, and many places, such as restaurants, that would be segregated in other parts of the Islamic world are not segregated in Iran. What makes Iran such a backward place, gender-wise, is largely not culture, the young woman argued, but merely law. (There is little doubt in my mind that Iran has the potential of far exceeding any other country in the region in gender equality and female success, socially and economically–even now, women make up a solid majority of Iranian university students.) Other people have told us that some Iranians are rejecting Islam altogether due to their disaffectedness with the Islamic authorities, turning instead to Zoroastrianism. One Zoroastrian pointed out to us that many Zoroastrian practices are not based in religion at all, but the ancient customs of the Aryan people. Viewed in this light, Zoroastrianism becomes an ancient and heroic Iranian alternative to Islam.

One young person we spoke to went so far as to say that the country’s present leaders are not Iranians at all, but Arabs. This statement isn’t accurate, of course, but there is what could be called a strain of Arab supremacy that runs through Iranian religious belief. As I mentioned in my post of 5.20 on Shia Islam, Iranian Muslims pay special respect not only to the twelve Imams of Twelver Shiite Islam but also their various relatives and indeed all other descendants of Mohammed. Such descendants are called seyeds and even have a special outfit, including a black turban.

A seyed, Esfahan

I was never able to confirm whether all such people are clerics, or have any special benefits under Iranian law, but it is certainly true that they are afforded respect and take enough pride in their designation to want to stand out (by their dress). Now, many countries have a notion of aristocracy–but it definitely seems strange that Iranians would be celebrating people who are, along at least one identifiable line of descent, not Iranian at all but Arab, given that Arabs as a rule are quite disliked by Iranians as barbarians who came and damaged the high culture of Iran.

Respect of seyeds is but one example of putting religion over ethnicity, also a common feature of a version of Iranian identity. Superficial but telling, the stress that the Islamic government of Iran places on religion over matters of national history is revealed in Iranian money. Iran is the only country I can think of that has, on its money, sites that are not located within the country’s borders. In Iran’s case, no bills contain Persepolis, in the hearts and minds of many Iranians and non-Iranians alike the most beloved and inspirational of Iran’s cultural heritage, but the 1000 and 2000 Rial notes do contain images of Mecca and Jerusalem.

1000 Rial and 2000 Rial notes, showing Islamic sites not in Iran

(Showing the political orientation of the money even further, the new 50,000 Rial note makes a special reference to Iran’s contentious nuclear program.)

One of the most significant areas in which Iran puts religious politics over ethnic politics is its virulent anti-Israel policy.

Anti-Israel mural, Tehran

I found myself asking, “Why should Iran even care about Israel?” Iranians generally have no fondness for Arabs, even if co-religionists, and go so far as to consider some of them, Saudis in particular, their enemies. Palestine is quite a distance from Iran, and, let’s face it, Iran and Israel in many senses don’t have anything to do with each other. Given that Jordan and Egypt, the countries actually bordering Israel and most affected by the problems rising from the existence of Israel, have made peace with Israel, why is it up to Iran to become a protagonist in that struggle? The answer is that through its struggle against Israel Iran believes that it is assuming leadership of the Islamic world, a mantle that Iran clearly desires. Do Iranians as a people have anything at stake? No. But the Islamic government does. (In one of the most perverse statements derived from propaganda that we heard in Iran, and generally we heard quite few, an otherwise smart man told us that Iran must oppose Israel now before Israel invades Iran, because the Zionists’ objective is to expand Israeli territory indefinitely. Today the West Bank, tomorrow Tehran? Also, note that the mural above is instructional in nature–if you are a follower of Imam Khomeini, you must support Palestinians (even if you didn’t know you cared about Israel).)

In addition to promoting Iran’s Islamic identity over Iran’s non-Islamic history, the Iranian government uses its religion of Shiite Islam specifically as a major building block of Iranian national identity.

One potential problem with Islam for Iranians, as I described above, is that it originated with Arabs, who are generally perceived quite negatively, and came to Iran through the Arab conquest, which is thought of as a destructive and negative period of Iranian history. Even today, Islam as a whole is in many ways dominated by Arabs. (We were told, for example, that the Saudis treat Iranians poorly in the hajj, assigning them substandard amenities and suboptimal access.) One “solution” for this problem has been the promotion within Iran of Shiite Islam, a sect that it would grow to dominate. Iran is now 90% Shiite Muslim, but it wasn’t always so; even up to the 17th century, there were as many Sunnis as Shiites in Iran. The balance was changed by the Safavid dynasty, which forced the conversions not only of Sunnis but also of Zoroastrians to Shiism. (I sometimes wonder why this sort of historical perspective does not make people question their beliefs.
)

One Iranian woman described Iran to me as “the center of Islamic culture.” Of course, many places can lay claim to that title, and more convincingly than Iran, but the Iranian government is hard at work promoting Iran as the center of Shiite Islam (a title it undoubtedly now holds). For the Safavids, the Shiite faith was a way for Iran to distinguish itself from the also-Islamic but Sunni Ottomans and Central Asians with whom Iran was at war, and to raise the prestige of Iran as a sort of sub-leader within the confines of what is in some ways a foreign faith (perhaps comparable to the state churches established during the Reformation). Shiism still serves the state function of helping strengthen national identity and status by acting as a brand of Islam that is Iranian rather than Arab. The current government continues to promote Iranian-style Shiism not only in Iran but throughout the Islamic world, by funding of Shiite mosques and otherwise, with the additional political aim of building support for Iran, Shiism’s center, within other countries.

Another way that the Iranian goverment uses religion is by creating confusion between faith and state. Iranian people are, undoubtedly, deeply religious, and the government equates religion and state such that it becomes difficult for Iranians to reject fully their government without in part rejecting their religion. One example of this is what I think is an ambiguous use of the word “martyr.” Immediately after the Islamic Revolution, Iraq took advantage of the chaos in Iran to launch an attack, leading to the debilitating Iran-Iraq War, which lasted from 1980 to 1988. Portraits of Iran-Iraq war “martyrs” are still painted on countless billboards and buildings. While calling war casualties “martyrs” no doubt helped the war effort (by borrowing from religious fervor), to me, dying in a war is not religious martyrdom even if your country has no separation of church and state. The Iranian government does not seem to recognize this distinction when bandying about the word “martyr.” According to one popular government slogan, a country whose citizens are willing to martyr themselves will never fail.

One can only wonder about a government that promotes the human sacrifice of its citizens.

The Iran-Iraq War served to unite the Iranian people under their new government, and the current government takes many actions to make the memories of the war endure despite the passage of much time, maintaining an atmosphere of perpetual war. An Iranian told us that Ahmedinejad recently had a plan to bury war dead in new memorials in every Iranian city, and another told us that now was not the time to push for political reform because the country is still recovering from the war.

I do not know if Iran is still in a period of recovery from the Iran-Iraq War, but it is clear that the wake of the Islamic Revolution, with its conscious and forceful reorientation of Iranian identity, has not settled. Of course, all the strains of Iranian identity will continue to co-exist, as always, but it remains to be seen when a national sense of balance will be reached.

Iran photo politics religion

The Hejab, or On Equality

There’s even a street named after it.

Iranian law enforces the hejab, or the Islamic dress code, on all women age 9 and over (corresponding to the age at which girls could be married in Iran immediately after the Islamic Revolution, although that age has since been changed). Iranian women do not wear the burqa, like women in parts of the Arab world and Afghanistan, but the rule seems to be that absolutely everything be covered except the face and hands. (This rule even applies to, with ridiculous effect, Iranian movies, in which female characters are covered even in domestic scenes in which in real life a woman would not be covered.) The hejab is often satisfied by wearing a chador, a very large piece of black cloth that is draped over one’s head and held in place with one’s teeth or hands to cover nearly the entire body but the face. Alternatively, and preferred by many women, is a coat (called a manteau and sometimes fitted), along with a headscarf. Young women in big cities flout the rules a bit by wearing shorter manteaus and wearing their headscarf rather “high” on the head, exposing a good portion of their hair. Some non-Muslim women tend to dress even a little more casually, perhaps exposing a little neck or ankle. [See my post of 6.4 for photos.] But the hejab is the law. If you break the law once, we are told that the police will just take you to the police station and call your family. But if you kept breaking the law, you would be fined and eventually end up in prison. The Ahmedinejad administration has ordered police crackdowns on the hejab, especially in the summers when the temperature climbs and it becomes tempting to relax one’s clothing. As once reported in the press, “Police will seize women with tight coats and cropped trousers.”

Bathroom sign

For some of you it may be tempting to view the hejab as something cultural, rules that we as non-Muslims may not be comfortable with but may well be desired by Iranians for the ordering of their society. I personally am certainly comfortable with traditional dress (cf. post of 4.16), and recognize that different cultures do find different clothes more or less acceptable or objectionable. But through our travels in Iran we have come to feel more strongly than ever that dress is an important form of personal expression, and that the legally enforced hejab is an unreasonable infringement of women’s liberties. (This may sound a bit American–and indeed I also find objectionable (although not in the same way) rules in France and Turkey that prohibit the wearing of headscarves.)

Often, in conversations with Iranian women, the hejab comes up. When we asked them what they think about having to wear the headscarf, we generally heard a curt “I hate it.” Young ladies that Derek tries to photograph will spontaneously point at their headscarves, saying that it’s ugly and that they would much prefer to be photographed without it (although of course that is not an option). Even women who said that they themselves would wear it even if it were not legally required, because it is dictated by their faith and tradition, told us that they did not think it should be the law, and that women should be free to choose. I do not know if there have been any reliable polls, but one fairly liberal, but older man thought that perhaps half of Iranian women would wear and half not wear the hejab if the law were lifted. (We were told by one older woman that, in Tehran before the Islamic Revolution, almost nobody wore headscarves, but the legal requirement in the last thirty years has restored the hejab to the level of social mores as well–even we started joking that women with high scarves must be of questionable morals, akin to a very short miniskirt–and if the law were revoked more women would probably wear headscarves than in pre-revolutionary days.) But just as women will object to the hejab, they will also point out that it’s just the tip of the iceberg, a meaningless symbol compared to the other social and legal handicaps women suffer in the Islamic Republic. Upon reflection, however, I have come to the belief that the hejab explains much about what is wrong with gender relations in Iran.

The first problem with the hejab is simple inequality. Although I believe that as a technical matter the hejab imposes restrictions on men as well (and at times men have been harassed by police for having “improper” hairstyles or whatever), from our experience the law doesn’t stop men from doing much of anything in the way of dress. Men wear short sleeves all the time, have all sorts of hairstyles from long to spiky, feel free to leave three or four buttons undone exposing a usually hairy chest and wear sandals exposing their feet. We’ve even been told that it’s okay to wear shorts, although we have not seen anyone doing this.

Exercising. The man looks a bit more comfortable, don’t you think?

Because the hejab is required for women when they may be in the presence of unrelated men, it creates for women a constant awareness of, a burden to check for, the possible presence of men. If dress is slightly relaxed, because they are alone or in a private place, they must rush to fix it if a man (especially an official) appears on the scene. It creates for women two spheres–the private, in which they are free to wear whatever they’d like, and the public, a space controlled by men in which they must modify their appearance. It is, simply put, a symbol of patriarchy.

No hejab, no service.

Another, deeper problem with the hejab revealed itself when we asked why it was necessary. What we were told repeatedly by men was that women need to conceal themselves in order to reduce temptation for and sexual violence by men. This is, of course, the exact mentality that allows rapists to defend themselves by pointing to the victim’s dress. This attitude is not only damaging to women, because it assigns female culpability to the male problem of sexual violence, but, I believe, also to men, who are seen in this view as totally lacking self-control. Indeed, some anecdotal evidence would suggest that this worldview generates male misbehavior–one young tourist we met in Tehran said that she received 10-20 unwanted and persistent advances by men each day, and another foreign woman temporarily living in Iran confirmed that Iranian men seem to have no sense of shame or fear of rejection. The Lonely Planet describes the Tehran subway as a “frotteur’s heaven.” Iranian men in the U.S. certainly don’t behave this way–it must be the culture of giving men a free pass and blaming women that causes it.

A few words on what tourists should do in Iran. One man we spoke to laughed bitterly when mentioning his conversations with female tourists from Europe who answered, when they were asked what they thought of Iran, simply that they liked Iran and that Iran was great. “What if they had to live here?” he asked, “What if there was an Islamic Republic of France? Let’s see what they’d say then.” After hearing this, we felt it our responsibility to be truthful, and not gloss over our true feelings on important questions simply because it is easier to avoid political issues.

Also, we have seen some Iranian domestic tourists from the larger cities avoid wearing their hejab when possible. For example, in a hotel lobby, two young ladies were sitting across from Derek without their scarves on, next to their scarf-wearing mother, and only rushed to put them back on, while expressing annoyance and rolling their eyes as they did it, when an Iranian man entered the room. On a daytrip to the countryside, some Iranian women in our group courageously took off their scarves, since they were in the presence of only western tourists and the tour op
erators. Sadly, on that tour, most of the western tourists kept their scarves on, no doubt not only because they were afraid of getting into trouble (we were told once that foreigners are levied a $3 fine), but because they thought that respecting local law was the “right thing to do.” But does this kind of law deserve respect? Or should the foreigners show solidarity with courageous Iranian women?

It may be the law, but does it deserve respect?

One story: We were showing New York postcards (which we carry for such show and tell) to three older women in a city park. They asked for a card, and we selected the one of Radio City Music Hall. Women are not allowed to sing or dance in public in Iran because the solo female voice and female dance are considered too seductive, causing many female musicians to move to the U.S. after the Iranian Revolution. We wrote on the back of the card, “In this place, they make music that could make you cry and there is beautiful dancing. One day, the people of Iran will dance and the women will sing. Iranian people will walk hand in hand with the rest of the world.” Each sentence was met with a quiet but firm “Inshallah [God willing].”

Iran photo politics queer religion

Freedom in Iran

To a liberal, open-minded Westerner, it may be all too easy to enter Iran thinking that maybe most Iranian people like the Islamic regime, that the country’s laws, while unappealing (to say the least) to us, are to them not only acceptable but what they expect, and how they want their society to be organized. It is tempting to think that the differences between the Iranian system and, say, the U.S. system can be written off to culture. People vote in Iran, after all, and in the last elections chose Ahmedinejad. Very quickly, within the first few days in Iran, this sort of relativism was wiped clean from our minds.

Iran is not a place where people are free to decide to be Muslim, or follow traditional behaviors, or be for or against the government; it is a place where people feel oppressed by the fanatically religious minority, the mullahs who have undemocratic, total control over the government and military and dictate a way of life that people would not choose. We heard it far and wide, from older women to youngsters, from Muslims to Zoroastrians, from big cities to smaller towns. Of course, we spoke more often with people who speak English, and we communicated (in English, through a translator or by non-verbal means) more often with people who reached out to talk to us, the foreigners, but our sample size was not small–Iranians are exceptionally friendly and we spoke to literally many dozens of people during our month in Iran. The bottom line is that people do not feel free in Iran, and that people have a strong desire to be free.

Two hand gestures became very familiar to us while traveling in Iran and communicating with locals. The first was a hand wrapping an imaginary turban on one’s head, a symbol for the theocratic elite of the country. Repeatedly, people would make the gesture, sometimes accompanied by the hand stroking an imaginary beard, to signify that it is the mullahs who have control and are mismanaging the country and restricting people from enjoying their lives in the manner that they wish. The second was the throat-cutting gesture, hand across the neck, which was used surprisingly often not only to describe what would happen to you if you tried to exercise a freedom that was not provided under Islamic law, but also as a general symbol for the government–nowhere else have we seen people associate their government so closely and so repeatedly with execution. One person told us that the only thing stopping the Islamic government from restoring stoning as a form of punishment is international pressure.

What freedoms are missing in Iran? Iran is in some ways more free than other countries we have visited. Some public criticism of government officials (though not the unelected religious hierarchy) is permitted in the press, particularly since the Khatami presidency. Traveling about the country, it feels less like a police state than Syria, where to take a long-distance bus trip your ID is checked, or Uzbekistan, where during our visit in 2003 there were frequent police checkpoints on the roads. The police presence in Iran is fairly minimal, and soldiers (usually fulfilling their compulsory military service) are friendly. What makes Iran different from other countries with comparable freedom deficits is that the freedoms unavailable in Iran are deeply personal, things that affect people on an intimate, daily basis. People speak of the censorship and lack of freedom in countries such as China, but the reality is that, day-to-day, most people in China can live largely as they wish, where their personal lives are concerned; the government does not seem to involve itself. Syrians, who seem to have almost no political freedoms but do have many personal ones under their secular government, still seem quite content with their government. Political freedoms, I feel after a month in Iran, are in a sense secondary to those personal liberties that we demand in our private lives. Of course in many cases, including possibly Iran, political freedoms are necessary to achieve the more personal ones, but if you had to choose only one, politics would come second.

After one young man told us that the thing he wished most for Iran was freedom, we asked him, “What does freedom mean to you?” “I wish I could hold my girlfriend’s hand in the street,” was his reply. Romantic/Sexual freedom is core to our identity as humans (or even deeper, to our animal souls), and one area in which the Iranian government is particularly active. We were told by one man that he is afraid even to walk down the street with his girlfriend, because of the ever-present possibility of adverse action by the police. While young people often have illicit (sexual) relationships, the dating scene is so limited that almost everyone we heard having been married or about to be married was married or engaged to his or her cousin (though this may also have to do with the frequency of arranged marriages). Forms of sexual expression that may be illegal in other countries as well, but are likely usually tolerated, such as adultery and homosexuality, are capital offenses. One man told us that, if a man discovered that his new wife is not a virgin, he would have the right to annul the marriage and likely without much legal repercussion kill the man who had slept with her.

Freedom of religion/conscience is also core to our identities. While Iran permits the practice of certain non-Islamic religions (Judaism, Christianity and Zoroastrianism), following long-established Islamic custom, there are also severe restrictions on religious belief. Perhaps most shockingly, apostasy, or renunciation of Islam by a Muslim, is punishable by death. Given this ban, the permitted minority religions are not allowed to proselytize, nor are they allowed to worship publicly. Religions other than the permitted ones, including most infamously the Bahai faith, are severely persecuted with the full force of the state. Atheism, of course, is unthinkable.

When it comes to one’s romantic/sexual life or one’s faith, however, people will to some extent act according to their desires, regardless of the law. We were told that non-martial sexual relations were fairly common among young Iranians, some engaging in anal intercourse to preserve the woman’s technical virginity. Many of Iran’s parks, especially those located somewhat outside of city centers, are filled with amorous young couples hiding among the trees. There is even a dangerous but not-so-underground gay life in the big cities [see my post also of 6.6]. Similarly, Mohammed himself said that there is no compulsion in matters of religion, and people in Iran believe in their hearts and minds many things deviant from the Islamic legal requirements. We were told by several Iranians that it is common for a person to be a Muslim on paper (Iranian government ID cards state the citizen’s religion), but not be one in spirit. One woman we spoke to said that her father and her siblings were all essentially atheists, and that her father encouraged her to learn about other religions and to pick a faith that feels right to her. Another young man, who had grown to equate Islam with the hated Iranian government, told us outright that “Islam is shit” (!) and that he wanted to become Christian. (We tried with little traction to tell him that there were plenty of bad Christians in the world as well.) He wore on his neck a cross, which had been given to him by his parents, who accepted his choice. It was a shock to see in front of us a man actually wearing around his neck evidence that could be used to convict him of a capital offense.

Cross on the neck of a Muslim man who wished to convert to Christianity, a capital crime. After we took this photograph, the man, to our surprise, asked us to re-take the picture, with his face. Later, his friend reminded us never to show that second photograph to anyone (of course we had no intention), using the throat-cutting gesture.

But of
course people, while acting outside of the law, remain afraid. Iranians love to talk about politics, and wanted to talk to us about politics, but also let us know that they feared that our conversation was somehow being monitored. People told us that we, as Americans, were likely being followed, and a man who had invited us into his family home (such invitations are not uncommon in Iran, one of the friendliest and most hospitable countries in the world) was certain that the police knew that we were there. One man who wanted to speak to us had us step away from his university classmates, because he didn’t feel he could trust them not to report the conversation. The apparent total control that the government has, its apparent ability to monitor its citizens’ activities and the severe punishments provided under the law lead to a general sense of distrust and paranoia. Without such intimate and essential freedoms as sex and faith, nearly everyone becomes a potential criminal and target of the state, a person who has to live with distrust, paranoia and potential severe punishment.

All this leads to a sense of discontent and pessimism that we have not seen in many countries. One woman told us when we said we were from New York, “I wish I was born in America.” One young girl we spoke to, when we showed her pictures from New York, said that if she lived in New York she would never come to Iran. Another young man, hearing that we were American, said, “New York, yes. Los Angeles, yes. Iran, no. Mullah, ech,” and wrapped an imaginary turban about his head. “Will things change?” we often asked. The answer generally fell somewhere between thirty years and never. Those who were the most pessimistic said that their government was deliberately keeping the country at a relatively poor state of economic development, so that people would not have the energy for political action or rebellion. Others said that the mullahs very carefully calibrated the laws to give Iranians a modicum of freedom, such as the relatively recent allowing of women to ride bicycles, a change that an optimistic Iranian specifically identified to us as a sign of progress in Iran (though to us of course it sounded absurd). Multiple people said that the government encouraged the relatively free availability of hard drugs in Iran, because the religious elite prefers that young people be chemically dependent rather than politically active. One person painfully pointed out that Western governments don’t really even care about the Iranian people, raising a conflict with Iran only when it comes to issues of security such as the nuclear program.

Lee Bollinger said in his introduction to Ahmedinejad’s address at Columbia University that “there are not enough prisons to prevent an entire society that wants its freedom from achieving it.” In the longest conversations we had with Iranians, I tried to remind them of this, and I must confess that I cannot entirely understand why 100,000 women in Tehran, Shiraz and the other biggest cities don’t just suddenly take off their headscarves one day. But of course I understand that there are real risks, and that, while Iranians may be able to sense and desire the freedoms that we take as essential, I cannot feel the fear that someone who grew up in the Islamic regime feels. Until the day comes when freedoms are restored in Iran, many Iranian people will have to continue living parts of their lives underground, or emigrate, as so many are choosing. One fellow traveler we met in Iran, an Irishman, said that he would kiss the ground when he returned home. And indeed visiting Iran does make a visitor appreciate the freedoms he enjoys back home–but a better reaction than smugness or selfish relief is outrage, for these are freedoms that we should all be able to take for granted, should not even have to be thankful for. How to direct one’s outrage remains, of course, a difficult question.

Iran religion Syria

Assassins

Post author By pkk
Post date May 28, 2008
7 Comments on Assassins

This is intended as a revision of my post of 4.12.

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One of our goals on this trip is to connect related places in different countries, and so we visited the Assassin castles of Misyaf in Syria and Alamut in Iran.

Misyaf Castle, near Hama, Syria

Alamut Castle, near Qazvin, Iran

In order to understand the origin of the Assassins, it is helpful to go back to the beginning of Islam. After the death of Mohammed in 632 AD, there arose a dispute as to who should succeed his role as the (religious and political) head of the Islamic world. One faction supported Ali, cousin and son-in-law of Mohammed, while others supported Abu Bakr. Abu Bakr was elected the first caliph (or successor to Mohammed), followed in relatively quick succession by Umar, Uthman, and then finally Ali. Showing the contentiousness of the power struggles at the time, Umar, Uthman and Ali each met his end by murder. Some blamed the death of Uthman on the Ali faction (now known as Shiites), while the Shiites blamed the death of Ali on the others (now known as Sunnis). Following the death of Ali, the Sunni Umayyad dynasty, based in Damascus, took over the caliphate. During this period, the conflict between the majority Sunnis and the minority Shiites deepened, especially after the Umayyads killed Ali’s son Hussein, much of his family and many of his followers, in a battle near Karbala in now Iraq.

While the Shiites have been out of the majority and power in most of the Islamic world since, there have been significant times and areas when they came into control. One of the most important areas was and remains Iran, where (Twelver) Shiites form a majority. [Cf. my post of 5.20 for an introduction to Iranian Shia Islam.] Another was the Cairo-based (Sevener Shia or Ismaili) Fatimid caliphate, named after Fatima, daughter of Mohammed and wife of Ali, which ruled much of North Africa, Egypt and nearby lands from 910-1171. [The Twelver and Sevener Shias had split earlier due to a dispute on the identity of the seventh Imam–post on Sevener Shias likely to come.]

Around 1090, the Fatimids suffered from their own succession problem. The losing faction refused to accept the new Fatimid ruler in Cairo and formed a somewhat radical rebel group in now Iran, known to us as the Assassins. The founder of the Assassins, Hassan Sabbah, established a base at Alamut in northern Iran and led his group into repeated conflict with the prevailing Sunni Muslim hierarchy. A second group of Assassins became established in now Syria, and was particularly active under the leadership of Rashid al-Din Sinan, who based himself at Misyaf Castle starting in 1140. It is believed that there may have been a third group of Assassins in now Iraq.

As you may know, the word “assassin,” which we use now to describe professional killers, derives from the Assassins, who are called Assassins because it was rumored that they took hashish before embarking on their missions. And much like the contemporary English meaning of the word and its derivative, assassination, the missions of the Assassins, their method of operation, was murder: the strategic killing or attempted killing of Sunni Muslim leaders, including those of the Seljuk Turks of Anatolia and Crusader-foe Saladin. The Assassins would work by embedding an operative, sometimes over the course of years, in order to murder, or assassinate, a prominent leader or otherwise powerful or influential person.

Saladin’s greatest success, prior to his defeat of the Crusaders at the Battle of Hattin in 1187, was the conquest of Egypt from the Fatimid caliphate in 1171. After terminating Fatimid rule, Saladin wanted to consolidate his (Sunni) control over the region, including by wiping out the Assassins in now Syria. In 1176, Saladin sieged the castle of Misyaf. According to legend, Saladin woke up one morning during the siege to find on his bed a dagger or poisoned cakes and a threatening note, depending on the story you believe, making clear that the Assassins had infiltrated his camp and could murder him at their will. The siege was called off.

The Assassins of now Iran met their end in 1256, when Hulagu, Genghiz Khan’s grandson, sucessfully sieged Alamut [cf. post of 5.27 on Hulagu and the Ilkhanids]. The Syrian branch would persist until 1273, when it was defeated by the Mamlukes.

Ruins of Alamut

Column capital at Misyaf, evidence of earlier fortifications at the site

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Excerpt from Marco Polo on the Hassan Sabbah and the Fortress of Alamut:

The Old Man was called in their language ALOADIN. He had caused a certain valley between two mountains to be enclosed, and had turned it into a garden, the largest and most beautiful that ever was seen, filled with every variety of fruit. In it were erected pavilions and palaces the most elegant that can be imagined, all covered with gilding and exquisite painting. And there were runnels too, flowing freely with wine and milk and honey and water; and numbers of ladies and of the most beautiful damsels in the world, who could play on all manner of instruments, and sung most sweetly, and danced in a manner that it was charming to behold. For the Old Man desired to make his people believe that this was actually Paradise. So he had fashioned it after the description that Mahommet gave of his Paradise, to wit, that it should be a beautiful garden running with conduits of wine and milk and honey and water, and full of lovely women for the delectation of all its inmates. And sure enough the Saracens of those parts believed that it _was_ Paradise!

Now no man was allowed to enter the Garden save those whom he intended to be his ASHISHIN. There was a Fortress at the entrance to the Garden, strong enough to resist all the world, and there was no other way to get in. He kept at his Court a number of the youths of the country, from 12 to 20 years of age, such as had a taste for soldiering, and to these he used to tell tales about Paradise, just as Mahommet had been wont to do, and they believed in him just as the Saracens believe in Mahommet. Then he would introduce them into his garden, some four, or six, or ten at a time, having first made them drink a certain potion which cast them into a deep sleep, and then causing them to be lifted and carried in. So when they awoke, they found themselves in the Garden.

When therefore they awoke, and found themselves in a place so charming, they deemed that it was Paradise in very truth. And the ladies and damsels dallied with them to their hearts’ content, so that they had what young men would have; and with their own good will they never would have quitted the place.

Now this Prince whom we call the Old One kept his Court in grand and noble style, and made those simple hill-folks about him believe firmly that he was a great Prophet. And when he wanted one of his _Ashishin_ to send on any mission, he would cause that potion whereof I spoke to be given to one of the youths in the garden, and then had him carried into his Palace. So when the young man awoke, he found himself in the Castle, and no longer in that Paradise; whereat he was not over well pleased. He was then conducted to the Old Man’s presence, and bowed before him with great veneration as believing himself to be in the presence of a true Prophet. The Prince would then ask whence he came, and he would reply that he came from Paradise! and that it was exactly such as Mahommet had described it in the Law. This of course gave the others who stood by, and who had not been admitted, the greatest desire to enter therein.

So when the Old Man would have any Prince slain, he would say to such a youth: “Go thou and slay So and So; and when thou returnest my Angels shall bear thee into Paradise. And shouldst thou die, natheless even so will I send my Angels to carry thee back into Paradise.” So he caused them to believe; and thus there was no order of his that they would not affront any peril to execute, for the great desire they had to get back into that Paradise of his. And in this manner the Old One got his people to murder any one whom he desired to get rid of. Thus, too, the great dread that he inspired all Princes withal, made them become his tributaries in order that he might abide at peace and amity with them.

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Shia Islam

Post author By pkk
Post date May 20, 2008
7 Comments on Shia Islam

Before starting, I want to stress that I know little about Islam or the distinctions between Sunnis and Shiites. Nonetheless, as a reasonably educated person with a basic understanding of religions, it has been both puzzling and interesting to learn about Shia Islam, and to see traditions and practices that seem to differ quite significantly with other religions that I have had at least some contact with through earlier travels. I imagine that this post would be especially interesting to those of you who know more than I do, to see an outsider’s impressions of the Shia faith Feel free to enlighten me, should I be mistaken or confused.

To start, the principal historical distinction between Sunnis and Shiites: the succession contest after the death of Mohammed. After the death of Mohammed in 632, there arose a dispute as to who should succeed his role as the (religious and political) head of the Islamic world. One faction supported Ali, cousin and son-in-law of Mohammed, while others supported Abu Bakr. In the end, Abu Bakr was elected the first caliph (or successor to Mohammed), followed in relatively quick succession by Umar, Uthman, and then finally Ali. Showing the contentiousness of the power struggles at the time, Umar, Uthman and Ali each met his end by murder. Some blamed the death of Uthman on the Ali faction (now known as Shiites), while the Shiites blamed the death of Ali on the others (now known as Sunnis). Following the death of Ali, the Sunni Umayyad dynasty, based in Damascus, took over the caliphate. During this period, the conflict between the majority Sunnis and the minority Shiites deepened, especially after the Umayyads killed Ali’s son Hussein, much of his family and many of his followers, at a battle near Karbala in now Iraq.

Shiites did not recognize the Sunni caliphs (which office survived to the twentieth century in the Ottoman Empire) but trace the authority of Mohammed through Ali, his wife (and daughter of Mohammed) Fatima and their progeny. Starting with Ali (the first Imam, or leader), then Ali’s and Fatima’s son Hassan (the second Imam), then Hassan’s brother Hussein (the third Imam), and then followed by lineal descendants of Hussein for nine more generations, the Shiites (or more precisely the “Twelver” Shiites, cf. my post of 4.12 for “Sevener” Shiites) recognize twelve Imams, the twelfth one being Imam Mahdi, in the ninth century, who is said never to have died but simply gone into hiding (more on this below). In essence, they form a royal line starting from Mohammed (somewhat reminiscent of the fictional “royal blood” of Jesus and Mary Magdalene described in the book The Da Vinci Code).

The persons of these Imams form a central focus of Shiite worship. This seems, in my view, so elevated that the veneration of the imams approaches something akin to the veneration of Jesus and Mary (that is, in excess of the veneration of saints) among Christians. The names of Ali and Hussein in particular appear in calligraphic form all over Shiite Mosques, emphasizing in my view not only the importance of their persons (in addition to Allah and Mohammed, whose names appear alongside), but also to stress the Sunni/Shiite distinction. We also saw a young man wearing a ring with not the name of God or Mohammed, but Ali.

Ali’s name in tilework Kufic calligraphy, next to swastikas, Friday Mosque, Yazd

Poem honoring Hussein, also in tile calligraphy, Friday Mosque, Esfahan

Shiite Muslims not only honor Fatima and the Imams (the number twelve, representing the Imams, and the number fourteen, representing the Imams plus Fatima and Mohammed, play important symbolic roles), but also accord special respect to the descendants of the Imams. In Iran there are countless (over six thousand according to sources) shrines (called “imamzadeh”) for the relatives of the imams, who take on a saint-like authority to intervene on believers’ behalf. Living relatives of the Imams are also specially respected, and have a special form of dress that identifies them. [More on this to come in my post on Persian identity.]

The veneration of the Imams and their relatives takes one particularly conspicuous form, which seems to me to be a central mode of Shiite worship: mourning. Observant Shiite Muslims mourn the deaths of each of the Imams for several days, putting up black banners and often breaking out into tears. The peak of this mourning is the holy holidays of Tasua and Ashura in the Islamic month of Moharram (this year, in winter), which commemorate the death of Hussein with great ceremony, including the infamous self-flagellation with chains.

We came upon this mourning first in Syria, where there are many Iranian pilgrims visiting holy Muslim (especially Shiite) sites. We thought that many of the Iranians, mostly women in chadors accompanied by a cleric, looked unhappy and seemed unfriendly. As it turned out, this was because (or at least in part because) they were mourning. It is said that crying for the Imams can cleanse sins. One man we spoke to said that his family made an annual pilgrimage to Mashhad to mourn the death of the eighth Imam.

Iranian pilgrims, in chadors, outside the Umayyad Mosque, Damascus, Syria. The Umayyad Mosque contains a shrine to Hussein including a niche in which it is said that the Umayyads placed his head after his death.

Shiite clerics at A-Sayyda Ruqayya Shrine, Damascus, Syria. Sayyda Ruqayya was the daughter of Ali.

We were in Esfahan on the anniversary of the death of Fatima. A parade featuring drums, clerics, a singer and men carrying large black, red and green flags marched through the city, followed by a crowd of men and then women in chadors, to assemble at a main park, where there was chanting and ritualized jumping up and down, slapping of heads and beating of chests. Even in religious Iran, however, the crowd was quite small for a city the size of Esfahan–much larger was the number of people observing and taking pictures and videos with their cellphone cameras.

Another important (and to me previously unknown) feature of Shiite Islam is its millenarianism, or its belief that the world as we know it will soon come to an end. It is believed that the twelfth Imam Mahdi, who was born in 868, went into hiding at age five, just after becoming the twelfth Imam at his father’s death. Still alive, Imam Mahdi will reappear on Earth at a time of great war and disorder, when he will, together with Jesus, restore peace and justice. According to people I spoke to, this could happen at any time, and some Iranians believe that George W. Bush and the state of Israel are signs that Mahdi’s time is coming soon. [It is unclear to me whether it is believed that Mahdi is still alive with his physical body on Earth, or alive in some more abstract sense.] Early Christianity was also a millenarian faith, and of course there are evangelical Christians who daily await the “Rapture.”

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Zoroastrianism

Post author By pkk
Post date May 14, 2008
5 Comments on Zoroastrianism

Religion is a central aspect of human culture, and religious worship and religious edifices make up some of the most interesting and important sights for a traveler to a foreign land. In truth, however, the number of distinct, well-developed religious traditions is limited. As one becomes familiar with the basics of Christianity, Islam, Hinduism and Buddhism, travel offers the opportunity to discover greater details, distinctions among the various subfaiths of these religions, but not the original sense of wonder that is afforded to a Western traveler first encountering Islam in the domes and minarets of Istanbul or an Eastern traveler’s first sight of the great European churches such as St. Peter’s Basilica or Notre Dame Cathedral.

All of which makes it so exciting, as a relatively seasoned traveler, to see an entirely different faith in the flesh. The world’s Zoroastrian population may be limited (at most, 200,000 people), but Zoroastrian communities are highly visible in parts of both India and Iran.

Estimates of the lifetime of Zoroaster (also called Zartosht and Zarathustra–as in Richard Strauss’s Thus Spake Zarathustra of 2001: A Space Odyssey fame) vary, but many scholars currently believe that he lived in the eleventh or tenth century BC. He is regarded as the prophet of the religion named after him, which caught on especially as the dominant religion of the Persian Empire in the Achaemenid and Sassanid periods. The sacred texts, called the Gathas, which are part of the Avestas, are written in an ancient script and chanted by the priests as part of Zoroastrian worship.

audio clip of Zoroastrian chant

Most importantly, Zoroastrians believe in one god, Ahura Mazda, who created the universe and will prevail despite the presence of certain evil forces. It is often said that Zoroastrianism was the world’s first monotheistic religion.

The faravahar is the most important symbol of Zoroastrianism, seen here as carved at Persepolis. The man with his right hand shows obeisance to Ahura Mazda while he holds in his left hand a ring showing his promise to the god. The three layers of feathers in the wings represent good thought, good words and good deeds, while the three layers of feathers in the “tail” represent bad thoughts, bad words and bad deeds, which we should aim to put under us. The ring in the center represents the connectedness of the world and causality. The “leg” to the left represents evil spirits while the “leg” to the right represents good spirits.

We were told that people pray five times a day, oriented toward a light source if possible. The most important light source is the fire that burns at a Zoroastrian fire temple, but it is not considered essential for Zoroastrians to pray at the fire temple–any light suffices. Zoroastrians revere fire as one of the four sacred elements of creation (in addition to water, earth and air), but do not worship it–a common misconception in historical times.

Fire temple, Yazd, Iran

The fire inside the fire temple in Yazd. It is said that the fire, brought from older fire temples, has been burning without interruption since 470 AD.

A water, or Anahita, temple ruin at the city of Bishapur. When used, the central courtyard would have been flooded along with channels that run around an interior perimeter within the walls, on the other side of the doors that are visible.

Zoroastrianism became a state religion under the Sassanids (224-642 AD), who practiced a form of Zoroastrianism that is said to have been contaminated by Mithraism, another local faith. Since Islamic Arab conquest of now Iran in the seventh century, most of the population of Iran has converted to Islam, but around 40,000 Zoroastrians remain. It has been suggested that the decline of Zoroastrianism was due in part to its close association with the Sassanid state.

The Zoroastrian pilgrimage site of Chak Chak, to where it is believed that the last Sassanid princess fled. Low on water at this desert site, she is said to have thrown her staff at the mountain, at which a stream of water began to drip (“chak, chak, chak…”). The bronze doors depict Zoroaster.

At the time of the Arab conquest, a number of Iranians fled to India, where as a minority of around 70,000 centered around Bombay they retain their Zoroastrian faith. The Parsis, as the Zoroastrians of India are called, see themselves as Indians and not Iranians (they speak Gujarati, the language of Gujarat, India, where they first settled after leaving Iran), but maintain their historical and religious links to Iran. Parsis travel to Iran for pilgrimage and communicate with Iranian Zoroastrians on theological matters (although there is no central combined hierarchy), and there has also been intermarriage between the Zoroastrians of Iran and India. Parsis have been very successful, financially, and have provided material support to Zoroastrians in Iran.

A Parsi temple in Bombay, India

Tiled plaque inside the Chak Chak shrine, in Gujarati, the language of the Indian Parsis.

One of the most famous stories of Zoroastrians is that they do not bury the dead. Traditionally, Zoroastrians leave the bodies, which to them are meaningless vessels once the soul has departed, to decay and be eaten by scavenger birds in “towers of silence.” One Zoroastrian priest explained to us with unusually scientific vocabulary for a religious man that this allows the proteins of our bodies to be reincorporated as quickly as possible in another living animal. Towers of silence are no longer used in Iran, where they have been prohibited on health grounds since the Islamic Revolution, but are still used in India, with the help of chemical accelerants to promote decomposition, as the urbanization of Bombay has resulted in fewer and fewer scavengers.

A tower of silence outside Yazd. In the foreground is a cistern, with wind towers to cool the water.

Inside the tower. After the bones had been picked clean of flesh, they were deposited into the ossuary/well in the middle.

Modern Zoroastrian cemetery, Yazd. The bodies are buried in inert cement containers so as to not pollute the earth, one of the four sacred elements.

It’s often possible to recognize Zoroastrians in Iran because though they are ethnically fairly similar to the Muslim Iranians (unlike the Christians, who are largely Armenian), they tend to dress more casually. While they are required to adhere to the Islamic dress code, it seems they take it less to heart. One Iranian Zoroastrian told us that it is a bad time in Iran, with the current Iranian government, and many Zoroastrians, who on average are relatively well off, are emigrating.

Due to strict rules regarding conversion (the Parsis do not permit non-Parsis to convert to Zoroastrianism and the laws of the Islamic Republic of Iran forbid Muslims from converting to other faiths under penalty of death), it seems likely that the world’s Zoroastrian population will further dwindle. [One Parsi told us that complicating the matter is that a majority of Parsi men are gay!] Unless there is a renais
sance in conversions to Zoroastrianism by Iranians seeking a return to their ancient religious roots (that is, after a change in Iranian law), it would seem likely that the religion will, eventually, die out.

An Iranian Zoroastrian man. [Note: Not the source of any information for this or any post.]

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St. Simeon Stylites, or On Asceticism

Post author By pkk
Post date April 21, 2008
1 Comment on St. Simeon Stylites, or On Asceticism

Faith is a funny thing. Ideas that are laughable on any other level become absolute truth and sacred with the addition of religion. Picture yourself as an alien, or someone unaccustomed to civilization on Earth–how would the stories of some of the major religions (Hinduism, Judaism, Christianity, etc.) sound? Likely, at least some of them sound implausible to you already.

Similarly, man in his worship of the gods has done some strange things. Horrible things, too, of course, but setting those aside, the devout have concocted ideas that are simply bizarre. One of the oddest acts, perhaps, that man has performed to be closer to the gods is memorialized in the Byzantine ruins of Qalaat Samaan, or the Church Complex of St. Simeon, outside of Aleppo.

St. Simeon “Stylites” (390-459) was born in Syria and entered a Christian monastery at age 16. From the start of his monastic career, he showed a taste for athletic asceticism, including fasting for extended periods of time and fitting himself into tight spaces in which he could only stand upright (note the similarity to forms of torture!). Eventually his feats of privation led to fame, which he tried to escape by climbing and living atop a pillar. As his fame grew, so did his pillar, which grew to a peak height of 15 meters, at the top of which sat a railed platform that was his entire living space. From his pillar, he would speak to his adoring crowds, who made pilgrimage by the thousands to his pillar outside Aleppo. St. Simeon by the end of his career was famous throughout the Roman world, even the Emperor seeking his advice on theological matters. By his death, he had lived 37 years (!) on his pillar, and sparked hundreds of copy-cat stylites, or pillar-living ascetic monks.

The rock visible through the left central door is said to be what remains of the pillar, which has been cut down by souvenir-hunters. The large church complex was built around the pillar after St. Simeon’s death.

My introduction to this post aside, I like to think that had I been born in a different time and place, I might have been a monk, and asceticism appeals to me. It makes perfect sense to me that to seek retreat into the nonphysical realm one must withdraw from the physical, including by refraining from pleasures of the body, which act as distractions, focusing one’s attention on the senses and placing one more in the body than within the mind. For a shorter-term example, think about the darkness and silence that is standard for many places of worship, or libraries, for that matter. I have never been in a sensory deprivation tank, but I think the fundamental idea is the same–by placing yourself in darkness, as far as the inputs of the material world are concerned, you concentrate on the mental/spiritual. Asceticism also contributes to the spiritual life in terms of longer-term life goals. Vows of chastity and poverty, for example, seek to eliminate from a person’s agenda perhaps mankind’s two greatest personal pursuits, leaving more time for contemplation and the life of the mind. Asceticism, by shifting priorities, creates time and energy for different kinds of accomplishment.

Original floor tiling in the main basilica.

The asceticism of St. Simeon, however, seems to me somewhat different than the monastic ideal that I describe in the previous paragraph. Rather than mere withdrawal from pleasure, this is a type of asceticism that is focused on the creation of pain. Instead of quieting bodily signals, in order to focus on thoughts disconnected from the body, this second type of asceticism seeks to generate a bodily response, to a spiritual end. Living on top of a narrow and exposed pillar, starving for extended periods of time, wearing deliberately uncomfortable clothing, whipping oneself–these are all methods of this second kind of asceticism. Why? Doesn’t this have the opposite effect, distracting oneself with pain and discomfort, similar to the distraction of bodily pleasure? One might answer that the pain punishes the body, which is essentially evil, or that the discomfort acts to stimulate/guide thoughts as a reminder of the power of god (and perhaps his ability to damn us to eternal pain should we not conform to his teachings) or the suffering of martyrs. Or, in the case of shorter-term discomfort, such as the daytime fast of the Islamic holy month of Ramadan, the breaking of the fast each night can serve to heighten our appreciation for god’s gifts to us (of life and food). [I also suppose in an anticlerical mood one could argue that certain individuals actually derive perverse pleasure from the self-generated pain.]

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The Real Syria

When we tell people that we’re American, one of the things we are told is that we must go back and tell people what Syria is like, to combat ignorance and misperception. This post aims to fulfill this repeated request.

***

Coming to Syria, I had of course done some research. I knew the basic history of Syria, at least from ancient times to the Ottoman period, and knew which historical monuments I was most interested in seeing. We also very much looked forward to our reception by the Syrians, who we were told were, even by Middle Eastern standards, famous for their hospitality and the genuine warmth with which they treat foreign visitors. But there were, I am embarrassed to admit, many things about Syria I didn’t understand, and for purposes of this post I must explicitly address my ignorance. Travel at its best acts to lift such veils from our eyes, and I am thankful for my newfound understanding and hope that you find it a worthy read, even if you do not suffer from my prior shortcomings.

Syria has a secular government.

Because Syria is so often mentioned in the same breath as Iran (in U.S. foreign policy and media), and because it has supported Islamist groups outside its borders (most famously Hezbollah, the Party of God, in Lebanon), I was under the mistaken impression that Syria was politically Islamic. I didn’t think that it was a quasi-theocracy, but I did think that its government would have a more Islamic bent than other Arab countries and that its people would be more rigidly orthodox.

This could not be further from the truth. Syria’s government is almost totally secular and Islam has no special status under Syrian law (contrary to most other Arab countries). The president of Syria, Bashar al-Assad, is, like his father Hafez (president, 1971-2000), an Alawite, a religious minority that is derived from Islam but which some Muslims believe to be a heresy, and the Assads have given a fair amount of power to Alawites and other religious minorities in the Syrian government. If anything, Islamists have been viewed as a threat to the regime, and Syria has already fought and won its war against Islamist militants: In 1982, in a huge show of force called the Hama Massacre (and a massacre it was, with up to 20,000 dead), the Syrian government wiped out the Syrian branch of the Muslim Brotherhood–even today, they are active in almost every Islamic country but Syria.

The Assads even use pagan iconography! Bashar as Sun God. [More images of Assads Sr. and Jr. to come in a future post]

Every Christian we have spoken to in Syria (and we have spoken to many–although a 10% or so minority I think they speak English or choose to speak to us disproportionately) states unequivocally that all religions are equal under Syrian law and that they have no issues whatsoever with freedom of worship. In this regard, they truly feel themselves fortunate to live in Syria rather than other Arab countries. People of different faiths seem to get along perfectly well and there are many interfaith friendships, even if they do not intermarry.

Mass, Armenian church, Aleppo

[A secular, developing Arab country, firmly governed–as a couple Iraqi refugees explained to us, Syria must be what Iraq was like, before we attacked. If we’re so keen on stopping Islamofascism or whatever, why are we targeting the secular countries?]

Arab does not equal Muslim.

Because the religion of Islam arose out of Arabia, and is so closely connected to Arab ethnicity and the Arabic language, it is easy to fall into the misunderstanding that all Arabs are Muslim and most Muslims Arabs. Of course the latter is not true (from Iran westward lives a huge percentage of the world’s Muslim population, including Iranians (who are not Arabs), South Asians, Indonesians, Central Asians and Chinese Muslims), but it’s also important to keep in mind all of the Arabs that are not Muslims.

Orthodox Christian procession, Aleppo

In Syria there are very large numbers of Arab Christians (some 10% of the population), belonging to numerous faiths (Greek Orthodox, Greek Catholic and Maronite perhaps foremost among them). They form a sizable and visible minority in major cities and even a majority in certain towns. Syria has some of the world’s oldest Christian communities, given its proximity to the Holy Land, including in Maalula, where the local population still speaks Aramaic, the language that was spoken by Jesus. My namesake Paul was famously converted in Damascus, many important early saints and theologians lived their lives in Syria and Syria was a core part of the Christian Byzantine empire until the time of the Arab Islamic conquest (a testament to this being, in addition to the living churches, the huge numbers of religious sites and churches that lie among the Byzantine, and older, ruins).

Statue of Mary and crosses, Maalula

Even after the region came under the control of the caliphs, Christians prospered (freedom of worship for Christianity and Judaism is a core Islamic practice, as the three faiths all worship the same god) and formed a significant percentage of the population. In the twentieth century, because of Syria’s continuing tolerance and secular government, many Christians (ranging from Armenians fleeing Turkey to Iraqi refugees fleeing war) have sought refuge here, expanding the local Christian population.

Many faiths are represented in the Christian district of Aleppo.

Syria excels in the amount of apparent harmony there is among different religious groups, but there are also large Christian populations in other Arab countries. Lebanon was originally created by the French to be a majority Christian Arab country, and the Copts form a sizable minority in Egypt (one of my closer friends in high school came from a Coptic family). Christians make up a significant minority in Palestine as well. This may be stating the obvious, but Arab Christians are just as Arab as Arab Muslims, culturally (although Christian women may dress less modestly), linguistically (using the Arabic language for worship, including the Arabic word for god, Allah) and ethnically (that is, you cannot “tell them apart”).

[It is important to note here, although the topic really merits a separate post, the extent to which Christian and Muslim Arab opinion on the issue of Israel is essentially the same–for Arabs, the Israeli issue is not fundamentally a religious one but a national and political one; in fact, given that Israel grants citizenship to all Jews regardless of national origin, enlarging the Israeli population and arguably displacing both Muslim and Christian Arabs from their ancestral homes, some people we have spoken to see the Jewish position as the fundamentally religion-based one, perhaps somewhat contrary to what people think in America, which is that the Arabs must be the ones who are religiously driven. Especially seeing the bizarre support by some American evangelical Christians for Israel, it is tempting to agree that Zionism is far more faith-based than the Arab position.]

Syria is as much a part of the Mediterranean world as it is a part of the Middle East.

Though I, not having traveled much in southern Europe, cannot make this observation definitively as to lifestyle, it seems to me evident in the diet and character of the people, the terrain and of course history, that Sy
ria can be viewed as part of the Mediterranean world. The staples here include olives and cheese, and the cuisine is of the universal mediterranean variety that one finds in the Levant, Turkey and Greece. People are expressive and in appearance (and often dress, as far as the men are concerned) no different than southern Europeans. [Post on this to come.] The hillsides surrounding the Crusader castles reminded me far more of southern France than I thought they would, leading me to think that the Crusaders may not have felt so far from home after all. And, historically, the region has been oriented westward toward the sea (as part of the worlds of the Phoenicians, Romans, Byzantines, Crusaders) as much as east- and southward toward Iran and Arabia (and has often been a balancing point between the two).

In the souk

Countryside near Krak des Chevaliers (in upper right)

Syria is ethnically diverse.

There are two points here. The first is that there are significant and visible ethnic minorities in Syria, including Kurds (2 million, or about 10%) and Armenians (100,000). While they all speak Arabic and are integrated into the country (identify themselves as Syrians), they often know their ancestral tongue and participate in their own cultures. One Kurdish driver we hitched a ride with (Kurds are sometimes quick to identify themselves as Kurds, even unsolicited) proudly blasted loud Kurdish music. Other Kurds we have met were eager to discuss our perception of Kurds. Armenians are united not only by ethnicity but by their faith, and can be seen attending church services. Unlike the Kurds (who to us are not easily identified by appearance), Armenians tend to be fair in coloration and somewhat easier to distinguish. One Armenian woman explained to us how flights from Aleppo (the main home of the Armenian community in Syria) to Yerevan were always full and hard to book.

A Kurdish woman

Armenian youth outside an Armenian church in Aleppo

The second point, and I think the more interesting one, is that “Arab” ethnic identity is far more complicated than I imagined. Unlike in the Gulf, where Arab carries with it a certain homogeneous outward appearance, Arab people in Syria have very diverse appearances. This must be because of the many, many peoples who have flowed in and out of the area over time, and gradually become assimilated to Arab language, culture and identity. The Arab armies at the time of the Arab conquest, after all, did not massacre and replace the local population–it is that the (largely already Semitic) people who were here became Arabized over time (not to mention the people who arrived after the Arab conquest–presumably there are descendents of Crusaders and Mongols in Syria). Color in terms of skin, hair and eyes varies widely, far more widely than I expected–so much so, that there are people here who could pass for almost any caucasian ethnic group, from Indian to northern European (who knew we would see so many redheads in the Middle East!). [Post on this to come.]

Traditional dress does not indicate a puritanical mindset.

Does not really illustrate the point, but a fun picture–the women apologized for getting in the way, although of course they were an essential part of the composition.

I think, before coming here, I had a sense that people who dressed in very traditional Arab Islamic clothing must take themselves (and their religion) very seriously, and so were so pious as to be un-fun. It seemed that people who wanted to set themselves apart from the modern world in such manner must want also to keep their distance from outsiders and their ways. While it is true that a woman wearing a burka is likely to be fairly reserved and cautious in her interactions with a foreign man, many people we’ve met in what in the West would be considered some form of Islamic dress have not at all matched the stereotype that I held.

At play in the courtyard of the Grand Mosque in Aleppo

A friendly cleric outside the Grand Mosque in Aleppo

In terms of behavior, wearing a veil here in Syria seems to predict almost nothing. Young women in Syria wear all sorts of modern western clothing (often tight, though not exposing much skin), and sometimes accessorize with a sexy scarf to cover the head (often topped with a pair of trendy sunglasses). The “veil”, though perhaps dictated by custom, merely becomes another accessory and not one that defines their modern outlook. And some of these young ladies are among the most flirtatious in the world!

A modern Syrian woman, Aleppo

A group that we met at Apamea. The young ladies, though dressed in black, were very made up and sexy. As they passed us, they asked us (in Arabic) to take their pictures (as many Syrians do). When we took the camera out, however, the older woman who was with them (a teacher?) scolded them and tried to block us, while the girls kept trying to evade her and get photographed. Even after they passed us, they kept looking back and giving us very, um, warm, smiles.

Similarly, we’ve met older women in full black dress who are incredibly friendly and even playful, sometimes encouraging their children and even daughters to interact with us and practice the English they’ve been learning. Derek swears that a woman in a burka shot him with a squirtgun at the Aleppo Citadel.

Waving hello, Aleppo Citadel

Enjoying an ice cream in the Damascus souk (incidentally, the ice cream, which is from a very famous store called Bekdach, is horrible). This woman posed for Derek for what must have been at least thirty clicks.

photo religion Syria

Assassins

Post author By pkk
Post date April 12, 2008
1 Comment on Assassins

Because it was on the way, and because we will be visiting other Assassin castles in Iran, we took a detour on our way to Krak des Chevaliers to see Misyaf fort. The fort itself is not particularly noteworthy, but I thought I would take this opportunity to provide a little background on the Assassins.

To explain the origins of the Assassins, it is necessary to go back to the early years of Islam, in the seventh century. After the death of Mohammed in 632, there arose a dispute as to who should succeed his role as the (religious and political) head of the Islamic world. One faction supported Ali, cousin and son-in-law of Mohammed, while others supported Abu Bakr. Abu Bakr was elected the first caliph (or successor to Mohammed), followed in relatively quick succession by Umar, Uthman, and then finally Ali. Showing the contentiousness of the power struggles at the time, Umar, Uthman and Ali each met his end by murder. Some blamed the death of Uthman on the Ali faction (now known as Shiites), while the Shiites blamed the death of Ali on the others (now known as Sunnis). Following the death of Ali, the Sunni Umayyad dynasty, based in Damascus, took over the caliphate. During this period, the conflict between the majority Sunnis and the Shiites deepened, especially after the Umayyads killed Ali’s son Hussein, much of his family and many of his followers, at Karbala in now Iraq, following an uprising.

While the Shiites have been out of the majority and power in most of the Islamic world since, there have been significant times and areas when they came into control. One of the most important areas was and remains Iran, where Shiites form a majority. Another was the Cairo-based Fatimid caliphate (910-1171, named after Fatima, daughter of Mohammed and wife of Ali), which ruled much of North Africa, Egypt and nearby lands.

In 1094, the Fatimids suffered from their own succession problem. Some of the Shiites in Iran refused to accept the Fatimid ruler in Cairo and formed a somewhat radical rebel group, known as the Assassins.

As you may know, the word “assassin,” which we use now to describe a professional killer, derives from the Assassins, who are called Assassins because it was rumored that they took hashish before embarking on their missions. And much like the contemporary English meaning of the word and its derivative, assassination, the missions of the Assassins, their method of operation, was murder: the strategic killing of Sunni Muslim leaders, including those of the Seljuk (Turks) of Anatolia and attempts on the life of Saladin. The Assassins would work by embedding an operative, sometimes over the course of years, in order to murder, or assassinate, a prominent leader or otherwise powerful or influential person.

Saladin’s greatest success, prior to his defeat of the Crusaders at the Battle of Hattin in 1187, was the conquest of Egypt from the Fatimid caliphate in 1171. After terminating Fatimid rule, Saladin wanted to consolidate his (Sunni) control over the region, including by wiping out the Assassins, who had expanded into now Syria from their bases in Iran and were particularly active under the leadership of Rashid al-Din Sinan, also famous to the Crusaders as the Old Man of the Mountains. In 1176, Saladin sieged the castle of Misyaf, an Assassin stronghold since 1140. According to legend, Saladin woke up one morning during the siege to find on his bed a dagger or poisoned cake and a threatening note, making clear that the Assassins had infiltrated his camp and could murder him at their will. The siege was called off.

The Assassins were largely destroyed (along with so many others) by the Mongols in the 13th century, although some descendent communities are believed to exist today.

Column capital at Misyaf, evidence of earlier fortifications at the site

photo religion Syria

Umayyad Mosque of Damascus

Post author By pkk
Post date April 10, 2008
4 Comments on Umayyad Mosque of Damascus

At the heart of the old city of Damascus, or shall I say *the* heart of the old city, is the Umayyad, or Great, Mosque, one of the first monumental buildings of Islam (finished in 715, only 83 years after the death of Mohammed), on a site that has been a place of worship since at least 900 BC (and perhaps much further back–the history of Damascus goes back to perhaps 5000 BC). A history of the mosque is a history of Damascus itself, and in some ways a history of the world.

Door detail

The most obvious way to reach the Great Mosque is through the Hamidiye Souk, the biggest market in the old city of Damascus. Although the broad, uniform market that you see today dates from Ottoman times, the street itself and its existence as a commercial thoroughfare dates from (at least) the Roman period, when a colonnaded street led directly to the western entrance to the Temple of Jupiter that was located on the present site of the Great Mosque.

Typical scene, Hamidiye Souk

Remains of Roman arches outside the western (main) entrance to the mosque

After the Roman Empire adopted Christianity as its state religion in the fourth century AD, the Temple of Jupiter was converted into a Christian church dedicated to John the Baptist. Walking around the mosque to the south wall you see a remnant from the Christian church, above a doorway that is now blocked. In Greek, the language of the eastern Roman (or Byzantine) empire, an inscription of Psalm 145 reads, “Your Kingdom, Christ, is an everlasting kingdom, and your dominion endures throughout all generations.”

[picture to come]

But the Christian Byzantine Empire’s hold on Damascus did not endure. In 636, just a few years after Mohammed’s death, Arab Islamic power seized Damascus, which joined an empire that would stretch all the way from now Spain to Central Asia. And in 661, with the start of the Umayyad dynasty, which temporarily transformed the caliphate (or head of the Islamic world) into a hereditary, quasi-monarchical institution, Damascus became the capital of the Arab Empire (a status it would hold for a bit under a hundred years, when the caliphate moved east to Baghdad).

Initially, relatively little changed in the life of the newly conquered cities, which were set in their well-established historical patterns. Greek and other non-Arabic languages remained in wide use, and Jews and Christians were allowed to continue to worship according to their own customs, with few limitations (Islam respects Judaism and Christianity as predecessor faiths in the same tradition and to the same god). But as Islamic power became more established the empire wanted to express its prestige in the form of Islamic architecture (not least of all to match the tremendous Christian architecture that was already all over the Levant and the Byzantine Empire). In 691, Umayyad caliph Abd al-Malik built the Dome of the Rock, on the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. Caliph al-Walit, son and successor to al-Malik, wished to endow Damascus with a similarly magnificent structure and negotiated with the local Christian community for the site of the Church of John the Baptist. In 715, the Great Mosque of Damascus was completed.

Arab control over now Syria has also been interrupted. In the eleventh century, the Crusaders landed on the coast, and thrice attacked but never captured Damascus, in the twelfth century. Just to the north of the Grand Mosque is the tomb of the leader Saladin, who defeated the Crusaders in the late 12th century to restore Arab Islamic control over the eastern Mediterranean. Saladin, who was ethnically Kurdish, was renowned by all not only for his military victories but his sense of fairness and mercy in his treatment of conquered Christians (unlike some of the Crusaders, who committed horrible atrocities against conquered Muslims). After a period of Mamluk control, the Ottoman Empire ruled over Damascus until the end of the first World War, when the French controlled Syria under a quasi-colonial “mandate.” Syrian independence arrived after World War II.

Saladin’s marble tomb on right, with tomb of his secretary on left

Let us enter the mosque. Islamic sites (like Hindu sites and those of other religions, I suppose) differ on whether non-Muslims may enter. Generally in Syria, we have found that all are welcome, even in the holiest sites such as the Umayyad Mosque and its shrines.

Looking in from the northern door

Of course, proper attire is required, which for some women (including improperly dressed Muslim women) means the borrowing of a rather ugly brown robe, giving the impression that a group from some Druid cult is visiting the mosque.

The Great Mosque was one of the largest buildings of its time and is said to have cost a tremendous sum, inviting criticism of the lavish spending by the Umayyad leaders. The center of the mosque is a large courtyard surrounded by columns, some of which date from the previous Christian, and even pagan, structures at the site. Most of the surfaces surrounding the courtyard were covered with rich mosaics. The many remaining or restored mosaics in place today give a true splendor to the courtyard, although sadly most of the originals were destroyed in various disasters (Mongol invasions, earthquakes and fires).

Courtyard, facing west

Restored mosaic

While mosques are of course places of worship, as a theological matter they are more like convenient gathering places than consecrated ground, and you can find family and youth using the courtyard of the Great Mosque as something like a public park or playground, lending the space a levity of spirit matched by the lightness of the reflective marble floor. Plenty of children seek to interact with the foreign tourist, girls shyly peeking while boys ask to have their picture taken.

On the north side of the courtyard (left, on the picture of the courtyard above) lies the prayer hall, topped at the center by a high dome. The prayer hall itself is a cavernous space, with three “aisles” formed by large transverse arches. The feeling of the space is much like a basilica (perhaps because the layout is not dissimilar from that of the former Church of John the Baptist), but worship is not oriented along the aisles toward an altar but across the narrow width, to face the mihrab, or prayer niche facing Mecca, which is the central feature of all mosques. Central courtyard plus “church-like” interior prayer hall is the typical Arabic mosque style, to be distinguished from Turkish or Iranian styles. Reflecting the continuity from Christianity to Islam, and from Christian church to Islamic mosque, one of the largest features of the prayer hall of the Great Mosque is a shrine that is said to contain the final resting place of the head of John the Baptist, where it is venerated by Muslims and Christians alike. The relic was reportedly found in a crypt when the Great Mosque was constructed in the 8th century.

Shrine of John the Baptist, prayer hall

Another reminder that Islam sees itself as the successor to Jewish and Christian tradition is that Islam considers Jesus to be a prophet (along with the notables of the Old Testament). Built in the 13th century while the city was under M
amluk control, the Minaret of Jesus stands on the southeastern corner of the Great Mosque.

Minaret of Jesus, seen above a Roman arch

Perhaps the most interesting thing about the Great Mosque is that, like so many other sites of worship, it has been a sacred place for so many different faiths. Religious worship is oddly conservative–even as the gods and the dogma change radically, holy sites persist, sometimes along with forms of worship. Presumably, much of this is due to “new” religions adopting sites and practices of older faiths, which had held places of prestige and reverence in local populations for centuries prior. While in the case of the Great Mosque of Damascus, some of the reason was likely practicality–nowhere else in the heart of the city was there such a large, open site, prebuilt with walls and other structures–continuity of places of worship is such a common phenomenon that other factors were also likely at play. It is an interesting pattern indeed, and perhaps one I will cover in a future post.

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