The Arabs' image of the ideal human; why is the choice? Light notes on Hodgson's seminal work, Venture of Islam
In this response, I look at a concept that Hodgson
mentioned in passing, but never quite developed, at least not sufficiently.
This concept is the construction of the image of the ideal human. This aspect
is perhaps the most profound element in Hodgson’s treatment of this
period—profound because of what it reveals about the social dynamics, and also
because of its implications on the development of history.[1] As our understanding of
how societies perceive and react to an existing ‘order’—that is, the existing
laws, modes of governance and social mores— enhances, we learn that the
conception, creation and dissemination of narratives provide often an indirect
commentary on the dominant social order. In cases where the dominant ‘order’ is
not preferred, such commentary often carries with it a challenge or some form
of resistance to this order.[2] The construction of an
ideal human image is not different. It is only when the current ‘order’ of
things looks unsatisfactory, or otherwise depressing that an alternative
‘order’ is imagined. Any ‘order’ depends on the presence of dedicated actors
who strive to fulfill the requirements (do the acts) that ensure its continuity.
To the extent that these actors are able to, and successfully,
carry these required acts that this system prospers. Those who carry the most
vital acts earn more recognition. And those who earn most recognition become
the embodiment of the acts they performed and by extension of the system at
large. Their role, in turn, get collapsed—and with it the rest of the
system—into the personality of the most prominent member in this last group.
This personality becomes the human image of the system. For those living under
the system, this particular human image may be perfect or flawed. The
construction of an alternative image indicates discontent with the current
one. Moreover, the degree to which this alternative image is different
from the symbol of the current order inevitably reflects the degree of
discontent with it.
In the Middle Period, Islam did not have a single unified
system, with a good or bad leadership to which an alternative image maybe
constructed. There were instead multiple systems, and hence different images.
The fragmentary nature of this universe produced multiplicity of the images of
human ideals. Even though the construction of these images stem from the
absence of a unified power reference, each image reflects a way of looking at the
current state of fragmentation; and each provides a way to solve it.[3] Evidently, the
level of dissatisfaction with the ‘order’ of things was not the same in every
respect or from every segment of the Muslim culture. It is, therefore, expected
that there will be a gradation in how the ideal image contrasted with the
present ‘order’; the more contrast an image reflects, the more discontent it
reveals. This could in part explain the difference between the ideal human
image adopted by the Arabs and the one adopted by others. (Other considerations
such as cultural differences do account for the choice and nature of this human
image, but they play an auxiliary role in this respect).
The main contrast between the image constructed by the Arabs, a
hero such ‘Antarah and his Persian counterpart, Rustam, lies not in what they
do, but in their attitude to the political atmosphere around them. In the
Persian narrative, there is a king, an established political order that Rustam
fights for. In contrast, the Arabic choice of narrative reflects an
anti-authoritarian and anti-establishment sentiment. The hero is a tribal
slave, denied his dues by his own community and the unjust hierarchical order
imposed on him. ‘Antarah is loyal to his community, but only when it extends to
him the recognition he deserves. The way in which his community deprived him of
freedom is comparable (as far as the Arabs are concerned) to the way Arabs
denied the leadership role in Islam, which they take to be rightly theirs. More
important to the collective Arabic conscious, a hero likes ‘Antarah represents
“a visible independence from the agrarian authorities.”[4] Still, it is
important to remember that the complaint is not as much against the political
and social order of the 10th century Islam, it is an Arabs’
complaint against the role they play in it. Like the tribe of ‘Antarah which
suppressed his freedom, the Arabs seem to have felt that their elites
suppressed the ‘Antarah (a sense of pride and dignity that shouldn’t be
compromised under any circumstances) that lived in them.
The far reaching implications of this image seem to have been
the exact antithesis of what it was originally intended for. As the image of
the power-rejecting Arab Bedouin hero solidified, so did the Arabs’ desire to
retreat from and boycott the political system.[5] In the coming centuries,
the Arabs would deal with the existing power structure as a foreign (although
not too foreign as to require direct confrontation) layer of bureaucracy that
they had to deal with for their own survival, but one that does not directly
concern them. The hands off approach adopted by of most dynasties that fought over
the influence in the land of Islam made this attitude of indifference [6] to power possible.
It should be noted that there are both similarities and
differences between the Arab and the Persian heroes. Much like ‘Antarah, the
image of the Persian hero is one that reflects discontent with power. Even
though the 10th and 11 centuries witnessed a transfer of the role of
Persian high class from mere employees and subjects of the caliph in Baghdad
into that of independent military leaders in several areas of Islam,
particularly in Iraq and part of Iran, there were still two aspects that stood
in the face of a fully independent Persian culture. The first was the
subordinate role Persian language played in the life of people even in the
areas where Persian dynasties were in control. The second was the rise
influence of some Turkic and non-Turkic elements that Persian leaders had to
deal with. Therefore, the ideal image of the hero had to account for this
incomplete sense of independence. He must be a person who defeats the
enemy and helps re-establish the kingdom. As it should be clear now,
unlike ‘Antarah, this hero comes from within the establishment—not from
without.
This kind of image construction is relevant today in the context
of the Arab world, where a general sense of dissatisfaction has prevailed at
least since the creation of modern Arab states in the second half of the 20th
century. As the leaders of these countries projected the issue of Palestine as
a cornerstone of the Arab liberation movement, the goal of ending the
Palestinian plight became the background against which leaders’ success is
measured. Since these leaders have failed in this context and in many others,
the collective conscious of the masses have sketched images of alternative
heroes and saviors. Of these the image of Saladin was the most enduring. Images
of men like ‘Antarah are often invoked but only in local context where
anti-authoritarian hero is needed. For a global cause, Saladin is much more
appropriate candidate than ‘Antarah. The image of ‘Antara exemplifies a triumph
over a local authority, whereas Saladin represents an authority figure that
leads the community to victory over a more serious and alien enemy.
As a final note, it should be said that the construction of the
ideal image has ramifications that go far beyond what had hitherto been
discussed. The Algerian philosopher, Malik b. Nabbi and other anti-colonial
theorists spoke of the presence of certain cultural traits that make certain
cultures more prone to accept domination. Cultures that do not have these
traits naturally resist domination. By way of extension one can wonder whether
the conception of the image hero reflects a cultural trait that can be
correlated to this vulnerability to domination. It is instructive to consider
that the ‘Arab’s hero is reactive. He is a person who accepted enslavement. And
even though he reacted, he is reaction was quickly soothed by his tribes
recognition of him. The power structure of ‘Antarah’s world’s before he reacted
is the same as the one after his reaction, except for one fact: he is free.
‘Antarah satisfies himself with this minor achievement. In contrast, Rustam has
never been enslaved, and in his adventures he takes the initiative. The
implication of these contrasts on the modern Arab and Iranian encounter with
colonial powers is a food for thought!
[1] - The reasons and the implications of these are not hard to
understand. Ideal human image is conceived not only for emulation, but
primarily for salvation. People resort to creating an ideal human image when
they feel that such image is lacking in their present lives. To be sure, the
creation of the ideal human has an educational aspect to it as it presents a
human model whose words and actions others can strive to emulate. However, it
is only educational in its secondary function. The primary function of the
erection, as well as adoption of the image of an ideal human, is morally political,
or politically moral. It is an expression of frustration, of dissatisfaction
with the present ‘order’ of things.
[2] - In his book, Domination
and the Arts of Resistance, James C. Scott speaks of hidden
transcripts in comparable ways. Scott theorizes that outside the realm of
resistance there are two ways in which people respond to domination. The first
is a public image that is staged in the presence of the dominant group in which
the dominated seems courteous and submissive. The second image is an offstage
image reflected in the absence of domination from a location of safety where
the members of the dominated group reveal or share their real feelings. Scott
calls the former “public transcripts” and the latter “hidden transcripts.” The
creation of the image of ‘Antarah with all the anti-authoritarian legacy that
it carries by a group from outside the corridors of power can certainly be
explained as a form of hidden transcript writing.
[3] - There was indeed no one dimensional way of looking at
salvation or to the venue through which salvation may be attained.
Therefore, there were many images of the ideal man—who could be a Sufi, an
adventurous hero, a clever yet cunning orator, such as Abu Zayd in Maqamat of
al-Hariri (see Hodgson pages 160 &161). Still, the multiplicity of the
images of the ideal human and the plurality of the venues from which they are
constructed reflect the sense of loss and confusion characteristic of the
Muslim life in this period.
[5] - The few ‘Arab dynasties that sprang in the Maghrib or in the
Hijaz in the later period of the Ottoman reign are the exception that proves the
rule.
[6] - It should be noted that indifference here doesn’t mean a
complete retreat from the power nor total disassociation with it. And it is
precisely in this fact that lies the paradoxical nature of the Arab hero.
Adapting an image of a hero that belongs to a pre-Islamic pagan society
centuries after Islam became both the de jure and de facto superstructure may
seem contradictory at the apparent level. However, this image makes sense in
its context in a number of ways. First, most of Arabs’ heroes in
the Islamic period emerged—at least as leaders—from the corridors of power.
Second, all segments of the Muslim community can in theory claim them. As a
result, they neither project anti-authoritarian figures, nor do they
exclusively represent the Arabs. Yet, a man likes ‘Antarah does. Finally,
adapting ‘Antarah allows for the paradoxical relationship with the established
order to continue. ‘Antarah is not a recognized leader of his tribe, yet he
does seem to believe in the benevolence of their cause enough to fight for
them. Likewise, espousing the image of ‘Antarah permits the Arab to, at least,
voice discontent with the culture and its power structure without permitting his
discontent to prevent him from doing his share of responsibility.
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