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Title: Historical Legacy and the Challenge of Modernity in the Middle East: The
Case of al-Azhar in Egypt. By: Hatina, Meir, Muslim World, 00274909,
Jan2003, Vol. 93, Issue 1
Database: Academic Search Elite
Historical Legacy and the Challenge of Modernity in the Middle

East: The Case of al-Azhar in Egypt
Contents
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Religious knowledge, limited mainly to adults, was perceived in the
Ulama and
Modernization in
traditional Islamic conception as a sacred value. To attain it was
Nineteenth-Century
equivalent to an act of worship or embarking on a holy war, and
Egypt
teaching it meant drawing close to Allah.(n1) In the early history of the
Muslim community, the mosque was the center of teaching, beyond its
Al-Azhar and the
Egyptian Nation-State
basic role as a place of worship and congregation. The late eleventh
century, however, witnessed the rise of another, higher institution of
Religion and State in
learning, the madrasa, dedicated mainly to the study of Islamic
Post-Revolutionary
jurisprudence (fiqh). The madrasa was intended to guarantee the
Egypt
perpetuation of judicial study and meet the needs of an expanding
Conclusion
state system. Men who were educated there became religious
functionaries, judges, notaries, and ministers. The madrasa emerged
Endnotes
as an important vehicle for social mobility, becoming one of the pillars
of the sociopolitical order in the urban Muslim world. Occasionally, it
served as a lever by which its wealthy patrons could gain political
influence. The law taught in the madrasa was a stabilizing mechanism
in society, with its scholars, the ulama, functioning as mediators between ruler and subjects.(n2)
The best-known madrasa in the Muslim world is Cairo's al-Azhar, established in 972 C.E. For
centuries, al-Azhar occupied a prominent religious status as the bastion of Islamic learning in Egypt
and throughout the Muslim world. The Mamluk and Ottoman military elite sought political
legitimation from it, while the common people looked to it for protection and representation during
periods of economic and social upheaval.(n3) Its position of influence, however, was threatened
with the disruptive encounter between the Muslim world and Europe in the nineteenth century. This
encounter posed multiple challenges to al-Azhar and its exponents, the ulama, over time: the
emergence of the Egyptian state under Muhammad 'Ali and his successors, which turned al-Azhar
into a bureaucratic arm of the government; the offensive mounted by nationalist modernists, who
aimed to transform Islam from a binding religious norm to an ethical code; dissident political Islam,
which denounced the ulama's submission to oppressive rulers; and, finally, the Nasserite regime,
which further entrenched al-Azhar in the state apparatus.
How al-Azhar coped with these challenges, and what its successes were in this respect, is the topic
of this paper. More broadly, the present study illuminates the relationship between religion and state
-- a burning issue in Egypt's political agenda -- while reconsidering the historiographical narrative
that tended to minimize the role of established Islam in modern times. In the event, bending to the
authority of the state did not mean the total submission of the religious establishment, and the loss
of its monopoly over educational and intellectual life did not result in marginality.
Ulama and Modernization in Nineteenth-Century Egypt
The ulama constituted the educated elite in Egyptian society, acquiring this distinction by virtue of
intensive training in religious studies rather than by ethnic origin or inheritance. Their social
composition was diverse and their activity multi-faceted, encompassing holding such posts as
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judges, preachers in mosques and lecturers in madrasas. High-ranking ulama were also linked to
the political center, allowing them a foothold in trade and other economic spheres. Their legal
authority and moral influence in society, enhanced by their adherence to the prohibition of revolt
against any Muslim ruler so as to avoid civil strife (fitna), protected the ulama, in contrast to other
segments of society, from oppression. They used this relative immunity from interference by the
secular power to advantage, functioning as a stabilizing factor in society by ensuring the obedience
of subject to ruler in exchange for the ruler's ongoing loyalty to Islamic precepts.(n4)
The most prominent religious post in Egypt was that of shaykh (rector) al-Azhar, established,
apparently, at the end of the seventeenth century. Under the Ottomans (1517-1798), who displayed
respect for religious law and punished all who deviated from it, al-Azhar attained two major
accomplishments: it became a well-equipped and prestigious learning institution, and it became fully
identified with the religious establishment.(n5) However, the intellectual quality of Islamic learning
within al-Azhar eroded, especially during the eighteenth century, primarily because of the reliance
on rote learning and the perception of religious texts as unquestioned truth.(n6) Gradually, agents of
popular culture, such as the Sufi orders and coffeehouses, challenged the scholasticism of the
ulama. Moreover, the life of luxury led by senior ulama and their preoccupation with reward and
honors evoked criticism.(n7)
Nevertheless, the ulama were able to preserve their function as mediators between the regime and
the population because of their linkage to the ruling elite, their hold over Islamic knowledge, and
their commitment to the religious principle of social justice embodied in the Shari'ah. It was the
ulama who were the spokesmen of urban protest against fiscal exploitation and other economic
grievances. In fact, the power of the ulama increased in times of political instability, mainly toward
the end of the eighteenth century with the gradual decline of the Ottoman Empire and the renewal
of the struggle over political hegemony between Ottomans and Mamluks.(n8) As Egyptian scholar
'Abd al-'Aziz al-Shinnawi aptly observed, "while the Ottomans and the Mamluks held military and
state power, the ulama of al-Azhar represented the popular leadership."(n9)
The French occupation of Egypt and the elimination of the Ottoman-Mamluk elite (1798) left the
ulama without backing, but also released them from their traditional submission to the ruler. A1Azhar became the focus of resistance to the French, using its entrenchment in the lower classes to
advantage. The ulama rejected Napoleon's appeal to serve as the new political elite of Egypt, a role
that was never within their scope, either ideologically or historically.(n10) Although several leading
ulama agreed to become members of the general council (diwan) established by Napoleon in Cairo
to assist in administering the country's affairs, al-Azhar served more as a source of opposition to
than cooperation with French policy. This was manifested by the two revolts that erupted in the
capital, in October 1798 and March 1800, in which the ulama played a leading role.(n11) With the
withdrawal of the French army from the country in 1801, not only did the ulama refrain from
opposing the renewal of Ottoman sovereignty over Egypt, they even supported an external
candidate, Muhammad 'Ali, as the new governor. All they asked for was the restoration of the
traditional political system, which in the past had enabled them to amass political influence and
economic power.
Muhammad 'Ali, an Ottoman officer of Albanian origin with dynastic ambitions, did not, however,
fulfill the ulama's expectations. Under his centralist rule and sweeping reforms, they lost their
traditional function as arbiters between state and society. Their control over the waqf and the iltizam
(tax-farming system) was abolished. In the words of Daniel Crecelius, they were "expelled from
Olympus."(n12) Ultimately, they were absorbed into the new state apparatus as civil servants and
became totally dependent on the goodwill of the ruler. The termination of the long and intimate
relationship between the ulama and the political elite resulted not only in political isolation but also
in ideological stagnation.(n13) Most of the ulama positioned themselves outside the processes of
change aimed at improving state functioning and enhancing Egyptian autonomy in the nineteenth
century. They were also at a disadvantage because of the innate geopolitical structure of Egypt, a
country whose vast population was concentrated along the Nile Valley, facilitating central
governance.
If the Egyptian ulama turned their back on modernization, their colleagues in the Fertile Crescent, by
comparison, supported the Ottoman reform policy (tanzimat) so long as it did not jeopardize their
own interests or violate fundamental Islamic tenets. For example, they backed such steps as
taxation and a military draft, but resisted granting equity to non-Muslims. The relative geographic
remoteness of the Syrian cities from Istanbul and a shortage of human and financial resources in
effectively applying the reforms enabled the ulama and other local notables there to steer a safe
course between the central authority and their own communal interests.(n14)
The Egyptian ulama, in contrast, found themselves on the defensive. Still, they remained a
significant factor in the Egyptian scene. Muhammad 'Ali, and to a large degree his successors,
focused mainly on reinforcing the power of the state by developing its military and economic
capabilities. They did not, however, substantially interfere in the daily lives of the masses, thereby
allowing for the preservation of much of the ulama's moral authority. The ulama were still perceived
as the defenders of the faith and interpreters of the Shari'ah. In addition, just as al-Azhar was
incorporated into the state system, so were the Sufi orders, whose activities and ritual practices
were supervised closely by state law, thereby undermining their ability to pose an attractive
alternative to establishment Islam. As Frederick De-Jong observed, Sufi orders were transformed
into "a fully fledged bureaucratic system." Moreover, relations between al-Azhar and the Sufi orders
were cordial and less alienated than might be expected. Many notable religious figures who held
key posts in al-Azhar were also affiliated with the Sufi ideology and orders, and, as such, were able
to extend their popular influence.(n15)
The prestigious status of the ulama in society was acknowledged by key figures in educational
reform during the nineteenth century. For example, Rifa'a Rafi' al-Thatawi (1801-73), while criticizing
the ulama's rigidity and urging them to expand their knowledge in the modern sciences, did not deny
their pivotal role in shaping the self-image of society and called on the government to consult them
in affairs of state. Similarly, Thatawi's most prominent disciple in modernizing Egypt's education
system, 'Ali Mubarak (1819-93), pointed to al-Azhar's numerous moral and academic defects, yet
referred to it as a mosque and college devoted to "abolishing ignorance and granting eternal life to
the world of knowledge."(n16)
The ambivalent position of the ulama -- deprived of political and economic power, yet exerting
significant influence on society as the arbiters of religious life -- was the outcome of several factors:
1) The continued allegiance of the ruler (if only on the declarative level) to the Islamic ethos of the
organic unity between state and religion and the supremacy of the Shari'ah, an ideal nurtured by
Muslim jurists for centuries;(n17) 2) The elitist nature of secular higher education in Egypt,
concentrated mainly in the capital, side-by-side with the sustained opposition of the ulama to
substantive reform in their religious institutions;(n18) and 3) The disruptive encounter with the West,
characterized by the erosion of old institutions and informal networks based on patronage,
residence and kinship ties, without replacing them with effective new ones -- a development that
led, inter alia, to the 'Urabi revolt and the British occupation of Egypt in 1881-82.
The British, as foreign Christian rulers, were primarily interested in stabilizing Egypt's economic and
administrative structures, and far less in molding the value system of local society, which was
Islamic in essence. Lord Cromer, who, as British consul general (1883-1907), shaped the course of
Anglo-Egyptian relations more than any other British official, viewed Muslim society as intolerant
and suppressive, posing a great obstacle to any fundamental change. The true Oriental, in Cromer's
perception, was a loyal conservative, a trait that precluded any possibility of reforming his belief
system.(n19) Cromer's skepticism regarding the viability of cultural reform, which led to noninterference by the British in local religious life, played into the hands of al-Azhar, which viewed "the
freedom of religion and its independence from foreign influence as a sacred value in the lives of the
Egyptians."(n20) This mindset contributed to the obstruction of reformist efforts in al-Azhar's
curriculum and institutions by Shaykh Muhammad 'Abduh, mufti of Egypt (1898-1905).(n21) It also
posed a serious obstacle to the emerging secular version of Egyptian nationalism put forward by the
Umma (Nation) Party, which sought to entrench Egyptian identity based on Egypt's geographical
and cultural uniqueness (i.e., the Nile Valley and Pharaonic heritage) rather than on Islam.(n22)
Al-Azhar and the Egyptian Nation-State
The post-First World War period in the Middle East witnessed the collapse of the traditional Islamic
order embodied by the Ottoman Empire, and the establishment of territorial entities that underwent
an accelerated process of state building and national cohesion. This process had begun in Egypt in
the nineteenth century with political autonomy from Istanbul under Muhammad 'Ali's dynasty and,
later, from British occupation. A landmark in the advance of Egyptian nationalism was the revolt
against the British in 1919 led by Sa'd Zaghlul and the Wafd, followed by the installation of a
constitutional monarchy in 1923.
Al-Azhar's influence on Egyptian national politics during the 1919 revolt and its aftermath, especially
in terms of relations with the British government, was marginal. In contrast to the active role played
by the ulama in urban protest during the Mamluk-Ottoman era and the French occupation, they had
ceased to be spokesmen of importance by the advent of the 1919 revolt. They were unrepresented
in the political leadership of the movement for independence, which was made up of the new
Westernized elite -- landowners and professionals, mainly lawyers. Furthermore, the modernization
process in the Middle East entailed change in the very pattern of urban protest. Previously, such
protest had been linked to the mosque as its nucleus, but this gave way to new forms of collective
action involving labor and student militancy in factories, secondary schools and new colleges
expressed through strikes and boycotts.(n23)
Nevertheless, al-Azhar continued to play an important role in perpetuating strong religious
sentiment among the masses. Its students and shaykhs (especially lower-level functionaries) were
among the first to instigate protest against the British throughout Cairo and its environs.(n24) In this
respect, the 1919 revolt, despite its explicit national and secular goals, was imbued with an
underlying religious fervor. The ulama used this fervor to back the process of national coalescence,
but also to curtail it when it posed a menace to religious institutions or drifted toward the violation of
the entrenched Islamic ethos.
Although the constitution of 1923 formed the basis of the Egyptian parliamentary system and was
the cornerstone of the intellectuals' expectations of national rebirth, its implementation was
hampered by the political struggle between the palace and government, exacerbated by unrelenting
British intervention behind the scenes. Islam was used as a political lever in this struggle, especially
by the palace, with the energetic backing of al-Azhar -- both exponents of the old order. The new
political elite, for its part, tended to display caution on all issues touching on religious law, stemming
from an awareness of Islam's entrenched position in society and the need for political legitimation
under British occupation.(n25) The political elite, in short, did not control the cultural agenda of
Egyptian society.
The disputed issue of the status of Islam in the state left room for al-Azhar to make itself felt on key
issues on the Egyptian agenda, such as the restoration of the caliphate after its abolition by Atatrk
in 1924, or the neutralization of what it viewed as vicious assaults on Islam by modernist
intellectuals. Prominent intellectuals who challenged the religious establishment in the 1920s
included Ahmad Lutfi al-Sayyid, 'Ali 'Abd al-Raziq and Taha Husayn.(n26) Responding, al-Azhar did
not limit itself to denouncing the distortion of Islam's image but also acted as excommunicator based
on its perceived authority as sole interpreter of tradition.
A reflection of the bitter disputes between modernist writers and al-Azhar over the status of Islam
can be found in Taha Husayn's autobiography, al-Ayyam (1940), in which he attacks traditional
religious learning. He notes that "whereas in Cairo the ulama come and go and no one takes much
notice of them ... in the provinces you see the learned and the shaykhs of the towns and villages
coming and going in an atmosphere of majesty and respect." Notably, in referring to the so-called
'popular' ulama in the provinces, Husayn meant those not affiliated with al-Azhar but others who
were ignorant in legal matters, such as Sufis.(n27)
Taha Husayn's and other modernists' disdain of al-Azhar notwithstanding, it remained the bastion of
orthodox Islam in Egypt with the active support of the palace. The king promoted al-Azhar as an
important political ally in his struggle against his rivals in the government and parliament -- mainly
the popular Wafd Party, thereby further impeding the prospect of reform in the religious
establishment. In return, al-Azhar repeatedly expressed gratitude and loyalty to the king, who
"defends the sacred values of Islam from the mockery of recklessness."(n28)
Scholars such as Daniel Crecelius have argued that the rejectionist attitude of the ulama toward
religious reform, especially in the educational and judicial realms, was dictated mainly by selfinterest, i.e., their desire to regain political and economic power.(n29) This argument, however, is
problematic, as it elevates the ulama's material motives over their ideological ones. In the Islamic
perception, the existence of a faithful and moral society is an essential precondition for preserving
Islam from distortion. The means to create such a society are education and law, particularly, which
play a central role in shaping social and cultural values. Islam, like Judaism, and in contrast to
Christianity, is closely bound to a legal system. It goes beyond maintaining faith and aspires to
monitor human conduct. Man is a social creature but he is influenced by passions that must be
restrained and controlled by the enforcing power of the state, i.e., the law. Obeying the law is a
social obligation, insuring harmony and justice, but it is also a religious act, fulfilling the will of God.
As a well-known Muslim saying goes, "The science of the Law is the knowledge of the rights and
duties whereby man is enabled to observe right conduct in this life and to prepare himself for the
world to come."(n30)
Undoubtedly, an ideological raison d'tre going beyond material gain prompted the ulama to defend
the Islamic image of the Egyptian state, thereby perpetuating their own religious status as well. In
al-Azhar's perception, the subordination of politics to theological goals reflected the Islamic notion of
the functional role of the state in defending the faith and enforcing its commands in society. This
also accounts for al-Azhar's assertiveness in its relentless campaigns against modernist writers who
tended to transform Islam into an ethical code. Such determination was applauded, even by Shaykh
Muhammad Rashid Rida (1865-1935), a bitter critic of the religious establishment,(n31) who
nevertheless praised the devotion of many ulama to eliminating heresy and moral corruption in
society. Rida attributed the successes of the ulama in this area to the legal status of Islam as the
state religion.(n32)
By the end of the 1920s, al-Azhar found itself simultaneously waging an intensive battle on two
fronts: against the government over its mounting efforts to bring about substantial reform in the
country's religious and educational institutions, and against the Ikhwan, a newly emergent populist
movement. The Ikhwan, in promoting an activist political conception of Islam, challenged the
religious authority of the ulama, holding them responsible for the moral corruption of society
because of their dogmatic thinking and submission to the political elite. The challenge posed by
both the government's reformist policy and the Ikhwan weakened al-Azhar's status, but did not
neutralize it, for two main reasons. First, the march of reform in al-Azhar was slow and subject to
setbacks, especially as it was linked to the political struggle between the palace and the
government. Reformist measures were supported by only a few open-minded ulama and in any
event were focused mainly on structural aspects, leaving the traditional curriculum almost
untouched.(n33) Second, the rivalry between al-Azhar and the Ikhwan never reached the stage of
confrontation and remained contained. Hasan al-Banna (1906-49), founder of the Brothers, decried
al-Azhar's submissiveness to the regime in contrast to its glorious past as defender of justice and
welfare for the people, but he took care to maintain cordial relations with its leaders. The most
prominent of these was Shaykh al-Azhar Mustafa al-Maraghi (1928-34, 1935-42), regarded by the
Ikhwan as a model scholar who truly worked for the renewal of Islam.(n34) Other prominent ulama
preached in the Ikhwan's mosques and wrote for their publications. The fact that al-Azhar controlled
a wide range of religious institutions throughout Egypt, which could be useful for the Ikhwan, was
another reason for al-Banna to display a conciliatory approach toward al-Azhar.(n35)
Despite ideological strife and a power struggle between the two camps, they shared the view of
Islam as a comprehensive framework for faith and conduct. Each side contributed to enhancing
religious consciousness in society: the Ikhwan by nurturing political activity based on an effective
civil infrastructure, and al-Azhar by promoting worship and enforcing conformism in its ranks with
royal backing. Both sides also cooperated on occasion to abolish immoral social conduct, such as
prostitution and gambling, and suppress dissident views perceived as deviating from Islam.
Such was the case in 1947 regarding Muhammad Khalaf Allah, a doctoral candidate in the faculty of
Arabic literature at Cairo University, whose dissertation was disqualified by the university committee
because it questioned the authenticity of certain episodes in the Qur'an. Both al-Azhar and the
Ikhwan noted that what was perceived by Khalaf Allah as legitimate human reasoning (ijtihad) was
nothing more than a device to destroy faith, and demanded "purifying Cairo University and all the
schools in Egypt from every sign of heresy."(n36) Another famous case was that of writer Khalid
Muhammad Khalid, who in 1950 called for the separation of religion and state in his book Min Huna
Nabda' (From Here We Start). The book was banned at the demand of both al-Azhar and the
Ikhwan. Several months later, however, a court ruling allowed the circulation of the book basing
itself, significantly, on Islamic arguments to support its decision, a pattern that reflected the cautious
approach of the government to the issue of religion and state.(n37) This approach promoted the
rationalization of the Egyptian legal system according to Western codes, while absorbing, rather
than ignoring, Islamic tenets.
The establishment of Nasser's regime in 1952 marked a new phase in al-Azhar's history. The
regime expropriated religious authority from the ulama by abolishing the Shari'ah courts in 1956 and
transforming al-Azhar into a state university in 1961. It also intensified the incorporation of Sufi
orders into the state apparatus. These steps were aimed not at excluding Islam from political
discourse but rather at motivating it to endorse government policy, namely, Pan-Arabism in the
regional arena and the suppression of the Ikhwan domestically. Sufi orders, with their popular
networks in the countryside, could provide the regime with easy access to rural populations, while
their close relations with other Sufi branches in the Muslim world, especially in North Africa, could
helped disseminate the Pan-Arab ideology.(n38)
Al-Azhar and the Sufi orders did indeed provide ideological backing for the regime's revolutionary
messages. While this reflected the subordination of the religious establishment to a highly
centralized government, nevertheless, it helped the ulama curtail the drift of Nasserist ideology
toward far-reaching secularization. Shaykh al-Azhar Mahmud Shaltut (1958-63), for example,
endorsed Arab socialism as deriving its legitimacy from Islam while denouncing Western socialism
as a hedonistic prescription for materialistic gain.(n39) This damage-control tactic was the best the
ulama could do, given the loss of their quasi-autonomy. Their modus vivendi was characterized by
obedience and maintaining a low profile in national politics and foreign policy, while focusing on
preserving al-Azhar's central role in molding the self-image of society. They defined Islam as the
cornerstone of Muslim culture and viewed the injunction "to enjoin good and forbid evil" (Q3: 104)
as "one of the weapons of the immutable truth" by which to protect the Islamic character of society
from "cultural distortion."(n40)
This religio-centric stance was best exemplified by the resignations of three shaykhs of al-Azhar
between 1952 and 1958 in protest against growing interference by the state in the internal affairs of
the institution. In response, the government appointed military figures to fill key positions in the alAzhar administration, but they failed to gain the full cooperation of the ulama. In contrast to their
academic counterparts at Cairo University, the al-Azhar ulama were more provincial and rural, a
profile which engendered greater conservatism on such social issues as education and family life.
Furthermore, the introduction of secular sciences into al-Azhar's curriculum under the law of 1961,
which aimed to turn the traditional madrasa into a more modern university, Failed to weaken the
predominant status of the theological sciences.(n41) Rejecting demands by modernists to transform
al-Azhar into a faculty of theology within a modern university, the regime opted, through the reform
law of 1961, to preserve the separate status of the religious institution and turn it into a symbol in
the struggle for national viability. This objective was also reflected in an impressive growth in alAzhar's budget, which in 1966 reached E 7 million, as compared to E 900,502 in 1948.(n42)
Although, as James Jankowski has argued, the religious dimension was secondary in Nasser's
hierarchy of meaningful political loyalties,(n43) it was, nevertheless, an essential component of the
regime's political legitimacy. Nasser dismissed the concept of the caliphate as irrelevant to modern
times,(n44) but he could not publicly deny the organic unity between religion and state. In fact, he
used religion for political ends at two crucial stages of his Pan-Arabist drive: in announcing the
nationalization of the Suez Canal from al-Azhar mosque in 1956; and in depicting the Arab military
defeat to Israel in 1967 as a message from Allah to the nation to purify itself from sin.
In addition to continuing to provide a moral base for the state's authority, Islam also served as an
institutional framework for social transactions. Two proposed legislative bills aimed at improving the
status of women in the family and society (1960, 1967) were shelved as a result of political
considerations and mounting pressure by al-Azhar.(n45) Gabriel Baer correctly pointed to the
sustained power of religious and kinship relations in Egyptian society, especially among the lower
strata and in the provinces.(n46) Shaykh al-Azhar Shaltut himself revealed his perception of the
role of Islam in the state by declaring: "He who expresses loyalty to the faith but denies the Shari'ah
... is not a Muslim in the eyes of Allah."(n47)
Clear evidence of al-Azhar's continued assertiveness in matters of faith under the Nasserist regime
is reflected in the affair surrounding Shaykh 'Abd al-Hamid Bakhit in April 1955, which has been
overlooked in literature. Bakhit, a professor of theology at al-Azhar University, published an essay
about fasting during the month of Ramadan in which he argued that if a Muslim feels that fasting
may damage his health even slightly, he is allowed to eat. This assertion evoked a public storm.
Bakhit was put on trial, found guilty of distorting a fundamental ordinance, and dismissed from his
post. Forbidden to teach at any academic institution, he was given a clerical job in a religious
institution in the provincial town of Damanhur.
Justifying this severe punishment, Shaykh al-Azhar 'Abd al-Rahman Taj (1954-58) insisted that
Bakhit, in his article, had denied a religious command and harmed the social order. As an
authorized representative of al-Azhar, Bakhit could not be regarded as a private person expressing
his own opinion. Therefore, according to Shaykh al-Azhar, his statement could be interpreted as
allowing any Muslim who wished to avoid fasting the right to do so. The Shari'ah, however, cites
only specific instances, such as old age, sickness, pregnancy, prolonged travel or hard labor, as
conditions for breaking the fast, and even then requires the fulfillment of this duty at a future time.
The essay had caused great confusion in Islamic circles in Egypt and abroad, Taj said. He rejected
the charge that Bakhit, as 'Abd al-Raziq 30 years previously, had been subjected to a religious trial.
The discipline committee at al-Azhar, he explained, attempted to persuade Bakhit to retreat from his
erroneous opinion. It was not a religious forum for differing views about the issue of fasting. In the
same vein, the ulama council at al-Azhar insisted that while freedom of thought must be respected,
it needed to be restricted when red lines were crossed and when matters of faith were at
stake.(n48) Later, in 1963, a fatwa (legal opinion) published in Majallat al-Azhar described fasting as
an explicit obligation with noncompliance punishable by the charge of apostasy (murtadd).(n49)
Ideological rigidity by Shaykh al-Azhar Taj and other senior ulama was evidenced on other issues
as well, for example in their view of bigamy as a religious obligation and human need,(n50) a stance
which discomfited those elements in the government who advanced the cause of individual liberty
and equality in Egyptian society. Taj was forced to resign from his post in 1958.
Al-Azhar's sanction against Bakhit elicited enthusiastic support from the Ikhwan,(n51) while at the
same time meeting with little public resistance from liberal secular intellectuals. Only a few of these,
led by Taha Husayn, protested against the violation of freedom of thought and the unacceptable
proclivity of al-Azhar to use allegations of heresy against those who disagreed with it.(n52)
Eventually, al-Azhar's verdict in the Bakhit matter was overruled by the Supreme Administrative
Court in November 1955, based on procedural irregularities. The court ordered that Bakhit be
restored to his former post as a lecturer, but did not address the issue of freedom of belief in
matters of faith.(n53) This avoidance preserved the legal status of the ulama in the religious ethos,
marginalizing the advocates of freedom of thought.
Religion and State in Post-Revolutionary Egypt
The preoccupation with religion in Egypt became even more pronounced in the post-revolutionary
era under 'Abd al-Nasser's successors, Sadat and Mubarak. The Islamic resurgence in the 1970s
marked the end of an era of optimism in various Arab states in light of the poor results achieved by
adopting Western ideologies ranging from liberalism to socialism. Expressing disillusion with the
pursuit of Western ideas, the Egyptian writer Yusuf al-Qa'id stated: "Our ambitions were greater
than our possibilities. We stepped forward but we found no ground underneath us; we lifted our
heads to touch the clouds and the sky disappeared from above us."(n54)
Within this context, political Islam in Egypt moved from the periphery to the political center,
managing to place its demand to implement the Shari'ah on the public agenda. This development
also affected al-Azhar, which continued to back the regime in the inter-Arab and international
arenas, but increasingly shared with the Islamic opposition the declared goal of the Islamization of
Egypt. Toward this end, its spokesmen displayed a reconciled attitude toward the militants,
describing them as lost youth who failed to grasp the true meaning of Islam. As one shaykh put it,
"Why do the youth turn right? Because they have always aspired for the best. This is a healthy, not
a sick, phenomenon."(n55)
However, the radicals' refusal to acknowledge the religious authority of the ulama due to their
"submission to the infidel regime" forced the ulama into a defensive position, compelling them to
demonstrate their devotion to the Islamic cause even more explicitly. Many of them, including
Shaykh al-Azhar, played a vocal role in the struggle over the cultural orientation of Egyptian society
by denouncing Muslim modernists who challenged religious conventions. Some of these modernists
found themselves fighting in court to express their views freely.(n56)
In these campaigns, al-Azhar, along with the Islamic opposition groups, relied heavily on the
institution of hisba, namely, the religious obligation of every Muslim to "enjoin good and forbid evil."
The intensive use of hisba against every act perceived as distorting Islam may be understood in the
context of the historic legal anomaly that assigned wide autonomy to religious law in matters of
personal status and moral ethics. These matters, in contrast to political and economic
arrangements, were the subjects of detailed treatment in the Qur'an, proving thereby to be
formidable obstacles to advocates of social modernization. Clear evidence of their dilemma is to be
found in the fate of the Personal Law of 1978 (Law No. 100), which improved the status of women,
especially in divorce and child custody cases, but which was amended in 1985 to appease the
religious camp.(n57) While the amendments did not quite meet the demands of al-Azhar and the
Islamic opposition to abolish the law completely, they were perceived by liberals as having a
regressive effect on the status of women and as attesting to the political distress of the government.
Indeed, state courts managed to employ various Islamic legal loopholes to promote the socially
liberal agenda of the regime, but this did not conceal the reality that the courts became yet another
arena for the Islamic struggle over Egypt's cultural orientation.
The fact that Sadat's and Mubarak's regimes were forced to enhance the linkage between Islam
and the Egyptian state, and lean toward al-Azhar in order to counter the militant challenge, allowed
the ulama to make effective use of state channels, including the media and courts, to advance their
cause. A1-Azhar's assertiveness was exemplified by its firm opposition to any legal reforms in such
areas as personal status, birth control and organ transplantation, and its support of the censorship
of films, plays and books perceived as harmful to Islam.(n58) A governmental decree of 1994
declared that state recognition of the absolute authority of al-Azhar in matters of faith in order to
guarantee public order and social morality befitted a country whose official religion was Islam. The
decree also stated that the Ministry of Culture is bound by al-Azhar's decisions regarding books,
television and radio broadcasts.(n59)
Its de facto, and eventually de jure, acquisition of authority as the guardian of Islamic ethics allowed
al-Azhar to become involved in a wide spectrum of cultural life, especially the delegitimation of
writers with dissident views in matters of faith. Two famous incidents in the early 1990s are worthy
of note in this context. One involved the liberal politician and intellectual, Faraj Fuda, who was
denounced as an apostate because of his support for the separation of religion and politics. He was
murdered by militants in 1992. The other involved Cairo University lecturer Nasr Hamid Abu Zayd,
who was forced by a court ruling in 1995 to divorce his wife because of his "heretical" views. As a
result, the couple emigrated to Europe.(n60) Significantly, al-Azhar and the Islamic opposition joined
forces in these and other affairs. While the ulama did not challenge state authority or seek political
positions, as did the Ikhwan or the radicals, they were determined to fill their role as guardians of
the faith in society.
Conclusion
This paper examined the role of al-Azhar in the modern Egyptian polity, which during the past 200
years was exposed to a quite different ethical code of behavior -- secular and Western, with a
hedonistic dimension. Scholars such as H. A. R. Gibb, Harold Bowen, Afaf Lutfi al-Sayyid Marsot,
Ira Lapidus, Gabriel Baer, P. J. Vatikiotis and Hava Lazarus-Yafeh have stressed the decline and
degeneration of the Egyptian religious establishment in modern times as a result of this
exposure.(n61) Other scholars, such as Gilles Kepel, Emmanuel Sivan and Martin Kramer, have
tended to downplay the ongoing role of al-Azhar in Egyptian society and politics, or to emphasize
the challenge to its religious authority by other elements in the Islamic spectrum.(n62) As this paper
shows, the decline of the institution was relative.
In retrospect, al-Azhar lost its political and economic assets but acquired alternatives from the state,
such as official budgets, government posts, new institutions under its control and media exposure.
Its spokesmen, the ulama, lost their monopoly as scholars and educators but retained much of their
moral influence in society, especially the ulama of the lower ranks and in areas remote from the
capital. This was so even though, in contrast to the past, they had to share this influence with other
Islamic groups, especially the Ikhwan. The Ikhwan judiciously commended al-Azhar's history of
protecting Islam from distortion, calling upon the government to remove constraints on al-Azhar's
activity so that it could disseminate its messages freely and become the beacon of the Muslim
world.(n63) This sympathetic stance reflected a pragmatic desire to exacerbate the ideological
predicament of the regime while enhancing the Ikhwan's own political status.
Ultimately, it was the cultural wellspring of Islam -- its canonic texts, symbols, rituals and monuments
-- that served al-Azhar as its most effective resource in evoking historical authenticity and advancing
its cause. As anthropologist Clifford Geertz put it, religion does not stop at the metaphysical level
but gains earthly substance through its cultural and psychological functions. It not only describes the
social order in cosmic terms, but shapes it.(n64) The palpable presence of Islam in Egypt's social
fabric guaranteed the significant role played by al-Azhar. The very fact that this ancient institution
was singled out systematically for attack by politicians and modernist thinkers both in the pre- and
post-revolutionary periods was a further indication of its abiding position in the country's religious
landscape.
Endnotes
(n1.) On the role of education in Islam, see Ahmad Shalaby, History of Muslim Education (Beirut:
Dar al-Kashshaf, 1954), 161-162; A. S. Tritton, Materials on Muslim Education in the Middle
Ages(London: Luzac, 1957), 27-29; A. L. Tibawi, Islamic Education (London: Luzac, 1972), 35-46.
(n2.) On the madrasa, see George Makdisi, The Rise of Colleges (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University
Press, 1981); Gary Leiser, "Notes on the Madrasa in Medieval Islamic Society," Muslim World 75
(1986): 16-23.
(n3.) On al-Azhar in pre-modern times, see, e.g., Bayard Dodge, al-Azhar: A Millennium of Muslim
Learning (Washington, D.C.: Middle East Institute, 1961), 1-32, 35-75; Bernard Lewis, "An
Interpretation of Fatimid History," in Colloque International sur L'Histoire du Caire (Cairo: Minister of
Culture of the Arab Republic of Egypt, 1972), 288-294; Jonathan Berkey, The Transmission of
Knowledge in Medieval Cairo (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1992), 128-160, 183-218;
Michael Winter, Egyptian Society under Ottoman Rule 1517-1798 (London: Routledge, 1992), 118127.
(n4.) Carl F. Petry, The Civilian Elite of Cairo in the Later Middle Ages (Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press, 1981), 246-271; Afaf Lutfi al-Sayyid Marsot, "A Social-Economic Sketch of the
Ulama in the Eighteenth Century," in Colloque International sur L'Histoire du Caire, 313-319; Winter,
109-127.
(n5.) Winter, 118-127.
(n6.) See, e.g., 'Ali Mubarak, al-Khitat al-Tawfiqiyya al-Jadida li-Misr al-Qahira (Cairo-Bulaq: Dar alKutub, 1887-1889), Vol. 4, 36-38; J. Heyworth-Dunne, An Introduction to the History of Education in
Modern Egypt (2ed., London: Frank Cass, 1968), 36-42; Jamal al-Din al-Shayyal, "Some Aspects of
Intellectual and Social Life in Eighteenth-Century Egypt," in Political and Social Change in Modern
Egypt, eds. P. M. Holt (London: Oxford University Press, 1968), 117-132. Individual ulama,
however, did rejuvenate certain traditional legal concepts and displayed an interest in such fields as
poetry, history, medicine and astronomy. Nelly Hanna, "Culture in Ottoman Egypt," in The
Cambridge History of Egypt, ed. M. W. Daly (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), Vol.
2, 94-100.
(n7.) Hanna, 100-112; 'Abd al-Rahman al-Jabarti's History of Egypt, eds. Thomas Philipp and
Moshe Perlmann (Stuttgart: F. Steiner, 1994), Vol. 3, 97-98.
(n8.) Daniel Crecelius [Ph.D. dissertation], The Ulama and the State in Modern Egypt (Ann Arbor,
MI: University Microfilms, Inc, 1967), 61-74; Abu Warda al-Si'adufi, Jami' al-Azhar wa-Shuyukhuh fi
al-'Asr al-'Uthmani (Cairo: Matba'at al-Amana, 1994), 162-206. On the ulama and social protest,
see Jane Hathaway [MA Dissertation], The Role of the Ulama in Social Protest in Late EighteenthCentury Cairo (Austin, TX: The University of Texas, 1986), 24-77. See also Edmund Burke III,
"Understanding Arab Protest Movements," Arab Studies Quarterly 8 (Fall 1986): 334-336.
(n9.) 'Abd al-'Aziz al-Shinnawi, "Dawr al-Azhar fi al-Hifaz Gala al-Tabi' al-'Arabi li-Misr ibbana alHukm al-'Uthmani," in Abhath al-Nadwa al-Duwaliyya li-Ta'rikh al-Qahira (Cairo: Dar al-Kutub,
1971), Vol. 2, 667-725.
(n10.) On al-Azhar during the French occupation, see Crecelius, 85-92; 'Abd al-'Aziz al-Shinnawi,
Suwar min Dawr al-Azhar fi Muqawamat al-Ihtilal al-Faransi (Cairo: Dar al-Kutub, 1971).
(n11.) See, e.g., Sa'id Isma'il 'Ali, al-Azhar 'ala Masrah al-Siyasa al-Misriyya (Cairo: Dar al-Thaqafa,
1974), 99-122.
(n12.) Daniel Crecelius, "Non-ideological Responses of the Egyptian Ulama to Modernization," in
Scholars, Saints and Sufis, ed. Nikki R. Keddie (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1972), 180.
(n13.) Ibid., 180-185.
(n14.) Albert Hourani, "Ottoman Reform and the Politics of Notables," in Beginnings of
Modernization in the Middle East, eds. William R. Plok and Richard L. Chambers (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1968), 41-68; Moshe Ma'oz, Ottoman Reform in Syria and Palestine
1840-1861 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968), 75-107.
(n15.) See, e.g., Frederick De-Jong, Turuq and Turuq-Linked Institutions in Nineteenth Century
Egypt (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1978), 14-20, 33-35, 50-51, 62-64, 125-140; idem., "Opposition to Sufism
in Twentieth-Century Egypt 1900-1970: A Preliminary Survey," in Islamic Mysticism Contested, eds.
E De-Jong and Bernd Radtke (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1999), 312; Haim Shaked, "The Biographies of
Ulama in Mubarak's Khitat as a Source for the History of the Ulama in Nineteenth-Century Egypt,"
Asian and African Studies 7 (1971): 62-64.
(n16.) Haim Shaked, "The Views of Rifa'a al-Thatawi on Religion and the Ulama in the State and
Society," Hamizrah Hehadash 16 (1966): 284-88; Mubarak, Vol. 4, 13, 28-29. See also Michael J.
Reimer, "Contradiction and Consciousness in 'Ali Mubarak's Description of al-Azhar," International
Journal of Middle East Studies 29 (1997): 57-64.
(n17.) A. Lambton, "Islamic Political Thought," in The Legacy of Islam, eds. J. Schacht and C. E.
Bosworth (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1974), 404-424.
(n18.) See, e.g., Heyworth-Dunne, 395-405; Malik Muhammad Rashwan, Ulama al-Azhar bayna
Bunabart wa-Muhammad 'Ali (Cairo: Matba'at al-Amana, 1989), 408-412; 'Abd al-Muta'al al-Sa'idi,
Ta'rikh al-Islah fi al-Azhar (2ed., Cairo: Matba'at al-I'timad, 1965), Vol. 1, 39-43.
(n19.) See, e.g., Earl of Cromer, Modern Egypt (2ed., London: Macmillan, 1908), Vol. 2, 130-136,
143-148.
(n20.) Fakhr al-Din al-Zawahiri, al-Siyasa wal-Azhar (Cairo: Matba'at al-'Itimad, 1945), 17-18.
(n21.) Charles C. Adams, Islam and Modernism in Egypt (2ed., New York: Russell and Russell,
1968), 68-103.
(n22.) On the Umma Party platform, see Walid Kazziha, "The Jarida Group and Egyptian Politics,"
Middle Eastern Studies 13 (1977): 373-385.
(n23.) Burke III, 337.
(n24.) On al-Azhar and the 1919 revolt, see Cercelius, 256-265; Gabriel Baer, "Islamic Political
Activity in Modern Egyptian History: A Comparative Analysis," in Islam, Nationalism and Radicalism
in Egypt and Sudan, eds. G. R. Warburg and Uri M. Kupferschmidt (New York: F. A. Praeger,
1983), 41-44; Majallat al-Azhar 27(1956/57): 396-400. See also Burke III, 337.
(n25.) On the issue of Islam in Egypt in the 1920s and the '30s, see Michael Winter, "Islam in the
State: Pragmatism and Growing Commitment," in Egypt From Monarchy to Republic, ed. Shimon
Shamir (Boulder: Westview Press, 1995), 57-59.
(n26.) Martin Kramer, Islam Assembled (New York: Columbia University Press, 1986), 86-105;
Adams, 248-249. See also the Muhammad Abu Zayd affair in the early 1930s in Ami Ayalon,
Egypt's Quest for Cultural Orientation (Tel Aviv: Moshe Dayan Center for Middle Eastern and
African Studies, 1999), 7-9. On al-Azhar's opinion about freedom of thought in Islam, see Majallat
al-Azhar 6 (1936): 411-417.
(n27.) Taha Hussein, The Days (Cairo: The American University, 1997), 47-52.
(n28.) See, e.g., Crecelius, "Non-ideological Responses of the Egyptian Ulama to Modernization,"
199-204; Muhammad 'Imara, al-Islam wa-Usul a-Hukm li-'Ali 'Abd al-Raziq (Beirut: al-Mu'assasa al'Arabiyya li'l-Dirasat wal-Nashr, 1972), 91-92.
(n29.) Crecelius, "Non-ideological Responses of the Egyptian Ulama to Modernization," 185, 190191; idem., The Ulama and the State in Modern Egypt, 304.
(n30.) See, e.g., H. E. R. Gibb, Modern Trends in Islam (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1947), 85-90; Lambton, 404-424; Daniel Pipes, In the Path of God (New York: Basic Books, 1983),
29-47.
(n31.) See, e.g., al-Manar (Cairo) 8 (1905): 117, 789.
(n32.) Ibid., 30 (1929), 507-508. See also Ahmad al-Zawahiri, al-'Ilm wal-ulama (Tanta: al-Matba'a
al-'Umumiyya, 1904), 9-13; Miriam Shiftan, 13-20, 44-51, 62-72, 75-90. Social and Religious
Aspects of Muslim Life as Reflected in the Formal Legal Opinions of the Muftis of al-Azhar (Hebrew;
Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University, 1983).
(n33.) Crecelius, The Ulama and the State in Modern Egypt, 256-272, 290-328; al-Zawahiri, alSiyasa wal-Azhar, 33-47, 60-77, 91-94; al-Sa'idi, 90-99. See also Muhammad Husayn Haykal,
Mudhakkirat fi al-Siyasa al-Misriyya (Cairo: Maktabat al-Nahada al-Misriyya, 1953 ), Vol. 2, 105117.
(n34.) R.P. Mitchell, The Society of the Muslim Brothers (London: Oxford University Press, 1969),
211-214. Other leaders of the Brothers, such as Muhammad al-Ghazali and Salih Ashmawi,
displayed a more critical and alienated attitude toward al-Azhar, but this attitude remained marginal
due to al-Banna's indisputable leadership.
(n35.) Muhammad 'Abd al-'Aziz Da'ud, al-Jam'iyyat al-Islamiyya fi Misr wa-Dawriha fi Nashr alDa'wa al-Islamiyya (Cairo: al-Zahra' li'l-I'lam al-'Arabi, 1992), 111-112; Brynjar Lia, The Society of
the Muslim Brothers in Egypt (London: Ithaca Press, 1998), 224-227.
(n36.) Donald M. Ried, Cairo University and the Making of Modern Egypt (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1990), 155-156; Majallat al-Azhar 19 (1947/48): 86-91.
(n37.) Khalid Muhammad Khalid, From Here We Start (3ed., Washington, DC: American Council of
Learned Societies, 1953), 3-7; Meir Hatina, "On the Margins of Consensus: The Call to Separate
Religion and the State in Modern Egypt," Middle Eastern Studies 36 (January 2000): 44-46.
(n38.) On al-Azhar and Nasser, see Daniel Crecelius, "Al-Azhar in Revolution," Middle East Journal
20 (Winter 1966): 34-49; P. J. Vatikiotis, "Islam and the Foreign Policy of Egypt," in Islam and
International Relations, ed. J. Harris Proctor (New York: F. A. Praeger, 1965), 121-157; Majda 'Ali
Salih Rabi', al-Dawr al-Siyasi li'l-Azhar 1952-1981 (Cairo: Markaz al-Buhuth wal-Dirasat alSiyasiyya, 1992), 122-158; 'Umar 'Ali Hasan, al-Sufiyya wal-Siyasa fi Misr (Cairo: Markaz alMahrusa, 1997), 100-102.
(n39.) See, e.g., Mahmud Shaltut, al-Fatawa (Cairo: Dar al-Qalam, 1963), 398-399.
(n40.) See, e.g., Majallat al-Azhar 26 (1954/55); 323-325, 442-445, 545-548, 575-581; ibid. 28
(1956/57): 84-90, 272-279, 314-315, 843-864; Rudolph Peters, Jihad in Classical and Modern Islam
-- A Reader (Princeton: M. Wiener Publishers, 1996), 59-100; Hava-Lazarus Yafeh, "Contemporary
Religious Thought Among the 'Ulama of al-Azhar," Asian and African Studies 7 (1971): 211-236.
On the centrality of the injunction "to enjoin good and forbid evil," in classical Islam, see Michael
Cook, Commanding Right and Forbidding Wrong in Islamic Thought (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2000).
(n41.) Rifaat A. Dika [Ph.D. Dissertation], Islamic Traditions in Modern Politics: The Case of alAzhar in Egypt (Detroit, MI: Wayne State University, 1990), 129-132; Donald M. Reid, "al-Azhar," in
The Oxford Encyclopedia of the Modern Islamic World, ed. John L. Esposito (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1995), 170.
(n42.) Figures taking from Crecelius, The Ulama and the State in Modern Egypt, 402. See also
Islamic Heritage in the U.A.R. (n.p., n.d.), 3-16.
(n43.) James jankowski, "Arab Nationalism in Nasserism and Egyptian State Policy 1952-1958," in
Rethinking Nationalism in the Arab Middle East, eds. I. Gershoni and J. Jankowski (New York:
Columbia University Press, 1997), 155-157.
(n44.) Ibid., 155-156.
(n45.) Fauzi M. Najjar, "Egypt's Laws of Personal Status," Arab Studies Quarterly 10 (1989): 320321.
(n46.) Gabriel Baer, "The Sustained Power of Religious and Kinship relations," in The Decline of
Nasserism 1965-1970, ed. Shimon Shamir (Hebrew; Tel Aviv: The Shiloah Center for Middle
Eastern and African Studies, 1978), 109-113.
(n47.) Mahmud Shaltut, al-Islam 'Aqida wa-Shari'ah (Cairo: Dar al-Qalam, 1966), 23, 153.
(n48.) "Al-Azhar Discipline," Middle Eastern Affairs (March 1956): 108-115; Majallat al-Azhar 26
(1954/55): 1002-1005, 1131-1147; Akhbar al-Yawm (11 June 1955); al-Akhbar (27 June 1955).
(n49.) Majallat al-Azhar 35 (1963): 891-892.
(n50.) Akhbar al-Yawm (11 June 1955); al-Akhbar (12 June 1955).
(n51.) See, e.g., Liwa' al-Islam (July-August 1955): 258-270.
(n52.) See, e.g., al-Akhbar (5 June 1955); ibid (8 June 1955); Muhammad Rajab al-Bayumi, Bayna
al-Siyasa wa-Hurriyyat al-Fikr (Cairo: Dar al-Hilal, 1983), 177-181; Taha Husayn, Naqd wa-Islah
(Beirut: Dar al-'Ilm li'l-Malayyin, 1956), 223-234. Taha Husayn, who also served as minister of
education in 1952-53, was engaged in a bitter dispute with al-Azhar (and the Brothers) over his
appeals for the unification of the educational system, which, he claimed, would be the next
appropriate step after the abolition of the religious courts in early 1955. See Anwar al-Jundi,
Muhakamat Fikr Taha Husayn (Cairo: Dar al-I'tisam, 1984), 320-30; Liwa' al-Islam (11 December
1955): 467-468.
(n53.) Al-Akhbar (17 November 1955).
(n54.) Cited in Fouad Ajami, The Dream Palace of the Arabs (New York: Vintage Books, 1999),
230.
(n55.) Shaykh 'Abd al-Hamid Hasan in al-Liwa' al-Islami (7 Febuary 1988).
(n56.) See, e.g., Ra'uf Shalabi, Shaykh al-Islam 'Abd al-Halim Mahmud Siratuh wa-A'maluh (Kuwait:
Dar al-Qalam, 1982), 186-192, 220-234; al-Watan al-'Arabi (5 September 1986); al-Ahram (16
February 1988). See also Steven Barraclough, "Al-Azhar: Between the Government and the
Islamists," Middle East Journal 52 (Spring 1998): 239-240.
(n57.) Najjar, 323-337.
(n58.) Ayalon, 22-26; Barraclough, 241-248. In 1996 Mubarak appointed the former grand mufti of
Egypt Muhammad Sayyid Tantawi, a progressive and pro-government scholar, as shaykh al-Azhar.
However, the appointment created discord within the ulama ranks and did not ensure a more
conformist stance by al-Azhar regarding the national agenda. See Jakob Skovgaard-Petersen,
Defining Islam for the Egyptian State (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1997), 251-290; Tamir Moustafa, "Conflict
and Cooperation between the State and Religious Institutions in Contemporary Egypt," International
Journal of Middle East Studies 32 (2000): 16-17.
(n59.) Hurriyyat al-Ra'y wal-'Aqida (Cairo: al-Munazzama al-Misriyya li-Huquq al-Insan, 1994), Vol.
2, 13-24.
(n60.) See, e.g., Hatina, 54-61; George N. Sfeir, "Basic Freedoms in a Fractured Legal Culture:
Egypt and the Case of Nasr Hamid Abu Zayd," Middle East Journal 52 (Summer 1998): 403-413.
(n61.) H. A. R. Gibb and Harold Bowen, Islamic Society and the West (4ed., London: Oxford
University Press, 1950-1957), Vol. 2, 163-164; Afaf Lutfi al-Sayyid Marsot, "The Role of the 'Ulama
in Egypt during the Early Nineteenth Century," in Political and Social Change in Modern Egypt, ed.
P. M. Holt, 279-280; Ira Lapidus, A History of Islamic Societies (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1988), 626; Baer, "Islamic Political Activity in Modern Egyptian History," 34-51; P. J.
Vatikiotis, The History of Modern Egypt (4ed., London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1991), 63, 90-105,
298-316; Hava Lazarus-Yafeh, "The 'Ulama Vis-a'-Vis the Militants," in Egypt from Monarchy to
Republic, ed. Shamir, 177-179.
(n62.) Gilles Kepel, The Prophet and Pharaoh (London: Al-Saqi Books, 1985); Emmanuel Sivan,
Radical Islam (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990), 50-56; Martin Kramer, "The Religious
Establishment in Crises," in Regime and Opposition in Egypt, ed. Ami Ayalon (Hebrew; Tel Aviv:
Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1984), 95-99, 108-109.
(n63.) See, e.g., Yusuf al-Qaradawi, Risalat al-Azhar (Cairo: Maktabat Wahaba, n.d.), 123-126.
(n64.) Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures (New York: Basic Books, 1973), 89-92, 123125. See also Maurice Halbwachs, On Collective Memory (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1992), 116-117, 177-179.
~~~~~~~~
By Meir Hatina, Tel Aviv University, Tel Aviv, Israel
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