The Husayn Difference
Excerpt from Virtual Office Hours ––HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT
The concept of honor, and the closely related ideas of dignity, shame and disgrace, are so widely recognized across human societies that it would be quite difficult to pretend they require much explanation. Clarifying what is already crystal clear would seem redundant. For millions on the path between Najaf and Karbala today, honor is about serving the visitors of Imam Husayn. For learning communities and the marketplace alike, honor is about an honest effort ––no cheating… However, while the basic idea has often been clear, history tells us that the nuances and examples have collided in practice. Certain individuals in intellectual history offer an ethical vocabulary and compelling moral compass to grapple with such dilemmas. Regardless whether one approaches him as an exceptional historical personality, a lasting moral symbol, or a sacred figure, Imam Husayn is one such individual.
In a previous post, I touched on three broad contours for reading the legacy of Imam Husayn and its continued relevance, particularly within Islamic, and especially within Shia Muslim, thought. Without conflating the nuances that can be appreciated depending on the interpretive lens one adopts along those contours, there is a dimension that is arguably less controversial to focus on in public discourse. It is something closer to the literal and concisely holistic than the figurative and incomplete, so it has advantages that most snapshots arguably do not. I am referring to one of the famous quotations attributed to Imam Husayn, his brother Imam Hasan, and/or their father Imam Ali (with a slight variation), some historical sources even remembering these poetic lines to have been on the lips of Husayn during his last stand on the day of Ashura (e.g. al-Jāḥiẓ’s al-Bayān wa al-Tabyīn, v. 3, p. 278; Ibn Shahrāshūb’s al-Manāqib, v. 4, p. 68, 110). An understanding of the verses can be rendered:
“To die is better than to ride disgrace; and disgrace [i.e. being shamed by people] is better than going to hell [i.e. being shamed by God’s punishment]; and God is my protector from both.”
Rather than merely reconstructing the precise wording, the following discussion examines the conceptual work these lines of poetry perform within Islamic Intellectual History. The first part, “To die is better than to ride disgrace,” would have fit well with the cultural narratives of safeguarding one’s honor, encouraging the willingness to give up one’s life for noble values (whether real or imagined). There is evidence from literature and communal memory to support that Arabic-speaking tribes, like others in various parts of the world, deeply valued (and continue to value) such sentiments. Exposing oneself to worldly “fire” was a potentially heavy but bearable price to pay if a reputation would be protected and a legacy of honor would be safeguarded. The Islamic tradition (beyond the history of Arabic speakers) also commemorated the sacrifices of Prophets and faithful individuals who were willing to die for their faith (e.g. Quran 85:5), and held on to the legacy of Prophets like Abraham who was saved by God when his people wanted to burn him for challenging the status quo (e.g. Quran 21:69). Thus, at least in exceptional scenarios, the idea of “being burnt to death with honor instead of living in dishonor” was not only in line with but was further heroized by Islamic teachings.
Recalibrating Shame
However, there was a nurturing redirection away from particularly problematic examples of upholding what some (then and now) may refer to as “honor” (e.g. so-called “honor” killings). This is referring to crimes against human dignity as well as Islamic law (e.g. Quran 81:8). In that vein, the second line would have been taken as a tempering corrective to an initial impression of the first ––“disgrace is better than going to hell.” The focus was, thus, shifted away from stereotypical or preconceived notions of disgrace/shame/honor/dignity and was, instead, made to revolve around a firmly God-centric understanding of shame. This was not regarded as abstractly dependent on a revelation from beyond in all its manifestations, but was “translating” an unadulterated, innate sense of human dignity, further guided by Divine revelation (e.g. Quran 30:30).
Taken together, the two lines suggest a broader moral framework. With this in mind, it would have become clear that the ultimate moral compass when it came to dignity/honor/disgrace required an evaluation of one’s responsibility to God in any given scenario. Sometimes it may have been obvious, not requiring much calculation (e.g. self-evident truths). At others, it may have been more complicated, involving competing considerations and overriding priorities. Determining and upholding one’s duty to God in a dynamic situation would have been the way to avoid a more severe, consequential, and enduring shame. Hence, the sense of shame remained central but the locus of its clarification and manifestation was rooted in understanding one’s responsibility before God.
Entertaining an alternative reading, short of that, the shift of emphasis would have been to weigh examples of shame in light of their severity (to encourage erring on the side of the less weighty shame). The latter would fit well with references to the possibility that many on the side of Yazid’s forces did not genuinely believe in God or a Day of Judgement as understood in Islamic teachings. Still, by referring to “disgrace being better than going to hell,” Imam Husayn would also have been warning those of them who may have feared such a consequence, at least as a possibility, regardless whether or not they genuinely believed in God or a Day of Judgement.
It is not that these verses were communicating an inherent inevitability of “choosing one of the two ‘fires’” ––disgrace in life or disgrace after death. Rather, Imam Husayn is reported to have continued, “God is my protector from both.” In this rendering, he would be implying that his stand was in line with a widely recognized understanding and application of honor in his day, as well as his responsibility to God’s law. A slightly different reading would argue that he is merely referring to God Almighty as his protector from the fire of hell as well as from those who may wish to shame him in this world (e.g. those who reportedly tried to shame him and his followers for their dissent and disobedience to the so-called “caliph/imam” Yazid or his locally appointed “amir/governor” Ibn Ziyad).
These short lines condense otherwise lengthy discussions regarding the underlying logic behind decisions by Imam Husayn, his older brother Imam Hasan, others, and all of the above at different points during their tenures. That is, they offer a lens from within Islamic Intellectual History through which one can entertain an often asserted coherence of seemingly varied approaches to decision-making: Imam Hasan’s ceasefire may have exposed him to accusations of disgrace but he was prioritizing his duty to God in raising awareness and protecting the precious few who remained loyal to his vision for the faith; Imam Husayn continued in the same direction until developments shifted his responsibility to God, seemingly avoiding military confrontation until it was forced upon him.
Popularly-held perceptions of what it means to reject disgrace (then and now) would remember Husayn’s last stand as an honorable death, martyrdom par excellence ––he is remembered as the Master of Martyrs, in fact. But the pain associated with exposing his women and children to captivity upon his demise is processed as part of upholding their collective duty to God. As the tradition would portray it, in the spirit of the aforementioned poetic lines, failing to uphold their duty to God would have been the true disgrace (the only disgrace that counts when there is ever a conflict between being shamed by people and being shamed by God). Through these lines of poetry, the conceptual vocabulary of shame/disgrace/honor/dignity is repurposed and ordered in terms of priority applications, particularly for those who adopt a God-centric worldview.
Implications for Contemporary Ethical Dilemmas
What does this mean for the modern-day devotees of Husayn? Those flocking in the millions to his shrine in Karbala for the “Arbaʿeen” (40th day visit after his martyrdom)? The multitudes worldwide who wish they were there too? Besides the clarity enabled by such a succinct line of poetic verse, the practical implications in the face of ethical dilemmas should not be understated. For instance, the discussion above would imply that a sense of shame is better to be honored even when no specific religious ruling requires it. Hence, peer pressure, family values, tribal ties, collective sensibilities, even when no specific religious prescription mandates their value in particular, retain a general regard (assuming they do not conflict with other established religious values). One’s reputation, in this sense, is important even if one is not blatantly violating religious laws. Thus, guarding one’s reputation for the purpose of upholding and sharing one’s religious values would be an additional layer of motivation, not the only one.
Another example applies to cases in which there is a conflict between shaming by people (regardless whether they are a minority or a majority) and shaming by God: If one’s duty to God warrants one to expose him/herself to public shaming in order to address a systemic injustice or corrupt tyrant or the like, then the discussion above implies that there is no moral dilemma in the final analysis ––honoring God takes the priority. If upholding one’s strengths in the face of asymmetric force brings one negative publicity, then –– after making the prudent “pick your battles” calculation –– some (and sometimes most, or all, each in their own way) may have to swallow that shaming as an honorable sacrifice on the path of Imam Husayn.
Perhaps this calculus is what makes devotion on the path of Husayn so consequential. Afterall, this is not merely an object of fascination for academic research but also a locus of ongoing reflection within Islamic Intellectual History. It is not surprisingly so, because the Husayn difference has been palpable over the long haul. It does not fail due to individual losses ––the torch is simply passed on. Simultaneously, the means of struggle are, for the most part, not simple-mindedly justified by supposedly noble ends (e.g. no genocides in the name of Imam Husayn). But, rather, for the devotee of Imam Husayn, there is a principled synthesis in between. One that continues to attract countless recruits, many of whom are evidently in tune with a compassionate sense of humanity (e.g. consider the Arbaeen walk hospitality between Najaf and Karbala). That is despite the fact that the icon of their movement was a man who promised his followers not a worldly victory, but a decisively honorable death ––a legacy of martyrdom. There is much to analyze about what made this specific promise of martyrdom so distinct, but the moving clarity seen through the poetic lens discussed here compellingly tops the list. He provides them with a fulfilling answer to the ethical dilemma we are all confronted with: In a messy world, whose sense of shame ultimately matters to you? And, most formatively, why?
Intro to this Blog
I have been considering the pros and cons of focusing this blog on a particular theme or intended readership. With all the merits of specialization, I submit that my academic specialization has me niched enough for the rest of my time on Earth, and that I will be looking forward to this blog as a more diversified avenue of expression. It will still be me, just not always the PhD dissertation mode of me. For that, I beg your pardon, you will have to wait for the occasional academic study I announce here, or read parts of my dissertation (hint to fellow academics, in particular). So you can expect this blog to shed light on the more far-reaching implications of my work as an academic, tailored to a diverse and broad readership, weighing in on current events while also contextualizing and drawing lessons from history. Without further ado, welcome to Ali Moughania’s blog!
