The Princeton Encyclopedia of Islamic Political Thought

Ibn Taymiyya (1263–1328)

The writings of this major independent Sunni mufti, theologian, and activist of the Mamluk period influenced various reformist and puritanical developments in later Muslim societies. Often misinterpreted, they remain central in modern Islamist ideology and Muslim recourse to violence.

Taqi al-Din Ahmad b. ‘Abd al-Halim b. Taymiyya was born in Harran (in present-day southeastern Turkey) on January 22, 1263, to a family of Hanbali scholars and, fleeing the Mongol threat, settled in Damascus in 1269. He spent his life in the Mamluk sultanate—Syria, Egypt, Palestine, and the Hijaz—and died in prison in Damascus on September 26, 1328.

Autobiographical statements and abundant contemporaneous corroboration by witnesses and historians make Ibn Taymiyya one of the most widely documented figures of classical Islam. Many sources nevertheless remain to be systematically examined to further shed light on his ideas and life, keeping in mind that Taymiyyan studies often suffer from uncritical editions, poor translations, and the absence of a precise chronology and proper contextualization.

Ibn Taymiyya’s education and lifelong quest for knowledge made him a formidable champion of Prophetic tradition (hadith) and an expert not only in traditional religious sciences—Qur’anic exegesis, jurisprudence, theology (kalām), and heresiography—but also in Sufism, comparative religion, logic, and philosophy (falsafa). He already was considered qualified to give fatwas at the age of 17 (1279) and actually began to teach hadith in Damascus in 1284 and Qur’anic exegesis one year later at the Umayyad Mosque. He would remain a teacher and a mufti until his death, working sometimes under very difficult circumstances. A prolific writer, Ibn Taymiyya authored, besides innumerable fatwas, various creeds (‘aqīda) and treatises on the most diverse religious questions, long works that have become seminal references in their fields: in theology, Dar’ al-Ta‘arrud (Rejecting contradictions between reason and tradition); in Shi‘itology, Minhaj al-Sunna (The way of the Prophet’s Sunna) refuting Minhaj al-Karama (The way of charisma) by the Imami theologian Mutahhar al-Hilli (d. 1325); in polemics against Christians, al-Jawab al-Sahih (The correct response); in philosophy, al-Radd ‘ala al-Mantiqiyyin (The refutation of the logicians); in economics, al-Hisba fi al-Islam (The Hisba in Islam); and in politics, al-Siyasa al-Shar‘iyya (The book of governance according to the shari‘a).

Ibn Taymiyya was often involved in public affairs. He had his first problems with the authorities in 1294, when he publicly demanded the death penalty for a Christian accused of insulting the Prophet. Actively taking it upon himself to implement the religious duty to command right and forbid wrong, he is said to have, among other things, shaved children’s heads, led an antidebauchery campaign in brothels and taverns, struck an atheist with his hand before his public execution, destroyed a supposedly sacred rock in a mosque, conducted attacks on astrologers, and obliged deviant Sufi shaykhs to make public acts of contrition and to adhere to the sunna. He not only exhorted to jihad on various occasions but also personally took part in some expeditions and battles. During the Mongol invasion of Syria in 1299–1300, he was one of the leaders of the resistance in Damascus and, through direct discussions with the Ilkhan Mahmud Ghazan, his vizier Rashid al-Din Fadl Allah, and Tatar commanders, obtained the release of a number of Syrian prisoners, both Muslim and dhimmī.

Ghazan’s defeat at Shaqhab in 1303, after that of Kitbuga at ‘Ayn Jalut in 1260 and the fall of Acre, the last stronghold of the crusaders in Palestine in 1290, confirmed Ibn Taymiyya in his conviction that the Mamluks were the champions of Islam, although the internal stability of the sultanate was often mired in rivalries between the great amirs, which he sometimes personally experienced. In 1306–7, for example, when a theological controversy led to his trial and imprisonment in Cairo, the amir Baybars al-Jashnikir sided with his opponents and had him detained in a dungeon, whereas the amir Salar strived for his release and eventually obtained it. The young sultan al-Nasir Muhammad b. Qalawun himself was forced to contend with such powerful amirs. He was deposed twice and did not really rule before his third reign started in 1310. Ibn Taymiyya was nevertheless loyal to Nasir Muhammad, to the point of calling him the promised renewer of the religion for his age. In 1310, as a sort of éminence grise, or minister without portfolio, he advised the sultan on various religious affairs and policies and composed his al-Siyasa al-Shar‘iyya with him in mind.

Ibn Taymiyya’s sometimes close relations with the highest powers in the Mamluk sultanate did not protect him from detention on six different occasions, for a total of more than six years, between 1306 and 1328. The pretexts invoked related mainly to his theological views on the divine attributes and the oneness of existence, and later on to his jurisprudential positions on repudiation and on the visitation of graves. The real reasons were more trivial and had to do with his noncompliance with doctrines and practices prevalent among powerful religious and Sufi establishments of his time, an overly outspoken personality, the jealousy of his peers, the risks to public order due to his popular appeal, and political intrigues. He was supported both materially and spiritually until the end by his brothers, a group of companions and disciples like Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya (d. 1350). In fact, he called prison “a divine blessing” and he had “no motive to be afraid of people: no school (madrasa), no land grant (iqṭā‘), no wealth, no leading position (ri’āsa), nothing!” In another, clearly autobiographical text, probably written during his last detention, he explains that “when a scholar forsakes what he knows of the Book of God and of the sunna of His Messenger, and follows the ruling of a ruler which contravenes a ruling of God and His Messenger, he is a renegade, an unbeliever who deserves to be punished in this world and in the hereafter.”

Ibn Taymiyya’s political thought is generally derived from his two books, al-Siyasa al-Shar‘iyya and the Hisba, and even more so from his anti-Mongol fatwas. Many modern scholars and activists alike trace three central Islamist theses back to him: a clear-cut division of the world into the abode of Islam (dār al-islām) and the abode of unbelief (dār al-kufr) or war (dār al-ḥarb); the anathematization (takfīr) of any Muslim who disobeys religion; and the duty to oppose and kill Muslim rulers who do not implement the revealed Law (shari‘a). He has thus become a sort of forefather of al-Qaeda. The Taymiyyan paternity of these three theses, however, can be disputed. Asked, for example, about Mardin—in his time, a little Mongol protectorate with a Muslim ruler and a religiously mixed population—Ibn Taymiyya places it neither in dār al-islām nor dār al-kufr, but rather gives it a third, “composite” (murakkab) status. In a fatwa on the Qalandars, he sees faith as a quality defined by God and the Prophet, which people are not allowed to question according to their whims, and it is not enough to have reasons to anathematize someone: all the objections against doing so must also be refuted. Rather than being condemned, ignorant sinners, such as new converts, should be educated into the religion. Finally, it is in his anti-Mongol fatwas that Ibn Taymiyya used the application of alien laws in lieu of the shari‘a as a stepping stone to declare Muslim rulers to be apostates and thus justify the duty to fight them. It was an argument aiming at mobilizing Syria’s resistance against an invader, especially when the Ilkhan Oljaytu, Ghazan’s successor, threatened once again to invade it, after converting to Shi‘ism in 1313. It was a theology of war against an external enemy, not merely a call to, or the legitimation of, rebellion against the political power in place. Ibn Taymiyya’s relations to his own rulers, the Mamluks, whose digressions from the revealed law must also have been manifest to him, were a via media between passive quietism and insurrection. They were determined by three fundamentals modeled on the commitments undertaken by the Companions when they pledged allegiance to the Prophet: “to obey within obedience to God, even if the one giving the order is unjust; to abstain from disputing the authority of those who exert it; and to speak out the Truth—or take up its cause—without fear, in respect of God, of blame from anyone.”

For Ibn Taymiyya, the type of submission imposed by the Tatars—absolute obedience—is of a pre-Islamic, ignorant (jāhilī) nature. Although there is in the Great Law (Yasa) of Chingiz Khan followed by the Ilkhans a paradigmatic type of “rational” (‘aqlī) “royal regime” (siyāsa malakiyya), neither Pharaoh, nor the Mongol conquerer, nor any other human power deserves unconditional obedience. Rather than being compatible with Islam and providing an acceptable alternative to Mamluk rule as claimed by some of its advocates, Mongol absolutism is an abomination. As for the political ideas of Muslim philosophers, Ibn Taymiyya ridicules the Platonizing utopia of a philosopher-king propounded by Farabi but appreciates the praise that Ibn Sina heaps on the shari‘a as an ideal law (nāmūs).

Both faith and reason, as represented by Ibn Sina and his like, concur in convincing Ibn Taymiyya of the value of Islam as a model for the governance of society. This model was implemented perfectly under Muhammad and the first generations of Muslims, before innovations started creeping in. After the sealing of prophethood, the community (umma) of believers, in its consensus (ijmā‘), became the “guardian of the Law” and is divinely invested with prophetic infallibility (‘iṣma). Indeed, as asserted in the hadiths, “the hand of God is with the communion (jamā‘a) [of the believers]” and “there will be no consensus of the community on something that would lead it astray.” For Ibn Taymiyya, “what the Muslims agree on is [the equivalent of] a truth brought by the Prophet.” This empowerment of the community relieves it from all kinds of central, self-imposing authority, be it a Shi‘i imamate or a Christian church. In this popular theocracy where God’s sovereignty, as known from the Qur’an and the Prophetic tradition, is now exerted through the Muslims themselves, the norms are the equality of all, the respect of diversity in unity, tolerance, moderation, and ponderation. Justice (‘adl) is, of course, also essential: “the Law (shar‘) is justice and justice is the Law.” As explained by Ibn al-Qayyim, this means that societal guidance (siyāsa) should not be based exclusively on scriptural sources; rather, “whatever the ways by which justice and equity (qisṭ) obtain, they are a part of the religion and do not go against it.” As for commanding right and forbidding wrong, it is the responsibility of everyone, each in accordance with his capacity and place in society, and it is achieved through mutual consultation (shūrā), sincere advice (naṣīḥa), and mutual support (ta‘āwun). Rather than delegation, direct involvement is encouraged, as everyone is always, in some way, a shepherd (rā‘in) entrusted with a flock.

Ibn Taymiyya, thus, feels no nostalgia for the caliphate suppressed by the Mongols in 1258, especially for its autocratic type exemplified by Ma’mun’s reign with its inquisition (miḥna), and can easily accommodate the political reality of his age in his vision of the Muslim commonwealth. A religion without the power (sulṭān) to assert itself, unable or unwilling to wage jihad, and devoid of resources (māl) would be threatened in its existence and remains imperfect, hence the usefulness of the Mamluks. On the other hand, the pursuit of power, wealth, and war for any purpose other than establishing the religion (iqāmat al-dīn) is obviously to be condemned—hence the necessity for ‘ulama’ to educate not only the people but also their rulers. Amirs and other authorities should notably learn to “render the trusts to those to whom they are due,” as commanded in Qur’an 4:58. This means that they must share power and appoint the most qualified in the appropriate offices (wilāya) at all administrative levels, be they military or civil, religious or judicial. Those in command (ulū al-amr) have the right to be obeyed but must consult advisers and have no authority over people’s consciences. Just as they are obliged to protect dhimmīs from injustice and forced conversion, they have the duty to preserve doctrinal diversity within the Muslim community. All the more certainly, in debated matters, they are prohibited from abusing their power to compel anyone to follow specific opinions. It is indeed not up to them nor to ‘ulama’ or other scholars, dead or alive, but up to “the entire community of Muhammad . . . to speak out about this.” An empowerment of individual consciences with pure intentions goes hand in hand with Ibn Taymiyya’s magisterial empowerment of the community and doctrinal disempowerment of its rulers. When no decision can be derived from the Qur’an and the sunna, “Muslims must be allowed to hold to their opinions, each of them worshipping God according to his ijtihād, and no judge can force anyone to accept the sayings of another.” “When a mufti, a soldier (jundī), or a commoner (‘āmmī), speaks of something, by ijtihād or taqlīd, with the aim of following the Messenger, each in accordance with his level of knowledge, they do not deserve chastisement . . . even if they make mistakes.”

Ibn Taymiyya is as much a Sunni radical liberal as he is a populist puritan. Influenced by circumstances, the opinions of a mufti are not to be expected to constitute a comprehensive, integrated system of thought—all the more certainly a political philosophy—and many more elements will surely have to be added to the picture drawn here. Much work also remains to be done to understand the rationale behind some of Ibn Taymiyya’s toughest actions in relation to his commitment to a religion of the middle way. What is certain at this stage, however, is that the Taymiyyan siyāsa shar‘iyya has little in common with modern political Islam, with its Westernized insistence on the necessity of a strong state, indiscriminate use of violence, or recourse to terror. It can, in fact, be seen as an antiextremist approach to societal self-governance with a strong emphasis on ethics, both communitarian and individual, rather than on politics.

Ibn Taymiyya’s influence has not yet been systematically explored. That his views were often caricatured or misused during the 20th century is obvious. To quote his anti-Mongol fatwas in order to anathematize, fight, or kill Anwar Sadat, the Algerian junta, or other Muslims leaders, for example, is to forget that Ibn Taymiyya wrote these fatwas against an invader and that he always remained loyal to the Mamluk sultan Nasir. Moreover, to use these same fatwas to question the Islamic status of a country following laws other than the shari‘a is to ignore that, for Ibn Taymiyya, the status of a country varies according to “the states of the hearts of its inhabitants,” not according to the nature of its regime, and that every law contributing to more justice, whatever its origin, scriptural or not, is per se a part of the shari‘a. Before the 20th century, Muhammad b. ‘Abd al-Wahhab (d. 1792) is generally considered as the greatest and most faithful disciple of Ibn Taymiyya since Ibn al-Qayyim. Such a view shall almost certainly have to be revised, once the confirmed influence of the Mamluk theologian on Ottoman puritanical reformists like Birgivi Mehmed Efendi (d. 1573), Ahmad al-Rumi al-Aqhisari (d. ca. 1631), and Kadızade Mehmed (d. 1635) has been properly investigated.