No God But God

by Reza Aslan

  Aisha, who, as all the traditions attest, was the only person who could get away with talking back to Muhammad, replied, “To God’s praise and your blame!” Still, she was redeemed and the matter forgotten. But neither Aisha nor Abu Bakr ever forgave Ali.

  The schism between the two men widened further when, without any consultation whatsoever, Abu Bakr decided to appoint Umar as his successor rather than call for another shura. There is only one plausible explanation for Abu Bakr’s decision: a shura would have undoubtedly revived the debate over the rights of the family of the Prophet. Indeed, a shura might have led to the succession of Ali, who had, over the past two years, become increasingly popular. The support he already enjoyed from a number of influential clans and Companions could very well have led uncommitted clans to back his candidacy. Granted, the vested interests of the Quraysh aristocracy in maintaining the status quo would not have made Ali’s selection certain. But had it come to a contest between the enormously popular Ali and the fiery, rigid, misogynistic Umar, the latter would not have been assured of victory. To avoid that outcome, Abu Bakr ignored both tribal tradition and Muslim precedent, and simply handpicked Umar, though, again, the new Caliph had to be approved by the consensus of the community.

  As Caliph, Umar was exactly what Muhammad had always considered him to be: a brilliant and energetic leader. Tall, brawny, and completely bald, Umar was an intimidating presence who, when he walked, “towered above the people as though he were on horseback.” A warrior at heart, he maintained the Caliphate as a secular position but emphasized his role as war leader by adopting the additional title Amir al-Mu’manin, “the Commander of the Faithful.” His superior skills in battle led to the defeat of the Byzantine army in southern Syria in 634 and the capture of Damascus a year later. With the help of the oppressed Syrian Jewish community, whom he had freed from Byzantine control, Umar then devastated the Iranian forces at Qadisiyyah on his way to subduing the great Sasanian Empire. Egypt and Libya fell easily to Umar’s army, as did Jerusalem: the crowning achievement of his military campaigns.

  Surprisingly, however, Umar proved to be a far better diplomat than anyone could have imagined. Recognizing the importance of appeasing the non-Arab converts to Islam, who even in his time were beginning to outnumber the Arabs, the Caliph treated his vanquished enemies as equal members of the Ummah and strove to eliminate all ethnic differences between Arab and non-Arab (at this point, however, the latter still had to become a client of the former to convert to Islam). The wealth that poured into Medina as a result of his military victories was distributed proportionately to everyone in the community, including the children. Umar went out of his way to curb the power of the former Quraysh aristocracy and strengthened his central authority by appointing governors, or amirs, to administer the Muslim provinces both near and far. At the same time, he gave his amirs strict instructions to respect the existing traditions and mores of the provinces, and not to attempt any radical changes in the way the local peoples had been previously governed. He reorganized the taxation system, bringing immense prosperity to the Ummah, and created a standing army of trained soldiers who were garrisoned away from the provinces so as to not disturb the local communities.

  Umar even tried to heal the rift with Ali by reaching out to the Banu Hashim. Though he refused to return Ali’s inheritance, he did hand over Muhammad’s estates in Medina as an endowment to be administered by Muhammad’s kin. He connected himself to the Banu Hashim by marrying Ali’s daughter, and encouraged Ali’s participation in his government by regularly consulting him on important matters. In fact, Umar rarely did anything without consulting a cadre of influential Companions that he kept around him at all times. This may have been because he recognized that his position as Caliph, though sanctioned by the Ummah, had not been achieved through traditional means. He was therefore keen to avoid seeming despotic in his judgments, and was once quoted as saying, “If I am [a] king, it is a fearful thing.”

  Despite his attempts to reach out to the Banu Hashim, however, Umar continued to uphold, as a matter of religious dogma, the contention that prophethood and the Caliphate should not reside in the same clan. Indeed, acknowledging that contention and accepting Muhammad’s statement about having no heirs became for Umar part of the oath of allegiance. Like Abu Bakr, Umar was convinced that such power in the Banu Hashim would be detrimental to the Muslim community. Nevertheless, he could not ignore Ali’s rising popularity. Not wishing to make the same mistake as Abu Bakr and so further alienate the Banu Hashim, Umar refused to handpick a successor, choosing instead to gather a traditional shura.

  On his deathbed (he had been stabbed by a mad Persian slave named Firooz), Umar brought together the six leading candidates for the Caliphate, including, at last, Ali, and gave them three days to decide among themselves who would lead the community after his death. It was not long before only two men remained: Ali, the scion of the Banu Hashim, and a somewhat unremarkable septuagenarian named Uthman ibn Affan.

  A wealthy member of the Umayyad clan—the clan of Muhammad’s fiercest enemies, Abu Sufyan and Hind—Uthman was a Quraysh through and through. Although an early convert to Islam, he had never exhibited any leadership qualities; he was a merchant, not a warrior. Muhammad deeply loved Uthman, but never once entrusted him with leading a raid or an army on his behalf, something nearly every other man standing at the shura had done on more than one occasion. But it was precisely his inexperience and lack of political ambition that made Uthman such an attractive choice. He was, more than anything else, the perfect alternative to Ali: a prudent, reliable old man who would not rock the boat.

  In the end, Ali and Uthman were each asked two questions by Abd al-Rahman, who, despite being Uthman’s brother-in-law, had been selected as Hakam between the two men. First, would each man rule according to the principles of the Quran and the example of Muhammad? Both replied that they would. The second question was unexpected. Would each man, if selected Caliph, strictly follow the precedents set by the two previous Caliphs, Abu Bakr and Umar?

  Not only was this a totally unprecedented requirement for leading the community, it was obviously meant to weed out one candidate in particular. For while Uthman remarked that he would follow the example of his predecessors in all his decisions as Caliph, Ali gave the men in the room a hard stare and answered flatly, “No.” He would follow only God and his own judgment.

  Ali’s answer sealed the verdict. Uthman became the third Caliph, and in 644 C.E. was promptly endorsed by the Ummah.

  THE BANU HASHIM had fumed when Ali was skipped over in favor of Abu Bakr. But Abu Bakr was a highly respected Muslim with impeccable credentials. The Hashim had been furious with Abu Bakr for ignoring Ali and simply choosing Umar as his successor. But, again, Umar was a strong leader and, without the proper channels, there was little they could do but voice their opposition. However, when Uthman was chosen as Caliph over Ali, the Banu Hashim had simply had enough.

  It was perfectly clear to many in the community that Uthman’s Caliphate was a deliberate attempt to accommodate the old Quraysh aristocracy, who were eager to regain their previous status as the élites of Arab society. With Uthman’s selection, the House of Umayya was once again in charge of Arabia, just as it had been before Muhammad conquered it in the name of Islam. The irony of pledging allegiance to the clan of their former enemies was not lost on the members of Muhammad’s clan. To make matters worse, rather than trying to heal the ever-widening rift in the community, Uthman only exacerbated the situation through his unabashed nepotism and inept leadership.

  First, Uthman replaced nearly all of the existing amirs throughout the Muslim lands with members of his immediate family, as though signaling to everyone the preeminence of his clan. Then, he began dipping into the public treasury to dole out huge sums of money to his relatives. Finally, and most dramatically, he broke with tradition by giving himself the hitherto unthinkable title Khalifat Allah: “Successor to God,” a title that Abu Bakr had explicitly rej
ected. To his many enemies, this decision was a sign of Uthman’s self-aggrandizement. The Caliph, it seemed, was regarding himself not as the deputy of the Messenger, but as the representative of God on earth.

  Uthman’s actions made him a fiercely hated figure. Not only did the Banu Hashim and the Ansar in Medina turn against the Caliph, so did some of the Umayya’s rival clans—the Banu Zuhra, the Banu Makhzum, and the Abd Shams—together with some of the most influential Companions, including Aisha and even Abd al-Rahman, Uthman’s brother-in-law and the man who, as arbiter in the shura, had been instrumental in giving him the Caliphate in the first place. By the end of his rule, Uthman had made so many reckless decisions that not even his most significant accomplishment—the collection and canonization of the Quran—could enable him to escape the ire of the Muslim community.

  In Muhammad’s lifetime, the Quran was never collected in a single volume; in fact, it was never collected at all. As each individual recitation poured out of the Prophet’s mouth, it was diligently memorized by a new class of scholars, personally instructed by Muhammad, called the Qurra, or Quran readers. Only the most important recitations—those dealing with legal issues—were ever written down, primarily on bits of bone, scraps of leather, and the ribs of palm leaves.

  After the Prophet’s death, the Qurra dispersed throughout the community as the authorized teachers of the Quran. But with the rapid growth of the Ummah and the passing of the first generation of Quran readers, certain deviations began to appear in the various recitations. These were mostly insignificant differences reflecting the local and cultural affinities of Muslim communities in Iraq, or Syria, or Egypt; they were immaterial to the meaning and message of the Quran. Nevertheless, the Medinan establishment became increasingly alarmed by these discrepancies, and so began plans to do what Muhammad had never bothered doing: to create a single, codified, uniform text of the Quran.

  Some traditions claim that the Quran, in its present form, was collected by Abu Bakr during his Caliphate. This is Theodor Noeldeke’s position, though even he admits that Abu Bakr’s redaction had no real canonical authority. Most scholars, however, agree that it was Uthman who, in his capacity as the Successor to God, authorized a single universally binding text of the Quran in about 650 C.E. But in doing so, Uthman once again managed to alienate important members of the community when he decided to round up the variant collections of the Quran, bring them to Medina, and set fire to them.

  This decision infuriated the leading Muslims of Iraq, Syria, and Egypt, not because they felt their Qurans were somehow better or more complete than Uthman’s—as mentioned, the variations were quite inconsequential—but because they felt that Uthman was overstepping the bounds of his secular authority as Caliph. Uthman’s response to their grievances was to brand as an unbeliever anyone who questioned the authority of the official collection.

  Agitation against Uthman reached its peak in 655, with revolts breaking out throughout the Muslim lands against the Caliph’s incompetent and often corrupt amirs. In Medina, Uthman was openly despised. Once, while leading the Friday prayers at the mosque, he was showered with stones hurled from the back of the congregation. A stone hit him in the forehead and he tumbled off the minbar, falling unconscious to the floor. Eventually the situation became so dire that a number of prominent Companions from Mecca banded together to beg the Caliph to recall his corrupt governors, cease his nepotism, and repent before the entire community. However, members of his own clan, and especially his influential and power-hungry cousin, Marwan, pressured Uthman not to look weak by humbling himself.

  Things came to a violent end for Uthman a year later, when a massive delegation from Egypt, Basra, and Kufa marched to Medina to present their grievances directly to the Caliph. While refusing to receive the delegation personally, Uthman sent Ali to ask them to return to their homes with the promise that their grievances would be addressed.

  What happened next is unclear; the sources are muddled and contradictory. Somehow, on their way back home, the Egyptian delegation intercepted a messenger en route to Uthman’s representative in Egypt who carried with him an official letter demanding the immediate punishment of the rebel leaders for their insubordination. The letter was signed with the seal of the Caliph. Enraged, the delegation reversed course and returned to Medina, where, with the aid of the Basran and Kufan rebels, they laid siege to Uthman’s home, trapping the Caliph inside.

  Most historians are convinced that Uthman did not write that letter: he may have been a poor political leader, but he was not suicidal. He must have known the rebel leaders would not have accepted their punishment without a fight. Some scholars, like Leone Caetani, have blamed Ali for the letter, arguing that he wanted to depose Uthman and claim the Caliphate for himself; but this charge is totally unfounded. There may have been some hostility between the two men, and Ali may not have surrendered his aspirations for the Caliphate. But the fact is that Ali faithfully served as one of Uthman’s most trusted advisers throughout his Caliphate and did everything in his power to appease the rebels. It was Ali, after all, who had persuaded them to go home in the first place. Even as the rebels were encircling Uthman’s home, swords drawn, Ali maintained his support for the Caliph. Indeed, Ali’s eldest son, Hasan, was among the handful of guards who continued to defend Uthman as the rebels charged into his home, while his second son, Husayn, transported water and food to the Caliph throughout the siege at great risk to his own life.

  Most scholars agree that the true culprit was likely Marwan, who many in Uthman’s own circle believed had written the letter. It was Marwan who had advised Uthman to deal harshly with the rebels when they first arrived with their grievances. It was Marwan’s influence that kept Uthman from repenting of his more detrimental actions, like heaping riches upon his family from the public treasury. In fact, when the Companions criticized Uthman for precisely this kind of behavior, Marwan, who benefited most richly from Uthman’s nepotism, drew his sword and threatened to kill the most respected members of the Ummah in the presence of the Prophet’s successor.

  Regardless of who wrote the letter, the Egyptian, Basran, and Kufan rebels—and nearly everyone else in Medina—believed that Uthman had, according to all customs, failed in his leadership and must, as a result, voluntarily step down as Caliph. He had, in one sense, forfeited his oath of allegiance as Shaykh of the Ummah, and violated Abu Bakr’s declaration that if the Caliph neglects the laws of God and the Prophet, he has no right to obedience.

  But there was also a small faction of Muslims who called for Uthman’s abdication not on the grounds that he had forfeited his oath of allegiance, but because they believed that only a Caliph who was free from sin could be worthy to lead the holy community of God. This faction would come to be known as the Kharijites, and despite their small numbers, they and their uncompromising beliefs would soon play an important role in determining the fate of the Muslim community.

  Even as nearly everyone had turned against him, Uthman still refused to give up power. As far as he understood, his position as Khalifat Allah had been bestowed upon him by God, not by man; only God could remove the mantle of leadership from him. However, as a pious Muslim, Uthman refused to attack the rebels who besieged him, hoping he could maintain control of the Caliphate without shedding Muslim blood. He therefore commanded his supporters not to fight, but to go home and wait for order to be restored naturally. But it was far too late for that.

  The rebels, provoked by a scuffle outside Uthman’s home, stormed into the Caliph’s inner chamber, where they found him sitting on a cushion reading from the Quran that he himself had collected and codified. Ignored by the Companions and virtually unchallenged by the guards, the rebels asked him one final time to abdicate. When Uthman refused, the rebels drew their swords and plunged them into Uthman’s chest. The Caliph fell forward upon the open Quran, his blood soaking into its gold-leafed pages.

  THE CALIPH’S MURDER at the hands of fellow Muslims threw the Ummah into a state of pande
monium. With the rebels still in control of Medina, it was unclear what would happen next. There were more than a few Muslims in Mecca and Medina who would have leaped at the opportunity to succeed Uthman, including two of the most prominent Meccan Companions, Talha ibn Ubayd Allah and Zubayr ibn al-Awwam, both of whom had been singled out for their piety by Muhammad.

  And, of course, there was Ali.

  When he heard of Uthman’s assassination, Ali was in the mosque praying. Sensing the chaos that would result, he quickly returned home to look after his family, and especially to find his son Hasan, who had stayed behind to try to protect Uthman. The following day, when a fragile peace had settled over the city, Ali returned to the mosque to find a substantial delegation of Muslims beseeching him to accept the oath of allegiance and become the next Caliph. For nearly a quarter of a century, Ali had been pursuing the Caliphate. But now that it was being handed to him, he refused to accept it.

  Given the circumstances, Ali’s reluctance was not surprising. If the demise of Uthman had proved anything, it was that some form of popular consent was still vital to maintaining the authority of the Caliphate. But with the rebels in control of Medina, Egypt and Iraq in revolt, Mecca calling for the Caliphate to be restored to the original vision of Abu Bakr and Umar, and Uthman’s clan, the Banu Umayya, demanding immediate retribution for the Caliph’s death, popular sanction would have been impossible to achieve. And yet there was still a very large and formidable contingent of Muslims whose unconditional support for Ali had not waned over the years. This faction consisted of members of the Ansar in Medina, Muhammad’s clan, the Banu Hashim, some prominent clans of the Quraysh, a few leading Companions, and several large bodies of non-Arab Muslims (especially in Basra and Kufa) who together were loosely labeled Shi‘atu Ali, the “Party of Ali”: the Shi‘ah.