MICHAEL WOOD’S VIEW

I’m often asked: if you could travel in time, to what period in history would you go? My answer is always: the late 16th century. It was an incredibly dynamic time in world history: the new world just discovered, the European conquests in the Americas had begun. In Europe, it was the time of the Renaissance. In the heartland of civilisation, Eurasia, several great multiracial, multicultural empires coexisted: the Ottomans, the Savafids in Persia, and Mughal India. Farther east, Ming China was enjoying a fabulous flowering. What a time to set out – as the eccentric traveller Thomas Coryate did, in 1614 walking from Jerusalem to India. Take me with you, Tom!

In India, the emperor Akbar (r1556–1605) was one of the greatest figures in world history. Ruler, administrator, war leader, patron of culture, he was a close contemporary of Elizabeth I, and he initiated one of most fascinating experiments in the history of civilisation.

Confronted by India’s many religions, with their claims to absolute truth, Akbar came to see that no religion can have pre-eminence. Indeed, no religion can be ‘the truth’, in that all faiths are interpretations by men and are either equally true or equally illusory. Hence, all should be free to practise whatever faith they choose.

Akbar began to hold weekly conferences with wise men (not women, so far as we know) from all faiths to talk through these questions, and to apply that knowledge to ruling the state. Eventually, he took over spiritual leadership. He even got the Muslim clergy to pronounce a fatwa (judgment) that he could adjudicate in any dispute between religious authorities – so he could even overrule the Qur’an, if necessary in the public interest.

This led to claims among his opponents that he had actually rejected Islam and “become a kaffir”. But maybe we should say he tried to develop a new concept of faith – one that transcended the limits of the teachings of the different individual religions. As a great ruler, he wanted to establish a universal principle of tolerance, which he called sulh-I kul: ‘Absolute Peace’ or ‘Peace for All’.

There were two practical sides to this. One was to establish freedom of worship in the public sphere, abolishing the hated tax levied on the Hindu majority – the jizya, “the contribution for not being put to death”. So Mughal India was to be a unified state in which non-Muslims could claim the same rights as Muslims.

The second concerned the private faith of the elite. He called this the Din i-Ilahi or ‘Worship of God’. One of his most extraordinary ideas, it wasn’t really a new religion, as has been claimed, but a kind of Sufi system for the rulers. At its core were 10 cardinal virtues or rules of conduct, the essence of which was to promote mutual tolerance. What he was trying to do was to combine aspects of different faiths – conduct, ethics and rituals – borrowing bits from all religions to make an ethical code for his inner circle.

Some have thought him far head of its time, but he has also been accused of devising a pick-and mix-religion. At the time, a Jesuit critic said: “It ended up being nothing.” Later historians in the British Raj, who of course emphasised differences between Hindu and Muslim as part of their divide-and-rule policy, dubbed it “ridiculous”. But then they would, wouldn’t they? Looking at it now, in the 21st century, maybe you could say that Akbar’s intuitive intelligence was smarter than their perspectives – that is, if you see all religions as human-created attempts to express a reality that lies beyond human comprehension.

His legacy was rolled back by less-enlightened successors, but it left its mark on Nehru and Gandhi and the independence struggle that, in 1947, gave birth to a secular India. Today, in an India ruled by Hindu nationalists, these are still massive issues – ones that also, I dare say, affect all of us in the wider world, too.

Watching the news this summer, with more horrors committed in the name of religion, Akbar’s words came to mind: “Now it has become clear to me that in this world of so many contradictions, it cannot be wisdom to assert the truth of one faith over another. Rather we should let wisdom be our guide. In that way perhaps we may be able to open again the door whose key has been lost.”

Michael Wood is professor of public history at the University of Manchester. He has presented numerous BBC series and his books include The Story of India (BBC, 2010)