Navigating the divide
TARIQ MIR is impressed by a detailed examination of the schism between the two major branches of Islam and its impacts on the political landscape of the Middle East
News media, political pundits and even presidents have often explained away the contemporary political climate in the Middle East as the natural consequence of centuries of deeply rooted sectarian conflicts. The truth is, of course, far more complicated. In his new study, Toby Matthiesen embraces this complex history and argues that the prevailing narratives about the relationship between Sunni and Shia Islam – a sectarian division frequently cited as a major contributor to political instability in the region – has hindered our comprehension of the real issues at play. Only by delving deeply into the history of the schism, Matthiesen argues, can we gain a more nuanced picture of the Middle East’s complex political, cultural and religious history.
To this end, the book begins with an ambitious 400-page history of the split between Sunni and Shia Islam from its beginnings – the disagreement about who should succeed the Prophet Muhammad as the political leader of the nascent Muslim community – to the first Covid-19 quarantines in 2020. A journey through this history paints a very different picture from the usual commentaries. The story involves centuries of confessional ambiguity, identity formation and ambivalent relations as Sunnis and Shias worked together to contribute to the intellectual, cultural and political ascendancy of the societies in which they lived.
Though a historian of the pre-modern Islamic world may find fault in Matthiesen’s rushed 100-page precis of the formative era (AD 650–1500), it neatly establishes the context for the remainder of the study, which focuses on the periods when these sectarian trajectories finally formalised.
Two notable moments emerge. The first is the institutionalisation of Sunni and Shia identities for advancing the state-making and cultural projects of the so-called Gunpowder
Empires: the Ottomans, Safavids and Mughals. The second, Matthiesen does not shy away from stressing, is the deepening of these sectarian divisions as European colonial powers endeavoured to categorise and control their newly acquired populations for their own economic and political aims.
This historical narrative is invaluable. The reader may become lost in the sea of names, historical regions and intellectual movements. However, we quickly understand how these key moments in the relationship between Sunni and Shia Islam eventually led to the new geopolitical order that followed the 1979 Iranian Revolution, and with which the world continues to grapple.
The historical narrative also highlights how foundational stories – the succession debate and the civil wars that unfolded following the death of the Prophet – continue to be invoked in the collective memory and identity formation of contemporary sectarian players in the region.
The Caliph and the Imam is undoubtedly an admirable study. Given its commitment to explaining the Sunni–Shia split through a global outlook, nuanced historical analysis and prodigious (some might say excessive) footnoting, it is most certainly a scholarly work. However, it remains an accessible introduction to the historical context that underpins the modern Middle East, and certainly achieves its key aim. Only by turning the pages of the history of Sunni and Shia Muslims, by recalling the early history of the schism, and by recognising the long-lasting effects of colonial intervention in the region can we begin to appreciate that politics continues to have a major hand in complicating religious identities.
The story involves centuries of confessional ambiguity and ambivalent relations between Sunni and Shia Muslims