Ijtihad in the RE classroom

ABSTRACT

This article examines the place of ijtihad in the British Religious Education curriculum. It argues that the concept should be taught to high school students earlier than A-Level. Knowledge of ijtihad enables students to understand diversity of thought and legal interpretation in Islam, and why different conclusions can be reached from the same or similar corpus of Islamic sources. Ijtihad has always played an important role in the consolidation and evolution of Islamic legal thinking. Yet despite increased research about the value of a hermeneutical approach in the RE classroom in recent years, ijtihad is rarely taught in UK schools. The article presents real life classroom experience and tweaks to the established RE syllabi which have been implemented in schools where the majority of students identify as Muslims. Its principal author (Zameer Hussain) is a religious studies teacher who brings his own expertise in teaching to this debate in order to evidence how a hermeneutical approach to the study of Islam at all levels will benefit students’ understanding of Islam and help them to understand the importance of legal pluralism within and between Islamic traditions.

KEYWORDS:

• Ijtihad
• religious education
• Islam
• hermeneutics

Introduction

This article explores the role of ijtihad in the UK religious studies classroom. It provides an overview of the history and practice of ijtihad in Islamic legal thinking before presenting a number of case studies taken from the principal author’s experience teaching RE. The article responds to ongoing research around the role of hermeneutics in religious education, including calls for RE teaching methodologies to embrace the ‘double hermeneutic’ which necessarily exists when students of religion and belief are encouraged to consider matters of scriptural interpretation (Aldridge 2018, 254; Jackson 1997, 2004; Wright 1998). The primary argument of this article is that, in order for us to successfully implement a hermeneutical approach in the RE classroom, the concept of ijtihad should be taught to students as early as possible. As a practicing Muslim teacher himself, working in schools with a majority Muslim cohort of students, the principal author has found that this teaching methodology is highly effective at tackling essentialist notions of Islam as well as intolerant attitudes about and among young Muslims.

Studies of Islam in British religious education have regularly pointed to the tendency for it to be misrepresented in monolithic or distorted terms (Revell 2008, 230; 2012, vii). Scholars also point to the difficulties in teaching a religion which is highly politicised in British public discourse, wrapped up in negative debates around British identity, women’s rights and extremism (Revell 2008, 232). Some have argued that rectifying this distortion requires educators to actively engage with the ‘political and policy context’ in which Islam is socially perceived (Revell 2012, vii). Others have called for a renewed emphasis on hermeneutics. The hermeneutical approach means more than simply presenting diversity in Islam, but instead requires showing that ‘diversity is … a necessary feature of the way humans operate’. According to this approach, challenging the tendency towards ‘essentialism’ means making the RE classroom is a space where students and teachers discuss the diverse ways Muslims address issues of faith and culture (Panjwani and Revell 2018, 271). This in turn, argues Aldridge, requires that the classroom is transformed into a ‘hermeneutical circle’ whereby the ‘happening of education itself has a hermeneutical significance’ and interpretation and understanding are reached between the student, teacher and text (Aldridge 2018, 246, 254).

The 2016 specification changes for GCSE Religious Studies put a major emphasis on the study of diversity within religious traditions, including Islam (See the 2016 Edexcel GCSE (9–1) Religious Studies B Specification). Yet while teachers are now encouraged to educate students about differences between Islamic traditions, evidence suggests that they are not inclined to discuss in their classrooms the ‘specific denominational identities of different Muslim groups’ (Thobani 2011, 164). They may teach that ‘some Muslims believe X’ and ‘some Muslims believe Y’, but without taking time to explain why this is the case. They often resort to pointing out ‘crude differences between denominations’ which can ‘sometimes inadvertently reinforce stereotypes about religions, rather than challenge them’ (Commission on Religious Education 2018, 5). These can be further entrenched through the use of media materials and examples which shift focus towards ‘controversial opinions and practices in Islam’ (Toft 2020, 326). Overcoming this shortfall entails going beyond merely explicating the different sources of legal authority between the Sunni and Shi’i traditions, for example. It instead means shedding light on the processes and methodologies Muslim scholars employ when releasing truth claims or legal opinions, and illustrating that legal edicts are usually just that: ‘opinions’ derived from fallible yet highly educated Muslim scholars (mujtahids or muftis).

The Commission on Religious Education’s (2018) report proposed that students consider worldviews when studying religious and non-religious traditions, emphasising the need to understand the root causes of diversity within religions (Commission on Religious Education 2018, 3). There are multiple and complex answers to this question in the Islamic context, which include issues of Islamic history, historiography, politics and belief. Yet one of the key reasons for diversity, both within the four Sunni legal schools (Hanafi, Maliki, Shafi’i and Hanbali) and between Sunnism and the various Shi’i traditions (Ja’fari, Ismaili and Zaidi, among others) stems from divergent understandings and applications of the principle of ijtihad. Literally meaning ‘to exert oneself’, ijtihad denotes the process of legal interpretation employed by Muslim jurists when forming an opinion. Studies of ijtihad to date have focused on its history, permissibility and role in reform within different Islamic juristic communities (Emon 2015; Khan and Ramadan 2011; Takim 2021). Yet its pedagogical function has been largely neglected. This is despite the importance of ijtihad in the consolidation and evolution of Islamic legal thinking and the collaborative and pedagogic nature of its application both in contemporary and historical contexts.

The concept of ijtihad is only taught to students in the UK if they choose to take the Islam route for A-Level Religious Studies and even then, ijtihad is rarely studied in significant detail. At GCSE level, students are not taught anything about the interpretative nature of the traditional Islamic sciences of fiqh (human interpretation of the Islamic Sharia) and usul al-fiqh (the sources of fiqh). This is the case with all GCSE exam boards since ijtihad is not a topic mentioned in the Subject Level Conditions and Requirements for Religious Studies document produced by the Department for Education to guide exam boards (Ofqual 2015). Encountering ijtihad at Key Stage 5 for the first time is too late because during Key Stage 3 and 4 students are expected to navigate difficult moral issues (e.g. abortion, war, gender roles etc) and various Muslim responses to them. The earlier ijtihad is taught, the quicker this key aspect of Islamic hermeneutics is unlocked and students – from both a Muslim and non-Muslim background – will become comfortable understanding diversity within Islam.

This article begins by exploring some of the reasons for diversity within Islam. It then offers a historical and contemporary analysis of the concept of ijtihad, focusing on its contested nature and discursive, pedagogical praxis within mainstream Sunni and the Ja’fari Shi’i traditions. Finally, the article presents its main argument through describing the pedagogical methodology employed by the principal author when teaching ijtihad in the RE classroom. This final section is shaped by the author’s faith-identity as a Muslim teacher with a commitment to fostering inter-faith understanding and collaboration between Islamic groups. His experience includes teaching in London secondary schools since 2013. Although non-faith schools, the majority of the pupils in them were from a Muslim background which provided insight into how young Muslims think about and approach Islam.

From his experience teaching in London, the principal author has found that Muslim students at key stage 4 often have very little contextual knowledge about diversity within Islam, which in turn fosters patterns of distrust and animosity between communities and essentialist notions of religion. This could be due several factors, such as the context in which they live (which affects their worldview) or Islamic education received at home. His pedagogical interventions are a direct result of his desire to frame Islamic thought and practice as diverse and pluralistic, bound together by an elastic interpretative tradition rooted in the immutable foundations of Islamic ethics and morals.

Setting the scene: diversity in Islam

This section introduces some of the main drivers and problematics of diversity in Islam, with particular focus on divergent scriptural interpretations between Sunni and Shi’i traditions. Almost all mainstream Sunni and Shi’i legal traditions agree that the Quran is a perfect articulation of God’s message and should be used as the principal source of knowledge. They also agree that the Sunna of the Prophet Muhammad is the most authoritative source for explaining the religious revelation. The main differences between Sunni and Shi’i traditions come at the level of substantiating, elaborating and interpreting the Quran and the Sunna. Shi’ism adheres to the notion of Imamate, which holds that the rightful leaders and guides of the Muslim community belong to Ahl al-Bayt, the direct descendants of Muhammad from his daughter Fatima and his son in law, Ali Ibn Ali Talib. For Shi’is, the akhbar (deeds and sayings) of the Imams constitute an authoritative source for the interpretation of the Quran and Sunna, and for deducing legal rulings in general, the Imams being infallible persons endowed with the charismatic authority of the Prophet himself (Dabashi 2011, 44).

Sunni traditions do not accept that the Imams were infallible nor that their consensus is binding. They instead base their interpretation of the Quran and Sunna on collections of Hadith, testimony of the deeds and sayings of the Prophet reported by his companions and transmitted on to future generations of scholars. Shi’i and Sunni religious scholars each compiled their own collections of Hadith and while there are certain chains of transmission on which both traditions agree, there are other chains which are disputed (Brown 2009, 137). We already have an interesting issue to grapple with here from a pedagogical perspective: how do these distinct interpretive methodologies for approaching the Quran and Sunna of Muhammad impact Islamic knowledge production?

The difference in sources between the two major Islamic traditions can have significant implications regarding the truth claims that Muslims make. It can lead to completely different interpretations of Islamic history and law, rendering completely different interpretations of Muhammad and his Sunna. For example, was the Quranic verse, ‘Today I have completed your religion for you’ (Quran 5:3) revealed in honour of Ali’s appointment as the Prophet Muhammad’s successor at Ghadir Khumm, or was it in reference to the laws of Islam? Was the Quran ‘created’ by a human who received divine revelation from God or has it always existed – being therefore ‘uncreated’? The conclusions you reach to these controversial questions depend on the interpretive modalities you adopt. The fact that the first Hadith collections were not compiled until the 760s, well after Muhammad’s lifetime, means all of the details of his life were recorded by people who never met him.¹ While chains of transmission were recorded in meticulous detail, the fact that so many Hadiths remain disputed speaks to the difficulty of ascertaining incontrovertible knowledge of the Prophet Muhammad’s Sunna.

More difficult still is the problem of context. The rich corpus of Hadith literature and the akhbar of the Imams refers to a particular historical period, in which many of the social, ethical and political issues faced by Muslims in the 1400 years since did not exist. The death of Muhammad created a vacuum in the spheres of political, moral and legal authority for the Muslim community, which was expanding rapidly following the Islamic conquests of the seventh and eighteen centuries. In the absence of infallible religious authority, Islamic scholars rose to the challenge of deducing the Sharia themselves. This process began in informal study circles (al-halaqat) in the late seventh century. These informal quasi-pedagogical gatherings of scholars and students evolved into the crystallisation of legal schools, each with their own distinct interpretative methodologies (Hallaq 2012, 63–70). This period, the first two and a half centuries after the death of the Prophet (from 632–875), has been dubbed the ‘classical era of ijtihad’. It was characterised by ‘astounding jurisprudential research and creativity’ and saw the first generations of Islamic scholars compiling reams of Hadith, offering similarly voluminous writings of interpretation, and determining a plethora of diverse positions on key issues of ritual, inheritance, justice and much more, including the permissibility of ijtihad itself (Khan and Ramadan 2011, 14).

As the years and centuries have gone by, the process of interpreting Islamic legal and moral positions has been affected by cultural and geographic factors. Muslims today live across the globe in a great many contexts. The diversity of social and cultural issues and customary practices they confront are immeasurable when compared with those faced by Muslims in the classical or medieval period, let alone the era of the Prophet. Global Islam can be interpreted as a ‘fusion of horizons’ encompassing a diversity of ‘scriptural interpretations, theological orientations, political positions, moral persuasions and artistic appropriations’ (Panjwani and Revell 2018, 273). Some scholars of Muslim diaspora communities seek to answer the question of how to ensure the adaptability and relevance of Islam in non-Muslim majority societies by urging Muslim leaders to ‘revive the spirit of ijtihad’ that existed during the formative period (Abu-Laban 1983, 88). As more people convert to Islam from other religious and cultural traditions, they bring with them different notions of morality, propriety and justice. Muslims who live in countries such as the UK are exposed to different worldviews, despite their shared religion. These worldviews, customs and contexts cannot be ignored by Islamic scholars, but the way they transpose them into the moral and ethical nexus of the Sharia depends on the way they approach the discipline of fiqh – that is, on how they pursue ijtihad.

Ijtihad: a contested concept

Teaching ijtihad in the RE classroom should involve making students aware of the contested nature of the concept, while also stressing that it is generally considered a consistent and legitimate principle within Islamic legal theory. This section provides a brief historical overview of the diverse ways ijtihad is understood by Islamic scholars when interpreting the Sharia. Derived from the Arabic root Ja-ha-da, ijtihad literally means to exert oneself. This three-letter root is the same as that used for jihad, which means to strive or struggle. Yet while jihad implies a struggle against an internal or physical enemy, the term ijtihad in Islamic jurisprudence signifies independent reasoning to arrive at an opinion or judgement (Esposito 2003). In modern standard Arabic the word can literally mean to work hard. One source which evidences the permissibility of ijtihad is a Hadith on a conversation between the Prophet Muhammad and his companion Muadh, who was sent to Yemen to act as a judge for the community there. Before Muhammad sent him on his way, he asked Muadh what he should use to make judgements:

‘Al-Harith ibn ‘Amr reported: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, sent Mu’adh to Yemen and he said, ‘How will you judge?’

Mu’adh said, ‘I will judge according to the Book of Allah’.

The Prophet said, ‘What if it is not in the Book of Allah?’

Mu’adh said, ‘Then, with the Sunnah of the messenger of Allah’.

The Prophet said, ‘What if it is not in the Sunnah of the Messenger of Allah?’

Mu’adh said, ‘Then, I will strive to form an opinion (ijtihad)’.

The Prophet said, ‘All praise is due to Allah, who has made suitable the messenger of the Messenger of Allah’’ (Al-Tirmidhi, 1978, 1327).²

In the absence of direct access to the Quran and the Sunna, Muhammad gave Muadh permission to make judgements using independent reasoning or ijtihad. In the period after the death of the Prophet Muhammad and in the rapidly expanding realms of the new Islamic Empire, ijtihad was the primary means through which a new class of scholars interpreted the Sharia. Having the ability to exercise ijtihad, to be a mujtahid, remains contingent on scholarly expertise and knowledge of theology, revealed texts, legal theory, legal reasoning and Arabic (Esposito 2003). Islamic scholars developed frameworks for assessing the legality of certain practices against the Sharia. Analogical reasoning (qiyas) and consensus of the scholars (ijma’) are key among these, while several Islamic legal traditions consider custom (‘urf), reason (‘aql) and istihsan (indicating juristic preference) as legitimate sources for determining legality (Hallaq 2012, 50; Takim 2021, 61). Ijtihad represents the practical application of these interpretative modalities in any given context. Yet there remains considerable confusion and disagreement about the exact level of interpretative freedom the principle of ijtihad should confer on the scholar, which topics fall within its purview, and who is actually permitted to practice it (Ali-Karamali and Dunne 1994, 240).

Partly as a result of this confusion, the role of ijtihad in the post-classical period up until today has been a subject of contestation both among Muslim scholars and within the historiography of Islamic law. The root of this disagreement can be traced to the oft-cited notion that, following the crystallisation of the four Sunni legal school in the tenth century, the gates to ijtihad were essentially closed because the scholars had reached consensus over all the substantial moral, ethical and political questions faced by the Muslim community. According to this interpretation, the era following the classical period of ijtihad until the nineteenth century was one of taqlid (adherence to precedent), when all religious scholars within the Sunni tradition exercised reasoning within the parameters established by the founders of the legal schools in the eighth and ninth centuries, prioritising explanation and elaboration rather than independent reasoning (Schacht 1993, 70–71).

The notion that the ‘gates to ijtihad’ were closed throughout the vast majority of Islamic history must be seen within the context of European discursive efforts to construct the Islamic East as an ossified legal space, incapable of generating the so-called institutional and political progress of the ‘West’ without outside interference (Ali-Karamali and Dunne 1994, 241–243). More recent scholarship has successfully challenged the notion that the Islamic scholars of the classical and post-classical period ever reached consensus on the closing of the gates to ijtihad. They have shown that, while ijtihad was used less liberally in later periods and scholarly adherence to the tenets of a given law school were more rigid, ijtihad continued to be a key obligation for Sunni Islamic jurists as they confronted new social and political problems within a dynamic and adaptable Islamic legal tradition (Ali-Karamali and Dunne 1994; Emon 2015; Hallaq 1984, 4).

In almost direct contradistinction to the development of ijtihad in the Sunni tradition, the role of ijtihad in Ja’fari Shi’ism has become more, not less, pronounced over the course of Shi’i history. In the era of the divine Imams and their immediate successors, Ja’fari scholars, including the Imams themselves, wrote critically that using ijtihad as a source of law was nothing more than personal conjecture. Since the thirteenth century, however, Shi’i jurists have come to see ijtihad, not as a source of law, but as the process of legal derivation in itself (Sadr 2005, 50–51). The notion of closing the door to ijtihad never featured in Shi’i legal discourse, while the judicial and political role of the scholars has only increased. ijtihad is especially prominent today due to the proliferation of Usuli jurisprudence among Shi’i scholars. Usulism mandates Shi’i believers to follow the legal guidance of a single living mujtahid, the Marja’iyya, or source, whose ijtihad is tantamount to divine ordinances (Takim 2021, 85).

The greater role permitted for ijtihad within modern Shi’i jurisprudence can help explain both a dynamic and conservative tendency within Shi’i thought. The authoritativeness of the ijtihad of the Marja’iyya can allow for radical innovations in fiqh. However, given the institutional structures which confer the right to ijtihad in Shi’ism are extremely limited and hierarchical – involving many years of study in Shi’i scholarly centres, usually in southern Iraq or Iran – only a tiny handful of individuals at any one time attain the expertise to legitimately practice. Alternatively, within a reformed Sunni modernist tradition, such as certain manifestations of Salafism, the adoption of unlimited ijtihad can enable any number of scholars to interpret the Sharia, arriving at a wide array of opinions. In this context, ‘contemporary ijtihad’ can ‘embrace democracy, development, human rights, political accountability, free markets, social justice, and international cooperation (Khan and Ramadan 2011, 241), while also underpinning some of the most orthodox and scripturally literalist Islamic movements. Although it occupies a position of utmost importance in Islamic history and law, ijtihad remains a contested notion. What is clear, is that knowledge of its application and principles is essential if students of Islam are to understand Islamic legal reasoning and the differences between Islamic traditions.

Ijtihad in the classroom

Teaching ijtihad to students as early as possible when Islam is covered on the RE curriculum will likely have a positive impact on their understanding of diversity in Islam. The most constructive way to teach ijtihad in the classroom is to allow students to mimic the work of Islamic scholars by deriving Islamic legal opinions themselves. Recent thinking in the field of religious education studies has favoured approaches which enable students to ‘reflect on’ or ‘work out’ their own worldview, rather than simply ‘learning from’ religion (Aldridge 2018, 251; Commissionon Religious Education 2017, 6). This section follows Aldridge’s dialogic approach to religious education in which he posits that dialogue between teacher, student and text should be prioritised over narrowly looking at a particular subject matter (Aldridge 2018, 253). This hermeneutic approach reminds us that RE teachers should not and cannot present ‘Islam’ or ‘Christianity’, but must instead facilitate discussion around some of the ways Muslims and Christians interpret their faiths (Aldridge 2018, 254).

This section provides a comprehensive description and example lesson plan on ijtihad devised by the author. It should be undertaken after students have been introduced to the concept of ijtihad and the epistemic debates at the centre of Islam mapped out above. The RE teacher should work with the students to discuss some real-world fiqhi debates, thus emulating the discursive nature of the study circles where Islamic scholars have discussed legal principles since the first centuries of Islam. To this end, I present the following Hadith to the students:

The Prophet (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) said: “Whatever of the izaar (lower garment) is below the ankles is in the Fire”. (Al-Bukhari, Compiled c.846, 5787)³

This is a Hadith from Sahih al-Bukhari, a collection of over 7500 Hadith compiled by Imam Muhammad al-Bukhari around the year 870. The Hadith has provoked a number of interpretations from Islamic scholars around the permissibility of wearing trousers below the ankles. Adopting an interpretative methodology which errs on the side of the literal meaning of Hadith literature, Hanbali scholars, with the notable exception of Ibn Taymiyyah, believe that wearing trousers below the ankles is disliked (makruh) (Al-Buhuti, 1968, 277). On the other hand, Hanafi scholars interpret the Hadith as only a prohibition on clothes which show arrogance and pride (Al-Razi 1997, 277). The Ja’fari school recognise a similar Hadith but share the opinion of the Hanafi jurists.

Any Hadith where Muhammad is commanding or forbidding something is suitable for this exercise. It can also work with the Hadith about Muslim males keeping a beard (Sahih Muslim, Compiled in the 800s, 261).⁴ These are good examples to begin with because they are relatively uncontroversial within Islamic jurisprudential debates (at least in comparison to ethical issues with a public policy relevance) and immediately relatable to all students, whether Muslim or non-Muslim. The fact that some student will come to this topic with the preconception in mind that wearing trousers above the ankles or maintaining a beard are the most appropriate forms of Islamic dress and comportment evidences some of the more essentialist notions of Islamic culture that the hermeneutical approach is designed to challenge.

Once students are presented with this source, I give them some questions to scaffold their thinking:

• What is being said?

• Who was it said to?

• Is the source authentic?

• Is it an order or is it advice?

• Can any of the words or phrases be understood differently?

• Does the ruling still apply today or is there an underlying rationale which remains relevant?

The purpose of these questions is to allow the students to emulate what a scholar of jurisprudence asks themselves when undertaking ijtihad and to show how different methodological approaches can lead to different interpretations. In exploring these questions, I support the student by giving some answers. We can see that the apparent meaning of the text is that wearing trousers that go below the ankles is haram (forbidden). Muslim students in the UK may already question whether this is the only meaning of the text since they will likely to be wearing school uniform where the hem of their trousers does go below the ankles. Are they performing something haram? We then consider the authenticity of the source, and conclude that, at least for Sunni Muslims, the narration is authentic since it comes from Sahih al-Bukhari which is considered canonical (Brown 2009, 38). This is a good opportunity to point out how the divergent interpretative methodologies between Sunni and Shi’i fiqh can produce different outcomes: Sahih al-Bukhari is not canonical for Jafari scholars and so they would not necessarily be bound by this particular Hadith.

Once these initial questions have been explored, I present the students with some hermeneutical questions to draw out different understandings of the text. On the issue of audience, we conclude that it was probably said to Muslim males in Medina whose lower garment fell below their ankles. I tell students that only someone who is an expert in Arabic would be able to deduce whether the Hadith was an order (amr), advice, or information (khabr) because the English translation will not convey the meaning in its entire accuracy. When looking at different understandings of some of the phrases, we explore if ‘will be in the fire’ implies a literal threat of hell for Muslims who wear garments below the ankles or if it is a non-literal expression used by Muhammad to convey his dislike for the action. Finally, we look at the context and employ analogical and hermeneutic reasoning to ask if an embargo on wearing long trousers should still apply today, especially in the British context. I offer context by explaining that during the time of Muhammad, wearing long garments was a sign of excessive pride because it implied an individual was actively seeking to display the fact they could afford more cloth than was strictly necessary. This is shown through another Hadith:

Whoever drags his garment out of pride, Allah will not look at him on the Day of Resurrection. (Al-Bukhari, 5791; Sahih Muslim, 2085)⁵

Students will now realise that in order to understand the intention behind a ruling, Islamic sources should not be considered in isolation. To ascertain whether the literal meaning of the Hadith maintains its intended meaning in a modern-day context, we ask the following question: does having extra cloth on our clothes necessarily signify pride or arrogance in contemporary British society? This is where students should begin to realise the importance of cultural and geographic specificity in deriving a jurisprudential opinion. Trousers in contemporary British society are not a sign of wealth but a customary piece of clothing, what Khan and Ramadan might describe as modern ‘European ‘urf’ (Khan and Ramadan 2011, 228).

The students are then presented with two conclusions based on two different interpretative methodologies:

• If this Hadith is reliable, then it applies forever since Muhammad’s Sunna is perfect. Wearing trousers where the hem goes below the ankle is not desirable according to this Hadith because Muslims should strive to live their lives according to the precise example of Muhammad and his companions as much as possible.

• Even though the Hadith is reliable and applies forever, its literal meaning does not apply today since the wearing of extra cloth does not signify pride. It is permissible to wear trousers that go below the ankles since Muhammad’s point was about expressing pride, rather than the cloth.

Through this initial exercise, the teacher has modelled the process of ijtihad in an accessible, scaffolded way which goes beyond simply describing diversity in Islam. This methodology sheds light on why Muslims have diverse opinions even when they rely on the same or similar sources and thus guards students – especially those from a Muslim faith background – from assuming that only one interpretative methodology and interpretation is correct. Students realise the influence of their worldview and the importance of context in the interpretative process.

The next phase is to open up the classroom into a ‘hermeneutical circle’ where the students are permitted to exercise ijtihad themselves using a different case study. While the teacher is still able to give some guided scaffolding and carefully selected sources, this process necessarily entails something of a ‘liberation’ for the teacher. No matter what texts they present and whatever their ‘pedagogical rationale’ in disclosing them, these texts and rationales are ‘unlikely to survive untransformed’ following contact with the children, who should be encouraged to approach the materials with their own prejudices and ways of framing (Aldridge 2018, 250).

The case study I use is about the permissibility of music within Islam, an often passionately debated subject. While there has always been disagreement among Islamic scholars about the permissibility of playing and listening to music, several classical and contemporary scholars disregard the evidence in favour of prohibition, arguing that music is only haram if it leads to other forbidden practices such as drinking (Al-Ghazali 2009; Al-Qaradawi, 2010, ‘On Music’; Al-Haq, 1980, ‘Fatwa on Music’). To begin with, we introduce the students to the Muslim folk singer, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. Students are given a short biography of Ali Khan, outlining his pluralistic upbringing in Pakistan where he interacted with Muslims, Hindus and Sikhs. His piety is demonstrated by the following quotation:

When I sing for God, I feel myself in accord with God. The house of God, Mecca, is right in front of me, and I worship. When I sing for Muhammad, peace be upon him, our prophet, I feel like I am sitting right next to his tomb, Medina, and paying him respect and admitting to myself that I accept his message. (Ehrlich 1997)

Students are then presented with a short clip from one of his performances where he sings about Allah being an entity who is accessible by adherents of different religions, not just Muslims, and how it would be a misunderstanding to conclude that the Divine is limited to one tradition. It is also worth showing the camera shots of the audience during his performances because they visibly are not only Muslims but people from various religious backgrounds. Through listening to Khan, students are exposed to someone who uses music and instruments to connect with Allah and convey the Islamic message of divine love.

Following this, we give the students the following carefully selected sources with scaffolded questions:

Among the people is he who engages with lahw that he may lead [people] astray from Allah’s path (Quran 31:6)

Successful are the believers that are humble when they pray and keep themselves away from lahw (Quran 23:1–3)

And [they are] those who do not testify to falsehood, and when they pass near lahw, they pass by with dignity (Quran 25:72)

The decision not to translate lahw as ‘music’ is deliberate. It encourages students to recognise that literal translation of the original Islamic sources is rarely straightforward and can affect how the text is understood. Analogical reasoning employed in ijtihad cannot rely solely on translating words, but requires transposing meanings into new contexts. The students are then told that lahw generally is understood to mean anything that is ‘useless’ or ‘distracting’. They are asked to think of examples of lahw, such as: spending too much time on phones or watching too much TV. I then ask them to consider how one could use these Quranic verses to assess the permissibility of music. Some students conclude that music is something that comes under lahw and is therefore haram. Other students conclude that, as long as the music does not keep you away from your religion, then it should not be considered lahw and is therefore permissible. They may reason that if music is haram on the basis of lahw, other permissible things would also be rendered haram.

After exploring the Quranic sources, the second step is to introduce the students to sources from the Sunna relevant to the discussion on music:

Stay away from ghina because it destroys the modesty … it kills one’s manliness and leads one to alcohol and he will then become drunk. (Al-Suyuti)⁶

Iblis (Satan) was the first person to use ghina. (Al-Majlisi, Compiled late 1600s, 235)

Musical instruments were played in front of the Prophet (to welcome him) during his first arrival in Medinah and Abu Bakr wanted to tell off those who were playing the instruments but the Prophet stopped him saying: ‘Leave them alone O Abu Bakr so that the Jews (of Medinah) will also learn and know that our religion is relaxed and accommodating!’ (Al Qurtubi)⁷

All actions are based on intentions. (Sunan an-Nasa’i, Compiled in the 800s, 3794)⁸

Once again, the decision not to translate ghina as ‘music’ is deliberate. Students are told that ghina, in general, is defined as ‘singing that changes someone’s mood’. Using this information, the students are then asked to reflect on the sources. They first look at the negative effects of ghina, including the fact that it can harm one’s modesty and is associated with alcohol. They are asked to consider if ghina and music are the same thing or whether ghina is a particular kind of music. Some students begin to conclude that only music that is associated with drunkenness and promotes immodesty is haram, while other forms of music are acceptable. This is highlighted by al-Qurtubi’s narration of an incident where Muhammad reportedly did not ban a form of music being played in public. Students are also asked to consider the importance of intention within Islamic ethics and if that affects their view of music. From this, students again begin to realise how the analogical and hermeneutical reasoning at the core of ijtihad are wholly reliant on contextual factors.

Finally, students are given some scholarly opinions around the topic of music:

Whoever says that all music is prohibited, let him also claim that the songs of birds are prohibited. (Al-Ghazali 2009, 10)

Listening to music, attending musical gatherings, and studying music of all genres and instruments is allowed as long as it is not accompanied with immoral and sinful acts, or used as a way to invite people towards haram (prohibited) behaviour, and it does not preoccupy a person away from observing the obligatory acts of worship. (Al-Haq 1980, ‘Fatwa on Music’)

They are asked to reflect on why, according to al-Ghazali, the prohibition of all music is not logical even if al-Ghazali himself considered some types of musical instruments and songs to be prohibited. Students may agree with al-Ghazali’s analogy between music and birdsong, concluding that this would make the prohibition absurd. Others may reject the notion that music and birdsong are comparable.

Once the class has discussed all the sources, I ask the students to produce their ‘fatwa’ on music – using their own ijtihad – in response to the question: is music forbidden or permissible in Islam? They are asked to write a detailed response justifying their conclusion using all the scaffolding they have been given. They should then be invited to share their responses with the class. It will hopefully happen that in a class of around thirty students, there will be a wide array of methodologies and interpretations, engendering a number of different conclusions. The students should now begin to see that a religion with approximately one and half billion adherents will inevitably come to a great many different opinions over key aspects of law, morality and ethics.

The purpose of this exercise is not for students to find the ‘correct’ answer. Rather, it is for them to mimic the work of an Islamic scholar; to actively engage in what has sometimes been dubbed the Islamic ‘discursive tradition’, with its intersecting genres, interpretative frameworks and semantic strategies for realising moral truths and legal knowledge in a permanently pluralistic religious tradition (Asad 2009, 10). Students realise that the process of deriving a legal opinion is not simple, but requires the consideration of multiple and often complex source material, analogical reasoning and an understanding of diverse contexts and experiences. Students should now understand the principal point introduced at the start of the lesson as well as the hermeneutical principle underpinning the lesson’s rationale: post-Muhammad, the struggle to find a single Islamic truth will always exist and, as citizens and – for some – practicing Muslims, they will play a part in the realisation of that truth through the production and comprehension of meaning and understanding in diverse contexts.

Conclusion

When students are familiarised with the complex interpretative processes behind Islamic jurisprudential reasoning, rather than being presented with different Muslim opinions in a vacuum, they will understand that the views of different Islamic traditions and scholars are not arbitrary opinions or statements of fact, but ‘opinions’ based on sophisticated interpretative methodologies. This will enable students to understand diversity in Islamic thought and recognise that Islam is not, and has never been, a monolithic religion with a single view of all issues. As a Muslim teacher, I hope that this will enable students to see Islam as a rich and diverse tradition where academic disagreement is welcomed and where it is perfectly acceptable to come to different conclusions.

Familiarising students with the concept of ijtihad will also provide them with a basic understanding of Islamic legal theory. As discussed above, different Muslim thinkers and fiqhi traditions have offered different interpretations about how ijtihad should be undertaken, and who should be allowed to practice it. By making students emulate the work of mujtahids themselves, while ensuring they are aware that such work should be undertaken primarily by scholars with the requisite linguistic and religious training, the students will come to understand that ijtihad in itself does not represent a deviation from the principles of Islam according to most Islamic traditions and is instead a key pillar of jurisprudential interpretation. Even if they come to conclude that their preferred method of understanding the Sharia is to follow an interpretative path which seeks to keep ijtihad to a minimum – by prioritising strict adherence to an established Islamic legal school, for example, or following a largely literalist interpretation of the Sunna – this lesson will still enable them to appreciate that ijtihad is a legitimate and constructive part of Islamic intellectual and legal thought.

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Additional information

Notes on contributors

Zameer Hussain

Zameer Husain is a Religious Studies Consultant and an experienced secondary school Religious Education teacher and Head of Department. He has sat on the National Association of Teachers of RE Executive Committee and has various credits as an author. Zameer is an experienced public speaker who has represented RE in several contexts at various national and international venues. He continually provides training for RE teachers, guest lectures at universities and places of worship about religion, appears in the media and participates in interfaith activities.

Christopher Cooper-Davies

Christopher Cooper-Davies is a historian of the modern Middle East, specialising in the history of Shi’ism and Shi’i reformist thought in the twentieth century. He is currently an ERC funded Post-Doctoral Research Associate at the Faculty of History at the University of Oxford.

Notes

1. The earliest collection of Hadith was Muwatta by Imam Malik, the founder of the Maliki school of Islamic jurisprudence.

2. In book reference: Book 15, Hadith 7.

3. In book reference: Book 77, Hadith 5.

4. In book reference: Book 2, Hadith 71.

5. In book references: al-Bukhari Book 77, Hadith 9; Sahih Muslim Book 37, Hadith 72.

6. From Jalal al-Din al-Suyuti’s ad-Dur al-Manthur (vol. 5, p. 308) quoted in Bhimji (2018), The Status of Music in Islam.

7. From Al Qurtubi’s al-Jami li ahkam al-Quran (vol.14, p. 54), quoted in al-Haq, ‘Fatwa on Music By the Grand Mufti and Shaykh of al-Azhar’.

8. In book reference: Book 35, Hadith 34.