at the Fayziya Madrasa in the holy city of Qom. The speech, which followed an earlier one delivered on the occasion of the fortieth-day commemoration on April 3, 1963, of Iranian political martyrs who were killed by government troops for insurrection at the site, resulted in his exile. In his speech he boldly criticized the internal and external policies of the Shah and his government.18 More than a decade later, on November 23, a week before the start of Muharram in 1978, Khomeini issued a declaration called “Muharram: The Triumph of Blood over the Sword” in order to bolster the claims of the revolution. The declaration was taped at his exile headquarters in Neauphle-le-Château, France, and distributed in Iran through an intricate network of mosques. The opening paragraph of the declaration is poignant and worth quoting at length:
With the approach of Muharram, we are about to begin the month of epic heroism and self sacrifice—the month in which blood triumphed over the sword, the month in which truth condemned falsehood for all eternity and branded the mark of disgrace upon the forehead of all oppressors and satanic governments; the month that has taught successive generations throughout history the path of victory over the bayonet; the month that proves the superpowers may be defeated by the word of truth; the month in which the leader of Muslims taught us how to struggle against all tyrants of history, showed us how the clenched fists of those who seek freedom, desire independence, and proclaim the truth may triumph over tanks, machine guns, and the armies of Satan, how the word of truth may obliterate falsehood.19
Less than two months after the Ayatollah’s speech, the Shah left Iran with a box of Iranian soil in his hand on January 16, 1979, enabling Khomeini to return to his homeland after living in exile for fourteen years.
The Shah’s abdication serves as a compelling example of the Karbala paradigm’s power to organize collective social experiences. His departure from Iran also illustrates the persuasively effective use of the Karbala paradigm as an ideological tool for rallying the masses against tyranny and oppression. As Bruce Lincoln summarizes, “this myth was thus a useful instrument, one through which Iranian national identity could be continuously reconstructed along the same traditional pattern. Yet … the embattled Iranian ‘ulama gave a radical new twist to the story as they identified the shah … with the quasi-demonic assassin and usurper Yazid.”20 Yazid becomes the arch-villain of the narrative, standing for any oppressive and unjust ruling force. By equating the Shah with the prototypical villain, Iranian clerics were able to mobilize a successful popular movement to oppose what they understood to be an unjust rule. Lincoln goes on to point out a distinct shift in the use of the paradigm: “Thus interpreted, the Karbala myth no longer served primarily as the ancestral invocation through which Shi‘i Iranians could define themselves in contradistinction to Sunni Arabs, but more important it became the revolutionary slogan through which the emerging movement of opposition to the shah was mobilized.”21 These two points—that is, ethnic and sectarian difference from Sunnis and oppositional ideology—are themes that reoccur historically both in South Asia and in the Caribbean, as the reader may note throughout this study.
While Muharram observances affect the entire Islamic community, albeit for different reasons, this widely publicized example amply demonstrates the powerful impact that the historical event has had on the collective psyche of Shi‘i Muslims. Because Muharram rituals can be expressed both as religious mourning and as willful acts of public agitation, they have often been vehicles for political action and social mobilization. To return again to Khomeini’s pronouncements, he urged his country-men to make “Islam known to the people, then … create something akin to ‘Ashura.” He also said that protestors should still gather during Muharram to beat their breasts, but they should also “create out of it a wave of protest against the state of the government.”22 Moreover, after the Iraqi invasion of Iran in the fall of 1980, the theme of ‘āshūrā’ was again invoked to mobilize people for the war efforts. Many of the Iranian combatants on the front lines in the war had the following inscriptions written on their helmets and headbands: “The epic-makers of ‘āshūrā’” or “‘āshūrā’ is the epic of faith, the epic of blood.”23 The historical epic of the rite’s development and its emotive power to express sociopolitical discontent is a recurring theme in this book.24
The rituals of lamentation, so important to Shi‘i Islam, are held mainly during the month of Muharram and the following month of Safar. They are observed especially on ‘āshūrā’, the day of Husayn’s martyrdom, and on the twentieth of Safar, called arba‘i̅n, the fortieth day after Husayn’s death, when remembrances of a departed loved one are normatively held throughout the world by Muslims of all persuasions. These quintessential days, with their annual periodicity, punctuate the Karbala paradigm and serve constantly to remind the Shi‘ah of their larger purpose in the cosmic picture. Before moving on to discuss the rituals at greater length in the next chapter, it is important to establish the logical and politicotheological significance of the Karbala paradigm through a brief recounting of the historical events leading up to Husayn’s demise. I want to underscore the enduring narrative quality of the rite because Husayn’s exemplary and paramount role in the Shi‘i worldview serves as the master narrative that orders the lives of adherents and serves as a model for social and religious action. For this reason, I must delve into the events that are so vividly recalled each year during Muharram.
The Prehistory and History of Muharram
Although ‘āshūrā’, the tenth day of Muharram, was prior to the birth of Islam already a sacred day of fasting for Hebrews as Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement), the day takes on a new significance in the Islamic context.25 Even before the tragedy at Karbala, Muslims observed ‘āshūrā’ as a day of fasting during Muhammad’s period in Medina.26 But in terms of eschatology, the day takes on special cosmological and historical significance for the global Shi‘i community, especially the Twelver branch of Shi‘ism, because it was on this day that Husayn was killed for political reasons at Karbala.27
After Muhammad’s death in midsummer of the year 11 A.H./632 C.E., a vacuum was created in the preexisting religiopolitical structure of the expanding body of believers in Medina because the Prophet never clearly specified who was to succeed him as caliph (khali̅fah), according to Sunni Muslims. The Shi‘ah, however, claim that Muhammad ordered his son-in-law Ali to be his successor by appointment and testament. At any rate, an assembly of the most powerful men in Medina gathered together on the day that Muhammad died to decide who was to become the first khali̅fah of Islam. Following a short deliberation, the council elected Abu Bakr, a close companion of the Prophet, to rule the Islamic world and guide the community of believers. Shi‘i Muslims, of course, dispute this decision, arguing that the caliphate should be rooted within the House of the Prophet (ahl al-bayt). They thus view Ali, husband of Muhammad’s last surviving daughter Fatimah, to be the rightful heir to the Prophet’s position as spiritual and political leader. The Shi‘ah believe the Medina decision to elect Abu Bakr to be spurious because they argue that it was a divergence from a divinely mandated tradition dating from the beginning of time. It is said that Ali himself did not acknowledge Abu Bakr as khali̅fah until after the death of Fatimah,28 who only lived a short while after the death of her father—six months, seventy-five days, or forty days according to various traditions.29 Even though Abu Bakr attempted to bring the Alids, those people who remained faithful to the House of the Prophet, into the fold, apostasy filled the empire. Popular opinion often claims that the faction that led to the birth of the Shi‘i branch of Islam originated at this time.
Ali did, however, become caliph in 35 A.H./656 C.E., twenty-four years after Muhammad’s death.30 But there still remained factions in the growing Islamic Empire. Because the election of Ali took place in Medina, his support was strong there. Meccans, however, were not as sympathetic toward him. This relationship was further strained when Ali transferred his seat of power from Medina to Kufah in Iraq. Ali inadvertently isolated himself from the original home of Islam as a result of this move.
Syria also did
