PI 3 (1+2) pp.

25–43 Intellect Limited 2014

Performing Islam
Volume 3 Numbers 1 & 2
© 2014 Intellect Ltd Article. English language. doi: 10.1386/pi.3.1-2.25_1

Alexandre Papas
Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique

Creating a Sufi soundscape:

Recitation (dhikr) and
audition (sama–’) according
to Ahmad Ka–sa–nı– Dahbı–dı–
(d. 1542)

Abstract Keywords
A famous Naqshbandı- Sufi, Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- Dahbı-dı-, surnamed Makhdu-m-i A’zam, dhikr
had great influence on Islamic practices and thought in the Chinese part of Central Central Asia
Asia as early as the late sixteenth century when his descendants, known as Makhdu-- Naqshbandiyya
mza-da, conducted missionary campaigns in the Tarim basin. Among the 30 or so sama-’
treatises that he wrote, two are of particular interest for understanding Islamic soundscape
soundscapes. The first work is entitled Risa-la-yi dhikr, or Treatise on Recitation, and Sufism
describes the devotional repetition of the profession of faith (shaha-da). The second Xinjiang
text is devoted to the practice of spiritual audition (sama-’). This Risa-la-yi sama-’iyya
is basically a defence of Sufi musical performances. A close reading of the texts shows
that the master nourished the ambition to promote a profound and encompassing
vision of Sufi practices, which would educate and, at the same time, enlarge his
circles of disciples. Despite the later divisions among the Makhdu-mza-da branches,
and the heated debates on forms of dhikr and sama-’, Ahmad Ka-sa-nı-’s teaching was
an inaugural act that has left a deep legacy for the Sufi soundscape of Xinjiang.

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Alexandre Papas

Debates over soundscapes

In both Central Asia and China, the initiatory practices of recitation (dhikr)
and audition (sama-’) were constantly, and still are, discussed and debated
among Sufi authorities, particularly those of the Naqshbandı- tradition: which
form of dhikr should be performed? Should it be loud or silent, public or inti-
mate? What are the effects of sama-’? Does sama-’ complement the dhikr? This
is by no means exceptional in the Muslim world, and everywhere these issues
have raised complex controversies rather than simple dichotomies. In the
Maghreb (northwest Africa), for instance, medieval and post-medieval shay-
khs discussed recitation and audition in subtle ways (Amri 2006): Abu- Madyan
(d. 1197) appreciated sama-’ and never reproved it for his disciples but he scarcely
participated himself as he was, according to a hagiographer, too sensitive to
its effects; Abu- Hasan al-Sha-dhilı- (d. 1258) rejected sama-’ for the reason that
it fostered desire and passion instead of spiritual knowledge; Ahmad Zarru-q
(d. 1493) explained at length that dhikr and sama-’ had to be practised under strict
conditions (at appropriate times, without dance or shouts, by well-prepared
practitioners with correct intentions). In the modern period, Ahmad al-‘Ala-wı-
(d. 1934), founder of the Sha-dhiliyya Darqa-wiyya ‘Ala-wiyya, promoted both
practices using classic scriptural arguments as well as his own paradoxical
explanations: some Sufis perform impressive loud dhikr but this is too ostenta-
tious to be sincere, whereas others remain silent but are actually repeating the
name of God; sama-’ can be defended with arguments and writings, but its best
support is to remain silent and to experience it (Geoffroy 2006).
In the specific case of Eastern Turkestan or present-day Xinjiang, the history
of the Sufi initiatory practices has been often reduced to a conflict between
two factions within the Naqshbandiyya: the Jahriyya, which defended oral
recitation (dhikr-i jahrı-), and the Khufiyya, which defended silent recitation
(dhikr-i khufı-). A logical consequence of this dichotomy is that the first group
would practise sama-’ since it was in continuity with – in fact, they were often
overlapping – oral recitation, while the other would reject sama-’ as it contra-
dicted the vow of silence and the interiority of Sufi techniques. The Jahriyya
is associated with the Isha-qiyya, a Naqshbandı- lineage founded by Isha-q
-
Khwa-ja (d. 1599), and the Khufiyya with the Afa-qiyya, a Naqshbandı- lineage
--
founded by Afaq Khwaja (d. 1694). Both were descendants of the Naqshbandı-
-
shaykh Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- Dahbı-dı- (d. 1542), also known as Makhdu-m-i A‘zam,
a surname that gave the family name Makhdu-mza-da to the descendants. In
brief, the conflict continued until the nineteenth century and degenerated in
violent clashes throughout northwest China.
As I have argued elsewhere (Papas 2005: 54–57, 65, 119, 155–59), such a
presentation is largely wrong and based on oversimplifications concerning Sufi
doctrine and practice. Serious conflicts indeed opposed Jahrı- and Khufı- parti-
sans from the 1760s onwards, mainly in Gansu and Qinghai, giving political
meaning to issues related to orthopraxy (Lipman 1997: 89–93, 103–111). It is
clear, however, that from the late sixteenth century, when the Makhdu-mza-da
began to spread in the Tarim basin, to the turn of the eighteenth and nine-
teenth centuries, a period of decline of the competing Makhdu-mza-da, both
-
Isha-qı-s and Afa-qı-s performed oral and silent dhikr as well as sama-’ in a great
-
variety of types and sizes. A main argument quoted in a hagiography of Afa-q
Khwa-ja entitled Hida-yat na-ma was the following: according to hadiths and
classic Sufi sources, it appears that, without the listening of the mystics’ voices,
mankind (bashariyyat) would be doomed to destruction. It means that sama-’

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 Creating a Sufi soundscape

aims at the masses who must follow the Sufi master in order to keep their own
humane qualities – i.e. their capacity of devotion to God (Papas 2004: 173–78).
As we will see, the argument echoes the teachings of Ahmad Ka-sa-nı-. During
the nineteenth century, Xinjiang saw the rapid expansion of the Naqshbandiyya
Mujaddidiyya, a rigorist branch founded by Ahmad Sirhindı- the ‘Renovator’
(mujaddid) (d. 1624). Yet, despite their reputation of orthopraxy, several
Mujaddidı- groups used loud and silent recitation as well as audition (Zarcone
2000: 321–32). Interestingly, one of these groups, the Husayniyya, explained
that they allowed these controversial practices on the basis of the encompass-
ing views of Ahmad Ka-sa-nı-, who tolerated several methods and was one of
their spiritual ancestors and sources of inspiration (Babadžanov 1996: 400–02).
In Eastern Turkestan at least, the rivalry among the Makhdu-mza-das did
not concern dhikr and sama-’, which, in turn, never suffered from restrictions.
In terms of the Islamic soundscape, the early modern and modern periods
were thus marked by an increasing Sufi presence in mosques and lodges,
which weekly, sometimes biweekly, resonated with impetuous breaths,
shouts and cries during the night, and with singing accompanied by dance in
the daytime. Crowds were not only summoned for prayers but also for collec-
tive Sufi rituals. Other sites remained discrete and quiet, and sheltered small
circles of murmuring gnostics, if not mute individuals in spiritual isolation
(khalwat). I shall argue that this mixed picture finds its doctrinal origin in the
teachings of Ahmad Ka-sa-nı-. The ‘Greatest Master’ (makhdu-m-i a‘zam) was,
on the one hand, an obvious major authority for the Makhdu-mza-das and, on
the other, a pedagogue shaykh who had the ambition to extend politically
and territorially the Naqshbandı- influence, and also to refound – rather than
to renovate (mujaddid) – the tarı-qa as a classicist, inclusive, even universalist
tradition (Papas 2010a). To reconsider the original debate about recitation and
audition that influenced the Naqshbandı- Sufis of the Tarim basin, I propose
to read closely two writings of Ahmad Ka-sa-nı-.
I use a manuscript preserved in Istanbul University, under call number FY
649, copied in 997–8/1589–90, quite early after Ahmad Ka-sa-nı-’s death. The
codex of 256 folios is entitled Majmu-‘a-yi rasa-’ı-l (compendium of the treatises)
and contains 27 short works written in Persian by the shaykh. I will skip most
of the illustrative narratives and scriptural quotations and focus on the line of
argumentation.

Treatise on recitation
The Risa-la-yi dhikr, or Treatise on Recitation, runs from fol. 136a to 145b.
Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- starts by explaining that the reason for the superiority (afza-
liyyat) of the Naqshbandı- mode of recitation over other recitations is that
the formula ‘there is no god but god’ (la- ila-ha ilalla-h), that is, the profession
of faith (shaha-da), is composed of two parts (fol. 137a). In the first part, the
otherness (ghayr, ghayriyyat), i.e. other than God, is denied, and in the second
part there is the confirmation of God’s presence in the heart. The negation
precedes the affirmation because, before the dhikr, the otherness had not been
denied and God’s presence not yet confirmed. Here the author quotes a quat-
rain composed in Turki by ‘Ubayd Alla-h Kha-n (d. 1540):

Oh disciple, say that God is close to you

Look closely to say that He is in your vision

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Alexandre Papas

1. ‘Solitude of society’ Put this kind of ego in the solitude of society1

alludes to the
Naqshbandı̄ formula Say the ikhla-s2 and that there is no god but god
‘solitude within
society’, which means
the experience of Sufi ‘Ubayd Alla-h was the ruler of Bukhara from 1533 to 1539. He was also a disci-
devotional life while ple of Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- with whom he had oral and written discussions, includ-
acting in society.
ing exchange of mystical poetry (Papas 2012). This quotation is a way, for the
2. The ikhla−s refers to sura author, to dedicate his treatise to the Khan as well as to foster the political
112 of the Quran, which
teaches the oneness support of his doctrine and practice. Then the shaykh resumes his explana-
(tawhı−d) of God. tions (fol. 137b): God has created the world and man, but if men have been
rewarded with divine qualities (such as knowledge, life, wisdom, force, listen-
ing, seeing, speech and willing) men have also acquired human qualities from
the world. The problem is that these qualities put veils in front of men, and
these veils hide the aim of men’s life, which is the divine Truth. It is necessary
to remove these veils. The reason why the aforementioned mode of recita-
tion is the most excellent of all recitations (afza-l-i hama adhka-r) is that dhikr
removes from the heart the otherness (‘there is no god’) and then establishes
God in the heart (‘but god’). Once the otherness is denied and God’s presence
established, the disciple eliminates from his heart all traces of being (nisha-n-i
wuju-d wa hastı-), so that nothing remains but the love of God. Paradoxically,
we read, the disciple becomes unconscious (bı-khu-dı- wa bı-shu‘u-rı-) but he is not
deprived of attention (huzu-rı- wa a-ga-hı-).
After presenting the dhikr as a purgative technique, Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- intro-
duces a typology of disciples, called ‘travellers’ (sa-lika-n). They are of three
kinds (qism): the beginner (mubtadı-), the intermediate (mutawassit) and the
accomplished (muntahı-). Before detailing the typology, the author stresses
one important point (fol. 138a–139b): whoever is engaged in the Sufi path
and the practice of recitation must be trained by a perfect (ka-mil) master who
himself has been trained by another perfect master. There is thus a legitimate

Figure 1: Loud recitation (dhikr-i jahri), Turkestan, 1860–70s (Turkestanskii

Al’bom. Part 2, vol. 1, pl. 65, no. 184) © Library of Congress, 2012.

28
 Creating a Sufi soundscape

initiatory line – the silsila – from master to master, which goes back to the
Prophet Muhammad. In other words, at the top of the Sufi hierarchy stands
the perfect master who can guide the disciples. The disciples must not learn
the dhikr from someone who has not reached spiritual perfection, be he a
father, brother, companion, master or scholar. Those who have not reached
this point remain in the state of seed; being unripe, they cannot become a
plant. Even those who have the power to accomplish miracles or those who
enjoy revelations (muka-shafa-t) have not necessarily attained perfection, which
is the union with the True Beloved (wasl-i mahbu-b-i haqı-qı-), i.e. God, and
nothing else. Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- recalls that discipleship is based on companion-
ship with the master, which is known as suhbat: this companionship means
the Sufi training under the direction of the shaykh and the spiritual discussion
between the master and his disciples. For readers wishing more information
about the rules of suhbat, the author refers to another of his treatises (analysed
in detail in Papas 2008).

Three types of dhikr

Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- goes back to the typology, stating that ‘since there are three
types of disciples, there are three types of recitations’.

The dhikr of the beginner is as follows (fol. 139b–140a): the reciter has
to say (guft) ‘there is no God but God’ (la- ila-ha ilalla-h) within three
movements (haraka-t) and three pauses (wuqu-f). Under the guidance
of the master, several times during the exercise the disciple will prac-
tice retention of the breath under the navel, the tongue stuck to the
palate. The breath should be considered his last breath, a voluntary
suffocation. The three movements are: saying la- the reciter raises his
head; saying ila-ha he moves towards the right; saying ilalla-h he moves
towards the left. During the first movements all bonds, all the veils
covering God’s presence, are removed from heart. During the third
movement, the thought of God goes to the heart – the so-called ‘body
part in the form of a pine cone located in the left side’ – and goes
down the body until it gives an impression of heat in the feet. Each
movement marks a pause. The three pauses are: the numerical pause
(wuqu-f-i ‘adadı-), the temporal pause (wuqu-f-i zamanı-) and the heart
pause (wuqu-f-i qalbı-). The first pause consists in holding the breath and
counting ta-q ta-q from three to 21 times until the next breath. The aim is
to get rid of all bonds; this is why this pause is necessary for the success
of the dhikr. If there is still manifestation of anything in the heart, it
means that the dhikr has failed and the reciter has to start again. The
second pause consists in holding the breath then releasing it; between
two breaths, the Sufi must be attentive, that is to say, his heart must be
empty of any thought. The third pause consists in saying ilalla-h to fill
up the heart with God’s presence.

Before discussing the dhikr of the intermediate, Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- makes

a digression on the seven conditions to be met for the dhikr performance
(fol. 140a–141a). The first condition is that the ablutions of the Sufi must
be understood as a continuous inner purification. The second condition is
to speak from the heart to the heart, not from the stomach, which does not
give results. More precisely, speaking ‘from the heart’ means speaking from

29
Alexandre Papas

3. The author alludes to the real heart (dil-i haqı-qı-); ‘speaking to the heart’ means speaking to the
the possible origin of
the term su−fı−, from
body part in the form of a pine cone located in the left side. The third condi-
the word su−f meaning tion is that the movements do not simply appear in front of men but are
wool, hence the woolen abstract (ma‘nawı-): they are physical as well as spiritual; the more they are
cloak.
concealed the more they are subtle. The fourth condition is to practise reci-
tation continuously. If the Sufi practises it sometimes and sometimes does
not, there will be no result ‘even after a thousand years!’ The fifth condition
is to avoid any vile (na-jins) person in companionship, since man is a creature
who ‘takes the colours’ of the one with whom he sits. Therefore, the disciple
must sit only with Sufis. The sixth condition is to pay attention to food and
to dress appropriately, since food is the origin of the existence of men, and
dress is the origin of the Sufi path.3 The disciple must check everything he
eats to know whether it is pure (hala-l) or impure. According to Baha-’ al-Dı-n
Naqshband (d. 1389) himself, this is not only with regard to the products but
also to the cooking methods, which must be clean and pure. Cooking with
negligence will make negligent food and negligent eaters. As for the clothes,
the Sufi should know that the apparent and the actual, the outer (za-hir) and
the inner (ba-tin), are linked together. The way he dresses expresses the way
he thinks, and the way he thinks expresses the way he dresses. The seventh
and last condition is computation (muha-saba). The practice of the disciple
requires a long period of time to give results; being continuous, we read, his
practice requires attention (mura-qaba) and computation. More concretely,
the disciple controls his breathing so that no breath comes out with negli-
gence (ghaflat). If he notices that a breath has been produced with negli-
gence instead of vigilance (a-ga-hı-), he must do repentance and ask for pardon
70 times.
Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- returns to his typology and describes briefly the dhikr of
the intermediate (fol. 141b): it is performed by the metaphoric heart (dil-i
maja-zı-), which resides in the body part forming a pine cone but without the
aforementioned difficulties. At this time, all troubles have disappeared and
the heart reaches the heart pause (wuqu-f-i qalbı-) – this until the Sufi stops
talking (az guftan ba-z -ı stad). This suggests that the dhikr is becoming silent. For
some practitioners, they are alternatively conscious and unconscious. Some
people are so unconscious that they become permanently unconscious. This is
the stage of annihilation of annihilation (fana--yi fana-) where the Sufi’s exist-
ence is annihilated and no trace of being remains. He becomes a stranger to
himself. However, some Sufis think erroneously that this stage is the end of
the spiritual initiation and that they have reached perfection. In fact, this is the
end of the spiritual progression of the intermediate disciple but this is only the
beginning for the accomplished gnostic.
The dhikr of the accomplished is as follows: it is the stage of fana--yi fana-
where attention to God is the essence, when there is no longer consciousness
and nothing of the humane characteristics remains, but when God replaces
the being. It corresponds to the annihilation of annihilation of annihilation
(fana--yi fana--yi fana-), or perfect nothingness. At this moment, the disciple is
alternatively a stranger to himself and he is conscious of himself. The presence
of these two characteristics is called in the Naqshbandı- technical language
the ‘existence of inexistence’ (wuju-d-i ‘adam). The Sufi must strive to main-
tain these two characteristics: he should stay unconscious of his existence so
that nothing of the being remains, and at the same time he must make his
unconsciousness the essence of dhikr until he eliminates the unconsciousness
itself. This state of constant vigilance is called uniting with the non-existing

30
 Creating a Sufi soundscape

(wasl-i i‘da-m), and after that he can return to human (marda-na) activities.
Eventually, the Sufi is equally present to himself and present to God.

The effects of dhikr

At this point, Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- feels the need to give some brief precision about
the concept of fana- in relation to his typology (fol. 142b). Just as there are
three types of disciples and three types of recitation, there are three types
of annihilation. The first type is the annihilation of human existence (wuju-d-i
bashariyyat) and it is the end of the dhikr of the beginner. The second type
is the annihilation of the disciple’s ego (nafs-i sa-lik) and it is the end of the
dhikr of the intermediate. The third type is the annihilation of all the qualities
(awsa-f) of the disciple – that is, the elimination of everything including uncon-
sciousness, and it is the end of the dhikr of the accomplished. After elimi-
nation, nothing appears but the vigilance. Thanks to this state of the divine
person, the Sufi finds awareness of God’s presence in whatever he thinks.
The stage (maqa-m) attained by these ‘knowers of God’ (khuda- da-na-n) has been
called either attraction (kashish), pain and passion (dard wa su-z), or love (‘ishq),
or oneness and unity (tawhı-d wa wahdat).
The Treatise on Recitation ends with a warning (fol. 142b–145a). The spir-
itual state (ha-l, pl. ahwa-l) experienced by the accomplished Sufi is so strong
that some great mystics make shocking utterances, such as the famous gnos-
tic Ba-yazid Bista-mı- (d. 874 or 878) shouting ‘Glory to me, how great is my
majesty’ (subha-nı- ma a‘zama sha-nı-), as if he was identifying himself with God.
For Naqshbandı- masters, the problem is to know whether it is better to talk
about these spiritual states, including their possible shocking dimension for
the non-initiate, or to keep silence. Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- considers that Sufi teach-
ings are not appropriate and not even helpful for all disciples. This is why, we
read, he usually does not describe the spiritual states during conversation with
all disciples (suhbat); yet he deals with them in another writing entitled Advice

Figure 2: Silent recitation (dhikr-i khufi), Turkestan, 1860–70s (Turkestanskii

Al’bom. Part 2, vol. 1, pl. 65, no. 183) ©Library of Congress, 2012.

31
Alexandre Papas

4. On this mirror for to Sultans (tanbı-h al-sala-tı-n),4 which is addressed to ‘Ubayd Alla-h Kha-n, the
princes, see Papas ruler mentioned at the beginning of the treatise.
(2012).
To sum up, the point here is not so much the choice between sound
and silence, between jahrı- and khuf -ı , although the latter is preferable to the
former, but the choice of the appropriate technique for a particular Sufi adept
within the same community. According to his abilities and along his spiritual
progress, the Sufi may use different types of recitation, reflecting variety as
well as hierarchy in Sufi circles. As a result, the choice between sound and
silence is made with regard to the possibilities of teaching and the divulging
or the concealment of Sufi mystical experiences. We will see that the treatise
devoted to audition emphasizes the same point.

Treatise on audition
The Risa-la-yi sama-’iyya or Risa-la dar sama-’ is longer than the Treatise on
Recitation and runs from fol. 10a to 24a. Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- explains that the
reason for writing this text is that the current scholars (‘ulama-) who are not
members of the Naqshbandiyya, who never met this group and never shared
a suhbat with them, are opposed to the Naqshbandı-s and their spiritual states
and practices (fol. 10a).
Here the author tells an anecdote (fol. 10b–11a): one day, in the suhbat of
the master Junayd (d. 910), there were about 400 people and each one talked
about the Sufi community and the evidences of its spiritual accomplishment.
Suddenly, a deluded dervish (maghru-r-i muraqqa‘ pu-shı-) got up and said, ‘What
you’re saying is just imagination and supposition, the only evidence is to see
God with the eyes!’ Junayd knew that this man was deluded and a fornica-
tor (muhdith). He called the dervish and explained to him, based on a hadith,
that he was like those men who thought they were seeing God on his throne,
when it was actually the devil, and they worshipped him as God. The dervish
repented. Ka-sa-nı- draws from the story that, left in error, people like that dervish
never experience spiritual realization; many students (ta-liba-n) are thus pulled
away from the path of Truth while other students are reinforced in knowledge.
To those who are perplexed, the path will be closed. Quite provocatively, the
shaykh equates the scholars to students, even to ignorant dervishes, insofar
as they ignore or do not understand the Naqshbandı- Sufi path. ‘This is why I,
Ahmad Ka-sa-nı-, want to embrace the dust of the lodge of this Sufi group and
hope that, after reading this treatise they will not oppose that group and will
even benefit from it’. The purpose is clearly partisan and targeted at all those,
especially the ‘ulama-, who criticize the Naqshbandiyya. We will see shortly
that a major subject of criticism is the practice of audition (sama-’).
Before introducing his real, primary topic, the author sets the terms of the
debate (fol. 11a–12a): The Naqshbandiyya is presented as virtuous, conform-
ing to the law (sharı-‘a), and far from any deviations. His way (rawish) is pure
and concealed from the strangers’ view; it follows the Prophet’s model, which
was transmitted to his companion Abu- Bakr, and then to the Naqshbandı-s.
This is again a reference to the silsila, the chain of transmission from master
to master. The Sufi path is composed of two sides, the outer (sulu-k-i za-hir) and
the inner (sulu-k-i ba-tin). The first is the conformity to the law, the opposition
to the concupiscent ego (nafs) and the language cleared of doubt. The second
is the spiritual ideal (himmat) by which the heart is cleansed of all dependen-
cies, the vices removed from the body, the ablutions esoteric, and the heart
able to perform the dhikr. Moreover, in the vivification of the path (ihya--yi

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 Creating a Sufi soundscape

Figure 3: Sama’ session (Iranian miniature 1552, MS W.629, fol. 95b) © Walters

Art Museum, 2011.

tarı-qa), companions and disciples never lose a single minute; all these follow-
ers of the path obey the saints of God to learn the spiritual stages until the
firm realization of himmat. Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- concludes, ‘The more the love for
this path enters the heart of the Sufi, the more God is present in his heart. I
assert that each great master of this lineage has reached the goal and all those
who oppose them oppose the Prophet since the way of these masters is the
way of the Prophet in that they apply sharı-‘a and Sunna’. The issue at stake
here is the legitimacy, if not the legality, of the Naqshbandiyya.

What is sama-’?
The Treatise on Audition gets to the heart of the matter when the author
declares that ‘certain people of our group chose the sama-’ and have exposed

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Alexandre Papas

the advantages of this technique’. Among all its advantages, two deserve
particular attention (fol. 12b): one is that companions practising Sufism are
sometimes so preoccupied with the multitude of activities that they get tired
(kala-l wa mala-l) in body and mind. Contraction and distension (qabzı- wa bastı-)
cause languidness in actions and the deficiency of states. Recent masters,
because of the problems caused by this kind of accident, encouraged listening
to sweet voices, harmonious lyrics and exciting poetry since they can inflame
mystical desire and remove lassitude. The rest of the time, Sufis can return to
their occupations. The second advantage is for the disciples who are stuck in
the middle of their spiritual progress because of the power of ego and all the
veils covering God’s presence. Listening to sweet voices, harmonious lyrics
and exciting poetry can produce the hidden qualities that put mystical love
in motion. Thanks to this, the soul is opened to listening and remembers the
pleasure of primordial words. The fire of mystical love being lighted, the bird
of the soul can fly. In an instant, the disciple mounts several steps in spiritual
progress that, without sama-’, could not be crossed in several years.
To the rhetorical question ‘what is sama-’?’Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- replies, ‘sama-’ is
to listen to fine voices (a-wa-zha--yi khu-sh)’. Then the question is ‘what is a fine
voice?’, to which the answer is, ‘God has created the souls and told them the
covenant, and the delight of this voice remained in men’s ears’. However, this
is only the short answer, which requires a much longer explanation referring
to theology that can be paraphrased as follows (fol. 13a–14b):

God created souls to inhabit the world. Because souls do not have the
ability to cultivate the world, within forty days God gave strength to the
body of Adam, and arranged in him the instruments of cultivating. Then
He sent Adam to the world. Since it was impossible for one man to do
that, he created Eve from the left rib of Adam, and assembled them to
give birth to men. After creating their souls, God created their bodies.
Then occurred the covenant through which men pledged allegiance
to God. Then He sent prophets to teach to men commandments and
prohibitions. The teaching of the prophets is expressed by each prophet
in the language of his own people. The commandments taught by
Prophet Muhammad, which are based on sharı-‘a, are the right way and
the divine way to paradise, whereas the prohibitions are the evil way to
hell. Alas, men forgot their Creator and the oath (‘ahd) given to Him on
the day of covenant. Despite all the efforts of the prophets, few people
respected the covenant, most people were only occupied by worldly
affairs and they deviated from the path and lost themselves. The few
who were well-guided and obeyed the prophets were granted blessings.
After the prophets, the saints of God appeared. Those who obeyed the
saints have been freed from deviation and destruction, and got benefits
too. After Prophet Muhammad, his Companions and the saints contin-
ued to defend sharı-‘a and the way (tarı-qa) of the Prophet, and they were
attentive to innovations and deviations. After that, differences occurred
among the followers, ‘ulama- such as Ima-m Abu- Hanı-fa and Ima-m Sha-fi‘ı-
acted according to period and people. Thus, they introduced differences.
After that, the masters of Sufi tarı-qas also introduced differences accord-
ing to period and people. The first master who introduced a difference in
tarı-qas was Junayd. For him, people of his time were not able to follow
the Sufi path, so he considered that what could satisfy the disciples and
would be suitable for their spiritual condition was, precisely, sama-’.

34
 Creating a Sufi soundscape

According to Ahmad Ka-sa-nı-, men having forgotten the covenant, Sufis like
Junayd decided to remind them of God’s voice by making them listen to the
voices of the ‘men of God’ (ahl-i alla-h). Such is the theological background
of sama-’ and this is an important reason for accepting this technique. The
Naqshbandı-s are also aware that, in a time of darkness, it is not possible to
reject a practice such as sama-’ since listening to fine voices is listening to the
sounds of Truth (mukha-taba-t-i haqq).
The author makes a detailed description of this experience (fol. 14b–15a):
for the mystics, when their heart is purified of all concerns and is open, if they
listen to fine voices, they hear them everywhere. In sama-’ the Sufi is deprived
of power and is perturbed; he may scream as he feels as if he is hearing the
covenant, and the voice of the singer permeates the Sufi’s soul. In the end, the
sound fills up the soul and the listener does not even hear it. When his soul
starts to take off, the cage of existence is closed; so he yells and cries; he wants
to return to his origin but cannot. Several times, as a matter of prudence and
wisdom, God has to close the cage of body. The Sufi is like the child who has
been separated from his mother. Whenever he hears the voice of his mother
he is desperate since he cannot join her; then he cries until he joins her again.
Sometimes his mother pities and helps him to join her. Similarly, God is a
thousand times more full of pity than any mother, and can help the Sufi.

What happened to sama-’?

To provide more legitimacy to his position, Ka-sa-nı- (fol. 15a–b) mentions
several great masters and their passion for sama-’. Thus, we learn that Junayd
admitted certain musical instruments (sa-z) – unfortunately, the text does not
say which ones – within his circle. The members of the circle used to discuss
the mode (wajh) of the instruments and many of them benefitted from these
sessions. One of the disciples even went as far as Ferghana to bring back a
female musician or singer (kanı-zak-i mughanniyya) to Baghdad. The same
Junayd also claimed that sama-’ is listening to nothing but God and experienc-
ing nothing but ecstasy, just as eating food is practising nothing but poverty,
and collecting knowledge is remembering only the qualities of saints. Other
references include Junayd’s disciple Abu- Bakr Shiblı- (d. 946), who one day
during a sama-’ suddenly screamed, and the Khurasani shaykh Abu- al-Qa-sim
Nasra-ba-dı- (d. 978), who said that performing sama-’ is better than being in
an assembly, hearing talk and exchanging gossip! All these examples serve
to show that audition was an accepted and legitimate practice among Sufis.
They knew, the author writes, that humanity’s destiny is the love of God, and
that men’s hearts are like flints for fire, which have to be struck by fine sounds
(alha-n-i tı-bat) since these fine sounds are the sounds of Truth. Whenever the
words of God reach the heart, the fire of mystical love enflames the heart.
Therefore, the purpose of all devotion is love and there is no better devotion
than those produced by fine sounds.
After the great masters, we read, when these first generations of Sufis
declined, men became corrupt and fell into vice and immorality. They tainted
the tarı-qa, negated the law, introduced unlawfulness in the community and no
longer understood sama-’. The advantages of this technique have been misun-
derstood and it has progressively deviated from its proper purpose. For exam-
ple, the Naqshbandı- shaykh Kha-wand Tahu-r (d. 1455) said that sama-’ is the
wine of love and the speech of friendship. Yet, for those who, during audition
sessions, are moved by the beauty of the others, audition should be forbidden.

35
Alexandre Papas

Nevertheless, the Naqshbandı- masters continued to defend and promote

sama-’, notably for the beginners (mubtadiya-n), who could then ‘conduct them-
selves out of the prison of the self to the garden of the non-self’ (fol. 16a).
The masters still considered this practice legal and fruitful (fol. 16b–17a):
God saw that men had lost their way and fallen into depravity; therefore, He
sent the Prophet to bring sharı-‘a among men and explain commandments
and prohibitions. Then men knew that that which would bring them closer
to God was legal, and that which would drive them away from God was ille-
gal. Sama-’ is something that brings them closer to God, according to great
masters such as Junayd, Mawla-na- Ru-mı- (d. 1273) and many others, including
the Naqshbandı-s, who chose it and practised it a lot.
Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- adds that perhaps most of the Naqshbandı-s have attained
bliss felicity by this route since the way of rapprochement is pain and passion
(dard wa sa-z) – a result of sama-’ – not knowledge and abstinence (‘ilm wa zuhd).
If this reconciliation was accessible only by knowledge, no ‘ulama- would have
needed to follow the Naqshbandiyya path. In fact, most of the great ‘ulama-
who have been guided and have attained bliss needed this path, such as Baha-’
al-Dı-n Naqshband, Khwa-ja Muhammad Pa-rsa- (d. 1420), Khwa-ja ‘Ubayd Alla-h
Ahra-r (d. 1490) and his disciple Mawla-na-za-da Otra-rı-. Again, this does not mean
that the Naqshbandiyya defends excessive and unlawful practices (fol. 17b): to
believe in this path is similar to rejecting all sins; it is to know what is unlawful,
and to act in accordance with law. Baha-’ al-Dı-n Naqshband has been asked,
‘How do the Naqshbandı-s achieve bliss?’ He answered, ‘Because they act
according to sharı-‘a. If, for any reason, whether involuntarily or not, they do
something unlawful or forget one of the rules of the Naqshbandiyya, they fall
from their spiritual stages like one who falls from heaven down to earth, and the
divine grace is closed to them’. A story illustrates this: it happened that one of
the great masters of this group opposed the law involuntarily and one of his disci-
ples understood this. The master expected that the disciple would lose his trust.
Time passed and no doubt showed up. So the master called the disciple and told
him, ‘O brother, the arrow of judgment drilled my chest, you understood this but
no deviation (nuqsa-n) appeared in your faith, what happened to you?’ The disci-
ple answered, ‘I trust the master, he is like the prophets who are innocent and
the saints who are blessed, so what should I have done?’ The master concluded,
‘Know that if any master does something illegal or unruly (bı- adabı-) and the road
to divine grace does not seem to be closed to him, in the language of this group
this is called a ruse (makr) [i.e. a divine ruse to test the master]’.

Screaming, crying, not playing

Lawfulness and legitimacy do not mean that the practice of audition should
be performed with sobriety and a faint heart. On the other hand, the passion
of sama-’ should not lead to misconduct and obscenity. One major though
controversial effect of audition is weeping (fol.  18a). Quoting the famous
mystic Dhu- al-Nu-n al-Misrı- (d. 850), Ka-sa-nı- suggests that lamenting (buka-) is
something that is not always sadness but, on the contrary, joyfulness (fara-h).
The cause of lamenting can either be fear, ecstasy or desire – that is to say,
various experiences. So, if an opponent to sama-’ denies the benefits of this
Sufi practice because it produces sadness, we should remind him that, yes,
to repulse sadness is perfectly natural, but this does not call into question
sama-’ itself. If we compare with the case of prayers, we see that some prayers
cause joy whereas others cause pain. Is this a reason to neglect or abandon

36
 Creating a Sufi soundscape

the practice of prayer? The author gives several examples of Naqshbandı-

sama-’ sessions where screams, tears and emotion were abundant (fol. 18a–b).
One of the children of Khwa-ja ‘Ubayd Alla-h Ahra-r was fascinated and deeply
troubled by the way Darwı-sh Ahmad played the zither (qa-nu-n). In the circle
of Ahra-r, several Quran singers (ha-fiz) were very fine singers who could
also chant the mystical poetry of, among others, Amı-r Qa-sim-i Anwar (d.
1433), a poet from Tabriz who lived in Khurasan. One of these singers was
Ha-fiz Kuchak who had the reputation of being able to provoke streams of
tears among the assembly, who repeatedly asked him to sing. Documented
or inspired by hadiths, the Prophet himself appears as a model of emotional
mystic: Muhammad was with his companions when one of them pronounced
some verses; immediately the Prophet fell into ecstasy, his mantle fell down
from his shoulders and he tore it into pieces and gave them to his compan-
ions, who sewed the holy pieces onto their own garments. The Sufis do the
same in sama-’ when they are in mutual ecstasy.
The Risa-la-yi sama-’iyya includes explanations of the anthropological back-
ground of these effects of audition (fol. 19a): man is composed of spirituality

Figure 4: Sama’ session (Iranian miniature 1512, MS W.628, fol. 49b) © Walters

Art Museum, 2011.

37
Alexandre Papas

(ru-ha-niyat) and sensuality (nafsa-niyat). Everyone who is victorious in one of

these two tendencies follows this one. If spirituality is predominant, someone
who listens to fine voices will be brought to God and will progress in the prox-
imity with God since the ear of his heart is opened (sam‘-i dilash kusha-da ast).
Whenever he hears the voice of the beloved of Truth, a tumult occurs in his
soul (shurishı- dar ja-nash payda- mı-shawad). Since he always drinks the wine
of love from the cup of love, he starts to be drunk and furious (‘arbada); he
becomes madder and screams. Since the lover does not understand his suffer-
ings, he necessarily blames and reproaches. On the contrary, the careless ones
(gha-fila-n) are oriented towards negligence; their hearts are black and hard,
and fine sounds make no impression on them. They are inferior to animals
because when animals hear a beautiful voice they are impressed and sponta-
neously make movements. Lastly, when sensuality is pre-eminent, if someone
listens to fine voices, he is inclined towards fornication (zina-) and obscenity
(fisq). In other words, the practice of sama-’ itself is neither the cause nor the
problem; the real stake is the nature of the individuals.
The problem – recalls Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- – could also be the nature of the
individual Sufi in his relationship with the Naqshbandiyya ‘school’ (fol. 19b).
Mystics (fuqara-) themselves are not free of three serious faults that usually
affect the jurists (fuqaha-): weakness of trust in this school, doubt concerning
the existence of this school at this time, and general malice. The nature of the
individual is eventually linked to the nature of the heart and what sama-’ reveals
of this nature, as elucidated by Abu- Ha-mid Ghaza-lı- (d. 1111), the authorita-
tive theologian and mystic (fol. 20a–b). God is a secret concealed in the heart
of men and manifests itself like a fire in iron. Men do not know it but their
heart is oriented towards the upper world (‘a-lam-i ‘ulwı-), which is the world
of beauty. Listening to a fine and melodious voice makes the heart pulsate
(jumba-nı-dan) and something appears in the listener that he cannot control.
In his body occurs a movement and appears an emotion that is difficult to
identify. Before this experience, the heart was empty, or not ‘conscious’ of its
capacity for emotion and love. Once the heart is no longer empty, movement
occurs like fire, which is further inflamed by breath. For all those whose heart
is burning with the fire of love for God, sama-’ is so great that the fire whirls
round and consumes. On the contrary, for all those whose heart is deprived of
God’s presence, sama-’ is a mortal poison and should be forbidden. However,
to condemn spiritual audition as something forbidden (hara-m) in general is
the wrong attitude; it is the perspective of ‘exotericist’ scholars who ignore
the ‘esoteric’ teachings of Sufism – in particular, the idea that the heart has
been given the capacity for mystical love by God. One should not consider
sama-’ performances as playing (ba-zı-), and reduce them to pleasure. This way
of thinking betrays the rejection of the loving capacity of the heart, which is
the ‘organ’ par excellence of sama-’, as it is for all Sufi exercises, one may add.
For sure, sama-’ does not add anything that is not already present in the heart,
but as explained before it causes what is already in the heart to pulsate.

Opening up the Sufi soundscape

By the end of his treatise, the shaykh returns to the initial issue of the hostility
of the ‘ulama- towards the Naqshbandiyya and replaces it in the general discus-
sion of the spiritual decadence of humanity and the forgetting of destiny (fol.
21a–b). Once again, the text recalls that God sent men to inhabit and cultivate
the world, but they were so much occupied to work, produce and build that

38
 Creating a Sufi soundscape

they forgot their own destiny, which consists of returning to their Creator.
Anyone who undertakes his human destiny must find again the way towards
God. Different creatures take numerous ways, and the ways are numerous
and very different. The creatures lost their destiny because they had no guide.
Worse, we read, evil intervened and saw that they had become vagrants (sar
garda-n) in the world; so evil put them on his own way. God saw that his
servants were led by evil. Therefore, at each period He sent a Prophet at the
head of this people so that they could reject the evil path and take the road
of piety. The Prophet would have said, ‘Law (sharı-‘a) is my words (gufta-rha-),
path (tarı-qa) is my acts (kirda-rha-), Truth (haqı-qa) is my states (ha-lha-)’. Know,
dervishes – comments Ka-sa-nı- – that by saying that ‘sharı-‘a is my word’, the
Prophet gave commandments and prohibitions, and the profits of law are so
numerous that they can liberate men from the evil influence and put them
back on the way of piety. The Prophet also taught that, in this time, the world
is full of infidels. These people fight so much against faith that they can set
the community of believers on the path of evil. Ka-sa-nı- adds that as long as
Muhammad was alive, he could struggle against infidelity and show the right
way. The situation of Muslims changed considerably after that, and pious
figures had to ceaselessly remind people of the Prophet’s teachings. Contrary
to what one may think, the knowledge of the ‘exotericist’ ‘ulama- is not suffi-
cient to divert man from the path of evil and to show the right way. ‘What do
these people know of the path, the walker, the traveler and the landmarks,
since they stayed at the beginning of the path?’ What sounds like knowledge
to scholars is actually ignorance to mystics.
In contrast, according to Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- (fol. 22a), whoever is linked to
the Sufi path uses knowledge. Moreover, each one accomplishes the spirit-
ual way with a particular kind of knowledge (bi ‘ilmı--yi makhsu-s). This can be
vocal recitation (dhikr-i jahr) or silent recitation (dhikr-i khufiyya), concentra-
tion (tawajjuh), contemplation (mura-qaba), service to others (khidhmat), ecstasy
(jadhba), connection between the master and the disciple (ra-bita), listening
to fine sounds (shinı-dan-i alha-n-i tı-bat), and discussion (suhbat). All these are
practical forms of knowledge. In this important paragraph, the Naqshbandı-
master clearly manifests his tolerance towards the various paths the disciples
may follow according to their capacities, personality and spiritual progression.
While the routes and methods are plural, the destination is the same. All
tarı-qas have only one purpose, one result – namely, the Truth (haqı-qa) (fol.
22a–b). Returning to the aforementioned reference to the Prophet, the author
explains that He divulged the law, which is a series of rules for all believers,
including Sufis. He also disclosed the path, which is a model of conduct of
believers, including Sufis who are able to interpret the mystical dimension
of this conduct. Alas, He did not expose the Truth. Allegedly, Muhammad
himself said that his mission was universal, and certainly not limited to a few,
yet only eighteen individuals (hijda kas) would be able to know his secrets and
the truth of his mission. He said also that at that time it was not possible to
reveal secrets to all people because it was only the beginning of Islam. This is
why God appointed eighteen people to reveal the Truth. Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- does
not give their names but writes that, at each period, each one of the eighteen
chosen persons, with his particular aptitude, told these secrets to the students
of the Sufi path, suggesting that the eighteen individuals are Sufi masters.
Know, disciples, we read, that the aim of sharı-‘a is to know the right path,
the aim of tarı-qa is to practise and follow the path, and the aim of haqı-qa is
the result, the end of the path. Thanks to knowledge, each time and place the

39
Alexandre Papas

wayfarer goes, he will take the right path, and acting properly he will make
progress.
Experiencing haqı-qa is experiencing mystical love and ecstasy (wajd) (fol. 23a).
Inspired by Mawla-na- Ru-mı-, Ka-sa-nı- describes the experience: each drop of the
wine of love affecting his soul, the mystic obtains spiritual states marked by
drunkenness and he is like conquered, submerged. Falling as if unconscious, he
screams, sometimes he cries; he may even reveal divine secrets since he is now
conquered by God. The more he progresses on the mystical path, the more drops
of the wine of love affect his soul – this to such an extent that the wine floods his
heart and burns it. Submerged by God’s presence, nothing of the human way
of being remains in him. This is the degree of love. The end of the path to God
is here. Then starts the infinite way into God. This description echoes the states
described in the Treatise on Recitation and confirms that Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- and his
followers firmly defended both oral and silent recitation as well as audition.
Reading these two writings, we realize that they respond to each other,
opening up a discursive soundscape: the Risa-la-yi dhikr sets the conditions of
possibility of the call to God while the Risa-la-yi sama-’iyya lays the foundations
for listening to God’s response.

Conclusion
To conclude, I will briefly introduce two perspectives, one diachronic and the
other synchronic, on the legacy of the Sufi soundscape according to Ahmad
Ka-sa-nı-. The Makhdu-mza-das definitively lost their power in Eastern Turkestan
during the nineteenth century (Papas 2005: 221–29). Although their decline
obviously did not mean the end of Sufism in the region where Naqshbandı-,
Qa-dirı-, Chishtı-, Qalandarı- and non-affiliated dervishes were still very active,
it is clear that, in terms of Sufi sound culture, several ruptures occurred. They
were caused by, successively, the Qing reconquest in the late nineteenth
century, the Muslim reformist struggle against devotional Islam in the early
twentieth century, and of course the secularization and industrialization of
Xinjiang from the mid-twentieth century onwards. What happened to sound
practices among Sufis in Xinjiang? The influential composer and founder
of sound studies, Murray Schafer, described the radical shift from the hi-fi
rural soundscape, ‘in which discrete sounds can be heard clearly because of
the low ambient noise level’, to the lo-fi industrial soundscape, ‘where is so
much acoustic information that little of it can emerge with clarity’ (1977: 43,
71). The historian, Alain Corbin, has shown through the emblematic case of
bells in nineteenth-century France, which did not disappear but continued to
produce the sounds of a lost world, that these sounds bear witness to other
kinds of relationships, between the sacred and the mundane, and time and
space, ‘témoignaient d’un autre rapport au monde et au sacré, d’une autre
manière de s’inscrire dans le temps et dans l’espace, et aussi de les éprouver’
(Corbin 1994: 13).
In contemporary Xinjiang, Sufi repetitions of sacred words, religious chant-
ing and musical performances as well as ritual dances have suffered from the
turmoil of China’s political history and have been severely reduced in both
quantity and sophistication. The mystical conceptions at the origin of this now
discrete, if not taciturn, soundscape, like the ones Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- discussed
in his treatises, are now forgotten or no longer understood by many (though
not all) Sufi masters and disciples. Nevertheless, all these activities still exist
today, as I have personally witnessed during several fieldwork trips, and as a

40
 Creating a Sufi soundscape

few scholars have described (Zarcone 2004; Harris 2013; cf. De Zorzi 2013). 5. See also Hirschkind’s
detailed analysis
Oral teachings and written manuals are still circulating, although with great concerning the ‘ethics
difficulty. Ironically, it is possible that the continuous repression of Sufi prac- of listening’ to Quranic
tices in Xinjiang may settle the disagreement between oral and silent dhikr, recitation and sermons
(Hirschkind 2006:
since the latter seems better adapted than the former to the contemporary 70–88).
necessities of discretion, privacy and interiority.
In the wider sphere of Sufi studies, Ahmad Ka-sa-nı-’s treatises on recita-
tion and audition offer little original content as they are inspired by previous
Sufi and Naqshbandı- literature on the topic. From a synchronic viewpoint,
however, these texts have several qualities that might help the historian
conceptualize the modus operandi of a Sufi soundscape. Technical, concrete,
didactic and encompassing, the risa-las shed light on two important aspects of
the sounded culture of Muslim mystics: the body and the community. If ‘the
body [i.e. heart, breath, footsteps, etc.] also gives us modules for comprehend-
ing the acoustic rhythms of the environment’ (Schafer 1977: 226), then what
our author tells about the representation of the heart, techniques of breath
control and body movements, whether external or internal, is of great interest
for any analysis of the Sufi soundscape.5 Dhikr and sama-’ profoundly modify
the entire acoustic environment of the disciple not only during the exercises
but also in his everyday life, through ritual after ritual, stage after stage. In
parallel with research done on the initiatory travels of wandering dervishes
and their experience of space (see the case of the Sufi vagabond Zalı-lı-, studied
in Papas 2010b: 137–209), it would be interesting to reconstitute the auditory
biography of sama-’ practitioners.
A telling example of Makhdu-mza-da’s communal legacy is the Sufi
wanderer Ba-ba-rahı-m Mashrab (1640–1711; for a detailed study of this
figure, see Papas 2010b: 31–136). He was not a contemporary of Ahmad
Ka-sa-nı- but he praised the Central Asian master and was a follower of the
-
above-mentioned Makhdu-mza-da shaykh Afa-q Khwa-ja. A poet and a bard,
Mashrab not only practised and promoted spiritual recitation and audition
but also became himself an icon of popular culture. His poetry features heav-
ily in the contemporary Twelve Muqam repertoire. A fictionalized biography
was published quite recently (Rozi 2003) and numerous Uyghur publications
have existed since 1981 (listed in Sartekin 2004: 732–33). Whether in oral
traditions, written literature or ritual chanting, the dervish known as Mäshräp
in the Uyghur language may be seen to embody the Sufi musical culture of
contemporary Xinjiang.
The second aspect concerns the community. Again, we can cite Alain
Corbin (1994: 98) arguing that French village bells served as sonic markers
of territorial identity: ‘le son de la cloche et l’émotion qu’il suscite aident à
la construction de l’identité territoriale des individus qui l’attendent puis le
perçoivent […] le clocher impose un espace sonore qui correspond à une
certaine conception de la territorialité, obsédée par l’interconnaissance’. The
anthropologist Andrew Eisenberg has more recently developed similar argu-
ments about the role of the minaret and call to prayer in Islamic cultures
(Eisenberg 2013). We may also apply these arguments to dhikr and sama-’
when they are collectively and openly performed. Both of these sounded prac-
tices provide references and landmarks, not only to the Sufi circles but also to
the community attached to the circles – the occasional followers, the family
members, the village, the neighbourhood, etc. Especially, although not exclu-
sively, within the rural context, such Sufi rituals give voice and flesh to feel-
ings of community, to the sense of belonging to a shared destiny.

41
Alexandre Papas

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Suggested citation
Papas, A. (2014), ‘Creating a Sufi soundscape: Recitation (dhikr) and audition
(sama-’) according to Ahmad Ka-sa-nı- Dahbı-dı- (d. 1542)’, Performing Islam
3: 1+2, pp. 25–43, doi: 10.1386/pi.3.1-2.25_1

Contributor details
Alexandre Papas is a research fellow at Centre National de la Recherche
Scientifique (Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique), Paris. Papas is a
historian of Islam and Central Asia. His work deals mainly with Sufism, saint
veneration and politico-religious issues in Central Asia and the neighbouring
areas (western China, eastern Tibet and northern India) from the sixteenth
century to the present. He graduated in philosophy from Sorbonne University,
and holds diplomas in Persian, Turkish and Mongolian from the Institute of
Oriental Languages & Civilisations, and a Ph.D. in history from the Ecole
des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales. His main publications include the
following: Soufisme et politique entre Chine, Tibet et Turkestan (J. Maisonneuve,
2005); Mystiques et vagabonds en islam (Cerf, 2010); Voyage au Pays des Salars
(Cartouche, 2011); co-ed., Central Asian Pilgrims (Klaus Schwarz, 2011);
co-ed., L’autorité religieuse et ses limites en terres d’islam (Brill, 2013); co-ed.,
Family Portraits with Saints (Klaus Schwarz, 2013).
Contact: CNRS, Centre d’études turques, ottomanes, balkaniques etcentrasia-
tiques, 190–198 avenue de France, 75244 Paris cedex 13, France.
E-mail: papas.5@orange.fr

Alexandre Papas has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and
Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work in the format that
was submitted to Intellect Ltd.

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