Maisonneuve & Larose

Charity and Deceit: The Practice of the iṭ'ām al-ṭa'ām in Moroccan SufismAuthor(s): Francisco Rodriguez-MañasSource: Studia Islamica, No. 91 (2000), pp. 59-90Published by: Maisonneuve & LaroseStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1596269 .Accessed: 15/04/2011 18:51

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Studia Islamica, 2000

Charity and Deceit : the Practice of the it'gm al-ta'am in Moroccan Sufism*

In Morocco, Sufi lodges (zdwiyas) provided numerous services for neigh- bouring communities. In times of political turmoil, for instance, they served as communal granaries; peasants often left their crops in nearby lodges for safekeeping, to prevent their seizure by marauding nomads or looters. They also offered sanctuary (hurma) to outlaws, mostly petty criminals, but often also sturdy opponents of the ruling dynasty, such as outspoken religious reformers or ousted officials likely to stir up trouble. The authorities, doubt- less unwittingly, helped to turn Sufi lodges into hotbeds of political agita- tion. By granting some of them immunity status and fiscal exemptions, ini- tiatives that could be misconstrued as a relinquishment of state jurisdiction over the latter, they encouraged seditious elements of every hue to seek refuge in zawiyas when official harassment became unbearable, aware that government troops could not trespass on certain lodges' boundaries (1). When feuds between rival tribes or family clans occurred over, for instance, water or property rights, chiefs of Sufi lodges were often asked to arbitrate between 'litigants' in an attempt to ease tension and prevent disputes from degenerating into bloody vendettas. As the authority of Sufi shaykhs was charismatic, that is it transcended tribal allegiances ('asabiyya), the former were thought to be impervious to influence and bribery and their pronoun- cements regarded as equitable and, therefore, dutifully heeded in most occa- sions (2). Leaders of zawiyas, likewise, frequently acted as spokesmen for those communities under their 'protection' mediating, for instance, between local peasants and government officials when conflicts, mostly involving fiscal matters, arose. Thus, when attempts by fiscal agents to levy onerous taxes and/or impose harsh penalties on defaulting tax-payers sparked off dis-

* This paper was sead at the Seminar < Political action, language and religion > funded by the European Science Foundation within the frame of the Program < Individual and Society in the Mediterranean Muslim World >>, team 6 : Religious activity and experience (teamleader : M. Garcia-Avenal).

(1) Ibn 'Askar, Dawhat al-nashir li-mahdsin man kdna bi-l-Maghrib min mashd'ikh al-qar al-'dshir, ed. M. Hajji, Rabat, 1977, 78 (French trans. by A. Graulle, Archives Marocaines, 19 (1913), 137).

(2) Ibn Tijlit, Ithmid al- 'aynayn wa-nuzhat al-nairinfi mandqib al-akhawayn, ms. 935 dal, Bibliothbque Generale (Rabat) (part. ed. in al-'Abbas b. Ibrihim, Al-I'ldm bi-man halla Marrakush wa-Aghmat min al- a'lam, ed. 'A. al-Wahhab b. Mansur, Rabat, 1973-83, 10 vols., 4:253-81).

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content in nearby villages, Sufi shaykhs often felt compelled to intervene and intercede on behalf of their clients to avert riots (3). Lodges were, fur- thermore, philanthropic institutions; they helped to mitigate the hardship that afflicted tribesmen living in surrounding areas periodically. In times of scarcity, for instance, prosperous zawiyas set up poor relief schemes and dis- pensed stocks of food, originally earmarked for sale or stored up to prevent shortages among their residents, to famished peasants.

Relief programmes were not only set in motion in response to particularly adverse circumstances; more often than not they were a regular feature of lodges' charitable policies. Wealthy zawiyas, such as Tit-n-fitr in the thir- teenth century and Dila' in the first half of the seventeenth century, were renowned for their munificence and their endeavours to improve the living conditions of client tribes. Abu Ibrahim Ishaq b. 'All b. Amghar, leader of the ribdt of Tit-n-fitr in the last quarter of the thirteenth century, established a charitable trust (hubs), consisting of about thirty plots, among vineyards and rye fields, out of his large estates. The profits generated by the sale of the produce harvested in those fields were either used to fund agricultural improvements (sinking wells, levelling off rugged lands in order to make them suitable for cultivation, building of bridges and irrigation channels) or allocated to charity (4). Similarly, Abu Bakr b. Muhammad al-Majati (d. 1021/1612), founder of the zawiya of Dila', devoted part of his hefty income to buy properties in adjacent districts to turn them later into religious endow- ments (ahbas) whose main beneficiaries were "impecunious scholars and promising students in need of sponsorship, the infirm and the poor" (5).

Supplying meals and temporary accommodation (it' m al-ta'dm) to clients - who called on them to entreat for help or, simply, to 'pay homage' -, distressed travellers, pilgrims and beggars was, perhaps, the most conspi- cuous 'service' rendered by zawiyas. It was, after all, a form of assistance that stemmed from a function typical of these institutions, namely the pro- vision of hospitality (diydfa). Among Muslims, lavishing attention on one's guests is not a discretionary option, nor merely a matter of common cour- tesy. It is akin, on the contrary, to a religious injunction. The Prophet Muhammad appears in many a tradition (hadith) urging the faithful to be generous and hospitable to their guests, lest they want to attract God's wrath and jeopardise their chances of salvation. In this line, offering hospitality to

(3) See our article "Hombres santos y recaudadores de impuestos en el Occidente musulman (ss. 6-8/12- 14)", Al-Qantara, 12.2 (1991), 471-96.

(4) Ibn 'Abd al-'Azim al-Zammuri, Bahjat al-nazirin wa-uns al-hadirin wa-wasilat rabb al-'alamin fi mandqib rijdl Amghar al-salihin, ms. 1358, Bibliotheque Royale (Rabat), f. 182; A. Busharb, Dukkala wa-l- isti'mdr al-burtughali ild sanat ikhli' Asfi wa-Azammur, Casablanca, i984, 134. On the ribat of Tit-n-fitr see V.J. Corell, "Ribat Tit-n-fitr and the origins of Moroccan maraboutism", Islamic Studies, 27.1 (1988), 23-36.

(5) Sulayman al-Hawwat, Al-Budur al-ddwiyyafi ta'rif bi-l-sddat ahl al-zawiya al-Dild'iyya [...fi dhikr al-shaykh wa-ashabi-hi wa-talamidhati-hi wa-bind' al-zdwiya], ms. 26 dal, Bibliotheque G6enrale (Rabat), apud M. Hajji, Al-Zawiya al-Dild'iyya wa-dawru-ha al-dim wa-l-'ilmi wa-l-siydsi, Casablanca, 1988 (2"' ed.), 32.

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other fellow Muslims constitutes, in the eyes of believers, an effective means of publicising one's contrition, of atoning for past sins and imploring God's forgiveness (6). In his exhortations to the Islamic umma to be convi- vial and hospitable with guests, however, the Prophet did not single out any specific group as bound, by their more rigorous religious convictions, or more deserving somehow to treat this charitable practice as their moral pre- serve. He enjoined all believers, irrespective of social status and regardless of whether they observed religious tenets with more or less zeal, to attend to their guests earnestly. As soon as Sufi lodges began to spread throughout the Islamic world (the result, apparently, of the proliferation of mystical brothe- rhoods from the early thirteenth century onwards) (7), however, the imple- mentation of the prophetic injunction, when the latter was carried out insti- tutionally, rather than as a private initiative, came to be regarded, if not as the sole responsibility of, at least as a usual task of residents of zaiwiyas and khanqdhs, the western and eastern versions of the Sufi lodge. In Morocco, Sufis seem to have attached enormous importance to this practice, particu- larly to its most 'tangible' manifestation, that is the distribution of meals among visitors (it'am), since at least the second half of the twelfth century, when lodges existed only in an embryonic state. It is not easy to discern why the it'am attained such a paramount place among the social pursuits of Moroccan Sufis. We can surmise, nonetheless, that, for reasons still unk- nown, leaders of zawiyas began to think of the latter's role as soup-kitchens not merely as a fulfilment of their self-assigned charitable mission (a facet of the activity of these institutions much encouraged by early Sufi ideo- logues) (8), alongside other philanthropic activities such as almsgiving, but rather as an integral part of their order's set of rules (tariqa). Often, for ins- tance, diligence while handing out meals to sympathisers and unbounded generosity are qualities that Sufi shaykhs try to instil into their disciples. The ability both to contrive a copious meal for a batch of unexpected visitors and show no qualms about using up one's own resources evinces one's rank in the Sufi spiritual hierarchy. Willingness to practise the it'am whole-hear- tedly, even if this entails putting at risk one's own survival, is regarded as a prerequisite to advance in the mystical quest. Thus, when asked by one of his disciples in the course of a posthumous dream how he had reached such a high level of spiritual perfection, Abu Ya'za Yalannur b. Maymfn (d. 572/1177), a famous Berber saint, replied nonchalantly: "by distributing meals [among those who flocked to see me]" (9). By the second half of the

(6) A.J.Wensinck, Concordance et indices de la tradition musulmane, Leiden, 1955, 3:526f. (7) J. Baldick, Mystical Islam: An Introduction to Sufism, London, 1989, 69 ff.; A. Popovic and G. Vein-

stein (eds.), Les Voies d'Allah. Les ordres mystiques dans le monde musulman des origines a aujourd'hui, Paris, 1996, 55f.

(8) H. Ferhat, "Abu al-'Abbas: contestation et saintete", Al-Qantara, 13.1 (1992), 181-199. (9) Al-Tadili, Al-Tashawwuf ila rijal al-tasawwuf, ed. A. al-Tawfiq, Rabat, 1984, 222; al-Sawma'i, Al-

Mu'zaifi mandqib al-shaykh Abi Ya'za, ms. 517, Bibliotheque Royale (Rabat), f. 80; al-Yusi, Al-Muhddarat, ed. M. Hajji, Rabat, 1976, 132.

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sixteenth century (and, though references to this issue are quite scarce, pos- sibly earlier) the practice of the it'am had become a sine qua non for any Sufi seeker (murid) aspiring to attain higher stages of spiritual development. Performing this 'religious duty' with assiduity was thought to induce mysti- cal experiences that a Sufi devotee could -though not necessarily- otherwise undergo through self-mortification or lengthy periods in retreat (khalwa). Sidi Ahmad u Musa (d. 1015/1606), for instance, urged his disciples to prac- tise the it'am if they wished to attract God's favour and thus experience ecs- tatic states (ahwail) that only He could bring about: "how can I deserve to go through trance-like experiences when my guest comes to see me hungry and leaves my house after some time still with hunger?" (10). For some Sufi shay- khs, however, the it'dm was not merely a religious precept whose obser- vance applied to all adherents of this doctrine, regardless of their 'rank' or whether they were more or less steeped in Sufi ceremonial. Thus, for Abu 'Umar al-Qastalli, a Sufi master renowned for his prodigality, feeding the indigent was a task that God had assigned exclusively to consummate Sufi elders. It was, he claimed, a divine secret (sirr ilahi), revealed only to a handful of practitioners. Shortly before dying al-Qastalli enjoined his dis- ciples to "shut the gate of hospitality" (i.e. not to follow his example) from then onwards as the provision of assistance constituted, he averred, a 'mys- tery' whose secrets could only be unveiled by "that whom God had selec- ted" (1).

Both the function of and attitudes towards the it'dm changed signifi- cantly throughout the centuries. Originally, its commemorative and reli- gious functions overlapped. The earliest examples of distribution of meals among followers of Sufi zawiyas indicate that this practice took place during religious festivities, such as the mawlid and/or the two main feasts in the Muslim calendar (that of the sacrifice/'d al-adhd and the one cele- brated to mark the end of the holy month of ramaddn/'id al-fitr), constitu- ted either the highlight of popular pilgrimages to some lodges, held to com- memorate the anniversary of the death of a saint buried there (mawsim), or the climax of ritual visitations (ziyara) to certain shrines. For the duration of these festivities, 'pilgrims' participated in daily communal meals, prepa- red by the attendants of the lodge and usually served in its courtyard or a purpose-built dining hall, designed, on the one hand, to symbolise the mutuality between Sufi z:dwiyas and neighbouring groups and, on the other, to publicise the former's commitment to safeguard the wellbeing of their 'proteges'. The itf m played, likewise, an important ritual role. The bene- ficial power (baraka) thought to emanate from lodges permeated into adjoi- ning lands through various means. Proximity to a zdtwiya, direct contact

(10) Al-Tamanarti, Al-Fawd'id al-jamma fi isnad 'ulum al-umma, French trans. by Col. Justinard, Chartres, 1953, 92.

(11) Ibn 'Askar, Dawhat al-nashir, in Archives Marocaines, 185.

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with a Sufi saint to whom miraculous powers were attributed (by touching his robe, receiving his blessing, etc.) or with his personal belongings (by getting hold of a lock of his hair, a piece of his cloak or, upon his decease, a rag of his shroud or a scrap of his coffin) and depositing votive offerings on his tomb were considered infallible means to imbibe part of this super- natural 'energy'. Like in other religious traditions, food, especially when it was served by a holy man, was also regarded as a suitable conduit or repo- sitory of divine blessings. Its consumption in places that, according to popular belief, were regarded as sacred -such as lodges- was assumed to have a salutary effect (12). Though the practice of the it'dm always retained part of its symbolic and festive roles in Morocco, the latter were gradually overshadowed by its charitable function. As centuries elapsed, the it'am took on a distinctive philanthropic role. Formerly confined to religious celebrations and aimed at pilgrims and local devotees, it would soon widen its range of application to include a larger number of 'recipients'. Adverse factors, such as natural calamities, intermittent shortages or the unbridled rapacity of marauding nomads often reduced local peasants to destitution. Lodges were swift to help assuage the plight of their clients by adopting dif- ferent poor relief measures. Some of them set up soup-kitchens or emer- gency temporary shelters to assist impoverished peasants. Although these measures were conceived of as merely transitory, soup-kitchens remained an indelible feature of Moroccan lodges, at least from the mid-thirteenth century onwards. Similarly, the lack of or poor quality of state-run inns and caravanserais drove travellers, merchants and pilgrims to Mecca to seek the succour of Sufi zawiyas, institutions where the provision of assistance to the needy had become a customary practice.

Opinions about the it'am, both from Sufi authors and from detractors of this doctrine, varied considerably. They fluctuated between whole-hearted praise and scathing criticism, depending mostly on shifts in the ruling elite's stance on the activity of Sufi brotherhoods. Thus, whereas for about two centuries both Sufi theorists and jurists (fuqaha') seemed to concur on extol- ling the beneficial effects of this practice, from the mid-fifteenth century onwards criticism of the it'dm intensified. A charitable practice, hitherto commended for its important role in mitigating the effects of sporadic famines and in bettering the lot of the poor, began then to attract widespread criticism for several reasons. This article traces the 'history' of the it'am since it is first documented in Morocco (mid-twelfth century) up to the end of the seventeenth century, when opposition to it, or at least to its use by contemporary zdwiyas for political purposes, reached its zenith, with al- Hasan al-Yisi (d. 1102/1691) as its leading exponent.

(12) V. Loubignac, "Un saint berbere: Moulay bou 'Azza. Histoire et Legende", Hesperis, 31 (1944) 15- 34.

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The precursor: Abi Ya'zi

Though his biographers do not state that he founded a zawiya, Abu Ya'za Yalannur's residence in the hamlet of Taghya, a remote village on the foo- thills of the Middle Atlas (in the region known as Jabal Irujjan), is widely regarded as an early prototype of this Sufi institution. Abu Ya'za (d. 572/1177), furthermore, is considered the originator of a series of ritual and social practices that would later become customary in Sufi lodges (3). After spending several years as a peripatetic mystic in Dukkala and the High Atlas, Abu Ya'za settled in Taghya (present day Moulay Bu'azza) and built a house, to which further buildings such as a mosque and, apparently, a 'dor- mitory' for Sufi novices were later added. After gathering around him a number of disciples, his fame as a wonder-maker and miraculous healer began to spread throughout neighbouring regions. Groups of people from as far as the towns of Fez and Miknasa poured into Taghya to visit the shaykh and solicit his blessings before a marriage, before setting off on a hazardous journey or to cure sundry ailments. The incessant stream of visitors who regularly travelled to Taghya turned into large crowds during festive sea- sons, especially on the occasion of religious celebrations (a'yad) (14). 'Pil- grims' (zuwwar) were greeted following a rather elaborate ritual, one that would become entrenched in Moroccan lodges once it was adopted by later shaykhs. Upon their arrival, they kissed Abu Ya'za on his hands and shoul- ders and he, in return, embraced and kissed each one of them on the head (15). Subsequently, they were led to the mosque contiguous to the shay- kh's living quarters or to a meeting hall-cum-refectory, habitually used by novices (murldun) to pray and perform the dhikr. There, Abu Ya'za listened to their requests, comforted them and blessed the assembled before retrea- ting to his private chambers. Visitors then sat in circles and were served a meal, cooked by those disciples in charge of the upkeep of the lodge. Although the type of food served to 'guests' varied, the 'asida (a Berber dish prepared with barley flour and melted fat known as samn) seemed to have been a staple meal (16).

Feeding and lodging (the stay or ziyara lasted, on average, three days) a steady stream of visitors and, during religious festivities, throngs of pil- grims, must have been a heavy financial burden for what still was, at the time, a small devotional centre with limited resources. Though scattered

(13) See A. al-Tawfiq, introd. to al-Tadili's Tashawwuf, and, by the same author, "Al-Ta'rikh wa-adab al-manaqib min khilal manaqib Abi Ya'za", in Al-Ta'rikh wa-adab al-manaqib, Rabat, 1989, 81-92; M. Kably, "Qira'a fi zaman Abi Muhammad Salih", in Abu Muhammad Sdlih: al-manaqib wa-l-ta'rikh, Rabat, 1990, 87-102, p. 96.

(14) Abu I-'Abbas al-'Azafi, Da'gmat al-yaqin fi za'dmat al-muttaqin (Manaqib al-shaykh Abi Ya'za), ed. A. al-Tawfiq, Rabat, 1989, 50.

(15) Al-Tadili, Tashawwuf, 219; al-'Azafi, Da' mat, 46 and al-Sawma'i, Mu'za, 61. (16) Al-'Azafi, Da'amat, 43, 59.

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references suggest that Abfi Ya'za was a small landholder and owned some cattle and a number of plots (mostly horticultural land), it seems unlikely that these humble assets, together with donations (futiuh) from local villagers and pilgrims, would have provided enough revenue so as to pay for the expenses caused by copious meals. To lighten his lodge's financial strain, Abu Ya'za relied on the aid of local peasants. They contributed to the main- tenance of the 'sanctuary' and the services it provided not only through per- iodic payments or offerings, but also through more immediate forms of assistance. Thus, when the number of visitors exceeded the accommodation provisions of the lodge, those unable to find shelter in the latter were lodged in private houses. Peasants also supplied forage to pilgrims' mounts and draught beasts (17).

Chroniclers suggest that local villagers rendered this service out of sheer altruism, simply because they wished to benefit from the baraka with which pilgrims had been 'impregnated' upon their encounter with the holy man. This interpretation fits neatly in with the narrative patterns characteristic of hagiographic literature, aimed at projecting a 'mythical' image of holy men (the so-called 'friends of God' or awliyd') and stressing their harmonious relation with local groups. It is, nonetheless, a fictional explanation suitable, perhaps, for a type of literature designed to edify or enthral a certain audience, but it does not necessarily reflect historical realities. A different explanation, however tentative, can be suggested for the 'co-operation' of local tribesmen with Abu Ya'za in the lodging of pilgrims. All his biogra- phers highlight Abu Ya'za's important role as a referee in local conflicts. He is said to have helped defuse tension in the region by reconciling hostile fac- tions that, prior to his arrival, would have normally settled scores through violence (18). Similarly, he is said to have been instrumental in preserving social concord by helping to restrain quarrelsome elements (miscreants, gos- sip-peddlers and the like), usually through ster public reprimands, or by publicly admonishing social misfits for endangering peace by committing adultery, leading a dissolute life or engaging in activities detrimental to the volatile cohesion of tribal society, such as theft, profiteering or usury (19). Did Abu Ya'za assume the role of 'peacemaker' on his own initiative or was he, perhaps, assigned the function of intermediary at the insistence of his neighbours, unable to find an impartial candidate who had not pledged his loyalty to a particular clan as a result of kinship ties? And, if Abu Ya'za acted by 'delegation', did he perform his duty without receiving any com- pensation in return? Though these questions can not be answered categori- cally, other cases of 'mutuality' between 'rural' shaykhs and neighbouring

(17) Al-Tadili, Tashawwuf, 222; al-Yusi, Al-Muhddarat, ed. M. Hajji, Rabat, 1976, 132. (18) Al-'Azafi, Da'amat, 41. (19) Al-Tadili, Tashawwuf, 215; al-'Azafi, Da'amat, 63; al-Sawma'i, Mu'za, 57; al-'Abbas ibn Ibrahim,

Al-l'dlm bi-man halla Marrakush wa-Aghmdt min al-a'lam, ed.'A. al-Wahhab b. Mansur, Rabat, 1973-83, lOvols., 1:407-8.

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peasants found in the same period (notably among the Banu Amghar, chiefs of Tit-n-fitr) (20) lead us to believe that the social 'arrangement' (or, more bluntly, the 'pact of mutual assistance') contrived between Abu Ya'za and his fellow neighbours represented a rudimentary form of clientage. In fact, the main features of a fully-fledged client-patron relationship are already manifest: acknowledgement of the authority of a paternalistic figure, reci- procity and payment of 'tribute' and/or labour services in exchange for 'pro- tection'. After all, are tilling a lodge's estates for free and helping to feed its devotees out of one's own food stocks not two different modalities of rent- payment?

The ludic aspect of the it'am

The fact that the practice of the it'am was at first inextricably linked to the celebration of certain religious festivals is further corroborated by the example of the rdbita of Hijar al-Sudan, founded by Abu Marwan al- Yuhanisi (d. 667/1269) on the outskirts of Ceuta. The Prophet's birthday (mawlid) was celebrated there with great pomp and solemnity. Preparations for this festivity were so elaborate that those organised for the two canoni- cal Islamic feasts, i.e., the feast of immolation and the one marking the end of the ramadan fast, paled by comparison. On the night of the 12th of rabi al-awwdl al-Yuhanisi gathered with his disciples at the courtyard of the lodge to hold the sama', a ceremony that combined the mechanical-like repetition of religious utterances with frenzied dances in order to induce the mystical trance (sha.th). The people of Ceuta swarmed to the lodge to attend this ceremony and take part in other festivities organised to celebrate the mawlid. Candles were lit throughout the precincts of the rdbita, scented wood burned and rose water sprayed on the guests. The feast reached its cli- max with a communal meal, for which a considerable number of cattle and sheep are said to have been slaughtered. Celebrations continued, albeit with less pageantry, for eight more days. During that time, the lodge functioned as a permanent soup-kitchen, distributing free meals among townspeople and mendicants from outside town (21).

Ruling elites, either imitating Sufi lodges or reproducing an ancient tra- dition of 'royal largesse', also resorted to the it'dm to commemorate offi- cially-sponsored feasts and to mark special events. The mawlid was an aus- picious occasion to show generosity with those they ruled because of the joyful atmosphere, thought to be particularly responsive to ingratiating ges-

(20) Ibn al-'Azim al-Zammun, Bahjat al-nazirin, passim. (21) 'Abd al-Haqq al-Badisi, Al-Maqsad al-sharif wa-l-manza' al-latiffi l-ta'rif bi-sulaha' al-Rif, ed.

S.A. A'rab, Rabat, 1982, 101 (French trans. by G.S. Colin, El-Maqsad (Vies des saints du Rif) in Archives Marocaines, 26 (1926), 90-91); Ahmad al-Qashtali, Tuhfat al-mughtarib bi-bildd al-Maghrib li-man la-hu min al-ikhwan f karamat al-shaykh Abi Marwan, ed. F. de la Granja, Madrid, 1974, 76, 78, 108.

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tures that, on other occasions, elicited only indifference or disdain. Abu 1- Qasim al-'Azafi, credited with having introduced the mawlid in Ceuta during his tenure as governor of the town between 1249 and 1279 (in emu- lation, perhaps, of local Sufi circles?) (2), had food from 'municipal' store- houses handed out to its inhabitants during this festivity (23). His example was to be followed by subsequent Moroccan rulers. The distribution of alms and food among the urban poor during the mawlid was, for example, still a usual practice at the court of al-Mansur al-Dhahabi (d. 1603) (24).

Copious banquets were also a frequent means of expressing gratitude to God for granting certain favours or as propitiatory offerings. Thanksgiving was often conveyed through official handouts of food to the needy. Al- Badisi, a late thirteenth-century hagiographer, relates an episode involving the Almohad caliph 'Abd al-Mu'min b. 'All (r. 524-58/1130-63) that may help illustrate this point. One of 'Abd al-Mu'min's sons suffered from leprosy and, in spite of their efforts, court physicians were incapable of fin- ding a cure. The caliph heard of a northern holy man-cum-quack doctor cal- led Abu Dawud, famous for his infallible remedies and healing powers, and summoned him to the palace. The saint arrived in Marrakesh and after laying his hands on the prince succeeded in ridding the latter of the disease. 'Abd al-Mu'min, overwhelmed with joy, "ordered to distribute alms among beggars and those in distress, as well as prepare abundant food for both the elite and the common people" (25). Although the story is, evidently, not genuine, it shows, nevertheless, both the belief in supernatural phenomena and faith-healing at the time and the way in which rulers, representatives of God on earth, acknowledged His 'assistance', however inscrutable the lat- ter was.

Welfare provisions and propaganda

Ruling dynasties adopted minimal welfare policies to alleviate the priva- tions experienced, either endemically or recurrently, by those at the bottom of the social pyramid. Officially-supervised distributions of food among the indigent were always sporadic, more the result of 'cosmetic' royal initiatives to curry favour with the populace and seek legitimacy than part of purpose- ful long-term charitable programmes. There existed, at least until the mid-

(22) See J.D. Latham, "The later 'Azafids", Revue du Monde Musulman et de la Mdditerrande, 15-16 (1973), 109-125; H. Ferhat, "Le pouvoir desfuqaha' dans la cite: Sabta du XII au XIV? siecle", in M. Gar- cia-Arenal-M. Marin (eds.), Saber religioso y poder politico en el Islam, Madrid, 1994, 53-70. On the his-

tory of the mawlid in Morocco see N.J.G. Kaptein, Muhammad's Birthday Festival. Early History in the Cen- tral Muslim Lands and Development in the Muslim West until the 10th/16th Century, Leiden, 1993.

(23) Ibn 'Idhari, Al-Bayan al-mughrib fi akhbar al-Andalus wa-l-Maghrib (qism al-Muwahhidin), ed. M.I. al-Kattani et al., Beirut, 1985, 398.

(24) Al-Fishtali, Mandhil al-safd' fi ma'dthir mawali-na al-sharaf, ed. 'A. al-Karim Karim, Rabat, s.a. (25) Al-Badisi, Maqsad, 27.

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fourteenth century, a rudimentary infrastructure of 'public welfare'. Its impact was, understandably, very superficial. The Almohad caliphate, for instance, distributed alms (from funds allocated for that purpose by the trea- sury) among beggars and vagrants periodically. Apparently, an official was appointed to oversee the allocation of 'public' charity early on during the Almohad rule. Unfortunately, the identity of only one of these officials is known. Ahmad b. Ibrahim al-Qanjayri (d. 627/1230), a close confidant of the Almohad authorities, was put in charge of the distribution of alms among those segments of society unable to fend for themselves, namely "paupers, those with insufficient means and those living in abject poverty". He was also commissioned to oversee the administration of charitable trusts establi- shed by the Almohads in Mecca for the benefit of shurafd' living in need (26).

Al-Qanjayri was as well the leader of a Sufi order (ta'ifa), apparently "spread throughout Morocco", but of which we know very little (27). It seems, however, that this order was a 'puppet' of the Almohad government, devoid of autonomy due to its dependence on treasury funds, and created for the sole purpose of curtailing the influence of existing brotherhoods whose resistance to official interference and, in general, refractory attitude were seen with misgiving by the authorities (28). It is likely that, by sponsoring this

pseudo-brotherhood, the Almohads were trying to cash in on the surge of popular interest for Sufi doctrines and rituals of the late twelfth century and woo those Sufi sympathisers still not affiliated to any order. But to compete on an equal footing with the rest of tariqas which vied for the support (both ideological and pecuniary) of the populace, the new order had to provide similar 'services', not only spiritual uplifting and religious guidance, but also almsgiving. The choice of al-Qanjayri, an official hitherto in charge of the distribution of public charity, as leader of the new order does not seem fortuitous (29). The creature of the Almohad caliphate was, however, still- born. It only managed, on the one hand, to elicit a lukewarm response from the common people, aware that al-Qanjayri was in cahoots with court digni-

(26) Ibn 'Abd al-Malik al-Marrakushi, Al-Dhayl wa-l-takmila (vol. 1), ed. M. Bencherifa, Beirut, s.a., 49. (27) Ibid., 48; Ibn al-Abbar, Al-Takmila li-Kitdb al-Sila, ed. 'I. al-'Attar al-Husayni, Cairo, 1955, 2 vols.,

1:118. (28) H. Ferhat-H. Triki, "Hagiographie et religion au Maroc m6dieval", Hesperis-Tamuda, 24 (1986), 17-

51, p. 49. (29) Al-Qanjayri's career, moreover, coincided with the reign of al-Mansur (r. 580-95/1184-98), whose

persistent attempts to drum up the support of leading Sufi shaykhs through patronage (fiscal exemptions, financial aid, etc.) are well-known. See, for instance, M. Kably, Societe, pouvoir et religion au Maroc a la fin du Moyen-Age, Paris, 1986 and Murdja'at hawla 1-mujtama' wa-l-thaqdfa bi-l-Maghrib al-wasit, Casa- blanca, 1987; H. Ferhat, Le Maghreb aux XII' et XIII siecles: les siecles de lafoi, Casablanca, 1993, chap- ter 'Al Mansour ou la tentation mystique' (pp. 91-99).

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taries, some of whom were directly responsible for the clampdown on the activity of prominent Sufi shaykhs hardly half a century earlier (30). It failed to co-opt, on the other, Sufis of stature, in spite of the numerous enticements they must have been offered (lucrative posts and regular monthly stipends). Most Sufis greeted al-Qanjayri's offers with derision, regarding him as a crony and stooge of his Almohad paymasters. His ostentatious lifestyle and unbridled lust for wealth contrasted sharply with the frugality exhibited by most of his 'co-religionists'. Their attitude towards him can be exemplified by the scornful remarks of an anonymous Sufi who went to visit him: "I had assumed that Sufi shaykhs wore rags and clothes full of patches (duluq); [I am dismayed] to see that you, on the contrary, own horses, rich garments and luxury goods" (31).

Before the advent of the Marinids the number of 'public' hospices built in Morocco was probably very small. Their social impact was, most likely, negligible. They were mainly designed to serve as long-term confinement centres for the mentally insane and those suffering from incurable or infec- tious diseases (that is, as hospitals or mdristdns) (32), rather than as tempo- rary refuges or hostels for homeless beggars and travellers from outside town. Beggars, especially in towns, normally slept rough in squares and mosque courtyards. Travellers, merchants and newcomers could lodge at private houses, hostelries (funduqs) or, if they could not afford paying accommodation, stay in makeshift camp-sites on the fringes of built-in areas (33). The absence of state-run almshouses meant that towns probably had a permanent 'floating' population of beggars, seasonal labourers, migrants and uprooted peasants from the immediate hinterland who eked out a living by begging or performing menial jobs. Conditions were even more precarious in the countryside, where peasants and herdsmen endured perio- dic droughts or plagues that often ruined entire villages, forcing their dwel- lers to turn to nomadism or join the drift of impoverished countrymen to urban centres. Family ties and tribal solidarity acted as palliatives; relatives

(30) Almohad policies towards followers of Sufism were, at least during the second half of the twelfth century, ambivalent, as they wavered between tolerance but strict 'surveillance' and outright repression. The attitude of the caliphate is encapsulated in the following passage, inserted by 'Abd al-Malik al-Marrakushi in his biography of the ascetic 'Isa b. 'Abd al-'Aziz Yallabakht al-Jazuli: "When al-Mansur -one of [the rulers] of [the dynasty] of the Banu 'Abd al-Mu'min- was informed about him, his piety, asceticism, righteousness, austerity and his dedication to the spread of science were mentioned. [He pursued this goal] showing com- plete indifference towards the elite, that is, princes and governors. And it was the case that 'Abd al- Mu'min and his descendants had struggled resolutely to keep those who behaved in this way under control (al-tanqir 'amman hddhihi halu-hu), trying to uncover their true intentions, dreading uprisings and revolts". See Al-Dhayl wa-l-Takmila (vol. 8), ed. M. Bencherifa, Rabat, 1984, 249-50; M. Kably, Variations islamistes et identite du Maroc medieval, Paris-Rabat, 1989, 41, n. 57.

(31) Al-Qashtali, Tuhfat al-mughtarib, 101. (32) 'Abd al-Wahid al-Marrikushi, Al-Mu'jib fi talkhis akhbdr al-Maghrib, ed. R. Dozy, Amsterdam,

1968. (33) See, for instance, al-Tadili, Tashawwuf, 452, 455-6; Ahmad Baba, Nayl al-ibtihdj bi-tatriz al-Dibaj,

Beirut, s.d., 61.

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and/or members of the same clan provided assistance to those of their kin dogged by misfortune. But these measures only served to patch up the pro- blem, rather than eradicate it. Besides, self-help proved inadequate when economic setbacks were not simply temporary but reached, on the contrary, calamitous proportions. It offered little succour, moreover, to those who could not rely on family or tribal relief networks, transient groups, such as travellers, pilgrims or itinerant labourers, and vagrants. In many cases, the 'hospitality' of Sufi lodges helped offset both the lack of a basic 'welfare infrastructure' and the shortcomings of traditional forms of mutual assis- tance. Despite the efforts of the Marinid administration, notably from the reign of Abu 1-Hasan (r. 731-49/1331-51) onwards, to create a wide network of hospice-like establishments, the latter proved insufficient to combat chro- nic poverty or urban mendicity or meet the needs of travellers and mer- chants, so that zdwiyas continued to be indispensable as a substitute for or complement to state-run charitable institutions. The scope and social reper- cussion of their charitable services were such that when, in the mid-four- teenth century, some fuqaha' tried to curb their activity on the grounds that they had become 'dens of iniquity', their attempts were thwarted by the lack of consensus on this drastic measure among other leading members of the legal hierarchy. Thus, whereas mostfuqahad agreed that some aspects of the Sufi rituals performed in zawiyas smacked of heterodoxy and were, there- fore, legally reprehensible, opinions differed on the best course of action to put an end to the alleged 'excesses' perpetrated by their residents. Some, such as al-Haffar (d. 842/1438) and later Abu Ishaq al-Shatibi, adopted an intransigent stance, arguing that rites like the sam' constituted blamewor- thy innovations (bida') and breached, therefore, Islamic law. Al-Haffar, for example, issued a religious injunction (fatwa) in which he condemned those who provided financial assistance to Sufi lodges by establishing religious endowments (awqdf) in their favour, claiming that such action was tanta- mount to condoning the dubious ritual practices in which their residents indulged (34). Other jurists, however, adopted a more pragmatic attitude. Although they also disapproved of some of the controversial rites performed at Sufi lodges, they ruled out taking punitive measures against the latter on the grounds that they provided a valuable 'social' service and their closure would have been detrimental to those groups, such as travellers and the poor, who benefited from their charity. Abu Sa'id b. Lubb (d. 782/1381), for ins- tance, railed against some Sufi ceremonies -especially the samad- but he did not advocate the closure of zawiyas, a measure that he regarded as dispro- portionate and potentially damaging. He opted, rather, to turn a blind eye to the dubious religious practices that took place in them and allow them to function freely because of their invaluable role in "reducing indigence (haja)

(34) Ahmad al-Wansharisi, Al-Mi'yar al-mu'rib wa-l-jdmi' al-mughrib 'an fatawi ahl Ifriqiya wa-l- Andalus wa-l-Maghrib, ed. M. Hajji et al., Rabat-Beirut, 1981, 13 vols., 7:115-6.

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and eradicating poverty (fdqa)". Imposing restraints on their activity was, therefore, an inadvisable course of action, one likely to provoke outcry among the most vulnerable social strata: "they [lodges] provide shelter for people from outside town (ghurabd'), serve as refuges for the weak and for wayfarers [...] and soup-kitchens for the poor and distressed travellers" (35). Ibn Lubb's views were dictated by expediency; he understood that, by taking stringent measures against Sufi lodges the judiciary would not stamp out 'heresy'; repressive policies aimed at curbing unorthodox practices were, furthermore, bound to backfire ... they might have been effective in comba- ting religious 'deviance' but they would have antagonise those sectors of the populace who relied on the charity of Sufi zdwiyas. Identical concerns, that is to avoid engendering social unrest by taking draconian measures against Sufi lodges, were shared by other eminent jurists such as Abu 1-Barakat al- Balafiqi (d. 771/1370). When asked to issue a legal opinion about the advi- sability of banning Sufis from gathering at a zawiya to "intone litanies, recite poems composed by disreputable authors such as al-Hallaj and ultimately fall into a delirious trance", al-Balafiqi replied that the fact that such acts contravened the shari'a did not justify the closure of the institution as this would have deprived beggars and travellers of an important source of assis- tance (36). Pragmatism, once again, outweighed religious dogma. The perni- cious effects of Sufi activity, in terms of spread of erroneous beliefs and unorthodox forms of worship, were considered a lesser evil when compared to the harm ensuing from the interruption of lodges' charitable services.

The Marinid zdwiya

Unlike their predecessors, the Marinids did pursue an ambitious pro- gramme of 'public welfare'. The epitome of their charitable policies was the zawiya, an institution that shared, as we shall see, not only the name but also many of the characteristics of its Sufi counterpart, the Sufi lodge. Ibn Marzuq, panegyrist of the most illustrious monarch of the dynasty, the sul- tan Abf 1-Hasan, summed up the aim of the new institution as follows: "they [zawiyas] are buildings dedicated to offering hospitality to those who call on them and lodging to travellers in need" (37). Its functions coincided, there- fore, with those already performed by Sufi lodges. This coincidence was not, I believe, accidental. Was the Marinid zacwiya modelled on eastern caravan- serais (khans) or khdnqds, both institutions already known in the Maghrib through the works of mid-twelfth century travellers? (38) This explanation

(35) Ibid., 11:37-38. (36) Ibid., 11:38. (37) Al-Musnad al-sahih al-hasan fi ma'dthir wa-mahasin mawla-na Abi l-Hasan, ed. M.J. Viguera,

Algiers, 1981, 413. (38) See Ibn Jubayr, Rihla, ed. W. Wright, New York, 1973 (2"d ed.), 284.

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seems rather far-fetched. It is more plausible to assume that the Marinid-

sponsored zawiya was inspired by autochthonous models of which Sufi

lodges appear as the most likely candidates. Was it then a deliberate replica of the latter?

The earliest Marinid zawiya recorded in Morocco was the one built at the mausoleum of the emir 'Abd al-Haqq (d. 614/1217) in the village of Tafar- tasat. A mosque and a zawiya -"where wayfarers were fed"- were erected at this burial site (39). The sultan Abu Yusuf Ya'qub (r. 656-85/1258-86) orde- red to build a number of zawiyas in desolate regions (falawat) in order to

"supply food to those travellers and wandering beggars" who passed across them (40). For the first time, then, the recipients of assistance were not exclu-

sively travellers and merchants but also the rural poor. Marinid zawiyas would henceforth cease to operate only as 'inns' and gradually turn into hos-

pices. The Banu Marin and allied tribes penetrated into the northeast of Morocco in successive migratory waves throughout the first half of the thir- teenth century. The Rif highlands were their first area of expansion. During that period the region witnessed a surge of Sufi missionary activity. Many lodges -some small hermitages/rdbitas but others, such as the zawiya of al- Harb on the outskirts of Badis, sizeable religious establishments (41)- were founded at the time, coinciding with one of the more intense phases of Mari- nid expansion. In the Rif, Sufi lodges played a significant role as arbitration centres (at a time when the rapacity of Marinid horsemen, both as a result of indiscriminate plundering or burdensome tributes, drove peasant communi- ties to turn to Sufi shaykhs for help) and soup-kitchens. In fact, groups of Marinid warriors are reported to have sought the assistance of local lodges during times of famine. Al-Badisi recounts how a party of Banu Wattas hor- semen, threatened with starvation during a period of severe scarcity, set off for the zaiwiya led by Ibrahim b. 'Isa in the village of Nakur in the hope of

finding food there. Although in this episode the group of Marinid raiders are

portrayed as 'scroungers' trying to take advantage of the generosity of a holy man, the fact that even invading nomads sought the protection of Sufi lodges when in dire need of food reveals the importance of the practice of the it'tim in the Rif region (42). More than as centres of learning or religious instruc- tion, local lodges were mainly renowned as 'refuges'. The it'afm was, doubt- less, their most influential social service (43). The Marinids had the opportu-

(39) Anonymous, Al-Dhakhira al-saniyyafi ta'rikh al-dawla al-mariniyya, ed. 'A. al-Wahhab b. Man- sur, Rabat, 1972, 34; Ibn al-Ahmar, Rawdat al-nisrin fi dawlat Bani Marin, ed. 'A. al-Wahhab b. Mansur, Rabat, 1962, 22.

(40) See Dhakhira, 91; Musnad,o1 16. (41) See al-Awrabi, Manaqib Abi Ya'qub al-Bddisi, in A. al-Bu'ayyashi, Harb al-Rifal-tahririyya, Tan-

giers, 1974, 2 vols., 1:301-343, p. 309. (42) Maqsad, 37 (tr.). (43) See A. Khaneboubi, Les premiers sultans merinides (1269-1331). Histoire politique et sociale,

Paris, 1987, 38.

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nity to experience its benefits themselves during the earlier stages of their swift expansion throughout the northern half of Morocco. Its popularity among the common people must surely not have escaped them. It is possible that, in a telling display of their political shrewdness and readiness to assi- milate those local traditions -such as the cult of saints- that might help legi- timise their rule, the Marinids encouraged an institution likely to replicate the success achieved by Sufi lodges. The choice of the term zcwiya to desi- gnate the still fledgling state-run institution could not be more calculated. In fact, the word zawiya employed to denote a 'residence for Sufis' -the mea- ning it had in Egypt and elsewhere in the Middle East (44)- only starts to gain currency in Morocco in the Rif during the thirteenth century, coinciding with Marinid tribal penetration in the area (45). For quite some time, then, the boundaries between both 'official' and Sufi zdwiyas were blurred.

The building of zawiyas was at first restricted to relatively outlying areas such as the intersections of trade routes and the fringes of desert regions. They were mainly intended for travellers and, perhaps, also for pilgrims. Abu 1- Hasan had 'inns' (rutab) built along the roads that joined the main urban centres and entrusted local villagers with the running of these establishments. In return for their services as 'inn-keepers' they received lands in usufruct (iqtad't), both to raise funds for the upkeep of these buildings and provide them with a regular income (46). Because of their physical location (sparsely populated areas) the social impact of these institutions was rather limited. A radical shift in the function and organisational structure of Marinid zdwiyas took place, however, during Abu 1-Hasan's reign. The sultan ordered to erect two of them in the town of Miknasa, the first ever to be built in an urban area (47). Abu 'Inan (r. 1349-59) continued his father's policy and stepped up the building of hospices in towns. He introduced substantial changes, howe- ver, into their system of management and objectives. He founded a za.wiya in Ceuta that followed the traditional typology of these institutions; its purpose was to provide temporary accommodation for merchants from outside town (48). The one he built on the outskirts of Sale differed from previous ones in that it was not conceived as a short-term 'hostel' for tradesmen but, rather, as a permanent residence for ascetics/Sufis, hence its name of zawiyat al- nussdk (49). This foundation heralded a turnabout on Marinid welfare policies. Abu 'Inan realised that state-run zawiyas had not diverted attention away from

(44) Ibn Battuta, Tuhfat al-nuzdarfi ghari'ib al-amsar wa-'aja'ib al-asfar, ed. and French trans. by C. Defremery and B.R. Sanguinetti, Paris, 1969, 4 vols., 1:71-4.

(45) See Maqsad, passim. (46) Ibn Marzuq, Musnad, 353-4 (tr.). (47) Ibn Ghazi, Al-Rawd al-hatun fi akhbar Miknasat al-Zaytun, ed. 'A. al-Wahhab b. Mansur, Rabat,

1988 (2nd ed.), 37.

(48) Ikhtisar al-akhbar, 32; 'A.H. al-Maji, Al-Maghrib fi 'asr al-sultan Abi 'Inan al-marini, Casablanca, 1986, 248.

(49) Ibn al-Khatib, Nufadat al-jirab fi 'ulalat al-i'tirab, ed. A. Mukhtar al-'Abbadi, Cairo, 1968 (re. Casablanca, s.d.), 170 (n. 2), 325; P. Nwyia, Ibn 'Abbad de Ronda (1332-1390), Beirut, 1961, 57.

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Sufi lodges, the traditional dispensers of charity before the proliferation of 'public' hospices. Marinid zawiyas, still insufficient in number, had failed to wrest control over the provision of charity from their Sufi 'competitors', that still exerted a virtual monopoly on welfare services. They had, moreover, fun- damental flaws: their scope of action was minute when compared to the range of services offered by Sufi lodges ('transient' groups such as merchants or pil- grims constituted only a tiny proportion of society: urban beggars, vagrants or landless peasants fell outside their 'safety network'); some of these establish- ments proved redundant as they offered services long provided by 'subsidia- ries' of Sufi orders (pilgrims, for example, could always count on the aid of caravan stages operated by affiliates of the Hujjaj order along the pilgrimage route to stock up with 'victuals' for the hazardous journey to the Hijaz) (50); they failed, likewise, to dispel a certain feeling of apprehension towards them among ordinary people, who regarded them as vehicles of state ideology. Abu 'Inan was also probably aware that, rather than supplanting Sufi lodges, Mari- nid zaiwiyas were increasingly becoming 'havens' for itinerant Sufis who used these institutions as resting places, an unforeseen side effect much criticised by contemporary jurists (51).

Abu 'Inan thought that by luring Sufis into Marinid zawiyas and putting them in charge of the provision of charity he would enhance the popular appeal of these institutions. This strategy was put to the test in the zaiwiya he ordered to build in Fez al-Jadid in 754/1354. The building, also known as 'the house of hospitality' (dar al-diydfa), comprised several rooms, inclu- ding a dormitory for guests and a 'refectory'. The administrator (nazir) of the awqdf established for the upkeep of the foundation and the chief of the kitchens (al-mushrif 'ala i'ddd al-ta'am) had their own private quarters (52). The novelty of this za.wiya was that, for the first time, temporary guests sha- red accommodation with a number of permanent Sufi residents. These Sufis, led by a master directly appointed by the authorities and, most probably, scrutinised before being admitted into the institution, were veritable govern- ment 'employees'. They received monthly stipends (mansabs) paid out of the revenues generated by the endowments allocated by the treasury. Their task was to cater for those who sojourned there and distribute alms among the beggars who pullulated round the building (53). They were encouraged also to hold their ceremonies, such as the dhikr, in its assembly hall and before a congregation made up of passersby and local townsfolk. They were exhorted, in the course of this ceremony, to "recite litanies (dhikr)... pro-

(50) Ibn Abi Muhammad Salih, Al-Minhaj al-wadih ft tahqiq karamat Abi Muhammad Sdlih, Cairo, 1933, 133, 141-3, 325, 328-9, 343; 'A. al-Latif al-Shadhili, "Abu Muhammad Salih b. Yansaran al-Majiri", in Abu Muhammad Silih. Al-Manaqib wa-l-ta'rikh, Rabat, 1990, 55-67, p. 62.

(51) See al-Wansharisi, Mi'yar, passim. (52) Ibn Battuta, Rihla, 4:352; al-Maqqari, Azhar al-riyadfi akhbar 'lyad, eds. 'A. al-Salam al-Harras

and S.A. A'rab, Mohammedia, 1980, 5 vols., 3:197. (53) Ibn al-Hajj al-Numayri, Fayd al-'ubab wa-ifddat qudah al-adabfi l-haraka al-sa'ida ila Qusantina

wa-l-Zab, ed. M. b. Shaqrun, Rabat, 1984, 48.

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claiming aloud, under the guidance of their shaykh, their gratitude and reco- gnition (al-hamd wa-l-shukr)" -'towards their royal benefactor', one infers- "...while welcoming visitors" (54). The zawiya of Fez was designed therefore to act as a conduit for state propaganda, as a channel for indoctrination. Its Sufi residents, enticed by the prospect of free lodging and a regular income, acted as mouthpieces of the ruling dynasty, extolling the generosity of the Marinid sovereign in sycophantic tributes to his figure held before the mul- titude. It was assumed that ordinary people, always receptive to the harangues of mystics and cossetted by handouts of charity (alms, free meals), would be susceptible to propaganda and end up sharing the feeling of appreciation towards the monarch that Sufis tried to inculcate in them.

It seems, however, that Abu 'Inan's plans did not work out. His brainchild, the 'house of hospitality', declined after his death and ultimately disappeared. It did not spawn similar establishments either. Two reasons may be suggested for its ephemeral existence. First, it only managed to attract lukewarm support among Sufi circles, always wary of government patronage. Second, the impracticability, either due to judicial hostility or budgetary constraints, of government schemes aimed at creating a solid and far-flung charitable infra- structure parallel to - and eventually capable of - superseding that operated by Sufi lodges. To compound matters, for example, legal opposition to the use of public funds by Marinid rulers in order to set up charitable trusts (waqfkhayri) from which zawiyas might have benefited intensified in the second half of the fourteenth century (55). The difficulties experienced by Marinid rulers to use treasury funds, rather than those from the privy purse -apparently inadequate-, to sustain public almshouses contrasted sharply with the financial 'liquidity' of some Sufi establishments. When Ibn al-Khatib, for instance, visited the shrine of Abu l-'Abbas al-Sabti (d. +617/1220) in Marrakesh in the mid-four- teenth century, he referred to this foundation, somewhat disapprovingly, as 'God's customs (diwdn) in the Maghrib', due to the great amount of donations collected there daily. "The needy", he relates, "clustered round its gates ... when the number of supplicants dwindled at the end of the day the custodian [of the shrine] (qd'im) approached the tomb and collected all the donations deposited on it. He then distributed the money among the poor (mahawlj) gathered round the mausoleum" (56). Late fourteenth-century Marinid zawiyas, dogged by lack of funding, could hardly compete with Sufi foundations such as Sidi Bel'abbas's shrine whose affluence and the reach of its charitable ser- vices had no rival: "its income cannot be measured... the poor [who flock to that place] are like hungry birds; their scrawny bellies turn fat [after being there]" (57).

(54) Ibid.; M. Kably, Socidte, 290. (55) M. Shatzmiller, "<Waqf Khayri> in Fourteenth-Century Fez: Legal, Social and Economic Aspects",

Anaquel de Estudios Arabes (Madrid), 2 (1991), 193-215. (56) Apud al-Maqqari, Nafh al-tib min ghusn al-Andalus al-ratib, ed. I. 'Abbas, Beirut, 1968, 8 vols.,

7:272-3. (57) Ibid., 7:273.

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In spite of their failure to build up a widespread network of public 'hos- pices', the Marinids were canny and determined statesmen, aware of the popu- larity enjoyed by welfare policies. Unable to compete with Sufi lodges, they strove to capitalise on their occasional financial setbacks and prop up their charitable services through 'subsidies'. It was a 'parasitic' form of patronage aimed at stealing the limelight and currying the favour of the masses. They tar- geted, obviously, the most popular 'services' offered by zdwiyas, especially the it'am. In the second half of the fourteenth century, for example, the expenses caused by the lodging and feeding of visitors to the ribdt of Safi were paid off by the Marinid treasury (58). Similarly, in an attempt to cash in on the popularity as a pilgrimage centre of Abu Madyan's mausoleum in the village of al-'Ubbad (north-western Algeria), Abu 1-Hasan had a series of extensions built to it, including a madrasa, a mosque and a residence/hospice in which to "feed pilgrims" (59). Marinid authorities assumed the maintenance of this com- plex, turning a number of agricultural properties into a charitable endowment (hubs) to provide revenue for its upkeep (60).

Ahmad Zarruq

References to the it'am in fifteenth-century Morocco are very scarce. This is due to the dearth of documentary sources from that period; it does not imply that its practice slowly ebbed away ... quite the contrary. Judging by the occasional remarks of authors like Ahmad Zarruq (d. 899/1493), his- torical developments may have been very similar to those prevalent in neighbouring areas such as central Algeria, known to us thanks to a compi- lation of legal rulings (fatwas) meticulously studied by J. Berque and H. Touati, the Nawazil of Mazouna.

In the Algerian countryside, the increasing use of this practice by Sufi shaykhs for purposes other than the strictly charitable drew the criticism of local jurists. Their objections focused on two particular aspects. Some fuqahai' argued, on the one hand, that the surreptitious 'monopolisation' of the it'am by Sufi lodges had no legal basis whatsoever and was therefore an 'anomaly'. Claims by chiefs of rural z:dwiyas that the dispensation of charity was their prerogative were based on a fallacy. Sacred texts stipulated clearly that the obligation to assist those in need was incumbent on all Muslims. Why were marabouts (the term used in the Nawdzil) then so adamant, jurists wondered, that offering 'hospitality' was a privilege solely conferred on them? Why were they so bent on outwitting other usual benefactors -village notables, wealthy landowners or local chieftains-, on 'taking over' the pro- vision of charity? By the mid-fifteenth century the it'dm had ceased to be

(58) Ibn al-Khatib, Nufadat al-jirab, 71. (59) Ibn Marzuq, Musnad, 406. (60) Ibn Qunfudh, Uns al-faqir wa-'izz al-haqir, eds. M. al-Fasi and A. Faure, Rabat, 1965, 106.

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simply a philanthropic institution and performed other important functions. It was a mark of social distinction and prestige, an index of one's status and rank in the social ladder. It was also an ideal means of publicising one's affluence and concern for the welfare of others less fortunate and, most importantly, of testing the efficacy of cliental forms of association (musharaka). By setting up permanent soup-kitchens in their zdwiyas, Sufi shaykhs honoured their pledge to support their clients in times of need; they fulfilled their part of the social 'contract' and re-validated it through perio- dic 'impromptu' banquets designed to assert their authority and unflagging capacity to provide 'protection' against sudden crises. Supplying free meals was also, jurists warned, a cunning way to proselytise, to muster support from among malleable and impressionable peasants. This 'dishonest' use of the it'am prompts J. Berque to brand rural marabouts as "des rapaces qui se derobent au devoir de l'hospitalite" (61).

Rural zawiyas, their detractors said, also tried to retain control of the prac- tice of the it'am for lucrative reasons. Their chiefs argued that, by engaging in this charitable service, they incurred heavy expenses that amply exceeded their income. They wielded this argument to impose 'contributions' on their clients and encroach on functions, such as the collection of taxes, hitherto reserved to government officials. Fuqaha' quickly pointed out the contra- dictions in Sufi lodges' actions; on the one hand, they vowed to help improve the lot of neighbouring peasants while simultaneously, on the other, they burdened them with dubious taxes that put a further strain on their fra- gile economy. It was a 'profitable' form of charity, to use an obvious oxy- moron. Thus, in order to raise funds to distribute food handouts, zawiyas had begun to levy taxes such as the zakat and the tithe ('ushr) from local villa- gers. Jurists decried this action, referring to it both as a 'camouflaged' form of extortion and a subterfuge to usurp rights that the sharl'a only granted to the sovereign. Scattered testimonies throughout the Nawazil show that these 'pieuses rapines' -again, Berque's felicitous label- were much resented both by 'taxpayers' and disgruntled Sufi followers (fuqard') alike (62).

Though sketchy, the evidence shows that conditions in Morocco must have been similar. Claims that the it'am had become a device for augmen- ting one's political clout and extracting revenue appear occasionally in the writings of Ahmad Zarriiq. For him, this was but a further symptom of the moral decline of Sufism during the fifteenth century. This process of relent- less degeneration of both the ethos and concerns of mystical brotherhoods was best illustrated by the rapid spread of 'heretical' innovations among the latter. According to Zarruq, 'aberrant' religious practices and behaviour pat- terns that had hitherto remained latent or sprung up sporadically in an 'atte-

(61) "Les Hilaliens repentis ou l'Algerie rurale au XV' siecle d'apres un manuscrit jurisprudentiel", Annales ESC, (1970), 1325-53, p. 1346; L'interieur du Maghreb (XV'-XIX' siecle), Paris, 1978, 55.

(62) See "Les Hilaliens...", 1349; H. Touati, "En relisant les Nawazil Mazouna, marabouts et chorfa au Maghreb central au XV' siecle", Studia Islamica, 69 (1989), 75-94, pp. 78-9.

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nuated' form -some of them are already denounced in thirteenth-century anti-bida' treatises (63)_ had now become pervasive, partly exacerbated by the political confusion of the Wattasid period. Zarruq identified many of the new doctrines and ritual practices that broke away from mainstream Sufi tra- dition in his 'Umdat al-murld al-sadiq (6). Engaging in pagan rites and adopting dissipated habits to speed up the attainment of religious ecstasy and following the Sufi path as an autodidact seeker, that is without being initia- ted and guided by a master, were old errors, long debated and anathema- tised (65). Other aspects of the configuration and pursuits of Sufi orders that attracted much controversy were quite recent. Attaching excessive impor- tance to formal aspects of their rule of conduct (tariqa), i.e. wearing a dis- tinctive cloak, carrying a particular type of rosary or walking stick, etc., in order to differentiate themselves from affiliates to other orders, and relega- ting the study of doctrinal texts to an accessory role, was a phenomenon that, though first detected in the mid-thirteenth century, apparently became ingrained in the course of the fifteenth century (66). Another development which Zarriq wrote scathingly about was the increasing 'deification' of chiefs of Sufi tariqas. Members of Sufi fraternities, he argued, did no longer swear allegiance to a particular set of rules but to a specific master. Their belonging to a particular order did not entail adherence to a given spiritual method but blind obedience to an individual guide (murshid). This engen- dered a 'personality cult', an idolisation of Sufi shaykhs, with its predictable corollaries: grovelling submission to the 'authority' of a leader -not neces- sarily the one who excelled but perhaps the most proficient at eliminating rivals-, surrender of one's will for the sake of a 'common' cause, bullying and manipulation... the emergence, in sum, of a sectarian ethos. Identifica- tion with one's master, rather than with a corpus of beliefs and ritual prac- tices, as a means of asserting one's identity and ideological orientation led to acute disarray and rivalry among Sufi orders. They had ceased to be, much to Zarruq's regret, loose religious groupings in order to become pres- sure groups or lobbies, bands of zealots who vied with each other for supre- macy. Competition between tarlqas, both to gain new followers and control sources of revenue, was fierce. The lust for power (hubb al-riyasa) and financial gain drove their shaykhs to incite their acolytes to 'fight' rival orders, employing unfair tactics if necessary. Leaders of Sufi orders do not seem to have had any qualms about resorting to slander and vilification to tarnish the image of their peers and undermine their influence: "[...] they are disunited because of the plenitude of their shaikhs, and ramified into diffe-

(63) See 'Abd Allah b. Musa al-Fishtali, Kitab iqamat al-hujja 'ala ma ahdathat-hu al-mubtadi', apud P. Nwyia, op. cit., xxxv; Ibn Abi Muhammad Salih, Al-Minhaj al-wadih, passim.

(64) Ms. 1566, Escorial, ff. 48-152. (65) See for instance Ibn al-Khatib, Rawdat al-ta'rifbi-l-hubb al-sharif, Cairo, 1968; Ibn Khaldun, Shifa'

al-sa'il li-tahdhib al-masa'il, Beirut, 1959 (French trans. by R. Perez, La Voie et la Loi, ou Le Maitre et le Juriste, Paris, 1991).

(66) P. Nwyia, op. cit., xxxi.

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rent groups, each group drawn up behind its shaikh, speaking ill of the other group and its shaikh. Thus enmity and hatred occurred amongst the shaikhs to the degree that each of them wishes to drink the blood of the other" (67). It is against this backdrop of intense hostility between Sufi orders that Zarruq formulates his critique to the use of the it'am as a political instru- ment. According to him, contemporary Sufis did no longer adhere to the notion of tawakkul. This principle urged those who embraced Sufism as a way of life to eschew profitable activities that might engender greed and rely on the divine providence to procure an income. This did not mean, however, that Sufis were to live off the charity of others exclusively. They were encouraged also to engage in salaried work to secure their own suste- nance (68). Moroccan Sufis ignored these ethical recommendations; they had succumbed to worldly 'temptations'. Membership of a brotherhood did not mean embarking on a life of renunciation and self-imposed privations but, rather, a chance of social promotion. Charity allowed opportunist mystics to shirk labour without risking being reduced to destitution; patronage from wealthy benefactors like notables or rulers provided a gateway to self- enrichment. Thus, whereas Sufis had hitherto shunned contact with 'corrupt' ruling elites, they now strove to gain appointments to lucrative state offices (khitat sultdniyya) (69). To accumulate wealth, likewise, Sufi establishments needed to build up a large following, for this was the only means of securing a regular flow of revenue, either in the form of cash donations or a part of the annual harvest. Support was neither unconditional nor always forthco- ming; potential donors had to be 'cultivated' through persuasion, deference or exchange of gifts. Hospitality was the most persuasive of arguments. There was no better way of ingratiating oneself with the populace, Zarruq observed, than through their 'stomachs', to use a facile metaphor. The it'dm, the distribution of -increasingly more elaborate and profuse- meals, was not always inspired by altruism ... often, it was done with the prospect of obtai- ning something (political or financial support) in return (70).

The tariqa Jazuliyya and agricultural revival in the 16" century

The second half of the sixteenth century is often portrayed as a period of political upheavals and social dislocation. Although the 'cataclysmic' picture of the period found in most moder studies is probably exaggerated, the truth is that a combination of adverse factors led to an unprecedented crisis that affec-

(67) A. Zarruq, Al-Radd 'ala ahl al-bid'a, apud A. Khushaim, Zarruq the Sufi, Tripoli, 1976, 191. For a critique of Zarruq's assessment of the religious atmosphere prevalent in rural Morocco during the fifteenth century see V.J. Corell, "The 'Sovereignty of the Imamate' (siyadat al-immaa) of the Jazuliyya- Ghazwaniyya: A Sufi Alternative to Sharifism?", Al-Qantara, 17.2 (1996), 429-51.

(68) A. Zarruq, Qawd'id al-tasawwuf, Beirut, 1992; A. Khushaim, op. cit., 205-6. (69) See 'Umdat al-murid al-sadiq, f. 63b. (70) Ibid., 62a.

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ted all social domains. The Sa'diyan dynasty faced several threats on the mili- tary front: persistent European raids on coastal regions and Ottoman incursions along the eastern borders of the realm. The struggle against foreign encroach- ment was hindered by infighting in the royal household. The reign of Ahmad al-Mansur (1578-1603) was, to a certain extent, a political 'hiatus'. After his death, however, dynastic squabbles resumed. The ruling elite, enfeebled by internal quarrels, was unable to quell opposition from among the various cen- trifugal forces that vied for political supremacy during the first decades of the seventeenth century. Administrative paralysis and widespread rebellion ultima- tely led to the fragmentation of the country into several polities, a process conventionally known as the 'maraboutic crisis' (7).

Political turmoil had, obviously, a harmful effect on the economy. Pro- longed warfare disrupted both commercial exchanges and production. Agri- culture was especially affected; fighting halted cultivation, forcing peasants to flee and abandon their fields; formerly fertile lands laid waste by lack of tending; those peasants who clinged on to their landholdings were extremely vulnerable to pillage and requisitions... constant harassment by army troops persuaded the most recalcitrant to leave. The stagnation of agriculture inevi- tably led to famine in some regions. Famished landless peasants roaming around in search of food were a frequent sight in the Moroccan countryside. But harm was not always man-made; nature could be equally damaging. During the period under study, Morocco experienced a lengthy cycle of droughts and plagues that engendered famine and epidemics. Although natu- ral calamities were an old blight on peasant communities, their incidence seems to have intensified during the period spanning the second half of the sixteenth and the first quarter of the seventeenth century (72).

The sixteenth century was also a period of effervescence for Moroccan Sufism. Sufi lodges, mostly attached to the Jazuliyya order, mushroomed all over the country, notably in rural areas. Their patterns of settlement, sources of revenue and social pursuits were remarkably similar, suggesting that they might have been the product of a 'nationwide' missionary activity instigated by former disciples of Muhammad b. Sulayman al-Jazuli (d. 869/1465), epo- nymous founder of the order. Most of these zawiyas sprouted in relatively peripheral districts, either on wastelands or on previously cultivated areas that, due to conflict or natural adversity, had reversed back to its original state, scrubland. The reclamation of disused or barren land (mawat), owner- ship of which is assigned to that who brings it back into cultivation, allowed some of them to accumulate large estates in a very short period of time. Land tenure soon replaced charity as the backbone of zawiyas' economy. The adoption of techniques, such as irrigation, designed to maximise yields and the encouragement of modes of production best suited to their particular

(71) See J. Brignon et al., Histoire du Maroc, Casablanca, 1990, 217f.

(72) B. Rosenberger and H. Triki, < Famines et epidemies au Maroc aux XVI' et XVII siecles >, Hes- peris-Tamuda, 14(1973), 109-175 and 15 (1974), 5-103.

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environment (animal husbandry in lands rich in pastures, such as the zdwiya of Tamesluht, and dry farming in arid regions, as seems to have been the case in Dila') resulted in rapid growth. Most of these lodges were probably generating crop surpluses either within their founders' lifetime or soon after- wards. This surplus contributed further to their wealth: it could be sold, thus generating revenue with which to purchase more landholdings. Often, howe- ver, food surpluses were stocked and devoted to charitable purposes (73).

The provision of relief for impoverished peasants was a paramount concern of rural zdwiyas. In fact, some of them seem to have been expressly founded for that purpose. Thus, when al-Ghazwani 'dispatched' his disciple 'Abd Allah b. Husayn al-Amghari (d.c. 973/1566) to the agricultural hinter- land of Marrakesh (hawz) he assigned him a specific task, namely "to ren- der this land fertile", to become an instrument through which God would "lavish His favours upon its inhabitants" (74). Al-Amghari, founder of Tamesluht, proved to be extremely diligent; shortly after his arrival to the future site of the zdwiya, he managed to enlist the help of local peasants and built an elaborate irrigation network based on underground channels (khettdras), thus diverting water from a nearby spring to surrounding fields (75). The practice of the it'am was an important part of al-Ghazwani's pro- gramme of 'social welfare'. His deputies carried out his instructions with exemplary resolve. One of them, Yusuf b. al-Hasan al-Talidi (d. 950/1543), for instance, set up a soup-kitchen to feed the "thousands" (sic) of visitors and Sufi initiates that flocked to his zawiya each night. After his death, his properties were turned into a trust (hubs) for the benefit of his many dis- ciples and the poor (76).

Before the sixteenth century, the distribution of free meals had been a discretionary practice in some Sufi zawiyas. Jazuli shaykhs, however, tried to regulate and systematise its use. A new post, that of superintendent of the lodge (wakil 'ald it'dm al-ta'dm), was created. His duties seemed to include the housekeeping of the zdwiya, the procurement of supplies and, in parti- cular, the 'catering' for daily meals (77). This position conferred conside- rable clout to its holder. The election of 'Abd al-Karim al-Fallah (d. 933/1526) as leader of the tariqa Jazuliyya suffices to illustrate this point. When 'Abd al-'Aziz al-Tabba' died without having appointed a suc- cessor, his closest disciples gathered to select a new shaykh. Unable to reach a consensus, each pretender staked his claim to the leadership of the order, invoking either higher rank or virtue to back up his candidacy. After

(73) F. Rodriguez-Maias, "Agriculture, Sufism and the state in tenth/sixteenth century Morocco", BSOAS, 59 (1996), 450-71.

(74) Ibn 'Askar, Dawhat al-nashir, 105. (75) P. Pascon, Le Haouz de Marrakech, Rabat, 1983, 2 vols., 1:268-9, 275f. (76) M. al-Mahdi al-Fasi, Mumti' al-asm' fi dhikr al-Jazuli wa-l-Tabbd' wa-md la-huma min al-atbd',

eds. 'A. al-Hayy al-'Amrawi and 'A. al-Karim Murad, Fez, 1989, 78; 'A. al-Qadir al-'Afiya, Al-Hayat al- siyasiyya wa-l-ijtimd'iyya wa-l-fikriyya bi-Shafshawan wa-ahwazi-ha, Mohammedia, 1982, 392.

(77) See, for example, M. al-Mahdi, Mumti' al-asma', 44, 101.

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what appear to have been painstaking deliberations, it was agreed that al- Fallah should be the next leader as he had been his 'protege' (muwdli) and the one in charge of running his household and keeping the kitchen well- stocked (78).

Hagiographers, eager to play up the affluence of some zawiyas, tend to overstate the magnitude of their charitable services. The number of commen- sals partaking of their free meals is probably inflated; 'banquets' are almost invariably depicted as lavish and multitudinous. Lodges' barns are said to have been brimming with grain and cattle to feed visitors. At the zawiya of 'Abd Allah al-Kush in Marrakesh, for example, each of the cooking pots of its kitchen could contain 'a couple of oxen'; each day a number of cattle and sheep were slaughtered there; huge dishes of couscous were left to cool down on whitewashed slabstones before being served (79). The liberality of some chiefs of zawiya seemed to know no bounds. Muhammad al-Sharqi (d. 1010), founder of Boujad, did not content himself with showering his guests with such 'delicacies' as dates and honey; he also made sure that their riding ani- mals received plenty of hay while they were penned-up in his stables (80). Food was especially bountiful during religious festivals (mawdsim). The one held annually at Tamesluht attracted 'enormous crowds'. During the leader- ship of its second shaykh, Ahmad b. 'Abd Allah al-Amghari (d. 985/1577), up to 'ten and a half thousand' pilgrims are said to have thronged to the lodge to take part in the moussem. Al-Amghari's servants (khudddm) must have worked frantically to feed such a large gathering, a congregation who had, moreover, a voracious appetite: according to a chronicler (notorious, it must be said, for his propensity to exaggerate) they 'gobbled up', in just one day, 'seven hundred sheep, two hundred cows and up to twenty camels' (81). Such

display of prodigality, were it to be true, must have depleted the zawiya's livestock severely. Obviously, these accounts should not be taken at face value. But dismissing them hastily as mere hyperboles or delusions of hagio- graphers without a modicum of balance would be unsound. Regardless of whether the figures they give are accurate or not, these accounts are sympto- matic of the considerable resources accumulated by some lodges and of their 'advanced' logistical capacity in times of crisis. They are also indicative of their 'entrepreneurial' skills, even at an early stage of their development: to respond, as effectively as they did, to recurrent famines required not only to secure crop surpluses (or a share of their clients' harvest, as we shall see later) year after year and maintain well-run storage facilities but also to contrive means of replenishing their stocks of perishable goods. The efficacy of zawiyas' relief schemes was amply tested during periods of scarcity, quite frequent judging by the ghastly episodes of famine described in contempo-

(78) Ibid., 44. (79) Ibid., 101. (80) A. Bukari, Al-Zawiya al-Sharqawiyya: zawiyat Abi l-Ja'd, Casablanca, 1989, 2 vols., 2:16. (81) Ibn 'Askar, Dawhat al-nashir, 107.

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rary sources (82). Their prompt response to what B. Johansen calls 'unfortu- nate twists of fate' (an indication both of their charitable commitments and great political acumen) earned Sufi lodges widespread popular acclaim (83). The popularity of their famine relief programmes and the possibility that lodges might wield their ascendancy to give vent to their increasing political ambitions did not escape the Sa'diyan court, always wary of any develop- ment likely to strengthen their influence. In 958/1551, the sultan Muhammad al-Shaykh (r. 946-64/1540-57) initiated a clamp-down on Sufi institutions. Among the zdwiyas subjected to censorship were some that had excelled at providing relief in times of famine. The zawiya of 'Abd Allah al-Kush was closed down at the behest of the sultan in 960/1552 (84). Abu 'Umar al- Qastalli (d. 974/1567), one of the most proficient practitioners of the ift'm, was kept under house arrest in Marrakesh because rulers feared his fame - partly derived from the fact that his zdwiya ran a renowned soup-kitchen- and large following (85). The chief of Tamesluht, 'Abd Allah b. Husayn al-

Amghari, also suffered repression; he was expelled from the capital in times of Mawlay 'Abd Allah al-Ghalib (r. 1557-74) (86). It is possible that other chiefs of zadwiya meted out similar punishments but chroniclers neglected to record their names. It seems as though lodges in which the practice of the it'am was more 'systematic' bore the brunt of official harassment. Chroni- clers point out that the main targets of this campaign were shaykhs suspect of nurturing political ambitions, those capable of rallying many partisans round them. But where did their 'authority' stem from? Was their 'charisma' suffi- cient to generate such enthusiasm among the populace or, perhaps, did the former need the buttress of more 'tangible' enticements? The it'dm was, to a great extent, responsible for the popualrity of Sufi zawiyas during this period. Their chiefs were aware of this but, did they resort to this practice as a means of propaganda? The Sa'diyans seemed to have no doubts that this was the case. Thus, in a letter addressed to insurgent zawiyas, the sultan Muhammad al-Shaykh al-Saghir (r. 1636-54) railed at the leaders of Dila' and Illigh and accused them of cashing in on the famine that ravaged their regions at the time by increasing the amount of food usually handed out to the needy (87). He showed particular contempt for the chief of Dila' whose zawiya, he clai- med, owed its reputation not to the sanctity of his ancestor, Abu Bakr b. Muhammad al-Majati (d. 1021/1612), but to the "enormous plates of 'aslda" he served to his guests (88).

(82) See, for example, M. al-Mahdi, Mumti' al-asma', 136-7. (83) See B. Johansen, "Des institutions religieuses du Maghreb", Arabica, 35 (1988), 221-252, p. 243. (84) M. al-Mahdi, Mumti' al-asmd', 101; Ibn 'Askar, Dawhat al-nashir, 110; al-Ifrani, Nuzhat al-hddi

bi-akhbar muluk al-qar al-hadi, ed. and French trans. by 0. Houdas, Paris, 1888-9, 41/76-77. (85) M. al-Mahdi, Mumti' al-asma', 98. (86) See al-Ifrani, Safwat man intashara min akhbar sulahd' al-qarn al-hadi 'ashar, lith. ed., Fez, s.a.,

f. 150; al-Nasiri, Kitdb al-istiqsd li-akhbar duwal al-Maghrib al-aqsa, Casablanca, 1954-56, 9 vols., 5:48. (87) See al-Ifrani, Nuzhat al-hadi, 248/411. The sultan uses a scornful expression to describe the it'am:

"to keep the table [constantly] laid for guests". (88) Ibid., 282/468.

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The it'am assumed a distinctive political funcionality from the beginning of the seventeenth century, coinciding with the end of the centralised state in Morocco and the breakup of political authority into several nuclei. The weakness of the Sa'diyan administration in the aftermath of al-Mansur's death in 1603 encouraged some dissident groups to revolt and establish inde- pendent chiefdoms. Some of these new polities were ruled by saintly lineages and had their seats of government in thriving zawiyas: Dila', Illigh in the Tazeroualt and Zdagha/Tafilalt at the western edge of the High Atlas. Some rebel movements were led by religious reformers and did not form visible 'states'; in general, they did not attempt to build an institutional structure and lacked cohesion. They were successful for as long as the revo- lutionary zeal or reformist ethos that had inspired them remained alive. Whatever their ideology, mechanisms of legitimisation and social strategies, Sufi-led movements pursued similar reformist programmes in both the political and religious spheres. The restoration of old Islamic values (social justice, mutuality), the end of dynastic despotism and the setting-up of a new 'order' based on egalitarianism were ideals often invoked by Sufi refor- mers (89). This egalitarian message crystallised into concrete welfare poli- cies. To build a large constituency, a prerequisite to launch a political 'cru- sade' with any chances of success, aspirants of whatever hue must gain credibility. Thus, regardless of the medium chosen for propagandising their claims (genealogy, prophetic claims, etc.), 'revolutionary' leaders needed to convince their audiences that they had the means of translating their refor- mist programmes into definite actions. The practice of the it'am constituted an ideal vehicle for publicising their credentials. The career of Ibn Abi Mahalli (d. 1613) is a case in point. He declared himself Mahdi shortly after al-Mansur's death in 1603 and succeeded in establishing an independent chiefdom in the Draa valley. His rebellion was short-lived; it was crushed in 1614 thanks to the intervention of a rival marabout, Yahya b. 'Abd Allah al- Hahi, ally of the Sa'diyan ruler Mawlay Zaydan (90). His revolt fits the pat- tern typical of messianic movements: he claimed to be the Mahdi, the 'redeemer', sent by God to wipe out corruption, restore justice and bring succour to the deprived. Although his rising appeared in the guise of a 'mil- lennarian' movement and he exploited the messianic expectations then latent in southern Morocco to gain legitimacy, Ibn Abi Mahalli seemed aware that prophetic invocations and reformist slogans were not, despite their allure, sufficient to secure the adhesion of the common people. Thus, no matter how persuasive his message may have been, he felt the need to 'practise what he preached' from the very outset of his mission. Again, no deed seems to match the it'am when it comes to demonstrating one's charitable

(89) See Abu Bakr al-Dila'i's 'manifesto' in Sulayman al-Hawwat, Al-Budur al-ddwiyya ft ta'rif bi-l- sadat ahl al-zdwiya al-Dila'iyya, ms. 26 dal, Bibliotheque G6n6rale (Rabat), f. 46; M. Hajji, Al-Zdwiya al- Dila'iyya wa-dawru-ha al-dini wa-l-'ilmi wa-l-siyasi, Casablanca, 1988 (2nd ed.), 33.

(90) See D. Jacques-Meuni6, Le Maroc saharien des origines a 1670, Paris, 1982, 2 vols., 2:598f.

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concerns. The timing of Ibn Abi Mahalli's missionary activity was not casual: his revolt coincided with a period of severe famine. In his Islit, the would-be rebel does not conceal his dismay at the ordeal of the rural popu- lations of southern Morocco: "people are starving everywhere; they suffer a famine unheard of so far" (91). So, what measures did Ibn Abi Mahalli's take immediately after declaring himself Mahdi? Which means did he employ to publicise his reformist programme, to give evidence of the philanthropic motives underlying his insurrection? He did not have to search very far; he simply resorted to a social practice long customary in Sufi lodges: giving away food to his partisans. In a letter written in the month of September of 1612 -the climax of the revolt-, an English merchant remarked: "at his beginning, he [Ibn Abi Mahalli] put forth only one tent and a kitchen" (92). For a foreigner, the fact that a rural saint could build up such a large follo- wing and look set to overthrow the monarch from such humble foundations -a tent, the 'foundation stone' of the future zawiya, already functioning as a soup-kitchen- was certainly striking. For local tribesmen, however, there was nothing remarkable in Ibn Abi Mahalli's behaviour: he was merely reproducing a code of action followed in the past by other Sufi shaykhs. The Mahdi's conduct, far from being naive, proved fruitful, as Moise Pallache, the Dutch charge d'affaires, observed in a report drawn up in 1614: "[...] il y hebergeait, sans leur demander aucune retribution, tous les voyageurs qui venaient a passer a proximite, si bien qu'a la fin, les pauvres des contr6es lointaines venaient lui apporter leurs dons et presents, pensant par la gagner le Ciel. Ce fut par ces moyens que peu a peu grandit cet imposteur" (93).

Sources of income

Chroniclers are notorious for their parsimony when it comes to discussing zawiyas' resources. When they refer to their sources of revenue they do so obliquely, as if the subject were too banal, incongruous in a type of narra- tive that values the legendary and the ethereal to the detriment of the mun- dane. Writing about the 'economy' of Sufi institutions was never their prio- rity as it was thought to detract from the sense of loftiness and unearthliness they sought to convey. A study of a social practice such as the it'dm, howe- ver, that failed to address the issue of funding would be obviously flawed. Whatever their degree of laconism, the sources do give us some insights into the methods employed by Sufi lodges to finance welfare services.

(91) See A. Kaddouri, Ibn Abi Mahalli al-faqih al-tha'ir wa-rihlatu-hu al-lslit al-kharit, Rabat, 1991, 21; ibid., "Ibn Abi Mahalli: a propos de 1'itin6raire psycho-social d'un Mahdi", in A. Kaddouri (ed.), Mahdisme. Crise et changement dans I'histoire du Maroc, Rabat, 1994, 123.

(92) H. de Castries (ed.), Les sources inedites de I'histoire du Maroc, Paris, 1925, prem. s6rie, Angle- terre, 2:471.

(93) Ibid., Paris, 1912, prem. s6rie, Pays-Bas, 2:441.

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Discrepancies are frequent in accounts of the material life of Moroccan zawiyas. Abu 'Uthman Sa'id al-Mushtara'i, leader of a zawiya located on the outskirts of Miknasa, for example, is said to have lived in abject poverty, without known occupation or land from which to raise an income. Yet, in spite of this, it is claimed that he was able to feed a large crowd on a daily basis. The chronicler, oblivious to what he has just stated, later reproduces the testimony of a servant whereby we get to know that al-Mushtara'i was indeed quite well off: he owned cattle and his fields must have yielded prolific harvests... the sur- plus grain was stored in nearby barns (makhdzin al-zar') (94). His proverbial generosity was not then, as his biographers contend, the result of wizardry; jud- ging from his wealth he could afford to be open-handed with his guests without incurring huge losses of revenue. Another shaykh famous for his munificence, Muhammad b. Was'dun, is said to have fed thousands of visitors in his zawiya of the Jabal Daran. How he accomplished such a feat in a land unsuitable for agriculture remains a mystery (95). Their reluctance to admit that in some lodges the pursuit of financial gain had supplanted ascetic ideals led hagiographers to such inconsistencies. How could they fail to notice the relentless prosperity of landed zdwiyas such as Dila' and Illigh, in the first quarter of the seventeenth century, or Tamgrout and Ouezzane later on in the same century? (9) How could they ignore the gradual shift of emphasis in the economic strategies of wealthy lodges, the gradual abandonment of a trend towards 'redistribution' in favour of one based on 'accumulation'?

The it'am was a costly activity. How could zawiyas sustain such an expenditure on welfare provisions without slowing down their growth? Was such a hefty investment in charity worthwhile? Although most rural zawiyas tended to form farmsteads and amass large estates, the holding of land did not constitute their only source of income. Some received 'tributes' from neighbouring villagers. These tributes could be paid in money but also in kind (a percentage of the annual harvest or part of the livestock) or in labour. In some areas, peasants agreed to pay 'rent' voluntarily, as payment for the services (protection, arbitration) provided by nearby lodges. The zawiya of Tamesluht, for example, collected a tribute (wazif) that fluctuated between a fifth and a tenth of the produce of its clients' fields (97). As Sufi lodges consolidated their power, this tributary system gave way to a model of reve- nue-raising based on taxation: contributions began to be 'extracted' rather than 'solicited' (98). Local peasants were bound to zawiyas by ties of clien-

(94) See M. al-Mahdi, Mumti' al-asma, 105. (95) Ibid., 103. (96) On the last two see H. Elboudrari, < Quand les saints font les villes : lecture anthropologique de la

pratique sociale d'un saint marocain du XVIIt siecle ?, Annales ESC, 3 (1985), 489-508; A. Hammoudi, < Saintete, pouvoir et societe : Tamgrout aux XVII' et XVIIIc siecles >, Annales ESC, 35 (1980), 615-641.

(97) See Ibn 'Askar, Dawhat al-ndshir, 106; M. al-Mahdi, Mumti' al-asmd', 67. (98) On the levying of the zakdt by late-sixteenth century lodges see A. Bukari, Al-Zdwiya al-

Sharqawiyya, 1:70-7 1; A. al-Latif al-Shadhili, Al-Tasawwuf wa-l-mujtama': namadhij min al-qarn al-'dshir

al-hijri, Sale, 1989, 205; J. Berque, Ulemas, fondateurs, insurges du Maghreb. XVII' siecle, Paris, 1982, 92.

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tage. Cliental relationships engendered different types of subordination. Some peasants became sharecroppers; they held land and paid rent -usually part of their harvest-, enjoying limited security of tenure. Others, however, remained landless and were hired as labourers; they were paid in kind, nor- mally a fifth of the crop yielded by the lands they tilled -hence their desi- gnation, khamdmisa (99). Their status was comparable to that of bonded ser- vants (khudddm). Their work was often arduous and their living conditions dreadful. They were shackled by stringent rules and had their freedom of movement severely restricted. Al-Yusi (d. 1102/1691) described their mise- rable conditions in a heart-rending passage of his Muhddarat: "if they [their masters] realise that someone intends to leave in search of religious enligh- tenment or spiritual guidance, they get angry at him and threaten to kill him and seize his possessions" (100). Coercion was not only used to deter dissa- tisfied peasants from migrating but also to force them to perform tasks regar- ded as degrading. 'Servants', indeed, toiled in the fields, but they were also assigned menial chores like preparing and serving meals. The fact that khudddm were obliged to assist with the it'am against their will led some guests to snub the generosity of certain lodges. The faqih al-Saghir b. al- Nayyar (d. 1056/1646), for example, refused to eat the food offered to him by Muhammad b. Abi Bakr al-Majati, chief of Dila', because he found the way he treated his servants -"those charged with harvesting and threshing the grain"- repulsive (101). Clients also did unpaid work (twiza) for Sufi lodges. These prestations of labour or corvees included tilling part of their lands, tending their livestock or in general providing additional manpower for laborious tasks such as harvesting, sinking wells, etc. Theoretically, labour services were not compulsory (102). This was the case in some

zawiyas, like the one headed by Sa'id b. 'Abd al-Mun'im al-HIhi (d. 953/1546) whose clients (al-muntasibun ilay-hi) performed unpaid work for him voluntarily (mutatawwi'un) (103). As the number of visitors 'entertained' by Sufi lodges soared, the workload of retainers increased proportionally. The supplementary labour they provided became thus indispensable to ensure the running of lodges' welfare services. Some zdwiyas, bent on retai- ning this source of free labour, did not hesitate to resort to extortion to secure the 'payment' of the twiza ('04).

(99) See M. al-Mahdi, Mumti' al-asma', 87. (100) See Al-Muhadarat, ed. M. Hajji, Rabat, 1976, 122 (French trans. by J. Berque, Ulemas,fondateurs,

134). (101) Ibid., 135; M. al-Qadiri, Nashr al-mathani li-ahl al-qar al-hadi 'ashr wa-l-thdni, eds. M. Hajji

and A. al-Tawfiq, Rabat, 1978, 2:34 (French trans. in Archives Marocaines, 21 (1913), 16). (102) See A.-L. de Pr6mare et al., Dictionnaire Arabe-Francais, Paris, 8 vols. (to date), 1993-, 2:113. (103) Al-Ifrani, Safwat man intashara, f. 11. See also A.-L. de Pr6mare, Sidi 'Abd-er-Rahman el-Mejdub:

mysticisme populaire, societe et pouvoir au Maroc au XVI" siecle, Paris, 1985, 77. (104) Al-Yusi, Muhadarat, 122 (French trans. by J. Berque, Al-Yousi. Problemes de la culture marocaine

au XVIIF siecle, Paris-The Hague, 1958, 131).

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Symptoms of decline

By the early seventeenth century, whatever charitable mission the it'am still performed had been overshadowed by more selfish aims; what really mattered was its potentiality as an instrument for financial gain and social advancement. In a segmentary society where power was mainly exercised through patro- nage, social rank had to be constantly reasserted through ostentation or conspi- cuous consumption and the endorsement of clients re-validated by dispensing favours. In a recent work, A. Hammoudi has shown the importance of gift exchange to secure the loyalty of clients. 'Notables', a generic term that encompasses disparate social categories such as tribal chieftains, village elders and leaders of zawiyas, had to cultivate the favour of followers and adepts both to retain the latter's backing and reinforce their superior status (105). Though Hammoudi's analysis focused on the 'Alawite dynasty, his postulates are also valid for earlier periods. The it' m served a dual purpose. As a yardstick of social standing, it could be used to win prestige and exhibit one's affluence. As the paradigm of charity, it was an effective means of showing one's magnanimity and of seeking the acquiescence of subordinates. The fact that self-interest spurred notables to be charitable was frowned upon by some authors. In his Ajwiba, Muhammad b. Nasir (d. 1085/1674), leader of the zawiya of Tamgrout, berated those who acted in this way: "most people [...] make gifts because they wish to be seen as generous and enhance their repu- tation [...] I do not know of any case in which gifts are made out of religious motivation or reasons other than [personal benefit]" ('06). Generosity entailed reciprocity; altruism did no longer play a significant role. Benefactors expec- ted to obtain something in return for their favours (107). Counter-gifts could take corporeal form (alms, offerings) but also translate into political support, into what P. Bourdieu refers to as 'symbolic capital' (108). The value of 'pre- dictable' donations differed in proportion to clients' social status and wealth; the treatment they received should therefore fit their condition. Devoting more time and energy to court the propertied classes or rural elites (al-khassa) was a sensible course of action as their donations were bound to be substantial. This strategy led to deep changes in the praxis of the it' m. A practice that, at least originally, was thought to transcend social cleavages and foster egalita- rianism began to take on a discriminatory character. Some zawiyas adopted a double standard and offered their guests different 'menus', depending on their rank and geographical origins. They practised what J. Berque ironically calls 'generosites selectives'. Abu 'Umar al-Qastalli served different dishes to his visitors, in accordance with their status ('ald qadr .tabaqati-hi): barley bread,

(105) See Master and Disciple. The Cultural Foundations of Moroccan Authoritarianism, Chicago, 1997, 37f. (106) Apud H. Touati, < La loi et l'ecriture. Fiqh, 'urfet soci6et au Maghreb d'apres les Ajwiba d'Ibn

Nasir (m. 1085/1674) >, Annales Islamologiques, 27 (1993), 93-108, p. 106. (107) On the bipartite nature of donations see the classic monograph by M. Mauss, The Gift, New York, 1976. (108) See Outline of a Theory of Practice, Cambridge, 1977, 17 If.

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dashish (porridge made with crushed wheat and butter) and couscous for the common people and bread doughed with wheat flour, honey and poultry for those of higher rank (a'la martaba) (109). His disciple Abu Bakr al-Dila'i fol- lowed suit and so did other shaykhs like 'Abd Allah u Mbarek from Aqqa (1O). When accused of hypocrisy, they tried to justify this inequality on dietary grounds, alleging that it would be inappropriate to serve coarse food to people, such as townsfolk, with 'delicate palates', as well as it would be unwise to offer elaborate meals to countrymen (1l). In general, these arguments were considered too flimsy and failed to convince many of their contemporaries who treated them as mere evasions. But introducing distinctions between the well-to-do and the humble was not the only innovation. Some zawiyas came to regard the practice of the it'dm as a matter of protocol, as part of a social code they had to follow to perpetuate their dominant position and make them- selves worthy of their clients' esteem. Its use was restricted, however, to pro- teges; another important trait of the it'am, its 'universality', vanished (12).

Al-Yasi

In his writings, al-Yusi undertook the painful task of recording the irre- versible decline of a once much-praised tradition. Although most of his cri- ticisms had been formulated by previous authors, he re-elaborated and pre- sented them in a coherent form. His main contention was that zdwiyas were consistently associated with 'free meals' and that this reductionist percep- tion had relegated some of their other social functions to a marginal role. Feeding visitors was no longer one of the various services provided by lodges but their raison d'etre. Convention had rendered the practice of the it'am obligatory (shart): "zdwiyas are renowned nowadays among travellers for continuously giving away food to visitors, the poor and clients (mulizimun), to such an extent that ordinary people [regard this practice] as a precept (fard) or social imperative (shart)" (13).

In his letters of admonition to his companions, the it'am is often likened to a 'business scam'. Chiefs of Sufi lodges complained, he wrote, that this service represented a heavy financial burden and used this as a pretext for demanding compensation from their clients and associates. As this practice was optional, responsibility for any financial loss or debt fell solely on the former; beneficiaries of lodges' hospitality could not be expected to contri- bute donations (futuh) as this would transform what was ostensibly a 'gift' into a remunerated service. Al-Yusi tried to understand the rationale behind

(109) Ibn 'Askar, Dawhat al-nashir, 185 (tr.); M. al-Mahdi, Mumti' al-asma', 100. (110) Al-Qadiri, Nashr al-mathani, 243 (tr.); al-Tamanarti, Fawa'id, 76. (111) M. al-Mahdi, Mumti' al-asmad, 149. (112) See H. Elboudrari, "Quand les saints...", 500. (113) Muhadarat, 130.

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this behaviour but had to conclude, ruefully, that he was before a swindle. Ziwiya leaders sought to make a profit out of the "morsels of food they gave away" -borrowing again a phrase by J. Berque (114)-; they pleaded financial constrictions to cajole clients into giving them assistance. Their greed (hubb al-dunyd) had led them to contrive such a cunning scheme. For al-Yusi, this was a wrongdoing (zaygh) similar to that perpetrated by those shaykhs who levied the tithe from client tribes (al-'ashshar) (15).

But was the lure of lucre, al-Yusi wondered, the only factor that compel- led heads of Sufi households to act as they did? He noted that the prospect of social promotion was also an important incentive. Thus, according to him, contemporary shaykhs supplied 'free' meals to their adepts to fulfil the 'ar, a tacit obligation or code of honour that bound those in the higher echelons of the social hierarchy to make gifts -in this case food handouts- to their 'inferiors' regularly in order to secure their backing and preserve their pres- tige and respectability (16). They had to cultivate assiduously the support of their clients and chose to do so through 'commensality'. For al-Yusi, the fact that charity had ultimately become subservient to propaganda was lamen- table. His work was but an attempt to reverse that trend.

A recapitulation

This article traces the evolution of the it'dm, a practice that in Morocco is commonly associated with the activity of Sufi lodges, for over five centu- ries. It begins with Abu Ya'za (d. 572/1177), whom oral tradition and legend regard as its originator, and concludes with al-Yusi (d. 1102/1691), himself a leading Sufi ideologue but, nonetheless, also one of its main detractors.

Although the chronological limits selected for this analysis may seem too vast, methodological exigencies did not leave any other option. To grasp the multifaceted nature of this practice and its adaptation to different historical contexts made the choice of a longue duree approach not only convenient but epistemologically sound. This article describes both the formal imple- mentation of a welfare service and the ideological motivations that under- pinned it. It outlines its several metamorphoses, from a ritualised modality of charity to an instrument of propaganda and a means of asserting cliental forms of social organisation. It shows, in sum, how philanthropic institutions -zawiyas in this particular case- manipulated the exercise of charity to per- petuate their hegemony over dependent groups.

Francisco RODRIGUEZ-MANAS

(CSIC, MADRID)

(114) See Al-Yousi, (<< ils... font commerce de bons morceaux >). (115) See al-Yusi, Muhddardt, 134; ibid., Rasa'il, ed. F. Khalil al-Qabli, Casablanca, 1981, 2 vols., 2:389f. (116) Rasa 'il, 2:372. On the notion of 'ar see E. Westermarck, Ritual and Belief in Morocco, London, 1926.

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