Between Islamists and Liberals: Saudi Arabia’s New “Islamo-Liberal” Reformists Stéphane Lacroix The last few years in Saudi Arabia have witnessed the rise of a new trend made up of former Islamists and liberals, Sunnis and Shi‘ites, calling for democratic change within an Islamic framework through a revision of the official Wahhabi religious doctrine. These intellectuals have managed to gain visibility on the local scene, notably through a series of manifestos and petitions, and their project has even received support from among the Royal Family. Indeed, the government has since then taken a number of preliminary steps towards political and religious reform. But does this mean that Saudi Arabia is about to enter the era of PostWahhabism? This article will examine a new phenomenon in domestic Saudi Arabian politics, namely the emergence of a constituency made up of former Islamists and liberals, Sunnis and Shi‘ites, calling for democratic change within an Islamic framework through a revision of the official “Wahhabi”1 religious doctrine. Since the end of the 1990s, the Saudi intellectual field has been subject to significant internal developments that have led to the splitting up of its Sunni Islamist component into three main orientations. First are the prominent members of the former al-Sahwa al-Islamiyya (“The Islamic Awakening,” the Islamist opposition of the early 1990s), such as Salman al-‘Awda or ‘A’idh al-Qarni, who have decided to move away from domestic political issues and to restrain their activity to the religious field. In other words, the government has co-opted them and uses them as a substitute for the Council of Senior ‘Ulama’ (Hay’at Kibar al-‘Ulama’), whose legitimacy and influStéphane Lacroix is a PhD candidate and teaching assistant at Sciences-Po Paris. 1. Although one has to be very careful when using the word “Wahhabism,” which in recent decades has become more of a political anathema than a suitable tool for the social scientist, this term can nevertheless be used as an operational concept on the condition of it being given a proper definition. I thus define “Wahhabism” as the religious tradition developed over the centuries by the ‘ulama’ of the official Saudi religious establishment founded by the heirs of Muhammad ‘Abd al-Wahhab, an establishment which in turn considers itself as the legitimate guardian of this tradition. However, the Wahhabis never refer to themselves as such, and always use the terms Salafi (with reference to al-salaf al-salih or pious ancestors) or Ahl al-Tawhid (People professing the absolute unity of God). It is worth noting that not only the Wahhabis stricto sensu (i.e. the ‘ulama’ of the official religious establishment) call themselves Salafis in Saudi Arabia, but also most of the Islamists. MIDDLE EAST JOURNAL ✭ VOLUME 58, NO. 3, SUMMER 2004 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 345 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM 346 ✭ MIDDLE EAST JOURNAL ence have suffered a first blow with the Gulf War2 and a second blow with the successive deaths of its two most respected figures, Shaykh Ibn Baz and Shaykh Ibn ‘Uthaymin, in 1999 and 2001. Second are the Islamists who have chosen to venture into global Salafi-Jihadi politics, acting as ideologues or spokesmen for the new radical trend. Third are those who have taken a middle way. They are the focus of the present study. As early as 1998, these activists and thinkers began reformulating their calls for political reform in an Islamo-democratic fashion while expressing unprecedented criticism of the Wahhabi religious orthodoxy, thus insisting on the necessity to combine political reform with religious reform. It is on this basis that they have striven to forge alliances with individuals belonging to the remaining (non-Sunni Islamist) components of the Saudi intellectual field, mainly liberals and Shi‘ites. Through their efforts, they have managed to create with those a common democratic, nationalist, and anti-Wahhabi political platform, thereby giving birth to a new trend within the Saudi political-intellectual field. This trend thus stands out both because of the novelty of its religio-political discourse and because of the extreme diversity of its proponents, who come from very different generational, regional, and intellectual backgrounds, reflecting in a way the Kingdom’s own diversity. While some of these intellectuals refer to themselves as wasatiyyun (advocates of wasatiyya3 ), tanwiriyyun (enlighteners) or even ‘aqlaniyyun (rationalists), most of them agree on defining themselves as islahiyyun (reformists), and, as ‘Abd al-‘Aziz al-Qasim put it less formally in March 2003, as “a bunch of liberal Islamists… or Islamist liberals.”4 Thus, we will use the term “Islamo-liberal reformism” to designate the new trend’s intellectual framework, and we will refer to its sympathizers as “Islamo-liberals.” There is no doubt that the tragic events of September 11, 2001 served as something of a catalyst for this Islamo-liberal reformism. Prior to that date, these intellectuals expressed their views informally in private salons, Internet forums and articles in the press. But in the wake of the attacks, they took advantage of the new political climate prevalent in the Kingdom to create a wider consensus on their ideas and to formalize their aspirations into political manifestos and petitions, the most elaborate of which was presented to Crown Prince ‘Abdallah in January 2003. Therefore the 2. The Council of Senior ‘Ulama’, which represents the highest institution in the official religious establishment, was at that time compelled to issue a fatwa (religious statement) allowing foreign troops into Saudi Arabia. 3. This Arabic term, which can have both a religious significance (i.e. moderation) and a political one (i.e. balancing the liberal “left” and the Islamist “right”), has been used by the Islamo-liberals since 1998 but is no longer specific to them. Indeed, since the Riyadh bombings in May 2003, the term wasatiyya has become widely used among Saudi Islamists — notably Salman al-‘Awda, ‘A’idh al-Qarni, and Safar al-Hawali — fearing of being assimilated to the radical Jihadis and willing to stand out as moderates. The use of this term aims at granting religious legitimacy to this “moderation,” the idea of wasat being frequently mentioned in the Qur’an. (See for example Sura II, al-Baqara, 143: “And thus We have made you a community of moderation (wasat).”) 4. “104 intellectuels proposent une profonde réforme en Arabie Saoudite,” [“104 Intellectuals Propose a Profound Reform in Saudi Arabia”], Le Monde, March 5, 2003. 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 346 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM SAUDI ARABIA’S “ISLAMO-LIBERAL” REFORMISTS ✭ 347 steps towards reform taken by ‘Abdallah in 2003 — notably, the organization of a national dialogue conference and the announcement of partial municipal elections — came in part as a response to these domestic demands and can in no way be considered as merely the result of American pressures. A study of the new Islamo-liberal trend will thus throw light on the endogenous dimension of a Saudi reform process that many observers have incorrectly described as purely exogenous. In order to give the reader a better overview of this trend, we will begin by drawing an intellectual portrait of several prominent figures representing its key components. In doing so, we will illustrate the trend’s socio-cultural heterogeneity and, at the same time, its ideological cohesiveness. We will then examine the conditions that allowed for the emergence of this trend and analyze how it gradually fashioned a unitary political discourse aimed at bringing together the whole Saudi intellectual field. Finally, we will briefly evaluate the political significance of Islamo-liberal reformism and analyze how the government has come to grips with this nascent religiopolitical phenomenon. PROMINENT FIGURES OF THE ISLAMO-LIBERAL TREND ‘ABD AL-‘AZIZ AL-QASIM, THE DEMOCRAT SHAYKH Shaykh ‘Abd al-‘Aziz al-Qasim was born in the early 1960s in the Riyadh region. After studying religion, he became a judge at the High Court in Riyadh. At the beginning of the 1990s, he subscribed to the doctrines of al-Sahwa al-Islamiyya and got involved in its political reform project, first by joining the 52 prominent Saudi religious figures who presented the “Letter of Demands” (Khitab al-matalib) to King Fahd in 1991, then by becoming an important figure of the “Committee for the Defence of Legitimate Rights” (CDLR — Lajnat al-difa‘ ‘an al-huquq al-shar‘iyya), founded by members of the Islamic Opposition in 1993. He was subsequently arrested and was freed in 1997. He has never been reinstated in his former functions and is now working as an independent legal consultant.5 Since his liberation, he has become a key figure in the emerging Islamo-liberal trend. In al-Qasim’s thinking, the starting point is political. He begins by criticizing the attitude of the contemporary Islamist movements which categorically reject Western political systems. For al-Qasim, while these systems shouldn’t be adopted in their current form, they should nonetheless constitute a source of inspiration for Muslim reformers. He argues that all that Islam requires is a political system where justice prevails, the definition of which is left to the ijtihad (interpretation) of men. So, since democracy has proven the best way to create a just society, Muslims should embrace it.6 He insists on the fact that democracy is only an operational scheme, the contents 5. Dialogue between ‘Abd al-‘Aziz al-Qasim and Tuwa, www.tuwaa.com, March 12, 2003 (http:// bb.tuwaa.com/showthread.php?s=c07110b4f71da52c9d23d11bb403b536&threadid=11198 ). 6. ‘Abd al-‘Aziz al-Qasim, “al-Nizam al-Huquqi al-Islami wa Azmat al-Wasa’il — al-Dimuqratiyya ka Namudhaj li-l-Jadal al-Fiqhi” [“The Islamic Legal System and the Crisis of Means — Democracy as a Paradigm for Legal Debate”], al-Watan, November 21 and 28, 2002. 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 347 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM 348 ✭ MIDDLE EAST JOURNAL of which, in terms of values, must differ according to the nature of the society where it is applied. In short, democratization neither means westernization, nor secularization, which most Islamists still have great difficulty accepting.7 In other writings, al-Qasim calls for the creation of a genuine civil society, without which his concept of an Islamic democracy would be meaningless.8 Interestingly enough, al-Qasim considers jihad to be a pillar of an Islamic civil society: “The principal characteristic of jihad is that it must be decided independently of the official political authority, which makes it a tremendous means of pressure on the authority to ensure it protects the country out of fear that jihad might otherwise be declared.”9 Al-Qasim also strives to demonstrate that Saudi nationalism is not incompatible with Islam. The only problem with nationalism has been its instrumentalization by the secular authoritarian Arab states, leading to its rejection by Islamists who came to consider it an integral part of the regimes they were fighting. However, the idea of Watan (homeland), he argues, is found in the Qur’an. Moreover, the Prophet loved his native city of Mecca, to the extent that several hadiths recount that, when he was in Medina, he felt deeply homesick. Finally, al-Qasim believes it is essential to overcome the divide between Islamists and liberals in Saudi society. He insists that only the lack of mutual knowledge and understanding is responsible for the distrust between the two groups and says he is confident that the increase in the level of communication within the intellectual field will help to solve this problem.10 However, al-Qasim’s liberal conceptions in the realm of politics do not apply to social issues. When asked his opinion about whether women should have the right to drive, he answers that, given the current conditions in Saudi Arabia, he opposes granting it to them. In another interview, he warns against “the dangers of mixing genders in working places, since it can give a man the opportunity to be alone with a woman, which is prohibited in Islam.”11 This example tells a lot about the difference between political liberalism and social liberalism in Saudi Arabia. ABDALLAH AL-HAMID, THE MUJADDID12 ‘Abdallah al-Hamid shares common points with al-Qasim. First, he was also a minor sahwist (i.e. adherent of al-Sahwa al-Islamiyya), and took his first important political stand with the CDLR. Second, the conclusions that he reaches are similar to al-Qasim’s, although he adopts another approach and uses a different discourse. Al-Hamid was born in 1950 in Burayda, in the Qasim region. He received 7. Dialogue between ‘Abd al-‘Aziz al-Qasim and Tuwa, www.tuwaa.com, March 12, 2003. 8. ‘Abd al-‘Aziz al-Qasim, “Mu’assasat al-Mujtama‘ al-Madani Makhraj Azmat al-Nukhba wa-lDawla” (The Institutions of Civil Society are the Solution to the Crisis of the State and the Elite), alWatan, January 12, 2002. 9. Dialogue between ‘Abd al-‘Aziz al-Qasim and Tuwa, www.tuwaa.com, March 12, 2003. 10. Dialogue, March 12, 2003. 11. “Women’s Rights in Saudi Arabia,” Arab News, June 19, 2003. 12. i.e. The Religious Renewer. 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 348 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM SAUDI ARABIA’S “ISLAMO-LIBERAL” REFORMISTS ✭ 349 higher education at the Department of Arabic Language of Imam Muhammad Ibn Sa’ud University in Riyadh. He then went to Egypt, where he studied at al-Azhar and came back with a doctorate in 1977. The same year, he was appointed Professor of Literature. In 1993, al-Hamid became one of the six founding members of the CDLR and subsequently lost his job and was thrown in jail, where he spent a couple of months. He was jailed two more times, in 1994 and 1995. Since then, he has written several books on religious issues, as well as numerous articles.13 Unlike al-Qasim, the starting point in al-Hamid’s thinking is a religious reflection. As he argues, “an innovative rereading of the sacred texts is necessary, nowadays more than ever, for it is out of this that our political thought will emerge.”14 He explains his line of argument in the following terms: “The Islamic thought we know dates back to the Abbasid period. Today, however, we tend to think that this is Islam, which is wrong. If we take a close look at it, we’ll discover that it contains many secondary things that are solutions to problems that arose at that time, because the jurists and thinkers were influenced by their environment.” Applying this argument to the case of the medieval jurist Ibn Hanbal, founder of the Hanbali school of Law and one of Wahhabism’s main influences, he adds: He completed important tasks, such as compiling the prophet’s traditions, but he also expressed views. Among them are some that are open to ijtihad, and wherever there is ijtihad, there is some right and some wrong.(…) It is essential to borrow from our ancestors, for they have played an important role, but what I criticize is the behavior of these traditionalists who refuse to go beyond them, (…) who regard them as saints, as if they were the incarnation of the Book and the Sunna.15 There exist, according to al-Hamid, two forms of Salafism, one innovative, the other conservative. The latter is closely associated with the Saudi religious establishment. “Ibn Taymiyya has fashioned a discourse capable of dealing with the problems of his era, and in this sense, he is an innovator. However, those of his disciples who have today made him an absolute reference and hope to solve our contemporary problems with his ideas are imitators and conservative Salafis.” For al-Hamid, “what we need are people who base themselves on the Book and the Sunna to find solutions to the particular problems we face: globalization, human rights, civil society, United Nations, etc… Can one find in Ibn Taymiyya’s medicine chest remedies to these problems?” What al-Hamid calls for, on the whole, is a revival of the “real” Salafism, in its innovative and animated form, or, in his words, “to return to the methodology of the 13. For his biography, “Al-Duktur ‘Abdallah al-Hamid Yalhaq bi-Nadi Tuwa” [“Doctor ‘Abdallah al-Hamid Joins Tuwa Club”], www.tuwaa.com, May 9, 2003. 14. Author’s interview with ‘Abdallah al-Hamid, Riyadh, June 2003. 15. “Tajdid al-fikr al-dini” [“The Renewal of Religious Thinking”], Al-Shari‘a wa’l-Hayat [Shari ‘a and Life], Al-Jazeera TV, May 26, 2002. 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 349 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM 350 ✭ MIDDLE EAST JOURNAL pious ancestors and not simply to their productions, with a clear vision of what the maqasid (objectives) of the shari‘a ought to be.”16 This vision may remind us of the ideas of Muhammad ‘Abduh and his disciples from the Egyptian religious reform movement of the early 20th century. However, although it might not sound novel elsewhere in the Muslim world, this type of discourse is completely new among Saudi Islamists. This rereading of the texts is meant to show that, originally, “the Muslim faith is double. It requires spiritual and social progress.” But men of religion, who were not equipped to deal with the present, “have neglected the social, temporal, practical principles imposed by religion and have most of the time concentrated on the spiritual, the metaphysical and the theoretical.” Thus “the duties imposed by religion have been restricted to the ritual, and the requirements concerning the life of the community have been neglected.”17 However, as al-Hamid argues, in the Islam of the pious ancestors, politics cannot be distinguished from religion; and human rights, civil society or shura (consultation) are established realities. What he calls for is a return to these values. It is therefore out of his reflection on Islam that al-Hamid calls for respect for human rights, the establishment of a civil society and the rule of shura. He insists on the use of this last term: “I prefer the use of ‘shura’ to the use of ‘democracy’ because what we need is something that is a product of our own culture, not imported concepts.”18 It is perhaps this manner of framing the debate that most clearly illustrates the difference of approach between al-Hamid and al-Qasim. As for Hasan al-Maliki, it is from yet another angle that he addresses the problem. HASAN AL-MALIKI, THE ICONOCLAST Hasan al-Maliki was born in 1970 in the region of Jizan, a few kilometers from the Yemeni border, where he grew up. In his teenage years, he became, as he himself confesses, a conservative Salafi, spending his free time distributing tapes of Ibn Baz and even thinking about going to Afghanistan to fight the Russians. In 1987, he left for Riyadh to study at Imam Muhammad Ibn Sa‘ud University, in the Communication Department, from which he graduated in 1992. It is during the period of his studies that, “shocked by the atmosphere of extremism that surrounded him,” he began to open himself intellectually and became fond of history. In 1993, he joined the Ministry of Education where he worked first as a publication supervisor, then as a professor and finally as a researcher. At the same time, he began contributing to newspapers on a regular basis and was sent to jail for two months in 1996 for an article that was considered too provocative.19 He has also published several books, all of them banned 16. Author’s interview with ‘Abdallah al-Hamid, Riyadh, June 2003. 17. ‘Abdallah al-Hamid, “Al-Sahwa al-Diniyya Lan Tuflih Hatta Takun Hadariyya” [“The Religious Awakening Will Not Succeed Until it Becomes Civilizing”], www.tuwaa.com, May 20, 2003. 18. Author’s interview with ‘Abdallah al-Hamid, Riyadh, June 2003. 19. Dialogue between Hasan al-Maliki and Tuwa, www.tuwaa.com, June 26, 2003. (http:// bb.tuwaa.com/showthread.php?s=c07110b4f71da52c9d23d11bb403b536&threadid=18333 ). 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 350 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM SAUDI ARABIA’S “ISLAMO-LIBERAL” REFORMISTS ✭ 351 in the Kingdom. His latest one, a fierce critique of the Saudi school curricula, was published shortly after September 11th (al-Maliki insists that this timing was a pure coincidence), and triggered a scandal, to the extent that its author was dismissed from his job, to which he has never been reinstated. Hasan al-Maliki repeatedly insists that he is not a politician and does not intend to become one. However, if his writings do not directly target the Saudi political system, they nevertheless shake some of its most essential pillars: the writing of history, the school curricula, and the Wahhabi tradition. It is in his book To Save Islamic History20 that he exposes for the first time his views on the way Islamic history is taught in Saudi Arabia. According to him, things are presented as if the pious ancestors were infallible, which, al-Maliki argues, is completely false. The salaf are not, in this respect, different from the other human beings; some of them have succeeded in what they have undertaken and others have failed. Al-Maliki does not hesitate to blame several characters central to Saudi historiography: the Caliph Mu‘awiyya, whom he describes as a tyrant and an opportunist, and Ibn Taymiyya, whose extreme positions, especially those related to takfir (excommunication), he denounces. For al-Maliki, a reform of Saudi society could only succeed if it began with an unbiased rewriting of history, so that people can learn from the past.21 In the same spirit, he violently attacks Saudi curricula, concentrating his criticism on one of the pillars of Wahhabi religious learning, the subject called “Tawhid” (the uniqueness of God). In his book The Curricula: a Critical Reading of the Prescriptions of “Tawhid” for the Classes of General Education,22 he demonstrates that the school books used by young Saudis are replete with attacks against non-Wahhabi Muslims. Saudi students are incited to excommunicate them, to wage jihad upon them in certain instances and, in any case, to be careful never to mix with them, even if this means making one’s hijra to “the land of Islam.” In the case of non-Muslims, the attacks are even more virulent, as al-Maliki denounces. But he goes further than this in his criticism, and this is where his book becomes truly polemical. Saudi school books are only one of the multiple expressions of a wider phenomenon. The real culprit, he maintains, is Wahhabism. As we have just seen in those two cases, the critique of the Wahhabi dogma is the mainspring of al-Maliki’s work. But this critique is in fact twofold. On the one hand, al-Maliki criticizes the works of its primary sources of inspiration, Ibn Taymiyya and Ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhab, who have “exercised their right to ijtihad, and have, like any other mujtahid (the one who practices ijtihad), made mistakes.”23 For example, in another polemical work, The Imperfections of the Elucidation of Doubts,24 he attacks 20. Hasan al-Maliki, Nahwa Inqadh al-Ta’rikh al-Islami (To Save Islamic History), (n.d., n.p.). 21. “I‘adat Qira’at al-Ta’rikh al-Islami” (“The Rereading of Islamic History”), Al-Shari‘a wa’lHayat, Al-Jazeera TV, December 13, 2000. 22. Hasan al-Maliki, Manahij al-Ta‘lim : Qira’a Naqdiyya li-Muqarrarat al-Tawhid li-Marahil alTa‘lim al-‘Amm [The Curricula: a Critical Reading of the Prescriptions of “Tawhid” for the Classes of General Education], (n.d., n.p.). 23. Dialogue between Hasan al-Maliki and Tuwa, www.tuwaa.com, June 26, 2003. 24. Hasan al-Maliki, Naqs Kashf al-Shubuhat [The Imperfections of the Elucidation of Doubts], (n.d., n.p.). 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 351 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM 352 ✭ MIDDLE EAST JOURNAL one of Ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhab’s core books, The Elucidation of Doubts, denouncing once more the extremism that he exhibits regarding takfir. On the other hand, he castigates the extreme doctrinal rigidity of Wahhabism, which he ironically calls “altayyar al-madhhabi” — literally “the school-trend” — implying that Wahhabism, which initially saw itself as going beyond the distinction between the established juridical schools, has indeed become the contrary of what it had envisioned to be: a new school, the particularity of which is to be even more rigid than all the others.25 In this respect, he agrees with al-Hamid on the necessity of getting rid of this caricature of Salafism that Wahhabism has become and of returning to the original idea, that of a conscious and innovative Salafism, capable of giving rise to a civil society and of permitting the establishment of shura. Al-Maliki’s iconoclastic views have caused him much trouble: first, as we mentioned, the Ministry of Education dismissed him. It is even rumored that Salih alLuhaydan and Salih al-Fawzan, two senior shaykhs from the official religious establishment, personally asked for his removal. Second, the Salafi-Jihadi shaykhs made him one of the main targets of their writings. For example, on August 14, 2001, ‘Ali al-Khudayr posted on the Internet a “Statement on Hasan al-Maliki”26 in which he called him “a defender of the grave worshippers, the murji‘a and the Shi‘ites” and condemned his “slander about the pious ancestors.” Without going so far as to excommunicate him, he nonetheless called for al-Maliki to be tried by a religious court. Other such statements, some of them signed by Nasir al-Fahd, Hamud al-Shu‘aybi and ‘Abdallah al-Sa‘d, followed. However, as we will see, it is not just al-Maliki among these Islamo-liberals who has incurred the wrath of the jihadi shaykhs. MANSUR AL-NUQAYDAN, THE REPENTANT Mansur al-Nuqaydan belongs to the same generation as al-Maliki and followed a path that is in many ways comparable. He was born in 1970 in Burayda, where he grew up. At the age of sixteen, he dropped out of school to devote himself completely to what had become his driving interest, religion. However, the dogma to which he subscribed at that time was a radical form of Islam, “neo-Salafism” as he calls it. “I destroyed all my tapes, burnt the major part of the contemporary Literature I had, took off the watch I used to wear on my wrist and decided I would adjust myself to the sun,”27 he writes, remembering those days. He was arrested several times at the beginning of the 1990s, notably for having set fire to a video store. It was during his stay at Jeddah prison, far away from the “bad company” he had in Burayda, that the transformation really took place. As soon as he was freed at the end of 1997, he spent most of his time reading books, notably from Muslim modernist thinkers. In Decem- 25. Dialogue between Hasan al-Maliki and Tuwa, www.tuwaa.com, June 26, 2003. 26. ‘Ali al-Khudayr, “Bayan fi Hasan al-Maliki” (“Statement on Hasan al-Maliki”), www.alkhoder.com, August 14, 2001. 27. Mansur al-Nuqaydan, “Al-Hijra ila-l-Mustaqbal — Maqati‘ min Sira Ruhiyya” [“Exile to the Future — Extracts from a Spiritual Biography”], Al-Majalla, May 28, 2000. 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 352 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM SAUDI ARABIA’S “ISLAMO-LIBERAL” REFORMISTS ✭ 353 ber 1998, he was appointed Imam at one of Riyadh’s small mosques. In February 1999, he published his first article in al-Hayat, which he called: “Was Ibn Abi Dawud the Victim of an Injustice?”28 In this historical reflection, he aims to demonstrate that Ibn Hanbal’s status as the great Imam the Wahhabis extol today came more as a result of a Caliph’s political calculation than as a natural consequence of his own qualities. He also underlines the paradox of Ibn Hanbal excommunicating mu‘tazili Shaykh Ibn Abi Dawud while ignoring Caliph al-Ma’mun’s own mu‘tazilism. This article came as a bombshell in conservative religious circles. The extremely influential Shaykh Hamud al-Shu‘aybi published a statement denouncing al-Nuqaydan’s words, and a book was even written to refute them. The pressure exerted by al-Shu‘aybi was so intense that al-Nuqaydan lost his position as an Imam. It is with this turn of events that his career as a journalist began in earnest: He started publishing new articles and in September 2000, he was appointed editor of the religious section for the Saudi daily al-Watan. He was dismissed two years later and has been working since then as a freelance journalist.29 “What we urgently need is an enlightened understanding of the shari‘a, the sacred texts and their maqasid (objectives) taking into account the considerable evolutions and winds of change that blow upon nations and cultures,”30 al-Nuqaydan writes. And he even goes further when confessing in private: “What we must have is a genuine revolution of concepts: it is the masalih (interests) and the maqasid that ought to determine the way we read the Qur’an, not the contrary. The Qur’an is an open book; with it, everything is possible.” A wide-ranging and enlightened ijtihad would therefore provide the miraculous cure capable of rousing the Umma out of its torpidity. This, he explains, is where the socio-political reform Saudi Arabia and the Muslim world have been waiting for will come from.31 It is not so much that al-Nuqaydan is more liberal in his ideas than most Islamoliberals, but, in order to make his voice heard, he does not hesitate to use expressions likely to shock his readers. For example, he writes that “Islam needs a Lutheran reform,” and that “we need a new Islam.” He evens defines himself as a humanist, no matter how shocking this denomination would sound to hard-liners.32 In his articles, he tends to deal with sensitive themes, always defending the position contrary to the one adopted by the dominant Wahhabi discourse. For instance, in December 2001 he published an article called “Judgment on the Woman’s ID,”33 in which he vigorously 28. Mansur al-Nuqaydan, “Hal Kan Ibn Abi Dawud Mazluman ?” [Was Ibn Abi Dawud the Victim of an Injustice?”], Al-Hayat, February 23, 1999. 29. Author’s interview with Mansur al-Nuqaydan, Riyadh, June 2003. 30. Mansur al-Nuqaydan, “Hakadha Ta‘allamtu fi-l-Masajid” (This Is How I Was Taught in the Mosques), www.elaph.com, February 8, 2002. 31. Author’s interview with Mansur al-Nuqaydan, Riyadh, June 2003. 32. Dialogue between Mansur al-Nuqaydan and “Muntada al-Wasatiyya,” www.wasatyah.com, December 28, 2002 (removed from “Muntada al-Wasatiyya” shortly after). 33. Mansur al-Nuqaydan, “Hukm Bataqat al-Mar’a” [“Judgment on the Woman’s ID”], on www.alnogaidan.com. 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 353 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM 354 ✭ MIDDLE EAST JOURNAL defended the project of granting women personal identification. In two separate articles, he criticized the “Committee for the Promotion of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice” (Hay’at alAmr bi’l-ma‘ruf wa’l-Nahi ‘an al-Munkar) questioning its role, and finally arguing that its existence is a bid’a (blameworthy innovation)!34 More recently, he drew a clear link between Wahhabism with its inclination to takfir and the terrorist violence the country has been experiencing since May 2003.35 This last article caused him to be sidelined for two months. His obstinacy and penchant for provocation made al-Nuqaydan the jihadists’ primary target, and they acted all the more ferociously towards him as he used to be one of them. In their eyes, he came to represent the archetypal traitor. This is how one should understand the relentlessness and determination that they showed against him. Finally, on January 24, 2003, after numerous pamphlets, manifestos, and books had been written to denounce his intellectual dangerousness, four leading jihadi shaykhs, among them ‘Ali al-Khudayr and Ahmad al-Khalidi, accused him of apostasy for the statements he made during his interview with the forum Muntada al-Wasatiyya (the Forum of wasatiyya, as defined above in footnote 3) in December 2002. They demanded that “the punishment ordained for apostates — death — be applied to him, if the shari‘a is really the law in this country.”36 However, al-Nuqaydan refused to give in to intimidation. A few days later, he replied to those who claimed the right to set themselves as judges of his words through an article entitled “What I think of the Decrees of Takfir.”37 Showing that he has no intention of putting an end to his criticism, he overtly called for a repudiation of Wahhabism, as well as any other form of Salafism, and a revival of Irja’, an early Islamic school of thought that was characterised by its insistence on keeping an apolitical attitude and its refusal to judge the faith of others.38 “Wisdom today demands that we make every effort to teach people “Irja’ ” in faith. Because Salafi thought — in its contemporary meaning — contains by nature an inclination to takfir and exclusivism.” Salafism has thus become a term which al-Nuqaydan regards with great suspicion: “I feel intellectually close to such thinkers as al-Hamid and al-Qasim. But the great difference between us is that they call themselves Salafis and continue to believe in this golden age of the first hegirian centuries.”39 Now, let us take a look at the other components of this Islamo-liberal constituency. 34. Mansur al-Nuqaydan, “Da‘wa ila Taqnin Wazifat Rijal al-Hisba” [“Call for a Regulation of the Prerogatives of the Religious Police”], Al-Majalla, April 30, 2000, and “Al-Amr bi-l-Ma‘ruf wa-l-Nahi ‘an al-Munkar” [“The Promotion of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice”], Al-Watan, February 25, 2002. 35. Mansur al-Nuqaydan, “Al-Fikr al-Jihadi al-Takfiri… Wafid am Asil Darib bi-Judhurihi?” (“The Jihadi Takfiri Thought… Coming from the Outside or Deeply Rooted in the Country?”], AlRiyadh, May 11, 2003. 36. “Bayan fi Riddat Mansur al-Nuqaydan” [“Statement on the Apostasy of Mansur al-Nuqaydan”], www.alkhoder.com, January 24, 2003. 37. Mansur al-Nuqaydan, “Ray’i fi Sukuk al-Takfir” [“What I think of the Decrees of Takfir”], www.elaph.com, February 14, 2003. 38. The accusation of Irja’ has in the last decades been at the center of the debates within the Saudi religious circles, especially between the Islamists and some of the Wahhabi ‘ulama’, each group accusing the other of being Murji’a, or adepts of Irja’. It is within this context that al-Nuqaydan’s call for a revival of Irja’ must be understood as a new challenge to both the Islamists and the Wahhabi establishment. 39. Author’s interview with Mansur al-Nuqaydan, Riyadh, June 2003. 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 354 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM SAUDI ARABIA’S “ISLAMO-LIBERAL” REFORMISTS ✭ 355 MUHAMMAD SA‘ID TAYYIB, THE LIBERAL Muhammad Sa‘id Tayyib was born in Mecca in 1939. In the 1950s, he became an ardent admirer and proponent of Egypt’s President Jamal ‘Abd al-Nasir (Nasser), which, under the reign of King Faysal, caused him much trouble. His writings led him several times to jail. Although in the 1980s he moved slightly away from politics, he could not stand back when, in the wake of the second Gulf War in 1990-1991, the country witnessed a rare wave of political upheaval. Indeed, he subsequently became one of the prominent figures of what came to be known as the “liberal trend.” In 1992, he published a book entitled “Intellectuals and a Prince… Shura (Consultation) and the Policy of the Open Door,”40 which represents an authentic manifesto of liberal reformism, calling for democracy and freedom of speech. As a result of this new impertinence, he once again ended up in jail for a few months. Since the beginning of the media infitah (opening) in 1999, he has been expressing himself regularly in the press and has revived his famous Tuesday diwaniyya (salon), “al-thulathiyya,” a mainstay of Saudi intellectual life, capable of gathering upwards of 80 figures from the local political, economic, media and literary elite.41 Muhammad Sa‘id Tayyib’s political program is that of all liberals: reform, democracy, freedom of speech, human rights, etc… nothing really original here, particularly since he is an activist, not a theoretician. What is interesting to note, however, is that, since the middle of the 1990s, he has begun to reformulate those same political ideas in a new language, insisting on the centrality of Islam. This is not to say that Tayyib, or any of the Saudi liberals, had ever openly put into question the supremacy of the shari‘a. But neither had they taken any active stance towards it, nor had they used it as the intellectual framework of reference for their reform projects. However, Tayyib’s present statements are unequivocal: “Religion is a red line I do not want to cross — and which I do not even want to get close to; this is true particularly for all the questions to which there is a clear answer in the Qur’an and the Sunna.” Elsewhere, he explains that, concerning the role of women, “we do not want to deviate from the book of God and the Sunna of his Prophet, we want for women the rights given to them by the Qur’an and the Sunna.”42 It is on this basis that he and other liberals, aware of their utter lack of popular support within Saudi society, have been calling over the last few years for a rapprochement with Islamists. In 2001, Tayyib declared, acknowledging in a certain fashion that Arab nationalism now belongs to the past and that Islamism has taken over: “Personally, I don’t see any contradiction between my convictions and that of a real Islamist movement, in the sound meaning of the word. On the contrary, we are all brothers and our objectives are the same… a better and more beautiful life. And I will 40. Muhammad Sa‘id Tayyib, Muthaqqafun wa Amir… al-Shura wa Siyasat al-Bab al-Maftuh [Intellectuals and a Prince… Shura and the Policy of the Open Door], (n.d., n.p.). 41. ‘Abd al-‘Aziz Qasim, Mukashafat [Revelations], (Jidda, 2002), p. 221. 42. “Ahdath Amrika wa Athruha ‘ala al-Mustaqbal al-Siyasi li-l-Sa‘udiyya” [“The US Events and their Impact on the Political Future of Saudi Arabia”], Bila Hudud (No Limits), Al-Jazeera TV, December 26, 2001. 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 355 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM 356 ✭ MIDDLE EAST JOURNAL not hide from you that the changes that have occurred have made certain Arab nationalist principles unsuitable for this age. Arab nationalists thus have to adapt to the evolutions, to the requirements and to the circumstances of the era.”43 Since September 11th, “the necessity of joining forces in the face of adversity” has made Tayyib’s calls even more pressing. Interviewed on Tuwa in May 2003, he made this goal the central theme of his speech: “Making peace, getting together, coming to an agreement — call it as you like — is nowadays an urgent and pressing necessity, that can’t be postponed… in this sense, it is exactly like the question of reform itself — and has no less importance.”44 On May 17, 2003, he put his calls into a concrete form by taking part in a meeting with Safar al-Hawali.45 Asked about the impression he had of the shaykh, Tayyib answered: “Believe me, I found nothing in him but nobleness and magnanimity… and a fabulous ability to understand… and an incredible exaltation for the superior interests of the nation.” And for those who would still doubt his sincerity, he adds: “My relations with the religious trend, its figures and leaders are not mere tactical relations, as some imagine. They are, on the contrary, the fruit of true convictions, in the name of the common good of this country.” And Tayyib concludes: “I am entirely convinced that there exist between us and them common principles and denominators, on which we all agree and that we want — with seriousness and loyalty — to develop and to promote… particularly in those difficult and crucial times.”46 This last sentence seems to sum up perfectly the Islamo-liberal project. THE SHI‘ITE VOICES: MUHAMMAD MAHFUZ, JA‘FAR AL-SHAYIB AND SHAYKH ZAKI AL-MILAD Muhammad Mahfuz, Ja‘far al-Shayib and Shaykh Zaki al-Milad are Shi‘ite activists from the city of Qatif, in the Eastern Province. They left Saudi Arabia in the 1980s, before coming back to the country in the 1990s, after an agreement was reached in 1994 between the Saudi government and the Shi‘ite opposition. Mamoun Fandy has noted and analyzed the change of discourse of Shi‘ite activists, from Khomeinism to democratic pluralism, at the end of the 1980s. However, at that time, the Shi‘ites had no one to talk to in the Sunni Islamic opposition, whose 43. ‘Abd al-‘Aziz Qasim, Mukashafat, p. 245. 44. Dialogue between Muhammad Sa‘id Tayyib and Tuwa, www.tuwaa.com, June 6, 2003 (http:// bb.tuwaa.com/showthread.php?s=c07110b4f71da52c9d23d11bb403b536&threadid=15856 ). 45. This happened on the occasion of the launching of Safar al-Hawali’s “Global Campaign Against Aggression,” aimed at uniting “the efforts of members of the Umma in alerting the community concerning its right to self-defense and resistance to the aggression of its enemies in all possible legitimate and effective means ,” and in which Tayyib accepted to take part. (See “Al-Hamla al-‘Alamiyya li-Muqawamat al-‘Udwan Satadbut al-Masha‘ir Tujah al-Akhar” [“The Global Campaign Against Aggression Will Correct the Feelings Towards the Other”] , Al-Watan, May 17, 2003; for more on the Global Campaign Against Aggression, see its website at www.maac.ws . 46. Muhammad Sa‘id Tayyib, “Kalimat akhira ila usrat Tuwa al-Ghaliyya” [“Last Words to the Beloved Family of Tuwa”], www.tuwaa.com, June 22, 2003 (http://bb.tuwaa.com/ showthread.php?s=01d3c9004e798c55e6792c00d3888974&threadid=18038 ). 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 356 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM SAUDI ARABIA’S “ISLAMO-LIBERAL” REFORMISTS ✭ 357 intransigence represented an ever greater danger for them than the power of the royal family. As Fandy argues, their isolation on the local scene made them subscribe to this new discourse in order to be connected with the global world, and particularly its western core.47 The rise of a Saudi Islamo-liberal reformist constituency from 1998 onwards therefore gave Shi‘ite intellectuals an opportunity to reintegrate themselves into the local context, and their discourse subsequently experienced a few changes. Democracy, human rights and civil society still constitute the core of their rhetoric, but two new elements have appeared. First, one can notice a greater emphasis on Islam in comparison with the beginning of the 1990s. As Shaykh Zaki al-Milad puts it: “we, as Shi‘ites, no longer want to be systematically counted amongst the liberals. We wish to propose a project that is at the same time democratic and Islamic.”48 This same idea is at the center of Muhammad Mahfuz’s latest book, Islam and the Challenges of Democracy, in which he writes: “We will not progress and evolve significantly at every level of our existences unless we follow the teachings of Islam. […] The only way for us, as Arabs and Muslims, to evolve and to progress is to combine Islam and democracy.”49 Mahfuz’s discourse thus perfectly echoes that of the Sunni Islamo-liberals. Indeed, to make this combination possible, “we call for a civilizing and humanist reading of Islam,” as he writes, before embarking on a lengthy praise of ijtihad. Second, the Shi‘ite leaders today champion Saudi nationalism, which they have learned to instrumentalize in their political discourse. “We are Saudi and we love our country. All that we ask for is the unity of the Saudi nation to truly become a reality. It is in this framework, and in no other, that we want the Shi‘ite question to be settled,”50 Muhammad Mahfuz explains. “We no longer want to be assimilated to the rest of the Shi‘ites who live in the Gulf and to be suspected of being a fifth column of the neighbouring states. We want to be a fully-recognized constituent of the Saudi nation,”51 Shaykh Zaki al-Milad adds. The discourse used by Shi‘ite intellectuals is therefore very close to that of the other Islamo-liberals we’ve mentioned. Indeed, one can consider them an integral constituent of the Islamo-liberal reformist project. In addition, several channels of communication and interaction have been created between Sunni and Shi‘ite Islamoliberals. For example, the “Tuesday salon,” founded in 2000 in Qatif and supervised by Ja‘far al-Shayib, has received as speakers several prominent figures of Sunni Islamoliberal reformism, such as ‘Abdallah al-Hamid and Tawfiq al-Qusayyir.52 In an unprecedented move in Saudi Arabia, Shaykh Hasan al-Saffar, the historical leader of the Saudi Shi‘ite movement, was invited to give a lecture on “social peace” at the 47. Mamoun Fandy, Saudi Arabia and the Politics of Dissent, (Baginstoke: Macmillan, 1999), pp.211-212. 48. Author’s interview with Shaykh Zaki al-Milad, Qatif, June 2003. 49. Muhammad Mahfuz, al-Islam wa Rihanat al-Dimuqratiyya [Islam and the Challenges of Democracy], (Beirut : Al-Markaz al-Thaqafi al-‘Arabi, 2002), pp.204-205. 50. Author’s interview with Muhammad Mahfuz, Qatif, June 2003. 51. Author’s interview with Shaykh Zaki al-Milad, Qatif, June 2003. 52. Author’s interview with Ja‘far al-Shayib, Qatif, June 2003. 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 357 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM 358 ✭ MIDDLE EAST JOURNAL weekly salon of Rashid al-Mubarak in Riyadh in April 2001. The organizer of the event was none other than ‘Abdallah al-Hamid, and many of the Islamo-liberals attended.53 THE CONSTRUCTION OF A UNITARY POLITICAL DISCOURSE According to Mansur al-Nuqaydan, the origins of Islamo-liberal reformism date back to the second half of the 1990s.54 At that time, the historical figures of the Saudi Islamic opposition — Salman al-‘Awda, Safar al-Hawali and Nasir al-‘Umar — were still imprisoned, and their absence was leaving the field open for new ideas to emerge. It is in this context that a group of minor sahwists who had already been freed by the authorities — among them, ‘Abd al-‘Aziz al-Qasim and ‘Abdallah al-Hamid — and former radical Salafis — notably Mansur al-Nuqaydan and Hasan al-Maliki — became the bearers of a new kind of cultural, religious and political discourse. As time passed, their sympathizers became more numerous, notably, as we’ve seen, among liberals and Shi‘ites, and their stances became more daring, especially with respect to the dominant Wahhabi orthodoxy. It is clear that the media infitah which began in 1999 had a very positive effect on the development of the Islamo-liberal trend by creating more auspicious conditions for its promoters to express publicly their opinions and to interact with each other. The Saudi daily al-Watan, founded in May 1998, played a key role in this process, for it allowed genuine political debates to take place in its opinion pages. The Islamo-liberal intellectuals also became very active on the Internet forums (Muntadayat) which they used to discuss and spread their theses. Two of these forums played a central role in the promulgation of this trend: the first one, named “Muntada alWasatiyya,” was founded in the year 2000 by Muhsin al-‘Awaji, a former sahwist, as a platform for moderate Islamism and therefore attracted a number of Islamo-liberals.55 The second forum was created at the beginning of 2002 and is called Tuwa.56 It defines itself as an “area for free-thinkers who respect free-thinking.” Its users fall along a large ideological spectrum, from the anti-religious liberal intellectual to the Islamo-liberal one. Since September 11th, the extremely harsh criticism of Saudi Arabia in the Western media has caused a great trauma inside the country. This situation has helped create a nationalist atmosphere of unity in the face of adversity. Since then, the Islamoliberal intellectuals have quite successfully taken advantage of this context to carry 53. The Shaykh’s speech and the following debates were later published in a book, the foreword to which was written by Muhammad al-Harfi. See Hasan al-Saffar, Al-Silm al-Ijtima‘i [Social Peace], (London : Saqi Books, 2002); See also “Isdarat — al-Silm al-Ijtima‘i” [“Publications — Social Peace”], Al-Sharq al-Awsat, December 19, 2001. 54. Mansur al-Nuqaydan, “Tafjirat al-‘Ulya wa Qissat al-Fikr al-Islahi” [“The Al-‘Ulya Bombings and the Story of Reformist Thought”], Al-Riyadh, May 15, 2003. 55. The forum’s address is www.wasatyah.com; However, since 2003, this forum has become more radical and most of its “islamo-liberal” figures have deserted it. 56. www.tuwaa.com or http://bb.tuwaa.com. 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 358 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM SAUDI ARABIA’S “ISLAMO-LIBERAL” REFORMISTS ✭ 359 out their project of creating a political platform that would unify the whole of the Saudi intellectual field and, beyond the elite, the entire Saudi society itself. This construction of a unitary political discourse has taken place in several stages, principally by the way of manifestos and petitions, reminding observers of the frenzy that Saudi Arabia had witnessed in the wake of the Gulf War. “HOW WE CAN COEXIST”: A FAILED MANIFESTO OF SAUDI NATIONALISM The first step in that direction was a manifesto published in April 2002 entitled “How we can Coexist.”57 It came as a response to an open letter signed by 60 American intellectuals — among them Samuel Huntington and Francis Fukuyama — which sought to provide moral justifications to the Bush Administration’s “war on terror.” In their text, the 150 Saudi signatories called for peaceful coexistence with the West and expressed their readiness to pursue dialogue with their American counterparts, while strongly reasserting their attachment to their Saudi and Islamic specificity, in a tone that is unequivocally Saudi nationalistic. Moreover, the composition of the list of signatories aims at reinforcing the nationalistic nature of the message. Shaykh ‘Abd al-‘Aziz al-Qasim, who played a central role in the project, and some of his fellow “Islamo-liberals” have indeed managed to gather support from almost all socio-political groups, including liberals and women, but also more radical Islamists such as Salman al-‘Awda or Safar al-Hawali, who thought they had found there a good opportunity to improve their image. The only significant absence is that of the Shi‘ites, who probably resented the presence of ‘ulama’ such as Shaykh ‘Abdallah Bin Jibrin, notorious for having taken radical anti-Shi‘ite stances in the past.58 Al-Qasim and his companions’ main objective here was to make the exterior part of the Islamo-liberals’ political program — and, beyond this, the whole Islamoliberal reformist project itself — appear as if it were the fruit of a consensus within Saudi society. On May 5, 2002, Islamo-liberal columnist Yusuf al-Dayni, believing that the game has already been won, rejoiced in al-Watan: “This manifesto inaugurates a new era of intellectual harmony that really represents our national unity.[…] It has mostly succeeded in shaping a new, unitary intellectual vision capable of destroying the imaginary barriers of ice that have been raised through a long history of struggle between the supposed dualities of modernisation and authenticity, tradition and reason, nationalism and Islam, democracy and shura.”59 The authors’ second objective was to gain durably the support of the senior sahwist shaykhs and to have their legitimacy put at the service of the Islamo-liberal project. 57. “‘Ala Ayy Asas Nata‘ayish” [“How We Can Coexist?”], posted at http://www.islamtoday.net/ bayan/bayanm.cfm on April 29, 2002 — the English translation is available at http:// www.americanvalues.org/html/saudi_statement.html. 58. In 1991, Ibn Jibrin issued a fatwa declaring the Shi‘ite infidels and authorizing their murder. (See Mamoun Fandy, Saudi Arabia and the Politics of Dissent, (Baginstoke: Macmillan, 1999), p. 206. 59. Yusuf al-Dayni, “Bayan al-Muthaqqafin al-Sa‘udiyyin Najah Dakhili wa Ikhfaq Khariji” (The Saudi Intellectuals’ Manifesto — A Success at Home and a Failure Abroad), al-Watan, May 5, 2002. 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 359 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM 360 ✭ MIDDLE EAST JOURNAL However, al-Qasim’s risky bet has failed. The shaykhs from the growing SalafiJihadi trend, acting here as guardians of the Wahhabi Orthodoxy and of the sacrosanct principle of “al-wala’ wa-l-bara’” (loyalty to fellow Muslims and rejection of the infidels), violently criticized the content of the manifesto and attacked al-‘Awda and al-Hawali for supporting it.60 The pressure on the two shaykhs became so strong that they were forced into signing an “explanatory manifesto” in which they purely and simply contradicted every single argument and principle they had stood for in the first text.61 Similarly, many of the signatories published separate statements in which they announced their withdrawal from the list.62 Those moves triggered a shower of criticism in the Saudi press and on the Internet, mainly directed against the Islamist signatories for their opportunism. After two months of a genuine “media-frenzy” surrounding the issue, nothing was left of the manifesto. This first attempt to bring together the Saudi intellectual field on an Islamoliberal and nationalist platform thus seems to have come to nothing. However, the long debate that followed the publication of the text gave the Islamo-liberal reformists, and their ideas, an unprecedented visibility on the Saudi scene. And they were definitely going to take advantage of it to carry on with their socio-political project. “VISION FOR THE PRESENT AND THE FUTURE OF THE HOMELAND”: A REFORMIST CHARTER 63 In August 2002, a group of Islamo-liberal intellectuals, Sunnis and Shi‘ites, embarked on the drafting of a new manifesto dealing in a direct and uncompromising way with the internal problems faced by the country and requesting the implementation of political, economic, and social reforms.64 However, it was only at the end of January 2003, after five months of debate, drafting, and gathering signatures that a charter entitled “Vision for the Present and the Future of the Homeland” was finally sent to Crown Prince ‘Abdallah and a dozen other prominent members of the royal family. The charter begins and ends with an unequivocal pledge of allegiance to the Saudi royal family. First, it contains a number of political demands: the separation of powers; the implementation of the rule of law; equal rights for all citizens regardless of their regional, tribal, and confessional background; the creation of elected national 60. See for example “Ihya’ Millat Ibrahim wa-l-Radd ‘ala al-Mukhadhdhilin al-Munhazimin” [«Reviving the Community of Abraham and Responding to the Defeatist Traitors»], signed by ‘Ali alKhudayr and others, on www.alsalafyoon.com/ArabicPosts/IslamTodayNetRad.htm or Nasir al-Fahd’s book Al-Tankil bima fi Bayan al-Muthaqqafin min Abatil [Castigating the Errors Contained in the Intellectuals’ Manifesto] at http://www.al-fhd.com/kutob.htm. 61. Al-Bayan al-Tawdihi [The Explanatory Manifesto], posted on May 19, 2002, on www.islamtoday.net and removed a few days later. 62. The letters in which the signatories announce their withdrawal can be found at www.alsalafyoon.com/ArabicPosts/IslamTodayNetRad.htm. 63. “Ru’ya li-Hadir al-Watan wa Mustaqbalihi” [“Vision for the Present and the Future of the Homeland”], Al-Quds al-‘Arabi, January 30, 2003. 64. Author’s interview with ‘Abdallah al-Hamid, Riyadh, June 2003. 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 360 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM SAUDI ARABIA’S “ISLAMO-LIBERAL” REFORMISTS ✭ 361 and regional parliaments (majlis al-shura); and complete freedom of speech, assembly, and organization to allow the emergence of a true civil society. As for economic demands, the signatories call for a fair distribution of wealth, serious measures against corruption and waste, and the diversification of the country’s revenues. A third concern, addressed under the rubric of “The Dangers that Threaten National Unity,” deals with social issues: the respect of human rights; the ending of discrimination; the improvement of public services; the struggle against unemployment; and the role of women, who are described as “half of the society” and who should be given the rights bestowed upon them by the shari‘a. Moreover, the signatories ask the rulers to take immediate measures as a proof of their determination to effect reform: the liberation — or fair trials — of all political prisoners, the reinstatement of all the intellectuals dismissed from their jobs, and the right for all to express themselves freely without risk of having their passport seized or losing their jobs. Finally, they demand the organization of a national dialogue conference in which all regions and social groups would be represented. Yet it appears that, in order to assemble a wide consensus within the intellectual field, the Islamo-liberals avoided addressing some of the most controversial issues. First, the issue of a reform of the Saudi curricula, which had for months been at the center of violent disputes between certain liberals and Islamists in the press and on the Internet, has simply been dropped. Second, the question of the role of women in Saudi society, which had been an important focus for the disputes as well, is merely alluded to, and many consider that it has not received the attention it deserves. Although the language of the text may not sound as religious as, say, that of the “Memorandum of Advice” (Mudhakkarat al-Nasiha), which was presented to King Fahd by 107 ‘ulama’ and Islamist activists in 1992, let us not be mistaken: the signatories are careful enough to state several times in the document that the shari‘a is the appropriate framework for all the reforms they demand. Moreover, although it is evident that the signatories endorse such concepts between lines, the words “democracy” and “parliament” are absent and all that can be found within the text is a reference to the Islamic institution of shura. As al-Hamid, one of the authors of the text and whose influence is evident on this choice of terminology, argues, the aim is “to root the reformist discourse in Islam.”65 This ambiguity of an Islamic discourse with a liberal smell, or a liberal discourse with an Islamic smell, explains why most Western — and even Arab — media misunderstood the initiative. Indeed, after many articles described the document as “a liberal petition,” some newspapers, such as the Washington Post,66 preferred to warn their readers against a text written by dangerous fundamentalists opposed to the United States. If one takes a close look at the list of signatories, one will indeed find the whole Islamo-liberal reformist conglomeration in full force: the Islamist wing — which, 65. Author’s interview with ‘Abdallah al-Hamid, Riyadh, June 2003. 66. “Reform with an Islamic Slant,” Washington Post, March 9, 2003. 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 361 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM 362 ✭ MIDDLE EAST JOURNAL although not as numerous as the liberal one, played a key role in the project67 — is notably represented by ‘Abdallah al-Hamid, Hamad al-Sulayfih, and Sulayman alRashudi, three of the six founding members of the Committee for the Defense of Legitimate Rights; ‘Abd al-‘Aziz al-Qasim, whom we introduced earlier; Tawfiq alQusayyir, a former professor of physics and a signatory of the “Memorandum of Advice;” Muhammad al-Harfi, an Islamic researcher; Fayz Jamal, a writer; ‘Abd alMuhsin Hulliyat Muslim, a poet and a journalist; Muhammad Salah al-Din, a senior journalist at al-Madina newspaper and a publisher; ‘Abdallah Farraj al-Sharif, a journalist at al-Madina; ‘Abdallah bin Bejad al-‘Utaybi, a journalist at al-Watan, intellectually close to al-Nuqaydan; ‘Abd al-Humaid al-Mubarak, a Sunni shaykh from the Eastern Province; and Shaykh Ahmad Salah Jamjum, a former Minister of Trade. The liberal wing is represented by intellectuals such as Muhammad Sa‘id Tayyib; Matruk al-Falih, a political science professor at King Saud University; Khalid al-Dakhil, a sociology professor at King Saud university; Qinan al-Ghamidi, a former editor-inchief of al-Watan; ‘Abd al-‘Aziz al-Dukhayyil, a former minister of finance; ‘Abid Khazindar, a literary critic and a former Arab nationalist militant imprisoned in the 70s; and, last but not least, the well-known novelist Turki al-Hamad.68 As for the Shi‘ite wing, it includes Muhammad Mahfuz, Ja‘far al-Shayib, Shaykh Zaki al-Milad and al-Watan journalist Najib al-Khunaizi — twenty people in total. The fact that two of the intellectuals we introduced earlier — Mansur al-Nuqaydan and Hasan al-Maliki — are missing from this list does not mean that they disagree with the demands. On the contrary, both of them have expressed their entire support for the document.69 However, they simply preferred not to get directly involved in politics, considering that their role — which they see as definitely no less important — is elsewhere. If “How we can Coexist” somehow represented the external part of the Islamoliberal reformists’ political program, then “Vision for the Present and the Future of the Homeland” can certainly be considered as the internal one. Thus, these intellectuals have not only managed to orchestrate a historic rapprochement between two forces long considered mutually opposed, the liberals and the Islamists, but they have, manifesto after manifesto, succeeded in constructing a moderate Islamo-liberal reformist and nationalist discourse, around which they created a wide consensus. 67. This dimension was largely overlooked by Richard Dekmejian in his article on “The Liberal Impulse in Saudi Arabia,” Middle East Journal, Vol. 57, No. 3, (Summer 2003), pp. 400-413. The reason for this is that he relied on the statistical method which, in this case, allowed him to show that the majority of the group of signatories are individuals usually categorized as liberals, but didn’t permit him to determine where the group’s intellectual center of gravity is situated. 68. However, Turki al-Hamad has — ideologically speaking — little to do with the Islamo-liberal trend as we described it here. He himself confesses that he didn’t sign the petition — which he considers as “much too Islamist” — out of conviction, but only to prove to its authors, who accused him of not being willing to sign because he feared the consequences, that he did not. (Author’s interview with Turki al-Hamad, Riyadh, June 2003). 69. For Hasan al-Maliki, see his dialogue with Tuwa, www.tuwaa.com; for Mansur al-Nuqaydan, author’s interview, Riyadh, June 2003. 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 362 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM SAUDI ARABIA’S “ISLAMO-LIBERAL” REFORMISTS ✭ 363 GOVERNMENTAL REACTIONS: CROWN PRINCE ‘ABDALLAH AND THE ISLAMO-LIBERALS The first reactions to the petition have overall been quite positive, starting with that of Crown Prince ‘Abdallah who received forty of the signatories in his palace and assured them of his support, before adding that he is not the only person in command and that the process of reform will take time.70 A few days after this historic meeting, an authentic “Riyadh spring” was launched in the Saudi government-controlled press, which witnessed a proliferation of reform-oriented articles implicitly supporting the charter in its general outlines. The first concrete step taken by Crown Prince ‘Abdallah towards the Islamoliberal reformists was the organization in June 2003 of the national dialogue conference which they had asked for in their petition. For the first time in the country’s history, thirty ‘ulama’ belonging to all the confessional groups present on the Saudi territory — Salafi and non-Salafi Sunnis, Sufis, Twelver and Isma‘ili Shi‘ites — were invited to sit together under the Crown Prince’s auspices. The debates led to the adoption of a charter71 which can be considered a first response to the Islamo-liberals’ political and religious demands. On the political level, the text recognizes the necessity of implementing reforms and ensuring freedom of speech and a better distribution of wealth. The subsequent announcement in October 2003 of partial municipal elections to be held in 200472 may be seen as a first concrete move in that direction. On the religious level, the document is a severe blow to the official Wahhabi doctrine. First, it acknowledges the intellectual and confessional diversity of the Saudi nation, which is contrary to traditional Wahhabi exclusivism. Second, it criticizes one of Wahhabism’s juridical pillars, the principle of “sadd al-dhara’i‘ ” (the blocking of the means), which “should from now on be used only with measure and moderation.” It is notably in pursuing this principle — which requires that actions that could lead to committing sins must be prohibited — that women do not have the right to drive in Saudi Arabia. Moreover, among the ‘ulama’ invited to attend the conference, none of the figures of the official Wahhabi establishment were present, which obviously denotes a willingness to marginalize it. However, the Crown Prince’s stance on Islamo-liberal reformism doesn’t seem to be shared by all his brothers, either because they are opposed to the new intellectuals’ reformist and anti-Wahhabi views, or because they fear that the Islamo-liberals might reinforce ‘Abdallah’s position and legitimacy within the royal family. Thus, 70. Author’s interview with Matruk al-Falih, who attended the meeting, Riyadh, June 2003. 71. “Al-Sa‘udiyya: Munaqashat Sariha Hawla al-Ta‘addudiyya al-Madhhabiyya wa Hurriyat alTa‘bir wa Huquq al-Mar’a wa Muwajahat al-Ghuluw” [“Saudi Arabia: Sincere Discussions About Confessional Pluralism, Freedom of Speech, Women’s Rights and the Fight Against Extremism”], AlSharq al-Awsat, June 22, 2003. 72. “Saudis Announce First Elections,” www.bbc.co.uk, October 13, 2003; for the text of the governmental decree, “Nass Qirar al-Hukuma al-Sa‘udiyya bi-l-Intikhabat fi-l-Majalis al-Baladiyya” [“Text of the Saudi Government’s Decision to Hold Elections for Municipal Councils”], www.elaph.com, October 13, 2003. 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 363 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM 364 ✭ MIDDLE EAST JOURNAL the “Islamo-liberal issue” seems to have become a bone of contention among the ruling élite. CONCLUSION The emergence in Saudi Arabia of an “Islamo-liberal” trend, constituting a unitary reformist movement seeking a compromise between democracy and Islam, represents a significant evolution towards Post-Islamism,73 a phenomenon not unique to Saudi Arabia. Indeed, this movement may remind us of similar evolutions in other Islamic countries, such as, for instance, the efforts made in Egypt to found a Wasat party, aimed at unifying Islamists and Christians on an Islamo-democratic platform.74 However, there is, as we’ve seen, much more novelty in Saudi Islamo-liberal reformism. Indeed, while earlier Saudi reformist trends had focused primarily on political change, the new reform movement’s main characteristic is that it presents political reform as inseperable from religious reform. In other words, for Islamoliberal reformists, no democratic change may come about without a comprehensive revision of Wahhabi religious doctrine. This Islamo-liberal trend is therefore not only Post-Islamist, it might also be dubbed Post-Wahhabi. The first question that arises is the durability of such a heterogeneous movement. Indeed, one could assume that there is nothing more to the Islamo-liberal trend than the temporary agreement of various forces seeking political change on a minimalist platform. And it is true that some of the most delicate issues — the reform of the curricula and the place of women in Saudi society — have not been fully addressed and could become a bone of contention. What we have argued here, however, is that Islamo-liberal reformism, more than an opportunistic alliance, is the expression of a significant evolution within the Saudi intellectual field. This guarantees that it will show — unless subjected to very strong pressure — a good degree of resilience. The second question is the future of relations between the Crown Prince and the Islamo-liberals. ‘Abdallah has up to now shown support for their reformist and critical project. But will he be able to impose his views on his brothers, some of whom have very different opinions regarding this issue, at the risk of breaking the sacrosanct family consensus? And, in the end, is he really ready — as the Islamo-liberals demand — to found a new Saudi Arabia, based on the inclusive value of nation and not the exclusive one of Wahhabism? This would indeed mean transforming the traditional tribal-Wahhabi legitimacy of the Al Sa‘ud family into a modern nationalist one and 73. Gilles Kepel points at this phenomenon when he describes “the new orientation taken by those militants who now, in the name of democracy and human rights, are looking for common ground with the secular middle class. They have put aside the radical ideology of Qutb, Mawdudi, and Khomeini; they consider the jihadist-salafist doctrines developed in the camps of Afghanistan a source of horror, and they celebrate the “democratic essence” of Islam. Islamists defending the rights of the individual stand shoulder to shoulder with secular democrats in confronting repressive and authoritarian regimes.” Gilles Kepel, Jihad: the Trail of Political Islam, 2nd ed. (London: I.B. Tauris, 2002), p. 368. 74. See Joshua A. Stacher, “Post-Islamist Rumblings in Egypt: The Emergence of the Wasat Party,” Middle East Journal, Vol. 56, No. 3, (Summer 2002), pp. 414-432. 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 364 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM would imply a radical change of socio-political alliances. Such a move, in the current context of growing domestic instability, could be politically risky. 345-365mejLacroix5803.p65 365 7/8/2004, 5:58 PM 

Int. J. Middle East Stud. 39 (2007), 103–122. Printed in the United States of America DOI: 10.1017.S0020743806391064 Thomas Hegghammer and Stéphane Lacroix R E JE C T IO N IS T IS L A M IS M IN S A U D I A R A B IA : T H E S T O R Y O F JU H A Y M A N A L - ֒U T A Y B I R E V IS IT E D The storming of the Mecca mosque by Juhayman al-֒Utaybi and his fellow rebels in November 1979 represents one of the most spectacular events in the modern history of Saudi Arabia. Yet, it is one of the least understood. Even decades after the event, many important questions remain unanswered. Who were the rebels, and what did they want? Why and how did Juhayman’s group come into existence?1 What happened with the rebels and their ideas after the Mecca events? This article seeks to shed light on the story and legacy of Juhayman al-֒Utaybi with new information gathered from extensive fieldwork in Saudi Arabia and elsewhere. Whereas the details of the Mecca operation are relatively well known, the origin of the rebel group is shrouded in mystery.2 The existing literature on Juhayman’s movement is both sparse and contradictory. The interested student will find few in-depth studies of it in English.3 The Arabic-language literature on Juhayman is somewhat more extensive and has certainly been underexploited by Western academics, but many works suffer from inaccuracies and political bias.4 A key problem has been the absence of good primary sources, which has made it virtually impossible for historians to trace the origin and history of Juhayman’s movement in any significant detail. This changed in 2003, when Nasir al-Huzaymi, a former associate of Juhayman al-֒Utaybi, lifted the veil on his past and wrote a series of articles in the Saudi press about his experience as a member of Juhayman’s group.5 Al-Huzaymi had been active in the organization between 1976 and 1978 but left a year before the Mecca operation. He was caught in the police roundup after the event and spent eight years in prison. Al-Huzaymi has renounced his former Islamist convictions and now works as a journalist for the Saudi newspaper al-Riyadh. Al-Huzaymi is one of several former Islamist radicals in Saudi Arabia who, from the late 1990s onward, began speaking publicly about their experiences as activists.6 Although their emergence at this particular point in time was facilitated by the process of limited liberalization initiated by Crown Prince ֒Abdallah in 1999 and to some extent exploited by authorities as a counterbalance to conservative Islamist forces, it was by no means orchestrated by the state. These repentants had emerged gradually in independent Thomas Hegghammer is a PhD candidate at Sciences-Po Paris and Fellow at the Norwegian Defence Research Establishment, P.O. Box 25, Kjeller 2027, Norway; e-mail: thomas.hegghammer@ffi.no. Stéphane Lacroix is Fellow at Sciences-Po Paris, 27 rue St Guillaume, Paris 75007, France; e-mail: djahez@yahoo.com. © 2007 Cambridge University Press 0020-7438/06 $12.00 104 Thomas Hegghammer and Stéphane Lacroix communities and began speaking out before 9/11 or the 2003 terrorist campaign in Saudi Arabia. There are strong reasons to take al-Huzaymi’s testimony seriously. His account is descriptive, unflattering toward the authorities, and above all consistent with other key historical sources. The current article is based on a detailed reading of the available English- and Arabiclanguage literature about Juhayman, as well as on extensive fieldwork. During a series of research visits to Saudi Arabia and Kuwait, the authors of this article interviewed Nasir al-Huzaymi and several other former Saudi Islamists with in-depth knowledge of the Juhayman movement and phenomenon. By means of a generous intermediary, we obtained the testimony of a senior Medina-based cleric who was very close to Juhayman’s group in the 1970s and attended the Grand Mosque during the 1979 siege. We traced the anonymous authors of the main Arabic books about Juhayman al-֒Utaybi published in the early 1980s to identify and assess their primary sources.7 We also spoke to journalists who covered the Juhayman story in the Mecca area in 1979. During this two-year research process, we were able to collect the accounts of several individuals, in addition to Nasir al-Huzaymi, who were either part of Juhayman’s group or eyewitnesses to key events in the group’s history. Our article is divided into three parts. The first and most voluminous part is devoted to the history of Juhayman’s movement leading up to the storming of the Mecca mosque in 1979. In the second part, we will reflect on the nature of this movement and evaluate existing theories and interpretations of the phenomenon. Finally, we shall examine the ideological legacy of Juhayman al-֒Utaybi and his influence on subsequent radical movements in Saudi Arabia up to the present day. The article presents two central arguments. The first is that our research shows that the group that stormed the Mecca mosque in 1979 was a radicalized fraction of a much broader pietistic organization set up in Medina in the mid-1960s under the name of al-Jama֒a al-Salafiyya al-Muhtasiba (JSM), that is, the Salafi Group that Commands Right and Forbids Wrong. The second main argument is that the JSM and its radical offshoot, Juhayman’s Ikhwan (Brotherhood), were among the first manifestations of a particular type of Saudi Islamism that outlived Juhayman and has played an important yet subtle role in the shaping of the country’s political landscape until today. It is characterized by a strong focus on ritual practices, a declared disdain for politics, and yet an active rejection of the state and its institutions.8 This so-called “rejectionist Islamism” is intellectually and organizationally separate from the other and more visible forms of Saudi Islamist opposition such as the so-called “awakening” (al-Sahwa) movement or the Bin Ladin style jihadists.9 O P P O S IT IO N A N D IS L A M IS M IN S A U D I A R A B IA B E F O R E 1 9 7 9 There have been relatively few cases of violent opposition to the rule of the Al Sa֒ud since the foundation of the third Saudi state by ֒Abd al-֒Aziz bin Sa֒ud in 1902. The first and most violent was the so-called “Ikhwan revolt” of the late 1920s. The Ikhwan were bedouin from major Najdi tribes such as ֒Utayba and Mutayr who had been religiously indoctrinated and trained as a military force for use in the territorial expansion of the nascent Saudi state. When the expansion reached the border of territories controlled by the British colonial power, King ֒Abd al-֒Aziz called for an end to further military campaigns. The Ikhwan, who had already grown critical of ֒Abd al-֒Aziz because of Rejectionist Islamism in Saudi Arabia 105 his use of modern technology and interaction with Westerners, were outraged by the abandonment of jihad for reasons of realpolitik. Some of the Ikhwan leaders also had personal political ambitions that were thwarted by Ibn Saud.10 They refused to lay down their weapons and instead rebelled against their king. After a series of clashes, the bedouin fighting force, led by Sultan bin Bijad and Faysal Al Dawish, shaykhs of the ֒Utayba and Mutayr tribes, was crushed at the battle of Sbila in 1929. Ikhwan members who had remained loyal were later absorbed into the national guard. The 1950s and 1960s witnessed a few episodes of leftist and communist unrest in the kingdom, which reinforced the regime’s conviction that a reliance on religious forces was the best means of social control. The accession to the throne of the Pan-Islamist King Faisal in 1964 and the dynamics of the Arab Cold War further increased the budgets and the influence of the religious establishment and Islamic organizations in Saudi Arabia. This created a context favorable to the development of local brands of Islamism, from which later movements of political–religious opposition would emerge. At this time, two different types of Islamism developed in Saudi Arabia. One was pragmatic, political, and elitist and became known as the Islamic awakening (al-s.ah.wa al-Islāmiyya), or just the Sahwa. This represented the mainstream of the Saudi Islamist movement. On its margins emerged an isolationist, pietistic, and lower-class Islamist phenomenon, which can be termed “rejectionist” or “neo-Salafi.” From the 1960s to the 1990s, the two strains coexisted, representing relatively distinct ideological approaches and sociological phenomena, although the former remained politically and numerically more significant. The Sahwa developed primarily on university campuses after the arrival, from the late 1950s onward, of large numbers of members of the Muslim Brotherhood fleeing persecution in countries such as Egypt and Syria. These individuals—many of whom were academics or well-trained professionals—rapidly became the backbone of the newly established Saudi education and media sectors. It was partly through their impulse that the Sahwa gained momentum in Saudi universities in the 1970s and 1980s, before spearheading the reformist Islamist opposition of the early 1990s. Ideologically, the Sahwa represented a blend of the traditional Wahhabi outlook (mainly on social issues) and the more contemporary Muslim Brotherhood approach (especially on political issues). Politically, representatives of the Sahwa have sought to reform the state’s policies without ever straightforwardly questioning the state’s legitimacy.11 However, it is from the other Islamist strain—the rejectionist one—that Juhayman’s movement emerged in the 1970s. In 1961, the Islamic University of Medina had been set up under the leadership of Grand Mufti Muhammad bin Ibrahim Al al-Shaykh and the later well-known ֒Abd al-֒Aziz bin Baz.12 Both of them were eager to inspire a broader Wahhabi movement in the Hijaz, which for decades had enjoyed relative cultural and religious autonomy. They therefore encouraged their students to engage in proselytizing (da֒wa) and enforcement of religious laws (h.isba). These developments coincided with the arrival of new ideological influences on the Medinan religious scene, in particular that of Muhammad Nasir al-Din al-Albani (1914– 99). Al-Albani was a Syria-based scholar of Albanian origin who had been invited by ֒Abd al-֒Aziz bin Baz, then vice-president of the Islamic University of Medina, to teach there in 1961. Al-Albani had become famous in Syria for identifying himself with the medieval school of thought known as the ahl al-h.adı̄th (i.e., “the people of 106 Thomas Hegghammer and Stéphane Lacroix hadith”), which he claimed to revive. The ahl al-h.adı̄th had become known in the 8th century for opposing the use of reason in religious rulings, insisting that only the Sunna was to provide answers for matters not explicitly treated in the Qur֓an. Their scholars, therefore, developed a particular interest in the collection and the study of hadith. Of the four canonical law schools that were to emerge a century later, only the Hanbali school followed a strict ahl al-h.adı̄th line. The late Hanbalis, however, increasingly tended to imitate (taqlı̄d) former rulings by members of their school, instead of practicing their own interpretation (ijtihād) based on the Qur֓an and the Sunna. This was one of alAlbani’s main reproaches to the Wahhabis, who claimed ijtihād but tended to act as Hanbalis, and, therefore, as madhhabı̄s (i.e., those who follow a particular school of jurisprudence). Al-Albani, in return, rejected all the schools of jurisprudence, calling for direct and exclusive reliance on the Qur֓an and the Sunna. Another of his reproaches was that Wahhabis did not care enough about hadith. In return, he held his own views on the authenticity and readings of certain hadith, and, therefore, his rulings sometimes ran counter to well-established—and especially Wahhabi—beliefs, notably on ritual issues. In his well-known book Sifat salat al-Nabi (Characteristics of the Prophet’s Prayer), al-Albani presented several peculiar views on Islamic rituals, which raised controversy with other scholars. Some say these controversies led to his expulsion from Medina in 1963, although the exact circumstances of his departure are unclear. Al-Albani would nevertheless maintain a close relationship with the Saudi ulama throughout his life, particularly with Ibn Baz. The teachings of the charismatic al-Albani were to have a strong impact on the Saudi religious scene, not least because they formed the ideological basis for the pietistic organization from which Juhayman’s rebels would emerge, namely, al-Jama֒a al-Salafiyya al-Muhtasiba. A L -JA M A ֒A A L -S A L A F IY YA A L -M U H TA S IB A The group known as al-Jama֒a al-Salafiyya al-Muhtasiba took shape in Medina in the mid-1960s. It was formed by a small group of religious students who for some time had been proselytizing in the city’s poorer neighborhoods.13 Having been influenced by al-Albani, they were driven by a general conviction that mainstream schools and tendencies in the Muslim world at the time—including the official Wahhabism of the Saudi religious establishment—needed to be purified of innovations and misperceptions. They were also acting to counter the growing influence of other groups on the religious scene in early 1970s Medina, particularly Jama֒at al-Tabligh, but also the Muslim Brotherhood.14 Both of these aims—promoting a purified Wahhabism and providing an alternative to existing forms of Islamic activism—were shared by some of the most prominent religious scholars in Medina at the time, such as ֒Abd al-֒Aziz bin Baz and Abu Bakr al-Jaza֓iri.15 The founding members of the JSM developed personal contacts with these scholars and considered ibn Baz their shaykh. The formation of the JSM was prompted by an episode known among the members as “the breaking of the pictures” (taksı̄r al-s.uwar) which occurred in approximately 1965. The proselytizers had gradually come to see it as their duty to enforce religious obligations and regulations in certain parts of Medina. This included destroying pictures and photographs in public spaces. In the early 1960s, there was friction and even minor clashes in Medina between these zealous conservatives and local residents.16 This Rejectionist Islamism in Saudi Arabia 107 vigilantism went unnoticed or ignored until a group of young activists were caught smashing a large number of display windows showing female mannequins in the center of Medina. Having inflicted serious damage on commercial property, the perpetrators were arrested and imprisoned for approximately a week.17 This confrontation with the police inspired the main activists to intensify and coordinate their efforts. Not long after this incident, they decided to set up an organization under the name al-Jama֒a al-Salafiyya (the Salafi group). They approached Ibn Baz to ask for his approval. He greeted the initiative and suggested that they add the qualification al-muh.tasiba (“which practices h.isba”) to the name of their group.18 Ibn Baz thus became the official spiritual guide (murshid) of al-Jama֒a al-Salafiyya al-Muhtasiba and appointed Abu Bakr alJaza֓iri as his deputy.19 The JSM had no official executive leader but was governed by a consultative council (majlis al-shūrā) of five or six members, which included four of the founding members and al-Jaza֓iri. The group gradually stepped up its activities and attracted an increasingly large number of followers in Medina. In the early 1970s, they set themselves up in a purpose-built two-story building known as Bayt al-Ikhwan (House of the Brotherhood) located in the poor neighborhood of al-Hara al-Sharqiyya in Medina, an area known for the strict conservatism of its residents. Bayt al-Ikhwan became the natural assembly point and administrative center for the JSM, as well as a forum for daily classes and weekly conferences. It was administered by Ahmad Hasan al-Mu֒allim, a close friend of Juhayman and a Yemeni former student at the Islamic university. Over time, the JSM’s organizational structure became increasingly large and complex. Special administrative groups were set up to coordinate practical matters. One group (initially headed by Juhayman) specialized in organizing members’ travels, another in reception of guests, and a third in organizing trips to the villages for “wandering travelers” (al-musāfirūn al-jawwālūn) to preach and recruit new members.20 The JSM encouraged its adherents to set up similar communities in other cities around the kingdom. By 1976, the JSM had followers based in practically all major Saudi cities, including Mecca, Riyadh, Jidda, Taif, Ha֓il, Abha, Dammam, and Burayda. All branches had a local leader or contact person. Some branches, like the one in Mecca, were also based in purpose-built houses.21 To determine the socioeconomic profiles of JSM members, we asked al-Huzaymi to provide us with as much information as he remembered on members of the group. This, combined with other sources, allowed us to gather basic demographic data on thirty-five individuals, which enabled us to make a few important overall observations.22 First, it seems that most members were young, unmarried men. Some members did have families, but no women played any direct role in the organization. Adherents covered a relatively wide age span—from late teens to late forties—but the majority seem to have been in their mid 20s. Second, most JSM members came from marginalized or discriminated backgrounds. Many were recently urbanized young men with a badawı̄ (translated as bedouin23 ) background.24 Historically, tribes have largely been considered the losers of the Saudi modernization process, both in political terms (at the collective level) and in economic terms (at the individual level).25 Other JSM members were residents of foreign origin (with and without Saudi citizenship), mostly from Yemen.26 It is no secret that foreigners have long suffered a degree of social and political, if not necessarily economic, discrimination in Saudi society.27 The refusal of JSM members, for ideological reasons, 108 Thomas Hegghammer and Stéphane Lacroix to take government positions often contributed to their marginalization. They were, therefore, often described by outside observers at the time as “unemployed,” “shop assistants,” or “students.”28 Ideologically, the JSM was initially focused on moral and religious reform, not on politics. In its view, Islam had been corrupted by the introduction of reprehensible innovations (bid֒a) in religious practice and by society’s deviation from religious principles. They advocated a return to a strict and literal reading of the Qur֓an and hadith as the sole source of religious truth, and they rejected imitation (taqlı̄d) of all subsequent scholars, including scholars that are revered in the Wahhabi tradition, such as Ibn Hanbal, Ibn Taymiyya, and Ibn ֒Abd al-Wahhab. The JSM nevertheless held al-Albani in very high esteem and organized teaching or lecture sessions with him whenever he came from Jordan to Mecca on pilgrimage.29 They also had links to the Pakistani Ahl-e Hadith through Shaykh Badi֒ al-Din al-Sindi, a Pakistani scholar based in Mecca who was one of the JSM’s main religious references. There were also contacts between the JSM and the Egyptian Salafi group Ansar al-Sunna al-Muhammadiyya (Supporters of Muhammad’s Tradition), whose monthly magazine, al-Tawhid, was widely read among JSM members and whose shaykhs would lecture at Bayt al-Ikhwan during their trips to Medina.30 The JSM’s literal reading of religious texts led to an extreme social conservatism and to a rejectionist attitude toward many aspects of modernity. For example, they opposed the use of identity cards and passports because these denoted loyalty to an entity other than God. They were against images of living beings, not only on television and in photography but also on coins. More significantly, the JSM had peculiar views on ritual and prayer, which set the group apart from other religious communities at the time. They shared many of the interpretations presented by al-Albani in his book Characteristics of the Prophet’s Prayer.31 For example, they argued that the condition for breaking the fast during Ramadan was not the setting of the sun but the disappearance of sunlight, hence fast could be broken during Ramadan in a room with closed windows. They considered it permissible to pray while wearing sandals, which caused a certain amount of friction with fellow worshippers in the Prophet’s Mosque in Medina. Bayt al-Ikhwan, therefore, contained a mosque where the group’s adherents could worship according to their own peculiar practices. Unlike other mosques, it contained no niche (mih.rāb), because the JSM considered this an innovation (bid֒a). The unorthodox practices of the JSM worried Medina scholars who had initially been sympathetic to the group. Muqbil al-Wadi֒i, one of the JSM shaykhs, recalls being summoned by two senior Medina-based scholars, ֒Atiyya Salim and ֒Umar Falata, who questioned him on “twelve issues” which they deemed problematic.32 The relations reached breaking point in the late summer of 1977, when a group of senior ulama led by Abu Bakr al-Jaza֓iri—Ibn Baz had already left Medina at this point—visited Bayt al-Ikhwan in the hope of convincing the members to relinquish their practices. They held a meeting on the roof, during which Shaykh al-Jaza֓iri clashed with the hard-line Juhayman al-֒Utaybi.33 The meeting ended with a split in the JSM: a minority—including most of the historical leaders of the group—declared their loyalty to al-Jaza֓iri and left Bayt al-Ikhwan, whereas a majority—comprising the youngest and most hotheaded members—rallied around Juhayman and insisted on continuing their work. Muqbil alWadi֒i recounts how he tried to mediate, unsuccessfully, between the two factions. Al-Wadi֒i writes that Juhayman was being extremely distrustful and openly accused fellow JSM members—including founding members of the group, such as Sulayman Rejectionist Islamism in Saudi Arabia 109 al-Shtawi—of being police informers.34 After the rooftop episode, Juhayman was left as the only senior person and the natural leader of the smaller and radicalized JSM. From then on, Juhayman’s name became synonymous with the organization, and he and his followers simply referred to themselves as ikhwān (brothers). J U H AY M A N ’S IK H W A N When Juhayman bin Muhammad bin Sayf al-֒Utaybi rose to the fore as an Islamist leader in the mid-1970s, he was already in his forties. However, many questions remain about his early life. What we do know is that he was born in the early or mid 1930s to a bedouin family in the Ikhwan settlement (hijra) of Sajir in the western part of the Najd region. Juhayman’s family belonged to the Suqur branch of the large ֒Utayba tribe. The young Juhayman was raised in a very traditional bedouin environment. His grandfather, Sayf al-Dhan, was a horseman who participated widely in bedouin raids before the emergence of the Saudi state under King ֒Abd al-֒Aziz.35 Contrary to claims by some historians, Juhayman’s grandfather was not involved in the Ikhwan revolts. According to al-Huzaymi, it was Juhayman’s father, Muhammad bin Sayf, who fought beside the rebel leader Sultan bin Bijad. Muhammad survived the battle of Sbila in 1929 and lived until 1972. Juhayman was proud of his father’s exploits and was keen to evoke the memory of the old Ikhwan to his comrades in the JSM.36 Juhayman left school very early. Al-Huzaymi says Juhayman himself admitted having completed only the fourth year of primary school. The widespread rumors of his illiteracy seem to be at least partially true. Al-Huzaymi says he never saw Juhayman write— and that the latter’s spoken classical Arabic was poor and colored by bedouin dialect. The so-called “letters of Juhayman” were dictated to a friend acting as a scribe, alHuzaymi says. However, as Joseph Kechichian has rightly pointed out, Juhayman was clearly not illiterate, given his command of religious literature and his authorship of several works in classical Arabic.37 A likely explanation is, therefore, that Juhayman was dyslexic, in other words academically and linguistically able but uncomfortable with writing. Juhayman spent the bulk of his working life in the national guard. By most accounts, he joined in 1955 and left in late 1973, although he may have left earlier.38 His reasons for leaving the guard are unclear; some sources say he left voluntarily whereas others suggest that he was dismissed in humiliating circumstances. After leaving, he moved to Medina, yet again for unknown reasons. Lacking formal school qualifications, Juhayman never enrolled in the Islamic University of Medina, as many historians have suggested. However, he did attend classes for a period at Dar al-Hadith, an old institution specializing in the teaching of hadith, which is affiliated with the University of Medina. It was during that time that he joined the JSM. Juhayman rose to prominence in the JSM primarily because of his charisma, age, and tribal pedigree. It was particularly his readiness to openly criticize the ulama that drew the admiration of younger members of the organization.39 After the rooftop episode and the split in the JSM, Juhayman would come to dominate the group to the extent that, according to al-Huzaymi, Juhayman’s Ikhwan had many of the traits of a personality cult. The young members competed for Juhayman’s favor and were socially ranked according to their relationship with and proximity to the leader. Juhayman in return punished those who dared to argue with him by ignoring them, which left them socially excluded from the group.40 110 Thomas Hegghammer and Stéphane Lacroix In December 1977, shortly after the rooftop episode, the authorities, who had received reports of the group’s radicalization through former members, decided to take action.41 Police planned to raid Bayt al-Ikhwan and arrest Juhayman along with his associates. However, Juhayman received a tip-off about the coming raid some hours in advance by a police insider from the tribe of ֒Utayba.42 Juhayman left Bayt al-Ikhwan immediately with two aides, one of whom was Nasir al-Huzaymi. He sought refuge in the desert, where police jurisdiction was weaker and his bedouin allies more numerous than in the cities. Juhayman stayed in the desert for almost two years, and he was not seen in public again until the seizure of the Great Mosque in Mecca. Meanwhile, around thirty people in Medina were arrested and imprisoned for six weeks under accusation of weapons possession. In the days that followed, leading Juhayman associates in other cities were also detained, although in smaller numbers.43 During these two years, Juhayman led a peripatetic life in the northern desert regions, in a triangle-shaped area between Ha֓il, Burayda, and Hafr al-Batin. He was accompanied at any given time by a small entourage of three to five people, but he maintained contact with the rest of his followers. The police were continuously on his trail, and there are many anecdotes about Juhayman’s secret ventures into inhabited areas. Shortly after his escape into the desert, Juhayman wanted to visit his mother in his hometown of Sajir but was prevented from doing so at the last minute when he received a tip-off that the police were keeping her under surveillance. At one stage, Juhayman suffered from a toothache, and after a long and painful wait, his aides managed to find a dentist who would not inform the authorities. Meanwhile, secret meetings for his followers were held in remote locations on a regular basis, although usually without Juhayman being present.44 After the police crackdown on Bayt al-Ikhwan, Juhayman no longer had a forum in which to gather followers and communicate his ideas. Juhayman’s desert existence, therefore, marked the starting point of his ideological production. He started recording his ideas on cassette tapes and in pamphlets. None of the tape recordings is available today, but his pamphlets have survived.45 They offer important insights into his thinking. However, there has been much confusion about the total number, exact titles, and real authorship.46 Although these pamphlets are commonly referred to as the “letters of Juhayman,” only eight of them were actually signed by him, and, as he was uncomfortable with writing, these had been dictated to his associates Muhammad al-Qahtani (the future Mahdi) and Ahmad al-Mu֒allim, who transcribed them. It now seems clear that there are twelve letters in total and that they were published in batches of one, seven, and four. One is signed by al-Qahtani, one by a certain Yemeni named Hasan bin Muhsin al-Wahidi and two by ah.ad .talabat al-֒ilm (one of the seekers of knowledge), a pseudonym used by another Yemeni called Muhammad al-Saghir.47 Of interest, the letters were printed in Kuwait by the leftist newspaper al-Tali֒a (the Vanguard), whose owners were sympathetic to what they interpreted as a potential working-class uprising in the Hijaz. A Kuwaiti JSM member named ֒Abd al-Latif alDirbas had used his family connections to negotiate a deal with the leftist publisher. He then coordinated the transport and distribution of several thousand copies of Juhayman’s pamphlets across Saudi Arabia. Nasir Al-Huzaymi, who participated in the distribution of the first letter in Mecca, recalls several anecdotes regarding the publishing process. For example, the name of al-Tali֒a press had accidentally been printed on the front page of each copy and had to be removed with scissors. Another problem emerged when the Rejectionist Islamism in Saudi Arabia 111 remarks from Shaykh Ibn Baz—to whom Juhayman had secretly presented the text for approval—arrived only after the text had been printed. Hence, Ibn Baz’s remarks had to be manually rubber-stamped onto each and every copy.48 The first letter was distributed in several cities simultaneously on 31 August 1978.49 The group of texts known as “the seven letters” was printed shortly afterward and distributed during the hajj in November 1978. A few months later came another group of four letters.50 The “seven” and the “four” letters were also presented to Ibn Baz, who allegedly agreed with their content, except for the fact that they specifically targeted Saudi Arabia.51 Their distribution angered the regime, which ordered new arrests within the JSM. Among the individuals targeted was Muqbil al-Wadi֒i, who was accused of being their author. He was released after three months and expelled to Yemen afterward.52 The letters were not only circulated across Saudi Arabia but also in Kuwait, where the JSM gathered a relatively large following. A good indication of its growing presence in Kuwait is the fact that ֒Abd al-Rahman ֒Abd al-Khaliq, the leading figure of the mainstream Salafi movement in the Emirate, wrote a series of articles in the Kuwaiti newspaper al-Watan in late 1978 refuting Juhayman’s ideas.53 It is also worth noting that, on the day of the storming of the Mecca mosque, some of Juhayman’s letters were distributed in Kuwaiti mosques.54 Juhayman’s letters are written in a relatively monotonous religious language and do not reveal a particularly clear political doctrine. In the most political of his letters, “The State, Allegiance and Obedience” (“al-imara wa-l-bay֒a wa-l-ta֒a”), Juhayman accused the Saudi regime of “making religion a means to guarantee their worldly interests, putting an end to jihad, paying allegiance to the Christians (America) and bringing over Muslims evil and corruption.” He added that in any case, the Al Sa֒ud’s non-Qurayshi origin (i.e., not descendants from the Prophet Muhammad’s tribe) excluded them from the right to Islamic leadership. This led him to the conclusion that the bay֒a (oath of allegiance) that unites Saudis to their rulers is invalid (bāt.ila) and that obeying them is no longer compulsory, especially on those very issues where their behavior and orders contradict God’s word. He, therefore, called for his followers to keep away from state institutions by resigning if they were civil servants or by leaving school or university if they were still students. He warned, however, that pronouncing takfı̄r (excommunication) upon rulers is prohibited as long as they call themselves Muslims. He thus differentiated between the state as an institution—which he deemed illegitimate and un-Islamic—and individual members of the government—whom he refused to excommunicate. Likewise, Juhayman was extremely critical of the official religious establishment as an institution, but he was more careful in expressing opinions about specific scholars such as Ibn Baz. On a more doctrinal level, Juhayman revived several important concepts from the writings of hardline Wahhabi scholars from the 19th century such as Sulayman bin ֒Abdallah al-Shaykh and Hamad bin ֒Atiq.55 The first concept was that of millat Ibrahı̄m (the community of Abraham), which is an allegory for the true Islamic community which has disassociated from all forms of impiety. The second was awthaq ֒urā al-imān (the strongest bonds of faith), meaning the links that unite Muslims with each other and impose on them mutual solidarity. Both concepts converged in the principle of alwalā֓ wa-l-barā֓ (allegiance to fellow Muslims and dissociation from infidels), which Juhayman made the defining principle for correct Islamic behavior. 112 Thomas Hegghammer and Stéphane Lacroix Another important element in Juhayman’s ideology is that of the coming of the Mahdi, the Islamic equivalent of the Messiah. The first of his “seven letters” is devoted entirely to this theme.56 This text presents all the authentic hadiths about the Mahdi, correlating them with recent events in the modern history of the Arabian Peninsula to demonstrate the imminence of the Mahdi’s coming. In the same pamphlet, he wrote that “we have dedicated all our efforts to this issue for the past eight years.”57 According to al-Huzaymi, the issue of the Mahdi had indeed been talked about in the JSM all along, but it only became a central part of Juhayman’s discourse in mid 1978, after his escape into the desert. In late 1978, Juhayman declared that it had been confirmed to him in a dream that his companion Muhammad al-Qahtani was the Mahdi.58 One of the reasons why al-Qahtani was identified as such was that he possessed several of the Mahdi’s attributes as described in the corresponding hadiths. First, he was called Muhammad bin ֒Abdallah, as was the Prophet. Second, he claimed to belong to the ashrāf, the Prophet’s lineage.59 Third, his physical appearance was allegedly in conformity with the descriptions of the Mahdi in religious tradition.60 The designation of al-Qahtani created a second major split in the organization. Many members, including Nasir al-Huzaymi, were unconvinced by the messianic talk and left the movement for good. It was this remaining core of Juhayman’s followers who carried out one of the most spectacular operations in the history of militant Islamism, the seizure of the Great Mosque in Mecca. On 20 November 1979, the first day of the 15th century of the Islamic calendar, a group of approximately 300 rebels led by Juhayman al-֒Utaybi stormed and seized control of the great mosque in Mecca, the holiest place in Islam. Their aim was to have al-Qahtani consecrated as the Mahdi between the black stone corner of the Ka֒ba (al-rukn al-aswad) and Ibrahim’s station of prayer (al-maqām) as tradition requires. The militants barricaded themselves in the compound, taking thousands of worshippers hostage and awaiting the approach of a hostile army from the north, as promised by the eschatological tradition.61 The situation developed into a two-week siege that left a hitherto unknown number of people dead and exposed serious gaps in the Saudi crisis-response capability. The timing of the attack was most likely determined by Juhayman’s belief in the Sunni tradition of the “renewer of the century” (mujaddid al-qarn), according to which a great scholar will appear at the beginning of each hijrῑ century.62 Juhayman may have attempted to blend the renewer tradition with the Sunni mahdist tradition and thus concluded that the dawn of the new century was a propitious moment to consecrate al-Qahtani as the Mahdi.63 The Mecca rebellion was thus entirely unrelated to the Shi֒i uprising, which occurred almost simultaneously in the Eastern Province.64 However, the occurrence of two internal uprisings in the space of a few months in 1979, as well as key international events such as the Iranian Revolution and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, certainly affected the outlook of the Saudi political leadership. Nasir al-Huzaymi, who had extensive conversations in prison with surviving rebels, says that Juhayman’s group had begun collecting weapons in late 1978, approximately a year before the attack. The main coordinator of weapons acquisition was Muhammad al-Qahtani’s brother Sa֒id. He bought arms from Yemeni smugglers with money raised by wealthier members of the group. In the months preceding the attack, they conducted weapons training on various locations in the countryside outside Mecca and Medina.65 The rebels knew in advance that their operation might turn into a siege, and they, therefore, placed approximately a week’s worth of food supplies (dried milk, dates, and Rejectionist Islamism in Saudi Arabia 113 bread) in the basement of the mosque complex shortly before the operation. Many also brought radios, expecting to hear news of the approach and subsequent engulfment of the hostile army from the north as promised by tradition. Al-Huzaymi’s account also describes a rebel group perplexed by the death of Muhammad al-Qahtani already on the third day of the siege. Some started having second thoughts, while others obeyed Juhayman’s orders not to acknowledge al-Qahtani’s death. Even years after the events, some JSM followers continued to believe that the Mahdi was still alive.66 On 4 December 1979, Saudi authorities regained control of the sanctuary with the assistance of three French special-forces officers led by Captain Paul Barril. The rebels were tried and sentenced with lightning speed. At dawn on 9 January 1980, sixtythree people were executed in eight different cities around the kingdom. The list of convicts, which had been published two days earlier in the Saudi press, included fortyone Saudis, ten Egyptians, six South Yemenis, three Kuwaitis, a North Yemeni, an Iraqi, and a Sudanese.67 However, the people executed do not necessarily represent the most prominent members in Juhayman’s organization, but rather the individuals who fought most fiercely in the final stages of the siege and survived. Al-Huzaymi explains that prisoners underwent a quick medical examination to determine who would be executed. Those with bruises or pains in their shoulders were assumed to have fired upon the security forces and were punished by death. Those not executed received long prison sentences. Saudi police also arrested a large number of people across the kingdom who had been involved with the JSM or Juhayman’s Ikhwan at some stage. Those who escaped arrest (or were released early) sought refuge in a variety of locations. Many went abroad, particularly to Kuwait but also to Yemen. Others sought a quiet existence in Riyadh or in conservative cities in the Najd, such as al-Zulfi and al-Rass.68 The bedouins who had helped Juhayman were largely unaffected by the crackdown, and many of them are still present in the northern desert regions. Within a few months of the Mecca event, Juhayman’s organization had been almost completely dismantled, at least in Saudi Arabia. The Kuwaiti branch of the movement survived and remained active until the end of the 1980s, albeit in a form closer to the original JSM than to Juhayman’s Ikhwan.69 The Mecca event shook the regime, which was concentrating its political control on leftist groups and never expected its foes to come from religious circles. It decided, however, that only a reinforcement of the powers of the religious establishment and its control on Saudi society would prevent such unrest from happening again. Ironically, it was the other main Islamist current, the more institutionally integrated the Sahwa, which benefited from these new policies and grew stronger throughout the 1980s until it openly confronted the regime in the early 1990s. IN T E R P R E T IN G J U H AY M A N ’S M O V E M E N T Juhayman’s movement has been the subject of a significant number of analyses, some of them outwardly political, others overly simplistic. One explanation, heard particularly— but not only—from Saudi officials at the time, is that Juhayman’s movement was the product of foreign ideological influences, mainly from Egyptian groups such as Shukri Mustafa’s Jama֒at al-Muslimin (Society of Muslims), commonly known as al-Takfir wa-l-Hijra (Excommunication and Emigration). These claims relied in part on the fact that many of the people arrested after the event were Egyptian citizens, as were ten of the 114 Thomas Hegghammer and Stéphane Lacroix sixty-three executed rebels. It is indeed beyond doubt that there were Egyptian al-Takfir wa-l-Hijra members in Saudi Arabia in the mid-1970s.70 However, al-Huzaymi insists that the Egyptian element in the JSM was negligible and that most of the arrested Egyptians had joined the rebellion immediately before the seizure of the mosque. He admits that in 1976–77 there were a handful of individuals in the JSM who held takfı̄rı̄ positions, but they changed their minds after Shaykh al-Albani sat down with them during one of his visits to Medina and convinced them otherwise.71 The most important foreign ideological influence on the JSM came not from Egyptian extremist groups but from al-Albani’s ahl al-h.adı̄th school of thought. If the JSM had contact with foreign organizations, it was primarily the Pakistani Ahl-e Hadith and the Egyptian Ansar al-Sunna al-Muhammadiyya, both of which are apolitical, nonviolent movements. Hence these foreign contacts do not in any way explain the political radicalization and activism of Juhayman, whose movement must be understood primarily as a domestic Saudi phenomenon. Among the interpretations of the Mecca episode found more often in academic literature is the view that Juhayman’s rebellion was essentially a modern replay of the 1920s Ikhwan revolt.72 The memory of the original Ikhwan certainly had an influence on Juhayman, who liked to tell his father’s stories at JSM gatherings. There are also a few references to the early Ikhwan in Juhayman’s letters, for example when he writes, “We wish to clear of all suspicions our ‘Ikhwan’ brothers who conducted jihad in the name of God and were faithful to it, while this State and its evil scholars presented them as Kharijites, to the extent that one can now find people to whom the issue is so unclear that they don’t even ask God to grant them His mercy.”73 However, many of the JSM’s members were not bedouin, and many among the bedouin in the JSM did not come from tribes that were prominent in the first Ikhwan revolt. It would, therefore, be far too simplistic to explain Juhayman’s rebellion as a resurgence of old tribal grievances against the Al Sa֒ud. Restoring the honor of the first Ikhwan was only one minor aspect of the group’s message. Despite their reactionary positions, the JSM and Juhayman’s Ikhwan were essentially a modern phenomenon to be understood within the context of 1970s Saudi Arabia, a society undergoing rapid socioeconomic change and a steady process of politicization. Another frequently heard explanation is that Juhayman and his followers were apocalyptics who had drifted so far in their belief in the Mahdi that they had lost their sense of political rationality. It seems relatively clear now that Juhayman’s personal belief in the Mahdi was genuine and that this was indeed a major factor behind the takeover of the Mecca mosque. At the same time, Nasir al-Huzaymi insists that some of Juhayman’s companions did not believe in the messianic dimension of his ideology. These individuals chose to stay because they felt a strong sense of loyalty to the charismatic Juhayman and to the group or because they were convinced of other aspects of the ideology, such as the need for a religious and moral purification of society.74 Moreover, reducing Juhayman’s Ikhwan to a messianic sect would ignore the political dimension of Juhayman’s discourse as well as the question of why this movement gathered such strength at this particular point in time. It seems, then, that we need to understand Juhayman’s group as being simultaneously messianic and political. A last interpretation, favored by the Arab left at the time of the attack, is that the Mecca event represented a “people’s rebellion,” in which the disenfranchised Saudi working class rose up against the rich Saudi elite. Days after the event, the Arab Socialist Labour Rejectionist Islamism in Saudi Arabia 115 Party in the Arabian Peninsula expressed its support for the rebels. Shortly afterward, Nasir al-Sa֒id, the historic leader of the Arabian Peninsula People’s Union, described the attack as part of a “people’s revolution” aimed at establishing a republic and adopting democratic freedoms.75 He claimed that fighting had been going on in other places, such as Tabuk, Medina, Najran, and parts of Najd—a version of the events adopted by Alexei Vassiliev, among others.76 Al-Sa֒id’s allegation seemed so well informed that it caught the attention of Saudi authorities, and on 17 December 1979 he mysteriously disappeared in Beirut, never to reappear. Today, it is clear that his claims were not true.77 However, the leftists were to some extent right in pointing out that the rebels were for the most part poor and disenfranchised. As noted earlier, Juhayman’s Brotherhood, as the JSM before it, drew most of its members from the politically, economically, and socially marginalized sections of Saudi society, particularly recently sedentary nomadic tribes and residents of foreign origin. As we have seen from this discussion, there is no simple explanation for the emergence of Juhayman’s movement. A first and important step in the analysis is to distinguish between the JSM on the one hand and Juhayman’s Brotherhood on the other. The emergence of the JSM seems to be linked to three important societal changes in Saudi Arabia in the 1960s and 1970s. The first was the slow but steady push toward increased social conservatism from a religious establishment that sensed that it was losing its grip on an increasingly liberal society. The second was the arrival of new ideological currents that provided alternatives to the established political and religious order. The third was the socioeconomic tensions resulting from Saudi Arabia’s rapid modernization process. As for the emergence of Juhayman’s Brotherhood, it seems to have followed a classic pattern of group radicalization, whereby a small faction breaks out of a larger and more moderate organization after a process of politicization and internal debate. After the break, the behavior of the radicalized faction is more determined by ideology and charismatic leadership than by structural socioeconomic and political factors. J U H AY M A N ’S L E G A C Y It has long been assumed that Juhayman al-֒Utaybi and his movement represent an exceptional and rather short-lived phenomenon whose influence on the subsequent history of Saudi Islamism has been rather limited. However, as we shall see, there are many indications that the memory of Juhayman has been kept alive in certain Islamist circles until today and that his ideology has inspired periodic attempts at reviving his movement. Most prominent among Juhayman’s intellectual heirs is Abu Muhammad al-Maqdisi (aka ֒Isam Barqawi, b. 1959), a radical Islamist ideologue of Palestinian origin who grew up in Kuwait. In the early 1980s, he started frequenting Islamist circles in Kuwait, where he came in contact with the local JSM branch, whose ranks had swelled with the arrival of remnants of the Saudi JSM in 1980.78 He became friends with Juhayman’s former associate ֒Abd al-Latif al-Dirbas, who had come back from Saudi Arabia after being released from prison.79 In 1981 or 1982, al-Maqdisi went to Medina to study religion, during which time he made many contacts with former Juhayman sympathizers across the kingdom. Al-Maqdisi’s writings were heavily influenced by Juhayman’s ideology and contained numerous references to Juhayman.80 However, al-Maqdisi was more radical than 116 Thomas Hegghammer and Stéphane Lacroix Juhayman on several issues. Most notably, al-Maqdisi did not hesitate to pronounce takfı̄r upon Muslim rulers. In 1989, he wrote a book, al-Kawashif al-jaliyya fi kufr al-dawla al-Sa֒udiyya (The Obvious Proofs of the Saudi State’s Impiety), in which he praised Juhayman, while adding that “unfortunately, he [Juhayman] considered that rebelling against these rulers, whatever they may do, . . . is contrary to the Sunna. . . . Very unfortunately, he considered this government to be Muslim.”81 Abu Muhammad al-Maqdisi did not remain with the JSM for long as he kept arguing with them over the issue of takfı̄r. Instead, he went to Peshawar in 1985 to join the Arab– Afghan community, and he subsequently became one of the leading ideologues of the so-called Salafi-Jihadi movement. However, he preserved his admiration for Juhayman, and in the late 1980s he traveled regularly to Saudi Arabia, where he paid visits to former friends of Juhayman in the Saudi desert.82 In the early 1990s, al-Maqdisi left Peshawar and settled in Jordan, where he became the spiritual leader of a Jordanian militant community. He was imprisoned in 1995 but has continued to write from his cell. Recently, al-Maqdisi has attracted much attention for his open criticism of his former pupil Abu Mus֒ab al-Zarqawi’s activities in Iraq. The early 1990s witnessed a revival of Juhayman’s ideas in certain Islamist circles in Saudi Arabia. The authors of the current article learned of the existence of a small community of young Saudi Islamists in Riyadh in the early 1990s who saw themselves as the continuation of Juhayman’s movement.83 The community had taken shape around a core of three or four individuals in their early twenties who considered society in general, and state education in particular, corrupt.84 They had broken with their families and set themselves up in an apartment in the Shubra area of al-Suwaydi district in Riyadh where they could study religion on their own. Their apartment, which aimed at recreating Juhayman’s Bayt al-Ikhwan, was known as Bayt Shubra, and it soon became a meeting place for like-minded youth. Although only five to ten people lived there at any one time, many more attended informal lessons or dropped by for discussion and socializing. The residents of Bayt Shubra did not consider themselves part of an organization, but rather “seekers of religious knowledge” (t.alabat ֒ilm). In their view, this knowledge could not be found among the shaykhs of the religious establishment, whom they considered corrupt, nor among the leaders of the Sahwa, whom they saw as too political. Instead they looked to the writings of Juhayman, al-Maqdisi, and 19th-century Wahhabi theologians such as Sulayman bin ֒Abdallah Al al-Shaykh. The residents of Bayt Shubra greatly admired Juhayman and saw themselves as his ideological successors. Because none of them was old enough to have known Juhayman personally, they sought out former members of the JSM in various parts of the country, particularly among the bedouin in the desert.85 They also invited former JSM members in Riyadh to lecture in Bayt Shubra. Abu Muhammad al-Maqdisi himself visited the apartment during one of his visits to Saudi Arabia.86 The Bayt Shubra residents adopted the JSM’s extreme social conservatism, strong emphasis on ritual matters, as well as its skepticism toward the state and its institutions. Juhayman’s mahdist ideas, however, do not seem to have been particularly important in Bayt Shubra, although some of its residents did accept those ideas and continued to believe that the Mahdi had not died in 1979. Over time, however, the Bayt Shubra community grew more and more interested in politics, and its members would eventually take more radical positions than Juhayman Rejectionist Islamism in Saudi Arabia 117 on several questions. Although the Bayt Shubra community was initially inward looking and apolitical, it was unable to avoid the political–religious debates of early 1990s Saudi Arabia, a time when the confrontation between the state and the Sahwa was at its most intense. The process of politicization introduced several disagreements, first (in 1992) on the issue of takfı̄r of the royal family and later (around 1994) regarding takfı̄r of the religious establishment. Eventually, the Bayt Shubra network split into several factions, each of which went its own way. The involvement of some former Bayt Shubra members in the 1995 Riyadh bombings led police to try to arrest the entire network. A few members managed to escape and found shelter with the very bedouin they had earlier gotten to know through their fascination with Juhayman. The others were marked by prison experience in different ways: some became more radical (several of them subsequently went to Afghanistan) whereas others began a process of soul-searching and went on to become liberal intellectuals. Bayt Shubra was just one of many similar study circles that emerged throughout the kingdom at the time. Although these groups remained relatively marginal compared with the Sahwa—which was at its climax at this point—their very existence provides two significant new insights about Islamism in Saudi Arabia in the early 1990s. First, the ideology and example of Juhayman still had a significant appeal among young Saudis ten years after the Mecca event, and second, the Sahwa did not have a monopoly on the Islamist field. The Bayt Shubra residents shunned the Sahwa leaders (whom they saw as too interested in politics) and sought knowledge and inspiration from a different intellectual tradition. Among these communities, Bayt Shubra is historically the most interesting because many of its residents later became well-known figures. Some became prominent liberal writers, such as Mishari al-Dhayidi and ֒Abdallah al-֒Utaybi, whereas others made names as militants. Bayt Shubra’s alumni include three of the four people convicted for the November 1995 Riyadh bombing as well as some of the senior militants involved in the terrorist campaign launched in 2003.87 C O N C L U S IO N : J U H AY M A N A L - ֒U TAY B I A N D “ R E J E C T IO N IS T IS L A M IS M ” IN S A U D I A R A B IA The study of Juhayman’s legacy has shown that the influence of Juhayman on the development of Saudi Islamism is greater than generally assumed. Moreover, it has allowed us to trace the origins and the development of a particular intellectual tradition within Saudi Islamism, which categorically rejects the legitimacy of the state and its institutions and which advocates withdrawal from the state’s sphere. This intellectual tradition may be termed “rejectionist Islamism.” Saudi rejectionist Islamism bears some similarity to other Islamist groups characterized by a withdrawal from society (such as Shukri Mustafa’s Jama֒at al-Muslimin in Egypt), but it is first and foremost a Saudi phenomenon to be understood within the dynamics of the Saudi political–religious landscape. Although the JSM and the Bayt Shubra network have no doubt been two of the most visible and politicized manifestations of this strain of Islamism, related communities have existed—and still exist—in Saudi Arabia.88 Identifying a rejectionist strain in Saudi Islamism also makes it easier to distinguish it from the better known phenomenon of “reformist Islamism,” as exemplified by the Sahwa. The Sahwa consisted of prominent academics well integrated into the system, 118 Thomas Hegghammer and Stéphane Lacroix whereas the rejectionists attract the marginalized and avoid state education and employment altogether. They also clearly differ in their attitude toward the state: Sahwa Islamists such as Salman al-֒Awda never openly question the state’s legitimacy, only criticizing (although sometimes with virulence) its policies, which they strive to change through nonviolent, institutional means. The 1980s witnessed the emergence of a third strain of Saudi Islamism: jihadism, which has its roots in the participation of thousands of Saudi youth in the Afghan jihad against the Soviet Union. The jihadists developed a highly militaristic culture that set them apart from other Islamist currents. They were also explicitly interested in politics, which rejectionists were not. However, Saudi jihadists were initially politicized and radicalized on issues of international politics, not on issues of domestic politics, like their counterparts in other Arab countries. In 1990, Saudi jihadists were not openly critical of the Saudi state. In the first half of the 1990s, jihadists and rejectionists started to mix, as was the case in the Bayt Shubra community. Although they represented two different cultures— rejectionists being men of introspection and jihadists being men of action—their views converged on many important issues. Most importantly, they influenced each other, as many rejectionists became more interested in politics whereas the jihadists adopted the rejectionists’ strong distaste for the Saudi state. By the late 1990s, many rejectionists had joined the jihadists and left for Afghanistan or elsewhere. By the early 2000s, the growing polarization of the Saudi Islamist field between reformists and jihadists left little room for the rejectionists. Juhayman’s intellectual legacy had effectively been eclipsed—but the memory of his rebellion was more in vogue than ever. NOTES Authors’ note: The authors thank Gilles Kepel, Bernard Haykel, Greg Gause, Brynjar Lia, Steffen Hertog, Nabil Mouline, and the anonymous IJMES referees for their comments on earlier drafts of this article. 1 There are several reasons why we have used Juhayman and not al-֒Utaybi on second reference. First is convention—most academic articles we have seen use his first name. The convention itself stems from the fact that most Saudis refer to him by his first name. This is partly because Juhayman is an uncommon name, whereas al-֒Utaybi is very common. 2 For a reliable and updated account of the siege, see Lawrence Wright, The Looming Tower: Al-Qaeda and the Road to 9/11 (New York: Knopf, 2006), 88–94. 3 The main works on the history of Saudi Arabia mention Juhayman only in very brief terms; see, for example, Alexei Vassiliev, The History of Saudi Arabia (London: al-Saqi, 2000), 395–97; Madawi al-Rasheed, A History of Saudi Arabia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 144–46. A few English-language academic books and articles have dealt with the phenomenon in somewhat more detail, but most of them are based on secondary sources in Arabic; see James Buchan, “The return of the Ikhwan-1979,” in David Holden and Richard Johns, The House of Saud: The Rise and Rule of the Most Powerful Dynasty in the Arab World (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1981), 511–26; Ayman al-Yassini, Religion and State in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia (Boulder, Colo.: Westview, 1985), 124–27; R. Hrair Dekmejian, Islam in Revolution: Fundamentalism in the Arab World (Syracuse, N.Y.: Syracuse University Press, 1985), 133–7; Nazih Ayubi, Political Islam (London: Routledge, 1994), 99–104; Joshua Teitelbaum, Holier than Thou: Saudi Arabia’s Islamic Opposition (Washington, D.C.: Washington Institute for Near East Policy, 2000), 19–21. Perhaps the only Western study to make systematic use of primary sources is Joseph Kechichian’s excellent 1990 article on Juhayman’s letters; see Joseph A. Kechichian, “Islamic Revivalism and Change in Saudi Arabia: Juhayman al-֒Utaybi’s ‘Letters to the Saudi People,’ ” The Muslim World 70 (1990): 1–16; see also Kechichian, “The Role of the Ulama in the Politics of an Islamic State: The Case of Saudi Arabia,” International Journal of Middle East Studies 18 (1986): 53–71. Rejectionist Islamism in Saudi Arabia 119 4 Perhaps the most well-known work is that of Rifat Sayyid Ahmad entitled Rasa֓il Juhayman al-֒Utaybi, ֓ qa id al-muqtahimin li-l-Masjid al-Haram bi-Makka (The Letters of Juhayman al-֒Utaybi, Leader of the Invaders of the Sacred Mosque in Mecca) (Cairo: Madbuli, 2004). A Saudi leftist militant has produced a long and interesting work under the pseudonym Abu Dharr; see Abu Dharr, Thawra fi rihab Makka (Revolution in the Mecca Precinct) (Kuwait: Dar Sawt al-Tali֒a, 1980). The text was first published in the leftist opposition magazine Sawt al-Tali֒a, 21, April 1980, under the name “Ahdath al-Haram bayna al-haqa֓iq wa-l-abatil” (The Haram Events, between Truth and Lies). The London-based Saudi Shi֒ite opposition has produced several interesting works: Intifadat al-Haram (Uprising in the Sanctuary) (London: Munazzamat al-Thawra al-Islamiyya fi al-Jazira al-Arabiyya, 1981), which the organization first published in its magazine before turning it into a book; as well as Zilzal Juhayman fi Makka (Juhayman’s Earthquake in Mecca) (n.p., 1986), signed by a certain Fahd al-Qahtani, a pseudonym for Hamza al-Hasan, a Shi֒ite opposition figure based in London. Another work is ֒Abd al-֒Azim al-Mat֒ani, Jarimat al-֒asr: Qissat ihtilal al-Masjid al-Haram: riwayat shahid ֒iyan (The Crime of the Age: Eyewitness Account of the Occupation of the Sacred Mosque) (Cairo: Dar al-Ansar, 1980). 5 See al-Riyadh, 10 June 2003; al-Riyadh, 18 June 2003; al-Riyadh, 9 May 2004; al-Riyadh, 6 September 2004. See also articles by Mishari al-Dhayidi in al-Sharq al-awsat, 24 and 25 February 2004; and Adil al-Turayfi in al-Riyadh, 10 and 13 March 2004. 6 Stéphane Lacroix, “Saudi Arabia’s Islamo-Liberal Reformists,” Middle East Journal 58 (2004): 345– 65. 7 This enquiry revealed, for example, that Hamza al-Hasan based Zilzal Juhayman fi Makka on interviews with two former members of the JSM other than al-Huzaymi. Another finding is that Abu Dharr (author of Thawra fi rihab Makka) is not the pseudonym of an Islamist commentator as previously believed (Kechichian, “Islamic Revivalism,” 12), but an old nom de guerre of a leftist activist linked to the Saudi Ba֒th party. According to Hamza al-Hasan, Abu Dharr’s insights stem from the fact that he was based in Iraq and had access to Iraqi intelligence sources; interview with Hamza al-Hasan, London, February 2006. 8 In this article, “Islamism” is understood in a very broad sense as “Islamic activism” directed at either the state or society. 9 See Stéphane Lacroix and Thomas Hegghammer, Saudi Arabia Backgrounder: Who Are the Islamists? (Brussels: International Crisis Group, 2004). 10 Vasiliev, The History of Saudi Arabia, 272. 11 Lacroix and Hegghammer, Saudi Arabia Backgrounder. 12 ֒Abd al-֒Aziz bin Baz (1909–99), grand mufti of Saudi Arabia from 1993 until his death in 1999, became one of the most respected figures of the Wahhabi religious establishment in the late 20th century. 13 The founding members included Sulayman al-Shtawi and Sa֒d al-Tamimi. Interviews with Nasir alHuzaymi, Riyadh, April 2004 and April 2005. 14 The Jama֒at al-Tabligh (usually known as Tabligh or Tablighi Jama֒at) is a pietistic and apolitical missionary organization founded in India in the late 19th century. Although it was quite popular among Saudi youth in the 1970s, the senior shaykhs of the religious establishment reproached it for not subscribing entirely to the Wahhabi creed (they regarded the Tablighis as “Sufis”). 15 Abu Bakr al-Jaza֓iri (literally “the Algerian”) was born in 1921 in south Algeria, where he frequented religious circles close to shaykh ֒Abd al-Hamid bin Badis, before leaving the country in 1952 to settle in Saudi Arabia. He worked as a professor at the Islamic University of Medina from its foundation in 1961 until his retirement in 1986. He is known in Salafi circles to have been close to the Tabligh, which could explain the interest he found in a grass-roots proselytizing and pietistic movement such as the JSM. For his biography, see Muhammad al-Majdhub, ֒Ulama֓ wa mufakkirun ֒araftuhum—al-juz֓ al-awwal (Scholars and Thinkers I have Known—Part One) (Cairo: Dar al-I֒tisam, 1986). 16 Interview with Saudi Islamist, Riyadh, November 2005. 17 Al-Huzaymi says that there were in fact two separate episodes referred to by JSM members as “the breaking of the pictures.” The second incident occurred in the mid-1970s, when JSM members were arrested for breaking pictures of the newly crowned King Khalid. 18 Ibn Baz’s position on this matter can probably be explained by mainstream Salafism’s traditionally negative attitude toward the creation of parties, organizations, or groups, which are considered as fragmenting the community, and, therefore, as a means for sedition (fitna). The only exception is the groups of mut.awwa֒un (often described as Saudi Arabia’s religious police), who are seen as putting into practice the Qur֓anic injunction of al-amr bi-l-ma֒rūf wa-l-nahῑ ֒an al-munkar (commanding right and forbidding wrong), a function also 120 Thomas Hegghammer and Stéphane Lacroix called h.isba; see Michael Cook, Commanding Right and Forbidding Wrong in Islamic Thought (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001). 19 It must be emphasized here that the JSM emerged as a perfectly legal pietistic movement which, according to al-Huzaymi, actually produced documents with its name printed on the letterhead. Ibn Baz’s involvement should, therefore, not be interpreted as an unholy alliance with a clandestine Islamist opposition group. 20 See al-Riyadh, 9 May 2004. 21 Al-Huzaymi, interview. 22 Al-Huzaymi’s information is unique because until recently the only available source on the rebels’ profiles was the list of names and nationalities of the sixty-three rebels executed in January 1980, published in the Saudi press at the time. This list has two significant limitations: first, it does not allow us to distinguish between a badawı̄ and a qabalı̄ nor between foreigners with and without Saudi citizenship. Second, the list is likely to include individuals who joined the rebels immediately before the attack and who were not necessarily longtime followers of Juhayman. In contrast, al-Huzaymi was able to provide us with substantial information on the background of individuals whom he personally met during is time as a JSM member in Medina or as a prisoner. 23 The term badawı̄ (pl. badū) usually refers to members of bedouin tribes who “recently” became sedentary, in most cases at the time of the 1920s Ikhwan and after. A badawı̄ is distinguished from a qabalı̄ (tribal), who is basically a h.ad.arı̄ (sedentary) with a tribal genealogy. Among the h.ad.ar (sedentaries), the qabalı̄ is himself distinguished from the khad.ı̄rı̄, who has no tribal genealogy. 24 Of thirty-five individuals, we have fifteen badū in total (i.e., 43 percent): five Harbi, five Shammari, three ֒Utaybi, one Tamimi, and one unknown. The relatively high number of individuals from Harb and Shammar compared to that of ֒Utayba should not surprise the reader as al-Huzaymi was mainly based in Medina, which is closer to these two tribes’ territory. The presence of these individuals also proves that the ֒Utayba was only one of many badū elements in Juhayman’s Ikhwan. 25 Steffen Hertog, “Segmented Clientelism: The Politics of Economic Reform in Saudi Arabia” (PhD diss., Oxford University, 2006). 26 Nine (i.e., almost 25 percent) of the thirty-five people described by al-Huzaymi were of foreign origin. Six had a Yemeni background, and one was from the Saudi–Yemeni border region of Najran. Al-Huzaymi’s sample also includes a Saudi of Egyptian origin and a Saudi of Iranian origin. The Yemenis in particular featured prominently in the movement. Muqbil al-Wadi֒i was considered one of their main scholars, Ahmad al-Mu֒allim administered Bayt al-Ikhwan, and Yusuf Bajunayd was a key financial contributor. 27 In Saudi Arabia, the relationship between social background on the one hand and socioeconomic status on the other is a complex one. Individuals of foreign descent may be socially and politically marginalized but are not necessarily economically disadvantaged. (Yusuf Bajunayd, a wealthy Saudi of Yemeni origin who funded Juhayman’s group, is a case in point.) Conversely, badū may enjoy a high social status but remain economically weak. 28 Al-Yassini, Religion and State, 125. 29 Al-Huzaymi recalls his visit to a tent camp in Mina outside Mecca during the hajj in early December 1976. The tent housed around 250 people, most of whom were JSM members. Al-Albani and Juhayman were in close contact. Al-Albani would hold many lectures over consecutive days. 30 The Ahl-e Hadith is an Islamic revivalist movement founded in Bhopal, India, in the mid-19th century. It puts great emphasis on the study of hadith and rejects all schools of jurisprudence. Ansar al-Sunna alMuhammadiyya was founded in Egypt in 1926 by Muhammad Hamid al-Fiqqi, a Salafi scholar heavily influenced by the teachings of Ibn Taymiyya. Both Ahl-e Hadith and Ansar al-Sunna al-Muhammadiyya have maintained strong links to Saudi Arabia and the Wahhabi religious establishment throughout the 20th century. 31 Muqbil al-Wadi֒i writes that, although they did follow many of al-Albani’s views, they also differed with him on a small number of issues; See Muqbil al-Wadi֒i, al-Makhraj min al-fitna (Sanaa, Yemen: Maktabat San֒a al-Athariyya, 2002), 140. 32 Al-Wadi֒i, al-Makhraj min al-fitna, 140. 33 The details and significance of the rooftop meeting have been confirmed and corroborated by several independent sources; al-Wadi֒i, al-Makhraj min al-fitna; al-Huzaymi, interview; and Nabil Mouline’s interview (in Mecca in April 2005) with a senior Wahhabi shaykh who attended the meeting. 34 Al-Wadi֒i, al-Makhraj min al-fitna, 141. 35 Al-Sharq al-awsat, 24 and 25 February 2004. 36 Al-Huzaymi, interview. See also al-Sharq al-awsat, 24 and 25 February 2004. Rejectionist Islamism in Saudi Arabia 37 Kechichian, 121 “Islamic Revivalism and Change in Saudi Arabia,” 11. al-Haram, 35–39. 39 Al-Huzaymi, interview. 40 Al-Riyadh, 18 June 2003. 41 After failing to get the JSM to renounce their controversial practices, the senior scholars alerted the authorities and allegedly started falsely accusing the JSM of possessing weapons and preparing a coup; al-Huzaymi, interview; al-Wadi֒i, al-Makhraj min al-fitna, 141. 42 Al-Huzaymi, interview. 43 In Riyadh, for example, four or five people were arrested, including Muhammad al-Qahtani (the future Mahdi) and Muhammad al-Haydari (head of the JSM Riyadh branch). 44 Al-Huzaymi recalls a general meeting for the remaining members, held in the desert along the Qasim road between Riyadh and Sudayr a few weeks after the first arrests. According to al-Huzaymi, the meeting was attended by approximately eighty people. 45 Tape recordings of Juhayman were circulating in Islamist circles in Saudi Arabia at least as late as the early 1990s. 46 Kechichian, “Islamic Revivalism and Change in Saudi Arabia.” 47 Al-Huzaymi, interview. 48 Juhayman himself claimed that Ibn Baz had found “nothing wrong in it.” See “Da֒wat al-ikhwan” (“The Call of the Ikhwan”), quoted by al-Qahtani, Zilzal Juhayman fi Makka, 28. 49 Al-Huzaymi, interview. He took part personally in the distribution. 50 The first letter was entitled “Raf֒ al-iltibas ֒an millat man ja֒alahu Allah imaman li-l-nas” (“Clarification about the Community of Whom God Has Made a Guide for the People”); the group of seven pamphlets was entitled “al-Rasa֓il al-sab֒” (“The Seven Letters”). The group of four bore the title “majmu֒at rasa֓il al-imara wa-l-tawhid wa-da֒wat-al-ikhwan wa-l-mizan li-hayat al-insan” (“Group of the Letters ‘The State,’ ‘The Unity of God,’ ‘The Call of the Brotherhood,’ and ‘The Scale for the Life of Man’ ”); Abu Dharr, Thawra fi rihab Makka, 113. 51 “Da֒wat al-ikhwan,” quoted in al-Qahtani, Zilzal Juhayman fi Makka, 37. 52 Muqbil al-Wadi֓i, Tarjamat Abi ֒Abd al-Rahman Muqbil bin Hadi al-Wadi֒i (Sanaa, Yemen: Dar al-Athar, 2002), 27. 53 Telephone interview with ֒Abd al-Rahman ֒Abd al-Khaliq in Khalid Sultan’s office, Kuwait, May 2005. Some of these early refutations have later been collected in a book by ֒Abd al-Khaliq entitled Al-Wala֓ wa-l-bara֓ (Loyalty and Dissociation). 54 Interviews with Khalid Sultan and Isma֒il al-Shatti, Kuwait, May 2005. 55 Their writings were compiled in the early 20th century in an influential book known as al-Durar al-saniyya fi-l-ajwiba al-Najdiyya (The Glittering Pearls of the Najdi Answers). 56 “Al-Fitan wa akhbar al-Mahdi wa nuzul ֒Isa ֒alayhi al-salam wa ashrat al-sa֒a” (“Turmoil and the Reports of the Mahdi and the Coming of Jesus—Peace Be Upon Him—and the Portents of the Last Hour” [i.e., Judgment Day]). 57 Ahmad, Rasa֓il Juhayman al-֒Utaybi, 209. 58 According to al-Huzayimi, al-Qahtani had been imam at the small al-Ruwayl mosque in Riyadh, and was one of the founding members of the JSM’s Riyadh branch. 59 Muhammad al-Qahtani claimed that his ancestor, a sharῑf (pl. ashrāf ), had come from Egypt with Muhammad ֒Ali’s army in the early 19th century and had settled in one the villages inhabited by the members of the tribe of Qahtan, therefore, becoming a “Qahtani by alliance.” 60 “The Mahdi is from me—he has a wide forehead and a hooked nose,” Sunan Abu Dawud, 36, 4272. 61 “Disagreement will occur at the death of a caliph and a man of the people of Medina will come flying forth to Mecca. Some of the people of Mecca will come to him, bring him out against his will and swear allegiance to him between the rukn and the maqām. An expeditionary force will then be sent against him from Syria but will be swallowed up in the desert between Mecca and Medina. When the people see that, the eminent saints of Syria and the best people of Iraq will come to him and swear allegiance to him between the rukn and the maqām,” Sunan Abu Dawud, 36, 4273. 62 See, for example, Ella Landau-Tasseron, “The cyclical reform: A study of the mujaddid tradition,” Studia Islamica 70 (1989). 63 The authors thank Professor Berhard Haykel for this analysis. 38 Intifadat 122 Thomas Hegghammer and Stéphane Lacroix 64 Toby Craig Jones, “Rebellion on the Saudi Periphery, Modernity, Marginalization and the Shia Uprising of 1979,” International Journal of Middle East Studies 38 (2006): 213–33. 65 A British journalist stationed in Saudi Arabia at the time says he interviewed a Saudi farmer in December 1979 who said he had observed a group of ragged men firing weapons in a field outside Mecca in November 1979; Interview with James Buchan, London, February 2006. 66 Al-Huzaymi, interview. 67 Abu Dharr, Thawra fi rihab Mecca, 125. 68 Al-Sharq al-awsat, 6 April 2005. 69 Among the prominent Kuwaiti JSM members at the time were Jabir al-Jalahma, who subsequently became a prominent jihadist figure; ֒Abdallah al-Nafisi, one of the most influential Islamist thinkers in Kuwait; and Khalid al-֒Adwa, who later joined the mainstream Salafi current and became a member of parliament. 70 Al-Riyadh, 19 and 26 May 2003; Gilles Kepel, Muslim Extremism in Egypt (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003): 89. 71 Al-Huzaymi, interview; al-Wadi֒i, al-Makhraj min al-fitna, 141. 72 See, for instance, Ahmad, Rasa֓il Juhayman al-֒Utaybi, 62–63. 73 Ibid, 84. 74 A separate incident narrated by al-Huzaymi illustrates this sense of loyalty. When ֒Abdallah al-Harbi, a former JSM member who did not believe in the Mahdi and had left the group, heard the news of the storming of the Mecca mosque, he decided to organize the storming of the Medina mosque to diminish the pressure on Juhayman and his followers. However, he was shot by police at a checkpoint on his way to Sajir to gather followers for his project. 75 One possible explanation for these declarations is that the Saudi leftist opposition tried to take advantage of the political situation to regain the visibility it had lost since the late 1960s. 76 Nasir al-Sa֒id in al-Dustur, quoted in MERIP Report 85 (1980): 17. 77 Abu Muhammad al-Maqdisi, for instance, writes that he received confirmation from former JSM members that there was no broader plan, and no operations in other cities. See Abu Muhammad al-Maqdisi, “al-Kawashif al-jaliyya fi kufr al-dawla al-Sa֒udiyya” (“The Obvious Proofs of the Saudi State’s Impiety”), 197, available at www.tawhed.ws 78 See al-Maqdisi’s 1998 interview with the Islamist magazine Nida֓ al-Islam, available at www.tawhed.ws 79 Al-Maqdisi later married the sister of al-Dirbas’ wife. See al-Sharq al-awsat, 15 May and 7 July 2003. 80 See in particular “Millat Ibrahim” [“Abraham’s Creed”] from 1984 (available at www.tawhed.ws), in which he adopts and further develops Juhayman’s doctrinal system, and “I֒dad al-qada al-fawaris bi-hajr fasad al-madaris” (“Preparing Shrewd Leaders by Abandoning the Corruption of the Schools”) from 1989 (available at www.tawhed.ws), in which al-Maqdisi reiterates Juhayman’s rejection of state education and employment. 81 Al-Maqdisi, al-Kawashif al-Jaliyya, 198. 82 Interview with ֒Abdallah al-֒Utaybi, Riyadh, April 2004. 83 Interview with Mishari al-Dhayidi, Jedda, June 2003. Interviews with ֒Abdallah al-֒Utaybi and unidentified Saudi former Islamist, Riyadh, April 2004. 84 The leadership core included Mishari al-Dhayidi and ֒Abdallah al-֒Utaybi. They have subsequently become outspoken liberals and prominent writers. 85 Bayt Shubra residents were primarily in contact with bedouins in northwestern Najd, whom they accessed through a Pakistani former member of JSM who lived in the town of al-Rass. Interview with Saud al-Sarhan, Riyadh, April 2004. 86 Interview with unidentified Saudi former Islamist. 87 Ibrahim al-Rayyis and Saud al-֒Utaybi had frequented Bayt Shubra regularly. ֒Abd al-֒Aziz al-Muqrin had visited once or twice. Interview with al-֒Utaybi. See also al-Sharq al-awsat, 9 December 2003 and 6 April 2005. 88 Just outside the city of Burayda, a community known as “the ikhwān of Burayda” (brotherhood of Burayda) lives in near isolation from the society around them. They do not interact with the state and refuse to adopt modern technologies such as electricity, cars, or telephones. There were similarities and even direct links between the JSM and the ikhwān of Burayda. Another ultraconservative and isolationist community is found in the neighborhood called hayy al-muhājirı̄n in the Najdi city of Zulfi.