The question facing Muslims today is not whether Tasawwuf belongs to Islam’s past but whether Islamic life can remain whole without the inward sciences that once provided it balance, beauty and a spiritual-ethical anchor. In this sense, the story of Sufism’s marginalization is also the story of how the heart was taken out of Islamic civilization. The question is: Is renewal possible in a body without a heart? - Image The Collector

 

How the Heart Was Taken out of Islamic Civilization

By Dr Nazeer Ahmed
Concord, CA

For a thousand years (800-1800 CE), tasawwuf (Tazkiyatun Nafs, Tazkiyatul Qalb) served as the heartbeat of Islamic civilization. It was the age that produced the intellectual giants of Islam – ibn Sina, al Gazzali, ibn al Arabi, al Baruni, Mo’eenuddin Chishti, Nasiruddin al Tusi, ibn Shatir, to name but a few. It also produced the Mathnawi of Rumi, the ghazals of Amir Khusroe, the blue mosque of Istanbul, the exquisite domes of Isfehan and the Taj Mahal of Agra.

During this period, religion was understood not just as a collection of rules and regulations but as a living moral and spiritual reality that animated individual ethos as well as the collective life of the community. Classical Islamic thought articulated this vision through the well-known ḥadīth of Jibrael(as), which defined religion as consisting of three inseparable dimensions: Islām, outward submission and practice; Īmān, faith with conviction; and Eḥsān, spiritual excellence—the worship of God with the consciousness of divine presence and witness of moral beauty.

These dimensions were not alternatives or competing paths. Together, they formed a single, integrated understanding of what it meant to live as a Muslim, a tripod support of Islam-Iman-Ehsan. The Shariah disciplined action, theology clarified belief, and spirituality refined the heart. When any one of these dimensions weakened, the balance of the whole was disturbed and the tripod toppled over.

What is Tasawwuf

The word “Tasawwuf” is of historical origin. Linguistically, it has its origin in “suf” (wool) and refers to the woolen cloak of Prophet Muhammed (pbuh) knit by the hands of Fatimat uz Zahra (ra). Hence it connotes knitting together the disparate threads of existence into an integrated whole. Some others see the origin of Tasawwuf in “Ahl as Safa” the group of Sahaba who lived in the veranda of the Prophet’s house and followed him wherever he went and whatever he did, practicing the Qur’anic edict: “If you love Allah, then follow me”.(Q 3:31)

Tasawwuf took roots as the systematic cultivation of Eḥsān. Its concern was neither speculative metaphysics nor the pursuit of miracles but the transformation of the inner self: the purification of the heart (tazkiyat al-qalb), the disciplining of the ego (tazkiyatun nafs), and the cultivation of virtues such as love, sincerity, humility, patience, contentment, courage and gratitude. Sufism addressed the questions that law and doctrine alone could not fully answer: how to transform the Self and become inwardly truthful before God.

The Early Moral Vision of Sufism

The earliest Sufi figures—among them al-Ḥasan al-Baṣrī (642-728CE), Ibrāhīm ibn Adham (720-779 CE), and Junayd of Baghdad (830-909 CE)—were deeply rooted in the Qurʾān and the Sunnah of the Prophet. Their teachings emphasized moral accountability, fear tempered by hope, constant self-examination, and vigilance against hypocrisy. They spoke not from the margins of Islam but from its moral core.

For these early Sufis, religion was not merely ritual but a transformation of the Self (“Allah does not change the condition of a people until they change what is within their own Selves”. Q 13:11). Worship without sincerity, knowledge without humility, and piety without compassion were all regarded as spiritual failures. This emphasis on inward truth gave Islam its ethical anchor and spiritual resonance. Rabia al Adawiya (717-801 CE) exemplified it in her person.

Sufism and Orthodoxy

Later portrayals of Sufism as opposed to the Shariah or theology distort the historical record. In reality, Sufism developed within Sunni orthodoxy. Many of Islam’s most authoritative scholars combined jurisprudence, theology, and spirituality without perceiving any contradiction.

No figure illustrates this more clearly than Imam al-Ghazālī (1058-1111 CE). Trained as a jurist and theologian, al-Ghazālī reached the conclusion that legal and theological mastery, while necessary, were insufficient to cure pride, ambition, and self-deception. His personal spiritual crisis led him to Sufism—not as an escape from Islam but as its completion. His monumental Iḥyāʾ ʿUlūm al-Dīn (circa 1100 CE) sought to restore the balance by reintegrating law, belief, and spirituality into a single ethical vision.

Far from being marginal, Sufism provided the ethical infrastructure and served as the spiritual backbone of Islam. By the end of the “golden age” of Islam (1000-1200 CE), association with a Sufi path had become a normal feature of Muslim life for both the ulema and the‘Amma. Sufi lodges (zawiyas, ribaats, khankhas) served as centers of learning, charity, mediation, and moral formation.

It must be emphasized that Tasawwuf always remained firmly grounded in the Shariah and successfully fought off the intellectual forays from Hellenism of the West as well as the self-mortification and abnegation of the East.

Sufism as a Civilizational Shock Absorber after the Mongol Deluge

The thirteenth-century Mongol invasions marked one of the greatest catastrophe in Islamic history. Cities such as Bukhara, Samarkand, Nishapur, and Baghdad were devastated. Scholars were killed, libraries destroyed, and long-standing political and religious institutions collapsed. For many Muslims, it was the end the world they had known and cherished.

In this moment of profound civilizational trauma, Sufism played a decisive stabilizing role. With dynasties shattered and institutions in ruins, Sufi networks provided stability and continuity. Their lodges became places of refuge, moral reconstruction, and spiritual renewal in a landscape marked by devastation and uncertainty.

Equally significant was Sufism’s role in the conversion of the Mongols themselves. Rather than confronting Mongol rulers with legal formalism or political demands, Sufi shaykhs engaged them through ethical examples, piety, and spiritual vision. Figures such as Najm al-Dīn Kubrā and later Central Asian Sufi lineages presented Islam as a path of moral discipline and inner transformation.

By the late thirteenth century, Mongol elites across Persia, Central Asia, and the Russian steppes had embraced Islam—not primarily through conquest or legal enforcement but through sustained Sufi influence. Prominent among those who were converted were Baraka Khan and Gazan, both grandchildren of Genghiz Khan. In this sense, Sufism functioned as a civilizational shock absorber and transformed devastation into renewal.

Sufism and the Global Spread of Islam

Sufism was the principal means through which Islam spread peacefully across much of the world.

In Pakistan, India and Bangladesh, Islam took root largely through Sufi saints such as Khwaja Muʿeenuddin Chishtī (1141-1236 CE) and the Suhrawardī, Chishti and Naqshbandī orders. Their emphasis on social justice, ethical conduct, selfless service, compassion for the downtrodden and adaptation to local cultures allowed Islam to speak to diverse populations without coercion. Multan and Lahore in Pakistan, Ajmer and Delhi in India, Dhaka and Sylhet in Bangladesh became Sufi centers, home to great Sufi sages, radiating their grace throughout the subcontinent. They laid the foundation of a cosmopolitan pluralistic culture enriching human civilization with new forms of art, architecture, poetry, ecstatic music, etiquette and governance.

In Indonesia and Malaysia, Sufi traders and scholars integrated Islamic teachings with local cultures. The Wali Songo (1419-1568 CE) of Indonesia offers an example. The world’s largest Muslim population emerged in the East Indies not through empire or conquest but through patient spiritual engagement.

Across western and sub-Saharan Africa Sufi orders such as the Qādariyya and Tijāniyya spread Islam through education, trade, and moral example. The Mu’llams of Nigeria traveled from hamlet to hamlet spreading the message of Tawhid. They structured social life, mediated disputes, and fostered literacy and devotion.

In Southeastern Europe, Sufi orders centered around Zawiyas softened Ottoman political domination with spiritual authority, embedding Islam within a Christian matrix.

In all these regions, Islam spread not as an abstract legal system but as a lived ethical and spiritual path exemplified by Sufi teachers.

Eighteenth Century Shift

From the eighteenth century onward, a profound shift began to take place. Reform movements emerged that sought to restore what they perceived as the purity of early Islam. The movement of Shaykh Abdel Wahab of Najd (1703-1792 CE) offers an example. While motivated by sincere concern, these movements increasingly emphasized direct textual (Qur’an and Hadith) engagement and expressed suspicion toward inherited spiritual traditions.

Religious legitimacy came to rest more narrowly on explicit textual citation. Forms of knowledge rooted in moral formation, experiential insight, and symbolic language—hallmarks of Sufism—were treated with skepticism. What had been cultivated through centuries of discipline and character refinement was dismissed as speculative or unnecessary.

The reformist preoccupation with bidʿa, shirk and kufr further accelerated this process. Practices long accommodated within Sunni jurisprudence—such as supplication through the righteous and visiting tombs for Ibrat (soulful lessons) reflection—were condemned without careful historical distinction. Excesses were conflated with principles; abuse was mistaken for essence.

Tasawwuf was not refuted through sustained engagement with its classical literature, but sidelined through generalization.

Colonialism and the Dismantling of Islamic Institutions

European colonial expansion accelerated this transformation. The colonial powers sought to weaken any institutional or spiritual tradition that could challenge their hegemony. Many of the resistance movements to colonialism were spearheaded by Sufi orders. Examples were the Qadariya Tariqa in Algeria, the Sanusiya Tariqa in Libya, the Naqshbandi Tariqa in Dagestan and the Dervishes of Bundelkhand in India.

Muslim reformers, responding defensively to colonial critique, often sought to present Islam as a rational legal-moral system compatible with modern progress. Jamaluddin Afghani(1839-1897 CE) and Mohammed Abduh(1849-1905) fall into this category. In this apologetic posture, Sufism appeared anachronistic—too inward looking, too slow. It came to be portrayed as a relic of a pre-modern past. It was then easy to shift the blame for the global ethical decay in the Muslim body-politic on Tasawwuf.

At the same time, colonial and post-colonial states viewed Sufi orders with suspicion. Their transregional loyalties, structural resilience and moral authority competed with centralized state power. Sufi institutions were regulated, marginalized, or dismantled, and religious authority was increasingly bureaucratized. The social spaces that had once nurtured spiritual formation steadily disappeared.

Internal Decay and Ideological Stagnation

In the civilizational regression that characterized the colonial period, Sufism itself went through internal decay. By the late pre-modern era (circa 1900 CE), some institutions had grown stagnant, hereditary, or anti-intellectual. Excesses and commercialization provided reformers with visible targets. Where once the Zawiyas were home to sages like Baba Fareed of Lahore, they were now occupied by self-serving mujawars and sajjada-nasheen, wielding broomsticks and extracting payments from solicitous visitors.

Yet such degeneration was neither universal nor uncontested. Reformist Sufis—from al-Ghazālī to Ahmad Sirhindī of the Punjab and Shah Waliullah of Delhi—had long emphasized the need to ground spirituality in law, ethics, and discipline. The failure lay not in Sufism’s principles but in the pervasive decay of ethics in the Muslim body-politic and the overarching corruption of colonial rule.

In the twentieth century, Islamist movements completed the U-turn from taqwa to fatwa. Their focus on political sovereignty, legal reform, nationalism and mass mobilization subordinated inward transformation to outward structural change. Classical Islam’s insistence that internal moral reform precedes social justice was quietly inverted.

What Have We Lost?

The modern rejection of Tasawwuf reflects more than theological disagreement. It marks a transformation in how Muslims understand religious knowledge, authority, and purpose as well as how they relate to nature and natural science. Islam has increasingly been narrowed down to rules, regulations, doctrines, national and identity politics leaving many believers outwardly observant but spiritually bankrupt.

Historically, Sufism softened law, balanced justice with mercy, restrained knowledge with humility, and grounded political and material power with ethics. It provided a moral compass for man’s interaction with nature and with fellow man. Its eclipse has left a moral, ethical and spiritual vacuum that legal exactitude and political activism cannot fill.

The question facing Muslims today is not whether Tasawwuf belongs to Islam’s past but whether Islamic life can remain whole without the inward sciences that once provided it balance, beauty and a spiritual-ethical anchor. In this sense, the story of Sufism’s marginalization is also the story of how the heart was taken out of Islamic civilization. The question is: Is renewal possible in a body without a heart?

(The author is Director, World Organization for Resource Development and Education, Washington, DC; Director, American Institute of Islamic History and Culture, CA; Member, State Knowledge Commission, Bangalore; and Chairman, Delixus Group.)