Introduction
The question of masculinity was all the rage before October 7th. The internet was rife with brutal gender wars, podcasts on either “side” engaging in pitch battles, leaving fields drenched in the blood of lost iman and wasted time. After 10/7, however, Muslims were suddenly reminded of what really matters: the lives, livelihoods, and religion of their fellow believers.
That doesn’t mean that the question of masculinity was ever solved. On the community level, young boys trying to find their way are still uniquely lost as to what it means to be a man. If conservative pundits go viral for asking college professors “what is a woman,” the lives of the average young man is still spent trying to find the answer to the question “what is a man?”
One of the most profound answers to this question doesn’t come from today – rather, it comes from almost a hundred years ago by the most influential and important Muslim intellectual of the last 200 year, ʿAllāmah Muhammad Iqbāl. I’ve written a short introduction about Iqbāl and his importance before, so I won’t repeat it here, but suffice it to say that he is the man whose thought helped inspire almost every major Muslim socio-political movement after him.
While podcast bros debate the correct physique of a Muslim man, Iqbāl, as the single-most important Muslim philosopher since Shah Walī Allah, is far more interested in how Islam as a complete theological, legal, political, and social paradigm manifests itself in the person of the believer. To Iqbāl, the revival of the ummah begins with the revival of the Muslim person; and the Muslim has to embody the entirety of Islam in order to revive the entirety of Islamic civilization in any meaningful way.
In this way, Iqbāl’s Muslim man is a theological, legal, political, and social force; he is Muslim in his thought, Muslim in his actions, Muslim in his politics, and Muslim in his character and priorities. While later Islamists construed Islam as a static universal system, Iqbāl thought of Islam as a series of dynamic, continuously evolving consequences that reverberate from lā Ilāha illā Allah. To put it simply, Islam is a series of universal principles – how those principles manifest themselves in particular terms is entirely contextual.
Two years before his death in 1938, Iqbāl wrote his socio-political manifesto, Ḍarb-i-Kalīm, or The Strike of Him Who Spoke to God (sometimes translated as “The Rod of Moses,” which is both linguistically wrong and lacks the incredible subtleties that are inherent in all of Iqbāl’s names for his works). The work represents Iqbāl in his most mature socio-political thought, while Bāl-i-Jibrīl, or The Wing of Gabriel, represents his most mature metaphysical and mystical thought.
Nestled in the Ḍarb is a poem on ideal Muslim manhood, which, in classic Iqbāl fashion, combines allusions to the Quran, sunnah, and his own metaphysical philosophy. I believe it’s an important piece for young Muslim men today because it draws on the Islamic source texts to remind the Muslim man that he has to be Muslim in totality – that his role in society is to be the harbinger of complete Islamic revival. I present the poem here in translation as well as a short line-by-line commentary.
The Poem
Each moment is a Muʾmin’s new magnificence: In speech and character, he is God’s evidence Powerful, forgiving, Sacred, Majestic: A Muslim is formed by joining these four elements A man of clay takes his place next to Gabriel - Bukhara nor Badakhshan are his final residence The secret no one knows is that the Muʾmin Appears to be reciter, is Quran in his countenance His sovereign will becomes the artful ploys of fate: In dunya, he’s the balance; in ākhira, he’s in balance He is the dew that cools the heart of a tulip; The storm that throws the river into turbulence
Commentary
Each moment is a Muʾmin’s new magnificence: In speech and character, he is God’s evidence
Iqbāl begins with an allusion to Surat al-Raḥmān, ayah 29, in which Allah (SWT) says, “All those in the heavens and the earth are dependent on Him. Day in and day out He has something to bring about.” The word Iqbāl uses for magnificence is shān, which comes from the Arabic word shaʾn, which has dual meanings: it simultaneously means mater or affair as well as prestige and importance. The ayah can therefore simultaneously mean “every day He is in magnificence” as well as “everyday, he is engaged in bringing about new affairs.”
By eluding to this ayah through the use of the word shān, Iqbal alludes also to the famous saying often attributed to the Rasul (SAW), “model your character after the character of God.” The second line, however, shows the relationship between man and God, however: Allah’s names and attributes are primary and sublime; and, by modeling his character after the character of God, a Muslim becomes in and of himself evidence for and of Allah.[1] In this way, Iqbāl also alludes to another ayah – one which animates much of Iqbāl’s thinking about the role of man in general and the Muslim in particular on earth: “˹Remember˺ when your Lord said to the angels, “I am going to place a successive ˹human˺ authority on earth (khalifah).”
The idea of the Muslim as khalifah is the most important motif that runs through much of Iqbāl’s thought. Indeed, his thought can be summarized as Iqbāl’s attempt to understand what is that vicegerency and how it can be done in the modern context.
Powerful, forgiving, Sacred, Majestic: A Muslim is formed by joining these four elements
Each of these four characteristics is taken from a name of Allah: Powerful (qahhār), Forgiving (ghaffār), Sacred (quddūs), and Forceful (Jabbār). Each has a particular meaning in the socio-political role of the Muslim man in the modern context. He is simultaneously formidable in his unrelenting nature. His will is unbreakable, his spirit indomitable. That power, however, is neither overbearing nor domineering – rather, it is gentle, compassionate, and forgiving. He also holds a distinct sanctity for things that deserve sanctity, and he protects that sanctity with his very being.
For Iqbāl, these are both personal and social values.[1] The Muslim is all these things personally, but each has a social role as well. When he is indomitable, this means he is also resistant to attempts to dominate his will – whether it is though coercion or collusion. He is a source of mercy and compassion in society, maintains the sanctity of all things sacred, etc. The Muslim is never simply Muslim in his personal being – Islam is as much a social and political value as it is a personal and theological one.
A man of clay takes his place next to Gabriel - Bukhara nor Badakhshan are his final residence
This line has multiple meanings and multiple allusions. In many ways, the entire poem is about the Rasul (SAW), who is in himself al-insān al-kāmil (the most perfect human). A man of clay is an allusion to the miʿrāj, which is the ascendence of the Rasul (SAW) to heaven to speak with Allah. In that journey, he is guided by the arch-angel Jibrīl (AS), and this is one of the meanings of “taking his place with Gabriel.”
Another is an allusion to the ayah, “Indeed, We created humans in the best form.” (95:4) This is an incorporation to another of Iqbāl’s ideas, which is the miʿrāj al-muʾmin. To Iqbāl, just as the Rasul (SAW) had his own ascendence, each Muslim must do so as well. This is done by perfecting his character and deeply contemplating on and loving Allah. When he is able to ascend through the levels (maqāmāt) of character and love, he reaches his place as the neighbor of Jibrīl (AS). And, when that happens, he is not an earthly resident – rather, he is a traveler through the world while his residence is in the ākhirah (another allusion to another famous hadith, “be in the world as a traveler or passerby).
Another important meaning of the second line is that a Muslim is not bound by geographical or national allegiance – Islam is an idea, and the Muslim is part of the ummah irrespective of geographical association.
The secret no one knows is that the Muʾmin Appears to be reciter, is Quran in his countenance
The line is an allusion to the famous hadith of ʿĀʾishah (RA) when she was asked about the Rasul (SAW), and she replied, “his character was the Quran.” The Muslim is in continuous action upon the Quran. He doesn’t simply recite it – he lives it. Iqbāl himself considered his thought and poetry a tafsīr of the Quran, and much of his insights in to human psychology and metaphysics are rooted in Quranic precepts and ayahs.
His sovereign will becomes the artful ploys of fate: In dunya, he’s the balance; in ākhira, he’s in balance
This is most likely the most difficult of all of the couplets because the first line is a succinct rendering of Iqbāl’s theory of time, divine creation, human agency, and qadr. I will write a post on that at a later date, inshallah. The important points for the purposes of this post are in the second line: in the dunyā, the Muslim acts as the balance (mīzān) – the scale or balance that measures all things. This is an allusion to the ayah in Surat al-Raḥmān again: “As for the sky, He raised it ˹high˺, and set the balance ˹of justice˺ so that you do not defraud the scales. Weigh with justice, and do not give short measure.” (55:7-9)
The simple allusion to the ayah through the word mīzān ties the first half of the line with Iqbāl’s concept of khilāfah (vicegerency of God on earth): that is, all things have been created according to a just balance, and it is the role of the Muslim to uphold that balance. In the ākhirah, his own deeds will be placed on the mīzān (scale), and he will be held to account as to how much of a mīzān (scale/balance) he was and maintained on this earth.
He is the dew that cools the heart of a tulip; The storm that throws the river into turbulence
The last line is perhaps the most powerful, and, once again, an allusion to two famous ayahs: Muḥammad is the Messenger of Allah. And those with him are firm with the disbelievers and compassionate with one another.” (48:29) and “There certainly has come to you a messenger from among yourselves. He is concerned by your suffering, anxious for your well-being, and gracious and merciful to the believers.” (9:128)
This is the line from which I derive the name of my blog, “Dew Drops on a Tulip.” The Muslim is simultaneously so gentle and compassionate that he is like a dew drop in the heart of a tulip; he is also so powerful and overwhelming that he brings entire rivers to tremble from his ferocity. It is the balance of the two – and knowing when to be what – that makes a man a man.
So What Is a Man?
To Iqbāl, a man is first and foremost a vicegerent of God on earth. It is not a coincidence that the majority of Quranic allusions in this poem are from Surat al-Raḥmān. The Muslim man is a complete manifestation of mercy – even his ferocity is mercy. Just as the Rasul (SAW) was a mercy to mankind in its entirety, we, as incomplete versions of the al-insān al-kāmil, are mercies to those around us. We are animated by what Iqbāl considers to be the chief emotion and greatest force in creation: intense, overwhelming love (ʿishq).
It is from our love for Allah that we maintain His sanctity and follow His commands. It is from our love for Him that we are dutiful and merciful to all people. It is from our love of those around us that we are deeply compassionate and affectionate with them. But it is also our love for Allah, His Messenger (SAW), and the believing community that we are ferocious when we need to defend and protect the sanctity of Allah and His Messenger (SAW) and lives and property of believers.
Iqbāl’s message to young men, then, is that mercy and love are not weaknesses. They define the believer. They are what make him the place of safety and security for those who love him and those whom he loves, and they are what turn him into a ferocious storm to any who would threaten their sanctity.
We are an ummah of mercy. Sometimes, that mercy is compassionate and affectionate. And, sometimes, it is ferocious and indomitable. We are not one or the other. We are both.
[1] Which is consistent with the interplay between two of his core concepts, khudi and bekhudi
[1] There’s a lot to say about Iqbāl’s theory of time here as well, but that will be handled in a later couplet.
The words in ur post, “As for the sky, He raised it ˹high˺, and set the balance ˹of justice…” remind me of Surah Ghashiyyah and the mention in it of four things created by Allah: the camel, the mountains, the sky and earth. All have an arc in their shape and such a shape would require very precise balance to remain stable. And one of the reasons for naming these four together could be to point out that this similarity in shape also denotes balance in their creation. Do u agree?
Could you post a link to the original Urdu, please, as well?