Tilework on a Mosque
Power and Religion in Morocco Book Review
For the past few Decembers, I spent around a week brainstorming what gifts might appeal to my relatives. They insist that they are happy with anything or that they don’t want anything at all. For the most part, this leaves me between buying useless things and seeming thoughtless. Fortunately this year a friend recommended sharing the “gift of knowledge” with my family members – in other words, buy more books. I purchased several Nobel Literature Awards novels, and it seemed to go well. Now, I am always looking for the next enjoyable read to share. According to the back cover of Religion and Power in Morocco, by Henry Munson, Jr., the book is “thoroughly recommended” to those with a desire to understand the role of religion and tradition in the Muslim world (Ernest Gellner). With such impassioned reviews, I approached this book with a bit of hope. Perhaps it would surpass its bland dustcover and prove to be an interesting read fit for any Christmas gift. Henry Munson proposes that religion and power in Morocco inform each other, but analyzes them individually through the myth of the righteous man and his interactions with an unjust ruler. While this anecdotal proposal is interesting, Religion and Power in Morocco frequently gets lost in its own details and structures, but Munson’s eye for quality ethnographies and novel ideas redeem the book.
Munson uses extensive ethnographic information to develop his theories on religion and power’s interconnected role in Morocco. The first chapter introduces al-Yusi, a model wise man, and his conflict with the sultan, Mulay Is’mail, to validate Munson’s methodology and attack Geertz’s analysis. After examining al-Yusi, Munson proves that the pragmatic, passive ulama is typical, while righteous religious leaders such as al-Yusi were uncommon.
The book eventually improves from dry analysis to describe more contemporary structures in Morocco. According to Munson’s research, Islam evolved because of the teachings of al-Alawi, who influenced the ideas of more radical believers such as al-Fassi. Munson dispels the anachronisms that Salafi ideologies were always associated with the nationalist struggle and that the religious leaders of Islam were early proponents of revolt. Munson contrasts Mohammed V, a righteous ruler, and Hassan II’s view in the public eye. He explains that fundamentalism has been less successful in Morocco because of Morocco’s repressive government and the general passivity of the ulama. Munson concludes that “in studying the relation between religion and power, one must avoid reducing either to the other” (183).
Munson’s introduction of the book is, for the most part, unengaging. While the book is clearly well-researched, it has a tedious obsession with minutiae. These details may be valuable for a historian-cum-anthropologist like Munson, but they demonstrate that Munson does not write for the casual reader. For example, Munson spends a long paragraph to discuss the etymology of marabout, and even delves into the syllabic pronunciation of rabata, the root of murabit (17). This distinction would serve the reader better in the notes, since the divorce of this structure’s difference from its usage muddles his ultimate point. Without the close ties of these words, one forgets the reason the explanation was provided to begin with. Munson assumes that compensating for Geertz’s lack of details will always make for a better argument, and this assumption reduces the clarity of his argument.
Munson muddles his arguments further with his overly detailed historical accounts, since he delays explaining the need for establishing historical precedents. For example when Munson includes one of al-Yusi’s most famous epistles to the sultan, he validates his usage with verbose lines about preceding analyses (27). His main point – that Geertz never references the well-known letter – arrives after Munson leads the reader through a plodding chronology. Perhaps if he provided a more compelling narrative in his lines of history, the story itself would entertain the reader. However, Munson focuses so much on explaining his ideas, he forgets to bring the reader along with him. Without an accurate prediction of what Munson will attempt to explain, the reason for his history timeline fails to precipitate. This tendency towards dense language obscures the book’s main ideas.
The telescoping of time and subject clouds the larger meaning of Munson’s book, even though it manages to provide helpful context. Munson dedicates almost 20% of his book to an analysis al-Yusi and his context, then interrupts his focus on this righteous man to provide a long chronology of scholars and their relationship to Morocco’s rulers (6, 35 – 37). Munson maintains his thread of scholars throughout history, but his change of pace and time-period imparts of sense of indirection. The substantial focus on al-Yusi, followed by the detailed, yet relatively limited, understanding of each new shayk stirs distinct characters into a stew of time. Munson may attempt to do this to demonstrate the passivity of the ulama as a whole, yet this seems doubtful because several of his new examples are still considered righteous men (45). Regardless of his reasoning, the rapid direction change belies any intended rhetorical affect. Just as Munson seems to commit to his new time-driven structure, he detours to describe another righteous man, al-Kattani, before focusing on a primary chronological perspective (73, 181). Eventually, Munson allows the pattern of focusing and refocusing to shape the form of his book. After time, this logic becomes more apparent. For Munson to accurate convey the importance of not generalizing, he must use both broad context and individual histories.
Munson cautions against sacrificing good history for good story-telling, yet he manages to combine both in some of his anecdotes (8). For example, when he describes al-Dukkali’s method of teaching, he relates that, “When asked why [al-Dukkali] did not write, he said ‘Moroccans do not read’” (98). A similarly humor story involves a clever fox who decides to give the lion all his food once he witnesses the lion kill the wolf (111). From these instances, it is clear Munson has an eye for a good story, even if he disapproves of Geertz’s inability to separate folktales from history (8). Not only are these stories funny and tongue-in-check, but they also personify their teller and support the moments that distinguish themselves from Munson’s technical manual of Moroccan history. Without these moments of humor, Religion and Power would be a reinterpretation of another man’s work.
Religion and Power does not only have humorous points; it proposes novel ideas and questions as well. In Chapter 4, Munson traces the evolution of Islam and proves that it changed to accommodate the Western elements it fought against (78). This thought expands on Islam’s ability to adapt over time. Furthermore, this ideological shift ties into the idea of the “righteous man” who was not orthodox, but a well-respected leader nonetheless. Geertz spends a large amount of time developing the political aspect of Morocco’s kingdom as well, and he comments that Hassan II uses war in Western Sahara as well (135). While it is obvious that Hassan II uses fear throughout his reign, this example is a fascinating example of focusing his country’s fears externally to crush dissent. These thoughtful analyses provide insight to the complex political relations in Morocco.
Munson’s book creates scattered and conflicting reactions. As advertised, Religion and Power in Morocco is an informative, though dry, review of Moroccan history. It provides insights on the great thinkers and unjust sultans through extensive anecdotal evidence and proves well-researched on average. While it delivers on its promise to address historical context and the “myth of the righteous man,” it only sometimes proves its claim to be an engaging read. Beyond this, the thorough review of research loses some of its value when one considers the research is 25 years old. This book may provide quality facts, but it is best reserved for an academic history fanatic or a strong anti-Geertz reader. Munson’s writing speaks to the complexity of religion and power in al-Mahgreb, but whereas some writers attempt to clarify it, he seems satisfied using unclear language and long stories to prove his points.
Leave a Reply