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 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.
Henry Munson, Jr. discusses the role the monarchy, sharifa, and shaykhs played in the shaping of the political and religious history in Morocco, with a particular focus on 20thcentury fundamentalism in his book Religion and Power and Morocco. Munson works as a professor of anthropology at the University of Maine where he primarily researches late twentieth-century revivalist movements in Morocco. Morocco’s religious history plays a large part in shaping its 20thcentury political environment, especially because of Morocco’s long-intertwined past with Islam. Religion and Power in Morocco aims to analyze the significance of the relationship between religion and power in Morocco, giving proper attention to both the historical and symbolic context from which this association emerges. Munson’s book provides a detailed criticism of other anthropologists’ ethnographic writings concerning Islam in Morocco, an in-depth history of Islam and prominent Muslim figures in relation to the monarchy, events leading up to the establishment of a constitutional monarchy, and an examination of 20thcentury fundamentalism, allowing the reader to gain a more holistic understanding of Islamic history in Morocco and the Arab World.
The first chapter of Religion and Power in Morocco mainly addresses points made in Clifford Geertz’s Islam Observed. Munson claims that Geertz uses folktales to illustrate his points without properly examining the folktales in relation to the historical and symbolic background. He also describes different types of religious figures and where they derive their power: the shurafa (lit. honored ones), shaykh, and murabit (saint) all possess baraka (blessing) from miraculous or genealogical origins (9-18). Munson goes on to discuss the role of the sultan (ruler), khalif (deputy), and ulama (religious scholars) in regard to the throne. In chapter two, he introduces the recurring theme of the righteous holy man – often a Sufi shaykh – who dares to speak out against the sultan and advocates for a return to orthodox Islam. Due to growing concerns about European subjugation in the early 1900’s, al-Kattaniand few other ulama were vocal about their opposition to the sultan’s actions. After the reigning sultan (at the time) allows Morocco to fall into the hands of the French, he is overthrown by the ulama. Chapter four discusses a number of revolutionary figures/movements as well as the origins of the “revival of religion” leading to the ‘revival of “the nation”’ (113). After defending his position that the monarchy is not central to Islam’s existence as a religion, Munson discusses the challenges Hassan-II faced during his reign. Munson concludes with a review of three different fundamentalist movements of the late 20thcentury.
Munson’s extensive criticisms of Geertz’s and other anthropologists’ work is an important part of his book because it allows the reader to draw from past readings and gain a deeper understanding of the new material. Seeing the imprecise and unfounded writings of Geertz, Combs-Schilling, and others juxtaposed with Munson’s corrections based in thorough research gives the reader a springboard from basic assumptions to extensive awareness. Munson writes, “Geertz’s interpretation of these stories illustrates a recurrent problem in his writings: his failure to situate his stories in the context of the structures that give them meaning” (33). He then explains how he dissected those same stories and derived a different meaning when viewed in the proper historical context.
Religious figures depicted in both old folktales and more modern stories serve a purpose. Several prophet-like men in Morocco’s history served to oppose the wrongdoings of the government – a crucial concept to grasp when attempting to understanding how Morocco became the constitutional monarchy it is today. According to Munson, “…[T]he righteous men of God who have been able to mobilize great numbers of people in Moroccan history have typically been regarded as sacred as well as righteous, saints as well as scholars. They have invariably been said to possess great baraka and have usually claimed to be descendants of the Prophet” (49). Religion and Power in Morocco provides an excellent foundation of knowledge concerning the evolution of these righteous men and how they led to the presence of revolutionaries who, eventually, forced Morocco’s sultan to sign a bay’a, including checks and balances to the sultan’s power. Munson’s book clearly illustrates how restraints on the power of the monarch developed into Morocco’s constitutional monarchy.
The national identity of Morocco is made intelligible by Munson’s detailed history of Moroccan fundamentalists’ views and how they influenced Morocco’s political spheres. Three different fundamentalist groups are detailed in chapter six of Religion and Power in Morocco, supplying the reader with a panorama of religious-political movements. Additionally, Munson explains that “Twentieth-century fundamentalists, whatever their religion, typically argue that the ills of the present are due to the deviation from the righteous path of virtuous ancestors” (150). This explanation helps lead the reader to the conclusion that religion played a large role in political reform in the late 20thcentury. Although Munson spends a great deal of time covering the fundamentalist groups, it was not to excess. The culmination of these movements helped cultivate Morocco’s national identity today – one with a close association to Islam and its values.
Religion and Power in Morocco is a strong analysis of the origins of Morocco’s political and religious climate today. Munson effectively details the history of religious and political figures in Morocco, the events leading up to the elimination of the (non-constitutional) monarchy, and the precursory movements which matured into ideals shaping Moroccan nationalism. I would recommend this book to those looking for a deeper, more holistic understanding of Morocco’s ties between religion and politics. However, I would not advise those who wish to read Religion and Power in Morocco do so without reading other, earlier works from writers such as Geertz simply because of the knowledge gap that may result from lack of having read the works Munson frequently references. I would like to read what Munson thinks about the political status of Morocco during more recent years, especially given the mounting tensions between the United States/Europe and other Arab countries.
The work Religion and Power in Morocco by Henry Munson Jr. seeks to partially analyze the work Islam Observed by Clifford Geertz and the popular misconceptions widely perpetuated among even educated anthropologists. Munson also attempts to investigate the complexities of religion and politics within Morocco without foregoing historical accuracy and stresses the realistic discrepancies among the public and political sectors. This work proceeds on a timeline beginning with an evaluation of folktales and continues onto the historically accurate realities of Moroccan monarchial power and religion. Religion and Power in Morocco gave me an in-depth explanation of the factors influencing the average Moroccan, as well as an awareness over common yet mistaken assumptions.
Initially, Munson intensely argues against Geertz’s concept of baraka as pertaining to individualistic traits and instead pinpoints it as a phenomenon of perceived purity (or baraka), which extends to the Prophet and his descendants (Munson 5-6; 21). Certificates attesting an individual’s relation to the Prophet essentially granted them baraka, and would often increase their position, wealth, and political power (21-22). Essentially, Munson uses Geertz’s flawed explanation of baraka as an example that lacks proper research and that relies solely on folktales without the appropriate contexts.
Additionally, Munson analyzes the political structure of power the sultan and the contractual agreement (bay’a) with the ulama (educated scholars), come to signify (39). Although in theory the ulama had significant power – as they validated the legitimacy of the sultan – they instead consistently catered to the will of the sultan (75). “Even the king’s decrees are immune to legal challenge” (127). This was interesting in that Morocco abided by political structure of Islamic law, but each sultan/ king somehow managed to circumvent contractual restrictions by instilling a varying degree of fear among ulama and the public (127). From the perspective of an outsider, this allowed greater insight into Moroccan culture by demonstrating the mechanisms of religious influences instilled within the government. Despite the bay’a being no longer implemented (126), the concept that religion brings forth a sense of legitimacy gave me a greater idea the extent to which Islam permeates throughout Moroccan society.
Furthermore, Munson stresses the need to disassociate from the grasps of overgeneralizations when proclaiming the general consensus of the public, as this easily provides leeway towards inaccurate assumptions (121). Rule under King Hassan II remained under rigorous censorship and deliberate control over media portrayal of the government, yet the actual public opinion remained buried beneath such overt control (140). Moroccans’ stance and awareness of political circumstances varied from those unaffected by the political climate to those educated or politically active (129). Perhaps the most perplexing truth of the Moroccan public – at least those interviewed by Munson – was that personal loyalty and respect to the king was fickle to non-existent (129-133). In this matter, this clearly demonstrates the autonomy and distinction of public opinion as capable of existing aside from the political climate, even if fear of the king’s wrath hindered them from acting on such opinions (141).
Despite the religious and political background pertaining to Morocco expertly related by Munson, its shortcomings begin with the excessive critique of numerous scholars, namely Geertz. I recognize that Clifford Geertz holds significant influence within the field of cultural anthropology and thus must be heavily critiqued so as to advance the field Islam Observed pertains to, but the first half of Religion and Power in Morocco disproportionately critiques Geertz. Only until mid-way through chapter four does Munson begin to truly focus on his thesis concerning “strong-man politics and holy-man piety” (9). In addition, for all of the five pages justifying Munson’s reasoning for employing the term “fundamentalist” to describe the general return to “golden age” religion (151), he does not bother to elaborate on “strong-man politics” or “holy-man piety” (9; 132). In my opinion, the two terms lack tact and reasonable justification for use and cater to gender assumptions that – even though women’s roles in Moroccan politics were limited – thereby advocate certain characteristics of men which consequently suggest that women lack the capability of being pious or (if given the chance) of being politically active.
In conclusion, Religion and Power in Morocco is an academic work that provides incite on the specifics of Moroccan politics and its relationship with religion. If seeking on how to approach a subject from both an anthropological and historical perspective, this is an excellent sample if you exclude the above-mentioned shortcomings. Overall, it was definitively an informative read that gave an unbiased yet accurate brief overview of the spheres of influence Morocco rests upon.
Henry Munson Jr.’s 1993 book Religion and Power in Morocco seeks to discuss the relationship between Islam and politics throughout Morocco’s history. Most of his argument is situated in opposition to anthropologist Clifford Geertz’s 1968 study Islam Observed: Religious Development in Morocco and Indonesia. Munson criticizes Geertz’s work for focusing too heavily upon personal accounts and ignoring other historical and political contexts surrounding Morocco. Munson examines the political influence of religion and religious figures in Morocco during various moments in Morocco’s political history such as the precolonial era, during the French protectorate, and following decolonization and the restoration of the monarchy. Having never traveled to Morocco before and never having studied Morocco exclusively, I was excited to learn more about the history and culture of the country. Although Religion in Power did provide much historical and religious context concerning Morocco, the book’s confusing organization as well as Munson’s hyper-focus on Geertz’s and others’ work makes it somewhat hard to follow and inaccessible to those less familiar with Morocco’s history or the outside sources Munson references. Munson’s attempt to link his academic argument that historical and anthropological research must be more closely intertwined to create a clearer picture of religion and politics and his individual arguments concerning specific elements of Moroccan religion and politics become muddled together and do not always build upon each other in a constructive way.
Religion and Power in Morocco is mostly organized chronologically and is paired with a timeline at the beginning of the book. However, the book sometimes becomes confusing to read when Munson jumps back and forth between years or frames a discussion from certain lenses. For example, in Chapter 4: “Popular Religion, Orthodoxy, and Salafi Scripturalism,” Munson considers the relationship of Salafi reformists and nationalist movements in Morocco as well as between popular and orthodox Islam in the early 1900s. He frames this chapter from the perspectives of different Salafi and Sufi figures, introducing each, then relating a short account about their religious and political views and intersections. These brief anecdotes do not always flow chronologically, and Munson relates them back to a few different points, some of which are discussed at the beginning of the chapter, and some of which are discussed at the end. Thus, it is difficult for the reader to follow his argument and pinpoint the key messages of this chapter.
Aside from organizational flaws, Munson loses the attention and understanding of the reader when he frames each point in the context of another author’s perspective. Munson himself admits that much of Religion and Power in Morocco is centered around his criticism of Clifford Geertz’s Islam Observed. While he provides some information about Geertz’s specific arguments, he never provides the broad overview of Geertz’s approach to this study that is necessary to fully understand the critical differences in the two books. Anyone wishing to read Religion and Politics would likely gain much more from the book having previously read Islam Observed, since Munson’s explanation alone is not sufficient for a robust understanding.
By mentioning Geertz and other authors so often in his book, it seems that Munson is attempting to make two different arguments at once. First, he does, as stated in the title, examine the relationship between Islam and political power in Morocco, and makes many original arguments on this topic. Second, he argues that Geertz’s approach to studying Islam in Morocco does not accurately reflect historical contexts, finishing the book by asking “If all we write is fiction, why not leave the task to those who do it well?” (Munson 185), driving home the While is it extremely important to criticize academia and the ways that research is conducted, it appears that Munson was attempting to write two different works that instead became merged into one. As a reader, I would have been more compelled by a book written more directly about Munson’s own findings on the role of Islam in Moroccan politics paired with the historical and symbolic contexts that he finds necessary to accurately cover the topic, and perhaps with a foreword regarding Geertz’s and others’ works on the same issues, and the necessary academic differences between them. When almost all of Munson’s points reference another author’s flaws, his own arguments become lost in his criticism that focuses more on Geertz’s academic approach than the content of either book itself. For this reason, Munson’s thoughts on the accuracy of different research approaches would have been better suited for a short paper more focused on that specific topic and perhaps using the example of Geertz’s inaccuracies to support Munson’s idea that varied academic approaches are necessary to achieve a thorough grasp of a subject. His attempt to merge these two topics unfortunately results in a confusing book that does not convincingly make either point.
The aspects of Munson’s book that were the most engaging and informative were those that spoke broadly about aspects of religion in Morocco or gave straightforward information about its history. In chapter 5, “Holy and Unholy Kingship in Twentieth-Century Morocco,” Munson gives adequate context and information about traditions of daily prayer in Islam prior to relating this to his argument about the lack of concrete religious links to the Moroccan monarchy. Similarly, when discussing the reigns of Mohammed V and Hassan II, Munson gives enough historical context without being bogged down by reference to Geertz that as the reader I gained a lot more memorable information that will inform my further study of Morocco.
For these reasons, Religion and Power in Morocco is not likely to capture a wide audience and is not a book I would recommend to most people, especially those looking for an introductory text about Morocco’s history However, it could serve as a valuable reference text for individuals researching specific topics such as al-Yusi, the relationship between Morocco’s different political movements and its religious elite, or the Moroccan monarchy, or for those who are more familiar with Morocco’s history or the work of Geertz. To the every day reader seeking to learn more about Morocco, or even to delve deeply into its religious and political history, other resources might be more concise, informative, and engaging.
In his book, Henry Munson Jr. attempts to record significant historical interactions between religious and political entities in Morocco in order to portray the relationship between the two. Religion and Power in Morocco also serves as a foil to Islam Observed by Clifford Geertz, Munson explains. Geertz utilized anthropological research methods to write Islam Observed—speaking to the Moroccan people and recording the stories they told. Munson, on the other hand, has combined interviews with Moroccan people with analyses of historical and religious texts to craft what he believes to be a more thorough interpretation of religious and political upheavals in Morocco. Munson’s book contains a great deal of information about various movements, figures, and events, but it is bogged down by the opinions of views and others. It is difficult to discern which sentiments and accounts stem from Munson’s experiences and research and which hail from other historians and anthropologists. Ultimately, this makes the book inaccessible to a reader that is not well versed in Moroccan history or the varied works that Geertz references.
I knew very little about Moroccan religion and politics prior to picking up Religion and Power in Morocco, but Munson has certainly done his research. He begins the book by listing his credentials: he and his family lived in Morocco from 1976-1977, and he also visited the country for additional fieldwork in 1987, 1988, and 1990. Munson also notes that he referred to Arabic texts dated from the 17th through 20th centuries and the voices of Moroccans living in the United States and Europe (Munson, xii). Therefore, I was confused as to why Munson conveyed all of his points in relation to other writers, notably Geertz. This is most evident in the first chapter. More than half of the subsections of “Al-Yusi as Exemplar,” begin with phrases like “Geertz contends” or “Geertz writes” or “Geertz interprets.” Having not read Islam Observed, the back and forth nature of Munson’s writing when comparing his research to Geertz’s was confusing for me. It was very difficult for me to keep the two versions of Al-Yusi’s story separate in my head. I would have much preferred Munson to have given a brief summary of Geertz’s work, followed by all of his own thoughts, or even to have left Geertz’s opinions out altogether. I was eager to read a factual account of Moroccan history and the basis of Moroccan folklore, but I felt like I was reading an extended review of Islam Observed.
Luckily, Munson refers to Geertz less in subsequent chapters. However, the organization of the book continues to prevent the reader from absorbing much information. Time and again, Munson switches between angles, sometimes detailing the lore about a figure, sometimes the historical facts, and sometimes general information about the time period or Islam. In several chapters, Munson relays information about a specific period or event in Moroccan history through the eyes of one specific person. This is demonstrated in the chapter, “Al-Kattani and the Ulama.” In this chapter, Munson attempts to detail the Sufi shaykh Al-Kattani’s life and influence in addition to the events leading up to France’s colonization of Morocco. In theory, this approach would work, but, to a complete novice in the subject it would have been much easier to comprehend a timeline of factual events followed by Al-Kattani’s role in them.
Despite the organization, Religion and Power does contain a wealth of information about Moroccan folklore and political history. Munson covers a lot of ground in this book—from 17th century saints through 20th century fundamentalist revivals. While he takes time to delve into details about many, many, Moroccan scholars, leaders, and influencers, I appreciated Munson’s inclusion of more generalized themes of Islam and politics in Morocco. For example, I was very intrigued by Munson’s description about the formatting of Islamic government in Morocco, such as the debates over the values of a hereditary monarchy versus an elected caliphate (37) and the intended relationship between the sultan and the ulama compared to the observed one. Another welcome addition was the inclusion of the ritual and significance of daily prayers in Islam. These broader themes were much easier to understand than some of the more specific anecdotes, and were told in Munson’s own voice, rather than sampling from other authors.
If someone was curious about the historical influence of religion on politics in Morocco, I would not recommend Religion and Power in Morocco. The tone is too academic for the average reader, even one who is interested in Morocco or Islam. Near constant references to other works distract the reader and prevent a clear interpretation of the historical facts. I do think that Munson’s book may be helpful to a fellow researcher as a source of reference, but very few of the thoughts expressed in this book seem to be Munson’s own. He claims that he wrote Religion and Power to counterbalance the purely anthropological views in Islam Observed, but writing his book in relation to Geertz’s is exactly why Munson’s book is ineffective. If Religion and Power consisted only of Munson’s personal research, it would be far more accessible to a wider audience.
Look at any newspaper or television broadcast and undoubtedly there will be discussion of Islam or the Middle East. Conflict in the modern era centers around issues such as tensions between Israel and Palestine, terrorism, and the Syrian civil war. These topics are some of the most pertinent crises that challenge nations today. Conferences tackling these matters often discuss the role of political Islam in developing Arab Nations, especially following the Arab Spring. However, despite many of the radical changes that resulted from the political upheavals of the past decade, the nation of Morocco has remained relatively unchanged. A professor of anthropology specializing in Middle Eastern culture, Henry Munson, attempts to provide a clear description of the relationship between Islam and the politics of Morocco. In his book Religion and Power in Morocco, Munson challenges the work of the revered cultural anthropologist Clifford Geertz that the Moroccan monarchy is central to the country’s religion by stating that Geertz neglects a nuanced understanding of Islam as a religion and the politics related to it. Munson’s work is oftentimes labored and overly academic but contains flashes of wisdom that work to uncover Geertz’s gaffes and demystify the way in which Islam is interconnected with Moroccan politics.
Munson divides his book into seven chapters that substantiate his criticism of Geertz and provide a new conclusion about the relationship of religion and power in Morocco. He begins his argument by interpreting the same stories that Geertz used in his own work about the seventeenth-century scholar al-Yusi in order to illustrate how Geertz glosses over the historical context of the works. Munson also initiates a discussion of the “righteous man of God who dares to defy an unjust sultan” in this chapter, a recurring motif throughout the text (27). In the second part, he discusses the evolution of the the ulama in Moroccan politics as well as the changing role of the king in terms of his relationship to Islam. He furthers this argument in the following chapter where he discusses the passivity of the ulama by looking at the unconventional historical figure al-Kattani. Munson then turns his discussion to Salafi reformist Islam and the part that colonialism played in its conception as well as the overall religious insignificance of the monarchy in Moroccan politics. In the penultimate chapter, Munson brings his reader to the present era in a dialogue on Islamic fundamentalism in both its successes and shortcomings. In the final and shortest section, Munson offers a closing and culminating interpretation of Geertz’s work, showing how while Geertz had insightful ideas, his conclusions were ineffectual and unfounded.
The first three chapters of Munson’s book feel labored and lack the focus of the latter half of his text. In the first chapter, his movement between stories that center around al-Yusi feels disconnected and unguided. He offers different interpretations of the folktales that Geertz uses in his own argument, but the stories seem to lack some sort of common theme or overarching point. Oftentimes, it feels necessary to have a strong prior understanding of Moroccan history and the work of Geertz before attempting to read these sections. When continuing to read, these first three chapters are overshadowed by the second half both thematically and in terms of its style. Realistically, it comes off as an overwrought and dense history lesson that only has a few points relevant to the argument at hand. Without Geertz, the first chapter cannot stand alone as Munson’s writing does not bring anything new to the discussion, except for the beginnings of criticism. Munson often goes off on tangential topics such as that of Sufism, that, while interesting, are never discussed fully enough to be significant to his argument.
Undoubtedly, there are moments of clarity in Munson’s book. The second half of the work provides particularly noteworthy insight and characterization of Islam in Morocco. Munson touches on ideas such as colonialism and its impact on Morocco. He writes that European dominance was seen as a result of “the believers deviat[ing] from the laws of God” (88). This resulted in a “religious dichotomy” that fostered ideas of Salafism (113). He clearly delineates the missteps made in the analysis of Geertz. He warns to “never mistake the Islam of polemical texts for Islam as really lived by people” (114). His discussion of the unimportance of the Moroccan king is best seen in how citizens “support the king and the monarchy for fear of the alternatives” (148). In the modern era, it has been seen that without the king, Islam would survive in the country. Using a variety of examples, Munson is able to disprove Geertz in his assertion of the importance of the Moroccan king to the religion of the nation. These chapters are cogent and well-written, especially when compared to the opening chapters.
Religion and Politics in Morocco is not a casual read and it certainly was never intended to be so. Munson presents a breadth of knowledge that is both complex and informative. His work can be tangential and requires some background knowledge of the topic to truly understand the points he makes. The first half of the book feels scattered and overly-academic, using Geertz’s work as a crutch to his own. However, the second half of his work is novel and paints a clear picture of the how the religious institutions in Morocco are connected to the political. It is daunting to challenge someone whose work is so acclaimed but Munson provides a strong argument that suggests another valid interpretation of similar concepts. Religion and Power in Morocco is very focused and polemic, deriving from a historiographic perspective. However, for the armchair historian, there are other books and writings that provide a more general overview encompassing the idea of Islam and politics in Morocco.
In Religion and Power in Morocco, Henry Munson attempts to analyze the evolution of the role of Islam in the political sphere of Moroccan society. Primarily, Munson utilizes ancient Moroccan mythical stories of “saintly scholars” to explain the changing nature of political Islam in Morocco. Throughout his book, Munson critiques Geertz’s Islam Observed, describing the political issues Geertz successfully identifies, such as his discussion of the ideologization of religion, while also explaining how much of Geertz’s research fails to correctly characterize the relationship between Islam and power in Morocco. Munson focuses his research around the historical series of clashes that embodied the “righteous man of God” who was brave enough to defy an unjust sultan governing the people of Morocco, reaching as far back as the conflict between al-Hasan al-Yusi and Mulay Isma’il in the 17th century to the fundamentalists challenging King Hassan II as recently as the late 20th century. Thus, Munson uses these different examples to lay down a framework for discussing the history of political conflicts within Moroccan society.
Utilizing the work of Geertz, Moroccan folk stories, and his own researched fieldwork, Munson creates a narrative revolving around the continuous struggle between righteous ulama (religious scholars) and the authoritarian sultans that controlled Moroccan society. Munson begins by stating sultans were considered the “deputy [shadow] of god”, (Munson, 38). He then highlights the distinction between just and unjust sultans, where unjust sultans were seen as purposefully defying God’s laws and instead treating their subjects unfairly and harshly. Munson uses Moroccan folk tales and his own research to identify a continuous trend in Moroccan history. As a sultan begins to disrespect divine laws, the majority of the ulama support him. Then, one “righteous man of God” begins to defy the sultan, calling for him to change the nature of his government back to one that adheres to the laws of governing found in the Qur’an. However, if the sultan refuses, Munson brings up numerous examples of righteous men who started a rebellion against their sultan in order to ensure their ruler is replaced by a just one.
To emphasize his point, Munson brings up the confrontation between al-Yusi and Mulay Isma’il. Munson writes that Geertz explains this conflict as one revolving around inherited and obtained baraka; however, Munson disagrees with Geertz and discredits his research by noting that al-Yusi possessed both inherited and obtained baraka, while Mulay Isma’il only possessed inherited. Munson also discredits Geertz’s research by writing, “Geertz ignored the religious significance of baraka and reduces it to personality traits,” (Munson, 6). Thus, when Isma’il continued to act unjustly as a ruler, it was in al-Yusi’s ability to defy the sultan and ensure that he was replaced by a sultan who would correctly act as a “shadow of God”.
Munson regularly critiques the work of Geertz throughout his book in order to successfully emphasize the importance of his own research. One important distinction between his own work and Geertz’s is Geertz’s failure to analyze primary documents found in Moroccan society. He writes that Geertz’s refusal to analyze local documents and instead focus only on historical evidence written in English taints his entire research. Without studying local historical stories and essays, Munson argues that it is impossible to correctly characterize the nature of Islam in Morocco’s political history. Geertz also purposefully ignores religion’s involvement in the use of governmental force and fear tactics, which Munson argues are two factors which are absolutely necessary in order to understand the religious aspects associated with power. Thus, Munson critically analyzes Geertz’ failure to include these important components, explaining that Geertz’s analysis of kingship in Morocco is distorted by his academic mistakes.
As I read Religion and Power in Morocco, Munson’s style of research was both intriguing and confusing. His methodology successfully incorporated specific accounts of confrontations between religious scholars and men of power to explain the general nature of these conflicts across Moroccan history. He conveys this usage in his conclusion “one finds the myth of the righteous man of God who defies an unjust sultan in the historical texts of the past as well as the folktales of the present,” (184). This is Munson’s main distinction from other academic writers: he utilizes the work of both intellectual historians and the folktales told by ordinary common citizens.
However, his academic style of writing failed to entirely engage me as a reader. By seamlessly pulling quotes from Geertz, his own research, and Moroccan folk tales without explanation, he added to the confusion associated with an already challenging topic. Munson himself says he “I have leapt back and forth between event structure in a manner ostensibly similar to Geertz’s ‘dialectical tacking between the most local of local detail and the most global of global structure’”, (Munson, 180). While this strategy conveyed a convincing argument supported by evidence of different categories, it came across as an overwhelming amount of information.
While Munson writes that he “tried to avoid generalization divorced from what real people do as well as the description of events severed from the structures that shaped them,” (Munson, 180), he focuses the entirety of his book’s argument around the usage of individual myths and stories to the application of a general theme across Moroccan history. Thus, his attempt to avoid generalization fails as the focus of his research revolves around two main timelines in Moroccan history: the conflicts between al-Yusi and Isma’il and between the fundamentalists and Hassan II.
Thus, Munson successfully incorporates the usage of primary texts and historical documents to create a general idea of the evolution of Islam in association with political power. However, he does so through a complex and confusing window that fails to engage any reader who is not an entirely academic scholar. So, his book fails to reach out to the average reader and instead can only be understood by other scholars of similar nature to himself. I would only recommend this book to people who are aware of this challenge and who already have experience studying this region’s deep and complex political history.
Henry Munson’s book Religion and Power in Morocco tries to explains in detail the complex relationship between religion and power in Morocco through analysis of political and religious events of the seventeenth century to late twentieth century. Through combination of history through folklores, passed down from generation to generation by Moroccans, and cultural anthropology, Munson while critic of Clifford Geertz previous work for too much generalization and for both inadequate and poor contextualization of evidence , tries to explain the events better and put them in context.
Munson starts by criticizing Geertz interpretation of an incident between al- Hassan al-Yusi- a Saint and Muslim scholar- and Sultan Mulay Ismail who ruled from 1672 to 1727. (2) Munson says that Geertz interpreted the stories without adequate attention to their symbolic and historical significance. He then goes ahead and explains Geertz interpretation of the incidents, and then proposes his own version of it, which he acquired through his ethnographic fieldwork in Morocco and information he acquired from old texts by Moroccan scholars. In the subsequent chapters, Munson delves deep into the religious and political history of Morocco to help readers understand the interactions of Saints, Sultans, Sufi Shaykhs, Caliphates, Ulamaa and the different dynasties that controlled Morocco’s religion and political realms over the centuries. Through these long and complex history, we get to understand how political and religious leaders related with each other- which usually involved the Sultans or Caliphs been powerful and the religious leaders and scholars at best trying to warn them whenever they felt they were failing to undertake their duties to treat their subjects fairly. Munson also explains several incidents when these men of God (the saints and Sharifs) rebuked the powerful leaders for their ill treatment of people and they ended up being killed or banished by the Sultans except for those like al-Yusi who used their baraka in which case the Sultans would leave them alone because they feared the saints could hurt them using their powers. Munson then explains the history of the fundamentalist opposition and other historical events that shaped power throughout Morocco in the 20th century.
While reading the book, I felt Munson spent a lot of time criticizing Geertz that he could have used to explain the religion and power interrelations in Morocco in a simpler way. I also felt some of his criticism didn’t really make sense, for example he says that Geertz uses “his twentieth- century folktale to interpret seventeenth-century history” yet he also uses folktales from Moroccan in explaining quite a number of the confrontations between religious and political leaders.(24).
Reading Religion and Power was quite exhausting as there’s so much history packed in the book and trying to grasp everything can be draining. I also felt that it would be better if one read Geertz’s Islam Observed first before reading Munson’s Religion and Power in Morocco to get a better understanding of both texts.
Also, since Munson tries to cover centuries of history in one book, like Geertz before him, he was just another anthropologist trying to make sense of things that happened centuries before the time he was doing the research and I believe it’s fair enough to say that he has done pretty good job of gathering a lot of evidence from the reliable and available sources in the twentieth century. It’s generally hard to put together a text that makes a perfect presentation of such old history since its subject to bias by different sources supporting different dynasties, factions and sultans, not forgetting the information lost either through misinterpretation or lost/forgotten as its passed down from century to century.
In general, I would say this a good book to read if you are interested in getting sense and an understanding of 1) the religious and political history of Morocco and a little bit about Islam from the time of prophet Muhammed’s death in 632 to late twentieth century and how power was passed down for centuries either through kinship or contractual, 2) the powers’ of Sultans as a result of their positions and those of religious scholars whether genealogical or miraculous and how these powers were used by both parties and how it shaped the political and religious history of Morocco.
The main purpose of Henry Manson through his book, Religion and Power in Morocco, is to provide an alternative argument to the political role of Islam in pre-colonial Morocco. Though to do so he focuses on incidents of the “myth of the righteous man of God who dares to defy an unjust sultan,” he structures his argument by proving the historical and cultural inaccuracies of Geertz’s accounts in Islam Observed. He provides an alternative to everything disproved with intricate arguments. Geertz’s greatest error, according to this work, is “neglecting the historical and symbolic contexts of events” when discussing these same events. Manson uses historical text and combines this with ethnographic work, whereas Geertz focused solely on ethnography to make a historical argument.
Manson argues that when talking about religion and politics, people are often too eager to only observe their combined cause and effect. An isolated approach, Manson argues, is necessary to have a holistic opinion of Islam’s political role in Morocco.
He begins by introducing two kinds of legitimacies to a sultan: the hierocratic and the contractual standards. A sultan’s leadership is not fully legitimate until he receives the approval of the ulama. A perfect sultan-ulama relationship would be on where the sultan consults the ulama to make sure his actions are just, and one where the ulama speak out against the sultan when his actions are unjust. Munson says:
“Abdallah Laroui is correct in saying that the precolonial ulama were the only group to whom the sultan felt obliged to justify his actions (1977b, 100). They were the guardians of God’s law and as such were of tremendous symbolic significance in a political order ostensibly based on this law. In the final analysis, however, the sultans were usually able to force most ulama to legitimate whatever they wanted legitimated. Only a few scholars ever conformed to the ideal of the righteous man of God, just as few sultans ever conformed to the ideal of the just ruler” (55).
This introduction opens up the tensions between sultans and the ulama in Moroccan history. Among these confrontations is that between scholar and saint al-Hasan al-Yusi and the sultan Mulay Isma’il, between ‘Abd al-Kabir al-Kattani and sultan Mulay ‘Abd al-Hafidh, and between Muhammad bin al-‘Arby al-‘Alawi (Salafi reformist) and King Hassan II. These clashes furthermore reveal the political and religious evolutions of sultans and scholars in precolonial Morocco.
The ulama’s role is usually passive, except in a few cases Munson includes. These are exceptions, by far. Munson even refers to these instances as the “myth of the righteous man of God” (Munson X). The stories of these men have been almost idolized by modern Moroccans because of their heroic nature.
Munson’s argument is difficult to disagree with. Munson takes a thoughtful route and cares to include historical and ethnographic interpretations, each where each applies the best. However, his argument could be better organized. Because of the abstract nature of ethnography, it would benefit him to follow a format closer to a timeline rather than isolating specific events without much context. While the historic timeline he includes in the beginning is helpful, more historical context with each incident would help lessen confusion.
The themes Henry Munson discusses, and the organization he uses to do so, require the utmost attention when reading. There are many things he does to make it easier for the reader that are very much appreciated. As mentioned before, the historic timeline Munson includes in the beginning help contextualize his arguments more than they would be if no timeline was included. Furthermore, the outline of each chapter that Hanson provides at the beginning of the book is an excellent guide. Manson also defines the basic terminology in this field.
This was by far the most difficult reading for this class. However, it was of equal importance. It is necessary just how politics and religion interact globally, but especially within the context of Morocco, which is the gateway between Western Europe and the rest of the Arab World. Moreover, even though it is a difficult read, it is a perfect introduction into the shared world of Islam and politics. For someone who is not well immersed in the literature, this book is the perfect way to dive in.
 The Medina near ALIF Riad When I hopped off the plane at Fes-Saïss Airport, I looked around the mostly empty tarmac and felt my mouth drop open a little bit. I couldn’t stop gaping as I absorbed the mountains and the bright tilework, and at that moment I broke my promise to not look like a clueless tourist. I took one Snapchat, forgot to save it, and then walked into the air-conditioned building. Since then I have been working hard for the label of “informed traveler,” but it will take more than a week here to achieve that status.
In the past seven days, I have already moved past my phrasebook Arabic to gather more words in Darija, the Moroccan dialect of Arabic. Because of its harsh, vowel-dropping tendency, Moroccan Arabic is one of the most difficult Arabic dialects to understand. Fortunately, my first word was fairly easy: kul. Kul, which sounds similar to cool, means “eat.” It is a word my host mom uses frequently, and her insistent kul’s remind me of dinner at home.
I can read and write almost all of my alphabet now as well. Letters like Ayn, Ghayn, DHaal, Saad, Qaaf, and Khaa continue to tangle up in my throat, but l am starting to hear the subtle differences between them. Occasionally, I realize I’m making chicken noises while I’m trying to practice “Qaaf.” It seems like everyone in the beginner Darija section is guilty of making unconventional sounds at this point, so I have decided to embrace the bird sounds.
As I feel more comfortable in class, I am also growing more accustomed to Fez itself. So far, I have only been lost in the alleys of the Medina three times. I love sitting in the Arabic school’s courtyard while I work on homework. In true Moroccan form, I am consuming levels of sugar that would make a toddler proud. Most importantly, I’m happy to be learning with other students in a completely new environment.
I’ll be taking my first road trip in Morocco on Saturday. Hopefully, my clueless tourist side will remember to document the trip with pictures, but until then I will continue developing my literate, informed traveler side. – Anna Cunningham
 Women’s clothing: modern meets traditional Upon my arrival in Fes, I exited the train station and found a taxi to take me to the Hotel Batha, where I was to meet my host family. My traveling companion inquired as to the cost of the ride before we could leave the station – in English, no less. Nothing could’ve screamed “clueless tourist” any louder than if I had written it on my forehead. After five grueling minutes of negotiations in broken French, off we went, and I silently kicked myself – I knew I had been fleeced, but I was too travel-weary to care. King’s ransom paid, we tottered up the hotel’s front steps around midnight, luggage in tow. Just as I was deciding that nothing else could possibly go wrong, a group of teenage boys sitting outside the hotel exchanged words accompanied by a few unbecoming hand gestures as I passed. I had spoken too soon.
Surprisingly, they were far from the only people out and about. In fact, it seemed as though every man, woman, and child in Fes flocked to the streets, even at such a late hour. Before long, my host dad and I were en route, Moroccan quick-stepping through the infinite twists and turns of the ancient Medina. The breakneck pace, while bewildering at first, made complete sense after a few times of wandering through the Medina during the following week. Fes’s Medina is comprised of endless alleyways and corridors all somehow connected by a maze of meandering streets. No map is completely accurate. Each subsequent turn I took revealed a cluster of kids playing or a stray cat in search of scraps, scurrying out of sight at the sound of my footsteps. Or a gang of boys, jeers on the tips of their tongues, ready to lash out at any girl or woman who walks by.
Regardless of the fact I adorn long, non-revealing clothing and a hat to cover my hair, I still hear the suggestive remarks many young boys and men yell as I walk past. And I am not alone in this plight. This unfortunate reality is a fact of life for women in Morocco, despite their best attempts to avoid attention. Some women dare to bare their calves, shoulders, and other moderately scandalizing body parts; however, most Moroccan women conceal their bodies and hair from the public eye. Their djellabas cover their entire body from neck to ankles – quite a far cry from typical American dress. In spite of Moroccan women’s attempts to protect against different types of harassment and gender violence, these problems persist.
This hasn’t stopped people from speaking out. I attended an event at the ALC (American Language Center) called “Give Me Back My Voice” in which men and women alike acted out anonymously written scenes depicting gender violence in an attempt to raise awareness. Their pleas that harassment and gender violence be brought to a stop inspired me, but what has resounded within me is their optimism about the future. The tight-t-shirt-wearing, sharp-tongued young women who are unapologetically speaking out (despite everything they’ve been taught) made me realize two things: one – while we may come from opposite sides of the world, we share similar struggles as women; two – they’re a great deal braver than I.
After a few days of settling in to my new home in Fes, I slowly noticed a trend in the family dynamics. My host mother and sister usually remained at home throughout the day, not leaving the apartment and instead devoting their time to working around the house. Meanwhile, my brother, Ahmeen, would leave in the morning and come back home very late at night. So, I began to ask myself, when would the women get to relax and destress like Ahmeen does?
Unsurprisingly, my initial view of Moroccan society was completely wrong. Coming home late one evening, I walked into our home to find an overwhelming number of women and children socializing in the main living room. I was shocked because every other day the apartment had only ever been filled with my host family. As I walked in, Ahmeen was preparing to leave. Seeing me, he chuckled and said, “It is a party for women. I am not allowed and so I am leaving for the night.”
Initially, this made me uncomfortable. I felt as if I was intruding on a private gathering and so retreated to my bedroom. I sat there listening to cheerful singing, laughter, and music, with no idea what was happening on the other side of my bedroom door. However, after an hour I mustered the courage to walk out of my room and see what was going on. As soon as they saw me, these women cheered and excitedly beckoned for me to come join them. I could not have expected what I saw. A mountain of sweets, cakes, and assorted nuts sat atop a center table. About 10 women and their respective children sat around, dancing, singing, and clapping to the beat of a Moroccan song that blasted out of a complex stereo system. An overwhelming smell of incense filled the room, caused by a burning pot on the center table.
My host sister, with her daughter sitting next to her, proudly called me over to look at the henna tattoos she’d had drawn over her hands and feet. Slowly, I managed to discover that these women and children were all related, and they had gathered to celebrate one another and have some fun.
This party lasted late into the night, so late that as I was going to sleep they showed no signs of slowing down. But, as I lay in bed, I looked back at what I had just experienced and realized the significance of it.
This celebration had allowed Moroccan women, in a dominantly patriarchal society, to cut off some steam, be away from their husbands, and get some much needed bonding time with one another. I realized the privacy of their own homes might be the only place they would be able to relax in this traditional society. I was incredibly glad that I was able to witness this event, as it made me more accustomed to the culture that I had thrown myself into. This event also helped me realize that women who are forced to act and dress conservatively aren’t necessarily like that, and that they love to have fun, dance, and laugh together in the same way that everyone else does. I have respected and cared for my host mother and sister so much more since witnessing this event, and it has helped me embrace this different society and be more excited for what else I will experience.
(While no pictures were allowed at the party, these treats are similar to the ones that were provided)
(The bedroom which we hid in before walking out and joining the party)
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