A Dialogue on Deobandi Methodology

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The following translation of an article by Dr. Mohammad Akram Nadwi has been generated using AI. While every effort has been made to ensure accuracy and maintain the original tone and context, readers are encouraged to refer to the original article for full comprehension: Original Article

In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful
My Question Got Lost
By Dr. Mohammad Akram Nadwi
Oxford

We have a dear and sincere friend who is an exemplary scholar and a unique jurist, a successor to Ibn Mansur, Ibn Arabi, and Sarmad in interpreting knowledge and truths. He is an undisputed authority among the elite and the common people in defending the methodology of the Deobandi school and in identifying and refuting misguided groups and heretical sects.

We also have another sincere friend, Professor Muhammad Saleem, a distinguished writer and critic in English and Urdu, and a master in the field of research and debate. We are always learning from him and deeply admire the clarity of his thought and the purity of his ideas.

One day, Professor Saleem asked a question: “Were terms like Qutb, Abdal, and Awtad prevalent during the time of the Prophet (peace be upon him)?”

As usual, the Mufti wrote a long-winded response to the question, which, despite containing much else, did not address the question. In protest, Professor Saleem wrote, “My question got lost.” We thought this might bring some sense of shame to the Mufti, compelling him to address the question properly. But such is the Mufti’s confidence that he responded with a legendary statement, one that only those endowed with spiritual insight could craft. Referring to his unrelated response, he boldly wrote, “Search within it; you will find your answer.” Upon reading this, both the Professor and many others were left bewildered. Initially, it was the question that was lost; now, even the questioner seemed lost.

The Mufti’s Methodology

We are more impressed by the Mufti’s approach to reasoning than by his responses. The treatment he gives to logic brings us immense joy. Ibn Taymiyyah had unsettled Greek logic, but the Mufti surpasses him, burying logic itself without any formal funeral rites. When the Mufti presents an argument, we begin searching for the middle term (hadd al-wasat), as we were drilled during our studies to identify the common term between the minor (hadd asghar) and major premises (hadd akbar) to derive a conclusion.

However, in the Mufti’s reasoning, the middle term is always missing. Frustrated, we ask question after question, and while we gain much unrelated knowledge, we never find the missing term. When despair becomes unbearable, we commit the crime of rejecting his argument as valid proof—a crime that costs us dearly, exposing us to great anguish incomprehensible to the average reader.

After repeated attempts to find the missing middle term, we decided to reconstruct the minor and major premises ourselves, hoping to locate the elusive middle term. This effort led us into the abyss of “So many wishes buried in the dust.” In the Mufti’s reasoning, we repeatedly found the minor premise but never the major one. And without the major premise, how could there be a middle term?

A Conversation on Deobandi Methodology

The Mufti asserts that the Deobandi methodology is the best. We asked him for the second part of the argument to facilitate deriving a conclusion. He replied, “The Deobandi methodology is the best because it belongs to the Deobandis.” We responded, “Mufti Sahib, this second statement is not the major premise; it is merely a repetition of the minor premise.” His crushing reply: “You harbor animosity towards the Dars-e-Nizami curriculum.”

Accustomed to humiliation, we argued, “Shaykh Yunus was a graduate of the Dars-e-Nizami, and I have written two books and numerous articles on him. How, then, could I be accused of animosity towards Dars-e-Nizami?” The Mufti retorted, “If you admire Shaykh Yunus, it is only because he thought like you.” Before we could respond with a sharp rejoinder, the Mufti shifted gears, stating, “Shaykh Yunus did not even understand basic jurisprudence; he used to consult one of my teachers for minor issues.”

We felt like replying, “Comparing your teacher to Shaykh Yunus is akin to comparing the author of Nur al-Idah to Imam Bukhari.” But we restrained ourselves, certain that such a statement would provoke an equally forceful response.

Addressing the Original Question

Returning to the original topic, we asked the Mufti, “The Companions did not use terms like Qutb, Ghawth, Abdal, or Awtad. How did these terms enter Sufi terminology?” The Mufti replied, “The Companions specialized in legislative sciences, while the Sufis specialized in cosmic sciences.”

We refrained from saying, “Is belief in cosmic intervention not akin to shirk?” fearing that the Mufti might label us as enemies of the saints (awliya).

Finally, we attempted a more pointed critique: “While you verbally uphold the Companions as the standard of truth, in reality, you consider the Sufis as the standard of truth.” The Mufti, with sharp wit, countered: “Where are you connecting this discussion? The Companions are the standard of right and wrong, but here we are discussing only truth. Dragging the Companions into this matter is entirely misplaced.”

A Lover’s Dilemma

Our well-wishers might ask why we continue engaging with the Mufti despite facing repeated defeats. The reason is our profound affection for him. Life holds no joy without seeing him or conversing with him. No matter how much injustice or hardship he subjects us to, we cannot live without him:

“As cruel as he is, he remains as beloved.
None like him has ever existed, nor will there ever be.“

Original Article Link:
https://t.me/DrAkramNadwi/5734