Beyond “Bestiality”: The Unmarked Night of the Soul in Duʿāʾ 1 of al-Ṣaḥīfa al-Sajjādiyya

بِسْمِ اللَّهِ الرَّحْمَٰنِ الرَّحِيمِ

Anyone who has spent time with the opening duʿāʾ of al-Ṣaḥīfa al-Sajjādiyya knows the moment. Imam Zayn al-ʿĀbidīn (ʿa) turns to describe the human being who grows content with fleeting pleasures, and then the prayer says:

فَمِنْهُمْ مَنْ لَتَصَرَّفُوا فِي مِنَنِهِ فَلَمْ يَحْمَدُوهُ، وَتَوَسَّعُوا فِي رِزْقِهِ فَلَمْ يَشْكُرُوهُ، وَلَوْ كَانُوا كَذٰلِكَ لَخَرَجُوا مِنْ حُدُودِ الْإِنْسَانِيَّةِ إِلَىٰ حَدِّ الْبَهِيمِيَّةِ
There are among them those who dispose freely of His gifts but do not praise Him (fa-lam yaḥmadūhu), and who expand in His provision but do not thank Him (fa-lam yashkurūhu). Were they to remain thus, they would exit the boundaries of humanity and enter the limit of al-bahīmiyyah.

For generations, translators and commentators have rendered al-bahīmiyyah as “bestiality” or “the level of brute beasts.” The image is stark: a human being, by abandoning the path of conscious devotion, degrades himself to the rank of an animal. There is truth in this reading, but it rests on an assumption that may not do justice to the Arabic root or to the Qurʾān’s own depiction of the animal world — and, crucially, it can close the door to a deeper spiritual insight the Imam is placing before us.

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بِسْمِ اللَّهِ الرَّحْمَٰنِ الرَّحِيمِ

The Secret of the Single Chain: Why the Greatest Du‘ās Came Through One Narrator

If you have ever recited Du‘ā’ Kumayl on a Thursday night or Du‘ā’ Abū Ḥamza al-Thumālī in the pre-dawn hours of Ramaḍān, you may have noticed something curious. These supplications, almost always trace back to a single companion of the Imāms. Du‘ā’ Kumayl was taught by Imām ‘Alī (a) to one man: Kumayl ibn Ziyād. Du‘ā’ Abū Ḥamza was entrusted solely to Abū Ḥamza al-Thumālī by Imām Zayn al-‘Ābidīn (a). Al-Ziyārah al-Jāmi‘a al-Kabīra came to us through a single narrator, Mūsā ibn ‘Abd Allāh al-Nakha‘ī, from Imām ‘Alī al-Hādī (a). The same pattern repeats for many of our most treasured texts.

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The Symbolism of Tawaf al-Nisa’ in Islamic Teachings

This article examines several Shia narrations concerning the voyage of Noah’s Ark and its performance of Tawaf al-Nisa’ before landing on Mount Judi. Drawing on hadith from *Al-Kafi*, *Uyun Akhbar al-Rida*, and *Kamil al-Ziyarat*, the study traces how these texts construct a symbolic framework in which the Ark’s ritual journey is explored as a spiritual path. 

Particular attention is given to the concept of *tawāḍuʿ* (humility) from a psycho-spiritual perspective, the quality by which Mount Judi was chosen as the Ark’s resting place, and its relationship to the final Hajj rite. (Click here to read article)

**The Ark’s Final Orbit: Tawaf al-Nisa’ and the Symbolism of Humility in Shia Hadith**

The Ark’s Hajj Rituals**

The first hadith, from the Book of Hajj in *Al-Kafi*, establishes the Ark’s complete pilgrimage itinerary:

> Muhammad ibn Yahya has narrated from certain individuals of his people from al-Washsha from Ali ibn abu Hamzah who has said the following: “Abu al-Hassan, Alayhi al-Salam, once said to me, ‘Noah’s Ark was commanded to perform Tawaf around the House as the land was submerged in water then it went to Mina during its days, then it returned back and it was commanded to perform Tawaf around the House in the form of Tawaf of women.'”[^1]

This narration maps the Ark’s voyage onto the rites of Hajj: an initial Tawaf performed during the flood, a station at Mina during its appointed days, and a final return for an explicitly identified Tawaf al-Nisa’. The sequence is significant. The Ark, in times of turmoil, when and where the entirety of earth has been submerged, does not seek the safety of dry land first but orients itself toward the Kaaba. Mina, the station of gathering and stoning of all that is the devil and demonic, represents a necessary intermediate phase. The final Tawaf, designated “Tawaf of women,” is presented as the concluding rite.

Mina symbolizes the necessary pause in the spiritual itinerary, the days of reflection where the pilgrim, having arrived and circumambulated, now sits in the tent of divine hospitality, casting away inner stones of pride, haste, and self-reliance.

Then it returns. The Ark returns to the House for the final Tawaf, explicitly named in the hadith as “the Tawaf of Women.” This is Tawaf al-Nisa’. The journey that began with a Tawaf – an orientation of arrival, in the midst of a literal ‘end of the world,’ now concludes with a Tawaf of completion and lawfulness. In the juristic realm, this Tawaf is that which makes the spouse lawful again. But here, in the symbolic realm of the Ark, we must contemplate and reflect: what is being made lawful? What love is being sanctified by this final orbit around the Beloved’s House? If a marriage is being launched in the juristic realm, what could the symbolism of the Ark completing the Tawaf al-Nisa mean – that we may carry with us?

A second narration provides the Ark’s dimensions and confirms the full ritual cycle:

> Ali ibn Ibrahim has narrated from his father from ibn Mahbub, from al-Hassan ibn Salih who has said the following: “Abu Abd Allah, Alayhi al-Salam, has said, ‘I heard abu Jafar, Alayhi al-Salam, when speaking to Ata say, “The length of the Ark of Noah was one thousand two hundred yards, its width was eight hundred and its height was two hundred yards. The Ark performed Tawaf around the House and Sa’y between al-Safa and al-Marwah seven times, then it took a stationary position on al-Judiy.”‘”[^2]

The Ark thus completes Tawaf and Sa’y—the two primary rites of movement in Hajj—before coming to rest.

**2. The Landing and the Humility of Judi**

A third narration, from the Book of Belief and Disbelief in *Al-Kafi*, provides the decisive account of the landing. The hadith’s immediate context is a question about sacrifice, to which Imam Musa al-Kadhim, peace be upon him, responds with the Ark narrative:

> It is narrated from him (narrator of the Hadith above) from his father from Ali ibn al-Hakam in a marfu manner from abu Basir who has said the following: “Once I went to see abu al-Hassan Musa, Alayhi al-Salam, and it was in the year that abu Abd Allah, Alayhi al-Salam, had passed away. I asked, ‘May Allah keep my soul in service for your cause, how is it that you offered a sheep as sacrifice and so and so offered a camel?’ The Imam said, ‘O abu Muhammad, Noah was in the ark in which there were things that Allah wanted. The ark was commanded to go seven times around the house. That is Tawaf al-Nisa (walking seven times around the House for women). Noah left the ark free. Allah, the Most Majestic, the Most Holy, inspired the mountains of His decision to allow the ark of Noah, His servant, land on one of the mountains. They all raised and stretched themselves higher. Only Mount Judi which is a mountain near you remained humble. The ark then placed itself on Mount Judi.’ The Imam said, ‘Noah then said, “O Mari atqan, an Assyrian expression, meaning O Lord, make things go well.”‘ I (the narrator) then thought abu al-Hassan, Alayhi al-Salam, was applying it to his own case.”[^3]

The key term is **تَوَاضَعَ** (*tawāḍaʿa*), translated as “remained humble.” The verb is active and reflexive: Judi consciously lowered itself. The other mountains, by contrast, raised and stretched themselves higher (*taṭāwalat*), seeking selection through self-elevation. Only Judi’s self-lowering qualified it. The sequence established here is theologically significant: Tawaf al-Nisa’ is immediately followed by the test of humility. The completion of Hajj does not culminate in a triumphant ascent but in a quiet descent upon the lowly mountain. 

**3. The Ark as the Ahl al-Bayt**

The fourth narration supplies the hermeneutical key for interpreting all the preceding accounts. From *Uyun Akhbar al-Rida*, the Prophet, peace be upon him and his household, states:

> According to the same documentation, God’s Prophet, peace be upon him and his household, said, “The similitude of the members of my Household among you is like that of Noah’s Ark. Whoever boarded it was saved, and whoever strayed away from it was thrown into the Fire.”[^4]

The physical Ark is a prefiguration of the Ahl al-Bayt. Their historical and spiritual journey through the ages is the true journey of salvation. Consequently, the Ark’s Tawaf, Sa’y, and station at Mina are not merely events in primordial history but symbols of the spiritual stations embodied by the Imams. If we examine the nature of the physical Ark, we can begin to see that mode of existence of the Ahl al-Bayt is an orbit around the House.

**4. The Ark’s Sacred Cargo**

A fifth narration, from *Kamil al-Ziyarat*, reveals a further dimension to the Ark’s journey. The context is a dialogue about the Ziyarat of Amir al-Mu’minin, peace be upon him, at Najaf:

> Mufaddal Ibne Umar said: I went to Imam Sadiq, peace be upon him, and said, “I yearn to go to Ghari!” “Why?” asked the Imam. “Because I love Amirul Momineen, peace be upon him, and would like to go for his Ziyarat.” “Do you know the excellence of his Ziyarat?” “No, O son of Allah’s Messenger! Tell me about it.” “When you intend to perform the Ziyarat of Amirul Momineen, peace be upon him, know that you will do the Ziyarat of the bones of Adam, peace be upon him, body of Nuh, peace be upon him, and the body of Amirul Momineen, peace be upon him.” I asked, “Adam, peace be upon him, landed in Sarandib at the place of the rising of the Sun, and it is commonly believed that his bones were buried in Kaaba. So how can you say that he is in Kufa?” Imam replied: “When Nuh, peace be upon him, was in the ark, Almighty Allah revealed to him to go circle the Kaaba seven times. Nuh complied. Then he descended from the ark, went into the knee deep water till he brought out a coffin containing the bones of Adam, peace be upon him. He brought it to his ark and continued circling the Kaaba as long as Allah had willed. Then he moved to Kufa, went inside Kufa Masjid with his ark and stopped in the middle. This is where Allah revealed to the earth, ‘Swallow your water’ (11:44). So the earth swallowed its water beginning from Kufa Masjid, from where the deluge had originally begun. Then those who were with Nuh in the ark each went in different directions. Nuh carried the coffin and buried it in Ghari which is the part of the mountain on which Allah spoke to Musa, peace be upon him, purified Isa, peace be upon him, chose Ibrahim, peace be upon him, as his friend, and chose Muhammad, peace be upon him and his household, as His beloved. Allah chose that land as the abode of prophets. By Allah, no one more honorable than Amirul Momineen, peace be upon him, has ever lived there after his purified ancestors, Adam and Nuh, peace be upon them. So when you intend to go to Najaf, perform the Ziyarat of the bones of Adam, peace be upon him, body of Nuh, peace be upon him, and the body of Ali Ibne Abi Talib, peace be upon him. You will have gone to the Ziyarat of the first ancestor of His Eminence, Muhammad, peace be upon him and his household, who is the last prophet, and of Ali, peace be upon him, chief of successors. You should know that the doors of heavens open for the visitor of His Eminence, so do not be ignorant of this great blessing.”[^5]

The Ark now emerges as a vehicle of transmission, not merely preservation. It carries the bones of Adam—the first human, the first prophet, the bearer of the primordial covenant—from the Kaaba to Najaf. The first Tawaf is preparatory; the extended Tawaf with the coffin aboard is a procession of guardianship. The Ark functions as a mobile sanctuary, circling the House while bearing the seed of all prophethood. The landing at Kufa, from which the flood originated and to which it returned, completes a cycle of sacred geography: the trust travels from its ancient shrine to its destined sanctuary. 

**5. Tawaf al-Nisa’ and the Covenant of Love**

Tawaf al-Nisa’ acquires meaning beyond its juristic function of a conclusion of Hajj. The Ark that is the Ahl al-Bayt performs the final circumambulation as a sealing act. This rite represents the bond of *walaya*—allegiance and love to the Prophet’s Household—that makes the entirety of life lawful and blessed. 

**6. The Concept of Tawāḍuʿ: A Linguistic and Spiritual Analysis**

The humility of Mount Judi, expressed through the verb *tawāḍaʿa*, merits closer examination. The triliteral root *w-ḍ-ʿ* carries the core meaning of “to put” or “to place,” standing in opposition to *rafaʿa* (to raise). In classical Arabic, the same root describes the swift gait of a camel: *waḍaʿa al-baʿīru* means “the camel sped,” because swift movement consists of repeatedly placing the hoof upon the ground. The act of placing is simultaneously an act of moving.

This linguistic structure yields a spiritual principle. The mountains that raised themselves—the literal meaning of their response—were arrested in self-display. Their upward reach produced immobility. Judi, by placing itself down, became the site where the sacred journey could conclude. Humility is not stasis but the condition of motion; pride and arrogance is not elevation but paralysis.

Imam Ali, peace be upon him, formulates this principle with precision:

> Know that the one who does not abase himself in front of Allah has no honor, and that the one who does not humble himself before Allah has no elevation.[^6]

The saying establishes humility as a necessary condition: without self-abasement before God, honor is unattainable; without *tawāḍuʿ*, elevation cannot occur. Judi exemplifies this law. The mountain that lowered itself was raised to become the resting place of the Ark.

7. The Ego as Instrument: A Psychological Dimension**

The Judi narrative implies a particular understanding of the ego’s role. The mountains are not destroyed; they are summoned and tested. Judi does not dissolve into the flood but remains a mountain—solid and enduring—but one that has performed the act of placing itself in equilibrium in relation to God. This suggests a model in which the *nafs* is not an enemy to be annihilated but a mount to be directed.

The linguistic data support this reading. The camel that performs *waḍʿ* does not cease to be a camel; it becomes a swiftly moving one. Similarly, the ego that repeatedly equilibrates becomes the instrument of spiritual progress. The ego that inflates itself—the mountains that stretched higher—becomes incapable of receiving the sacred. But the ego that deflates into nothingness cannot bear the weight of the divine trust either. Judi represents the integrated middle path: sufficient in substance to carry the Ark, sufficiently humble to be chosen. The ego of *tawāḍuʿ*—becomes the site where the journey of *walaya* comes to rest. The pilgrim who has completed Tawaf al-Nisa’ returns not as a conqueror of spiritual heights but as one whose self has been made capable of receiving the divine presence – who may even return to the world as a creative being ready to teach to strengthen deen (the way) and the muslim community. 

The Ark, the Flood, and the New Beginning: A Reflection

The state of ihram is a state of suspension. The pilgrim who wears the two white cloths steps out of ordinary life and into a condition of consecrated liminality. All that was previously lawful—the trimming of hair, the wearing of scent, the intimacy of spouses—is temporarily forbidden. 

The pilgrim is suspended between a world left behind and a world yet to be re-entered. This suspension is the flood. The deluge that submerged the earth in the time of Noah was not merely a punishment but a cosmic re-enactment of what every pilgrim undergoes: the washing away of all that had been accumulated, all that had been sewn onto the soul, all the garments of worldly identity that had covered over the original human form.

In this flood, the pilgrim is not left adrift. There is an Ark. The hadith from Uyun Akhbar al-Rida has already told us its true name: “The similitude of the members of my Household among you is like that of Noah’s Ark. Whoever boarded it was saved, and whoever strayed away from it was thrown into the Fire.” The Ahl al-Bayt are the vessel of salvation upon the waters of dissolution. To be in ihram is to be aboard this Ark. The pilgrim’s entire existence during the Hajj is a being-carried by the Prophet’s Household, a being-sheltered within their walaya while the flood does its purifying work.

But the flood does not last forever. The waters must recede, and the pilgrim must return to the world. The question is: how does one return? How does one exit the state of suspension and begin again? The answer, given across the narrations we have examined, is Tawaf al-Nisa’. The Ark, having completed its initial Tawaf of arrival, its Sa’y of striving, and its station at Mina, returns to the House for the final circumambulation. 

It is this last orbit—explicitly named Tawaf al-Nisa’—that permits the settling upon land. Without it, the Ark cannot come to rest. Without it, the pilgrim remains suspended in ihram, unable to resume the lawful intimacies of life. Tawaf al-Nisa’ is the rite of re-entry, the seal that marks the transition from consecration back to creation.

What is saved through this process? Only that which was carried by the Ark. The flood washes away everything that was sewn onto us—the false identities, the acquired vanities, the borrowed garments of status and pride. But what is preserved within the Ark—the covenant, the walaya, the primordial bond of love with the Ahl al-Bayt—survives the deluge intact. The coffin of Adam, retrieved from the waters and borne through the Tawaf, is the symbol of this preservation. The original human, the bearer of the divine names, is not lost. The flood strips away the additions so that the original may live again.

And then the Ark settles. It does not settle on the highest peak, on the mountain that declared its own majesty. It settles on Judi, the mountain that practiced tawāḍuʿ, that consciously lowered itself before God. This is the teaching of the Ahl al-Bayt, the quality they embody and demand of their followers. The Ark does not deposit the pilgrim on a throne. It places them on humble ground. 

To begin again in the world after the flood is not to emerge as a conqueror, not to be haughty, not to claim spiritual superiority for having completed the pilgrimage. It is to begin as a servant, on the lowly mountain, in the station of humility. The Ahl al-Bayt save us not for our own glory but for God’s. Their teaching is the teaching of tawāḍuʿ: the one who abases himself before Allah is the one who receives honor; the one who humbles himself is the one who is elevated.

From this humble mountain, the creative work of the world can begin again. The pilgrim, now released from ihram, returns to the ordinary—but with a new beginning. The flood has washed the canvas clean. The Ark has preserved what is essential. The landing on Judi has established the posture: humility before God, service to His creation. Now the work can commence. Now the lawful world, the world of marriage and labor and daily bread, can be re-entered not as a distraction from the sacred but as an arena hallowed by the covenant that was sealed in the final Tawaf.

This is the pattern established at the very beginning of human time. When Adam and Eve first descended to earth—when the first world began—it was after their own completion of a primordial Hajj, their own Tawaf al-Nisa’ that made lawful their life together on this earth. 

Every pilgrimage is a return to that first beginning, a re-enactment of the archetypal pattern. The flood of Noah is the flood of every ihram. The Ark of the Ahl al-Bayt rides upon every deluge. The humble mountain receives every Ark. And the pilgrim, stepping off the vessel onto the lowly ground of Judi, becomes Adam again—a beginner, a servant, a lover of God and His chosen ones, ready to newly begin the creative work of this world in this earth.

**8. Conclusion**

The six narrations examined here construct a coherent symbolic landscape. Noah, called to build an ark of obedience. The Ark is the Ahl al-Bayt, the ship of salvation upon the flood of misguidance. The first Tawaf is the orientation of arrival. Sa’y is the striving between hope and fear. Mina is the patient station of purification. The coffin of Adam is the primordial covenant transmitted through prophetic succession. Tawaf al-Nisa’ is the sealing orbit of love and allegiance that makes lawful the life of return. Mount Judi is the station of humility, the quality without which the sacred cannot find a dwelling. And Najaf is the terminal sanctuary, where the bones of the first prophet, the body of Noah, and the body of the first Imam lie together, awaiting the visitation of those who have completed their own Tawaf of love.

**References**

[^1]: Al-Kulayni, *Al-Kafi*, Vol. 4, Book of Hajj, Chapter: Hajj of the Prophets, Hadith #1.

[^2]: Al-Kulayni, *Al-Kafi*, Vol. 4, Book of Hajj, Chapter: Hajj of the Prophets, Hadith #2.

[^3]: Al-Kulayni, *Al-Kafi*, Vol. 2, Book of Belief and Disbelief, Chapter: Humbleness, Hadith #11.

[^4]: Al-Shaykh al-Saduq, *Uyun Akhbar al-Rida*, Hadith #10, Traditions about al-Ridha.

[^5]: Ibn Qulawayh, *Kamil al-Ziyarat*, Chapter 10, Hadith #2.

[^6]: *Tuhaf al-‘Uqul*, no. 366.

Placing of The Self (3)

A Decolonial PsychoSocial Ethics of Tawāḍuʿ (voluntary humbleness)

Introduction

The virtue of humility occupies a central place in Islamic ethics. Yet humility is not a simple or univocal concept. Its meaning shifts according to social position and orientation. Imam Ali ibn Abi Talib (peace be upon him) articulated this complexity with precision. In a saying recorded in *Nahj al-Balaghah*, he states:

مَا أَحْسَنَ تَوَاضُعَ الْأَغْنِيَاءِ لِلْفُقَرَاءِ طَلَبًا لِمَا عِنْدَ اللَّهِ، وَأَحْسَنُ مِنْهُ تِيهُ الْفُقَرَاءِ عَلَى الْأَغْنِيَاءِ اتِّكَالًا عَلَى اللَّهِ

How good it is for the rich to show humility before the poor, seeking what is with Allah. And better than that is the haughtiness of the poor toward the rich, trusting in Allah.

This brief statement contains a profound ethical theory: it praises humility (*tawāḍuʿ*) for the rich and haughtiness (*tīh*) for the poor—two seemingly opposed postures grounded in a single vertical orientation toward God.

The Linguistic Framework

The root و ض ع (w-ḍ-ʿ) means “to place.” Tawāḍuʿ denotes the voluntary act of placing oneself down—lowering the ego, assuming humility. Its conceptual opposite is rafaʿa (to raise), from which tīh (haughtiness) derives—a dignified standing upright. Imam Ali repurposes *tīh* as positive when grounded not in arrogance but in trust in Allah (*tawakkul*). The saying establishes a reciprocal but asymmetrical ethics: the rich are called to place themselves down before the poor; the poor are called to stand upright before the rich.

The Rich Person’s Humility

The rich person’s humility toward the poor, motivated by “seeking what is with Allah,” is an act of worship, not social strategy. The rich person recognizes wealth as a divine trust. Voluntary downward placement resists wealth’s natural inflation of the ego, enabling freedom from attachment to material status.

The Poor Person’s Haughtiness

More striking is the poor person’s *tīh* as “better.” Though *tīh* normally connotes arrogance, Imam Ali redeems it as dignity grounded in *tawakkul*. The poor person who trusts in God does not need to humble themself before the rich for provision. They stand upright in recognition that poverty does not diminish worth before God.

The Vertical Foundation

What unites both postures is shared orientation toward the Divine. The rich person humbles themself before the poor *for God’s sake*; the poor person stands upright before the rich *in trust in God*. Neither posture is ultimately about the other person. Both are acts of worship on the horizontal plane expressing vertical relationship.

The Economic Dimension

This framework finds its economic correlate in the Quranic understanding of provision (*rizq*) and spending (*infaq*). Surah Al-Baqarah (2:2-3) describes the God-conscious as those who spend from what God has provided. God alone is *Ar-Rāziq* (the Provider). Wealth is a divine trust. The believer’s duty is not to hoard but to distribute justly. The rich person’s humility acknowledges this structural reality; the poor person’s haughtiness refuses psychological subordination.

Critique of Spontaneous, Class-Divided Society

When wealth circulates spontaneously without conscious collective direction, society divides into antagonistic classes. This spontaneous order is the material embodiment of the spiritual error Imam Ali corrects. The remedy is twofold: the rich must place themselves down as stewards; the poor must stand upright as dignified recipients. Together, these postures enable conscious collective direction.

A Decolonial Psychological Perspective

Imam Ali’s teaching acquires additional depth when read through a decolonial psychological lens. Coloniality operates not only through economic extraction and political domination but also through the internalization of hierarchy. The colonized subject is trained to experience humility (depression) before the powerful as natural, necessary, and even virtuous. Conversely, the powerful are trained to experience their own elevation (inflated ego) as deserved and their humility as gracious condescension rather than structural obligation.

This colonial psychic economy inverts Imam Ali’s ethical framework. Under coloniality, the poor—particularly the racialized, Indigenous, or otherwise subjugated poor—are systematically taught *dhull* (imposed humiliation) disguised as virtue. They are told that patience, humility, and gratitude toward the materially powerful are religious duties. Meanwhile, the rich and powerful are encouraged to perform a selective, self-congratulatory humility (charity excluding justice) that never questions the underlying structure of injustice. The colonial subject internalizes the oppressor’s gaze, learning to see their own poverty as proof of inferiority and the rich person’s wealth as proof of divine favor.

Imam Ali’s teaching performs a radical decolonial operation. By commanding *tīh* (haughtiness) for the poor and *tawāḍuʿ* (humility) for the rich, he reverses the colonial psychic order. The poor are not only permitted but *commanded* to refuse internalized subordination. Their upright standing is the recovery of dignity. It is a psychological decolonization: the poor person’s trust in Allah severs the psychic link between material lack and spiritual worth. The rich, in turn, are commanded to a humility that is not performative but structural: placing themselves down before the poor means recognizing that their wealth is not a mark of superiority but a trust requiring redistribution.

Furthermore, the decolonial lens reveals why tīh is described as "better" than the rich person's humility. The rich person's tawāḍuʿ, however virtuous, remains an act of those who hold material power. It does not by itself dismantle hierarchy. But the poor person's tīh—their refusal to bow—strikes at the root of the colonial psychic economy. It breaks the spell that makes hierarchy seem natural. Without this upright standing, the rich person's humility risks becoming mere noblesse oblige: a gracious gesture that leaves the colonized psyche intact. The poor person's haughtiness is therefore not only ethically superior but strategically necessary for genuine decolonization.

A Differentiated Collective Ethics

For the rich, tawāḍuʿ resists ego-inflation and must be matched by structural action—just distribution through collective channels. For the poor, dignified tīh refuses self-abasement and must be matched by collective organization preventing economic coercion. For the community, the posture is conscious collective stewardship—building institutions that embody God’s sole providership and humanity’s trusteeship. From a decolonial perspective, this collective stewardship is precisely the work of building alternatives to colonial-capitalist social relations.

Conclusion

Imam Ali’s saying offers an ethics of social encounter grounded in vertical orientation toward God. The rich person’s humility and the poor person’s haughtiness are complementary expressions of the same truth: worth is measured not by wealth but by orientation toward the Divine. The decolonial psychological perspective reveals that this teaching is also a therapy for the colonized psyche—a restoration of dignity to those trained to internalize their own subordination. The poor are freed from poverty by standing upright before the rich, breaking the psychic spell of coloniality. The rich are freed from wealth (and a misplaced / inflated ego) by humbling themselves before the poor, relinquishing the false superiority that exploitation requires. And the community is freed from spontaneous, antagonistic development by consciously directing collective life according to divine law. All enact the same truth: only God is worthy of ultimate humility, trust in God is the source of all true dignity, and just distribution is the concrete expression of both.

The Placing of Self (2)

The Refusal of Humiliation as a Decolonial Psychospiritual Practice: Imam Husayn and the Dignity of the Placed Self

The previous article on The Placing of Self explored the root **و ض ع** (w-ḍ-ʿ) and its spiritual dimensions, focusing on Imam Ali’s teaching that honor comes through abasement before Allah (*tadhalul*) and elevation through humility (*tawāḍuʿ*). That framework situated the ego as neither inflated nor destroyed but properly placed—like a camel that lowers itself to move swiftly.

Yet this raises a question. On the plains of Karbala, Imam Husayn (peace be upon him) declared: هَيْهَاتَ مِنَّا الذِّلَّةُ — “Far from us is humiliation.” How can the grandson of the Prophet reject humiliation while his father declares that there is no honor without abasement before Allah? The resolution lies in a critical linguistic and spiritual distinction between tadhalul (voluntary abasement before God) and dhull (imposed humiliation before tyrants). This article suggests that Imam Husayn’s cry does not contradict his father’s teaching but completes it—supplying the necessary horizontal dimension of resistance to a vertical relationship of submission to the Divine.

The Linguistic Distinction: Two Kinds of Lowliness

The root ذ ل ل (dh-l-l) generates two radically different concepts often conflated in translation. *Tadhalul* (Form V, تَفَعُّل) denotes active, voluntary, chosen lowliness directed toward Allah alone. Its posture is the worshipper in prostration (*sajdah*), and its result is honor (*ʿizz*), elevation (*rifʿah*), and nearness to God. This is the gesture of the Prophet Muhammad praying until his feet swelled, replying to inquiry: “Should I not be a grateful servant?” It is the downward gesture that enables spiritual motion.

*Dhull* (Form I, فَعْل), by contrast, in this context, signifies involuntary, coerced, imposed lowliness inflicted by oppressors or false authorities. Its posture is the prisoner in chains or the colonized subject forced to bow to injustice. Its result is dishonor, immobility, spiritual death, and distance from God. The Quran repeatedly warns against this condition, describing those who follow tyrants into hellfire. Dhull is not an act of worship but a condition of violation—it does not draw one nearer to God but annuls the dignity He has bestowed on every human being.

The Grammar of Rejection: *Hayhāta*

Imam Husayn’s phrase opens with هَيْهَاتَ (*hayhāta*), an Arabic particle of ontological impossibility. It declares that something is so far removed, so utterly inconceivable, that it belongs to an entirely different order of existence. When Imam Husayn says *hayhāta minnā adh-dhillah*, he is not expressing a strategic preference but an existential impossibility: humiliation cannot even be conceived in relation to us. The word order—rejection, then subject, then rejected object—announces: “Impossible—for us—humiliation.” This impossibility is rooted in identity: as the family of the Prophet, as those who have placed themselves before Allah, humiliation is incompatible with their very being.

The Vertical and the Horizontal: Completing Imam Ali’s Teaching

Imam Ali’s teaching addresses the vertical dimension: the relationship between servant and Creator. Honor and elevation come through tadhalul before God. Imam Husayn’s cry addresses the horizontal dimension: the relationship between the servant and tyrants, oppressors, and false authorities. Forced humiliation (*dhull*) is categorically incompatible with the dignity of those who have submitted to Allah. These two movements are not separate but identical: the soul that moves toward God necessarily moves against false gods, including the false god of tyrannical power.

Karbala (61 AH/680 CE) manifests this distinction historically. Yazid’s governor demanded that Imam Husayn pledge allegiance (*bay’ah*)—a public act of submission that would have legitimized a corrupt and tyrannical regime. Imam Husayn refused. Surrounded on the plains of Karbala, cut off from water, with his companions facing certain death, he was again offered submission. His response was an act of worship: dhull before a tyrant would contradict tadhalul before Allah. The same soul that prostrated to God could not bow to Yazid. The vertical act of placing oneself down before God makes possible the horizontal act of standing upright before tyrants. The one who has truly humbled themselves before the Creator cannot be humiliated by any creature.

The Paradox of Dignified Death

Imam Husayn and his companions were killed. From a worldly perspective, they experienced defeat. Yet Islamic tradition has never understood Karbala as dhull but as the ultimate victory—of principle over power, of truth over falsehood. Imam Husayn’s death was not humiliation but the supreme act of tadhalul before Allah, bringing eternal honor. As the Quran states: “And do not think of those who have been killed in the cause of Allah as dead. Rather, they are alive with their Lord, receiving provision” (3:169). The martyr does not experience *dhull* but the highest *tadhalul*, which is the path to the highest *ʿizz*.

The Ego Properly Placed: Neither Inflated Nor Crushed

Returning to the Jungian framework of the previous article, two extremes endanger the ego. **Inflation** (*kibr*, *ujb*) refuses placement, mistakes itself for divine, and results in spiritual immobility. Crushing (dhull) is forced down by external power, loses all sense of dignity, and results in psychological destruction. The path of *tawāḍuʿ* avoids both. The properly placed ego voluntarily assumes *tadhalul* before Allah, which gives it the strength to refuse *dhull* before tyrants. Imam Husayn embodies this third state: his nightly prayers, weeping, and prostration were the source of his refusal to accept humiliation before Yazid. From a depth psychology perspective, his ego was neither inflated (he did not claim divinity or seek worldly power) nor crushed (he did not submit to illegitimate authority). It was consciously, humbly, and courageously related to what transcends it—the goal of individuation as the ego that knows its proper place and can therefore act with freedom and integrity.

Decolonial Implications: The Refusal of *Dhull* as Liberation

The previous article developed a decolonial reading of *tawāḍuʿ* as a practice rejecting the colonizer’s inflated ego. Imam Husayn’s cry adds a crucial dimension. Colonialism is not merely economic exploitation or political domination but the systematic imposition of *dhull*—the forced humiliation of entire peoples. The colonized subject is told of their inferiority, that submission is the only path to dignity. When Imam Husayn declares *hayhāta minnā adh-dhillah*, he offers a model for every colonized and oppressed people: humiliation cannot be conceived in relation to us because we belong to God alone. This is not a rejection of humility but a rejection of false humility—the forced submission to illegitimate authority that contemporary colonizers call peace and order. From this perspective, Imam Husayn is a decolonial figure par excellence: he refused to legitimate a tyrannical regime, refused to place his hand in the hand of an oppressor, and refused to give religious legitimacy to political injustice. His humility before God was the source of his dignity before tyrants. The people who have truly placed themselves down before God cannot be forced down by anyone.

The Integration: Placed Down, Standing Upright

Imam Ali teaches the source of dignity: abasement before Allah. Imam Husayn manifests the consequence: refusal of humiliation before tyrants. Together they form a single teaching: place yourself down before God, and you will never be forced down by anyone else. Humble yourself before the Creator, and you will stand upright before every creature. Say “no” to your own ego in the presence of Allah, and you will say “no” to every tyrant.

Conclusion: The Dignity of the Placed Self

Imam Husayn’s cry—*hayhāta minnā adh-dhillah*—does not contradict Imam Ali’s teaching but completes it. It is the horizontal manifestation of a vertical relationship, the political consequence of a spiritual posture. The camel that places its hoof moves swiftly; the soul that places itself before God moves toward the Divine and, in that movement, finds the strength to refuse every false authority. *Tadhalul* before Allah is the source of dignity; *dhull* before tyrants is its betrayal. The one who has truly placed themselves down cannot be forced down. On the plains of Karbala, surrounded by enemies, cut off from water, his companions falling, Imam Husayn declared humiliation impossible—not from pride, but because he had already bowed to Allah alone, and that bowing made him upright forever. The placed self is the free self. The humble self is the dignified self. The one who prostrates to God will never kneel to a tyrant.

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