The Importance of Exploring How Culture and Society Impact on Music Learning and Teaching
Introduction
This book is primarily concerned with the relationship between music, culture and society and how this, in turn, influences modes of communication in music learning and teaching contexts. Understanding how culture and society influence modes of transmission and acquisition for music educators is critical for all students, but particularly so if they are from culturally and linguistically diverse backgrounds. My experiences learning a range of musics in different countries and contexts has taught me to value the multitude of ways in which music knowledge and skills can be shared. As a result, I am more mindful of how I teach music to others so one mode of learning is not privileged over others. Failing to acknowledge and also utilise a range of modes and strategies would ultimately mean some music students are advantaged over others. A balanced approach that values tradition and authenticity as well as embracing innovation, I believe, is ideal and much needed in today’s music classrooms. There are, of course, a number of similarities across various music learning and teaching environments, however, it is the differences that make music practices rich and diverse. Without acknowledging these
© The Author(s) 2018
G. Barton, Music Learning and Teaching in Culturally and Socially Diverse Contexts, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-95408-0_1
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differences in institutionalised settings, we are at risk of providing education that privileges some traditions over others and therefore some modes of transmission over others. As stated previously this could potentially disadvantage some students; something I witnessed firsthand when I began my career as a music teacher in Australia some 25 years ago. In my second school environment as a music teacher, many of my students were from culturally and linguistically diverse backgrounds including Indigenous and Pasifika students. At the time, the Queensland music syllabus disadvantaged many of these students who were for the most part extremely musical yet were unable to read western music notation. Typically, these students were able to perform at a high level often times better than students who had this traditional music literacy. Even though my students were exceptionally musical they could only achieve, at best, an average result in their music studies as the syllabus privileged western art music practices and literacies. This greatly concerned me.
Despite attempts to make the syllabus more inclusive, I have unfortunately continued to observe these dominant and elitist practices, more recently in the university sector; so much so that students who want to become music teachers are being excluded from music university studies due to their training not being in the western classical music tradition. Being aware of a range of transmission modes in music learning and teaching, as well as music knowledges, is critical if music educators are to address diverse students’ learning needs and most importantly enact and embed culturally and socially responsive pedagogies in music teaching contexts such as the classroom.
Defining Key Terms
It is at this point that I think it is important to briefly define key terms use throughout this book: music, culture and society, and music learning and teaching. These will be expanded also in Chaps. 2 and 3.
Firstly, music is about the unique combinations of sounds and silences and how these can be organised in a multitude of ways to create musical works. The extent to which a particular collection of sounds and silences adheres to the cultural and social norms, rules and expectations around
music making in a particular context determines whether it can be considered a musical work. This process reflects the importance of cultural and social perspectives in understanding not only music but also how it is taught and learned. Many have also noted how music is inherently social and contributes to cultural and social cohesion and identity (Kelly, 2016; Turino, 2008). Culture and society are inextricably linked. People’s cultural beliefs and behaviours tend to become familiar within a geographical location and/or social networks such as online communities (Spradley, 2016). People define themselves, and are identified, through their culture and consequently, their society’s or group’s shared values and characteristics.
The notion of music learning and teaching, therefore, takes into account how music or organised sound (Blacking, 1973) is, in fact, transmitted by the teacher and acquired by the student within a particular cultural and social context. Of course, throughout this process, both the teacher and student can be learners and teachers, so this relationship is uniquely complex at different points in time.
The ways in which music can be taught and learnt are exponential and these vary according to the context in which such practices occur (see Chap. 3 for more detail). In much of the literature, the term music education is used to refer to how music is taught or learnt in educational settings such as schools (Kelly, 2016). Often identified as ‘formal’ learning, music education involves a set curriculum and has been noted to be mismatched to the ways of learning occurring outside a school’s confines or what is labelled ‘informal’ learning (Green, 2011). I would argue however, that music learning and teaching is cyclic and iterative and that both formal and informal learning takes place at different points in time for different music learners. I also believe that the labels of formal and informal learning do little to illustrate the practices inherent within and outside of schools (see Chap. 3 for more).
The arbitrary distinction between formal and informal perpetuates the hierarchical nature of what is privileged and valued in music education contexts. Formal methods, for example, dominate the scene on what is valued in exclusive, white-centric music teaching (with the emphasis on teaching not learning) and those identified as informal practices are relegated as practices for pleasure or being less important than teaching that
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occurs in school classrooms (see Chap. 3 for more). Of course, many scholars have attempted to acknowledge and merge these practices, but evidence suggests that classroom music education remains west-centric, linear, product- and outcomes- driven, and teacher controlled (Barnes, 2001; Barton, 2015a; Cain, 2001).
Ethnomusicologists and research in the field of ethnomusicology offer detailed analyses that explore the interaction and unique relationship that exists between music, culture and society. Some of this work has tried to bridge the dichotomous relationship between music learning and music education in institutionalised settings, with many providing empirical evidence as to the benefits such experiences have on music learners or students but also teachers.
The Relationship Between Music, Culture and Society
The relationship between music, culture and society is unsurprisingly well established in the literature. A number of early authors, for example, attempted to build greater understanding of the relationship between music, culture and society from an anthropological point of view (Blacking, 1973; Feld, 1984; Herndon & McLeod, 1982; Lomax, 1976; Merriam, 1964). Further evidence in the literature reveals that this connection is so closely aligned that the three phenomena are virtually interchangeable (Berger, 2014; Hesmondhalgh & Meier, 2017; Small, 1996; Taylor, 2001; Wade, 2008).
Given culture and society are recognised as having a strong influence on music practices it would, therefore, make sense that teachers of music utilise a range of methods to transmit content to their students. Through my experience and observations however, it appears that music teaching particularly within institutionalised settings, remains largely west-centric and teacher-centred (Barton, 2006, 2014). This is concerning, especially given the increasing diversity within many classrooms today. It could, therefore, result in students potentially disengaging in music classes and could also mean that the number of students selecting music
to study at school might continue to decline (Barton, 2015a; Jeanneret, 1997; Ng & Bahr, 2000) as their cultural and/or social needs will not be met.
This book aims to illustrate how many music traditions utilise complex combinations of modes through the process of learning and teaching. Music knowledge is both transmitted and acquired multi-modally and often encourages learners to actively participate in music knowledge processes. These processes may include different ways of knowing unfamiliar to teachers of music, however, understanding how music is transmitted and acquired in a range of cultural and social contexts is important for music educators. This understanding would enable music teachers to better address diverse students’ learning needs and not privilege one transactional mode over others. It would also mean that other culturally and socially diverse music practices are acknowledged rather than one dominating over others which continues to be reported on in the literature (Leong, 2016; MacDonald, Barton, Baguley, & Hartwig, 2016).
How Culture and Society Are Embedded in Music Practices
Research for some time has acknowledged the significant influence of cultural and social traditions on music practices (Barton, 2004; Carson & Westvall, 2016; Ellis, 1985; Volk, 2004). Indeed, some four decades ago, Lomax (1976) argued that song structure directly reflects the social structure of a given society. Feld’s (1984) work similarly noted that “for all societies, everything that is musically salient will be socially marked” (p. 406). Further, Blacking (1973) asserted that the performance and appreciation of a particular music is largely dependent upon one’s belonging to the culture in which that music exists. Understanding how culture and society influences music and vice versa, is important in a broad sense but more importantly is whether or not educators consider this significant relationship. This is particularly salient when considering the ways in which music is taught, or what modes are utilised within schooling or institutionalised contexts.
While it could be argued that the above views may overstate the relationship between music, culture and society, there is little doubt about the interconnectedness of these three phenomena and the conclusion that all music is inherently cultural in its manifestation and bears a direct relationship to the culture in which it is produced (Kotarba, 2017; Tobias, 2013). Therefore, the ways in which music is transmitted and acquired would undoubtedly be influenced by such practices.
Further, Walker’s work, for example (2001), believed that “music works as a cultural system in itself, but one which refers to and reflects the larger culture in which it was situated, and which gave it form and meaning within its own systems of thought and action” (p. 3). Similarly, Vella (2000) stated that “[music’s] definition needs to take into account variables ranging from the cultural conditioning and expectations of the participants, the social function of the music and its familiarity to the listener, to the physiological factors that affect how we listen” (p. 24).
Research within the fields of popular and contemporary music, including in higher education contexts, also indicated the importance of cultural and social collaborations (Barton, 2015b; Gaunt & Westerlund, 2013; Vulliamy & Lee, 2016). Gaunt and Westerlund (2013) highlighted the fact that music education practices in higher education are rapidly changing, requiring the need for cultural and social networks and cohesion. This, they say, was necessary for people to negotiate differences and be flexible enough to work collaboratively with each other. With such diverse conditions across the globe, it is essential that music teachers are able to adapt to, and adopt, a range of strategies when working with their students (UNESCO, 2006).
Similarly, Hecker’s (2016) work on Turkish metal music showed how music genre fusions or emergence of new revolutionary music styles require deep consideration around the social implications, as they perhaps unsettle traditional views within the same geographic area. Others have noted similar observations in terms of innovative music praxes within confined or pre-determined socio-cultural norms (Brändström, Wiklund, & Lundström, 2012; Kotarba, 2017; Shuker, 2016; Taylor, 2001; Tobias, 2013; Wall, 2013). These new and nuanced practices also
influence the ways in which the sub-genres of music are learnt; continually creating new styles and genres and hence new music teaching methods.
The perspective that music has embedded socio-cultural habits is pertinent for the premise of this book as music meaning changes within and across context, time, space and people. Understanding that the whole environment in which music is a part, and how the society shapes the organisation of sound, and equally important how sound effects and influences society, is relevant for teachers of music in schools (Dale, 2017). Further, when contemplating music teaching and learning, Elliott (1994) noted the importance of having some conception on what music actually is. He stated that:
Without a prior sense of what ‘music’ is, it is impossible to justify the place of music teaching and learning in any educational scheme, let alone explain how the significance of music might be realised in one particular scheme. (p. 9)
In an earlier paper with my colleague Kay Hartwig (Barton & Hartwig, 2012) we argued that students training to be music teachers needed to have a clear idea of what music actually is. Understanding the diverse range of music genres, teaching methods and learning styles will ultimately allow teachers to be responsive and inclusive and appreciate the ever-changing nature of these practices. Both culture and society influence these customs leading to both institutionalised and deinstitutionalised methods (Barton & Hartwig, 2012, p. 4).
Music education research internationally has also consistently acknowledged the interplay between music, culture and education for some time (Barton, 2004; Campbell, 1992; Dunbar-Hall, 1999; Nettl, 1998; Swanwick, 1999; Vulliamy & Lee, 2016; Walker, 2001). As a result, there has been, in recent times, an increasing willingness to engage the musics of other cultures outside of the traditional western music culture (Barton, 2014) and in a number of countries (Heimonen & Westvall, 2015; Wong, 2015; Wong, Pan, & Shah, 2015).
Leong (1997) for instance, commented two decades ago that:
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Classrooms are more multicultural which has led to an interest in multicultural music education and conscious efforts to integrate musics of diverse cultures into regular curriculum. (p. 120)
Twenty years on, schools are more diverse than ever so teachers’ practices should also account for this diversity (Boyce-Tillman, 2014; KellyMcHale, 2016; Southcott & Joseph, 2010; Volk, 2004).
In spite of the importance afforded the role of culture and society in music education in the literature, the relationship between music, culture and society and how these in turn impact upon music teaching practices remains largely ambiguous. In practice, little is actually known about the specific function that culture plays in guiding how music teachers’ teach. In particular, it is unclear what specific modes are used in what music cultures and why those modes are chosen over others, despite music teaching and learning utilising multimodal methods (Barton, 2004).
Additionally, not fully understood is the extent to how this knowledge may make teaching practices more effective given the multicultural nature of studios and classrooms in western education contexts. This is particularly apparent in the instrumental music teaching where a limited amount of research currently exists but also what the implications would be for classroom music and higher education. The absence of literature concerning the influence of culture on instrumental teaching practices indicates that little is known about this subject and further research is required. In evidence, Zhukov (1999) noted almost twenty years ago that generally research into instrumental music teaching is in its infancy and makes a concerted call for more research. It appears this situation has not advanced. Also, Swanwick (1996) suggested some time ago that “all is not well with music education, and its practice does tend to revert to very limited ideas of musical experience and associated teaching models” (p. 22). Swanwick (1999) further suggested that a generic concept of music is needed, one in which culture can be ‘transcended’. Walker (2001), on the other hand, believed that “immersion in both musical and socio-cultural dialectic defines the process of music education and sets the parameters for pedagogy” (p. 17). Whatever the suggestion is for improvement in music education practices, the view for change is still prevalent in the literature (Barton, 2015a; Cain, 2015).
The Aims of This Book
As stated previously, this book aims to examine how culture and society influences music teaching practices. In particular, it explores the extent to which culture is reflected in the modes and methods utilised by teaching and the implication of this knowledge for music learning and teaching generally. It focuses on the how and the why rather than the what of music learning and teaching and seeks to contribute to understanding the unique role that culture and society play in transferring music knowledge. In this sense, the research is principally concerned with the relationship between instrumental music teachers and their societies, and the social nature of the teaching process as well as with how instrumental music teachers attribute, understand, and utilise cultural meaning in their work with learners. These relationships, processes and meanings are often intrinsic and usually unstated but nevertheless contribute significantly to the teaching process and ultimately to learning outcomes.
The main goal of this book is to contribute to greater understanding of the relationship between cultural and social forces and instrumental music teaching practices and the extent and nature of how music and culture, relate, interact and influence one another. With this purpose in mind, this volume seeks to explore important concepts associated with investigating the extent and nature of cultural and social influence reflected in music learning and teaching. These are: teachers’ beliefs and own experiences of learning music; teaching methods and modes of communication (transmission and acquisition); and cultural and social effect in the teaching context. The book will explore these concepts within three distinct music learning and teaching settings: Carnatic music teachers in Chennai, India and in Queensland, Australia; music teachers in Queensland, Australia who largely teach western art and popular music; and music technology and composition in an online environment.
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To this end, the book will concentrate on answering the following inquiry questions:
1. How do music teachers’ experiences of learning music, learning to be a teacher, and teaching reflect the influence of culture and society?
2. How do the teaching methods and modes of communication used by music teachers and learners reflect the influence of culture and society?
3. How does the context in which music learning and teaching take place reflect the influence of culture and society? And
4. What are the implications of this knowledge for classroom music practices?
Structure of the Book
This chapter has introduced the main concepts to be explored further throughout the book: music, culture and society, and learning and teaching. Chapter 2 is primarily concerned with defining further these phenomena but also how these relate and impact on each other. The chapter explores both ethnomusicological and educational perspectives on these concepts in music teaching and learning discourse. As this book shares insights into, and experiences of, the Carnatic music tradition from South India, a significant section of this chapter will discuss music teaching and learning in this context. The chapter concludes with research that has attempted to address the impact that culture has on formal educational practices such as those encountered in instrumental music teaching and learning contexts.
Chapter 3 investigates the various modes of transmission and acquisition utilised in music learning and teaching by providing a definition initially and then discussing how such processes relate to music, culture and society. The following Chap. 4 will subsequently drill down on particular modes and methods of transmission in a range of muso-cultural contexts. These will be shared with an attempt to highlight the critical importance of understanding the relationship between music learning and teaching and the context in which it is taught.
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danger in which Islam was continually placed from the risk of a contested succession followed by renewed bloodshed. The various objections then raised may thus be summarised: ‘We shall consent,’ the spokesmen said, ‘to any one of these three things. First, do as the Prophet did, and leave the election absolutely to the citizens of Medîna. Or, secondly, do as Abu Bekr did, and nominate a successor from amongst the Coreish.[584] Or, thirdly, like Omar, appoint Electors who shall, from amongst the same, choose a candidate to succeed thee. Only, like Abu Bekr and Omar, thou must exclude thine own sons and thy Father’s sons.’ ‘As for the first course,’ replied the Caliph, ‘there is no one now left like unto Abu Bekr, that the people might choose him. As for the rest, verily I fear the contentions and war that would ensue were not the succession fixed aforehand.’ Then, finding all his arguments wasted in the air, he called out the body-guard, and at the point of the sword caused all the city to take the oath.
The example of Syria, Irâc, and the Holy Cities, was followed by the whole empire without reserve. And ever after, the precedent of Muâvia more or less prevailed; that is to say, succession to the Caliphate was based partly on descent, partly on the choice of the reigning Caliph, his nomination being confirmed by an oath of fealty taken first by the inhabitants at the seat of government, and then generally throughout the empire. The last condition, representing the fiction that the elective power was vested in the body of the Faithful, became almost nominal, and the oath of allegiance was consequently enforced by force of arms against recusants. The practice thus was for the Commander of the Faithful to proclaim as his successor the fittest, the noblest born, or the most favoured, of his sons, or (in default of immediate issue) the best qualified amongst his kinsmen. To him, as Heir Apparent, a provisional and anticipatory oath of fealty was taken during his father’s lifetime; and the succession, as a rule, was guided by that choice. Sometimes even two successions were thus anticipated, the reigning prince
Muâvia’s action becomes precedent for future successions; even among Abassides.
making a double nomination; but such attempt to forestall the distant future was calculated to breed, rather than prevent, dissension.[585]
The practice thus begun by the Omeyyads, was followed equally by the Abbassides; and proved a precedent even for later times.
CHAPTER XLIX.
YEZID AND THE TRAGEDY AT KERBALA.
A.H. LXI. A.D. 680.
After a reign of unusual length and prosperity, Muâvia came to die at nearly eighty years of age. As he felt the end approaching, he brought forth a casket with parings in it of the Prophet’s nails. Of these ground fine, he bade them sprinkle the powder in his eyes and mouth when dead; and then bury him, for a winding-sheet, in a garment which Mahomet gave him. Fortune had favoured his rule. For twenty years he was Governor of Syria, and nearly as many more the acknowledged Caliph of all Islam. Since the abdication of Hasan, there had been, for the most part, profound peace throughout the empire. Wise, courageous, and forbearing, he held the dangerous and discordant elements that surrounded him in check;[586] consolidated, and even extended, the already vast area of Islam; and nursed commerce and the arts of peace, so that they greatly flourished in his time.
Death of Muâvia. Rajab, LX. April, 680.
His dying advice to Yezîd.
But he looked to the future with anxiety. The experiment of nominating Yezîd his successor was sure to meet with opposition when he was gone. So from his death-bed he sent a message to Yezîd, who was absent at his huntingquarters, warning him of those against whom he must be on his guard. There were only four, he said, of whom, as former recusants, he need specially beware; Abdallah son of Omar, Hosein son of Aly, Abdallah son of Zobeir, and Abd al Rahmân son of Abu Bekr The first, a pious devotee, would surely succumb. The last might be persuaded by his fellows to set up his claim; but he was too much engrossed with the pleasures of the harem to be the cause of much anxiety.[587] ‘As for Hosein,’ he continued, ‘the factious people of Irâc will not leave him alone till he shall attempt the empire; when thou hast gotten the
victory, then deal gently with him, for verily the Prophet’s blood runneth in his veins. It is the Son of Zobeir that I fear the most for thee. Fierce as the lion, and crafty as the fox;—when within thy grasp, destroy him root and branch, leaving not a vestige behind.’
The first care of Yezîd on ascending the throne was to require the recusants who had objected to his nomination as Heir Apparent, to swear allegiance to him now as Caliph. These resided at Medîna, and on the summons of the governor, two of them, the sons of Omar and Abbâs (the latter, progenitor of the Abbassides), at once complied with the command. But Abdallah son of Zobeir, and Hosein son of Aly, hesitated; and, under cover of delay for considering the matter, both of them escaped to Mecca.
Hosein and the Son of Zobeir escape to Mecca.
Ibn Zobeir dissembles.
Since its capture by Mahomet, fifty years before, no enemy dared to go up against the Holy City; and there, in like security with the doves fluttering around the temple, whom no man might molest, conspirators, abusing the privilege of asylum, were able to hatch their plots against the empire. The ambition of Abdallah ibn Zobeir, as Muâvia foresaw, aimed at the Caliphate; but so long as Hosein remained at Mecca, he dissembled his intentions, and professed to yield to the superior claims of the Prophet’s grandson.
The house of Aly was still, after a fashion, popular at Kûfa. The fond and fickle populace of that factious city now turned their eyes in the direction of Aly’s second son, Hosein. Invitations began to pour in upon him from thence, with promises of support, if he would but appear at Kûfa and claim his regal rights. Within a short space after reaching Mecca, he received one hundred and fifty missives of the kind. His friends pointed faithfully to the slippery ways of the men of Kûfa, and earnestly besought him that he would not trust himself amongst them there. But Ibn Zobeir, longing to be rid of his rival, fostered the ambitious design. The unfortunate prince in an evil hour was thus tempted to accept the call. He sent, however, his cousin Muslim first, to feel the way, and promote
Hosein invited to Kûfa.
Muslim, sent in advance, put to death at Kûfa.
his cause in Kûfa. Yezîd, hearing of the plot, deputed Obeidallah son of Ziâd, his most capable lieutenant, from Bussorah, to take the command at Kûfa. Muslim was discovered, soon after his arrival, lurking in the house of Hâni, a friend to the lineage of Aly. The populace, taking an unexpected turn in his favour, rose upon Obeidallah, and besieging him in his castle, went near to turning the tables against him. The ebullition, however, subsided almost as quickly as it arose. Obeidallah regained the lead, and Muslim, with his protector Hâni, was put to death.[588]
Meanwhile, Hosein, heedless of the remonstrances of Ibn Abbâs and other faithful friends, started from Mecca, with his whole family and household, escorted by a small but devoted band of his adherents. He had already passed the great desert, and was well advanced on the road to Kûfa, when tidings reached him of the fate of Muslim and Hâni. He was staggered by the intelligence. It might well have seemed the height of madness, encumbered as he was with the ladies of his household, to venture himself into a hostile city; and it was yet possible for him to have retraced his steps. But the brothers of Muslim were clamorous with him to avenge his blood; and there was still the hope, a forlorn hope indeed, that the numerous professing friends who had drawn Hosein thither by specious promises, would, when he appeared in person, arise and rally round him, as, before the Battle of the Camel, they had rallied round his brother Hasan. But each messenger and traveller whom they met brought worse and worse reports. Farazdac, the poet, passed by; all the comfort he could give Hosein was—‘The heart of Kûfa is with thee, but its sword against thee.’ The Arab tribes, ever ready for a fray, had been swelling Hosein’s band by the way, till it had become a considerable force; but now perceiving how matters stood, and that the cause was hopeless, they drew off, so that he was left with nothing besides his original small following of some thirty horse and forty foot.[589] An Arab chieftain of the Beni Tay besought him even now to divert his course south-west, towards the hills of Aja and Selma—‘where,’ said he, ‘in ten days time, twenty thousand swords and lances of my tribe
Hosein sets out for Kûfa.
Dzul Hijj, . . LX. Sept. . . 680.
Is met by Horr near Kûfa. 1 Moharram, . . LXI. Oct. . . 680.
will gather round thee.’ Hosein would gladly have followed the advice; ‘but,’ he replied, ‘I am surrounded, as thou seest, by women and children; I cannot turn aside with them into the desert; I must needs go forward.’ They had not proceeded far, when a body of Kûfan horse appeared in sight. They were under the command of Horr, an Arab leader of the Beni Temîm, who courteously, but firmly, refused to let him pass. ‘My orders,’ he said, ‘are to carry thee to Obeidallah, the son of Ziâd; but if thou wilt not go with me, then turn to the right hand, or turn to the left, as thou choosest, saving only the way back again to Mecca or Medîna, for that thou mayest not take.’[590] So the little band turned aside to the left; and, skirting Kûfa on the margin of the desert, marched forward, for a day or two, along the banks of the Western Euphrates. In taking this direction, Hosein had apparently no immediate object beyond avoiding an attack from Kûfa. Horr kept close by him, and courteous communications still passed between them.
But it was dangerous to leave a pretender to the Caliphate thus hovering around such a city as Kûfa, already excited by the affair of Muslim. So Obeidallah sent Amr son of Sád at the head of four thousand horse with a second summons.[591] Thus arrested, Hosein encamped his little band on the plain of Kerbala, close by the western branch of the Euphrates, five-and-twenty miles north-west of Kûfa. At repeated interviews, Hosein disclaimed hostilities; which, indeed, with his slender following, and no prospect of a rising in the city, were out of thought. He would submit, he said, but only on one of these conditions: ‘Suffer me to return to the place from whence I came; if not, then lead me to Yezîd, the Caliph, at Damascus, and place my hand in his that I may speak with him face to face; or, if thou wilt do neither of these things, send me far away to the wars, where I shall fight, the Caliph’s faithful soldier, against the enemies of Islam.’ But Obeidallah insisted upon an unconditional submission; and to effect this without resort to arms, he ordered Amr to cut off all access to the river, hoping that thirst might thus force
Hosein stopped by Amr’s cavalry at Kerbala.
Shamir sent to bring in Hosein, dead or alive. 8 Moharram. Oct. 8.
him to surrender Hosein, who feared worse than death the cruel name of Obeidallah son of Ziâd, stood firm to his conditions; and he even prevailed on Amr himself to press them upon Obeidallah, and beg that he might be sent to the Caliph’s court. It had been well for the Omeyyad dynasty, if the request had been complied with. Instead, Obeidallah, impatient at the delay, jealous of his own prestige, or fearing the fickleness of the Kûfans, sent a creature of his own, an Arab called Shamir[592] (name never uttered by good Moslem but with a shudder and a curse) with orders that Amr should dally with Hosein no longer, but, dead or alive, bring him into Kûfa; and with power to supersede Amr in command should he fail in prompt obedience. Amr thus compelled, or fearing to lose the government of Rei to which he had just been promoted, forthwith surrounded the little camp more closely. Hosein, securing now the position as best he could, declared that he would not surrender, but would fight the battle to the last. The scene which followed is still fresh as yesterday in the mind of every Believer, and is commemorated with wild grief and frenzy as often as the fatal day, the Tenth of the first month of the year, comes round. It has been encircled by tradition with such harrowing recitals as never fail to rouse the horror and indignation of the listener to the highest pitch. The fond and pious Moslem forgets that Hosein, the leader of the band, having broken his allegiance, and yielded himself to a treasonable, though impotent, design upon the throne, was committing an offence that endangered society, and demanded swift suppression. He can see but the cruel and ruthless hand that exterminated, with few exceptions, everyone in whose veins flowed the sacred blood of the Prophet. And, in truth, the simple story needs no adventitious colouring to touch the heart.
Hosein obtained a day’s respite to send away his relatives from the fated camp. But, one and all, they refused to listen to his entreaty that they would leave him. During the night, his sister Zeinab overheard what was going forward, for his servant was furbishing her brother’s sword, and singing the while snatches of
Hosein’s preparations for defence. 9 Moharram. Oct. 9.
martial verse on the impending combat. Hastily drawing her mantle around her, she stole in the dark to her brother’s tent, and flinging herself upon him in wild grief, beat her breast and face, and fell into a swoon. Hosein poured water on her temples; but it was little that he could do to comfort her. The tents were rudely staked together, and some petty barricades of wood and reeds—the burning of which might briefly check the onset—piled around; a poor defence against the overwhelming foe. Aly, Hosein’s little son, lay sick of a fever, but there was no drop of water to slake his parched lips. The women and children passed the night in fear and crying.
On the morning of the fatal tenth of Moharram, Hosein drew out his little band for battle. There was a parley; and again he offered to retire, or be led to the presence of the Caliph. Finding that it was all in vain, he alighted from his camel; and, surrounded by his kinsmen, who stood with firm front for his defence, resolved to sell life dear. At length, one shot an arrow from the Kûfic side, and, amid the wailing of the women and little ones, the unequal fight began. Arrows flew thick, and the forlorn company had its numbers gradually thinned. Hosein’s nephew, Câsim by name, a lad of about ten years of age, betrothed to his daughter Fâtima, was early struck by an arrow, and died in the arms of his uncle. One after another, the grown-up sons of Hosein, his brothers, nephews, and cousins, fell before the shafts of the enemy. Some fled for shelter behind the camp. The reeds were set on fire, and the flames, spreading to the tents, added new horror to the scene. For long, none dared to attack Hosein, and to the last it was hoped that he might yet surrender. Towards the close of the conflict, driven by thirst, he sought to gain the river-bank. The troops closed in behind, and he was cut off from his family. The ‘cursed’ Shamir then led the attack. Struck by an arrow, Hosein fell to the ground, and the Kûfic cavalry rode ruthlessly across the corpse.
Not one of the fighting men of this forlorn band escaped alive. But they fought bravely; and left of their foes, more than
Hosein attacked, and, with all his company, slain. 10 Moharram, . . LXI. Oct. 10, 680.
Trunkless heads cast before the Governor of Kûfa.
their own number dead upon the field. Two sons of Hosein, Aly Akbar[593] and Abdallah, perished early in the day; and, at its close, there were amongst the dead no less than six brothers of Hosein, the sons of Aly; two nephews, sons of his brother Hasan; and six others, descendants of Abu Tâlib, the father of Aly and uncle of Mahomet.[594] The camp was plundered; but no further indignity was offered to the inmates, mostly women and children, who were carried, together with the ghastly load of seventy trunkless heads, to Obeidallah’s palace. A shock of horror, such as never since has ceased to thrill the Moslem world, seized the crowd, when the gory head of the Prophet’s grandson was cast at Obeidallah’s feet. Hard hearts were melted. As the governor turned the head roughly over with his staff (though we must be slow to accept the tales of heartless insult multiplied by Shîya hate), an aged voice from amongst the courtiers was heard to cry: ‘Gently! for it is the Prophet’s grandson. By the Lord! I have seen these very lips kissed by the blessed mouth of Mahomet.’[595]
The sister of Hosein, his two little sons, Aly Asghar[596] and Amr, and two daughters, sole survivors of the family, were treated by Obeidallah with respect; and were sent along with the head of the Pretender to the Caliph at Damascus. Whether sincerely, or to escape the execrations which began already to be heaped upon the actors in the tragedy, Yezîd disowned all responsibility for the death of Hosein, and bitterly reproached Obeidallah for the deed. The ladies and children were honourably received into the Caliph’s household, and sent eventually, with every comfort and consideration, back to their Medîna home. This destination, meant in kindness by Yezîd, turned out badly for the Omeyyad Caliphate. At Medîna, there ensued a wild scene of grief and lamentation. Everything tended there to intensify the sense of the catastrophe. The deserted dwellings inhabited heretofore by the family and kinsmen of the Prophet, the widowed ladies, the orphaned little ones, all added pathos to the cruel tale. That tale, eagerly heard by groups of weeping listeners at
The ladies and children sent to Medîna.
Reaction in favour of Aly’s descendants.
the lips of the women and children who alone survived to tell it—and coloured, as oft repeated by them, with fresh and growing horrors— was spread by the pilgrims flocking yearly to Medîna, over the whole empire. The tragic story was taken up in every household. It soon was seen that the Governor of Kûfa, in his zeal to suppress the imperial claim of the house of Aly, had overshot the mark. The claim of this line, heretofore unknown, or treated with indifference, struck deep now into the hearts of multitudes; and a cloud of indignation and wrath began to gather, which ere long burst upon the dynasty accused of perpetrating the sacrilegious massacre. The tragedy of Kerbala decided not only the fate of the Caliphate, but of Mahometan kingdoms long after the Caliphate had waned and disappeared. None who has witnessed the wild and passionate grief with which, as the anniversary each year comes round, Moslems of every land beat their breasts, in vast crowds, the livelong night, vociferating unweariedly the frantic cry, Hasan, Hosein! Hasan, Hosein! in wailing cadence, can fail to recognise the fatal weapon, sharp and double-edged, which the Omeyyad dynasty allowed thus to fall into the hands of the house of Aly and the house of Abbâs.[597]
The ‘Moharram’.
CHAPTER L.
THE OMEYYAD AND ABBASSIDE DYNASTIES, AND CONCLUSION.
It remains but very briefly to follow the fortunes of the Omeyyad dynasty; to show how it came to be supplanted by the Abbasside; to trace the history of the more potent tribal and spiritual influences, which sprang up with the Faith; and to explain how some of these, having served their time, have disappeared; while others still survive, as powerful agencies in the rise and fall of nations, and the destinies of Islam.
Omeyyad and Abbasside dynasties.
Yezîd. 60–64.
Yezîd soon felt the injury accruing to the Caliphate from the revulsion of feeling, in favour of the family of Aly and against the throne, which followed upon the tragedy of Kerbala. Kûfa, with its proverbial inconstancy, was ever ready to espouse the cause of a house the progenitors of which—Aly and his sons—it had cast aside, and as readily again to let drop that cause. Bussorah, on the other hand, was more inclined to the Khârejite heresy. But it was from a very different quarter that the gravest peril first assailed Yezîd and his successors. The danger, as Muâvia had foreshadowed, arose from Abdallah ibn Zobeir. It was he who, to be rid of Hosein, had encouraged that unfortunate prince in his desperate venture. No sooner was the catastrophe of Kerbala announced at Mecca, than Abdallah ibn Zobeir set up a claim in his own person. At first he assumed the pious and modest title, ‘Protector of the Holy House.’ But he soon went beyond this, and proclaimed himself a rival of the Caliph. Though closely connected with the Prophet’s family, it was not to noble birth he trusted. He was a military adventurer, as his father and Talha had been before him, trying conclusions, but more successfully at the first, against the ruling power. Yezîd swore that his adversary should be brought a prisoner,
Ibn Zobeir affects the Caliphate. 61.
Medîna rebels, and is sacked. 63. 683.
chained by the neck, to Damascus. Shortly after, regretting the oath and yet wishing to fulfil it in the letter, he sent the rebel a silver chain to be thrown as an ornament about his neck, if he would present himself at court. But Ibn Zobeir, scorning the offer, committed the messengers to prison, and soon roused all Arabia against the Caliph. The Governor of Medîna sent a deputation of its chief men to Damascus, hoping that they might be won over by the gifts and kindness of Yezîd. They returned munificently rewarded, but with such an account of the dissipation and disregard of the obligations of Islam prevailing at the court, that the leaders of Medîna were scandalised and forswore allegiance to the godless Caliph. Thereupon an army was sent to chastise the rebellious city. A battle was fought in its neighbourhood, and the vanquished inhabitants were subjected for three days to the licence and rapine of the Syrian troops. But in the end the cause of Ibn Zobeir gained ground both in Arabia and the East. Aided by his brother Musáb, and other able generals, he gained hold at one time of a great portion of the empire. It is not, indeed, impossible that he might have defeated the Omeyyads altogether, if he had consented to make common cause with the Khârejite theocrats. But this he could not do; because these demanded, as a first condition, that the memory of Othmân should be denounced as that of a tyrant justly put to death; whereas, in company with his father, the son of Zobeir had waged war with Aly for the avowed purpose of avenging the blood of Othmân. His arms were, therefore, turned against these heretics; and in everywhere defeating them, he effectually served the cause of the Caliphs of Damascus. For many years he maintained a rival court at Mecca; and his rule is memorable for the rebuilding of the Holy House.[598]
Meanwhile another rebel against the Omeyyads had appeared at Kûfa in the person of Mukhtâr, son of Abu Obeid.[599] This adventurer first dallied with the Khârejites. Afterwards, changing front, he professed himself the agent of the house of Aly, and the lieutenant of Aly’s grandson then living at Medîna. As such for a time Mukhtâr ruled at Kûfa, and took summary vengeance on all who had
Rebellion of Mukhtâr 65–67.
been concerned in the massacre at Kerbala. Shamir and Amr were both executed, and their heads sent to his pretended master. Over Obeidallah, Mukhtâr gained a great victory on the Zab; and the trunkless head of that unfortunate governor, who fell in the battle, was carried to the palace at Kûfa, and cast upon the same spot where just six years before he had gloated over the bloody head of Hosein. Thus early was the tragedy of Kerbala avenged in the death of its chief actors. But the success of Mukhtâr was not long-lived. He was attacked by the generals of Ibn Zobeir, defeated and slain.
By these successful campaigns against the Khârejites and against Mukhtâr, both enemies of the empire, Ibn Zobeir was, in effect, clearing the way for the Court of Damascus to strike a final blow against himself. His brother Musáb was defeated and killed. The famous Hajjâj, at this period the right arm of the Omeyyad Caliphs, was now able to concentrate his forces against the Pretender, who still held his court at Mecca, and with an overpowering army to invest the sacred city. Finding that his game was nearly played out, Ibn Zobeir lost heart, and had thoughts of surrendering. But his aged mother
Sequel of Ibn Zobeir, and rebuilding the Káaba. 63.
Musáb killed. . . 71.
Hajjâj besieges Mecca. Ibn Zobeir slain. . . 73.
Asma, daughter of Abu Bekr, with the ancient spirit of the Arab matron, exhorted her son to die as a hero should. And so, putting on his armour, he rushed into the unequal combat, and fell. His mother, now a centenarian, is the same who, at the Hegira, seventy-three years before, tore off her girdle to bind the Prophet’s wallet to his camel as he took his flight from the cave of Mount Thaur, and thus earned the name of ‘the Woman of the shreds.’[600] It is almost the last personal link we have connecting the Prophet’s life with the Omeyyad Caliphate. What a world of events had transpired within the lifetime of this lady!
On the death of Ibn Zobeir, who had thus bravely held his ground as the rival of several successive Caliphs for thirteen years, the Omeyyad rule was anew recognised, without dispute, over
Omeyyad dynasty again supreme. 73.
the whole Moslem realm, and the name of the reigning Caliph was recited in the public prayers of every Mosque from the East to the farthest West.
During the troublous times of which mention has been made, several successions had taken place in the Caliphate. After a short and anxious reign, Yezîd died, leaving the kingdom to a weak son, who survived but a few months. Amidst the disturbances which followed, Merwân made his way to the throne, and, dying in the following year, left the empire to his son Abd al Malik. This prince wielded the sceptre for one-and-twenty years. The greater part of his reign was a struggle with foes such as Ibn Zobeir, Mukhtâr, and other leaders of the Alyite faction, besides the chronic outbursts of Khârejite fanaticism. At one time the Caliph was so beset by these opponents, that for three years he submitted to the humiliation of paying tribute to the Byzantine Court. In the end he triumphed over all his enemies, and transmitted a magnificent and still expanding kingdom to his son Welîd.[601] Notwithstanding the storms that so long surrounded his throne, Abd al Malik cultivated letters, and was mild and beneficent in his sway. During the reign of his son, which lasted ten years, the glory culminated of the Omeyyad race. Elements of disorder still remained, but under the wise and firm sceptre of Welîd they were held in check. The arts of peace prevailed; schools were founded, learning cultivated, and poets royally rewarded; public works of every useful kind were promoted, and even hospitals established for the aged, lame, and blind. Such, indeed, at this era, was the glory of the Court of Damascus, that Weil, of all the Caliphs both before and after, gives the precedence to Welîd. It is the fashion for the Arabian historians to abuse the Omeyyads as a dissolute, intemperate, and godless race; but we must not forget that these all wrote more or less under Abbasside inspiration. And Welîd especially suffers at their hands; for it was under him that Hajjâj[602]
Death of Yezîd. 64.
Merwân, 65.
Abd al Malik. 65–86.
Welîd . . 86–96.
made the assault upon the Holy City—a ‘sacrilege’ which still rankles in the Believer’s soul; and, moreover, during whose twenty years’ splendid vice-royalty in the East, Kûfa and Bussorah were both bathed in blood; and hence some part of the hatred against the tyrant has come to be reflected upon the name of his Master also. It is too true, indeed, that at Damascus, as in other great cities of the empire, there was now rapidly supervening a shameless laxity of manners; but neither in the Caliphs themselves, nor in their surroundings, did the looseness of morality at the Syrian Court surpass that which, under the Abbassides, not long after prevailed within the royal precincts of Baghdad.[603]
After Welîd, the Omeyyad dynasty lasted six-and-thirty years. But it began to rest on a precarious basis. For now the agents of the house of Hâshim, descendants of the Prophet and of his uncle Abbâs, commenced to ply secretly, but with vigour and persistency, their task of canvass and intrigue in distant cities, and especially in the provinces of the East.
Canvass in favour of house of Abbâs. Omeyyad Caliphs. 96–132.
The Shîya faction canvass for Alyite pretenders.
For a long time, the endeavour of these agitators was directed to the advocacy of the Shîya right; that is to say, it was based upon the Divine claim of Aly, and his descendants in the Prophet’s line, to the Imâmate or leadership over the empire of Islam.[604] Risings everywhere from time to time took place in favour of some one or other in whose veins flowed the blood of Aly. Everywhere the attempts were suppressed, the pretenders slain or cast into prison, and their armies defeated in the field. But a new and more fatal danger soon arose. The discomfiture of the Shîyas paved the way for the designing advocates of the other Hâshimite branch, namely, that of the house of Abbâs, the uncle of the Prophet. These had all along been plotting in the background, and watching their opportunity. They now vaunted the claims of this line, and were barefaced enough to urge that, being descended from the uncle of Mahomet through male representatives, they took precedence over the direct descendants of the Prophet himself, because these came
Abul Abbâs supported by Abu Muslim in Persia. 130.
through Fâtima in the female line. About the year 130 of the Hegira, Abul Abbâs, of Abbasside descent, was put forward in Persia, as the candidate of this party, and his claim was supported by the famous general Abu Muslim. Successful in the East, Abu Muslim turned his arms to the West. A great battle, one of those which decide the fate of empires, was fought on the banks of the Zab; and, through the defection of certain Khârejite and Yemen levies, was lost by the Omeyyad army Merwân II., the last of his dynasty, was driven to Egypt, and there killed in the church of Bussir, whither he had fled for refuge. At the close of the year 132,[605] the black flag, emblem of the Abbassides, floated over the battlements of Damascus. The Omeyyad dynasty, after ruling the vast Moslem empire for a century, now disappeared in cruelty and bloodshed. Alyite, Omeyyad, and Khârejite, were equally the victims of the exterminating sword of the first Abbasside Caliph, who thereby earned for himself the unenviable name of Al Saffâh, ‘The Bloody.’[606]
Battle of the Zab. 132. 750.
Abul Abbâs succeeds to the Caliphate.
Omeyyad dynasty in Spain. 138. 756.
So perished the royal house of the Omeyyads. But one escaped. He fled to Spain, which had never favoured the overweening pretensions of the Prophet’s family, whether in the line of Aly or Abbâs. Accepted by the Arab tribes, whose influence in the West was paramount, Abd al Rahmân now laid the foundation of a new Dynasty, and perpetuated the Omeyyad name at the magnificent court of Cordova. Some years previously, the flood of Moslem victory sweeping northwards had been stemmed and rolled back by Charles Martel at Tours; but a grand career yet remained within the peninsula of Spain to illustrate this remnant of the Omeyyad race.
Thus with the rise of the Abbassides, the unity of the Caliphate came to an end. Never after, either in theory or in fact, was
Moslem defeat at Tours. . . 732.
Other Moslem kingdoms.
The Caliphate in its original significance comes to an end.
there a successor to the Prophet, acknowledged as such over all Islam. Other provinces followed in the wake of Spain. The Aghlabite dynasty in the east of Africa and west of it, the Edrisites in Fez, both of Alyite descent; Egypt and Sicily under independent rulers; the Tâhirite kings in Persia, their native soil; these and others, breaking away from the central government, established kingdoms of their own. The name of Caliph, however it might survive in the Abbasside lineage, or be assumed by less legitimate pretenders, had now altogether lost its virtue and significance.
Yet a splendid empire remained for the Abbassides. They carried their court from Damascus, where the memory of the late dynasty inconveniently survived its fall, to the banks of the Euphrates. There, Kûfa, too prone to be inflamed by Alyite intrigue against the new line of Caliphs, was finally abandoned as the seat of royalty. Another capital was founded by Abu Jáfar, the second of the Abbassides, at Baghdad, fifteen miles above Medâin, on the western bank of the Tigris. For many years, Alyites, Omeyyads, and Khârejites continued to be punished with equal rigour by the new dynasty, and much insecurity and bloodshed prevailed. But misrule and rebellion in the end gave place to rest and peace, and a century followed of unparalleled grandeur and prosperity. Baghdad, answering to its proud name of Dâr al Salâm, ‘The City of Peace,’ became for a time the capital of the world, the centre of luxury, the emporium of commerce, and the seat of learning.
Splendour of Baghdad, the City of Peace.
The Abbassides transfer seat of government to Baghdad. . . 145. Al Mâmûn. 198–218.
At the close of the second century of the Hegira, Al Mâmûn succeeded to the throne. His mother was a Persian lady; and he had imbibed from her, and the society in which he was reared at Merve, the principles of the Motázilites. This strange system, which had recently sprung up in the East, was grafted by the
Motázilite creed.
sectarians of Aly (Shîyites) on the transcendental philosophy of the Persians. It was, in fact, a new and altogether unlooked-for development, or rather perversion, of Islam. Heretofore, the sole ground of faith had been the Corân, and the Sunnat or deliverances preserved by tradition from the lips of Mahomet. Now, under the Divine Imâmate, or spiritual leadership vested in some member of the house of Aly, there might be other infallible sources of guidance from above. There arose, in fact, a new school of interpretation, one might almost say, a new dispensation. The Corân was treated allegorically; and such difficulties as beset the Orthodox, offended reason, or cramped the growth of society, were thus easily evaded. [607] In the system so evolved, the Prophet, had he revisited the earth, would hardly have recognised his own religion. This elastic development of the Faith, sublimated by the mysticism of Persia, and refined by the subtleties of Indian philosophy, was eagerly embraced by the natives of the Eastern provinces. And Al Mâmûn, who on his accession remained still for a time at Merve, fell deeply under its influence. So inclined was he to the house of Aly, that he gave a daughter of his own in marriage to one of that lineage, and he even adopted their green ensign;—hoping thus to unite the lines of Aly and Abbâs in one new dynasty. Although, on transferring his court to Baghdad, he abandoned the design,[608] Mâmûn still remained faithful to the rationalistic creed. He surrounded himself at the capital with the learned of all persuasions; and in company with them was used to hold discussions, at which such grave questions as those affecting man’s relations with the Deity, and the nature of the Godhead itself, were freely handled. In opposition to the Orthodox, he believed in the doctrine of Free-will. From the received teaching that the Corân is uncreated and eternal, he recoiled, as at variance with the unity of the Godhead; and, in the end, he proclaimed, with pains and penalties for dissent, that it was created. Thus, though a Free-thinker himself, Al Mâmûn, as often happens, denied the free right of judgment to others; and he persecuted cruelly, and on one or two occasions even to the death, those who ventured to differ with him. Still freedom of opinion and open discussion were, beyond comparison, more tolerated under the
Embraced by Al Mâmûn.
