This article analyses the contribution of Ḥājj Mīrzā ‘Abbās Iravānī Āqāsī (1197–1265/1783–1849) (hereafter Āqāsī) to the political theology literature of the Qajar period. It also addresses the dynamics and tensions between Sufism and power in Iranian Shi‘i society. To this end, the article is structured in three parts: First, a review of the historical context since the Safavids and the development of a political theology genre during the first half of the nineteenth century. Second, the unprecedented prominence of Sufism during the reign of Muḥammad Shāh (r. 1250–1264/1834–1848), with Āqāsī serving as the head of the royal administration from 1835 until the king’s death. Third, a more specific analysis of Āqāsī’s political thought, as expressed in two treatises: the Chahār-i faṣl-i sulṭānī va shīam-i farūkhī (The Four Royal Discourses and the Nobles’ Principles of Conduct), written in 1246/1830, four years before the end of Fatḥ ‘Alī Shāh’s reign (r. 1211–1250/1797–1834), and, to a much lesser extent, Mishkāt-i muḥammadiyyah (The Muhammadan Flame), written during the second half of Muḥammad Shāh’s rule, which focuses primarily—though not exclusively—on the reform of the army.
The Safavid legacy: its enduring impact on authority and political culture in Qajar Iran
The advent of the Safavid Dynasty (906–1134/1501–1722) had significant implications for the interaction and tension between politics and Sufism in Iran. The Safavids originated as a Sunni Sufi order, which became Shi‘i during the fifteenth century.Footnote 1 The charismatic power of their shaykh—a religious leader embodying both mystical authority and hereditary noble lineage as sayyid—enabled them to rule over part of the northern province of Azerbaijan, centred around their fiefdom in Ardabil, where the tomb of the order’s eponym, Shaykh Ṣafī al-Dīn Ardabīlī (d. 735/1334), is located. At that time, other mystical orders and movements also held the power to govern significant regions of the Iranian plateau, ruling over many Shi‘is or, at the very least, ‘Alids. For instance, the Mar‘ashī, the Musha‘sha‘iyyah, and the Sarbadār had already established Shi‘i or Alid-led rule in various parts of Iran before the rise of the Safavids in the early sixteenth century.Footnote 2
The advent of the Safavids marked a major politico-religious upheaval, sometimes described as a revolution, in the history of premodern and modern Iran, as well as in the history of Islam and the doctrines of Shi‘ism and Sufism. One of the paradoxes of this new politico-religious order was that, despite the dynasty’s origins, its rulers remained ‘perfect masters’ (murshid-i kāmil) of the order, while imposing Shi‘ism as the ‘saved sect’ (al-firqat al-nājiyyah)Footnote 3 and the state religion. The Safavids also pursued repressive policies towards Sufism, including against their own followers.Footnote 4 Three duodecimal Shi‘i Sufi orders emerged under the Safavids, which were, de facto, also born from the Shi‘itisation of pre-existing Sunni orders. Nevertheless, these orders faced significant difficulties in surviving on the Iranian Plateau. Thus, the masters of the Ni‘matullāhiyyah—certainly the most important of these three orders, to which Āqāsī belonged—were forced into exile in the Deccan Plateau, which was then ruled by dynasties of Shi‘i allegiance, including the Bahmanid Dynasty (r. 748–934/1347–1527) and its successor states, most notably the Quṭb Shāhī (r. 924–1098/1518–1687) and the ʿĀdil Shāhī (r. 895–1097/1490–1686).Footnote 5 These rulers, particularly Aḥmad Shāh Bahmanī (r. 825–838/1422–1435), actively patronised Shi‘i scholars and mystics, including Ni‘matullāhī Sufi masters. Aḥmad Shāh invited Shāh Ni‘matullāh Valī (d. 834/1431), and after the latter declined due to his advanced age, his son and successor, Shāh Khalīlullāh (d. 870/1465), eventually migrated to the Deccan Plateau—settling at Bidar under Bahmanid patronage—where the Ni‘matullāhī order took firm root.Footnote 6 The other two Sufi–Shi‘i orders were the Dhahabiyyah and the Khāksāriyyah, though they were quite distinct from the Ni‘matullāhiyyah.Footnote 7 The Dhahabiyyah was particularly prominent in Fars during the Qajar period, while the Khāksāriyyah, which appears to be a legacy of the Malāmatiyyah, renouncing Sufism in medieval times, was especially influential in Khorasan. Overall, the Safavid period was marked by a latent conflict among religious figures over the question of Sufism in all its forms.Footnote 8
The new Safavid realm (state and polity) deeply influenced the development of doctrines on political and religious authority within the Shi‘i context. The rulers were regarded as sayyid, holding the status of murshid-i kāmil (perfect masters), and were seen as potential awaited messiahs.Footnote 9 As a result, the ulema of the Qajar period likely felt liberated from the politico-religious constraints of the Safavid era. This led to the production of a political literature that revived the mythical image of the Sassanid regime (224–651), believed to have established a perfect diarchical authority, embodied by both the ruler and the ulema, more in line with the demands of the Occultation within a Shi‘i context. Nevertheless, Āqāsī and other Sufi authorities were less concerned with emphasising the permanence and necessity of this diarchical authority than the Uṣūlī clergy. While Āqāsī adhered to a well-established tradition of interaction between Sufism and political thought in Islamic history, notably exemplified by figures like Dāwūd Qayṣarī (d. 751/1350), it is important to note that he held an absolutely crucial and decisive political authority in the conduct of affairs in Iran.
This interaction between Sufism and politics under the Safavids is notably explored in a little-known political theology treatise written in the mid eighteenth century by the Dhahabī master Quṭb al-Dīn Muḥammad Nayrīzī Shīrāzī (d. 1172–1173/1759). In his treatise entitled Risālah-yi siyāsī dar taḥlīl-i ‘ilal-i suqūṭ-i dawlat-i ṣafaviyyah va rāh-i ḥāl bāzgasht-i ān beh qudrat (Political Treatise on the Causes of the Fall of the Safavid State and the Path to Its Restoration), Nayrīzī Shīrāzī argues that Iran had been experiencing a period of misery and humiliation since the fall of the Safavids, attributing the dynasty’s collapse to the latent conflict between the jurists (fuqahā) and the Sufis and ‘Gnostics’ (alternatively referred to as ‘urafā or ahl-i ‘irfān).Footnote 10 These jurists and ‘men of logic and philosophy’ (ahl-i manṭiq va falsafah) committed the grave sin of cursing the mystics, despite the Safavid Dynasty’s affiliation with Sufism and the support it had received from the ‘Gnostics’. In order to restore its honour and power, Iran thus needed to reinstate Sufism as its core, which would pave the way for the re-establishment of the Safavid Dynasty—or, perhaps, as one could interpret it, for the emergence of a new, powerful political rule. Nayrīzī Shīrāzī describes these disgraced jurists as individuals who merely create the illusion of being men of knowledge.Footnote 11 He further asserts that the primordial role regained by the ‘Atabāt as the main centres of learning for Shi‘ism, after the fall of the Safavids, highlights the weak devotion of these clerics to Iran—unlike the Sufis, who remained in the country and continued to defend it.
Iran witnessed a revival of Shi‘i Sufism and its orders in the second half of the eighteenth century, after the fall of the Safavids, particularly due to the settlement of some Ni‘matullāhī Sufi masters in Iran and the ‘Atabāt.Footnote 12 This renewed popularity of Sufism faced fierce opposition from the Shi‘i ulema, leading to targeted assassination campaigns. Notably, Sayyid Muḥammad ‘Alī Bihbihānī (d. 1216/1801), nicknamed ṣūfī-kush (the Sufi killer), led one of these campaigns and authored a major anti-Sufi treatise.Footnote 13 These campaigns specifically targeted members of the Ni‘matullāhiyyah, to which Āqāsī belonged. Among the most famous shaykhs murdered during this period were Ma‘ṣūm ‘Alī Shāh (d. 1212/1797), Nūr ‘Alī Shāh (d. 1216/1801), Mushtāq ‘Alī Shāh (d. 1206/1792), and Muẓaffar ‘Alī Shāh (d. 1215/1800–1801). During this time, the Ni‘matullāhiyyah order likely became the Sufi order with the largest number of disciples.Footnote 14
The influence of Sufism, and more generally of Muslim mysticism, appears to be central in the political theology literature produced during the Qajar period, particularly between 1820 and 1850, which corresponds to Āqāsī’s lifetime. This dominance is especially evident in the frequent use of Sufi terminology and concepts throughout this corpus. Among the various themes drawn from the Sufi lexicon is the rhetoric surrounding on the mystical aura of the mujtahid—an religious scholar authorised to perform independent legal reasoning (ijtihad)—particularly during a period of accelerated hierarchical structuring within the clergy concerning the command of ijtihād. One such expression, ṣāḥib-i ṭarīqah (leader of the spiritual path), used by Sayyid Ja‘far Kashfī (d. 1267/1851), designates the principal mujtahid of a given period. In the final decades of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the highest rank of the mujtahid was often referred to as riyāsat-i dīnī (religious leadership). Interestingly, Kashfī was renowned as both a significant and original mystic and religious authority of the Qajar period, while simultaneously being anti-Sufi. This apparent contradiction reflects a deeper division in Iran between Sufism (taṣavvuf) and mystical philosophy (‘irfān). While taṣavvuf was often associated with spiritual orders and communal practices, ‘irfān was integrated into Shi‘i intellectual traditions, sometimes directly opposing Sufi structures. Kashfī’s position exemplifies this tension: he embraced mystical philosophy while firmly rejecting the Sufi framework, distancing himself from its doctrines and social organisation. He even called for the malediction of the ‘followers of Sufism’ (mutaṣavvifah), whom he branded as apostates (mulḥidīn).Footnote 15 Another contributor to these political theology treatises, Naṣr Allāh Damāvandī, used the expressions quṭb al-aqṭāb (the pole of poles) and quṭb al-‘ārifīn (the pole of mystics) to refer to Imām ‘Alī (d. 40/661).Footnote 16 In his treatise, Damāvandī emphasises the necessity of spiritual discipline (riyāḍat) and education to attain the Muhammadan light (nūr-i muḥammadī).Footnote 17 He invited each individual to ‘deepen’ his moral virtue (akhlāq) ‘so that it may resemble that of God’, framing the entire process with the mystical expression vuṣūl-i haqīqī (true connection).Footnote 18
Moreover, this corpus of texts contains a particularly strong criticism of Sufism, especially of asceticism, even when the authors themselves are Sufis. Ascetic Sufism is specifically accused of fostering indifference to the common good, thereby hindering the progress of the nation.
The Andarznāmeh tradition: literary form and its reception
Āqāsī’s treatises belong to a political literary genre commonly referred to as andarznāmeh (Book of Advices), which evolved during the Qajar period. In addition to this classification, the authors of these treatises often describe them using terms such as siyāsat-i mudun (Statecraft of Cities) or tadbīr-i manzil (Governance of the House), particularly for a first chapter, which would be followed by a second one named tadbīr-i mamlikat (Governance of the Kingdom). The stylistic canons of this literary genre are partly in continuity with the tradition of the ‘mirrors of princes’ in medieval Islam, particularly because they are most often written and offered to a king or a governor, and sometimes even commissioned by them. In this genre, which is also closely related to literature on morals (akhlāq), the authors often develop a reflection on the ordering of the world, or the kosmos. The kingship and rank of rulers (ṭa’ifah-yi sulṭān) are understood within the framework of divine creation, which designates a unique function and rank to each category of individuals. The texts emphasise their interdependencies and underscore that the authority of the ruler is but one commandment among others.Footnote 19 The repetitive style of idealised stories of the monarchs of pre-Islamic Iran and the Abbasid period lends this literature a strong didactic character, drawing on a vivid, universally resonant imagination. This corpus also addresses the authority and hierarchy of the ulema, a theme central to Āqāsī’s treatises, explored in this article.
We can distinguish two periods in the production of this political literature. The first, during the reigns of Fatḥ ‘Alī Shāh, Muḥammad Shāh, and roughly the first five years of Naṣīr al-Dīn Shāh (r. 1264–1324/1848–1896), saw the composition of the most renowned treatises. These include works by Mīrzā Qummī (1151–1231/1738–1815/16), Mullā Aḥmad Naraqī (1185–1245/1771–1829), Kashfī, Naṣr Allāh Damāvandī, and Mīrzā Mūsā Sāvajī (circa 1240–1303/1824–1886).Footnote 20 The second period, covering most of Nāṣir al-Dīn Shāh’s long reign and that of his successor Muẓaffar al-Dīn Shāh (r. 1313–1324/1896–1907), is characterised by a gradual rationalisation, adaptation, and response to the political literature of a new category of reformists and critical intellectuals, some of whom emerged from the state apparatus.
One of the distinct features of this corpus is that its discourse is consistently supported by scriptural sources. The Qur’ān and the ḥadīth are constantly quoted, while the Nahj al-balāghah, attributed to Imām ‘Alī, appears less frequently, though it was more prominently used during the Safavid era. While such extensive reliance on scriptural sources is typical in the writings of the ulema, it becomes significantly less apparent in the political literature they produced during and after the constitutional revolution of 1906–1911. More fundamentally, this political literature is also—if not primarily—a discourse on the created world (kosmos) and the knowledge of God. As a result, some treatises—or sections of treatises—take on an eminently initiatory character, to the point of relegating discussions on politics and governance to the background.Footnote 21 The dual function of this literature is explicitly acknowledged by its authors. In the introduction to his Tuḥfat al-Nāṣiriyyah, Naṣr Allāh Damāvandī states that his treatise serves two distinct purposes: first, to address political matters in the wake of Nāṣir al-Dīn Shāh’s coronation, which had taken place just two weeks earlier; and second, to synthesise the question of the metaphysics of being (vujūd) at the request of a relative.Footnote 22
Regardless of whether the ruler is just (‘ādil) or unjust (ẓālim), the duty of absolute obedience (iṭā‘at-i muṭlaq) for the subjects remains a central tenet in this literature, with the ulema even referring to the ruler as the ‘absolute king’ (malik-i muṭlaq).Footnote 23 The classical theory asserting the necessary coexistence of two forms of authority—on the one hand, political rule (salṭanat), embodied by the ruler (sulṭān) and symbolised by the sword (sayf), and on the other, knowledge (‘ilm), represented by the ulema and exemplified by the pen (qalam)—was still firmly upheld at that time. To illustrate this symmetry, the ulema often quoted poetry, including this verse by Rūmī (d. 672/1273): ‘The rulers (pādishāh) represent the manifestation (maẓhār) of God’s sovereignty (salṭanat), and the ulema reflect His knowledge.’Footnote 24 This principle appears even more entrenched in the Qajar period, as the ulema freed themselves from the major constraints that clerics of the Safavid era had faced. As previously mentioned, they no longer had to conceive of their monarchs as murshid-i kāmil, intrinsically linked to the Imām of their time, nor as sayyid and direct descendants of the Imāms. This growing independence was further reinforced by the fact that the Qajar Dynasty and its bureaucracy did not establish a religious administration comparable to the ṣadr institution that prevailed during the Safavid era, notably embodied by the position of the shaykh al-islām in its later period.
While some ulema maintained that the ideal government during the Occultation would be one in which the pillars of knowledge (‘ilm) and the sword (sayf) were united in a single ruler closely connected to the ‘Universal Intellect’ (‘aql-i kull)—conceived, in the Neoplatonic cosmology inherited by thinkers such as Nāṣir al-Dīn al-Ṭūsī (d. 672/1274) and Mullā Ṣadrā (d. 1040/1650), as forming a pair with the ‘Universal Soul’ (nafs-i kull)—they also acknowledged that, in practice, a diarchical form of power had asserted itself in their time.Footnote 25 This last point likely served as a strong reminder to rulers of the need to rely on the ulema class, lest they risk being labelled as tyrannical (jā’ir) and illegitimate (ghāṣib). Historiography on the social role of the ulema in the Qajar period has rightly emphasised that the new political economy, following the vindication of the Usūlī school and the resulting financial independence of the clerical class, meant that they were no longer dependent on state patronage.
Moreover, the ulema regard the ruler’s reign as a fundamental condition for the application of sharī‘ah—the divine law governing both individual conduct and public order—primarily due to the security (amniyat) and the peacefulness (āsāyish) provided by the political authority. The shāh can thus be described as the ‘embodiment of security’ (maẓhar-i amniyat), as his reign provides the stability necessary for the application of sharī‘ah.Footnote 26 In a passage devoted to the etymology of the term pādishāh, Naṣr Allāh Damāvāndī states that it is a combination of the words for God (pād) and king (shāh), asserting that the just ruler (sulṭān-i ‘ādil) is revealed as the guardian of orders and affairs.Footnote 27 The just monarch, in whom the divine attributes are manifested, is also portrayed as a perfect man (insān-i kāmil), akin to the prophets. Obedience to him, therefore, promises fulfilment by God for ordinary people.Footnote 28 Consequently, the pādishāh is regarded as the deputy (khalīfah) of God, a blessing (ni‘mat), and the manifestation or microcosm (‘ālam-i ṣaghīr) of the ‘balance of justice’ (mīzān-i ‘adl). As an extension of the pre-Islamic concept of ‘divine effulgence’ (farr-i īzadī), a radiant light emanating from the Creator and instilled in the ruler, granting him legitimacy in the exercise of power and aiding him in his struggle against the forces of evil—the pādishāh is most often referred to as the ẓill Allāh (shadow of God). This last title, with its firmly Islamic character, is omnipresent in the literature we are discussing here. Monarchs of the highest degrees are also referred to as sāḥib-i nāmūs (upholder of the law) and sāḥib-i iqtidār (repository of power) due to their ability to guarantee and protect the rights of subjects and Muslims by enforcing ‘decrees’ (aḥkām), understood here as ‘religious decrees’ (aḥkām-i dīnī). The highest rulers are also attributed the roles of ‘administrator of the world’ (mudabbir-i ‘ālam) and ‘civic man’ (insān-i madanī).Footnote 29 The centrality of rulers in the world order is so crucial that the creation of subjects seems designed to serve as a means to test these powerful individuals, allowing their power and authority to be more effectively judged.Footnote 30 The balance of the world is thus founded on the harmony between the ruler and his subjects. Consequently, each individual must work to ensure this cohesion, or else chaos will arise and religion will vanish. Niẓām al-‘Ulamā-yi Tabrīzī thus asserts:
If the spirit [the ruler] is not at peace and in a state of tranquillity, and thus not loved, the body [society] will bear the consequences. If one organ is removed from the body, the entire body will become ill. Therefore, it is essential to work towards ensuring that the relationship between the people and the state (millat va dawlat) is one of harmony. Without this, the promise of security and prosperity will remain unfulfilled.Footnote 31
Little information is available regarding the circumstances under which these treatises were written or their reception at the time. Some authors mention financial motivations, although it remains unclear to what extent ‘princes’ were generous in rewarding the authors of these works. As a result, studying this corpus also refines and nuances the sociology of the ulema class during the Qajar period, which is typically seen as highly autonomous from the state. While it is difficult to assess who had access to these treatises beyond rulers and certain individuals within the administration, it seems that their reception was limited, and these themes were largely absent from the curriculum offered by the ulema to their students (ṭullāb) in theological seminaries (ḥawzah). Furthermore, it appears that this literary genre, adopted by the ulema, constituted the first form of political literature in the modern period. It also highlights the central role of the ulema in the emergence of modern political ideas and their influence on the social fabric during the Qajar period.
Āqāsī’s life and Sufism in his time
Āqāsī was the son of a modest mullā and landowner from the Yerevan region in the Southern Caucasus. From a very young age, he followed his father to the ‘Atabāt, where he studied under the renowned faqīh and influential Sufi master ‘Abd al-Ṣamad Hamadānī (d. 1216/1802), author of Baḥr al-ma‘ārif (The Ocean of Gnostic Knowledge).Footnote 32 The intensity of their relationship was such that when the latter was killed during the Wahhabi attacks on Karbala, Āqāsī took it upon himself to settle Hamadānī’s family in Hamadan and provide for their needs. Āqāsī begins his first treatise by declaring that he owes all his knowledge to a great mystic he encountered in the Ḥaramayn (the two holiest cities of Islam), possibly Hamadānī. Hamadānī helped bridge the divine between mystical masters and the clerical establishment, paving the way for ‘jurist-mystics’ (fuqahā-yi ‘ārif), a role he came to embody. His Baḥr al-ma‘ārif, structured around ethical refinement and legal reasoning, offers a clear plea for this integration.Footnote 33 The precise status of Āqāsī within the Ni‘matullāhī order remains particularly ambiguous, as the literature of the order—whether contemporary or written after his death—is extremely discreet on this matter. Some sources, however, report a rivalry between Āqāsī and Ḥājjī Zayn al-‘Ābidīn Shīrvānī (1186–1253/1772–1838) over the claim to the spiritual leadership (quṭbiyyat) of the order.Footnote 34 But what appears evident is that, aside from the influence Āqāsī may have exerted on the sovereign, he never actually had disciples who regarded him as their shaykh.
Āqāsī led a deeply devout life in his youth as an itinerant darvīsh and undertook the pilgrimage to Mecca. He later settled in Tabriz, where he entered the service of Mīrzā ‘Īsā Qā‘im Maqām (d. 1237/1821–1822; hereafter Mīrzā Buzurg) in the 1810s, followed by the minister of ‘Abbās Mīrzā (1203–1249/1789–1833), the valī ‘ahd (crown prince) of Fatḥ ‘Alī Shāh. Mīrzā Buzurg emerged as a supporter of the Sufis at a time when they faced numerous attacks. Āqāsī was employed as the tutor of Mūsā, a half-brother of Mīrzā Abū al-Qāsim Qā‘im Maqām Farāhānī (circa 1158–1214/1745–1799/1800), and was granted a significant tuyūl (fief) by Mīrzā Buzurg. Āqāsī’s power and influence grew, and in 1240/1824, he was appointed chief tutor to the children of ‘Abbās Mīrzā, including Farīdūn Mīrzā (d. 1272/1855–1856) and Muḥammad Mīrzā, the future shāh. Some sources affirm that Āqāsī developed a unique pedagogy and was regarded as a ‘perfect master’ and a ‘source of grace’.Footnote 35 This aspect seems essential, given the centrality of the notion of education in Āqāsī’s treatises. In the early 1820s, he strongly asserted that a military victory against Russia was both necessary and achievable, actively pushing the Qajars to launch a second war. Paradoxically, despite Iran’s heavy and swift defeat in 1241–1243/1826–1828, Āqāsī’s position did not weaken. On the contrary, the influx of Muslim refugees from the Yerevan region into Mākū likely reinforced his influence and standing.Footnote 36 His growing integration into the court culminated in his marriage to one of Fatḥ ‘Alī Shāh’s daughters, ‘Iḍāt al-Nisā’ Khānum.
Āqāsī’s political career experienced a remarkable surge following the death of Fatḥ ‘Alī Shāh and the ascension of Muḥammad Mīrzā to the throne in Rabī‘al-Awwal 1250/November 1834. In Rajab 1251/June 1835, he was appointed ṣadr-i a‘ẓam, the chief minister and highest-ranking official in the Qajar administration, though he preferred to present himself under the title of shakhṣ-i avval (the first dignitary). During his years at the helm of the Qajar state administration, Āqāsī relied heavily on his tribe, the Bayāt, whose political stronghold was in Mākū.Footnote 37 The Bayāt grew particularly powerful and feared, not only in Tehran but also in various cities of western Iran, where they briefly seized the governorship. Āqāsī enjoyed unwavering support from the sovereign, despite facing significant opposition, notably from the chief of the army (amīr-i niẓām) of Azerbaijan.
Āqāsī is frequently depicted in contemporary Persian sources as an extremely incompetent administrator, particularly when compared to his predecessor Qā‘im Maqām and his successor Amīr Kabīr (circa 1223–1268/1807–1852). In 1251/1835–1836, Āqāsī succeeded in removing Qā‘im Maqām’s supporters through a series of purges. However, at a time when central power was under threat from the Āqā Khān’s (d. 1298/1881) revolt in south-eastern Iran,Footnote 38 the campaign to besiege and conquer Herat in 1252–1253/1837–1838 ended in failure. This setback revealed that Āqāsī had not managed to implement the military reforms he had advocated for.Footnote 39 Abbas Amanat mentions an army paralyzed by factionalism and unclear objectives, which likely explains the centrality Āqāsī places on military reforms in his second treatise. Nevertheless, he is also recognised for his strong commitment to reforming both agricultural life and the military. He is notably known for confiscating many tuyūl to finance the state, particularly for constructing new qanāt (underground aqueducts), renovating others, and reforming the army.
The 1840s also saw the rise of Babism, with Sayyid ‘Alī Muḥammad Bāb (d. 1266/1850) emerging as a dissenting spiritual leader who proclaimed himself the herald of a new religious era. However, Āqāsī was reluctant to take decisive action against him. Abbas Amanat suggested that the imprisonment of the Bāb in Mākū was a strategic move by Āqāsī, aimed at confining him to his home region and using him to curb the influence of the fuqahā.Footnote 40 However, from 1845 onward, the ruler’s health declined, leading to rising opposition against Āqāsī. After the shāh’s death, Āqāsī’s power swiftly crumbled, and his Mākū troops, despised by the Tehran population for various forms of harassment, were hunted down and forced to flee the city.Footnote 41 This led Āqāsī to settle in the ‘Atabāt, where he died a year later. However, it should be noted that some sources emphasise a more humanistic approach by Mīrzā Āqāsī in his treatment of his subjects, especially in comparison with his contemporaries. Muḥammad Ḥasan I‘timād al-Salṭaneh remarked,
Ḥājjī [Mīrzā Āqāsī] was not inclined to kill or persecute anyone. He refrained from taking away anyone’s livelihood, frequently interceded on behalf of those facing execution, and spared the guilty from death. Unlike other ṣudūr (grand viziers), he did not annihilate entire families or erase a lineage. He was a person of remarkable calm.Footnote 42
Beyond the core biographical information concerning Āqāsī, numerous sources, both Iranian and foreign, ascribe to him supernatural powers, which gave rise to various speculations. In fact, the particular type of influence he exercised—based on personal charisma, perceived sanctity, and informal proximity to the ruler—finds a notable parallel in the case of Rasputin (1869–1916) in Tsarist Russia.Footnote 43 Both figures emerged in imperial contexts where institutional authority coexisted, at times uneasily, with more esoteric or personalised forms of guidance. Three aspects are frequently highlighted in discussions of Āqāsī. First, he is depicted as the spiritual guide of the ruler, to the point where he is seen almost as the true sovereign of Iran. The Nāsikh al-tavārīkh by Muḥammad Taqī Lisān al-Mulk Sipihr Kāshānī (d. 1297/1879–1880), a key historical chronicle for the middle Qajar period, reports that the shāh himself referred to Āqāsī as ‘the pole of the firmament of Islamic law (sharī‘at) and the spiritual path (ṭarīqat)’, and of a nature superior to that of others.Footnote 44 Āqāsī was also reputed to possess miraculous abilities. Some sources claim that to improve the health of the sovereign, he was able to moderate extreme heat and introduce cooler air. It is emphasised that Muḥammad Shāh firmly believed in Āqāsī’s supernatural powers. On another front, Āqāsī’s significant financial accumulation is frequently mentioned, particularly during his tenure as ṣadr-i a‘ẓam, a period during which he acquired a vast landed estate.Footnote 45
In addition to his role as a leading Qajar statesman, Āqāsī played a significant part in the political and administrative life of his time. He was also a figure of notable theological knowledge, which was reflected in his treatises. In this respect, his two works contribute to the political theology literature of the Qajar period, a field that some ulema began to explore in the early nineteenth century. To a lesser extent, from the 1860s–1870s onwards, other statesmen such as Mīrzā Sa‘īd Khān Anṣārī Mu’tamin al-Mulk (d. 1301/1883)Footnote 46 and Mīrzā Hidayāt Allāh Āshtiyānī (d. 1310/1892–1893)Footnote 47 also wrote reformist texts reflecting a broad religious culture. However, these works lacked the initiatory element that characterised Āqāsī’s treatises. Āqāsī composed the Chahār-i faṣl-i sulṭānī while in Tabriz, serving as tutor to the children of ‘Abbās Mīrzā, including the future ruler, Muḥammad Mīrzā.
It has already been emphasised how significant this period was for Shi‘i Sufism in Iran. Notably, after the reign of Fatḥ ‘Alī Shāh, who is often seen as a ruler who sanctioned violence against Sufis, Muḥammad Shāh reversed the policy towards both Sufism and its practitioners.
Moreover, this article invites us to reconsider the situation, as Āqāsī was not the only Sufi figure entrusted with the education of Muḥammad Mīrzā during Fatḥ ‘Alī Shāh’s reign. Pīr ‘Alī Abū ‘Abd al-Vaḥḥab Nā’inī, for whom a mausoleum was built in Na’in, also took on this role before his death.Footnote 48 It is well-documented that violence against Sufis significantly decreased during Muḥammad Shāh’s reign, with a similar, though lesser, reduction in hostilities towards intra-Shi‘i and non-Muslim minorities. This more favourable environment for Sufism was reflected in active state patronage, including the financing of the renovation of several Sufi mausoleums, such as that of Aḥmad-i Jām (d. 536/1141) in Turbat-i Jām, as well as another key Sufi pilgrimage site in Kerman and Bastam.Footnote 49 Muḥammad Shāh also expressed his Sufi piety by visiting the tombs of ‘Aṭṭār (d. 627/1230) and Shaykh Maḥmūd Shabestarī (d. circa 740/1340).Footnote 50 This particular relationship between temporal power and the Ni‘matullāhiyyah was further emphasised by significant appointments. The Ni‘matullāhī master, Ḥājj Mullā Aḥmad Kirmānshāhī, was appointed governor of Dizfūl, and Mīrzā Mahdī Khū’ī was named munshī (chief secretary) to the ruler.Footnote 51 ‘Abd al-Muḥammad Maḥallātī, another Sufi, was entrusted with negotiating with the ruler (amīr) of Herat during the siege of the city by the Qajar forces in 1253–1254/1837–1838.Footnote 52 This was preceded by the appointment of the Ni‘matullāhī master Raḥmat ‘Alī Shāh Shīrāzī (d. 1253/1837) as vice-governor of the prosperous province of Fars during the early years of Muḥammad Shāh’s reign. It was also during Muḥammad Shāh’s reign that the Dhahabī order secured control over the custodianship (tawliyyāt) of the Shāh Chirāgh mausoleum in Shiraz, likely the most important imāmzādeh—a shrine dedicated to a descendant of an imam—in the country at that time, producing the highest revenues.Footnote 53
These appointments proved significant, as the personal religious inclinations of certain Qajar governors created spaces of greater security for intra-Shi‘i trends. The situation in Kerman during this period is particularly revealing, as Ẓāhir al-Dawlah Ibrāhimī (d. 1240/1824–1825), governor of Kerman and Baluchistan in 1218–1240/1803–1824, allowed the city to become a favourable ground for the growth of the Shaykhi School, which was led from 1259/1843 by his son Muḥammad Karīm Khān Kirmānī (d. 1288/1871).Footnote 54 Nevertheless, the state did not restrict its support solely to the Ni‘matullāhī and continued to back the Uṣūlī clerics, integrating them with the dynasty. Further evidence of the government’s commitment to enforcing the sharī‘ah came with Muḥammad Shāh’s decision to ban the sale of alcohol.Footnote 55
Āqāsī’s political thought: the Chahār-i faṣl-i sulṭānī
Regarding its contribution to questions of authority and political culture within the Shi‘i and Iranian context, the Chahār-i faṣl-i sulṭānī stands as Āqāsī’s most significant treatise. This concise work, spanning approximately twenty pages, was addressed to Muḥammad Mīrzā in 1246/1830, four years before his accession to the throne. Āqāsī composed the Chahār-i faṣl-i sulṭānī in Khūy, a prominent town south-east of Mākū, where his tribe, the Bayāt, wielded considerable influence. Like other Qajar-period treatises of this literary genre, it was likely circulated in a highly restricted, if not entirely confidential, manner. The study of several other treatises in this literary genre has been particularly helpful in grasping the nuances of Āqāsī’s political thought. Unlike many of these works, certain elements appear to be absent from the Chahār-i faṣl-i sulṭānī, and highlighting these omissions also reveals its distinctiveness. Notably, the treatise does not propose a typology of powers. Āqāsī does not include narratives (qiṣāṣ) on the most exemplary rulers of the pre-Islamic or medieval periods, a feature that otherwise seems systematic in the political theology literature of the time.Footnote 56 While this omission may appear understandable when he was ṣadr-i a‘ẓam—and in a sense, himself a ruler—it is less so during his tenure as Muḥammad Mīrzā’s preceptor. More unexpectedly, the cardinal value of justice (‘adālat) is scarcely developed in the treatise. Likewise, Āqāsī does not deem it necessary to systematically reaffirm the obligatory nature of obedience to the ruler. It is also essential to note that the most renowned Ni‘matullāhī masters of the Qajar period have left few traces of their political convictions. However, it is known that a quṭb as eminent as Sulṭān ‘Alī Shāh Gunābādī (1251–1327/1835–1909) viewed political affairs as an integral part of a broader reflection on the relationship between the macrocosm and the microcosm.Footnote 57
The first pages of the Chahār-i faṣl-i sulṭānī address the ordering of the world and its hierarchy, presenting man (insān) as the most complete of creatures (akmal-i mawjūdāt).Footnote 58 Since man embodies the pinnacle of creation and its ultimate purpose, all other creatures are placed in his service. The Universal Intellect (‘aql-i kull) governs and operates within this world, wherein the greatest of human beings can be regarded as the perfect manifestation (maẓhar-i kāmil).Footnote 59 Such an individual exhibits extraordinary theoretical (naẓārī) and practical (‘amālī) qualities and embodies within himself the ‘macrocosm’ (‘ālam-i kabīr).Footnote 60 Emphasising the existence of a vast spiritual hierarchy encompassing all human beings, Āqāsī asserts that some creatures remain distant from the ideal of the maẓhar-i kāmil. These individuals are described as defective (nuqṣānī), ‘in denial of the straightest path’ (tark-i awlā’)—a characteristic Sufi technical expression—or even ‘corrupted’ (fāsiq).Footnote 61 Others, by contrast, stand in closer proximity to this (these) figure(s) of the maẓhar-i kāmil and are thus marked by a state of ‘progress’ (taraqqī).Footnote 62
It appears that Āqāsī employs specific technical terms to denote the same ranks within his conception of spiritual hierarchies. This leads to a multiplicity of possible interpretations of his rhetoric, further complicated by the polysemous nature of many terms and the potential gradations within each rank. Consequently, a reader of the treatise may immediately question whether maẓhar-i kāmil is synonymous with ma‘ṣūm and whether the ruler (sulṭān)—or the highest ruler—is to be understood as an embodiment of the maẓhar-i kāmil.
The centrality of education
Āqāsī asserts that certain divine attributes are transmitted to human beings. In such cases, these mawjūdāt possess an innate (takwīnī) knowledge (dānish), as opposed to knowledge that is acquired (ṣanā‘ī or kasbī).Footnote 63 He thus integrates a fundamental element into his entire political argument: the central role of education (tarbiyyat) or civilisation (tamaddun), a theme also explored in his second treatise.Footnote 64 This education has the capacity to shape all human acquisitions, whether they are considered innate or acquired. Consequently, beings endowed with higher dispositions can benefit from superior education. Āqāsī thus identifies several modes of education and distinguishes three forms of learning, each corresponding to a specific typology of believers. This section is particularly significant given the primacy he accords to the Gnostics (‘urafā’). Here, as elsewhere, he deliberately avoids the term Sufi, despite the fact that his reflections seem to be primarily concerned with the great Sufi masters.Footnote 65 The first category encompasses those who rely on reason to attain knowledge and are referred to as the wise (ḥukamā’). The second consists of those who renounce their desires in pursuit of knowledge, earning them the designation of the pious (mu‘abbad). The third category includes those who cultivate various faculties, such as the renunciation of desires, the practice of meditation, and the engagement of thought. This final category is identified as the ‘principled believers’ (ḥunafā’). These ‘urafā’ are tasked with guiding humanity towards the fulfilment of its potential, which includes, importantly, the acquisition of political science and ‘the art of virtuous leadership’ (taḥṣīl-i ri’āsat-i faḍīlah)—a concept deeply rooted in the philosophical tradition of Fārābī (d. 338/950), for whom political science was essential to the realisation of human perfection.Footnote 66 He clearly implies that he himself belongs to this category of ‘urafā’, whose role is to prepare future rulers for their functions. These Gnostics possess the ability to cultivate all the potentials inherent in man, enabling them to attain their highest degree (kamāl). And one of the instruments for this progress and achievement (takmīlāt) is precisely the mastery of the art of ruling. Paraphrasing the poet Ḥāfiẓ (d. 792/1390), Āqāsī adds—or rather makes Ḥāfiẓ declare—that these Gnostics, here adopting the guise of wandering dervishes (qalandār), are those who ‘seize and bestow the crown of kingship’: ‘On the doorstep of the renunciant’s tavern (rindān) stand the qalandār, Who seize and bestow the crown of kingship.’Footnote 67 Thus, the ‘urafā’ hold full political authority, having reached the highest spiritual levels attainable by humans. However, unable to perform these tasks themselves, they raise rulers (sulṭān) whom they educate, serving as their ‘projections’ (‘ukūs). By referencing this poetry, Āqāsī suggests that the ‘urafā’ retain the power and right to depose rulers at will. In his Mishkāt-i muḥammadiyyah, he further argues that clerics (rūḥānī) are sufficiently knowledgeable to produce rulers from their own ranks, though they do not.Footnote 68 He also asserts that political action does not require a prophet, and that one need not seek the nāmūs-i ilāhī (a term referring to divine law and its decrees, the aḥkām in their entirety), since even the Prophet Muḥammad could not enforce the capital punishment (ḥudūd).Footnote 69 The Prophet Muḥammad could not enforce all aspects of the sharī‘ah, as doing so would have entailed acting as a political figure, a role outside his function. However, within the body of sharī‘ah, there are decrees (aḥkām) linked to political action, which can specifically be categorised under the term siyāsat-i mudun. Consequently, Āqāsī asserts that the creation of the highest civilisation (tamaddun-i fāḍīlah) hinges on the capacity to administer justice, particularly by enforcing the sharī‘ah.Footnote 70 He speaks of ‘justice through laws’ (‘adālat dar ḥuqūq), a justice dependent on the ruler. However, if this civilisation contradicts God’s will, it is referred to as the ‘civilisation of corruption and misguidance’ (tamaddun-i fāsiqih va yā ḍāllih).Footnote 71
World order and progress
Āqāsī insists that the existence of each creature is a direct result of God’s action, with each creature forming part of the divine order of the world. Each one either aligns with the world’s well-being (niẓām-i maṣlaḥat-i ‘ālam) or opposes it, depending on its rank and relation to this order.Footnote 72 When common creatures accept this order and adhere to the religious decrees, they draw closer to the noble embodiments of humanity, those of the highest rank. This movement of humans towards these higher creatures is called ‘fulfilment’ (takāmmul).Footnote 73 Those who reject this order and its laws will see their defects increase. The path taken—whether towards or away from the noblest of men—will manifest both in the external world (‘ālam-i ẓuhūr) and in the individual’s life. Āqāsī therefore emphasises that knowing the most complete of men is crucial, for it provides a model to imitate. And of course, by their very nature, the prophets (anbiyyā’) and the ahl-i bayt (the family of Prophet Muḥammad) occupy the highest rank within the ‘aql-i kull.Footnote 74 On this path to improvement, the ability to engage with the ‘right people’ plays a significant role. This is because man, as both an influential and learning being, evolves in nature (ṭabī‘at) based on his choices of companionship. For this reason, Āqāsī quotes this poetry by Rūmī: ‘Though a mere stone, in the sculptor’s care you are shaped into a jewel.’Footnote 75 The practice of certain pious acts and recommended actions (mustaḥab) also contribute to this progress, with Āqāsī citing the example of crying and lamenting for Imām Ḥusayn (d. 61/680), an act of devotion believed to bring divine reward in Shi‘i eschatology.Footnote 76
Which Sufism for which politics?
Āqāsī frequently addresses and critiques what we might consider ascetic Sufism—more specifically, the wandering dervishes—in his treatises.Footnote 77 One of the evils he attributes to this form of Sufism is the detachment it fosters from any sense of responsibility and service to the broader community, a detachment that, in itself, constitutes a form of oppression. No specific order or individual is named, as is often the case in other treatises within this political theology literature, and Āqāsī consistently refers to the term ‘darvīsh’. Indeed, it is the Sufis who do not adhere to his beliefs that are ostracised and deprived of all credibility. It is possible that Āqāsī is referring to non-Ni‘matullāhī Sufis or those who are not drawn to the model of the faqih-‘ārif embodied by his master, Hamadānī. These polemics also reveal how much Āqāsī perceives himself to be living in a time when religious culture is dominated by Sufism. Indeed, there is no passage in Āqāsī’s treatises that positions the Uṣūlī cleric as the ultimate adversary, which would likely have been too risky. However, in this literary genre, we do encounter some radical critiques of the lower- and middle-ranking clergy, particularly by Kashfī.Footnote 78
Āqāsī thus asserts that the masses (‘avāmm) believe that the status of a perfect man can be attained by leading a life in line with the darvīsh lifestyle. In this view, assuming political authority (salṭanat) stands in opposition to the path a darvīsh must follow. In response, Āqāsī argues that the spiritual elite (khavāṣṣ) understand that perfection can also be attained through ‘superior governance’ (salṭanat-i fāḍīlah), thereby religiously justifying political responsibilities: ‘The order of the world and the hereafter, as well as the protection of the nation and the prayer [religion], is only possible by restraining the greedy and passion-driven men.’Footnote 79 He adds that some argue that darvīshes remain de facto kings (shāh), despite not outwardly appearing as such. Āqāsī refutes this idea and even asserts that the opposite is true, and that even if the ruler does not resemble a darvīsh, he is still a ruler.Footnote 80
Assisting (mu‘āvanat) the political authority
After discussing the world order, spiritual hierarchies, and the path to spiritual progress in the first part of his Chahār-i faṣl-i sulṭānī, Āqāsī shifts to examining political authority. He explores collaboration and assistance (mu‘āvanat) with power but without specifying that this occurs within the context of the Occultation—the concealed state of the Twelfth Imam—a detail often emphasised by other authors in this literary tradition. Nevertheless, his argument remains confined within the framework he previously established, without offering any typology of forms of government as some writers in this tradition have done, nor citing the most famous and widely accepted ḥadīth on the subject.Footnote 81
Āqāsī asserts that theologians (mutakallimīn) hold it essential for individuals to impose certain actions upon themselves in order to generate good (khayr) for others.Footnote 82 Those who neglect to do so, he contends, are of no value to society. Thus, man is encouraged to strive for the well-being of his earthly life (ma‘āsh), and Āqāsī maintains that, within a household, this responsibility should not fall upon a single person; rather, each member must acknowledge their duty and collaborate in acquiring these resources.Footnote 83 It is the supreme responsibility of the ruler to initiate this dynamic. Furthermore, the sovereign, as the one who imposes actions, must have attained the perfection (takmīl) of his being. This argument mirrors the emphasis Āqāsī places, at the beginning of the treatise, on education and inner development. Regarding assistance to political authority, Āqāsī asserts that it is essential to rely on a person who understands the justice he applies and the rights of others.Footnote 84 This individual is needed not only to assist the ruler but also to ‘build’ civilisation and, ultimately, to foster spiritual progress. It is noteworthy that Āqāsī emphasises the need for a specific person rather than a competent administration as a whole—an idea that gained prominence in the second half of the nineteenth century. In this sense, Āqāsī’s statement seems to already justify the administrative system he established from 1251/1835 onward. With such a person by his side, the ruler must be able to eradicate tyranny from the realm in which people live. The sages (ḥukamā) refer to him as a ‘just ruler’ (sulṭān-i ‘ādil), a term that only appears later in the treatise.
Āqāsī also asserts that, in the language of the law (zabān-i nāmūs), the expression ẓill Allāh (shadow of God) signifies a conception of power with its divine origin embedded in the law.Footnote 85 Āqāsī offers a brief yet profound definition of the concept of ẓill Allāh, one that is original within the context of our political theology literature. He asserts that the shadow of every entity is in harmony and interconnected with its owner. Since the ruler is inherently in communion with God, and the subjects live in peace through his rule, the ruler is, by definition, ẓill Allāh.Footnote 86 Āqāsī, in this context, quotes two verses (bayt) of the poet Niẓāmī (d. 605/1209), making only slight modifications:’May this great, prosperous tree live, beneath whose shade one can find oneself. At times, the tablecloth (sofreh) is spread under this shade, and at other times, one finds solace for the soul beneath it.’Footnote 87 In a section of his Mishkāt-i Muḥammadiyyah, Āqāsī seeks to redefine the concept of the shadow of God, suggesting that the permanence of a being depends on the path it chooses. If this being pursues a noble and superior direction, this path reveals itself in two forms as the shadow of God. Firstly, the shadow manifests as the place of peacefulness (āsāyish), and in this sense, the virtuous leadership (ri’āsat-i fāḍīlah) is indeed a source of tranquility. Secondly, since the shadow of each entity reflects that being, the elevated direction is intimately connected to the divine shadow (ẓill-i ulūhiyyat), particularly because no intermediary exists between them.Footnote 88
One of the rare authors to offer a definition of ẓill Allāh somewhat akin to that of Āqāsī was his contemporary, the mystical theologian Kashfī. This mystic emphasised that all creatures are ontologically shadows of God, particularly in their role as witnesses to divine power, as they are creations of the latter. Kashfī proposed a reading that imbued the term ẓill Allāh with a profound doctrinal significance, illustrating both the power of the sovereign and the divine rights inherent in his authority. According to Kashfī, the king is the ẓill Allāh par excellence among all creatures.Footnote 89
Conventions and advice (pand/andarz) on the art of governing
The last pages of the treatise mark a shift towards the classical literature of advice (pand or andarz) to the prince, as well as the art of governing within an Islamic context. Āqāsī increases the use of simple didactic statements in this final section, which ultimately seems of lesser significance and, in some respects, poorly written and executed. Nevertheless, one aspect stands out, capturing one of the most fundamental expectations of the ulema in this political literature—the necessity for the ruler to maintain continuous contact with the jurists, the ulema, and the statesmen. However, Āqāsī’s justification differs from that of other ulema of his time. For the sovereign, the issue is not merely consulting these ulema; rather, it is primarily about preventing these social bodies from turning against him and ceasing to obey him. These groups, whether Sufis or Shaykhis, do not appear to develop a systematic doctrine concerning the general representation of the imam, nor do they seem to train a significant number of theology students. This may explain why they did not produce a structured social body capable of playing an institutional role alongside the authorities. As a result, we find no clear reference to the diarchical model of power-sharing between rulers and the ulema in Āqāsī’s work, even in this section. In fact, this political conception also appears to be absent from a treatise within this political literature, written towards the end of Nāṣir al-Dīn Shāh’s reign by the Ni‘matullāhī master Mīrzā Qāḍī Muḥammad b. Ja‘far Sar Yazdī Dhū al-Riyāsatayn (d. 1312/1894).Footnote 90 More broadly, it does not seem to have been a defining feature of Shi‘i minority trends such as Shaykhism.
Āqāsī presents his main advice in the form of lists, a common stylistic feature of the andarznāmeh genre. He argues that, just as the humours of the body, the foundations (arkān) of good governance are four. These include, first and foremost, the mastery of knowledge (‘ibrat or ‘ilm), followed by the ability to confront difficulties with courage and resolve (shajā‘at). Equally important are generosity towards the subjects, as well as the sovereign’s capacity to give and bestow favors (‘aṭā’), especially in managing the army’s various branches.Footnote 91
If rulers strive to gain a thorough understanding of the material reality of their kingdom, they can expect several benefits.Footnote 92 These include the generation of greater wealth and income, a reduction in corruption (fisād) and discord, and increased harmony between the ruler and the subjects. Āqāsī also offers two final pieces of advice:Footnote 93 first, the ruler should avoid consulting men who do not appear loyal, a common topos in this literary genre; second, those in power must educate and prepare themselves by reading the literature of advice.Footnote 94 This last point, once again, underscores the very purpose of Āqāsī’s own treatise.
Spiritual and political order in Āqāsī’s political theology
One of the most distinctive features of the vision presented by Āqāsī in his Chahār faṣl-i sulṭānī va shīam-i farūkhī is his conception of the ruler as a spiritual guide (murshid)—even though the term itself is never explicitly mentioned. He elevates the sovereign to the status of a central mediator between God and His creatures. In a pivotal section of his treatise, he asserts his intention to explore a level (martabah) beyond that of the common just ruler, a perspective that fundamentally deepens the purpose of his work and calls for a more refined interpretative framework.Footnote 95
The upper level is represented by the just ruler (sulṭān-i ‘ādil), endowed with complete knowledge of all the ‘realities’, including the religious decrees (aḥkām-i dīnī), which are also described as nāmūs-i ilāhī (the divine law). Under these conditions, such a ruler is able to promise and guarantee all the rights of the subjects.Footnote 96 In this case, the just ruler, who applies ‘true justice’ (‘adl-i ḥaqqī), can be regarded as a guardian (valī) or an absolute guardian (valī-yi muṭlāq), terms synonymous with the concept of the ‘perfect manifestation’ (maẓhar-i kāmil) introduced at the beginning of his treatise.Footnote 97 The authority of this figure over events appears to be absolute (muṭlaq), as he embodies the ‘aql-i kull (Universal Intellect). Every individual must obey the just ruler, who is also a valī. Salvation in both this world and the afterlife hinges on one’s ability to take him as a model. Āqāsī asserts that opposition to this ruler constitutes disbelief (kuffr) and misguidance (ḍallal), for opposition to the truth is evidently invalid (bāṭil).Footnote 98 Hence, those who obey him are assured of salvation. This portrayal of the just ruler may imply a reference to the Imām as the a‘rāf, the enigmatic barrier described in the Qur’ān between hell and paradise. In this way, Āqāsī introduces the highest spiritual and political authority, which, in the strict Shi‘i context and lexicon, can only be the imam, though he does not explicitly name him as such in his treatise. Within the Sufi framework, this figure could also be understood as the perfect man (insān-i kāmil).
The second level in this hierarchy also corresponds to a just ruler, yet one who lacks complete knowledge of all ‘realities’. For this reason, he must pledge allegiance (ba‘yat) to the one who has attained the ultimate form of allegiance—that is, to the essence of the first level, the valī or valī-yi muṭlāq. This allegiance is crucial: without a full understanding of these foundational principles, he would lack the necessary guidance to rule justly and effectively. According to the Sufi terminology of the time, which Āqāsī is careful not to employ, this second figure in the hierarchy would correspond to the buzurg-i vaqt (spiritual elder of the age) or the quṭb (spiritual pole)—likely, in his view, the highest living Ni‘matullāhī master. However, considering Āqāsī’s pursuit of authority and position, it is not entirely implausible that he might be alluding to himself here. His close relationship with the young prince, particularly his focus on the sovereign’s education, as well as his prior connection with Hamadānī, may support this possibility.
However, the fact that Āqāsī chose the title of shakhṣ-i avval to describe himself and define his position within the state administration during the reign of Muḥammad Shāh—a term nearly synonymous with buzurg-i vaqt—opens the door to further interpretations. The third level in this hierarchy is then occupied by the political ruler who fully acknowledges this second rank, thereby recognising the highest spiritual (and political) authority. This ruler can also be referred to as valī-yi muṭlaq (the absolute authority).Footnote 99
More crucially, Āqāsī seems to connect this ‘common’ or lower just ruler—not the supreme human being or the imam—to a kind of murshid. This recalls the religio-political culture prevalent during the Safavid period, especially at its inception. Although the subject could not directly meet or converse with the ruler, he still received his education and became his shadow, his projection (‘ukūs).Footnote 100 By consistently linking political discourse to the ordering of the world through education and transmission, with the goal of spiritual elevation and imitation, Āqāsī suggests—or encourages us to consider—that the ruler also serves as a spiritual guide for the subjects, who thereby emerge as potential disciples in their pursuit of progress. In this regard, the much later treatise of Dhū al-riyāsatayn, already mentioned, proves to be particularly insightful. The king is introduced as a link (mutavāṣil) between the subjects and the Imām of Time, and it is even asserted that ‘the radiance (fuyūḍāt) [of the Shāh] extends over the whole world’.Footnote 101 The use of the technical term fuyūḍāt is significant, as it is frequently employed to refer to the influence of the Twelfth Imam on earth.
To illustrate this unique status of the sovereign as a spiritual guide, Āqāsī also provides multiple statements offering varied interpretations. He begins by quoting the last part of a verse (bayt) by Ḥāfiẓ, which seems to draw a comparison between the relationship of the sovereign with his subjects and that between a servant (khādim) and a person served (makhdūm), who must be aware of the benefits received: ‘O God, may the one who has benefited from a service not be ungrateful.’Footnote 102 Āqāsī also suggests another parallel by referencing the relationship between Imām ‘Alī and his companion, Mālik Ashtar (d. 39/659–660), the governor of Egypt. This relationship, according to Āqāsī, falls within the hierarchical framework of state organisation and is conceived as a spiritual initiation.Footnote 103 Āqāsī emphasises that the person served, the makhdūm, must remain attentive to the servant and forgive him when he proves ineffective. Moreover, when the servant, the khādim, shows progress, the person served must make every effort to encourage and promote this advancement.Footnote 104
Among the believers, a series of figures emerge, each acting as an intermediary between God and others, reflecting the hierarchy above them. These figures are as follows: 1. God—the highest authority; 2. The ‘perfect manifestation’ (maẓhar-i kāmil), or valī, or sulṭān-i ‘ādil, endowed with complete awareness of all the ‘realities’; 3. Those who have pledged their allegiance (ba‘yat) to the supreme authority. This individual represents the highest gnostic (‘ārif) of the time; 4. Another sulṭān-i ‘ādil, who, though lacking full knowledge of all the ‘realities’, submits to the spiritual authority above him. This ruler also assumes the role of a murshid for his subjects; 5. The subject (ra‘iyat), as a creature and potential follower (murid) of this ruler, at least for those seeking spiritual progress.
To clarify this ordering of the world, Āqāsī also invokes a ḥadīth which states: ‘The believer (mu’min) is the reflection of the believer.’Footnote 105 Therefore, obeying the one who has received the education of the valī is, in fact, being obedient to this valī, and this obedience is essential for drawing closer to him. Āqāsī also quotes the Qur’ān:
But whoso makes a breach with the Messenger after the guidance has become clear to him and follows a way other than the believers’, him We shall turn over to what he has turned to and We shall roast him in Gehenna—an evil homecoming!Footnote 106
Another statement by Āqāsī provides more evidence for the possibility of considering the ruler as having characteristics akin to those of a murshid. He affirms that the entirety of his argument demonstrates that, in order to follow the best path and make progress, one must model oneself after a person who masters three essential aspects: the ‘aql (reason), the sulūk (spiritual wayfaring), and the shar‘ (the religious law).Footnote 107 This triadic structure clearly alludes to the well-known Sufi synthesis of ḥaqīqat (Truth), ṭarīqat (the Path), and sharī‘at (the Law)—a foundational concept deeply embedded in classical Sufi thought.
Concluding his theoretical synthesis on political authority, Āqāsī asserts that it is essential for the just sovereign, who has acknowledged his superior authority and, consequently, the highest authority, to remain attentive to his subjects. This ruler possesses the ‘customary right’ (ḥaqq-i ‘urfī) and has the capacity to apply ‘customary justice’ (‘adl-i ‘urfī), in contrast to a regime enforcing ‘true justice’ (‘adl-i ḥaqqī), which represents the highest level of the politico-spiritual hierarchy and is capable of enforcing all punishments (ḥudūd), including possible massacres (qatl-i ‘āmm) of women and children, should such measures be deemed necessary.Footnote 108
While this highly important passage in the treatise is short and not the conclusion, it does, however, conclude its theoretical dimension. For various reasons, interpretations remain very open, particularly because of the remarkably polysemous nature of the vocabulary used, as well as Āqāsī’s occasional tendency to use the same terms to designate distinct categories. Depending on their religious affiliation, readers can also easily interpret the text in a specific sense.
Conclusion
This article has highlighted some of the central arguments in Āqāsī’s political work, shedding light on various aspects of the history of Iran, Sufism, and Shi‘ism during the reign of Muḥammad Shāh, and more broadly, in the first half of the nineteenth century. These elements also suggest that Āqāsī’s treatises are texts centred on himself, insofar as they present the two main positions he held in his career as pivotal for the balance of the world. I am referring to Āqāsī’s position as tutor to the princes and, to a lesser extent, his role as the first assistant to the sovereign. Additionally, we could hypothesise that Āqāsī identifies himself with the second figure in the spiritual and political hierarchy, a stance that would also imply a claim to a high status within the Ni‘matullāhiyyah—a position that, as is evident, was never granted to him by any disciple of the order. Another major question remains. Since Āqāsī does not offer a typology of powers, it remains unclear how he would classify a ruler who has not undergone initiation into the acknowledgment of the second rank within the spiritual and political hierarchy. This is all the more crucial given that Fatḥ ʿAlī Shāh, at the time of the treatise, was no ordinary sovereign, shaping and embodying the new dynasty's legitimacy.
Acknowledgements
I am solely responsible for the article’s content, yet at the same time I wish to acknowledge my colleague and friend Ertuğrul Ertekin for his collaborative reading of these sources and for engaging with me in thoughtful and stimulating discussions.
Conflicts of interest
None.
