‏إظهار الرسائل ذات التسميات مدن. إظهار كافة الرسائل
‏إظهار الرسائل ذات التسميات مدن. إظهار كافة الرسائل
الجمعة، 22 نوفمبر 2024

Download PDF | John Ferejohn, Frances Rosenbluth - War and State Building in Medieval Japan (2010).

 Download PDF | John Ferejohn, Frances Rosenbluth - War and State Building in Medieval Japan (2010).

194 Pages 




Contributors

John A. Ferejohn is a political economist and democratic theorist who has written widely in the areas of political institutions and behavior, judicial politics, and the philosophy of social science. He was the Carolyn S. G. Munro Professor of Po liti cal Science at Stanford University before becoming Professor of Law and Po liti cal Science at New York University in 2009. 


Ferejohn is a member of the National Academy of Sciences and the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, and has held fellowships with the Brookings Institution, the Guggenheim Foundation, the Center for Advanced Study at the University of Illinois, and the Center for the Advanced Study of the Behavioral Sciences at Stanford. He received an Honorary Degree from Yale University in 2007 for his contribution to the development of positive po liti cal theory. He sits on the editorial boards of Social Choice and Welfare, Democratization, Supreme Court Economic Review, and the Cambridge Press series Philosophy and Law and Economics and Philosophy.


Frances McCall Rosenbluth is a po liti cal economist with a special interest in Japan. She is the Damon Wells Professor of International Politics at Yale University. She is a member of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences and has received fellowships from the Fulbright Commission, the Social Science Research Council, the Abe Fellowship Program of the Japan Foundation, and the Council on Foreign Relations. Her books include Financial Politics in Contemporary Japan (Cornell 1989), Japan’s Po liti cal Marketplace (Harvard 1994, with Mark Ramseyer), Th e Politics of Oligarchy: Institutional Choice in Imperial Japan (Cambridge 1996, with Mark Ramseyer), an edited book on Th e Po liti calEconomy of Japan’s Low Fertility (Stanford 2007), Women, Work, and Power (Yale University Press 2010, with Torben Iversen), and Japan Transformed: Politi cal Change and Economic Reform (Prince ton University Press 2010, with Michael Th ies). Thomas Conlan is a historian of Japan at Bowdoin College. Professor Conlan studied Japa nese history at the University of Michigan (B.A., 1986), Kyoto University, and Stanford University (Ph.D., 1998). Conlan’s scholarship focuses on medieval Japa nese history and in par tic u lar on the nature of warfare and the po liti cal role of esoteric (Shingon) Buddhism. His books include In Little Need of Divine Intervention (Cornell 2001); and State of War: Th e Violent Order of Fourteenth Century Japan (Michigan 2003). Karl Friday teaches at the University of Georgia, where he focuses on Japa nese military institutions and traditions. His Ph.D. is from Stanford in history in 1989. His books include Hired Swords: Th e Rise of Private Warrior Power in Early Japan (Stanford 1992), Legacies of the Sword: the Kashima Shinryu and Samurai Martial Culture (Hawaii 1997), and Samurai, Warfare and the State in Early Medieval Japan (Routledge 2004). Professor Friday’s most recent book is called The First Samurai: Taira Masakado and His World (John Wiley & Sons). Susumu Ike is a professor of medieval and early modern history at Hitotsubashi University in Japan. 


He is widely known in Japan for his economic history of Japan and for his research on Hideyoshi Toyotomi’s invasion of Korea. Tsuguharu Inaba is well known in Japan as a proponent of “new cultural history,” which examines po liti cal economy from “the bottom up.” Eschewing older models of history that focused on elite behavior or economic determinism, Inaba’s research entails painstaking archival work to understand the lives of common villagers. Pierre Souyri is a historian of medieval Japan at the University of Geneva. Professor Souyri received his Ph.D. in history at Paris- Nanterre University in 1984 and taught at the Paris Institute of Oriental languages and civilizations (Inalco) for fi ft een years before taking his current position in Geneva in 2003. Although most of his scholarly work is in French, English- speaking readers are familiar with his highly accessible book on Japa nese history, Th e World Upside Down: Medieval Japa nese Society (Columbia 2001). 


Carol Richmond Tsang is a specialist in the religious movements in medieval Japan that successfully resisted Japa nese territorial consolidation for many de cades. She received her Ph.D. in history from Harvard in 2005 and is the author of War and Faith: Ikko Ikki in Late Muromachi Japan (Harvard East Asia Center 2007). 



Introduction Th e Ninja— the lightly armed warrior who operates by stealth and amazing physical prowess to attack powerfully equipped enemies— is a familiar comic book image and heroic action fi gure. It is generally known that the ninja existed sometime in the mists of Japa nese history. Less well understood is that the ninja was but one manifestation of fi erce and extensive re sis tance to encroaching armies in the dying years of medieval Japan. Local farming communities, particularly those in mountain valleys, armed themselves with simple weapons and guerrilla techniques to forestall the trend toward territorial consolidation and centralized taxation. Th e transformation of “ninja” (the “forbearing ones” or shinobi mono) into warriors with virtually supernatural powers is a recent invention that glorifi es the struggle of humble mountain villages for local autonomy in the late sixteenth century. Th e world is more familiar with similar events in Eu rope. Th e legend of William Tell is of a simple mountain man who inspired Swiss alpine farmers in 1307 to resist domination by the Habsburg Empire. Tell, it is said, was forced to shoot an apple on his son’s head in exchange for freedom aft er he failed to bow to the Austrian governor’s hat placed in the village square.



In the Battle of Morgarten in 1315, Swiss farmers armed with rocks, logs, and pikes are said to have crushed the magnifi cent cavalry of Duke Leopold I of Austria in an ambush at Morgarten Pass, pushing countless horses and their riders off a steep mountainside, spearing other unfortunates through with pikes, and causing the rest to fl ee in terror. Swiss pikers from mountain villages managed to protect their land from foreign invaders, thereby assuring Swiss autonomy. Feared and admired the  world over for their ferocity in battle, Swiss fi ghters were recruited into mercenary armies throughout Eu rope. 



The Roman Catholic pope chose them for his own guards, a role they continue to serve, at least symbolically, to this day. Unlike the Re nais sance Italians or the seventeenth- century En glish, the Swiss did not elaborate an indigenous theory of limited government, though their practices of cantonal government with local referenda have endured. Th e Swiss mountain warriors were uneducated farmers and woodsmen scrabbling out a living in alpine valleys and were unfamiliar with the classical Greek and Roman texts that inspired Italian and En glish antimonarchical theorizing. What distinguishes the Swiss in the forest cantons from farmers elsewhere— as well as from Swiss farmers in the rolling hills in the north— was not so much a belief in the right to their land, but the formidable terrain that made it possible for them to think they had a chance to preserve their in dependence. 


Th ere is little wonder that the great plains of Eu rope, which sometimes doubled as highways for marauding armies, were populated with seemingly weak- kneed farmers who chose instead to exchange their labor for military protection. Japa nese mountain dwellers and Swiss alpine farmers took naturally to fi ghting for their freedom, not because they were braver than their lowland counterparts, but because their craggy fortresses gave them the possibility of resisting domination. Th ree other groups in Japan successfully resisted po liti cal incorporation for centuries. For seafaring pirates (wako), water provided the functional equivalent of mountain defense. Th eir ships navigated deft ly through the coastal waters, which they knew better than those who commanded the commercial ships on which they preyed or the government’s ships that pursued them. As Japan’s earliest historical rec ords testify, pirates plagued coastal commerce around the Japa nese archipelago from time immemorial. Th e po liti cal arm of Buddhism constituted a second group in medieval Japa nese society that managed for centuries to repel the government’s encroaching territorial and jurisdictional authority. Buddhist temples, monasteries, and farming communities, oft en heavily armed but also oft en allied with members of the imperial family, avoided government taxation and regulation until Oda Nobunag, one of the unifi ers of Japan, fi nally brought them to heel in the 1580s. Priests protected the tax- free status of temple lands by promising blessings to their patrons, but they would resort to armed defense when necessary. In the case of the spectacularly expansive Ishiyama Honganji branch of Jodo shinshu (Pure Land) Buddhism (discussed in detail in Carol Tsang’s  chapter in this book), thousands of believers were members of a vast Buddhist movement in the province of Kaga. Th ey enjoyed de facto autonomy from Kyoto or local warlords until they were vanquished in 1584. Less romantic but more successful was the opposition to centralized rule by the territorial domains in the far- fl ung islands of Kyushu and Shikoku or the outer reaches of eastern Honshu, which had consolidated locally around a powerful warlord (daimyō).



 It was not until the Battle of Sekigahara in 1600 that these great outlying domains were vanquished. Th is battle occurred some 15 years aft er the defeat of mountain villages and religious communities, and only when one of the lords switched sides in the end game to gain spoils from the others. Th e secret to the local domains’ longevity was their attainment of considerable economies of territorial scale through the exchange of security for taxation with which to fund large armies. Th is early set of successful Hobbesian bargains at the local level would infl uence Japan’s constitutional structure for centuries to come, in the form of Tokugawa’s de facto federal system, which was built on semiautonomous domains.


 All of Japan, some parts of which were more aff ected than others, succumbed to Tokugawa rule for three centuries before a new government would take tentative steps toward constitutional monarchy in 1868. Although the Meiji oligarchs only cracked open the door to electoral competition, the energetic expressions of free speech and support for democracy by incipient political parties were testament to a latent yearning for self- governance. Th is is not to say that Japan’s freedom- fi ghting past was a continuing legacy that kept alive the potential for re sis tance. Re sis tance or acquiescence in Japan’s early history followed a pattern of opportunity or necessity. The Japa nese accommodation to military rule in the 1930s and 1940s, which was followed by an enthusiastic embrace of democracy from 1945 onward, is better explained by changes in constraints than by long- standing mental frames. 



This book relates the tumultuous events of Japan’s medieval and early modern history— roughly 1185 to 1600— to theorizing about war and politics elsewhere. Japa nese resisters and Swiss alpine warriors are exceptions to the general rule that people tend to populate fertile plains where livelihood is the easiest to secure. Th e plains areas were also the favored pathways of invading armies and were used to destroy the food supplies of enemy troops as well as to amass large armies on a battlefi eld. While Japa nese and Swiss holdouts provide a fascinating sideshow, the main story of the emergence of the modern territorial state is a Hobbesian one of distraught peasants exchanging fi nancial  and labor resources for military protection. We do not intend to paint a picture of happy peasants bargaining and contracting for a better life. Rather, we seek to underscore the severe circumstances in which the Japa nese, along with many of the earth’s population, found themselves. As the weak have always known, when life is “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short,” subservience to a protective power may be a lesser evil, even if it is a deeply resented one. Japanese and Swiss fi ghters off er a romantic picture of rustic self- governance of the sort that Rousseau contemplated in his discourse on equality. But Rousseau’s world was out of reach for most people. In the embattled lowlands of France, for example, the protection that comes with strong centralized government gave Bodin’s work widespread credibility. Opposition to absolutism was stiff er, and theorizing about limited government was more prolifi c in Italy and En gland, whose indeterminate topography left open a range of political outcomes.



 War, though miserable for those who fi ght and for those whose homes and fi elds are destroyed in the path of battle, can sometimes function as a po liti cal leveler. History provides some dramatic examples of po liti cal rights that have issued from war mobilization, starting with classical Athens and republican Rome. Mobilizing for war can shift the balance of bargaining power away from rulers in favor of those whose resources are required for battle. But much depends on several factors that affect how much and to whom rulers need to make concessions in exchange for resources, including whether the people supplying resources for war value the protection of a powerful ruler. If communities are confident of their ability to protect themselves, they will be willing to fight for others only in exchange for something of value such as po liti cal freedoms or, if they are already free, for pay. 



Japanese mountain villagers needed relatively little protection from overlords because their topography made it possible for them to protect themselves. By contrast, agricultural communities that were located in the crossroads of competing territorial claims were more likely to supply increasingly large revenues in exchange for protection. Their fear of violence and instability was greater even than their desire for freedom from domination. Their willingness to supply resources for large armies lies at the root of Japan’s political unification in the sixteenth century. Th e same logic accounts for the rise of Eu rope’s large territorial monarchies. 


The Rise and Fall of Decentralized Military Rule in Medieval Japan Th e debates among social and economic historians over the repressive nature of Japa nese feudalism have largely played themselves out as accumulating evidence suggests that farmers retained some leverage in dealing with overlords. We will therefore avoid using the term feudalism altogether. Moreover, farmers’ leverage varied considerably over time and place. Still underdeveloped, however, is theoretical analysis explaining this variation in leverage both within Japan and between Japan and elsewhere. Th e contributors to this volume establish that, holding all else constant, farmers’ bargaining leverage was inversely related to their vulnerability to military attack and hence to their willingness to pay for protection. All else is not constant, of course, because there were also more purely economic sources of farmers’ bargaining power, such as labor scarcity during the early period of land abundance. Japan was settled in the Paleolithic period, tens of thousands of years ago, by hunter- gatherers from the Asian mainland (to which Japan was physically attached by land bridges during the ice age) and fisher folk from Polynesia who enjoyed land abundance and relatively egalitarian social structures. Then, in about 300 b.c., waves of immigrants from Korea invaded Japan and pushed the earlier inhabitants into the mountains and outlying islands. Th e new ruling elite organized in to political units (uji) that jostled among themselves for preeminence. By the eighth century, the ujihad imported ideas along with material culture from China and took to calling their leader an “emperor” on the Chinese model.


Imperial succession, though sometimes spectacularly contested, was usually managed peacefully through negotiations among a co ali tion of leading clans. Unlike many powerful monarchical dynasties in China or Europe, imperial succession rules were loose, allowing for a large number of potential heirs. A signifi cant part of the ruling class derived benefi t from the imperial institution, giving it the structure of an oligarchy rather than an autocracy. Th e scions of some court families emigrated to the provinces beginning in the late ninth century. Th ey did well for themselves by exploiting their connections to powerful court fi gures and institutions, and by obtaining sinecures as government offi cials or managers of private estates. Th e court, in turn, cultivated its connection to these emerging military families to help extend the reach of the court into the hinterlands and to protect the court from both internal and external threats. 


Access to abundant frontier land, followed by the scramble to clear new arable land out of forests and swamps, aff orded a modicum of bargaining leverage to farmers who were willing to do this work. Noble families, whose land was exempt from some kinds of taxation, bid up the price of agricultural labor in their eff orts to claim new land for themselves. Farmers oft en chose to work as tenants on this tax- privileged land rather than to till taxable lands allotted to them by the central government. Meanwhile, provincial nobles and other elites increasingly commended their lands to military leaders, who could defend the land from predation by bandits and opportunistic neighbors. In the centuries that followed until the sixteenth century, the imperial court became overshadowed by military order provided by one group of warriors or another. Periods of stability were punctuated dramatically by violent rivalries, until all of Japan— save a few mountain redoubts— became engaged in civil war from 1467. Th e romantic image of the valiant and honorable medieval samurai keeping the peace is a myth. Among warriors, loyalty to their lord was least common when it was the most valued. Warriors fought alongside their lords when they thought they could win, but they oft en switched sides to join the victors rather than have their land confi scated and reallocated among the winners. Among the farmers whose land was ravaged and lives were destroyed, war was hell.Territorial Consolidation Farmers were inevitably drawn into wars among provincial warriors in one way or another. But by the mid- fi ft eenth century, when territorial control of Japan was divided into scores of local domains, two of the most innovative warlords, Oda Nobunaga (1534– 1582) and his general Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1536– 1598) who succeeded him, sharpened the division of labor between farmers and warriors (heino bunri) that had already begun to emerge under domainal rule. Farmers were to remain on their land to produce food and pay taxes, while only warriors (many who had previously been farmers, jizamurai) would fi ght in battles. Although taxes increased, so did agricultural productivity and economic growth.


 Making good on the promise to protect farmers gave these leaders an enormous advantage over their opponents. Leaving farmers on the farm, Oda Nobunaga and Toyotomi Hideyoshi created disciplined and skilled armies. Histories of modern warfare herald Maurice of Nassau (1567– 1625) and Gustav Adolf of Sweden (1594– 1632) for building regimented and skilled armies, but Oda  Nobunaga and Toyotomi Hideyoshi were achieving similar success on the other side of the globe. Hideyoshi also carried out extensive land surveys to clarify available assets for taxation, and he dealt gently with former enemies to win their compliance. In the space of less than two de cades, Hideyoshi and Nobunaga reversed the centrifugal movement toward smaller po liti cal units and created signifi cant economies of scale. By the 1580s, they had managed to consolidate about half of Japan’s land mass under unitary rule. Although it remained for Tokugawa to build a co ali tion big enough to fi nish the job, Nobunaga and Hideyoshi had broken the back of re sis tance to central military control. Warrior- farmers in mountain hideaways and armed monks in monasteries in Kyoto, Kanagawa, and elsewhere held out with remarkable tenacity. For these fortress communities, some by virtue of geography and others by virtue of religiously motivated militarism, the protection that Oda Nobunaga and Toyotomi Hideyoshi aff orded came at a dear price: their autonomy. Th e result was a series of ferocious, village- razing battles in which the trained armies of samurai won. It was not a technologically foregone conclusion, however, for guns were available to both sides. Th e or gan i za tion al and numerical superiority of the conquering army was made possible by the taxes of millions of war- weary farmers.


War and State Building in Japan and Eu rope Following the fall of the imperial court in the late twelft h century, Japan came to be dotted with castles of noble warriors in much the same way as was then happening in Eu rope. Farmers in the surrounding countryside provided labor, crops, or both in exchange for protection from invaders provided by the nobility’s cavalry. Common to both Japan and Eu rope was the rather small territorial size of feudal domains aft er the breakup of empires, given the diffi culty of protecting large tracts of open terrain with small bands of warriors on horse back. It was not until war once again became endemic, and farmers were willing to pay larger sums for their protection, that military leaders raised armies large enough to command expansive territorial control. Changes in economies of territorial scale are, of course, also aff ected by factors such as modes of economic production and military technology. But economics and technology, whether alone or together, leave unexplained substantial parts of the variation in scale economies. Economic theory might suggest, for example, that Eastern Eu rope was dominated by larger fi efs and more per sis tent  serfdom because economies of scale in grain production there are greater than for the crops cultivated in the hillier terrain of Western Eu rope. Th e fi xed costs of maintaining teams of oxen and other farm equipment would be too great for small landholders, making large manors more eco nom ical ly productive. Th ere is no obvious reason, however, why farmers might not have worked out some cooperative arrangement to share expensive livestock and tools. Another infl uential economic model of serfdom (and slavery) turns standard bargaining logic on its head. Precisely because abundant land- to- labor ratios favored peasants in Eastern Eu rope compared to Western Eu rope, po liti cal regimes had to be more oppressive in order to extract economic surplus from peasants. Regimes that mustered coercive power displaced their more timid counterparts because they were able to extract greater eff ort and productivity from peasants. But this model does not explain the origins of coercive power. Military technology is another possible explanation for changes in economies to territorial size. Th e introduction of stirrups to Eu rope from somewhere in Asia in the late seventh century gave the cavalry an edge over amassed foot soldiers, ushering in an era of feudalism in which only nobles could aff ord the required horses and armor. Castles were easy to defend and hard to destroy, creating diseconomies of scale until the invention of heavy artillery in the midfi ft eenth century. With the development of cannon in 1449– 1450, Charles VII of France regained much of Normandy by knocking down 60 fortifi cations— each of which took the En glish a year to build— at a clip of more than one a week. Th e Turks destroyed Constantinople in 1453 with comparable dispatch. Well- regimented armies, equipped with heavy artillery, were now a match for the castles and cavalry of the nobility. Changes in technology may indeed have shift ed the relative productivity between capital- and labor- intensive modes of warfare, with potential consequences for the bargaining leverage of those with capital or labor. While rich nobles thrived in the age of the cavalry, farmers stood to gain from the military value of foot soldiers before the stirrup and aft er the cannon. But the exposure of farmland to plundering armies meant that farmers were always exploited, even when they were mobilizationally useful. Th ey were too vulnerable to make use of their relative scarcity as bargaining leverage. Early modern Poland is instructive here because the inability of Polish peasants to assert their natural bargaining advantage conferred by the abundance of labor relative to land has always been something of a mystery to economists. Th e dominance of the Polish landed nobility makes more sense when one re- members the serial invasions by Magyar and other horse back invaders, against whom the Polish cavalry was quite successful.



The Polish cavalry’s battle record was so glorious that Poland neglected military innovation and was destroyed by Rus sian and Prus sian armies of foot soldiers in 1794 and 1797. For farmers the emergence of larger territorial units was a double- edged sword. Although the larger government unit was able to raise more powerful armies and provide greater security, it also meant that farmers lost the benefit of exit options among multiple political units. Th is was particularly true in Eastern Eu rope where there were fewer cities to provide absconding peasants with anonymity and alternative employment. Consolidating territorial size is a function of raising enough revenue to pay for the inputs of war, a problem the economic and technology accounts fail to address. Th e remaining puzzle is identifying the source of this money. Th e medieval Japa nese experience, like the Eu ro pe an one, revolved around an implicit peasant demand for protection. Lords competed for the loyalty of lesser lords, but ultimately the whole edifi ce rested on resources, which were wrested from the land in some fashion. Lords had an incentive to extract from their own base and compete for the loyalty of neighboring farmers.




 Only where warfare was infrequent or where locals were confi dent of their ability to defend themselves did peasants resist taxes and territorial consolidation. Territorial consolidation began in those fl at areas that were most vulnerable to military invasion and spread as the armies of those areas gained preeminence. In France, monarchical control began in the Ile de France and Normandy but was resisted longer in Langue d’Oc and Brittany, and only gained widespread ac cep tance in the wake of harrowing religious violence in the sixteenth century. Elsewhere in Eu rope, taxes were higher and armies were larger in the great fl atlands of Prus sia and Rus sia, in the pathway of steppeland hordes. Big armies can oft en conduct an eff ective defense, but there is the question of paying to feed, train, and equip them. Widespread fear of violence and the demand for protection gave birth to the modern nationstate with territorial control, fi rst in the form of the absolutist state. 



This recognition of the importance of peasant demand for protection differs from the Marxist suggestion that the landed nobility needed an absolutist state to fi x their status against the onslaught of the proto- industrial bourgeoisie. Nor were undefended “church lands” available for confi scation in Japan because monasteries tended to be armed to the hilt. In Japan, the unifi ers robbed their competitors of their lands militarily, whereupon they divided the  lands among their men. In any case, the practice of rewarding loyal warriors with land taken from the vanquished had occurred so many times during Japan’s medieval period that by the mid- fi ft eenth century most of the elite were of shallow vintage. Not that this situation was unique to Japan; the Romans did the same thing following Sulla’s reforms and aft er Octavius’s victories. Th e “proscriptions” are remembered mostly for legal murders, but note that they also served to take lands away from rich opponents and confer them on allies. In overwhelmingly rural Eastern Eu rope, Rus sian and Prus sian “absolutism” seems hardly to have been a response to a threatening rise of the middle class. Peasant fear of violence from marauders is a more consistent theme that runs through all of these cases. Th is is not to deny that peasants were oft en miserable, on the verge of starvation, and hardly able to pay heavier taxes for larger armies. But in their desperation, they chose among the available poisons. 




Their choices had significant consequences for the kinds of states that would subsequently emerge. Conclusions Widespread territorial vulnerability and fear of violence created the territorial state. Th is book tells that story as it unfolded in medieval and early modern Japan, but it follows a general logic that holds in Eu rope and elsewhere. Th ere is some irony to the way vulnerability paved the way for strong, hierarchical governments with extensive coercive powers over the subject population. At least in the short run, mobilization for war could have increased the bargaining leverage of the populace whose resources were needed for war. When foot soldiers are militarily valuable, peasants may profi tably refuse to fi ght unless the leader is willing to off er better terms of exchange. History gives us a number of examples of po liti cal concessions to peasant fi ghters, including fi ft h century b.c. Athens when Cleisthenes granted the masses full participatory rights in exchange for their help in ousting the Spartan- installed oligarchy. In Republican Rome, fi ghting wars for Rome was the ticket to citizenship, fi rst for local residents and then for men of conquered lands as well. During the protracted Dutch Revolt against the Habsburg Empire (1568– 1648), ordinary citizens gained the right to participate in politics, even if the rights were substantially retracted aft er the war was won. In modern times, World War I ushered in female suff rage in most rich democracies, World War II launched the civil rights movement, and 18- year- olds gained the right to vote during the Vietnam War. Why does war bring po liti cal rights in one setting and an abdication to absolutist government in another? 



Japa nese history provides a number of clues. As the example of the ninja shows, mountain villagers had little use for an absolutist ruler when they could live out their lives without a strong protector. In the lowlands, the bidding among nobles for peasant support did in fact raise many farmers through the ranks of warrior status to become lords in their own right. But armies consisted of small bands of cavalry, and competing nobles typically could not aff ord to put entire villages in arms. Compared to classical Greece, which was invaded by the ferocious Persian army, violence in Japan escalated only slowly. We can only speculate whether, had the Mongols landed in full force, the Japa nese people might also have won po liti cal concessions in exchange for emergency mobilization. Th e piecemeal intensifi cation of violence in Japan worked against broader mobilizational concessions. Once widespread destruction reached an intolerable threshold, ordinary people were willing to pay for large armies and a leader strong enough to lead them. 



Territorial consolidation ended competition among aspiring generals, without which peasant bargaining was attenuated. In the chapters that follow, historical experts sift through archival materials to provide a close look at the choices made by lords and peasants throughout the medieval period and across diff erent parts of Japan. In Chapter 2, Karl Friday reminds us that the samurai came into being from within the imperial system and served the system obediently for over 300 years. Although warriors possessed a monopoly over the instruments of armed force, and indeed functioned as the court’s protectors and administrators in the provinces, the warrior families were too divided among themselves, even under the Kamakura shogunate, to be a viable alternative to court- based rule and legitimacy. When the court collapsed into civil war between the Northern and Southern Courts in 1333– 1335, the Ashikaga shogunate stepped into the breech. But the power of the Ashikaga shogunate rested on the acquiescence of local military lords who claimed growing powers for themselves at the expense of centralized rule, setting the stage for eventual civil war. Chapter 3 by Susumu Ike describes the range of relationships between lord and retainer during the decentralized years of medieval Japan, aft er the decline of the imperial authority and before unifi cation under Oda Nobunaga. Competition among military leaders may have increased the bargaining leverage of peasants who were needed to feed the soldiers or to join armies as soldiers. But navigating relationships among competing nobles was treacherous business because backing a loser could mean the loss of land and death. Th e civil war that broke out in 1437 among lords competing for territory forced local villagers to make painful choices, sometimes in favor of retainers against their masters (gekokujo), when the retainer was thought to be better able to lead armies to victory.



 In Chapter 4, Tsuguharu Inaba describes the misery of peasant life in wartime and explains the relief with which peasants greeted Oda Nobunaga’s policy of dividing labor between farmers and warriors. Rather than being distressed to have their swords confi scated, many farmers greeted with relief the new leader’s ambition to curb the fi ghting clans. Th roughout these years, Inaba emphasizes, farmers retained their local village councils in which they made their collective decisions to support the emerging centralized regime. Chapter 5 by Carol Tsang recounts the tenacity with which some religious organizations, such as the Honganji Temple in Osaka, resisted Oda Nobunaga’s pell- mell push toward territorial consolidation. Th e Honganji Temple’s thousands of followers in villages across a sizable area in today’s Ishikawa prefecture created a structure of local self- rule and po liti cal order to match that provided by local military leaders. Th e villagers who joined in this religious league had little need for the protection off ered by secular lords because they were well armed and well disciplined. Th eir belief that fi delity to their cause would be awarded in the aft erlife empowered them to fi ght fearlessly. But in the end, this league and others like it throughout central Japan were steamrolled by Nobunaga’s and Hideyoshi’s even more powerful military machines. Lacking the economies of scale that the centralizers had developed, the most passionately in de pen dent local re sis tance movements were swept aside. In Chapter 6, Pierre Souyri writes of the farmer- warriors from the mountain valleys of Iga and Koga near Kyoto who tenaciously resisted Oda Nobunaga’s ambition for territorial consolidation. Had these valleys been clustered more closely together rather than spread out along the spine of Honshu, one wonders whether a ninja league might not have prevailed as their counterparts did in Switzerland, with vastly diff erent consequences for Japa nese po liti cal history. 



An alternative route to domestic tranquility, apart from the militarily imposed peace of an absolutist ruler, might have entailed the sorts of treaties that the Swiss Alpine regions concluded with the lowland cantons. In Chapter 7, Th omas Conlan addresses the question of how the more successful military lords managed to consolidate territory. Conlan documents the or gan i za tion al prowess of military leaders of regional domains. Among the many military governors or shugo, the most successful became domain lords or daimyō. For their spectacular success in achieving territorial consolidation, Conlon credits these generals’ methodical approach to gaining public ac cep tance, raising revenues, and building armies, rather than the guns with which they equipped their men. 



In Japan, as in modern Eu rope, state building emerged out of the mayhem of warfare. But societal need for order is, by itself, no explanation for how a state capable of providing security materialized in either place. Th e variation within Japan over time and place suggests a mechanism for its emergence that was at work in Eu rope as well. Farmers in the pathway of armies became desperate for protection, even at the cost of their money and freedom. Although less vulnerable populations in hills or islands resisted territorial incorporation that would burden them with taxes to pay for the security of others, farmers on the fertile plains generated enough money and military might to break the re sis tance of these natural fortresses. In Japan, the entire archipelago became as one.




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John Ferejohn, Frances Rosenbluth






الجمعة، 15 نوفمبر 2024

Download PDF | Sebastian R. Prange - Monsoon Islam_ Trade and Faith on the Medieval Malabar Coast-Cambridge University Press (2018).

Download PDF | Sebastian R. Prange - Monsoon Islam_ Trade and Faith on the Medieval Malabar Coast-Cambridge University Press (2018).

362 Pages 




Monsoon Islam 

Trade and Faith on the Medieval Malabar Coast Between the twelfth and sixteenth centuries, a distinct form of Islamic thought and practice developed among Muslim trading communities of the Indian Ocean. Sebastian Prange argues that this “Monsoon Islam” was shaped by merchants not sultans, forged by commercial imperatives rather than in battle, and defined by the reality of Muslims living within non-Muslim societies. Focusing on India’s Malabar Coast, the muchfabled “land of pepper”, Prange provides a case study of how Monsoon Islam developed in response to concrete economic, socio-religious, and political challenges. 







Because communities of Muslim merchants across the Indian Ocean were part of shared commercial, scholarly, and political networks, developments on the Malabar Coast illustrate a broader, trans-oceanic history of the evolution of Islam across monsoon Asia. This history is told through four spaces that are examined in their physical manifestations as well as symbolic meanings: the Port, the Mosque, the Palace, and the Sea.



 Sebastian R. Prange is Assistant Professor of History at the University of British Columbia.





Introduction 

The First Indian Muslim I am the space where I am. – Noël Arnaud, L’état d’ébauche (1950) At the turn of the seventh century, a powerful South Indian king beheld an extraordinary astronomical event. Gazing at the stars sparkling above the Arabian Sea one night, he saw the moon divide into two halves, before it once again merged back into its customary shape. The awestruck king was Cheraman Perumal, the Hindu sovereign of the Chera dynasty, one of the three ancient Tamil royal houses that ruled over southern India. His realm was the westernmost portion of the Tamilakam, a region known to foreigners as Malabar or simply “the land of pepper”; its limits correspond more or less to those of the present-day Indian state of Kerala (which takes it names from the Chera dynasty). 




Upon witnessing this unwonted celestial occurrence, Cheraman Perumal summoned his Hindu astronomers, who although competent enough to accurately forecast eclipses, could not account for this unprecedented phenomenon. Later that night, however, it was revealed to the king in a dream that what he had seen in the night sky had been a miracle, performed by a man called Muhammad from a land across the sea. Some years later, a group of Jewish and Christian traders disembarked on the Malabar Coast. They had come for the same reason that drew most travellers to this part of India: to purchase black pepper, the most important ingredient in the Indian Ocean spice trade, on which Malabar enjoyed a near-monopoly. Granted a royal audience, these traders told the king about an agitator back in Arabia, a man called Muḥammad ibn ‘Abd-Allāh who claimed to be a prophet and was said to have employed magic to split the moon. A  few years later still, a group of Muslim pilgrims arrived at the Chera court on their way to Sri Lanka, where they intended to visit the venerated site of Adam’s Peak. The king quizzed these Muslims about their pilgrimage, but above all about their faith and its prophet. 






They related to him the miracle of the splitting of the moon, as recorded in sūrah al-Qamar (“The Moon”) of the Quran. The king requested that the pilgrims return to his court on their homeward journey. When they did so, he divided his realm among his ministers before joining the Muslims on their voyage back to Arabia. There, Cheraman Perumal was converted to Islam at the hands of the Prophet himself, becoming the first Indian Muslim. After a few years in Arabia, the convert king decided to return to his native land, but died on the Omani coast before he could set sail for India. Just before his death, however, he instructed a group of Arab Muslims in whose company he was travelling to proceed to Malabar regardless, and to propagate his new faith there. It was this group of Arabs who first introduced Islam to the Indian subcontinent.









Monsoon Islam This apocryphal account of the South Indian ruler Cheraman Perumal epitomizes a particular trajectory of Islamic history as it intersects with the history of the Indian Ocean. The story-world of the legend – made up of rulers, traders, holy men, and pilgrims who are part of the transoceanic exchange of people, ideas, and patronage – is not invented of whole cloth but consistent with the way in which historians have come to understand the trading world of maritime Asia. In recent years, a growing number of studies has shifted our focus onto the languages, cultural content, political projects, and personal ambitions that traversed the ocean alongside trade. During the medieval period, the most momentous of these non-material transfers was the spread of Islam along the shores of monsoon Asia.1 







As Muslim merchants established communities in all the flourishing port cities of the Indian Ocean, Islamic beliefs and practices were carried across vast distances and came into contact with diverse societies on a scale comparable only to the initial expansion of the caliphate during the seventh century. This movement along the maritime trade routes, however, was not predicated on military conquest, political hegemony, or imperial design:  the expansion of Muslim communities  across monsoon Asia between the twelfth and sixteenth centuries took place haphazardly, incidental to the development of Muslim trade networks. 








The principal agents in this extension of the medieval Muslim world were not sultans, soldiers, or scholars but ordinary, humdrum traders whose main objective was not to spread their faith but to turn a profit. It is the central contention of this book that this process was fundamentally shaped by the interaction of these ordinary Muslims  – ordinary in the sense in that they were neither representatives of state power nor recognized religious authorities  – with non-Muslim societies.2 This dynamic informed the development of Islamic norms and practices even in those regions of the Indian Ocean that eventually came under Muslim rule and that over time developed into majority Muslim societies, such as the Swahili Coast, the Maldives, or Aceh. Islam was never a stable, monolithic entity, and in places across monsoon Asia, far from Arabia, local receptions, understandings, and practices were crucial to its historical development. 








The communities that grew out of the settlement of Muslim traders in port cities across maritime Asia have proved long-lasting:  every major historic port-of-trade in the Indian Ocean has a Muslim community that in some way traces its history back to these premodern exchanges. The effects of the interaction between local societies and Islam, however, have differed widely. Some regions, such as East Africa or peninsular Southeast Asia, have been profoundly shaped by their interaction with Islamic beliefs, law, and institutions, while others such as southern India or southern China to a much lesser degree. 







This book is a study of both these dynamics: the spread of Islam through the agency of Muslim merchants on the one hand, and the effects on Islam of their interaction with non-Muslim societies across the medieval Indian Ocean world on the other. In other words, it seeks to both look outwards, towards the movements of Muslim communities in space and time, as well as inwards, to ask how these communities understood and responded to changes in their social and political environments. The core argument is that during this period, a particular form of Islamic thought and practice emerged from these twin processes. This Monsoon Islam of the Indian Ocean was shaped by merchants not sultans, forged by commercial imperatives rather than in battle, and defined by the reality of Muslims living within non-Muslim societies. 











Muslims in the trading ports of monsoon Asia observed the principal acts of their faith, the so-called pillars of Islam (arkān al-dīn), in the same manner as Muslims everywhere: they professed their belief in the one god with Muhammad as his messenger, performed the obligatory prayers, gave alms, fasted during the holy month, and strove to perform the pilgrimage to Mecca. In other ways, however, they diverged. For example, they produced new interpretations of Islamic law designed to meet the specific needs of their heterogeneous communities; many prayed in buildings that looked like Hindu temples, and some worshipped saints outside of the Islamic tradition; some practised matrilineality contrary to the otherwise staunchly agnatic Islamic tradition; they professed new understandings of religiously sanctioned warfare (jihād), and to that end even re-defined what constitutes the “Muslim world” (dār al-Islām). 







This apparent tension between orthopraxy and innovation reflects the broader challenge of reconciling Islam as an analytical category with Islam as a historical phenomenon. As Shahab Ahmed points out, any meaningful conceptualization “must come to terms with – indeed, be coherent with  – the capaciousness, complexity, and, often, outright contradiction that obtains within the historical phenomenon that has proceeded from the human engagement with the idea and reality” of the Islamic faith.3 It is this human, historical engagement – in the form of religious thought, social practice, commercial connection, and political allegiance  – that this book connotes as Monsoon Islam. 








To be sure, Monsoon Islam is by no means a discrete school of Islamic philosophy: it is an etic category that does not represent a deliberate or coherent set of doctrines. Instead, it describes how Islam was realized by Muslims in the context of the trading world of the premodern Indian Ocean; not as abstract principles but in specific acts, attitudes, and ideas that responded to concrete historical situations and challenges. Importantly, these acts, attitudes, and ideas, however contradictory they may appear at times, were made sense of and articulated in terms of Islamic precept, history, and law – in other words, they were understood by these Muslims as Islam. 4 Monsoon Islam developed outside of the traditional Islamic heartlands and independent of the caliphate and its successor states, on the coastlines and in the trade emporia of the Indian Ocean. The term is emphatically not meant to suggest that this trajectory of Islamic history was defined by the monsoon as a climatic phenomenon, that somehow the weather patterns in regions affected by the Asian monsoon account for the prevalence of certain religious beliefs and attitudes there. 







Nor is it intended as a rebuttal to the kind of nineteenth-century orientalism that identified Islam as the natural religion of the desert:  “Le désert est monothéiste”, in the words of Ernest Renan, “[s]ublime dans son immense uniformité”.5 Instead, the term summons the “deep structure element” underlying Indian Ocean trade during the age of sail: the system of seasonally opposing trade winds known as the monsoons.6 In his survey of global maritime history, Felipe Fernández-Armesto posits ebulliently that compared to the diktat of fixed wind systems, other motors of history, be they culture, politics, or economics, pale in significance: “In most of our explanations of what happened in history, there is too much hot air and not enough wind”.7 









On account of the persistent maritime corridors created by its wind system, Monsoon Asia formed “a natural space that favoured the longdistance movement of people, commodities, languages and ideas”.8 The monsoons determined when ships could travel eastwards or westwards, where merchants settled, and how far their commercial networks extended. In the words of Michael Pearson, the doyen of Indian Ocean studies: “The implications of the monsoons are endless”.9 In the evolution of Islam across maritime Asia, the monsoons enabled and structured the exchanges and interactions that shaped how Islam came to be understood, communicated, and applied by Muslims living on the different coasts it connected. It is in this sense, as a link that fostered interaction, exchange, and relationships across the vast distances of the ocean, that the term monsoon is used in this book.






 The world of Monsoon Islam was first and foremost a commercial realm, and many of its chief characteristics were defined by the imperatives of doing business in settings that were unfamiliar (in the sense of kinship ties), foreign (in the sense of political boundaries), and alien (in the sense of cultural difference). Embedded within these complex trade relations across the ocean were many other forms of exchange: of texts, for instance, but most importantly of people with their beliefs, customs, connections, and rivalries. At its core, Monsoon Islam was the product of the tension between the distant and the local, between these Muslims’ role in far-flung trading networks and an Islamic cosmopolis on the one hand and, on the other, their need to negotiate the specific social, economic, and political conditions of particular trading locations. Muslim trading communities were interlinked not only by mutual commerce but also by the need for religious and political institutions that could address the particular needs of these far-flung diasporic settlements. 









Many of these institutions continue to define the character and structures of Islam across monsoon Asia. One example of this is Islamic law, which is usually seen as the defining hallmark of the influence that Arabic high culture had on the religion. But Muslims in maritime Asia found themselves confronted by issues that were not addressed in the classical legal texts of Islam; so Muslim judges and legists in India and elsewhere began to issue their own legal opinions (Ar., fatāwā) to address the specific problems faced by Muslims living in non-Muslim societies, a context that was simply not envisaged by the standard treatises. That there was a real need for such legal commentaries that addressed the everyday matters of social life within a non-Islamic society – that is, in a diaspora setting – is evident from the fact that these texts were almost immediately taken up by other Muslim communities across the Indian Ocean which faced the same situation. For example, a commentary on Islamic law composed in South India was quickly adopted in Java; in fact, in a legacy of these trans-oceanic, inter-diasporic exchanges, this same legal text continues to be used by Muslim judges in Indonesia even today.10 








This example highlights that the spread of Islam across the Indian Ocean was not a unilateral transfer of a stable, fully formed prototype into new settings. To translate is to create anew: Monsoon Islam is the product of the creative, cumulative effort to translate Islam (as a set of religious beliefs, legal norms, and social practices) into new settings. This effort was rooted in the precepts of a universalist faith and its cosmopolitan idiom, but needed to be adapted and justified in ways that were intelligible and acceptable locally. The legend of Cheraman Perumal, the convert king, is another example of this creative effort to bridge the divide between the global and the local, to designate a place for Islam within the social and political landscape of medieval South India. Monsoon Islam, then, offers a framework for conceptualizing a particular trajectory of Islamic history, one which evolved in the context of trade, accommodation, and the blending of practices and traditions. Arguably, it is this trajectory that has defined the lived reality of the majority of Muslims worldwide, even though it rarely figures in popular images of, or discourses about, Islam today. The history and legacy of this Monsoon Islam is the subject of this book.












Historiography This study is not the first to explore this history but part of an ongoing effort to decouple Islamic history from Middle Eastern studies. The primary aim of Marshall Hodgson’s monumental The Venture of Islam is to historicize Islam, for example by focusing on culture rather than the traditional mainstay of Islamic studies, law.11 Hodgson coined the term Islamicate to describe cultural elements that were not directly religious in nature but influenced by (and influential on) the historical development of Islam. 







This led him to pay much greater attention to the development of Islamic civilization outside of its Arab heartland, in places such as India which he regarded as primary sites of religious innovation in the post-caliphate era.12 By tracing the development of Islamicate civilization outside of legal texts and beyond the boundaries of the old caliphate, The Venture of Islam offers a history of Islam that is not a narrative of the dissemination (or dilution) of an authentic (but increasingly corrupted) Islam steeped in Arabic high culture but rather the story of Muslims’ interaction with a much wider, and much more heterogeneous, world. A central strand of Hodgson’s work is the interactive nature of commerce, politics, and cultural change in the expansion of Islam across the Afro-Eurasian oecumene. Hodgson draws particular attention to the special role played by what he calls the commercial community in the expansion of Islam along the Indian Ocean littoral. 







As a result of this mercantile influence on the spread and development of the religion there, “Islamdom in the westerly coasts of the Indian Ocean formed a political and intellectual world of its own”, a world in which “the focus of power lay in the Muslim communities of the many coastal towns”.13 From India, the “interregional citied commercial nexus” carried this strand of Islam from the western Indian Ocean to Southeast Asia, which came to be tied into oecumene. Across these regions, Islamic law developed in relative independence from the traditional centres of Islamic scholarship of the period.14 It is in this cultural and commercial oecumene that Shahab Ahmed seeks the answer to the question posed in the title of his provocative book What is Islam? Like Hodgson, Ahmed looks east, to a vast swath of territory spanning from south-eastern Europe to South Asia, what he terms the “Balkans-to-Bengal complex” that is home to the majority of Muslims today: The Balkans-to-Bengal complex represents the most geographically, demographically and temporally extensive instance of a highly-articulated shared paradigm of life and thought in the history of Muslims – it is demographically, spatially, and temporally, an (if not the) historically major paradigm of Islam.15 








In focusing on the historical development of Islam in this region, Ahmed counters a scholarly tradition that has deemed it insufficiently central or authentic to be at the heart of normative discussions about Islam. Acknowledging and studying Islam as a historical and human phenomenon, rather than as divine revelation or as a closed system of theological prescription, means having to grapple with the peoples and societies that have embraced it, claimed it, and shaped it. This approach is shared by Falloum Ngom, whose Muslims beyond the Arab World explores the development of Islam through West African literary traditions to show that the faith must be seen as “a set of processes and practices, texts and interpretations” that were adapted to the culturally specific ways of people around the globe.16 If the study of Islam is ultimately the study of Muslims, then both the Balkans-to-Bengal region and sub-Saharan Africa form essential parts of what Islam is; this book argues that the same holds true for the world of Monsoon Islam.









 It is no coincidence that Hodgson’s notion of Islamicate culture was taken up most eagerly, and most productively, by historians of India, who were seeking to describe the merger of Islamic, Persianate, and Indic culture that characterized the sultanates of North India and the Deccan.17 Studies of paintings, architecture, poetry, courtly culture, political thought, military organization, medicine, and many other facets of South Asian history have been analysed through the lens of an IndoIslamic pattern of society and culture.18 The focal point of these studies tends to fall on North India, and especially the Mughal dynasty, as the centre of gravity of a Persianate realm of Indo-Islam. André Wink, in his magisterial study of the long-term evolution of this Indo-Islamic world, deviates from this pattern by firmly situating Indo-Islam against the history of the Indian Ocean, a sphere that otherwise tends to be regarded as peripheral to its development: In an overview of the entire period of Islamic expansion and hegemony in the East one fact stands out: the growth and development of a world-economy in and around the Indian Ocean – with India at its centre and the Middle East and China as its two dynamic poles – was effected by continued economic, social and cultural integration into ever wider and more complex patterns under the aegis of Islam. In a word, Islamization here stands for integration.19 Wink’s emphasis on the Indian Ocean, and especially on the economic connections it embodied, has been an impetus to study South Asian Islam from the perspective of seaborne connections rather than territorial empires. 








Patricia Risso’s seminal effort to trace these connections has shown that tracing the intersection of Islamic and Indian Ocean history can offer a more accurate perspective on both.20 The general agenda laid out by Risso has been taken up in a series of detailed studies that probe different trajectories of Islam in the trading world of maritime Asia. Two themes have received particular attention:  the organization of mercantile networks and the transmission of language and texts.21 Both strands of research  emphasize circulation as the defining hallmark of oceanic networks. This interest in the circulation of people, goods, and ideas, rather than their mere transmission, has produced innovative new frameworks of enquiry that have rejected the conventional parameters of national and regional histories and have upended received chronologies. For example, Engseng Ho recovers the 500-year history of an “ecumenical Islam in an oceanic world” by tracing the material, genealogical, and imaginary exchanges of a trade diaspora that spanned between Arabia, India, and Southeast Asia.22 Ronit Ricci uses the lens of translation to reveal interconnected processes of Islamization in South and Southeast Asia, arguing for the existence of an “Arabic cosmopolis” that over centuries bound together Muslims from different parts of the Indian Ocean.23







 Nile Green takes his readers to the intersection of Islam, imperialism, and industrialization to reveal colonial Bombay as a “primary city of Islam” that complicates notions of a uniform, global form of Islam centred on the Middle East.24 And Seema Alavi draws on the “easy mingling” of seafaring cultures with the religious, economic, and political networks in Indian port cities as an expression of the cosmopolitanism of South Asian Islam in the nineteenth century.25 What all these studies share is an understanding of Islam that is not predicated on an Arabian identity and that emphasizes the role of maritime networks in the formation of a variegated but interconnected Islamic world across monsoon Asia. The concept of Monsoon Islam is, of course, only as useful as the explanatory work it helps to do. It is presented here not as a dichotomy of essentialized geographies – the harsh and forbidding desert versus the fluid and encompassing ocean – nor as a simple binary between orthodoxy and diversity. Instead, it is intended to capture the institutional and practical consequences of the interaction of Islamic beliefs and norms with other beliefs and norms in the absence of a dominant Islamic political or social order. Out of this type of interaction emerged over time a different and distinct historical trajectory of Islam, one that contrasts with the historical experiences of Arabia, Persia, and North India but that was commonplace all across the medieval trading world of the Indian Ocean: an Islam that was shaped by the priorities and preferences of ordinary Muslim merchants as they traded and settled along the coastlines of monsoon Asia. Placing trans-cultural interaction at the core of Monsoon Islam is not to say that this interaction was always perforce peaceful. 









The notion of the medieval Indian Ocean as a peaceful, cosmopolitan trading world unaffected by the kind of systematic violence that is a hallmark of Europe’s maritime history has come under increasing scrutiny, and rightly so.26 Just like the Mediterranean Sea, the Indian Ocean too was marked by piracy, privateering, and military contests over ports, routes, and maritime sovereignty. At some moments, as Chapter 2 will show, actors explicitly conceived of such violence in terms of Islam, by imbuing it with religious meaning and authority; in many other instances, though, violence was simply part of the general milieu of maritime trade, an inescapable constituent of the commercial and political milieu in which Muslim merchants operated.27 Monsoon Islam was not at odds with but a part of this interwoven history of rivalry, exploitation, and conflict. The phenomenon that the concept of Monsoon Islam seeks to describe is well enough documented to allow for confidence in its fidelity: recent studies on specific aspects of trans-oceanic exchanges, such as pilgrimage for example, have created the impression of an interwoven network of commercial, familial, religious, and political ties among Muslim trading diasporas across maritime Asia.28 








On the foundation of its own comprehensive case study of the Malabar Coast, this book argues that understanding these various exchanges through the conceptual lens of Monsoon Islam makes these distinct network relationships legible as part of a broader, interrelated historical development. In doing so, this book responds to a call to move beyond static taxonomies by tracing alternative geographies demarcated by the mobilities of historical  actors.29 Akin to Sheldon Pollock’s notion of a “Sanskrit cosmopolis” as a world of Indic literary and political culture that linked together South and Southeast Asia during the first millennium of the Common Era, the concept of Monsoon Islam can integrate different aspects of medieval Indian Ocean history into a broader narrative.30 Be it the invocation of a Persian sultan in Friday prayers on the Indian coast, East African scholars giving lessons in Islamic law to South Asian students in Mecca, or mosques in Sumatra that look like South Indian temples, Monsoon Islam is the bigger picture that emerges from these finer brushstrokes. 









Setting: The Land of Pepper This book exemplifies the world of Monsoon Islam primarily through a case study of India’s Malabar Coast, a historic region that largely coincides with the modern Indian state of Kerala. Much of the history of this region revolves around its role as the primary producer of black pepper (Piper nigrum, Linn.). Between the months of June and September, the southwest monsoon (Malayal., Edavapathi) discharges a seemingly inexhaustible amount of rainfall over Kerala’s coastal plain and the slopes of the Western Ghats, which in the northern parts can easily exceed two metres in the span of just a few weeks. As a result, Kerala’s landscape is luxuriantly lush, providing, especially in the uplands, ideal conditions for the cultivation not only of the “king of spices”, pepper, but also of cardamom, cloves, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and other spices. In this book, the Malabar Coast is defined in its original sense, as the narrow sliver of land between the Arabian Sea and the Western Ghats where pepper is grown. Geographically, this approximately encompasses the area between the ports of Barkur in the north and Kollam in the south.31 This usage recommends itself for three reasons. 








First, and most importantly, it largely conforms to how the term Malabar is used in the sources.32 Second, delineating the region by pepper cultivation reflects its defining characteristic in the eyes of the Muslim merchants who are the main protagonists of this book. And lastly, even though the word Malabar does not correspond to local Malayali usage it serves to encompass the region’s different polities. From the early twelfth century, if not earlier, the Coast was politically divided among a number of small principalities. These states were tied to one another in shifting political configurations as well as through shared religious and economic bonds. This nexus has been somewhat obscured in the historiography, which is characterized by studies of individual port cities or kingdoms at the expense of a broader, regional perspective. These interconnections are vital, however, to understanding the shifting economic activities and political alliances of Muslim trading groups on the Coast. Located at the southwesternmost limit of the Indian subcontinent and sheltered behind the towering mountain range of the Western Ghats, Malabar was peripheral to the rise and fall of India’s great empires. The region’s relative isolation from territorial India contrasts vividly with its orientation towards the sea. 









Due to its central location within the Indian Ocean, it was a natural transhipment point for long-range monsoon navigation. Crucially, Malabar was also the primary supplier of black pepper, the single most important commodity of the Indian Ocean spice trade. The Malabar Coast was absolutely pivotal to the maritime trading world of monsoon Asia since ancient times. Situating Malabar firmly within an Indian Ocean context is not to detract from the region’s role within Indian history: it was indisputably part of the nexus of South Indian history as is evident from its culture, religion, and political structure. Notwithstanding, during the period  considered in this study, the twelfth to sixteenth centuries, the region developed idiosyncratically in a number of important aspects. From the twelfth century onwards, Malabar was no longer ruled by any of the ancient Tamil dynasties of South India. It was neither conquered by the expansionist Muslim dynasties that established themselves in North India and the Deccan, nor was it incorporated into the South Indian Hindu empires with which they stood in competition.33 









Rather, from the twelfth century onwards, Malabar was characterized by its political fragmentation into a number of competing states. In a direct reflection of the region’s orientation towards the sea, the most powerful of these polities were not primarily based on agrarian holdings but centred on port cities. Partly as a result of this political context, the region’s dominant religion, Hinduism developed along an idiosyncratic path that diverged from other parts of India, for example in terms of the role of temple establishments, notions of sacred kingship, or social practices of caste. Islam, too, developed differently on the Malabar Coast than elsewhere on the subcontinent. In all likelihood, Islam in India began on the Malabar Coast.34 The Muslim faith arrived there not in the course of conquest but as a consequence of trade. And it did not reach the region after a centuries-long process of mediation and acculturation that defines the IndoPersian tradition, but in the form of beliefs, norms, and practices carried by Muslim merchants hailing from all different parts of the Indian Ocean trading world. Although maritime commerce was closely incorporated into the political structures of Malabar’s coastal states, it was overwhelmingly dominated by expatriate mercantile groups; in the period under study, Muslims came to dominate the region’s all-important spice trade. In addition to the difference in agency in the introduction of Islam, Malabar also differs from the main strand of Indo-Islamic history in terms of both language (with Arabic, rather than Persian, as the lingua franca of Muslim elites) and religious affiliation (with the Shāfiʿī school of Islamic law most prominent, as opposed to the Ḥanafī orientation of India’s Turkic dynasties). While the Malabar Coast was an outlier from the vantage point of IndoIslam, it was very much representative of the wider world of Monsoon Islam. Malabar was a central hub for Muslim maritime networks, and Malabari Muslims set important impulses for Muslim communities in port cities right across the Indian Ocean. The focus of studies of Malabar’s Muslims, however, has been less on these trans-oceanic networks than on their conflict with the Portuguese. 









The arrival of Vasco da Gama on the Malabar Coast in 1498 marked the beginning of a century of confrontation between Europeans and Muslims in this region. A  seminal study by Stephen Dale describes how this resulted in the development of an idiosyncratic Islamic community “whose most prominent cultural characteristic was religious militancy”.35 Studies by scholars such as Geneviève Bouchon, K.K.N. Kurup, Pius Malekandathil, or Binu John Mailaparambil have probed the European records to reconstruct Muslims’ often conflictual, though at times also cooperative, relationship with Europeans on the Malabar Coast across the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.36 This book offers a new context to that history by, first, offering an understanding of how Muslim networks were constituted, both on the Coast and within the wider Indian Ocean world, and, second, by tracing their continuities through the sixteenth century.












 This serves to qualify the impact of the Portuguese on Muslim networks and to highlight the continued, and in many cases even strengthened, bonds between Malabar and Muslim settlements in other parts of monsoon Asia. Muslims found themselves confronted by hostile European powers not only in South India but also in many other parts of the Indian Ocean, from East Africa to Southeast Asia.37 Without question, the world of Monsoon Islam underwent profound shifts over the course of the sixteenth century; these shifts, however, played out in an interconnected way across the different regions. In other words, while the character and spatial configuration of Monsoon Islam changed, it did so as part of a recognizably interrelated, trans-oceanic process. In spite of Portuguese efforts to isolate and disperse Malabar’s Muslim communities, even in the sixteenth century the history of Islam on the Malabar Coast remains part of a broader history of Islam in the Indian Ocean. 











book focuses primarily on the port city of Calicut (Kozhikode). From the fourteenth century onwards, Calicut was the most important entrepôt in the region. By the time of Vasco da Gama’s arrival, its rulers were on course towards achieving hegemony over all the rival pepper ports on the Coast. Over the following century, Calicut became the focal point of resistance against the Portuguese and a fulcrum of Muslim commercial, political, military, and religious activity. Despite this key role that Calicut played not only in South Indian but also wider Indian Ocean history, there is no general monograph on this port.38 On the basis of European sources, the other two major ports on the Coast, Cochin and Cannanore, are both subject of book-length studies; because Calicut did not become a node of European rule, its history is less accessible.39 By making Calicut its central focus, this book seeks to help redress this lacuna. 







 





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