The Egalitarian Principle of “Qist” as Lived Ethic: Towards a Liberational Tafsir

Abstract

The Qur’anic term and principle of “qist”—generally defined as fairness, equity, and giving each his/her due share—occurs twenty-two times and forms a particular intentional discourse against social and economic privilege and against power in its various dimensions. These occurrences, their contexts, and fields of meaning demonstrate its distinctive place within the Qur’anic moral worldview, at the nexus between private virtue ethics and collective praxis. Qist is presented not merely as an abstract ideal, but as a specific, concrete social and economic goal for the marginalized and disempowered of any community. Especially in the domains of gender relations, poverty conditions, and authorial power, the divine injunction for applying equality in lived contexts becomes a call for liberation from “zulm” (injustice) and “taghut” (false deities). Can the examination of this concept and its affiliates form the basis for a scriptural theorization on an Islamic theology of social and economic justice, of resistance to tyranny and unjust constructions of privilege and superiority? Towards an answer to this inquiry, one can argue that qist directs attention to the practical ways of applying the overarching, comprehensive value of shari’ah, al-‘adl (justice), as well as to its defining features of collectivity and distributiveness.

1. Introduction

Any call that makes people like poverty, or be content with low living conditions, or convince them of humiliation in life, or of patience and acceptance of what’s less than due right and of the minimum is an indecent/immoral call, intended to enable social injustice and drain the struggling masses in the service of one or a few individuals. And before all that, it is a lie imposed upon Islam and a slander against God.

—Sheikh Muhammad al-Ghazali (1917–1996), Al-Islam al-muftara ‘alayhi (Al-Ghazali [1950] 2005, p. 55)

The Qur’anic term and principle of qist—generally defined as fairness, equity, and giving each his/her due share—occurs twenty-two times and forms a particular intentional discourse against social and economic privilege and against power in its various dimensions. These occurrences, their contexts, and fields of meaning demonstrate its distinctive place, within the Qur’anic moral worldview, at the nexus between private virtue ethics and collective praxis. Qist is presented not merely as an abstract ideal, but as a specific, concrete social and economic goal for the marginalized and disempowered of any community. Especially in the domains of gender relations, poverty conditions, and authorial power, the divine injunction for applying equality in lived contexts becomes a call for liberation from zulm (injustice) and taghut (false deities). Can the examination of this concept and its affiliates form the basis for a scriptural theorization on an Islamic theology of social and economic justice, of resistance to tyranny and unjust constructions of privilege and superiority? Towards an answer to this inquiry, one can argue that qist directs attention to the practical ways of applying the overarching, comprehensive value of shari’ah, al-‘adl (justice), as well as to its defining features of collectivity and distributiveness.

This paper intends to conduct a discourse analysis of this matrix of associated Qur’anic themes—for example, the mizan (scale, balance), tatfif (restricting due rights), istikbar (the practice of power), and istid’af (disempowerment)—and to examine sample classical and modern tafsir literature to gauge the extent of the understanding of qist as a public ethos, directly related to lived realities of inequalities and oppression. The paper will mostly employ the interpretive method of a ‘close reading’ of various relevant Qur’anic verses to illustrate articulations of a proposed ‘liberational’ tafsir, which can go beyond the limited domain of private, individual virtues and morality. Will new emphasis, the construction of a new interpretive discourse, and the “reformulation of better questions” of the Revelation, in the words of Abdulaziz Sachedina, which are more relevant to our living community in the present help in solidifying the field of Islamic liberation theology? (Sachedina 2005)

The focus on qist is bound to have a significant hermeneutical value for ILT as the usual concentration on the concept of ‘adl (justice) tends to steer studies more towards the philosophical, metaphysical, and juridical domains. While this kind of scholarly inquiry is definitely valuable, it may not be sufficient in illustrating the simple down-to-earth principle of the equal and rightful distribution of resources and opportunities. Worthy of notice is the fact that the primary meaning of its verb form qassata is ‘to distribute’, which even on the direct linguistic level links it to action. Majid Khaddury, for instance, in his The Islamic Conception of Justice (1984), has presented an extensive history of the well-known Mu’tazalite–Ash’arite complex ethical debate in addition to its political contextualizing. Justice has always been considered an objective value and central purpose of shari’ah and studied as a category of analysis in the thought of modern and contemporary Muslim thinkers (Johnston 2010). Yet, a text-based analysis of the qist discourse, whether in the main source text of the Qur’an or in the tafsir literature, can direct attention to the role of Muslim interpretive communities seeking relevance and connection to their lives through a purposive hermeneutic. The late Egyptian reformist thinker and liberationist Gamal al-Banna (1920–2013) broached the subject of justice through a comparative reading of Western and Islamic thought and maintained that uniquely in Islam justice is clearly a central concept, as God made it “the virtue of all virtues” (Al-Banna 1995, p. 77). He points to the numerous Qur’anic references to the idea and commandment to justice but does not distinguish between ‘adl and qist, conflating both and equating ‘adl with haqq (truth): “According to the noble Qur’an, justice is truth applied, and truth is justice in the abstract… Both are among God’s beautiful names” (p. 98). Interestingly, al-Banna’s criticism of the Mu’tazalites is based on the fact that despite their obsession with justice and the contemporaneous need for praxis, “they did not transfer their belief and theory to lived reality and work”, and “similar to the Greeks, engaged in philosophy for its own sake, without descending with it to the level of reality and practical life” (p. 103). That is why a close semantic and discursive analysis of qist in particular can contribute to enriching the hermeneutical discussion and application of ILT.

Engaging the existing tafsir tradition is one aspect of this process that allows us to assess and learn about past understandings and perspectives, then generate more articulations of the issue. Despite the gaps, silences, or possible contradictions in certain areas, tafsir views and insights remain beneficial and are a necessary starting point in any inquiry. Abdelaziz Sachedina explains aptly the significance of this interactive intellectual and hermeneutical endeavor vis-a-vis the exegetical tradition:

It is important…to recognize the evolving intellectual process in understanding the revelation that would enable the commentator to search for the real intention and contextual significance of the recontextualized exegesis of the past commentators. Such recognition in the evolving clarity of meanings also equips the commentator to engage in his own hermeneutics without discarding some variant readings and ensuing interpretations, which are critically and painstakingly surveyed for their historical value in as much as they reveal the true meaning of the text.

(Sachedina 2005)

Hence, reflecting and building on past exegetical views is an added value for the contemporary Muslim reader/commentator and for expanding the horizons of specific fields within Islamic studies.

For this specific presentation of understandings and explanations of qist verses, I looked at Abu Ja’far Muhammad al-Tabari’s (839–923) beginning formulations, as his is the earliest documented and full tafsir work, the style simple and straightforward, and the explanation usually aims at the most apparent of meanings, linguistically and historically. Fakhr al-Din Al-Razi (1999, d. 1209) complements this initial step by providing multiple facets or interpretive dimensions (he uses the word wujuh), digging deeper into philosophical, theological, or spiritual levels. Abu al-Qasim Mahumud bin Umar Al-Zamakhshari’s (1986, d. 1144) commentaries, however, are more concise and to the point, mostly a distillation of both Tabari’s and Razi’s views. For the purpose of this paper, these three exegetes (together or any of them) represent the pre-modern perspective, method, and style, while Muhammad al-Tahir Ibn ‘Ashour (1879–1973) and A’isha Abd al-Rahman (1913–1998) illustrate a modern interpretation, as both self-professed reformists shared a special interest in Qur’anic linguistic and rhetorical aspects and adopted a critical perspective towards the classical exegetes. Furthermore, the fact that Abd al-Rahman was a serious woman mufassirah contributing to a centuries-old male tradition of hermeneutics is important to flag here.

It will be noticed, though, that while the exegetes’ praise of justice as an unquestionable, ultimate value already exists, they don’t always distinguish in their explanations between ‘adl and qist, except linguistically. That conflation or vagueness needs to be unpacked and leads one to pose a question about why the Qur’an has two different terms for this principle or notion. Their comments on the subject are significant insights that demonstrate their acute awareness of justice as fundamental, and so can act as starting points for added nuances and levels of meaning. In this sense, the validity of engaging tafsir and its conceptual intricacies affirms its role not just in the Islamic intellectual history and tradition, but also in the formation of communal consciousness: “In the traditional Islamic world, the Quran was and is understood through the language of tafsir, and much of what Muslims believe the Quran is stating is actually what tafsir says it is”, and so it “still plays a central role in defining the religious outlook of many Muslims” (Saleh 2015, p. 1657).

However, before going into the subject of qist in the Qur’an and its commentaries, it may be worthwhile to take a quick look at previous landmark studies and foundational ideas as background and context in the following three segments.

2. Overview of Scholarship in the Field

What is the source or interpretive rationale for conceiving an Islamic paradigm of liberation theology? If liberation theology has been defined broadly as “thinking the faith in the face of oppression” (Boff and Boff 1989, p. 14), meaning seeing the oppression/liberation process in the light of faith, and has been strongly associated with a Christian framework and inception (1971, 1983), how do we identify specific Islamic ideas that can be presented as a project or trajectory pushing for emancipation from oppression and towards social justice? A number of renowned Islamic scholars, such as Asghar Ali Engineer (1990), Farid Esack (1997), and Hamid Dabashi (2008), also the early scholars, Hasan Hanafi (1935–2021) and Shabbir Akhtar (1960–2023), have offered foundational and pioneering studies of the phenomenon and addressed it directly, yet more specific and diversified research should continue to be produced in order to reach the kind of cumulative knowledge needed within Islamic studies. Additional dynamic scholarship, such as that of Shadaab Rahemtulla’s Qur’an of the Oppressed: Liberation Theology and Gender Justice in Islam (Rahemtulla 2017) and Abdennur Prado (2012), has also broached the subject with new perspectives and analyses posing Islamic liberation theology as a different way of thinking about the active role of Islam in people’s lives. In general, it could be said that the field of Islamic liberation theology is a multi-faceted work in progress that is still open and in the process of building a more cumulative tradition, unlike—maybe—the Latin American well-defined and self-conscious school.

More recently, a study of the role of historical and modern figures in Islam in fighting for the cause of justice has appeared (Baker 2022). It especially highlights two important revolutionary figures marking a historical moment of inception and another of maturation in the twentieth century, namely the Companion Abu Dharr al-Ghifari (d. 654) and the Iranian intellectual ‘Ali Shari’ati. Interestingly and significantly, the latter has written on the first as his inspiration and model for constructing an Islamic theology based on solidarity with the poor and disempowered masses. In another thematic and comprehensive study of the various forms of Qur’anic justice within their socio-historical contexts, The Qur’an and the Just Society (Harvey 2018), Ramon Harvey mainly intends to show that Islam’s major source text still provides an applicable vision and is relevant to modern life. Hence, a goal for more research in this area would be to inspire a future-looking trend that emphasizes applications and activations on the ground—that is, from theory and scholarship to movement.

3. The Difficult Role of Liberational Hermeneutics

Rooted in praxis, solidarity with the poor, socio-economic contexts, and radical change in history, liberational scriptural hermeneutics discovers the transformative, practical function and trajectory embedded in sacred texts: “The liberation theologian goes to the scriptures bearing the whole weight of the problems, sorrows, and hopes of the poor, seeking light and inspiration from the divine word. This is a new way of reading the Bible: the hermeneutics of liberation” (Boff and Boff 1989, p. 32). This revolutionary vision then would inspire the activation of the transforming energy of religious texts both on the individual and collective/social levels, offering “an interpretation that will lead to individual change (conversion) and change in history (revolution)” (Boff and Boff 1989, p. 34). In the words of Gustavo Gutierrez: “Theology must be critical reflection on humankind, on basic human principles. Only with this approach will theology be a serious discourse, aware of itself, in full possession of its conceptual elements” (Gutierrez [1971] 1988, p. 9). And it is a forward-looking reflection towards the future for the purpose of action that transforms the present. In other words, it is a whole new way of approaching theology, one that protests “against trampled human dignity, in the struggle against the plunder of the vast majority of humankind, in liberating love, and in the building of a new, just, and comradely society” (Gutierrez [1971] 1988, p. 12).

That is why there exists a typical antipathy of liberation theology to the theoretical and elitist academic aspects of textual hermeneutics that may reinforce religion’s detachment from people’s realities or merely emphasize personal piety:

When Carlos Mesters, a liberation theologian from Brazil, writes of ‘interpreting life by means of the Bible’, he encapsulates this way of doing theology. Liberation theology is not the accumulation of, or learning about, a distinctive body of distinctive information…. [It] contrasts with much of the theology that has emerged in the last two centuries, centred [sic], as it so often is, in university or seminary, with the priority placed on intellectual discourse detached from life and, increasingly, the practice of prayer and charity.

(Rowland 2007, p. 4)

However, the scriptural foundations of religious liberational thought are still needed. In fact, the task of re-visioning scriptural concepts that have been misunderstood as encouraging pacifism, complacency, and non-inquisitive acceptance of poverty conditions is a vital assistance to the liberation theology project. It requires epistemological and ethical re-orientation.

4. Guiding the People to Work for Justice

A revisiting of ‘Ali Shari’ati’s (1933–1977) thought can act as a renewed gateway as it demonstrates a powerful case of this kind of re-orientation towards constructing an Islamic theology based on decoloniality, anti-capitalism and consumerism, and a sharp critique of complacency in the name of religious piety. Shari’ati, who has been considered a major inspiration for Khomeini’s revolutionary project in the Iranian Revolution of 1978, argued for a kind of Islamic vision towards social and cultural transformation:

Religion is an amazing thing which plays contradictory roles in the life of human beings. It destroys and revitalizes, puts to sleep and awakens, enslaves and emancipates, teaches docility and revolt, etc. In short, the history of mankind is the history of the struggle of “religion against religion” and not of religion against atheism. The history of Islam itself is the story of these contradictory roles of religion among various social classes…. The logical and progressive Islam and the Islam of motion and movement, has been outmaneuvered and defeated by the deviant and decadent Islam and by the Islam of stagnation and compromise, a truly enlightened and realistic person knows that the only way to outmaneuver the latter and eradicate it from the minds and lives of people is to substitute the true, life-giving, and primordial Islam for it.

(Shari’ati 1986, p. 48)

Not only does Shari’ati tap into the action-oriented and contextual life-force dimension of Islam, but he also calls directly for a collective, revolutionary transformation: “an intellectual revolution and an Islamic renaissance, a cultural and ideological movement based on the deepest foundations of our beliefs, equipped with the richest resources that we possess” (Shari’ati 1986, p. 49). According to Shari’ati, the most dangerous and unethical group of people to fight in a Muslim society are the “hypocrites”, originally referred to by the Qur’an, as they are agents of “social stagnation and narcotizing”, and through phony piety for Allah persuades people to accept the status quo:

A hypocrite is a person who portrays the God of Islam as a phenomenon that rewards only toleration of ignorance, oppression, weakness, poverty, backwardness, and disease. In actuality, the God of Islam respects “dignity”, the Qur’an, and Islam, which is the religion of science, justice, and beauty.

(p. 36)

This remarkable paradigm shift in religious thinking and interpretation from personal piety to the collective good, from acceptance of the status quo to socio-political transformation, marks significant features of an Islamic liberation theology. Regardless of political assessments of the Iranian Revolution of 1979, its aftermath, and its developments, the view still stands that Shari’ati’s liberative thought was its major driving force and provided it with the intellectual foundations which had a huge influence on Imam Khomeini himself during the years of his exile (Algar 2001, p. 72). In this regard, Hamid Algar explains that Shari’ati’s use of “ideology” meant a program for action, not a strictly Marxist concept: “What is intended is a comprehensiveness, a totality, that does not restrict itself merely to a moral purification of the individual and the establishment of a spiritual link between the individual and God” (p. 79). Noteworthy here is that it was Imam Khomeini in 1979 on the occasion of the International Day of al-Quds and in a 1981 conference speech who first employed the Qur’anic terms of mustad’afun (literally, those who are weakened or deemed weak by others) and mustakbirun (those who make or deem themselves greater than others) as an interpretation of the oppressed/oppressor classification to be applied as a global division inclusive of all peoples and nations. There are powerful countries and regimes that are corrupt, greedy, affluent, and exploitative of other weak and poor countries. (Abd al-Kareem 2021).

Hence, for the poor and the oppressed to be supported and empowered, for the social and economic conditions that give rise to an unjust duality of the privileged vis-à-vis the marginalized to change, a theology must emphasize, in addition to the mentioned practical dimension, a value system based on justice. In other words, despite the centrality of lived reality and its actual transformations in the foundational writings of a pioneer figure like Gutierrez, he still gives importance to processes of meaning-making, re-interpretation, and re-conceptualization: at the heart of “liberative praxis” is the issue of the “very meaning of Christianity” and living “the meaning that the Word of the Lord give to the historical becoming of humankind” (Gutierrez [1971] 1988, p. 32). And towards this goal of offering a new vision of the essence of Christianity, Gutierrez attempts a re-interpretation of the basic concepts of sin and salvation, moving them from the individual spiritual and moralistic plane as a recommended “flight from the world” to the wrongful “breach of the communion of persons with each other” (Gutierrez [1971] 1988, p. 85).

5. Social Equality and Justice as Applied Liberational Qur’anic Discourse

To begin with, how does the Qur’an represent the problem of poverty and the poor? In two recent articles, Mohammed Gamal Abdelnour presents briefly diverse views and discussions in some sources of the Islamic tradition regarding the topic of which is a better quality or condition—richness or poverty. A good example of this debate can be found in Abu Hamid al-Ghazali’s ‘Ihya’ ‘ulum al-din, in which he basically takes an ethical perspective that judges the situation according to the effect and function of poverty and wealth—which state will prove to be a worldly obsession and a distraction from God’s true path (Abdelnour 2021). Apart from this “teleological” approach, Abdelnour demonstrates that the Qur’an and the Prophet’s sunna do not inherently condemn wealth in an absolute sense, as it can be a means of giving charity and helping the poor and destitute, though in later historical circumstances, Muslim scholars began to view the accumulation of wealth as a fitna (a worldly temptation) (2022). Hence, it depends on the context:

It’s the means by which people acquired wealth, as well as what they do with it matter. Whoever pursues lawful wealth with the intention of providing for himself, his dependents and improving the world by investing and spending it on what is good and beneficial to the individual and community, then how excellent wealth is for him! On the contrary, wealth in the hands of those who accumulate it for selfish purposes is a means of destruction and evil.

(Abdelnour 2022)

An analysis of the Qur’anic concept of qist (fairness, equal distribution) as the applied form of ‘adl (justice) in the social and economic spheres demonstrates a concrete and textually specific foundation of an Islamic liberational tafsir or hermeneutics. One of the multi-levels of meaning in Ibn Manzur’s definition that his classical etymological dictionary Lisan al-‘Arab provides is the verb aqsat/yuqsit as a requirement of the act of doing justice (idha ‘adal) and the opposite of transgression. It is also associated with another Qur’anic concept and term, that of “al-mizan al-‘adl” (the just scale/balance) as well as “al-qistas al-mustaqim” (the straight scale), and hence more specifically connoting “equal division of shares ” (Ibn Manzur 1993, vol. 12, p. 101). Harvey also notes the “transitivity” dimension of qist in relation to ‘adl and quotes al-Raghib al-Isfahani’s (d. 1108/1109) definition that underscores the idea of “rightful or just share” (al-nasib bil-‘adl), as well as Muhammad Dawud’s observation of its association with calculating measured portions (p. 20).

Upon examination, it is found that qist and its derivates occur twenty-two times, while ‘adl occurs eighteen times (Abd al-Baqi 1984, pp. 448, 545). It either denotes the injunction to treat the marginalized and vulnerable groups in the community with fairness, such as the orphans, the mustad’afeen, and non-Muslims, or refers to practical conduct in lived reality, such as the prophets’ missions, giving testimony, trade and its association with both the actual physical scale and the symbolic cosmic scale. Nevin Reda calls this specific mechanism of social justice “the qist imperative” that is “never used to privilege the powerful and disempower the vulnerable or to promote systematic or other oppressions”, but exactly the opposite (Reda 2022, p. 279).

Toshihiko Izutsu has also noted this applied feature of the term in relation to justice and as referring to the treatment of others fairly and without bias, the opposite of which is zulm or injustice (Izutsu 1966, p. 209). Additionally, in his classic God and Man in the Qur’an: Semantics of the Qur’anic Weltanschaung, he demonstrates that Qur’anic terms usually occur in units of particular “conceptual spheres” or “semantic fields” with strong connotative relations, which result in each term acquiring additional dimensional meanings on account of these connections. Thus, he distinguishes between the essential, basic meaning of a term and its acquired “relational meaning” (Izutsu 1964, pp. 12–13). According to this analysis, it is noticed that qist, along with mizan, mawazin, qistas (variations on equal scales), qawwamin (upholders of justice), and al-sirat al-mustaqim (straight path) all circulate within the same sphere, signifying a call for implementing equality and justice and for avoiding the violation of this serious obligation through the practice of tatfif in sura 83.

Reviewing selected exegetical insights from the tafsir literature could help with the inquiry if there existed a hermeneutical tradition of considering qist as equivalent to social and economic equality and justice and as more than merely an individual, personal virtue ethic. Since it is impossible within this space to account for all the qist verses, only a few representative examples will be considered—4:127, 6: 152, 57: 25—where the term qist occurs explicitly, then in other instances on an implicit level.

The first verse under consideration is 4:127, which mentions three marginalized groups in the early community—orphan girls, helpless children, and orphans in general:

They seek a ruling from thee concerning women. Say, “God gives you a ruling concerning them, and that which has been recited to you in the Book concerning the orphan girls—to whom you give not what is prescribed for them though you desire to marry them—and also the helpless among the children: that you should uphold justice [qist] for the orphans. Whatever good you do, surely God knows it well”. (Nasr 2015, p. 249).1

The original Arabic uses mustad’afin to describe the children, and the command to uphold justice for the orphans in general uses the associated verb mentioned previously of qam-yaqum and the term qist. According to Izutsu’s theory of discourse analysis, these three terms occur together in the same conceptual sphere for a reason, namely, connecting social equity and economic rights of marginalized groups with a practical commandment to implement a system of justice. Also, we notice that the context of the sura as a whole, emphasizing the problem of the disempowered and the vulnerable, creates a sub-text of an obligation for change. The term mustad’afin occurs in the same sura two additional, preceding times in verses 97 and 98, describing the helpless and the poor among men, women, and children. Then, in a following segment of the same sura, verse 135 directly commands upholding qist for all as a requirement of being just: “O you who believe! Be steadfast maintainers of justice [qist], witnesses for God, though it be against yourselves, or your parents and kinsfolk, and whether it be someone rich or poor, for God is nearer unto both. So follow not your caprice, that you may act justly [ta’dilu]” (p. 252). The Arabic uses here specifically the noun “qawwamin” (upholders), as in 5:8, to be associated with qist in order to underscore the aspect of collective implementation. Establishing more intra-sura connections and relational meanings, one notices the occurrence of qist and ‘adl at the beginning of the sura in verse 3, also associated with the economic rights of orphans and women, as well as restricting polygamy.

In its entirety, Surat al-Nisa’ was/is a social, economic, and moral revolution, revealed to shake the hold of power, patriarchal, and class privilege, and to empower various oppressed and marginalized groups—economically, socially, and hence politically, that is representationally within a community. Most of its specific rulings—even polygamy, marriage and divorce regulations, men’s financial responsibilities towards women, inheritance laws, forbidding exploitation, orphans’ rights, etc.—are concrete examples of this trajectory of social justice, egalitarianism, and empowerment of the vulnerable, embodied and condensed in the term and concept of qist. Even v. 34, the most notorious scriptural difficulty in this claim, can and has been re-read in this new light with different conclusions. Together with that major goal/message of the sura, it contains explicit injunctions of essential ethical imperatives which are necessary for the understanding and application of these rulings, as well as for individual and collective moral transformation. This kind of holistic, directly liberational reading, however, hasn’t been articulated strongly enough in traditional exegesis—especially the link between qist in verse 3 and in verse 127, both referring to the exploitative practice of male guardians marrying orphan girls without giving them their due bridal dower or preventing them from marrying others.

Nevertheless, al-Tabari, in his commentary on v. 127, could see the significance of the Qur’anic commandment of new inheritance rights in a context that “did not give inheritance to women, or young boys, or a weak person” (Al-Tabari 1999, p. 411/5). And so, he underscores that the Divine order here to uphold qist for the orphans means “to give everyone among them—male or female, young or old—their due rights” (p. 411/5), maintaining that this specific implementation of fairness, qist, “is the justice (‘adl) of God’s commands regarding them” (p. 412/5). Prescribing economic rights and equal distribution of resources among the weak and powerless was a radical Qur’anic egalitarian principle at the time, which was/is intended to be applied throughout changing times and circumstances accordingly. The fact that some of the Prophet’s Companions repeated their inquiries concerning these ‘new’ rights prescribed for orphan girls indicates their dissatisfaction with the reordering of social classes and their economic privileges on one hand and the Divine confirmation of empowering the oppressed and forbidding their exploitation on the other. This is the conclusion we can derive from a ‘liberational’ interpretive perspective.

The following exegetes, Zamakhshari and Razi, also focused their discussions on the occasion for revelation, meaning the existent pre-Islamic social conditions of exploitation without further interpretive insights regarding a generalized imperative for all the oppressed. Interestingly, Muhammad al-Tahir Ibn ‘Ashour (1879–1973), the twentieth-century Tunisian scholar and exegete, makes this observation: “the mustad’afeen is a grammatical addition to ‘orphan girls’, and it is both a completion and an inclusion…meaning both male and female, al-mustad’afin wa-al-mustad’afat” (Ibn ‘Ashour 1984, p. 212/5). It is also worth noting here that in reference to 4:135, quoted above, that uses both terms qist and ‘adl, Razi, though he initially considers them to carry the same meaning, proceeds to qualify “al-qiyam bil-qist” as an action, and “ta’dilu” as a personal quality of the believers. The point is that classical exegetes on this topic may at times merge between the two Qur’anic notions in an abstract sense, while at others exhibit awareness of subtle distinctions in usage and scope.

The second verse under consideration is 6:152, which again associates orphans with qist, mizan, and ‘adl, placing them all within the same orbit of that recurrent semantic field—in the same way, for example, as another occurrence in 11:85 (“observe fully the measure and the balance with justice [bil-qist] and diminish not people’s goods”).

And approach not the orphan’s property, save in the best manner, till he reaches maturity. And observe fully the measure and the balance with justice [qist]. We task no soul beyond its capacity. And when you speak, be just, even if it be against a kinsman, and fulfill the pact of God. This He has enjoined upon you, that haply you may remember.

The verse combines injunctions of action, speech, and ethics through the central concretized metaphor of kayl (measure) and mizan (scale). Qist here means specific tangible execution vis-à-vis the orphans’ money, as well as a requirement of justice through intangible speech and the ethical imperative of fulfilling God’s pact. Although exegetes mostly viewed qist and ‘adl as interchangeable, in their commentaries on the prohibition of cheating orphans out of their money and of observing “the measure and balance”, they demonstrated awareness of the application aspect of the verse, rather than justice as an abstract concept or universal value. The reality and concreteness of the “scale” metaphor directed their explications towards emphasizing exactness in due rights, with the repeated phrase “without increase or decrease”. Zamakhshari explains this concept: “Observing exact boundaries is part of qist that denotes no increase or decrease” (Al-Zamakhshari 1986, p. 79/2). Razi also comments on the significance of stating “bil-qist” (by means of fairness/equitably) after already ordering full measurement: “God commanded the giver full deliverance of due rights to those who are entitled, without increase or decrease, and commanded the one entitled to these rights to obtain them without excess” (Al-Razi 1999, p. 180/13).

A related interesting note here is a couple of interpretive observations by Tabari and Razi on the relationship of verse 152 to the preceding one, 151, with both stylistic and discursive affinities. Verse 151 lists five prohibitions (with one commandment) and 152 lists four commandments (with one prohibition). Both end with the same phrase, “this He has enjoined upon you”, yet 151 follows this with “that you may understand”, and 152 with “that you may remember”. Tabari considered these two consecutive verses on account of their importance and significance belonging to the category of Qur’anic verses that are “muhkamat”, meaning clear and direct in language and meaning, in no need of deeper interpretation (p. 115/8). Razi comments that the five prohibitions in 151 are “apparent and clear, so they require reasoning and understanding, while the four injunctions in 152 are not apparent and obscure, so they require ijtihad in thought to reach a clear, exact position” (Al-Razi 1999, p. 181/13).

The third verse under consideration is 57:25; its first half reads, “We have indeed sent Our messengers with clear proofs, and We sent down the Book and the Balance with them, that the people would uphold justice [li-yaqum al-nas bil-qist]. And We sent down iron, wherein are great might and benefits for mankind”.2 Again, the recurrence of the same associated terms as a unit in one semantic field acquires special interpretive significance. Both Tabari and Razi were aware of the symbolic meaning behind this association. Tabari observes briefly that the “Book” is for the Hereafter and the “Balance” for this world, for how people live their lives, “taking by measure and giving by measure…to conduct their affairs with justice” (p. 307/27). As for Razi, he presents several facets or multiple interpretations of the three terms—Book, Balance/Scale, and iron—in relation to each other. Particularly, the relationship between the first two notions seems to be complementary, each representing one dimension of people’s lives, the Book naturally pointing to the Revelation and all divine scriptures (the criterial prescriptive aspect), and the Scale pointing to the lived reality of people treating each other fairly and ethically (the concrete, down to earth aspect). Razi considers the first term to represent the “actions pertaining to the self” as it internalizes the moral distinction between truth and falsehood (al‘af’al al-nafsaniyyah), and the second term to represent “physical interests” (al-masalih al-jismaniyyah), i.e., the practical application of separating “justice from injustice, excess from deficiency”. Thus, the Book refers to interacting with the Creator, and the Scale to interacting with the created beings fairly and equitably (bil-sawiyyah). Razi also links the Scale to the Straight Path in being a moral balance between extremeness and negligence. He continues, establishing more symbolic dualities: the Book represents the unveiling of deep spiritual knowledge, and the Scale represents evidence and proof; while the Book represents Divine injunctions from above, the Scale indicates the means and actions by which human beings execute justice and people’s interests on the ground. As for the verse reference to “iron”, it generally represents the might and strength sometimes needed to defend right against wrong, and truth against falsehood. The final comment he makes regarding the connection of all three terms is interestingly nuanced: it is the responsibility of the rulers to enforce rulings that are based on justice and equity, yet according to the verse’s order, “the scholars’ station, being affiliated with knowledge of the Book, precedes that of the kings who are affiliated with the sword (iron)” (p. 469–70/29). In other words, he complicates the relationship between moral and political authority by suggesting that power is double-edged, with the potential of being used to uphold justice or not, and hence, that physical might in the hands of “people of the sword” ought to be regulated by God’s injunctions and ethical knowledge.

Al-Tahir ibn ‘Ashour picks up this ambivalence by commenting on the double description of “iron”, possessing both “might” (ba’s) and “benefits” (manafi’). What is meant is to direct attention to the fact that might or physical power is supposed to be used appropriately to fulfill benefits for the people, not by criminals or “rebels against people of justice” (Ibn ‘Ashour 1984, p. 416/27)—the last phrase is left ambiguous. He seems to suggest that power ought to be put in the service of the people and the cause of justice, an interesting ‘liberational’ interpretive insight.

The purpose of the preceding interpretive exposition of a few sample verses containing the Qur’anic notions of fairness, equity, justice, measure, scale, balance, and the Straight Path is to demonstrate a specific and prominent textual presence of ‘liberation theological’ elements calling for a focused liberational tafsir. Such intra-textual echoes in various suras create a valid and clear discourse that outlines a call for social justice and equal distribution of life’s opportunities, not merely as an individual virtue ethic of being fair, but as a collective imperative in the Muslim community.

In other instances in the Qur’an, the subject is broached differently, without the explicit occurrence of terms but with parallel concrete implications. In the typically Meccan style, sura 90, verses 13–16, in condensed and eloquent fashion, allude to the freeing of slaves and the giving of food at a time of famine to orphans of near kin and to the helpless and homeless. In a way, the verses list categories of the mustad’afin, i.e., the socially oppressed and marginalized. The modern Egyptian exegete, A’isha Abd al-Rahman (1913–1998), uniquely gives attention to the social significance of these verses and the purpose of this short sura. She takes into consideration the preceding verses of 4, 11, and 12, which state that human beings are created to be in a condition of toil and hardship in this world, facing hurdles and obstacles. As she explains, this shows that the Islamic call is one of “struggle” and that the “Qur’an calls for fighting against slavery, class discrimination, and social injustice” (Abd al-Rahman 1966, p. 177). God alerts us that collective care and reforming the community are a priority because this is ultimately a message of guidance towards the effective reform of social reality. She calls these “verses of social justice aiming to correct the material conditions that allowed the existence of those who boast of ‘squandering vast wealth’ (v.6) and the existence of the deprived orphans and the poor homeless” (p. 178). Such references to specific reform and changes in social and economic conditions occur in the sura before the mention of faith in v. 17 towards the end. This means that human dignity and social justice are essential conditions of faith. No one can be considered a true believer except by turning away from transgression and injustice towards his/her fellow brothers and sisters: “A human being cannot believe in the existence of an All-knowing, All-Mighty Creator unless he is liberated first from the arrogance of his own privilege, power, and wealth” (p. 178). In this sense, the Qur’anic discourse illustrates that personal piety should not be passive and useless but accompanied by active, good deeds that benefit communities and societies.

Abd al-Rahman also criticizes the majority of past classical exegetes who did not notice this sequence in the sura and misinterpreted the transitional word of “thumma” at the beginning of v. 17 by saying it separates the actions of freeing slaves and giving food to orphans and the poor from belief, as belief in and of itself has a higher, more virtuous status, and good deeds are conditioned by faith that precedes them. According to Abd al-Rahman, they reversed and misrepresented the intended Qur’anic meaning when they missed the significance of the actual textual order of the verses. She insists, “There is no place for true, devout belief in a society that allows the ruin and wasting of humanity and accepts the holding of food at times of famine and scarcity, increasing the oppression of the poor and the deprived” (p. 179).

Abd al-Rahman does commend al-Razi, though, when he noted in another short Meccan sura (no. 93) that the order of the last three verses shows that God gives precedence to the rights of the orphan and the needy and delays the injunction to thank and praise His blessings, for these are in actual need in life, while the Almighty is self-sufficient and does not want or need our verbal thanks. Moreover, these particular verses use verbs to command action for the sake of the orphan and the needy, while commanding only utterance or proclamation of appreciating God’s blessings (p. 48). Hence, this is a unique case of a classical and a modern exegete using the same hermeneutical strategy to articulate a liberational reading and meaning-making which centralizes social justice. A last compelling comment by Abd al-Rahman about the socio-economic and political implications of this sura 90 merits quoting here: “This is the ideal society that the noble Qur’an called for, as the highest of humanity’s aspirations in their struggle to end the affliction of slavery, the ugliness of classism, the selfishness of tyrannical, transgressive individualism, and the sin of silent passivity towards Truth” (p. 180).

Another strong potential for an interpretive reading that prioritizes social equity, empowering the marginalized, and undermining accepted privileges is the case of sura 80. The specific historical occasion of this revelation refers to an incident when the Prophet (pbuh) turned away impatiently from a blind man seeking his guidance, giving priority attention to more renowned tribal leaders, resulting in God rebuking him. There are other verses that also advise the Prophet to be patient and not give up on those seeking religion (6:52, 18:28), yet this sura is unique in dramatizing an actual case and so inscribing and concretizing a particular message. The first ten verses read,

He frowned and turned away, because the blind man came to him. And what would apprise thee? Perhaps he would purify himself, or be reminded, such that the reminder might benefit him. As for him who deems himself beyond need, to him dost thou attend, though thou are not answerable, should he not be purified. But as for him who came to thee striving earnestly while fearful, from him thou are diverted.

The issue here has a deeper nuance than a simple exhortation to treat the poor with equity. There are two implications: first, this is a picture of a society with a distinct division between the powerful and the privileged on one side and the powerless and the weak on another side. Second, the Prophet’s initial conduct shows an acceptance of these social norms based on false criteria. Yet, God teaches Muslims through the Prophet to reflect on this situation and on the only valid measure of judgment other than social status, that of moral character and piety. Hence, the sura implicitly calls for the liberation of Muslim consciousness from acceptance of the conventional oppressor/oppressed binary and for a vision of a transformed society where both the moral and socio-economic status of the poor and powerless can be elevated to an equitable level.

Yet, the question might arise: do such examples represent only divine spiritual compensation or consolation for the oppressed? Proper holistic understanding of Qur’anic discourses applies significant connections, for example, recalling the two verses of 51:19 (And in their wealth was a due for the beggar and the deprived) and 70:24–25 (And in whose wealth is an acknowledged due, for the beggar and the deprived). Other than some differing exegetical opinions regarding the identity of the two categories of “he who begs or asks” and “he who is deprived or has been impoverished” and if this due money refers to alms (zakah) or charity (sadaqah), one should note the use of the Arabic word haqq, which literally means ‘right.’ Al-Razi also makes a significant comment on “the deprived” as a reference to all living beings who are unable to voice their needs. Hence, “there is an implied obligation upon those with wealth to be aware of the needs of others, even when others may be reticent or unable to bring those needs to their attention” (Nasr 2015, p. 1275). Such nuances, whether explicitly articulated or not by exegetes, corroborate the thesis that the Qur’anic discourse on equity, social justice, the poor, the powerless, the marginalized, and the vulnerable vis-à-vis the powerful, the wealthy, and the privileged is a connected matrix or paradigm to be publicly applied as a lived, civic ethos and a practiced obligation, not a private or individualistic virtue ethic.

6. Conclusions

This paper’s goal was to illustrate, via examples of ‘close reading’ of certain Qur’anic texts, as well as relevant exegetical views, organically Islamic notions and principles that compose an active theology of social and economic justice. Through underscoring the central principle of qist (equity), its affiliates, and other intra-Qur’anic connections, I have argued for the continuing importance and relevance of interpretation (tafsir), not as an abstract or specialized academic exercise or for outlining a detached value system, but as a divine prescription for a program of action, transformation, and interactive response to people’s needs. Even manifestly ontological, spiritual, and metaphysical statements can contain meanings of seeking worldly liberation and social struggle. A liberational tafsir in that sense pays attention to the sub-text—the social, economic, and political underpinnings of the Qur’an’s insistence on equity, egalitarian ethics, and justice. A liberational tafsir perspective opposes misinterpreting the Qur’anic meanings of piety, acceptance of God’s Supreme Will, destiny, and Divine tests as acceptance of human-created unjust social and economic conditions or as limiting the imperative of al-qiyam bil-qist (implementing equality) to a personal virtue ethic instead of civic, collective duty.