From the Shia of Ali (a) to the Religion of Ali (a)

By Rasul Jafarian | Translated by Sayyid Ali Imran

Introduction 1: The Foundational and Continuity Periods in Islamic Sects

The history of Islamic sects, from the perspective of their formation, can be divided into two periods: the Foundational Period and the Period of Continuity. The Foundational Period spans from the first to the fourth century Hijrī, during which the major and diverse Islamic sects emerge. In contrast, the Period of Continuity, beginning from the fourth century onwards, witnesses very few new sects forming—and when they do, it is typically in the form of internal, gradual, and sometimes rebellious schisms. During this period, minor sects operate under the umbrella of larger, established ones. Although transformations do occur within the major sects—sometimes even to the point of near dissolution—those sects that endure generally do not experience fundamental changes.

The changes that occur in the Period of Continuity are typically related to rituals and secondary details. Though these may sometimes appear significant, they do not usually affect the essential structure or core characteristics of the sects. This dichotomy (between foundational and continuity phases) appears both in theological and jurisprudential sects. Islamic legal schools take shape by the fourth century, and from the fifth century onwards, no entirely new legal school emerges. Likewise, the fourth century marks the end of the formation of major theological sects such as the Ash‘arites and Māturīdites.

With some leniency, we can extend the formative period of sects to around the fifth or sixth Hijrī century. After that, what we observe is a circulation of ideas and theological discourse largely repeating established patterns, with only minor modifications. From that point on, no major new sect is formed. Of course, smaller sects—especially within the sphere of Sufism—do appear, though these are more accurately described as schools of thought rather than fully developed sects.

Introduction 2: The Cyclical Rotation of Internal Trends Within a Sect

On the other hand, smaller trends or sub-sects within a larger sect undergo various ups and downs throughout different historical periods, advancing through a cyclical pattern of visibility and obscurity. Each time, one sub-group may gain dominance, only to later give way to another in a subsequent wave of change. These internal developments often depend on the internal structure of the sect itself and how it reacts to external events, based on internal dynamics.

For instance, whether a sect leans toward taqiyya (dissimulation) or acts openly, and if it does become public, whether it presents itself seriously or in a limited fashion—and how much such public expression affects its internal structure—are all important questions that may arise.

One of the key factors in the emergence, concealment, and evolution of internal trends within a sect is the level of popularity and acceptance these trends enjoy during each historical period among the community that follows them. Naturally, internal order matters to both the followers and the ruling powers, and they typically welcome change only to the extent that it does not conflict with that internal order or the foundational principles that were established when the sect was first formed.

One common application of the concepts of sunnah (tradition) and bid‘ah (innovation) in relation to sects reflects this exact dynamic: the previous trend is labelled as sunnah, while the new one is termed an innovation. The process of turning an innovation into a tradition, from this angle, is often a very time-consuming one.

Introduction 3: Akhbārī, Rationalist, and Esoteric-Bāṭinī Shi‘ism

Until now, three major epistemological trends in the interpretation and analysis of Shi‘ism can be identified. Although each of these trends has existed with varying degrees of intensity, and the boundaries between them are at times ambiguous—making precise differentiation occasionally difficult—this classification, based solely on epistemological models, provides an analytical framework for the historical and intellectual trajectory of Shi‘ism. It is not only logically and conceptually valid, but it also corresponds with actual historical occurrences:

• Islam with a Shi‘i Akhbārī approach: a trend that has existed from the earliest times until today.
• Islam with a Shi‘i rational-philosophical approach: a trend that has always existed, particularly since the era of the two Ṣādiqs (a), and continues to exist to this day.
• Islam with a Shi‘i esoteric (Bāṭinī) approach: this includes the trend known as the ghulāt in the early centuries, which was more openly expressed, and its continuation in Ismā‘īlism, and in certain Shi‘i currents from the seventh to ninth centuries, and later in the thirteenth century in the Shaykhī school—and it has continued until now as a marginal current alongside mainstream Shi‘ism.

These three approaches to Shi‘ism also have counterparts in Sunni Islam:

• The Akhbārī-Ḥadīthī approach in Sunni Islam;
• The Mu‘tazilī rationalist approach in Sunni Islam;
• And the Sufi esoteric approach in Sunni Islam (which is quite widespread).

As previously mentioned, all three of these approaches exist within Sunni Islam while maintaining shared foundational elements that allow the term “Sunni” to be applied to them. However, in terms of the purity with which they apply their specific epistemological methods, they vary in degree. To borrow from the terminology of Muslim philosophers regarding the concept of “existence” (wujūd), these approaches are gradational (tashkīkī) and differ in level.

Moreover, each of these approaches, in order to become a formal sectarian or religious current, requires both internal dynamics and environmental interaction. The external emergence of any of these as a widely recognized sect depends on numerous internal and external factors. Among the internal factors, religious and quasi-religious texts play a critical role, as each current relies on them for legitimation. Attention to the epistemic markers emphasized by each of these three types—Akhbārī traditionalism, rationalist reasoning, and esoteric-intuitive insight—plays a significant role in shaping the viewpoints of each sect, and in the process of refining and articulating their positions once they become formalized.

On the other hand, external factors in the formation of sects include the state, urban centers, tribes, political and economic interests, and even geographic location—all of which play decisive roles. In all of this, religious commentators and spiritual leaders of these paths tend to selectively draw upon available and credible sources (such as Qur’anic models and their interpretation, reports, hadiths, etc.) and, through their unique analysis and the creation of a coherent structure, produce outcomes that are then presented as the doctrines, beliefs, jurisprudence, and religious law of their tradition.

Once these currents take shape as formal sects, they require the attainment of a type of intellectual consensus among their followers—a consensus that can, in terms of power relations and group cohesion, ensure the stability and durability of the community. If such a group and its ideas find themselves situated in a favorable social, cultural, and economic environment, the process of its continuation and expansion will persist.

Introduction 4: Literalism and Esotericism in the Logic of Sectarian Transformation

One of the enduring disputes among internal currents within religious sects is the tension between an inclination toward zāhir (outward or literal form) and a leaning toward bāṭin (inward or esoteric meaning). Naturally, moderate positions that fall between extreme literalism and extreme esotericism are plentiful. The inclination toward zāhir emphasizes strict adherence to all formal and external norms, whereas the esoteric current focuses on the ultimate purpose, the goal, and the end of religious action, considering the outward merely as a vessel for deeper inner truths.

In many cases, the zāhir is interpreted allegorically into the bāṭin, and anyone who insists on the literal is accused of superficiality and religious literalism (hashwīyyah). One of the key differences between Judaism and Christianity lies precisely here: Christianity, it seems, emerged in part as a response to the excessive formalism and ritualistic rigidity of Judaism. The difference between Sufi trends and jurists or hadith scholars, and the opposition between them—as evident in the polemics of Ibn Taymiyyah—also arises from this dynamic.

This conflict is present in Sunnism, and similarly, the same dispute has persisted within Shi‘ism and its internal currents. However, from the outset in Shi‘ism, there arose a kind of association between ghuluw and bāṭinī esotericism that requires separate discussion. From the beginning until now, two simultaneous tensions have operated within Shi‘ism: ghuluw versus moderation, and esotericism versus literalism. It is evident that in human experience, there exists both esoteric religion and esoteric philosophy. In some cases, religion and philosophy become intertwined and are interpreted and analyzed through an esoteric lens.

When it comes to the literal and esoteric tendencies within religious sects, the rise of esotericism often depends on opportunities to facilitate the severance from the outward form through allegorical interpretation. In truth, the logic embedded in the intellectual models of esoteric sects, due to their departure from the zāhir, continually places the sect in a state of anxiety and ambiguity about whether it is accepted or rejected. Yet the tendency toward esotericism is not merely circumstantial; humans by nature include sensory-oriented types, rational thinkers, and inwardly inclined individuals. This division has deep roots in human culture.

In other words, in the Islamic world, there is fundamentally a literalist current committed to the principles that gained fame as the “religion of Islam” during the early centuries and were accepted by consensus. But alongside it, there is also an esoteric current—among Shi‘ites this includes the ghulāt and Sufi-leaning individuals with ghulāt tendencies, and among Sunnis, the extreme Sufis and miracle claimants. This esoteric trend operates under a different logic. Despite their differences, these groups often abandon canonical texts and possess their own exclusive religious writings.

A key feature common among them is intense secrecy, gradually emphasizing details within their esoteric discourse while avoiding outward literalism. Their thinkers possess unique arguments and special sources. They claim a large collection of hadiths attributed to the Prophet (p), the Companions, and the Imams (a), many of which are not found in the canonical hadith sources. Among Shi‘ites, this often results in a synthesis of ghuluw and Sufi-esoteric views—another distinguishing mark of this trend.

In every form of esoteric current, general reinterpretations of religious concepts and events play a central role, just as in Christian and Islamic esoteric movements, mystical visions, miracles, dreams, and similar phenomena become key interpretive tools.

Regarding the emergence and expression of ghulāt-esoteric currents within Shi‘ism—besides their relatively powerful presence during the first and second centuries—a resurgence occurred in the seventh and eighth centuries, especially in peripheral and non-urban regions during the Islamic era, such as the Ḥurūfī movement from Astarabad to the Caucasus, or groups like the Alawites and Bektashis in the Levant. These movements often remained on the margins during the Safavid and Qajar periods.

The Safavid era was, in some ways, a return to outward practice and jurisprudence, even though the esoteric current remained covertly present in society and in some cases even managed to influence the outward domain. However, in the middle of the Qajar era, esoteric movements reemerged overtly. Around the 1260s AH (mid-nineteenth century CE), they led to new sect-building efforts marked by rebellious and subversive elements, as mentioned earlier.

It was noted earlier that esoteric movements are often seen, from the perspective of the literalist trend, as departing from official religion. In other words, esotericists do not insist on remaining within the formal framework of the literalists, and thus leave themselves open to accusations of heresy. These groups often cross red lines. Due to repeated excommunications (takfīr), followers of esoteric trends frequently become alienated from mainstream religion and sects. They are driven out of cities and retreat to remote deserts and mountains, where they engage in constructing new sources, principles, and views for their sect.

These groups often operate in a more partisan fashion and emphasize concepts that reinforce secrecy. The frequent references in classical Persian literature—beyond theological and sectarian texts—to the takfīr of bāṭinīs, Sufis, and so-called heretics point to the ongoing nature of this conflict.

At this point, the introductory discussion has concluded. As for why these introductions were presented, we invite you to follow the continuation of the discussion.

From the Religion of Muhammad (p) to the Religion of Ali (a)

The book Ali: The Well-Guarded Secret by Amir-Moezzi has recently been translated into Persian. One chapter of this book is titled “The Religion of Ali.” From what we know of Amir-Moezzi’s research methodology and his perspective on Shi‘i studies—which, in many ways, follows the approach of Henry Corbin—while the work is indeed academic, it operates within an esoteric literary framework and is fundamentally oriented toward confirming preconceived propositions. In other words, he belongs to a category of thinkers with a deeply esoteric orientation, who consciously strive to uncover the internal logic of their arguments and move from beginning to end within that framework.

This group, from the outset, belongs to the third current among the three trends in Shi‘ism mentioned earlier in this paper. From their perspective, the definition of Shi‘ism is rooted in esoteric and ghālī (extremist or exaggerated) Shi‘ism, which they consider to be the original and authentic form. In contrast, the other two currents—namely, Shi‘i akhbārīsm and the rational-theological (kalāmī–ʿaqlī) tradition—are viewed by them as fabricated or merely superficial.

One aspect of their attention to esoteric ideas is the belief that esotericism, as mentioned at the outset, has one end rooted in the Muhammadan tradition and the other extending beyond that tradition, moving toward a form of religion that is independent from the Islam of the majority of Muslims. This same pattern can be observed later in the thirteenth century AH (nineteenth century CE) with the emergence of the Bābī movement. Similar patterns can even be seen in the Druze and other groups that splintered off from the Ismāʿīlī tradition during the early centuries of Islam.

In this context, Amir-Moezzi uses the expression “The Religion of Ali,” and in another article from the same collection titled “Taqiyya and the Seal of Prophethood,” he attempts to show that Shi‘ism as a whole has moved in this direction. The second article is, in a sense, a rejection of the mainstream Muslim belief that the prophethood of Muhammad (p) marks the end of prophecy. According to him, the esoteric traditions (riwāyāt) subtly promote this contrary view under the guise of taqiyya (dissimulation). ¹ The first article, which is the focus of this discussion, deals with the concept of “The Religion of Ali.”

Before entering into the historical discussion, we should first note that the research methodology employed here, in addition to being rooted from the outset in a specific epistemological–religious framework with its own particular epistēmē, is methodologically based on the interpretation of historical data through a phenomenological lens. Phenomenology, as a philosophical and scholarly method, emphasizes direct and unmediated understanding of phenomena from the perspective of the subject’s lived experience. This research approach is concerned not only with analyzing overt structures but also with exploring the layers of meaning and esoteric interpretations embedded within historical texts.

Within such a framework, the role of the subject in interpreting the data is paramount, and “narrative” is essentially recognized as one of the foundational methodological principles. Therefore, in this type of analysis, attention must be paid to the selection of facts, how they are arranged together, and the interpretive layers added—especially those that go beyond the bounds of historical fact. Any analytical dominance over historical facts distances us from the scientific logic of historical inquiry. This is one of our major criticisms of Amir-Moezzi’s article.

The purpose here is to examine Amir-Moezzi’s claim in the chapter titled “The Religion of Ali,” and in light of the various considerations he presents about Imam Ali (a), the chapter has a critical undertone toward a theory that views Ali (a) as the founder of a religion—even if this occurred after the Prophet Muhammad (p). To be fair, it must be admitted that within the thought of certain ghulāt groups, based on extraordinary textual sources particular to them, this view even exceeds such bounds and includes a quasi-divine perspective on the Imam. Amir-Moezzi justifies this interpretation through his use of the expression “Religion of Ali” in the text, and this is precisely the historical point with which we are concerned.

It may be useful to mention here at the outset that the concept of “religion” (dīn), aside from its broader meaning beyond simply Islam or Judaism, has never—in the early centuries—been applied to anything other than Islam, except in poetry or rhetorical speech, as we shall see. Samʿānī (d. 489 AH) in Qawāṭiʿ al-Adillah fī al-Uṣūl (1/321) writes:

“As for God’s saying: ‘He has ordained for you of religion what He enjoined upon Noah…’ (42:13), we say: the term dīn applies only to foundational principles, not to subsidiary jurisprudential rulings. Thus, it is incorrect to say ‘the religion of al-Shāfiʿī’ when one means his school of thought, nor to say ‘his religion’ and ‘the religion of Abū Ḥanīfa are different.’”

From his perspective, applying the term dīn to constructs like “the religion of al-Shāfiʿī” or “the religion of Abū Ḥanīfa” is invalid, and this appears to have been a fully accepted notion among early Muslim scholars. Later in the discussion, we will examine several poetic and historical examples showing that dīn does not always or necessarily carry its technical theological meaning.

Now we turn to the usage of “the religion of Ali” in several historical reports—some of which Amir-Moezzi references, and others he does not. The issue is this: Amir-Moezzi, by citing a few literary-historical reports from the period between the Battle of Jamal and the uprising of Mukhtār (36–66 AH), in which the expression “Religion of Ali” appears, treats it as evidence for a current of esotericism that aims at a rebellious stance against the outward and commonly agreed aspects of Islam and moves toward detachment from the mainstream community. The author tries to place two expressions in contrast: “Religion of Ali” versus “Religion of Muhammad.”

Interestingly, he makes no mention of the phrase “Religion of Muhammad,” nor does he examine its usage in early texts; rather, he treats “Religion of Ali” as the foundation of a newly established religion, parallel to Islam. The entire premise returns to a particular reading rooted in ghālī perspectives concerning the status of Imam Ali (a).

To begin with, it is important to note that in ancient texts, Islam is sometimes referred to as the “Religion of Muhammad,” and while such usage is not overly common, it can indeed be found in early sources. Naturally, since this religion was brought by Muhammad, it was often set in contrast to the religion of the pagan Arabs—more specifically, the “Religion of Quraysh.” The expression “Religion of Muhammad” does not appear in the Qur’an or even in official hadith sources. Instead, it is generally found in the statements of opponents of the new religion, who labeled it as such. There are, however, a few instances where early Muslims or new converts used the phrase. In cases where the term appears in poetry, it must be considered carefully, as it often stems from poetic convention or necessity.

The Phrase “Religion of Muhammad (p)” in Early Islamic Sources

The opponents of Islam mockingly said: “They say: The religion of Muhammad is nothing, but what we are upon—that is the true religion.”²

When someone in Mecca converted to the new religion, people would say: “He has followed the religion of Muhammad.”³

The hypocrites would say: “Abandon the religion of Muhammad and return to the religion of the pagan Arabs.”⁴

A Jewish man once asked Kaʿb al-Aḥbār: “Have you abandoned the religion of Moses and followed the religion of Muhammad?” Kaʿb replied: “No. I am upon the religion of Moses and have also followed the religion of Muhammad.”⁵

The custodian of the idol Nuhm, a man named Khuzaʿī ibn ʿAbd Nuhm from the Muzaynah tribe, abandoned it when Islam arrived and turned to the “Religion of Muhammad.” He said in a poem:

So I said to myself, once my reason returned,
Is this a god? Which of you has no intellect?
I sleep now, for my religion today is the religion of Muhammad,
The God of the heavens, the glorious and the gracious.⁶

These examples are mentioned to clarify how the phrase “Religion + [person]” began to form. Whatever the case, the expression “Religion of Muhammad” never gained official recognition, and as already noted, it was generally used by pagans. On one side was the religion of the idolaters and Quraysh, and on the other, the religion of Muhammad.

In another instance, when distinguishing between three religions, Islam is referred to as the “Religion of Muhammad,” and is contrasted with Judaism and the religion of the pagans.⁷ More examples can be found in the Sīrah of Ibn Hishām. All of this belongs to a historical context and later fell out of use in official Islamic discourse. Muslims did not prefer to describe it as the religion of a person—even if that person were the Prophet Muhammad (p).

In addition, the phrase “Religion of Quraysh” was commonly used in the literature of that era and in sīrah sources. For example, in Ṭabaqāt of Ibn Saʿd (6/118), it is said of the brother of Ṣafwān ibn Umayyah: “He remained upon the religion of Quraysh until the day of the conquest of Mecca.”

Similarly, in Ansāb al-Ashrāf (1/132): “Saʿīd ibn Zayd ibn ʿAmr ibn Nufayl used to hear his father criticize the religion of Quraysh.”

Another report tells us that Zayd ibn Ḥārithah, prior to the Prophet’s mission, would denounce the “Religion of Quraysh” and praise the “Religion of Abraham.”⁸

The Expression “Religion of Ali (a)” as a War Cry During the Battle of Jamal

Amir-Moezzi believes that the term “Religion of Ali” was used by some of Imam Ali’s close companions, and he acknowledges that Muʿāwiyah and his faction also employed it.⁹ He sees this as a pretext that was used by those who uttered the phrase to establish a particular trend within Shi‘ism—one that ultimately gave rise to the ghulāt (extremist) movement. More explicitly, he believes that in this perspective, Ali (a) was regarded as the founder of a new religion, whereas Abū Bakr and ʿUmar were merely founders of new traditions. This, in summary, is his claim, and I hope I have understood it correctly.

More than thirty-five years ago, in my two books Tārīkh-i Siyāsī-yi Islām (The Political History of Islam) and Tārīkh-i Tashayyuʿ (The History of Shi‘ism), I tried to show that Imam Ali (a) was the founder of a school—not a religion—called Shi‘ism. I supported this by citing a poem recited by ʿAmr ibn Yathribī al-Ḍabbī (from the Banū Ḍabbah, who were partisans of ʿĀʾishah during the Battle of Jamal). As their poet said:

“We are Banū Ḍabbah, companions at Jamal,
We confront death when death descends.”

He composed this verse after killing three of Imam Ali’s companions in the battle, saying he had slain them because they followed the “religion of Ali.” I also cited dozens of other sources—such as the repeated use of the word waṣī (successor) regarding Imam Ali in Shi‘i poems and literature of that era—to prove that even then, the term Shiʿat Ali (followers of Ali) had come into use.

As for the usage of “Religion of Ali” in Ibn Yathribī’s poem—which forms the basis of Amir-Moezzi’s argument—it is as follows:

ʿAmr ibn Yathribī, during the Battle of Jamal and after killing three companions of Ali (a), stated that he killed them for following the “religion of Ali.” Al-Balādhurī (3/40, 11/278, 389) reports:
“And ʿAmr ibn Yathribī al-Ḍabbī killed three of Ali’s companions: Zayd ibn Ṣūḥān al-ʿAbdī, also known as Abū ʿĀʾishah; ʿAlbaʾ ibn al-Haytham al-Sadūsī from Rabīʿah; and Hind ibn ʿAmr ibn Judārah al-Jamalī from Murād. He was the one who said:
I am, if you do not know me, the son of Yathribī,
Slayer of ʿAlbaʾ and Hind al-Jamalī,
And also the son of Ṣūḥān, upon the religion of Ali.”

This report is found not only in Ansāb al-Ashrāf but also in Tārīkh al-Ṭabarī (4/517), transmitted from Sayf ibn ʿUmar in Kitāb al-Fitnah wa Ḥarb al-Jamal, albeit with some variations. Al-Kalbī also transmits this account.¹⁰ These reports differ in some details. Ṭabarī’s report from Sayf ibn ʿUmar reads like a narrative story:

“Ibn Yathribī took the camel’s reins while chanting a war cry. He claimed to have killed ʿAlbaʾ ibn al-Haytham, Zayd ibn Ṣūḥān, and Hind ibn ʿAmr, saying:

I am, to those who do not recognize me, the son of Yathribī,
Slayer of ʿAlbaʾ, Hind al-Jamalī,
And the son of Ṣūḥān, on the religion of Ali.

Then ʿAmmār [ibn Yāsir] shouted at him: ‘By my life, you have taken refuge in a stronghold, and there is no access to you. If you are truthful, come out from that group to me!’ So Ibn Yathribī handed the reins to a man from Banū ʿAdī and moved between the two camps, those of ʿĀʾishah and of Ali. The crowd pressed in around ʿAmmār until Ibn Yathribī reached him. ʿAmmār deflected his blow with a shield. Ibn Yathribī struck the shield with his sword, but it got stuck and could not be withdrawn. As he struggled with it, ʿAmmār lost all restraint, attacked him, and in his fury cut off both his legs. Ibn Yathribī fell on his backside, and his comrades carried him off, but he died soon after. They brought him to Ali (a), who ordered that he be executed.”¹¹

This concludes Ṭabarī’s narrative as transmitted from Sayf ibn ʿUmar. This rajaz is also recorded in the book al-Tārīkh by Ibn al-Fallās (d. 249 AH). After citing the poem, he writes:

“Then ʿAmmār faced him. He was seventy-three years old, wearing a fur garment bound tightly around his waist, his sword belt tied in nine places. His knees gave way and he suddenly dropped to them. Ali seized him and brought him before Imam Ali. Ibn Yathribī said, ‘Grant me permission, so I can kill, on your behalf, three men as recompense for the three I killed for the sake of my religion.’ The Imam said, ‘No, rather I will kill you deliberately and with patience, for the three you killed on my religion.’”¹²

This latter addition is particularly interesting. The Imam stated that he would have him executed with deliberate patience (ṣabran) in response to the killing of the three men whom Ibn Yathribī said he had killed on the Imam’s religion.

The same account is also found in Man Ismuhu ʿAmr min al-Shuʿarāʾ by Abū ʿAbd Allāh Muḥammad ibn Dāwūd ibn al-Jarrāḥ (d. 296 AH), p. 18, where it is mentioned that ʿAmr ibn Yathribī was famously known as ʿUbbād. The poem also appears in al-Qawāfī by al-Akhfash (d. 215 AH), p. 12, although only the poem is cited without the event’s context. Al-Bukhārī, in al-Tārīkh al-Awsaṭ (1/85), also mentions this ʿAmr as having been killed at the Battle of Jamal and says that his brother ʿUmayrah was appointed as a judge by ʿUmar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb.

Ibn Durayd, who is known to have Shi‘i inclinations, also reports this in al-Ishtiqāq with an important addition:

“Among them are Banū Jamal, from whom came Hind al-Jamalī, who was killed alongside Ali, peace be upon him, on the Day of Jamal. And it was he whom ʿAmr ibn Yathribī meant in his lines:

I killed ʿAlbaʾ, and Hind al-Jamalī, and the son of Ṣūḥān, on the religion of Ali.
Then ʿAmmār ibn Yāsir captured him and brought him to Ali, may God be pleased with him, who ordered him to be killed. He did not kill any other captive besides him. When asked why, he said: ‘Because he claimed he killed them on the religion of Ali, and the religion of Ali is the religion of Muhammad (p).’”¹³

This addition emphasizes that the religion of Ali is none other than the religion of Muhammad (p).

The three individuals killed by Ibn Yathribī were Hind ibn ʿAmr ibn Judārah al-Jamalī, whose son and grandson are known and were transmitters of Imam Ali’s reports, undoubtedly among the Shi‘a, and Zayd ibn Ṣūḥān and ʿAlbaʾ ibn al-Haytham al-Sadūsī. The Ṣūḥān family was one of the prominent Shi‘i lineages at that time and belonged to the Shi‘i tribe of ʿAbd al-Qays. After killing them, ʿAmr ibn Yathribī continued reciting rajaz, until ʿAmmār ibn Yāsir charged at him, captured him, and brought him to Imam Ali (a). ʿAmr asked for clemency, but Imam Ali ordered his execution and explained that it was because he had claimed to kill people on the religion of Ali, and the religion of Ali is the same as the religion of Muhammad (p).

Here, the Imam emphasizes Ibn Yathribī’s deviation: treating the religion of Ali as something distinct from the religion of Muhammad (p). However, this was not necessarily the sole reason for his execution. The Imam cited his cruelty and wickedness as the reason, an act he did not carry out for any other captive.

Some sources, naturally attributing it to the Imam’s command, say ʿAmmār was the one who killed him: “So ʿAmmār killed him.”¹⁴ The event is also recorded in Tārīkh Dimashq (43/464).

This report appears in the Arabic text of al-Futūḥ (2/477), where Ibn Yathribī’s rajaz is mentioned, though the actual verses are omitted, with the editor referring the reader to Ṭabarī in a footnote. The version in Ibn Aʿtham’s narrative, as mentioned earlier, is more story-like. The Arabic narrative goes as follows:

“[On the Day of Jamal] ʿAmr ibn Yathribī, from the army of Jamal, came forward until he stood between the two ranks and reached the camel on which ʿĀʾishah rode. He challenged for single combat. ʿAlbaʾ ibn al-Haytham from the companions of Ali, may God be pleased with him, answered the call. ʿAmr charged and killed him. He again demanded a challenger, but no one came forth. He then began parading through the battlefield, reciting rajaz poetry. Still, no one dared confront him. Then ʿAmmār ibn Yāsir rushed toward him, responding to his rajaz with verses of his own. They engaged, exchanging blows. ʿAmmār struck first and knocked him from his horse. Immediately dismounting, he grabbed ʿAmr by the leg and dragged him to Ali, may God be pleased with him. Ali ordered, ‘Strike off his head!’

ʿAmr pleaded, ‘O Commander of the Faithful, spare me until I can kill as many of your enemies as I have killed of your companions.’ Ali responded, ‘O enemy of God, after slaying three of my best companions, you expect clemency? That shall never happen.’ ʿAmr said, ‘Bring me closer, that I may whisper something to you.’ Ali replied, ‘You are a rebellious man, and the Messenger of God (p) forewarned me about anyone who rebels against me, and you are among them.’ ʿAmr ibn Yathribī said, ‘By God, if I had reached you, I would have cut off your ear or your nose.’ Ali ordered him brought closer and, with his own hands, severed his head.”¹⁵

The same report appears in the Persian version of al-Futūḥ (translation, p. 433), which, as usual, is inaccurate and contains errors. For instance, “ʿAlbaʾ ibn al-Haytham al-Sadūsī” is rendered simply as “Haytham al-Sadūsī,” and “Zayd ibn Ṣūḥān” becomes “ʿAbd Allāh ibn Ṣūḥān.” Naturally, the Persian translation is more embellished and dramatized. Notably, the crucial expression “religion of Ali,” central to this discussion, is absent from that version.

The account of Ibn Yathribī, his rajaz poetry, and the story of his death also appears, with variations, in al-Jamal by Shaykh al-Mufīd and in Manāqib by Ibn Shahrāshūb. In Shaykh al-Mufīd’s version of al-Jamal, it is Mālik al-Ashtar rather than ʿAmmār who knocks him down and wounds him. Ibn Yathribī kept shouting, “Let me face Ali.” When he approached, ʿAmmār stepped forward and recited the following rajaz:

“Do not leave the battlefield, O son of Yathrib,
Until I fight you upon the religion of Ali.
By God’s House, we are more entitled to the Prophet.”

ʿAmmār then attacked and struck him, leading to his death. His comrades then carried his body back to their camp.¹⁶

In this account, there is no encounter or dialogue with Imam Ali (a), and captivity is not even mentioned, so the question of why the Imam ordered his execution does not arise.

In any case, from the totality of these varying accounts, it seems that initially—and for the first time—it was a hostile opponent of the Shi‘a of Ali who used the expression dīn ʿAlī when referring to three of Imam Ali’s companions, whom he had killed. In fact, this phrase came from the mouth of a hostile rajaz-reciting opponent. ʿAmmār, in responding to him, used the same phrase—essentially saying, “On the same dīn ʿAlī for which you killed these three men, I now fight you.”

If Amir-Moezzi aims to argue that the expression “religion of Ali” implies that some considered it independent of the religion of Muhammad (p)—or that there was a perception of Ali being the founder of a new religion in opposition to the tradition of Abū Bakr and ʿUmar—then it seems that such a conclusion cannot be supported by these poetic fragments. Amir-Moezzi claims that Ali is the only figure after Muhammad who is described using this phrase, as if he founded a new religion.¹⁷ But we will see that this is not accurate.

As shown in the reports previously discussed, Ibn Durayd—who is known for his pro-Shiʿa leanings—also transmits this narrative. However, there is a particular sentence in his account that poses a challenge to Amir-Moezzi’s interpretation. It is known that Imam Ali (a) had ordered that captives not be killed during the Battle of Jamal. However, when ʿAmr ibn Yathribī was brought to him, the Imam ordered his execution. When asked about this, the Imam replied:

“He claimed to have killed them upon the dīn ʿAlī. But is the religion of Ali anything other than the religion of Muhammad?”

“‘Ammār ibn Yāsir captured him and brought him to Ali—may God be pleased with him—who ordered his execution. He did not kill any other captive. When asked about it, he said: ‘He claimed that he killed them upon the religion of Ali—and the religion of Ali is the religion of Muhammad (p).’”¹⁸

Can it be inferred from this statement that the reason for the execution was simply the use of the phrase dīn ʿAlī? That is, did he implicitly accuse Imam Ali (a) of having deviated from Islam—a claim later made explicitly by the Khawārij? A more plausible alternative is that he was executed because of his cruelty during the battle, having killed three of the Imam’s companions.

In Tajārib al-Umam (1/499–500) by Ibn Miskawayh, the reason given for the Imam’s order is summarized in the phrase: “You killed three men—away with you!” Then he ordered his execution.¹⁹ This sentence supports the view that if the Imam did in fact order his killing—which, according to al-Jamal, he did not, since Ibn Yathribī was killed on the battlefield by ʿAmmār in the final moment—then it was due to his violence.

Regardless of how one interprets this, the main flaw in Amir-Moezzi’s interpretation is that the statement “the religion of Ali is the religion of Muhammad” clearly runs counter to his reading. Amir-Moezzi tries to cast doubt on Ibn Durayd’s account by saying the manuscript of the book has “many textual issues and presents unusual points,” thereby attempting to exclude this narrative from his analytical framework.²⁰

As we will see later, during the Battle of Jamal, the expression “religion of Ali” was used in contrast to “religion of ʿUthmān”—just as the Shiʿa of Ali stood opposed to the Shiʿa of ʿUthmān.

Other Instances of the Use of “Dīn ʿAlī”

Another case noted by Amir-Moezzi is the statement of Karīm ibn ʿAfīf al-Khathʿamī, who was one of the companions of Ḥujr ibn ʿAdī. He was among those who accepted Muʿāwiyah’s view and survived. When Muʿāwiyah asked him, “What do you say about Ali?” he replied, “The same as you say.” Muʿāwiyah responded: “Do you disavow the religion of Ali, by which he worshipped God?”

Karīm remained silent, and Muʿāwiyah did not press for a reply, seemingly not wanting to hear the answer.²¹

It should be noted here that it was Muʿāwiyah who used this expression, dīn ʿAlī, with derision. Therefore, this narration in no way supports the argument Amir-Moezzi is attempting to make. In Ṭabarī’s account, the phrase “Do you disavow…?” is attributed to Muʿāwiyah. However, in Ansāb al-Ashrāf (5/267), there is no explicit qāla (“he said”) between “similar to your statement” and “Do you disavow…?”, which makes it seem as though the latter is still part of Karīm ibn ʿAfīf’s speech. However, the structure of the sentence supports Ṭabarī’s version as more accurate.

In the Persian translation of ʿAlī, the Veiled Secret (p. 156), perhaps based on Balādhurī’s phrasing, the sentence “Do you disavow…” is attributed to Karīm ibn ʿAfīf, even though the reference is to Ṭabarī. Whether this is an error in Amir-Moezzi’s understanding of the Arabic or a mistake made by the translator remains unclear.

In most of the few recorded instances of the phrase dīn ʿAlī, it is used by the avengers of ʿUthmān’s death or by Muʿāwiyah’s companions in a tone of ridicule. Some of these same opponents, however, also used this expression in order to escape being killed by Imam Ali’s companions. We will present examples of both uses below.

It seems that the opponents of Ali coined this phrase to mock him, but in moments of panic, they employed it to portray themselves as his followers, hoping to save their lives. In such a case, how could this serve as evidence for the kind of argument Amir-Moezzi is pursuing?

Two instances from the Battle of Jamal where dīn ʿAlī was used out of fear of death are as follows:

First Case: Ibn Abī Shaybah’s Report

Wakīʿ from Fiṭr, from Munḏir, from Ibn al-Ḥanafiyya, said: “I attacked a man on the day of Jamal. When I was about to stab him with my spear, he cried out: ‘I am upon the religion of ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib!’ I understood what he meant, so I left him and did not kill him.”²²

Second Case: The Cry of the Azd Tribe

A group from the tribe of Azd shouted: “We are upon the religion of ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib.”

ʿUmar narrated to us, he said: Abū al-Ḥasan narrated to us, he said: Abū Mikhnaf from Jābir from al-Shaʿbī, said:

“The right flank of the army of the Commander of the Faithful attacked the left flank of the people of Baṣra, and fighting broke out. People fled to ʿĀʾishah for refuge—most of them from the tribes of Ḍabba and Azd. Their fighting lasted from the rise of the sun until close to ʿAṣr, and it is said, until the sun passed its zenith. Then they were defeated. A man from Azd cried out: ‘Return!’ Muḥammad ibn ʿAlī struck him and severed his hand. He then shouted: ‘O tribe of Azd, flee!’ A heavy slaughter overtook Azd, and they cried out: ‘We are upon the religion of ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib!’”²³

It is clear that some members of the Azd tribe shouted this phrase out of fear, in an attempt to show allegiance to Imam ʿAlī (a) and thereby spare themselves. Later, a man from Banī Layth composed a poem mocking the cowardice and defeat of Azd on the day of Jamal—Ṭabarī also records that. These two reports may refer to the same incident, as Muḥammad ibn al-Ḥanafiyya appears in both. The severe pressure and slaughter of ʿĀʾishah’s supporters likely caused them to resort to this very phrase, dīn ʿAlī—which they themselves had previously coined as a term of mockery—now using it to express feigned loyalty in order to save themselves.

“Dīn ʿAlī” in Three Other Cases: The Letter of Imam Ḥusayn (a), a Rajaz in Karbalā, and the Battle of Mukhtār

The expression dīn ʿAlī also appears—spoken by the companions of Muʿāwiyah—in the letter of Imam Ḥusayn (a) to Muʿāwiyah. Muḥammad ibn Ḥabīb (d. 245 AH) reports:

“Al-Ḥusayn ibn ʿAlī (may Allah be pleased with them both) listed the two Shīʿī individuals who were killed on Muʿāwiyah’s orders in his letter to him, saying: ‘Are you not the one responsible for the killing of Ḥujr and the two Ḥaḍramīs, about whom Ibn Sumayyah wrote to you: They are upon the religion and opinion of ʿAlī, and you wrote back to him: Whoever is upon the religion and opinion of ʿAlī, kill him and mutilate him, and so he killed and mutilated them as per your order? And is not the religion of ʿAlī and the cousin of ʿAlī—meaning Muḥammad [i.e., the Prophet]—the same religion over which your father was fought, and which has now seated you in the very place you sit?’”²⁴

The Use of “Dīn ʿAlī” in Karbalā

Another instance of this phrase’s use occurred in Karbalā. There, Hilāl ibn Nāfiʿ, one of Imam Ḥusayn’s companions, said: “I am al-Jamalī. I am upon the religion of ʿAlī.” Someone replied: “I am upon the religion of ʿUthmān.” And Hilāl responded: “You are upon the religion of Shayṭān.”²⁵

According to Shaykh al-Mufīd in al-Irshād (also cited in Biḥār al-Anwār, 45/19), Nāfiʿ’s poem was:

I am the son of Hilāl al-Bajalī,
I am upon the religion of ʿAlī,
And his religion is the religion of the Prophet.

This last line directly contradicts Amir-Moezzi’s interpretive conclusions from phrases such as dīn ʿAlī, because the poet is clearly affirming that ʿAlī’s religion is the same as the religion of the Prophet.

The Phrase in the Battle of Mukhtār

Another case is a poem by Rifāʿah ibn Shaddād during Mukhtār’s battle with the ʿUthmānīs of Kūfa at Jabbānat al-Sabīʿ, where he said:

I am the son of Shaddād, upon the religion of ʿAlī,
I have no loyalty to ʿUthmān ibn ʿAffān.²⁶

It is possible that this phrase, which is essentially a variation of Shīʿat ʿAlī (partisans of ʿAlī) and was commonly used in contrast to Shīʿat ʿUthmān, gradually became popular among some Shīʿīs—especially in the rhetorical and poetic context of rajaz (battle verse).

The Phrase “Dīn ʿUthmān” in Historical Usage

Amir-Moezzi has written: “To the best of the author’s knowledge, ʿAlī (a) is, apart from the Prophet, the only figure in early Islam to whom the founding of a new religion is attributed using the term Dīn ʿAlī.”²⁷

However, this claim does not appear accurate, because there are texts that use expressions such as Dīn ʿUthmān and Dīn Muʿāwiyah, which refute this uniqueness.

As already mentioned, on the day of ʿĀshūrāʾ, Nāfiʿ ibn Hilāl, while fighting, said: “I am al-Jamalī, I am upon the religion of ʿAlī.”

Someone replied: “I am upon the religion of ʿUthmān,” and was told: “You are upon the religion of Shayṭān.”²⁸

Shaykh al-Mufīd’s version (as also cited in Biḥār al-Anwār, 45/19) includes:

I am the son of Hilāl al-Bajalī,
I am upon the religion of ʿAlī,
And his religion is the religion of the Prophet.

Even more striking is the poem by Ayman ibn Kharīm al-Asadī during the Battle of Ṣiffīn, where he said:

Until Rajab or the start of the month after it,
Red deaths (warfare) and black deaths (plague and disaster) shall befall you at dawn.
Eighty thousand men whose religion is the religion of ʿUthmān,
Battalions in which Jibrāʾīl himself leads them.
Whoever lives like a slave among us shall live, and whoever dies,
Shall drink molten lead and pus in the fire of Hell.²⁹

Zubayr ibn Bakkār also records these verses:

Eighty thousand men whose religion is the religion of ʿUthmān,
A marked (heavenly) army led by Jibrāʾīl.³⁰

This shows that the expressions Dīn ʿAlī and Dīn ʿUthmān were used in parallel—neither of which necessarily indicated a distinct religious system in the technical sense of dīn (religion), but rather denoted partisanship or adherence to a particular leader’s views, similar to “opinion of ʿAlī” or “opinion of ʿUthmān.”

Even years later, the phrase Dīn ʿUthmān or Dīn Ibn ʿAffān continued to be used. A poet named Kaʿb ibn Jaʿīl, addressing Ḍaḥḥāk ibn Qays (who had entered Kūfa but refused to grant the poet’s request), said:

Do you weep over the religion of Ibn ʿAffān (ʿUthmān)
After Ḍaḥḥāk laughed at us and mocked us?³¹

It is untenable to claim that Dīn ʿAlī has a special meaning, while Dīn ʿUthmān in these contexts has a different one. If both simply mean “approach,” “method,” or “school of thought,” then one cannot derive far-fetched conclusions from the use of Dīn ʿAlī.

Another text cited in some Sunnī sources attempts to show that Imam ʿAlī was not opposed to ʿUthmān. It attributes the following statement to him, which includes the term Dīn ʿUthmān:

“ʿAlī (may Allah be pleased with him) said: Whoever disavows the religion of ʿUthmān has disavowed faith. By Allah, I did not assist in his killing, nor did I command it, nor was I pleased with it.”³²

This statement is not found in standard historical sources and appears to be a later fabrication. Naturally, this would require further investigation.

It seems that expressions like Dīn ʿAlī or Dīn Muʿāwiyah could also imply the religiosity or model of religious practice associated with those individuals. In one instance, Yaʿqūb al-Fasawī writes about Zayd ibn ʿAlī and his decision to go to Kūfa, stating:

“He had gone to Kūfa and revolted from there because he had spoken to Hishām ibn ʿAbd al-Malik about the religion of Muʿāwiyah, but Hishām rejected him and was harsh with him.”³³

Perhaps in this case, “religion of Muʿāwiyah” refers to whether or not Muʿāwiyah possessed true religiosity.

Amir-Moezzi, based on a few instances of the term Dīn ʿAlī (most of which originate from the Umayyad or ʿUthmānī camp, and a few from the companions of ʿAlī), concludes:

“This expression was common and familiar to all.”³⁴

However, as demonstrated, the evidence does not clearly support the theological weight Amir-Moezzi attributes to the term. It appears much more likely that this phrase functioned primarily in political and rhetorical contexts—often polemical or poetic—rather than as a formal or doctrinal religious category.

The Expression “Dīn Yazīd”

Surprisingly, the expression “Religion of Yazid” (dīn Yazīd) is also used once by the supporters of the Umayyads in Tārīkh al-Ṭabarī. The passage is as follows:

“Ḥassān ibn Mālik in Jordan favored the Umayyads and called people to their cause, while Ḍaḥḥāk ibn Qays al-Fihrī in Damascus inclined toward ʿAbd Allāh ibn al-Zubayr and called people to support him. Ḥassān ibn Mālik stood up in Jordan and said: ‘O people of Jordan! What is your testimony concerning Ibn al-Zubayr and those killed in the incident of al-Ḥarra?’ They replied, ‘We testify that Ibn al-Zubayr is a hypocrite and that those killed in al-Ḥarra are in the Fire.’ He said, ‘Then what is your testimony about Yazīd ibn Muʿāwiyah and those of yours who were killed in al-Ḥarra?’ They replied, ‘We testify that Yazīd was upon the truth, and that our dead are in Paradise.’ He then said, ‘I too testify: If the religion of Yazīd ibn Muʿāwiyah was truly the truth while he was alive, then today too he and his followers are upon the truth. And if Ibn al-Zubayr and his followers were upon falsehood then, then they are upon falsehood today as well.’ They said to him, ‘You have spoken the truth. We pledge allegiance to you and will fight those who oppose you and who obey Ibn al-Zubayr.’”³⁵

Given that the expression Religion of ʿUthmān (dīn ʿUthmān) has also been used several times—particularly the phrase “eighty thousand upon the religion of ʿUthmān”—and now we also encounter Religion of Yazīd, it is difficult to accept the conclusion that Amir-Moezzi is pursuing.

Some Additional Notes

So far, I have pointed out several errors in the citation and interpretation of historical texts. The translator has also made some literal mistakes. For example, in the text and footnotes, “ʿAlbāʾ” was mistakenly rendered as “al-Bāʿ.” Similarly, “Hind al-Jamalī” was written as “Hind al-Jamālī.”³⁶ In one poem, “yunkirunī” was misread as “yunkirūnī.”³⁷ This is likely due to misreading Arabic names in Latin letters.

Another strange point is that Amir-Moezzi, in discussing the poem of Ibn Shaddād—“I am the son of Shaddād, upon the religion of ʿAlī / I am not a friend to ʿUthmān ibn Arwā”—interprets the phrase “ibn Arwā” as a linguistic play. He claims that the word “rawy” (the root of Arwā, which in its primary meaning refers to a wild goat) implies a derogatory reference to ʿUthmān’s father’s name, suggesting it refers to a foul-smelling animal skin.³⁸ In doing so, he treats it as a taunt.

However, traditional sources have clearly stated that Arwā was ʿUthmān’s mother, not his father, and this has nothing to do with his father ʿAffān or any derogatory meanings. Arwā is derived from rawā, meaning “to give water” or “to be quenched,” and it can also mean “gazelle” or “mountain goat,” which conveys beauty and elegance in Arabic lexicon. Both meanings are considered pleasant for a woman’s name. ʿUthmān’s mother was Arwā bint Kurayz ibn Rabīʿah ibn Ḥabīb ibn ʿAbd Shams ibn ʿAbd Manāf.

Amir-Moezzi also cites a passage from Biḥār al-Anwār in a footnote following the account of Ibn Shaddād. He writes that al-Majlisī quotes this narration from Ṭabarī, but the version in his source differs significantly from the edited text of Ṭabarī. For instance, the name of the protagonist is rendered “Ḥirṣ ibn Shaddād,” and the poem is presented as a response to verses by Ibn Ḍubʿān al-Kalbī, who said:

I am the son of Ḍubʿān, the noble and virtuous,
From a band who dissociate from the religion of ʿAlī.

Firstly, the Persian translator rendered the word “ʿiṣbah” (group or faction) as “leaders,” which is incorrect; the word means a group or party. Secondly, “Ḥirṣ” is likely a misreading of “Aḥwaṣ [ibn Shaddād],” though even that is incorrect. The actual name is Rifāʿa ibn Shaddād.

Regarding the comparison with Ṭabarī, it must be clarified that al-Majlisī did not quote this text from Ṭabarī, but likely took it from al-Futūḥ of Ibn Aʿtham or Maqtal al-Ḥusayn by Khwārizmī. Therefore, the comparison should be with al-Futūḥ, not Ṭabarī. This report appears in al-Futūḥ and Maqtal al-Ḥusayn, the latter of which is based on the former. Another possible source is Dhūb al-Naḍār fī Sharḥ al-Thār by Ibn Numa (7th century AH). The poem itself is a double-verse:³⁹

I am the son of Ḍubʿān, the noble and virtuous,
I am the brave lion of the Hudhalī tribe.
From a faction who dissociate from the religion of ʿAlī,
Such were they in times past.

One more error must be pointed out. In Amir-Moezzi’s text, we find “Rifāʿa ibn Shaddād al-Ḥamdanī.” It is possible that the translator altered the attribution, but in reality, Rifāʿa ibn Shaddād was a Bajalī, not from Hamadān. It is unclear where the attribution to “Ḥamdanī” comes from.⁴⁰

We should not rule out one possibility: that the expression “Religion of ʿAlī” (dīn ʿAlī) may have initially been coined by the Umayyad faction, but later, the companions and supporters of Imam ʿAlī used it positively, not necessarily as meaning “a new religion” as Amir-Moezzi proposes. Furthermore, it is highly likely that the concept of dīn ʿAlī is functionally equivalent to Shīʿat ʿAlī, indicating strong allegiance and devotion, just as we find Shīʿat ʿUthmān and the corresponding phrase dīn ʿUthmān.

“Dīn” as Dominion and Authority

Here, based on a historical text, I would like to raise a possibility: could the meaning of dīn in “dīn ʿAlī” be understood as dominion or authority? In other words, when someone says they are upon the religion (dīn) of ʿAlī, could that mean “I obey him as a ruler”?

Consider the following verse:

al-dīn: obedience and dominion.
Allah, the Exalted, says: “He could not have taken his brother under the king’s dīn,” meaning under the king’s authority. (12:76)

The poet said:

“If you settle in the territory of Banī Asad,
You are under the dīn of ʿAmr (or, in some versions, ʿUmar),
And Fadak has separated us.”⁴¹

Here, dīn ʿAmr or ʿUmar clearly means being within his territory and under his authority. Another example supports this understanding of dīn as obedience and authority. Waqīʿ ibn al-Muʾammil al-Ḍabbī, one of the companions at the Battle of Jamal, said:

Are you listening? Are you obedient to ʿAlī?
And in truth, abandoning the wives of the Prophet?
Indeed, when I tasted the edge of the sword,
I learned well what is meant by being involved.⁴²

One could say that the phrase “obedient to ʿAlī” (muṭīʿ ʿAlī) here is similar to the expression “dīn ʿAlī,” referring to being a close and serious follower, that is, the Shīʿa in the sense of loyal, devoted followers.

A particularly interesting use of a phrase resembling “dīn ʿAlī” in the sense of dominion or rulership is from the period of the Riddah wars. Some people refused to pay zakāt to Abū Bakr, saying: “We obeyed the Messenger of Allah, but we do not follow the dīn of Abū Bakr.” The commentator al-Khaṭṭābī, in Gharīb al-Ḥadīth, explains that dīn here means authority and dominion:

“We obeyed the Messenger of Allah while he was present…
Woe to us, what is this dīn of Abū Bakr?”
He intends: “his rule.” It is also narrated as “the dominion of Abū Bakr.”
Al-Umawī says: “It is said: dayantuhu—I ruled over him.”
And al-Ḥuṭayʾah recites:
“You have ruled over your children’s affairs until
You left them crushed like flour,”
meaning, “you dominated them.”⁴³

In another usage, dīn is used to mean way and method. For example, when a poet heard that Hishām ibn ʿAbd al-Malik wanted to appoint his son Muslimah as his successor, thus removing Walīd ibn Yazīd from the line of succession, he said:

“O you who ask about our dīn,
We are upon the dīn of Abū Shākir,
The one who grants bridled steeds,
Neither a heretic nor a wicked man.”⁴⁴

Here, “dīn Abū Shākir” refers to Hishām himself, indicating a political stance or affiliation, not a religious doctrine. Thus, it should not be assumed that the expression “upon the dīn of so-and-so” necessarily implies a distinct religious tradition.

Dīn ʿAlī (a) Is the Same as the Dīn of Muhammad (p)

It can be said that the expression “Dīn ʿAlī” or “Dīn ʿUthmān” was rarely used, because it suggested a division or separation from the religion of the Prophet Muhammad (p), and neither the Sunnis nor the Shīʿa ever wanted that. The Sunnis, instead of using the term ʿUthmānī madhhab (school of ʿUthmān), gradually adopted the term Ahl al-Sunnah, to avoid creating the impression that ʿUthmān had a separate role in the formation of the religion.

In Ibn Durayd’s al-Ishtiqāq it is narrated that Imam Ali (a), after capturing Ibn Yathribī, said:

“He claimed to have killed them upon the Dīn of ʿAlī,
But the Dīn of ʿAlī is the Dīn of Muhammad.”⁴⁵

Similarly, when Imam Ḥusayn (a) wrote a letter to Muʿāwiyah, he stated clearly:

“Are you not the one involved in the case of the al-Ḥaḍramiyyīn, whom Ibn Sumayyah wrote to you about, saying they were upon the Dīn of ʿAlī, and you wrote back: ‘Kill anyone who is upon the Dīn and opinion of ʿAlī.’ So he killed them and mutilated them by your order. But the Dīn of ʿAlī is the Dīn of Muhammad (p), the same Dīn upon which he struck your father.”⁴⁶

Muḥammad ibn Ḥabīb (d. 245 AH) expressed it this way:

“He wrote to him: ‘Whoever is upon the Dīn and opinion of ʿAlī, kill him and mutilate him.’ So he killed them and mutilated them at your command. Yet the Dīn of ʿAlī, and the cousin of ʿAlī, is the very Dīn upon which your father was struck.”⁴⁷

In all these cases, the emphasis is on denying the use of the expression “Dīn ʿAlī” in a way that could suggest it is independent from the Dīn of Muhammad (p). Therefore, the insistence is that this Dīn is the same Dīn upon which both ʿAlī and Muhammad (p) fought against the forefathers of their enemies.

“Dīn ʿAlī” vs. the Sunnah of the Two ʿUmars

Amir-Moezzi points out that while the expression “Dīn ʿAlī” is used in reference to ʿAlī (a), the term sunnah is employed for Abū Bakr and ʿUmar. Since he considers sunnah to refer to customary practices, he interprets this contrast as evidence that “Dīn ʿAlī” is a continuation of “Dīn Muhammad,” meaning that it refers to the foundation of religion in the theological sense, whereas sunnah, being tied to customary practices, was not attributed to ʿAlī.

According to him, the different usage of these two terms suggests that “Dīn ʿAlī” went far beyond just sunnah. It encompassed more than a collection of behaviors and rulings tied to daily religious or non-religious life, and seemed to refer to beliefs and orientations spanning sacred and worldly spheres. He even suggests that “Dīn ʿAlī” may refer to the very religion that Muhammad (p) brought, in which ʿAlī is envisioned in the role of a messianic figure and eschatological savior.⁴⁸

This perspective, however, seems influenced by a preconceived inclination toward a gnostic or ghulāt reading of Imam Ali (a). In fact, even the phrase “Dīn Abī Bakr” has been used, showing that the issue is not limited to sunnah as Amir-Moezzi claims:

“We obeyed the Messenger of Allah while he was present.
Alas, what has become of the Dīn of Abū Bakr?”⁴⁹

Here the poet is critiquing Abū Bakr’s method and approach as religious behavior rather than merely political conduct.

The Expression “Dīn ʿAlī” in Shīʿī Ḥadīth Literature

The question now arises: does the expression “Dīn ʿAlī” appear in the ḥadīths and literature of the Imams?

In historical sources, a report from Nāfiʿ ibn Hilāl in the event of Karbalāʾ is found in al-Irshād of Shaykh al-Mufīd and Manāqib of Ibn Shahrāshūb:

“I am ibn Hilāl al-Bajalī,
I am upon the Dīn of ʿAlī.”
Then Muzāḥim ibn Ḥurayth came out against him and said, “I am upon the Dīn of ʿUthmān.”
Nāfiʿ replied, “You are upon the Dīn of Shayṭān,” and attacked and killed him.⁵⁰

It seems this final line may have been added later to dispel any misunderstanding that Nāfiʿ believed in a Dīn of ʿAlī independent of the Prophet’s religion.

A surprising variant is found in Manāqib of Ibn Shahrāshūb:

“I am the young man from Yemen, al-Bajalī,
My Dīn is the Dīn of Ḥusayn ibn ʿAlī.”⁵¹

The original text should likely be that of al-Irshād. The variation seems to serve two purposes: to reinforce that “Dīn ʿAlī” is the same as the Prophet’s religion, and to align with the Karbalāʾ context by shifting the phrase to “Dīn Ḥusayn ibn ʿAlī.”

Beyond that, three further narrations reference “Dīn ʿAlī”:

1. From Imam al-Bāqir (a), though transmitted through an Ismāʿīlī source, concerning qiyās:

“We know that qiyās is not from the Dīn of ʿAlī. Only those who do not know the Book or the Sunnah engage in qiyās. So do not be misled by their narrations.”⁵²

2. From Imam al-Ṣādiq (a):

“By Allah, you are upon the Dīn of Allah, the Dīn of His Messenger, and the Dīn of ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib. And these are but the traces we possess from the Messenger of Allah, which we preserve.”⁵³

Here, the Dīn of Allah, the Dīn of the Messenger, and the Dīn of ʿAlī are explicitly aligned.

3. In a supplication from either Imam al-Ṣādiq (a) or Imam al-Bāqir (a):

“When you wake up in the morning, say: I begin my day with faith in Allah, upon the Dīn of Muhammad and his Sunnah, and the Dīn of ʿAlī and his Sunnah, and the Dīn of the Awṣiyāʾ and their Sunnah. I believe in their secrets and their public teachings, their present and absent ones.”⁵⁴

Once again, the Dīn of Muhammad (p), the Dīn of ʿAlī (a), and the Dīn of the Awṣiyāʾ are listed together.

Al-Mubarrad, inclined toward the Khārijite perspective, reports that the Shīʿa counted Mirdās ibn Udayyah among their own because he revolted against a tyrannical ruler and called toward truth. Among the beliefs attributed to him is that he wrote a letter to Ḥusayn ibn ʿAlī saying:

“I do not follow the opinion of the Khārijites. I am only upon the Dīn of your father.”⁵⁵

Given the phrase “opinion of the Khārijites” and the poetic context, “Dīn of your father” here most likely refers to ʿAlī’s view or opinion (raʾy).

There are other instances in which the phrase “innī adīnu bimā…” (I follow the Dīn of…) is used for both Khārijites—“innī adīnu bimā dāna al-sharāt bih”—and for ʿAlī as the designated waṣī, as in the poetry of Sayyid Ḥimyarī.⁵⁶

Thus, these instances do not provide adequate evidence to support Amir-Moezzi’s interpretation. At most, they show that some people accepted the legal interpretations or opinions of ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib (a), with an emphasis that this was the same as the religion of the Prophet (p).

Finally, even Wilferd Madelung, as quoted by Amir-Moezzi, says: “At this stage, ‘Dīn ʿAlī’ had only a limited meaning. It most likely referred to the claim that ʿAlī was the best of people after the Prophet, his designated successor (waṣī), and therefore had the most legitimate right to lead the Muslim community.”⁵⁷

1. Ali: The Well-Guarded Secret, p. 308
2. Tafsīr of Muqātil ibn Sulaymān, 1/377
3. Sīrah of Ibn Isḥāq, p. 293, ed. Zakkār
4. Tafsīr of Yaḥyā ibn Sallām, 2/706, ed. Hind Shalabī, 2004
5. Tafsīr of Yaḥyā ibn Sallām, 2/789
6. al-Aṣnām, p. 40, Cairo, 2000
7. Maghāzī of al-Wāqidī, 1/369
8. Ansāb al-Ashrāf, 10/470
9.  Ali: The Well-Guarded Secret, p. 157
10. Jumhurat al-Nasab, ed. Nāji, p. 298
11. Tārīkh al-Ṭabarī, 4/516–517
12. al-Tārīkh, p. 287
13. al-Ishtiqāq, p. 413
14. Mirʾāt al-Zamān, 6/170
15. al-Futūḥ, 2/477
16. al-Jamal, p. 346; Manāqib Ibn Shahrāshūb, 3/156
17. ʿAlī, the Veiled Secret, p. 158
18. al-Ishtiqāq, p. 413
19. Tajārib al-Umam, 1/499–500; al-Iṣābah, 5/122; Nihāyat al-Arab, 20/73
20. ʿAlī, the Veiled Secret, p. 155
21. Tārīkh al-Ṭabarī, 5/276
22. al-Muṣannaf of Ibn Abī Shaybah, ed. al-Ḥūt, vol. 7, p. 538
23. Tārīkh al-Ṭabarī, vol. 4, p. 512
24. al-Muḥabbar, p. 479
25. Tārīkh al-Ṭabarī from Abū Mikhnaf, 5/435; Yatīmat al-Dahr, 2/72; al-Irshād, 2/103
26. Ansāb al-Ashrāf, 6/399; Tārīkh al-Ṭabarī, 6/50; al-Futūḥ, 6/279
27. ʿAlī: Rāz-e Sar bi-Muhr, p. 158
28. Tārīkh al-Ṭabarī from Abū Mikhnaf, 5/435; Yatīmat al-Dahr, 2/72; al-Irshād, 2/103
29. Waqʿat Ṣiffīn, p. 566
30. al-Muwaffaqiyyāt, p. 465; Ansāb al-Ashrāf, 7/23; Tārīkh al-Ṭabarī, 5/435; al-Aghānī, vol. 14, p. 408
31. Ansāb al-Ashrāf, 11/55; Tārīkh Dimashq, 50/128
32. al-Istīʿāb fī Maʿrifat al-Aṣḥāb, 3/1044; Tahdhīb al-Kamāl, 19/53
33. al-Maʿrifah wa al-Tārīkh, 3/348; Tārīkh al-Islām by al-Dhahabī, 8/106
34. ʿAlī: Rāz-e Sar bi-Muhr, p. 157
35. Tārīkh al-Ṭabarī, 5/531
36. pp. 154–155
37. Tārīkh al-Ṭabarī, 4/517
38. ʿAlī: Rāz-e Sar bi-Muhr, p. 157
39. Biḥār al-Anwār, p. 157; al-Futūḥ, vol. 6, p. 279; Maqtal al-Ḥusayn, vol. 2, p. 263; Dhūb al-Naḍār fī Sharḥ al-Thār, p. 134
40. ʿAlī: Rāz-e Sar bi-Muhr, p. 157
41. Jumhūrat al-Lughah (Ibn Durayd), 2/688
42. al-Futūḥ, 2/476
43. Gharīb al-Ḥadīth (al-Khaṭṭābī), 1/551
44. Ansāb al-Ashrāf, 8/388
45. al-Ishtiqāq, p. 413
46. Ansāb al-Ashrāf, 5/129
47. al-Muḥabbar, p. 479, Cairo ed. 1421 AH; al-Majmūʿ al-Lafīf (al-Ṭarābulusī, d. after 515 AH), p. 520, Beirut 1425 AH
48. Rāz-i Sar bih-Muhr-i ʿAlī, p. 162
49. al-Shiʿr wa al-Shuʿarāʾ (Ibn Qutaybah), vol. 1, p. 310
50. al-Irshād, 2/103; Iʿlām al-Warā, 1/462; see also Biḥār al-Anwār, 45/19, with a variation: “and his Dīn is the Dīn of the Prophet.”
51. Manāqib, 4/104
52. Daʿāʾim al-Islām, 2/536
53. al-Maḥāsin, 1/164
54. al-Kāfī, 2/523
55. al-Kāmil (al-Mubarrad), ed. Abū al-Faḍl Ibrāhīm, 3/158
56. Ansāb al-Ashrāf (al-Balādhurī), 11/378; al-Kāmil (al-Mubarrad), 3/174
57. Rāz-i Sar bih-Muhr-i ʿAlī, p. 162