As the 1978–1979 revolution approached, Khomeini’s reactionary conceptions of the ideal social order were all but forgotten. The popular assumption was that Khomeini and, along with him, the rest of the clerical establishment were “revolutionary” in the true sense of the word. But the clerical establishment, which had long been divided among itself, had engaged in little innovation of any kind, either on its own or through the institution of the howzeh. Equally valuable for the victors of the revolution has been the howzeh, a hallowed institution of religious teaching and learning for the better part of a century. For nearly as long, it has been a bastion of jurisprudential traditionalism. Khomeini saw it as archaic. Two decades later, Khamenei extended the state’s capture to the howzeh, bureaucratized it, ensured its financial dependence, and, through added administrative units, made it a practical extension of the state. If the howzeh was ever a forum for jurisprudential innovation, that rare possibility is even rarer now. Not surprisingly, what jurisprudential innovation has taken place, by Khomeini and by successive generations of religious scholars, has been overwhelmingly outside of the howzeh.

Khomeini’s arguments were foundational to the Islamic Republic. The significance of his jurisprudential contributions and innovations cannot be overstated. For the first time, he theorized about direct rule by a faqih. He revolutionized the position of velayat-e faqih by taking it out of the social and cultural realms only and planting it firmly in the domain of politics. First, he made the velayat-e faqih a political supervisor, then a ruler, and finally an absolute ruler. Khomeini gave the absolute ruler the authority to issue injunctions that superseded the injunctions of religion if necessary and empowered him to decide on what was expedient and in the interest of the greater good. These ideas continue to remain foundational to the Islamic Republic. Today, Khomeini the ruler has been all but forgotten. His portraits continue to adorn government buildings, his mausoleum is a frequent stop for visiting dignitaries, and his legacy is duly praised on official occasions and in state ceremonies. But the state has long moved on from what one scholar aptly called “Khomeinism.” From the 1990s on, it has been “Khameneism” that has ruled Iran politically and jurisprudentially, with its own conceptions of velayat-e faqih.

In recent years, we have witnessed increases in the frequency and intensity of spontaneous protests by Iranians from all walks of life. For the status quo to continue, therefore, the state will need to rely on ever greater coercive means to ensure the compliance of the different social actors, or, at the very least, their ambivalence. With Khamenei’s advanced age, and the rising cost of keeping the status quo going, both politically and in human life, a continuation of Khameneism as it has taken shape over the past decade or so, especially beyond Khamenei, seems highly unlikely in the long run. Even if the Revolutionary Guards become politically more powerful, which in the immediate aftermath of Khamenei’s death seems highly likely, the possibility of a stale, archaic state ruling over a dynamic society appears untenable in the long run. The state will have no alternative but to modify some of its austere approach toward society if it is to survive.

In today’s Iran, state–religion relations exhibit three key features. An obvious feature is the deep basis of the state in innovative interpretations of Shia jurisprudence. The Islamic Republic is based on the system of the velayat-e faqih, generally translated in English as the “guardianship of the jurisconsult.” As a concept, the notion of the velayat-e faqih had existed in Shia thought for some time before Ayatollah Khomeini elaborated on it in his 1970 book by the same name. Khomeini’s contribution lay in his innovative interpretation of the velayat-e faqih as a supreme political leader who oversaw not just religious affairs, as previous theologians had theorized but was in overall charge of all affairs of the entire community, profane and political as well as religious. Today, Khomeini’s conception of velayat-e faqih underlies the institutional and political foundations of the Islamic Republic. The Iranian political system is far more ideologically informed, and hence ideological, than may at first meet the eye.

This chapter focuses on the arguments of precisely the kind of individual described by Kadivar. More specifically, within the intellectual reformist current described in the previous chapter, the arguments of a number of particular figures associated with it deserve more in-depth treatment. These individuals took the hermeneutics movement started by Soroush one step further by theorizing about Islamic democracy. They made explicit one of the key dimensions that is implicit in the hermeneutics movement, namely that, interpreted correctly, there is deep theoretical and structural consistency between Islam and democracy. As with their intellectual predecessors, this new crop of scholars start with the assumption that religious teachings are powerfully influenced by social conditions. Many religious rules came about to address specific social conditions that existed at a particular time and place, they argue, and therefore may not apply at other times. By the same token, understanding the teachings of religion and acquiring religious knowledge also depend on prevailing conditions.

This book has presented an in-depth analysis of the story of Aghā-yi Buzurg and her path to becoming the “Great Lady” in sixteenth-century Bukhara. Through this case study, it has provided a unique insight into the complex intersection of gender and age within early modern Muslim discourse. In view of the scarcity of historical sources documenting female religious authority in Muslim contexts, we are fortunate to have access to the Maẓhar al-ʿajāʾib and later narrative traditions to reconstruct Aghā-yi Buzurg’s legacy and to trace people’s interest in her over half a millennium. The Maẓhar al-ʿajāʾib is a remarkable text that offers a basis for a reassessment of the role played by women in early modern Central Asia. Although the distinct view of history conveyed in devotional and hagiographical sources is often overlooked, such sources are essential for understanding the early modern religious worldview. The Maẓhar al-ʿajāʾib not only gives voice to Aghā-yi Buzurg, albeit through her male devotees and hagiographers, but also grants us a glimpse into popular attitudes and assumptions concerning women, women’s experiences, and societal gender ideals. Using sources such as the Maẓhar al-ʿajāʾib as a forum for historical reflection on societal perceptions of prescriptive gender roles creates new ways of conceptualizing gender history. By highlighting the complexity and shifting historical character of female religious authority, Aghā-yi Buzurg’s example demonstrates that the silence of the archives does not necessarily mean that women were excluded from public engagement and leadership opportunities in early modern Central Asia. The reproduction and reception of the Maẓhar al-ʿajāʾib over a period of several centuries could indicate that more texts dedicated to women were produced in Islamic Central Asia. Although it may sound fanciful, the possible existence of as yet undiscovered writings on women and their experiences is a promising prospect.

Chapter 4 explores the Chaghatay Book of Guidance, written in sixteenth-century Central Asia as a manual for women about ideal womanhood. The Book of Guidance was commissioned by the royal consort of the Shibanid ruler ʿUbaydullāh Khan, Moghūl Khanim, who is portrayed as a powerful patroness and disciple of Aghā-yi Buzurg in the Maẓhar al-ʿajāʾib. The fact that both the Book of Guidance and the Maẓhar al-ʿajāʾib were composed within the same historico-geographical and socioreligious environment makes them invaluable for the study of gender construction from a comparative perspective. The Book of Guidance constitutes key background reading on the prescribed gender roles of women in early modern Central Asia. It thus offers a historical contextualization for the Maẓhar al-ʿajāʾib from a gender perspective and allows us to better understand the complexities of Aghā-yi Buzurg’s case.

The public proclamation of pro-ʿAlid sentiment, encouraged under the Timurids, became dangerous when veneration of ʿAlī and his descendants began to be associated with sympathies for the Shiʿi Safavids. Although the Safavid state rapidly became a major political threat to its neighbors, the gradual conversion of the majority of Iran’s Sunni population to Shiʿism under Safavid rule caused even greater distress in Sunni Central Asia from a religious standpoint. Within the tumultuous religio-political environment of the early sixteenth century, we find Aghā-yi Buzurg and her disciples in Mawarannahr, where they continued the Timurid-era tradition of ʿAlid devotion under Shibanid rule. It is within this socioreligious context that Aghā-yi Buzurg’s veneration of the ahl al-bayt and the centrality of ʿAlidism in the Maẓhar al-ʿajāʾib are examined in Chapter 2.

Chapter 7 explores the shrine complex of Aghā-yi Buzurg and its history. Her shrine, known as that of “Qiz Bibi,” is situated near the city of Bukhara. The traditions surrounding the shrine remind visitors of Aghā-yi Buzurg’s superiority in her struggle with her famous enemy, Mīr-i ʿArab. The accounts explored in this final chapter allow us to discern the reinterpretation of the figure of Aghā-yi Buzurg over time, evident in the written narratives and oral materials in which she was turned into a 14-year-old virgin, Qiz Bibi. These sources demonstrate people’s efforts to make sense of Aghā-yi Buzurg’s legacy over a long period of time and shed light on the development of oral history in general.