Introduction

 

The remembrance of the Leader of the Beloveds [Prophet] is the light [nūr] of faith [īmān] and joy of life. His remembrance is certainly Raḥmān’s [God’s] remembrance.^[1]

 

In line with other parts of the Muslim world, thirteenth /nineteenth century British India witnessed wide-ranging debates over Islamic practice. Among the contested issues was the celebration of the Prophet Muḥammad’s birth, commonly known as the mawlid.^[2] One prominent participant in these debates was scholar and Sufi shaykh Aḥmad Raẓā Khān (d. 1340/1921).^[3] Recent scholars have primarily approached Aḥmad Raẓā’s mawlid fatwās (non-binding juristic opinions) through the lens of the sectarian contestation between Barelwīs and Deobandīs, within which these texts occupy a central place. Mohammad Waqas Sajjad draws on selected fatwās from the late thirteenth/nineteenth century and early twentieth century from Aḥmad Raẓā and Deobandī scholars such as Aḥmad ʿAlī Sahāranpūrī (d. 1296/1879) and Ashraf ʿAlī Thānvī (d. 1943) to illustrate the contours of Barelwī–Deobandī polemics over the mawlid.^[4] SherAli Tareen, by contrast, treats the mawlid as a case study for comparing Barelwī and Deobandī methodologies of identifying and classifying impermissible innovation (bidʿa), relying in part on Aḥmad Raẓā’s fatwās.^[5] Building on this body of work, the present article shifts the analytical focus to the influence of the rational sciences (maʿqūlāt), specifically the use of logic (manṭiq), on Aḥmad Raẓā’s legal reasoning and argumentative strategies.

The relationship between Aḥmad Raẓā’s juristic reasoning and rationalist scholarly traditions remains underexplored. Previous studies have noted his connections to scholars who belonged to the Farangī Maḥal and Khayrābādī intellectual lineages, both of which emphasized logic and other rational sciences.^[6] Such observations, however, generally appear in biographical contexts rather than as an analytical lens for examining his legal output. This article seeks to address that gap and argues that Aḥmad Raẓā’s mawlid fatwās display a distinctive style of juristic reasoning. In this approach, Aḥmad Raẓā uses logic to structure legal judgment through definition, premise qualification, controlled inference, and the careful separation of essential and secondary elements of practice. This contrasts with his counterparts from the Deobandī and Ahl-i Ḥadīs movements, who used logic mainly as a supplementary aid to legal reasoning. In this respect, Aḥmad Raẓā appears as not merely a legalist^[7] but as what may be described as a juristic logician—someone who integrates logical reasoning into the very structure of fatwā argumentation by shaping how arguments are formulated, ordered, and defended.

To substantiate this claim, I undertake a focused analysis of the complete corpus of 116 mawlid fatwās that Aḥmad Raẓā issued between 1299–1339/1881–1921. Rather than treating logic simply as an intellectual influence, this study examines how it functions within legal argumentation. I achieve this by tracing argumentative structures back to the maʿqūlāt tradition, specifically the logic curriculum associated with the Farangī Maḥal. Using defined criteria derived from classical syllogistic reasoning, I demonstrate that logic in Aḥmad Raẓā’s fatwās does not merely support  textual citation but governs the derivation, scope, and conditional application of rulings.

The article consists of two sections. The first section situates the mawlid within its Indian social and ritual context  and provides an overview of the late thirteenth /nineteenth century mawlid debates. The second section surveys major themes and trends in his mawlid fatwās and presents Aḥmad Raẓā’s connection to the Farangī Maḥal and related networks  before moving on to a close analysis of their logical structure. This close analysis includes comparative readings of selected fatwās by his Deobandī and Ahl-i Ḥadīs interlocutors.

 

 The Indian Mawlid

By the late thirteenth/nineteenth century, communities across India widely organized and practiced mawlid celebrations in households and public places such as roads, marketplaces, and mosques.^[8] When participants performed the ritual in mosques, they even held it after Friday and ʿĪd prayers^[9] and recited poetry.^[10] Occasionally, partakers held the mawlid at the front of a walking funeral procession.^[11] These celebrations regularly included decoration and lighting.^[12]

Scholars were invited to mawlid gatherings to deliver talks and recite narrations related to the ritual. At times, organizers also invited individuals who would not be viewed as scholars or who did not demonstrate outward religious piety to narrate events from the Prophet’s life and sing poetry praising him in melodious voices. This was done in groups or as a chorus and in the format of the ghazal,^[13] and sometimes in languages that the audience did not understand.^[14] Furthermore, in their recitals, they associated  concepts with the Prophet that scholars would consider problematic, such as God coming to the temporal world in the Prophet’s body and the Prophet becoming one with God.^[15] There also appear to have been professional mawlid reciters who performed for a fixed fee.^[16] Similarly, there were women-only mawlids, where participants recited narrations and sang poetry.^[17] Accordingly, the ritual appears to have been quite pervasive in society, such that even those engaged in professions shunned by others (such as prostitution) might organize it,^[18] and even Hindus participated.^[19] Lastly, the Sufis were strong proponents of the ritual, with their unique practices such as samāʾ (devotional listening to sacred poetry with or without or music),^[20]  known as qawwālī in the Indian subcontinent.^[21] Practices that have always been associated with the ritual, such as the recitation of Qurʾānic verses and the distribution of food (ranging from simple sweets to lavish meals), were still characteristic of the mawlid in thirteenth /nineteenth-     century British India.^[22] Furthermore, animals were slaughtered specifically for the mawlid, sometimes as an offering to certain religio-cultural personalities, and served to attendees.^[23]

There appears to be a fusion of the mawlid ritual with the Shīʿī practice of narrating the events of Karbala.^[24] Another potential foreign influence on the Sunnī mawlid was the practice of building models and images of religious characters and deriving "blessings" from them, which was still common in Aḥmad Raẓā’s time.^[25] Furthermore, the expression of deep respect and veneration in the form of the practice of standing up during the narration of the Prophet’s birth or at the end of the ceremony (qiyām)^[26] was also prevalent.^[27]

 

The Mawlid Debates

Debates surrounding the ritual of the mawlid in thirteenth/nineteenth-century British India can be divided into two categories: those on the permissibility versus impermissibility of the ritual itself,  and those related to specific practices associated with the ritual. In the early thirteenth /nineteenth century, Shāh ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz al-Dihlawī (d. 1239/1824)  declared the ritual permissible, that is, if it was in line with how it was performed at his house.^[28] In his view, permissibility depended upon the ritual’s proper performance, which included asking God’s blessings for the Prophet (durūd), reciting  the Qurʾān and authentic narrations, reciting the Fātiḥa (the first sura of the Qurʾān)^[29] over any available food, and arranging for someone with a melodious voice to send salutations to the Prophet (salām). For Shāh ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz, anything other than this is against the sharīʿa and, therefore, not permissible.^[30] Perhaps it was during Shāh ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz’s lifetime that the ritual became problematic for specific individuals close to him. Shāh Muḥammad Ismāʿīl (d. 1246/1831), Shāh ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz’s nephew and a disciple of Sayyid Aḥmad Barelvī (d. 1246/1831),^[31] viewed the ritual as impermissible, although he did not address the mawlid directly, focusing instead on the broader practice of the Fātiḥa and the death anniversaries of the saints (ʿurs).^[32] He accepted that the basis (aṣl) of the practice was very good and in line with the sharīʿa, but when lavish meals and specific kinds of food were prepared, people viewed it as a requirement, dates were fixed, and it was serving a worldly purpose as opposed to its original objective, then it was no longer permissible.^[33]

Thus, there were already disagreements regarding the permissibility of the ritual at the beginning of the thirteenth/nineteenth century and within the same circle of scholars. Moreover, it appears that, up until this time, the basis of the disagreement related more to the practices and the beliefs associated with the ritual rather than the ritual itself. However, by 1289/1873, the founders of the Ahl-i Ḥadīs movement started to advocate a more restrictive view where the ritual was considered an innovation (bidʿa) per se.^[34] In his short fatwā on the issue, Ṣiddīq Ḥasan Khān (d. 1307/1890) labeled the ritual and accompanying practices an innovation since it had never been performed in the first three centuries of Islam (qurūn-i thalātha).^[35] Several scholars endorsed this fatwā, especially those associated with the Deobandī movement, whose views will be discussed shortly.^[36] Similarly, Naẓīr Ḥussain (d. 1319/1902), in multiple fatwās, declared the ritual an innovation as a result all of its manifestations and practices, and hence prohibited. His main argument was the same as Ḥasan Khān’s: it was never performed in the Prophet’s lifetime, nor by the Companions or the Successors, and therefore cannot be permissible.^[37] For the scholars associated with the Ahl-i Ḥadīs movement, the objective or intention behind the ritual was no longer a valid argument for its permissibility. In line with their reformist program, as the Qurʾān and ḥadīth did not explicitly sanction the ritual, it could never be accepted as permissible under any circumstances. Both of the Ahl-i Ḥadīs leaders were, to a certain extent, influenced by the extended scholarly circle of Shāh ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz: Ḥasan Khān’s father was a disciple of Shāh ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz, and Naẓīr Ḥussain himself studied from Shāh ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz’s grandson.^[38] Consequently, the idea of reforming rituals was not new; however, it acquired a new urgency in post-1857 British India.^[39]

In a similar vein were the views of the founder of the Aḥmadiyya movement, Mirzā Ghulām Aḥmad (d. 1326/1908), who considered the various practices associated with the ritual, such as performing the qiyām, to be innovations. He advocated for the recitation of the mawlid but not in the form that it had taken on in the thirteenth/nineteenth century. For him, the narration of the birth of the Prophet and other events from his life, after removing the elements of bidʿa, was equivalent to delivering a sermon. He therefore regarded this form of remembrance (what he refers to as "mawlid recitation") as not only permissible but recommended.^[40] In essence, for Ghulām Aḥmad, the "proper" mawlid was simply a sermon narrating the events of the Prophet’s life. As Hussain Khan has observed, prior to his messianic claims Ghulām Aḥmad had close relationships with certain key members of the Ahl-i Ḥadīs movement: Muḥammad Ḥussain Batālwī (d. 1338/1920), who was his classmate and friend, and Naẓīr Ḥussain himself, who at some point became his religious teacher and performed his second marriage.^[41] These close relationships with the Ahl-i Ḥadīs scholars might have influenced his approach toward some issues, such as his views on the mawlid.

On the other end of the spectrum was the Aligarh movement led by Syed Ahmad Khan (d. 1315/1898), who was not against the ritual per se but was in favor of revising the narrations and material discussed during the ceremony. In his early years, he had published a mawlid work that included certain traditional narrations on the Prophet and wherein he did not mention miracles of the Prophet, which was unusual for mawlid texts of the time. His text focused more on the moral aspects of the Prophet’s personality.^[42] However, in his later years, he even criticized some of these traditions that he had included in his text.^[43] Similarly to scholars after Shāh ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz, who were influenced by his approach of conducting the mawlid in a "proper" manner, Syed Ahmad Khan was impressed by the teachings and works of Shāh Walī Allāh (d. 1176/1762), Shāh ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz himself, and Shāh Muḥammad Ismāʿīl.^[44] Furthermore, this approach of revising the curriculum of the ritual appears to be in line with his broader program for educational and social reforms.

During Aḥmad Raẓā’s time, scholars close to the early days of the Deobandī movement were divided on the issue of the mawlid’s permissibility. Broadly, there were three trends: complete opposition;^[45] permissibility for the elite (scholars), who could identify its objectionable aspects and reform or remove certain practices:^[46] and general permissibility.^[47] According to Rashīd Aḥmad Gangohī (d. 1323/1905),^[48] who not only admired Shāh Muḥammad Ismāʿīl but frequently referenced his works and encouraged his students to read them as well,^[49] the mawlid was a bidʿa and therefore impermissible, an opinion which happened to be perfectly in agreement with the Ahl-i Ḥadīs scholars.^[50] He was one of the Deobandī scholars who endorsed Ḥasan Khān’s above-mentioned fatwā.^[51] He was also not in favor of accepting any good that could come out of a ritual based on illegitimate practices. However, he appears to be supportive of lectures on the Prophet’s birth and life and, when someone once requested it, he even sent one of his students and disciples (a scholar in his own regard), Khalīl Sahāranpurī (d. 1927), to conduct a "proper" mawlid gathering. Khalīl Sahāranpurī’s views regarding the mawlid were slightly different from his shaykh’s. Although he considered the ritual to be an innovation, if it was stripped of all the "excesses" (such as quoting weak narrations, mixing genders, overindulgence in illumination) and erroneous beliefs (such as maintaining that the ritual was obligatory, declaring those who did not participate in it to be disbelievers, supposing that the Prophet was present in the gathering and as a result performing the qiyām), then it was no longer a bidʿa.^[52] Incidentally, Ashraf ʿAlī Thānvī later adopted this view as well,^[53] after revisiting his earlier stance of permissibility.^[54] Lastly, both Ashraf ʿAlī Thānvī and Rashīd Aḥmad Gangohī’s Sufi shaykh Ḥajī Imdādullāh al-Muḥajir al-Makkī (d. 1317/1899) did not consider the mawlid to be a bidʿa intrinsically. Instead, Ḥajī Imdādullāh considered some of the blameworthy acts and beliefs treated as excesses by Rashīd Aḥmad Gangohī and Khalīl Sahāranpurī as minor transgressions. He saw no issue with fixing a date for the mawlid, performing the qiyām, and the belief that the Prophet could be present in such gatherings. For him, prohibiting the complete ritual was like "burning one’s rug because of a single flea."^[55] Ḥajī Imdādullāh was a disciple of shaykhs who themselves were Sayyid Aḥmad Barelvī’s disciples.^[56] However, his views on the mawlid seem to contrast with the consensus of scholars influenced by Sayyid Aḥmad’s reformist tendencies. One of the reasons for this difference could be that he was generally not viewed as a scholar but more as a Sufi, and thus some may have considered his legal reasoning weak or "flawed."^[57] In the early Deobandī movement, then, we see a reflection of all the significant viewpoints regarding the ritual up until the late thirteenth/nineteenth century.

It was in the context of such thirteenth/nineteenth century trends, with calls either to reform the ritual itself or to declare it impermissible, that Aḥmad Raẓā presented his views on the mawlid. 

 

Aḥmad Raẓā’s Mawlid Fatwās: Chronology, Locations, and Topics

Before examining the use of logic in Aḥmad Raẓā’s mawlid fatwās, it is necessary to situate them within their contextual circumstances. Establishing this context is essential for understanding why Aḥmad Raẓā adopts certain modes of logical reasoning in his responses. Accordingly, this section maps the chronology, geographic distribution, and broad themes of his mawlid fatwās in order to clarify the kinds of questions he responded to, who asked them, and under what conditions.

Over the forty years (1299–1339/1881–1921) during which Aḥmad Raẓā issued his mawlid-related fatwās, it appears that the bulk of these (almost fifty percent) emerged towards the last six years of his life (1334–39/1915–21).^[58] This trend occurred due to a growing concern with mawlid practices during his lifetime, triggered primarily as a result of the mawlid debates, and Aḥmad Raẓā’s growing popularity in the later part of his life.

In fact, for the first years, he only issued fatwās pertaining to specific elements of the mawlid, the first couple addressing the permissibility of performing the qiyām. It seems that the first fatwā on the permissibility of the ritual as a whole does not make an appearance until 1320/1902. Although, as highlighted earlier, scholars had already contested the permissibility of the ritual prior to this, with some of the initial fatwās on its impermissibility appearing and being disseminated in scholarly circles for endorsement purposes by 1291/1874.^[59] One reason for this is that the issuance of a fatwā depends upon the muftī^[60] receiving a petition (istiftāʾ).^[61] There could be two possible explanations for Aḥmad Raẓā not receiving any mawlid-related petitions during this period. First, the impact of the mawlid becoming a concern for Indian Muslims, triggered to a certain extent by the growing influence of the Deobandī and Ahl-i Ḥadīs movements, would have taken some time to foment.^[62] Second, Aḥmad Raẓā’s popularity as a muftī increased only towards the later part of his fatwā-writing career. There were three key events that raised his profile amongst his followers and the scholars associated with him: first, he was declared a mujaddid^[63] in a gathering of scholars in 1318/1900; second, he issued a controversial fatwā declaring certain scholars guilty of disbelief in 1324/1906; and third, access to a widely circulated regional newspaper helped him to disseminate his teachings from 1328/1910.[64] Around 1328/1910, we see an increase in the number of petitions received by Aḥmad Raẓā on the mawlid. However, whether this is consistent with the overall trend for a substantial increase in petitions generally is something that requires additional research and is beyond the scope of this article. Nevertheless, there is an indication of an overwhelming number of petitions received by Aḥmad Raẓā towards the later part of his life, such that he arranged for several students to assist  him in issuing fatwās.^[65] This development conforms, broadly speaking, to a general trend for the growing production and public circulation of fatwās from the 1890s onward.^[66] Figure 1 (overleaf)[SB1]  presents a graphic representation of the timing of Aḥmad Raẓā’s mawlid fatwās.

Figure 1: Time period of the mawlid-related fatwās.

[SB2] 

Aḥmad Raẓā’s Fatāwā Riḍwiyya addresses more than 6,500 questions on topics ranging from creeds, rituals, marriage and divorce, contracts and trading  to customs. The mawlid-related fatwās form a tiny percentage of Aḥmad Raẓā’s output: less than two percent  of the total questions answered or 116 fatwās in total, indicating that he was occupied with other far more critical issues. Volume 23 of the Fatāwā contains the most fatwās relevant to mawlid, which is to be expected given that it has a whole chapter dedicated to the mawlid and other rituals, such as celebrating the ʿurs of saints and narrating the events of Karbala. For the rest of the volumes, the fatwās are scattered under various topics; fatwās often relate to multiple topics, so that any sort of categorization is challenging. However, by first identifying the question from the petitioner and then analyzing Aḥmad Raẓā’s response, I was able to classify the fatwās into broad categories. Table 1 presents these categories with the greatest number of fatwās.

Table 1: Categories with the greatest number of mawlid fatwās.

Mawlid category	Number of fatwās	Percentage of total
Reciter requirements	17	15%
Content	14	12%
Permissibility	13	11%
Spending	13	11%
Qiyām	10	9%
Wahhābīs and Deobandīs	8	7%
Food	8	7%
Relations with deniers	8	7%
Organizer requirements	5	4%
Prophetic presence	4	3%
Women	4	3%

 

A quick review of the locations from where Aḥmad Raẓā received  his petitions reveals that most of these were in and around the United Provinces of British India. This is no surprise given that the institutional bases of the movement associated with Aḥmad Raẓā and his earlier supporters from amongst the ʿulamāʾ (Islamic scholars) were located around this region.^[67] However, it might also have to do with the fact that, during this period, people in these regions widely spoke the Hindustani language (a term used by the British rulers to refer to both Urdu and Hindi).^[68] Figure 2 presents petitioners’ various locations, indicating that the mawlid had become a subject of some concern across the region, and that Aḥmad Raẓā was known in some of the farthest parts of British India.

Another notable aspect of these petitions is that they appear to originate mostly from individuals belonging to the non-scholarly class.^[69] While there are questions from individuals who appear to be scholars, teachers, and students associated with religious institutions, these seem to focus mostly on the correct modalities for the ritual instead of its permissibility.^[70] Although this might indicate that, for most scholars petitioning Aḥmad Raẓā, the permissibility of the ritual was a non-issue, it may also have to do with advances in infrastructure that resulted in the ʿulamāʾ  reaching a wider audience than the scholarly class.^[71]

Figure 2: Locations of mawlid-related petitions.

This chronological, thematic, and geographic mapping establishes the context within which Aḥmad Raẓā’s mawlid fatwās must be read. These rulings were not abstract legal exercises but responses to recurring and contested questions that a largely non-scholarly audience posed across different settings. The range of issues that the fatwās address shows that the mawlid presented a group of interrelated ritual, doctrinal, and social concerns rather than a single legal problem. This complexity helps to explain why Aḥmad Raẓā’s reasoning often moves beyond textual citation toward distinctions and conditional rulings capable of accommodating variation. It is within this space that logic (manṭiq) operates not just as a supporting tool but as an organizing principle of his juristic method.

Before I analyze the construction of Aḥmad Raẓā’s arguments, I provide background on his connection to the maʿqūlāt tradition in British India. This context enables a fuller appreciation of his response and provides the context for my later analysis of his fatwās, particularly their use of heightened logical reasoning.

 

The Farangī Maḥal Connection

Theologically, Aḥmad Raẓā was influenced not only by the heightened focus on ḥadīth associated with the Shāh Walī Allāh trend but also by the "rationalist" (maʿqūlī)  orientation of the Farangī Maḥal.^[72] This latter trend differed from that of Shāh Walī Allāh and his successors, such as Shāh ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz, at the Madrasa-i Raḥīmiyya. Whereas Shāh Walī Allāh emphasized ḥadīth-based scholarship, the Farangī Maḥal approach placed greater weight on the rational sciences, particularly logic, which its proponents considered essential for the proper study of fiqh.^[73]

Aḥmad Raẓā’s primary intellectual influence, his father Naqī ʿAlī Khān (d. 1297/1880), maintained close associations with scholars linked to the Farangī Maḥal tradition, whose curricula emphasized the rational sciences, especially logic.^[74] Among the close associates of Aḥmad Raẓā’s family were the father-son duo Faẓl-i Rasūl Badāyūnī (d. 1298/1872) and ʿAbd al-Qādir Badāyūnī (d. 1319/1901). Faẓl-i Rasūl studied under and graduated from Nūr al-Ḥaqq Farangī Maḥalī (d. 1238/1822) in Lucknow.^[75] Aḥmad Raẓā later composed a commentary on one of Faẓl-i Rasūl’s most significant polemical works against Shāh Muḥammad Ismāʿīl (d. 1246/1831), al-Muʿtaqad al-Muntaqad (The Decisive Refutation). In the realm of polemics, as Tareen  demonstrates, Aḥmad Raẓā was an "intellectual heir"  to Badāyūnī.^[76] Faẓl-i Rasūl also issued a fatwā in response to a petition by the last Mughal emperor, Bahādur Shah Ẓafar (d. 1279/1862), concerning certain practices associated with the mawlid.^[77]

Aḥmad Raẓā was also connected to the Badāyūnīs through Sufi networks. Faẓl-i Rasūl’s father was a disciple and vicegerent (khalīfa) of the Sufi master Shāh Āl-i Aḥmad Barkātī (d. 1235/1819) of the Barkātiyya Sayyids of Marahra. Faẓl-i Rasūl himself was later invested with vicegerency (khirqa or khilāfa), and his son, ʿAbd al-Qādir, was among his disciples. The family maintained close ties with the Barkātīs well into Aḥmad Raẓā’s lifetime.^[78] Indeed, it was ʿAbd al-Qādir who suggested that both Naqī ʿAlī and Aḥmad Raẓā become disciples of Āl-i Aḥmad’s nephew, Shāh Āl-i Rasūl Barkātī (d. 1296/1879).^[79] Significantly, Āl-i Rasūl had also studied under Nūr al-Ḥaqq in Lucknow, further reinforcing Aḥmad Raẓā’s intellectual links to the Farangī Maḥal.^[80]

Alongside the Farangī Maḥal, another maʿqūlāt tradition was active during this period: the Khayrābādī school. Emerging from the Farangī Maḥal in the late twelfth/eighteenth century, the Khayrābādī trend had developed a distinct character by Aḥmad Raẓā’s time, including differences in curricular emphases and instructional texts.^[81] Nevertheless, considerable overlap existed, as both belonged to the broader maʿqūlāt tradition. Students often studied with scholars associated with both trends, and scholars maintained intellectual ties across these networks. Faẓl-i Rasūl and Faẓl-i Ḥaqq Khayrābādī (d. 1278/1861), for instance, were both students of Faẓl-i Imām Khayrābādī (d. 1243/1828) and maintained a close friendship. Moreover, ʿAbd al-Qādir studied logic under Faẓl-i Ḥaqq.^[82] Aḥmad Raẓā himself shared a close bond with ʿAbd al-Qādir, such that he even composed a poem of 105 verses in his praise.^[83]

These scholarly, pedagogical, and Sufi networks within which Naqī ʿAlī and Aḥmad Raẓā operated, produced a distinctive scholarly orientation and approach. This intellectual formation helps explain the enhanced use of logic in Aḥmad Raẓā’s fatwās, to which I now turn.

 

Aḥmad Raẓā’s Use of Logic in Fatwā Argumentation

What, then, would qualify someone as a maʿqūlī in late thirteenth /nineteenth century British India? One indicator is formal study under, and intellectual association with, scholars of the maʿqūlī tradition, a criterion that Aḥmad Raẓā clearly meets, as shown above. A second, and analytically central indicator is the way arguments are constructed and presented in written works. While intellectual affiliation establishes Aḥmad Raẓā’s location within the maʿqūlī tradition, it is this pattern of argumentation that provides the primary evidence for how he operationalizes logic in his fatwās. It is therefore this indicator that forms the focus of the analysis that follows, which examines construction and deployment of arguments across Aḥmad Raẓā’s fatwās.

Before examining selected mawlid fatwās of Aḥmad Raẓā, a number of methodological clarifications are necessary. I do not argue that Aḥmad Raẓā employed logical reasoning while his opponents did not. Rather, my contention is that he represents a distinctive mode of fatwā reasoning in which logic is operationalized as an authoritative juristic tool, rather than a supplementary device. This study treats logic as supplementary when it merely reinforces a conclusion grounded independently in textual authority, and authoritative when it actively structures the derivation, scope, and conditional application of the ruling. The latter appears when reasoning drives the argument, the jurist integrates texts into that reasoning, and rulings vary according to different situations. It is this difference in the function and weight accorded to logic that distinguishes Aḥmad Raẓā’s approach from that of his opponents, a distinction this section aims to demonstrate through targeted comparison with selected fatwās issued by his opponents.

Owing to the limited scope of this paper, it was not possible to undertake a corpus-wide analysis of the mawlid-related fatwās of the scholars with whom Aḥmad Raẓā is compared. An ideal comparative framework would have involved a similar examination of the complete body of fatwās addressing the prohibition of the mawlid and its associated practices across these scholars. Such an undertaking, however, lies beyond the parameters of the present study. Despite this limitation, a meaningful comparison remains possible. By selecting representative fatwās from across Aḥmad Raẓā’s opponents this section enables a controlled comparison of argumentative strategies across different contexts and schools of thought.

It is also important to note that logic did not occupy the same curricular status within the Deobandī and Ahl-i Ḥadīs intellectual worlds that it did within the Farangī Maḥal tradition. Rashīd Aḥmad Gangohī, for instance, opposed the study of logic at Deoband, regarding it as trivial in comparison to foundational religious texts.^[84] This curricular orientation inevitably shaped the manner in which scholars deployed logic within legal reasoning.

 Nevertheless, this observation should not be read as a uniform judgment across all scholars associated with these movements. As will become evident, even within a single movement there were variations in the extent and manner in which logical reasoning was engaged. What does emerge consistently from the sampled fatwās, however, is that scholars primarily employed logic in support of the transmitted sciences, functioning as a supporting device rather than as a dominant mode of argumentation.

The key methodological question, however, is how to link the argumentative strategies deployed in these fatwās to the maʿqūlī tradition. To link these argumentative strategies to the maʿqūlī tradition, I trace them back to the logic (manṭiq) texts that formed the core of maʿqūlī instruction. Based on Robinson’s  comparison of the number of texts taught at Farangī Maḥal and at the Madrasa-i Raḥīmiyya in the early twelfth/eighteenth century, one rational discipline stands out clearly: logic (eleven texts versus two).^[85] As Asad Q. Ahmed  demonstrates, this heightened emphasis on logic continued well into Aḥmad Raẓā’s time.^[86] Biographical accounts of Aḥmad Raẓā further suggest that he had engaged with several advanced works in logic.^[87] Moreover, he authored commentaries on logical texts such as Mullā Jalāl, further reinforcing his strong orientation toward logical reasoning.^[88]

To systematically assess the application of logical reasoning, I evaluate fatwās using four criteria derived from classic syllogistic reasoning: (1) structural organization, (2) use of connectives, (3) incorporation of supporting texts (e.g., the Qurʾān, ḥadīth, and fiqh), and (4) treatment of multiple scenarios versus single rulings. These criteria were selected from a sample advanced logic text, Sullam al-ʿUlūm (The Ladder of the Sciences),^[89] which was taught at the Farangī Maḥal.^[90] The Madrasa-i Raḥīmiyya did not include this text in its curriculum.^[91] Its use as a reference allows me to demonstrate that Aḥmad Raẓā’s reasoning reflects systematic application of logical principles rather than mere reading of texts. This curricular distinction is significant. The Sullam al-ʿUlūm also addresses additional topics on logic such as definitions, propositions, modals, and rhetoric. These topics are either covered to a certain extent within the selected criteria or excluded because they cannot be consistently observed in actual fatwās. Therefore, the four criteria focus on forms of logical reasoning that are both clearly observable in the fatwā texts and directly involved in shaping legal rulings.

I assess the application of logical reasoning based on a six-point scale (0–5), where 0 indicates non-existent reasoning and 5 indicates the highest level. This scale enables a more precise criteria for measuring the usage of logic. The specific criteria assessed are structural organization, use of logical connectives, reliance on supporting texts, and treatment of multiple scenarios.

Structural organization ranges from simple assertions to fully articulated syllogisms with clearly identifiable major premises, minor premises, and conclusions. The use of connectives tracks the clarity and density of inferential links, distinguishing between minimal connectors (e.g., words such as "and"), weak connectors (e.g., the word "otherwise"), and clearly marked logical relations (e.g., "if … then"). The supporting-texts criterion measures the balance between transmitted sources and independent reasoning, while the multiple-scenarios criterion captures the extent to which objections, distinctions, and alternative cases are anticipated and addressed. Table 2 presents the pointers for each criterion.

Table 2: Criteria for assessing the application of logical reasoning in the mawlid fatwās

Logic criteria	0	1	2	3	4	5
Structural organization	Assertion only	Text to ruling (implicit)	Single principle applied	Implied syllogism	Clear rule to case to ruling	Explicit setup as major premise, minor premise, and conclusion
Use of connectives	None	Minimal	Weak connectors	One clear connector	Two clear connectors	More than two clear connectors
Supporting texts	Pure citations	Texts dominant	Mostly text plus one principle	Balanced	Mostly reasoning	No texts
Multiple scenarios	No objections handled	None shown	One distinction	Two distinctions	Three distinctions	More than three distinctions

 

The appendix includes the detailed results. Around 38% of the fatwās scored 4 or higher, with eight fatwās achieving a perfect score of 5 across all criteria, demonstrating Aḥmad Raẓā’s skill as a logician. The mean score of 3.23 and median score of 3.0 together indicate that moderate-to-high levels of logical reasoning are not exceptional and are embedded across the fatwās. Furthermore, conceptually abstract issues such as the qiyām, Prophetic presence, and permissibility constitute 26% of the total corpus, while they account for 36.4% of the highest-scoring fatwās (scores of 4 or above). This disproportionate representation suggests that issues marked by conceptual ambiguity or theological sensitivity tend to produce more explicit and structured logical reasoning.

Another trend emerges when the fatwās are divided into two chronological phases: prior to 1334/1915 and after 1334/1915. The mean logic score rises from 2.90 in the period 1299–1333/1881–1914 to 3.30 in 1334–39/1915–21, with the median increasing from 3.0 to 3.5. This shift suggests not a random increase, but a consolidation of a rationalist method over time. Notably, the proportion of fatwās addressing deniers, Wahhābīs, and Deobandīs nearly doubles, from 10% in the earlier period to 19.4% in the later one. This rise in polemical engagement corresponds with the rise in logical reasoning, indicating that increased doctrinal contestation contributed to more explicit rational argumentation.

Accordingly, analysis of the complete corpus of 116 mawlid-related fatwās indicates that Aḥmad Raẓā systematically and extensively deploys logical reasoning to defend the mawlid, endorsing certain practices while explicitly rejecting others.

The next section substantiates this conclusion by examining a selected set of representative fatwās, analyzing the logical structures and argumentative techniques through which Aḥmad Raẓā articulates and justifies his rulings.

 

On Permissibility of the Mawlid

Aḥmad Raẓā’s principal argument in support of the permissibility of the ritual rests on the claim that it is not explicitly prohibited. In response to a petition from the Assistant Secretary of the Ahl-i Ḥadīs association of Amritsar on providing proof in support of the mawlid from the Qurʾān, ḥadīth, and fiqh, Aḥmad Raẓā’s main line of argument is clear and succinct: it has not been explicitly deemed prohibited. According to him, the scriptures or recognized books of fiqh provide no proof prohibiting the celebration of the mawlid.^[92] This hermeneutical stance aligns with what Tareen  identifies as a core principle in Aḥmad Raẓā’s legal reasoning: A practice can only be deemed impermissible through a conclusive proof text (naṣṣ-i qaṭʿī), otherwise the default value was that of permissibility (ibāḥat).^[93] Aḥmad Raẓā’s response to the Amritsar petition thus operates squarely within this framework, shifting the burden of proof onto his opponents by demanding a decisive textual basis for prohibition rather than supplying evidence of explicit authorization.

This approach sharply distinguishes Aḥmad Raẓā from his opponents, who maintain that anything not explicitly designated as permissible by the Qurʾān, ḥadīth, and accepted practices of the first three centuries of Islam is not allowed. Furthermore, if the original (aṣl) ruling for something is permissibility, then that ruling remains applicable. A ruling of prohibition or impermissibility applies only to the reprehensible matters that become associated with it. Thus, giving the example of unauthentic and fabricated narrations being recited in mawlid gatherings in India, he states that this will not change the original ruling of permissibility.^[94] In his response, Aḥmad Raẓā engages in a form of compound syllogism,^[95] which was heavily used by Faẓl-i Ḥaqq Khairābādī and scholars associated with him to argue against Shāh Ismāʿīl’s views on God’s omnipotence.^[96] The presence of such structured logical reasoning underscores that Aḥmad Raẓā’s defense of the mawlid is not merely rhetorical or devotional but firmly anchored in the maʿqūlī tradition.

A useful comparison can be drawn with one of Ṣiddīq Ḥasan Khān’s fatwās endorsed by Rashīd Aḥmad Gangohī.^[97] In this ruling, the prohibition of the mawlid rests on a single premise: it was not observed during the first three centuries of Islam, and no scriptural evidence supports it. The conclusion follows: the practice is an innovation (bidʿa). Here, logic is employed in a basic, linear fashion from premise to conclusion without layering or qualification. Gangohī’s endorsement reinforces this simplicity; he states that such gatherings are impermissible and attending them is sinful; if someone calls out to the Prophet with the belief that he is present and observing (ḥāẓir o nāz̤ir), this constitutes disbelief (kufr). The reasoning is minimal and categorical, with no anticipatory handling of objections or secondary considerations.

By contrast, Aḥmad Raẓā consistently structures his arguments in multi-step syllogisms, qualifying premises and anticipating challenges. For instance, he explicitly maintains that the original ruling of permissibility remains applicable even when reprehensible elements appear in practice, thereby preserving the act’s legitimacy while addressing potential objections. This multi-step and qualified reasoning demonstrate his advanced and distinctive use of logic compared to the basic linear approach of Ṣiddīq Ḥasan Khān and Gangohī. A key difference between Aḥmad Raẓā and the Deobandī scholars was that, even when some corrupt or reprehensible practices were associated with the mawlid, Aḥmad Raẓā maintained that the scholars had no authority to stop the ritual itself. Both Sajjad and Tareen  make this observation.^[98] I would take this a step further by arguing that Aḥmad Raẓā’s distinctive approach lay in his systematic separation of the original ruling (aṣl) from the secondary or contingent aspects of the practice (farʿ). This separation was achieved through a precise form of logical reasoning using defined concepts and qualified premises to determine which aspects of the practice are legally essential and which are contingent. By isolating the core permissibility of the ritual from problematic additions, he could identify and address objections while still defending the practice. This method of drawing out underlying principles and using them to justify the ritual represents the primary logical and methodological difference between Aḥmad Raẓā and the Deobandī scholars.

 

Using Scripture through Logic in Legal Reasoning

In a significant proportion of his fatwās (25%), Aḥmad Raẓā does not refer to scripture at all, which itself indicates reliance on other modes of argumentation, most notably logical reasoning. In the majority (75%) of his mawlid fatwās in which he cites supporting sources, he refers to the Qurʾān and ḥadīth in 44% and 37% of these cases, respectively.^[99] This underscores the centrality of scripture in his reasoning. Crucially, however, Aḥmad Raẓā does not invoke scripture as isolated proof texts; rather, he incorporates it into a structured logic-based argumentative process that proceeds from the absence of explicit prohibition to a legal conclusion of permissibility. For instance, there are three verses that he frequently quotes from the Qurʾān, the first two being:

Say: In the bounty (faḍl) of Allah and in His mercy: therein let them rejoice. It is better than what they hoard. (Qurʾān 10:58)^[100]

Therefore of the bounty (niʿma) of thy Lord be thy discourse. (Qurʾān 93:11)^[101]

Aḥmad Raẓā quotes each of these in six separate fatwās, and for him the "bounty" of God is the Prophet, and this should be declared and rejoiced in; what better way than through the mawlid? In the first verse, exegetes have interpreted the bounty of God to be the Qurʾān, and "mercy" as referring to either Islam or the Prophet, while bounty in the second verse has had a wide range of interpretations ranging from the Qurʾān, Prophethood, or guidance, to any blessing in general.^[102] In addition, Aḥmad Raẓā quotes the following verse:

That ye (mankind) may believe in Allah and His messenger, and may honour Him, and may revere Him, and may glorify Him at early dawn and at the close of day. (Qurʾān 48:09)^[103]

Exegetes have interpreted this verse in different ways; either it relates to honoring and revering God or it applies to the Prophet instead.^[104] Aḥmad Raẓā prefers the latter reading.^[105] Accordingly, he selects an interpretation as his premise that will lead to him conclude the permissibility of the mawlid. For Aḥmad Raẓā the mawlid is a way of honoring and revering the Prophet. As per Aḥmad Raẓā, these Qurʾānic verses have general applicability and one should not restrict these verses to a specific time period, such as to the first three centuries of Islam, or to certain acts and practices only.^[106] Coincidentally, in Aḥmad Raẓā’s fatwā to the Ahl-i Ḥadīs association of Amritsar, his fourth verse from the Qurʾān and accompanying statement are as follows: 

Allah the Great says: And whatsoever the messenger giveth you, take it. And whatsoever he forbiddeth, abstain (from it). (Qurʾān 57:7)[107] If the Wahhabīs can provide proof that somewhere the Majestic Qurʾān or the exalted ḥadīths disallow the blessed mawlid gathering, then a reward of 40 rupees.^[108]

Here he uses scriptural syllogism to convert Qurʾānic silence into certainty, showcasing his textual-to-logical or scriptural-to-rational deployment.

From the ḥadīth literature, the texts Aḥmad Raẓā most often quotes are the authoritative collections of Bukhārī (thirteen times), Muslim (eleven times), and Abū Dāwūd (ten times), and he deploys these texts in a similar manner. This also indicates his concern for using sources that provoked minimum disagreement amongst the scholars of his time when setting up his premises. Although Aḥmad Raẓā was a Sufi shaykh, he only refers to eight Sufi texts in the mawlid fatwās.^[109] These references include al-Ghazālī’s (d. 505/1111) Iḥyāʾ ʿulūm al-dīn and Kimiyā-e saʿādat, and al-Zabīdī’s (d. 1205/1790) Itḥāf al-sāda al-muttaqīn, a commentary on the Iḥyāʾ, which is quoted seven times, while the rest of the Sufi texts are referred to only once. The Itḥāf is mainly used as a source of ḥadīths rather than views of the Sufis, reinforcing that for Aḥmad Raẓā not all sources are equal in terms of their importance for the argument and they are leveraged in different ways in support of his reasoning.

Most of his sources (56% in 49 fatwās) are from fiqh texts. The most frequently cited fiqh manuals are Ḥanafī texts: ʿAlā al-Dīn al-Ḥaskafī’s (d. 1088/1677) al-Durr al-mukhtār sharḥ Tanwīr al-abṣār (fourteen times) and Ibn ʿĀbidīn’s (d. 1252/1836) commentary on it titled Radd al-Muḥtār ʿalā al-Durr al-Mukhtār (eighteen times), and al-Fatāwā al-Hindiyya (10 times) composed under the Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb’s (d. 1118/1707) patronage. Aḥmad Raẓā appears to not only rely on Ḥanafī manuals that were closer to his time but also those which were accepted and referred to by his main counterparts, the Deobandīs.^[110]

From the perspective of logic, this source selection functions as a form of argument from shared premises. By grounding his legal reasoning in authorities that his opponents themselves accepted as reliable, Aḥmad Raẓā constrained the range of objections and shifted the dispute from questions of textual authority to the conclusions logically followed from those shared texts. In this sense, his reliance on these works reflects a conscious logical strategy, structuring the debate in a way that rendered dismissal on epistemic grounds logically untenable.

As a related observation, this concern for using sources that would be accepted as valid by his contemporaries supports Sajjad’s characterization that Aḥmad Raẓā operates as a legalist (as opposed to a Sufi), and that the mawlid is an Islamic ritual for him.^[111] It also confirms that his target audience was mainly the Ḥanafī Sunnī  Muslims of the Indian subcontinent. At the same time, I would argue that Aḥmad Raẓā’s method exceeds legalism alone. His sustained emphasis on shared premises, controlled inference, and argumentative constraint reveals him to be operating as a logician within the legal tradition, rather than merely as a jurist invoking authority; someone I would refer to as a "juristic logician."

This characterization is based on an analysis of Aḥmad Raẓā’s mawlid-related fatwās and should be understood within that scope. Nevertheless, these fatwās frequently extend beyond the mawlid itself, on topics such as lawful food and income, inheritance, relations with non-Muslims, and intra-Muslim disagreement. The appearance of the same forms of premise qualification and inferential control in these discussions suggests that this mode of reasoning is not confined to ritual polemics alone but arguably reflects a broader pattern in his juristic practice.

 

Secondary Practices in the Mawlid

Aḥmad Raẓā’s logical method is most visible in cases where he explains which parts of the mawlid are essential and which are secondary, without relying heavily on Qurʾānic or ḥadīth citations. One such cluster of rulings concerns practices commonly associated with the mawlid but not constitutive of it, such as the distribution of sweets or food and the compensation of reciters. For Aḥmad Raẓā, it is not mandated that an attendee should take their share of sweets unless there is a risk that the organizer might feel personally offended. Furthermore, the distribution of sweets does not have to be equal if it is a regional custom, for example, for a young person to receive half of an adult’s share, or more generally if the recipients do not consider it insulting.^[112] In this specific fatwā, where his response is based on pure reasoning, Aḥmad Raẓā treats the distribution of sweets or food as an accidental (non-essential) attribute of the mawlid rather than a constitutive requirement. He grounds this judgment in a prior definition of the ritual’s essence as the remembrance (dhikr) of the Prophet. From this major premise, he derives several qualified rulings: participation in the distribution is not obligatory, and refusal to accept one’s share is permissible, except in cases where such refusal would result in personal offense to the host. He further extends this reasoning to the question of unequal distribution, allowing it when supported by established custom (ʿurf) or when no perception of insult arises among recipients.

The same inferential structure governs his rulings on compensating mawlid reciters. Aḥmad Raẓā also deems it impermissible for a reciter to obtain compensation for a mawlid recital. This is because they are performing an act of worship, and it is ḥarām (prohibited) to obtain compensation for such deeds (major premise).^[113] Extending this reasoning, if the reciter is invited to have food after the event and the food is deemed as compensation for him, then this is impermissible as well. However, if the food or meal is offered by general invitation to everyone and not specifically to the reciter, and if they are not given a more significant portion or an exceptional tidbit, then the reciter is allowed to take it.^[114] This ruling of impermissibility is consistent across most of his fatwās on the subject.

However, in one specific fatwā, the petitioners highlight a practice in Bengal whereby mawlid reciters are compensated after the ritual. There is no prior agreement between the two parties on the time and compensation, but since it is a common practice, it is expected. Here Aḥmad Raẓā concludes that as the reciters are led by common practice to expect something at the end, this is impermissible. Here again, logic drives the conclusion; expectation generated by custom renders the act analogous to pre-agreed compensation.

At the same time, Aḥmad Raẓā displays sensitivity to local conditions by outlining two scenarios (multiple scenario handling) in which remuneration would be acceptable. In the first, the two parties expressly declare beforehand that neither will the reciters accept any compensation for the recital nor will the organizers compensate them. Any voluntary compensation by the organizer at the end is then permissible since there was no expectation or prior agreement specific to the recital. In the second, the organizers hire the reciters as labor for a fixed rate and time. They can then utilize them as they deem fit, and thus the compensation is not tied to their mawlid recital.^[115]

These solutions might appear to be "creative" techniques employed by the muftī to avoid the prohibition of compensation pertaining to mawlid recitals. However, they do highlight the real underlying issue for Aḥmad Raẓā, which is his concern that the mawlid recital might be treated as a service or product that can be transacted and negotiated based on time and cost, even when there is no great need to do so.^[116] This case illustrates the value of examining his mawlid fatwās as a corpus as it allows one to trace the tensions and nuanced reasoning applied to the same issue across different contexts. Aḥmad Raẓā preserves a stable major premise while adjusting secondary rulings through controlled inference, offering a practical framework for regulating devotional practices without undermining their integrity. Moreover, it provides a practical model for contemporary adherents of the Barelwī movement when navigating the challenge of compensating professional reciters without compromising the devotional integrity of the ritual.

The same logic of distinguishing essence from accident also governs how Aḥmad Raẓā evaluates the correct form and limits of mawlid performance more broadly, to which I now turn.

 

Normative Models and Conditional Permissibility

For Aḥmad Raẓā, the recitation of the Qurʾān, "appropriate" poetry in praise of the Prophet but without music, distribution of sweets, illumination and decorations, and performing the qiyām were all permissible.^[117] However, he does detail the correct modalities for these practices in his fatwās, and one should not treat this as a blanket allowance. Permissibility is thus made conditional upon conformity to an established model, which was how the ritual was performed in Aḥmad Raẓā’s time in the Hijaz.^[118] Just as for Shāh ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz, whose standard for the "proper" demonstration of the ritual was defined by how it was conducted at his home, for Aḥmad Raẓā the holy cities of Mecca and Medina set the bar.^[119] In both cases, permissibility is determined through a form of analogical reasoning in which contemporary practice is measured against an accepted normative precedent. 

In Mecca, the mawlid was not only held throughout the year in homes but also specifically on the eleventh and twelfth days of Rabīʿ al-Awwal,^[120] when a grand mawlid was held in the Holy Mosque involving, amongst other practices, sermons on the Prophet, recitations of poetry and mawlid texts, feasts, lighting, and dhikr.^[121] In the Islamic tradition, the word dhikr has multiple meanings depending upon the context in which it is used.^[122] Aḥmad Raẓā considers the mawlid to be the dhikr of the Prophet. He then makes the next logical move in his argument: since remembrance of the Prophet constitutes remembrance of God, it must be permissible.^[123] This is because, for him, the Prophet is not separate from God, and a matter (muʿāmala) relating to the Prophet effectively relates to God.^[124]

A contrasting mode of reasoning appears in a fatwā addressed to Rashīd Aḥmad Gangohī. The petitioner cites Shāh Walī Allāh al-Dihlawī’s reported spiritual experience of witnessing angels present in Mecca on the Prophet’s birthday, apparently coinciding with a mawlid gathering. Gangohī responds by denying any normative significance to the event. He argues that the occurrence was coincidental; it happened to coincide with the Prophet’s birthday, people happened to be present at the place of birth, and they engaged in his remembrance without prior planning, organization, illumination, or the distribution of sweets.^[125] Here, Gangohī does not construct a formal syllogism or present a precedent to establish permissibility. Instead, he relies on basic rational explanation (ʿaql) to neutralize the evidentiary value of the report by reframing it as accidental rather than intentional. Logic, in this case, functions primarily as a tool of negation and refutation, used to deny that an isolated occurrence can serve as a legal or ritual proof. The contrast is therefore not between the presence and absence of reasoning, but between different deployments of logic. Aḥmad Raẓā uses logic constructively whereas Gangohī employs logic defensively.

For Aḥmad Raẓā, it is permissible to stop someone from attending a mawlid if it is not free from reprehensible and prohibited practices.^[126] This position rests on a conditional distinction: the permissibility of the mawlid depends on its proper performance. However, if someone declares one who practices the ritual as destined for hell, then for Aḥmad Raẓā such a person is himself destined for hell.^[127]

In another fatwā, he states that in India the only group of people to deny the mawlid’s permissibility are the Wahhābīs^[128]—an umbrella term he uses for the Deobandīs and Ahl-i Ḥadīs.^[129] Elsewhere, he argues that those who prevent people from actions that have not been expressly prohibited by the Qurʾān and ḥadīth are innovators themselves.^[130] His logical move here is consistent, i.e., denying permissibility in the absence of prohibition constitutes an unjustified innovation (bidʿa).

Extending this reasoning further, Aḥmad Raẓā maintains that not only are certain scholars of the Deobandīs and Ahl-i Ḥadīs disbelievers; so too are their followers who, despite becoming aware of their scholars’ alleged statements of kufr, still view them as Muslims. For him, it is not surprising that his opponents are deniers of the "essence" (nafs) of the mawlid since they are deniers of the essence of the Prophet.^[131] In Aḥmad Raẓā’s heightened Prophetology, the Prophet is conceived as the center of the universe and its reason for existence.^[132] This serves as a foundational premise in his thought and all subsequent conclusions about permissible practice, ritual, and belief flow from this starting point. In this light, disregarding alternative views, let alone accepting them, would be not only theologically unacceptable but also logically incoherent, since any challenge would contradict the first premise on which his entire argumentative framework rests.

 

Logical Reasoning and the Qiyām

On the correct modalities for performing the qiyām, Aḥmad Raẓā states that it should be undertaken at the time of the recital of the Prophet’s birth. His reasoning is that this moment constitutes a form of dhikr (mention) marking the Prophet’s arrival into the world and is therefore the most appropriate moment for its performance.^[133] However, here Aḥmad Raẓā also addresses the correct interiorization of the practice, for a question arises about whether the Prophet arrives physically at a mawlid gathering? To this, Aḥmad Raẓā responds that no one could claim to know with certainty, for it was in the Prophet’s power (ikhtiyār) to arrive should he choose to do so, but it could not be assumed for every gathering.^[134] From this, the inferential chain is clear; standing up at the end of a mawlid gathering did not imply that the Prophet had physically arrived but was only an expression of respect for him. Standing at the mention of the Prophet’s birth is thus justified as a symbolic act of respect, rather than as a theological claim about presence.

Another Ahl-i Ḥadīs scholar Naẓīr Ḥussain, by contrast, adopts a far more compressed line of reasoning. In one of his fatwās on the qiyām, he declares that performing it at the mention of the Prophet’s birth constitutes an innovation and is therefore impermissible. He further maintains that if this is undertaken with the belief that the Prophet is present and observing the gathering then it amounts to disbelief.^[135]

The contrast between the two approaches is instructive. Aḥmad Raẓā’s fatwā demonstrates a higher degree of logical engagement through his systematic separation of premises, his anticipation of potential objections, and his careful delimitation of what the practice does and does not entail. By separating the act of qiyām from claims about physical presence, he preserves its permissibility through controlled inference. Although Naẓīr Ḥussain does distinguish between the outward act and the belief attached to it, his analysis remains relatively compressed. The ruling moves directly from classification to judgment, with limited attention to intermediate distinctions or alternative interior states. This difference highlights Aḥmad Raẓā’s more rigorous deployment of logical reasoning in navigating contested ritual practices.

In contrast, one of Ashraf ʿAlī Thānvī’s fatwās addressing the qiyām illustrates his own engagement with logical reasoning, particularly through the use of compound syllogisms to challenge the purpose of the practice.^[136] The fatwā, structured as a seven-point response, addresses various practices associated with the mawlid, including ignorant speakers, fabricated narrations, extravagance, treating a specific date as religiously necessary, and other matters. For the first five points, Thānvī supports his conclusions by citing from the Qurʾān or ḥadīth. However, when addressing the qiyām in point six, he shifts entirely to logical argumentation, relying on inference rather than textual proof.

Thānvī establishes his premises by considering the beliefs of those who perform the qiyām: some believe that the Prophet is present and observing the gathering. From this, he reasons that if the Prophet is thought to have independent knowledge or power, it constitutes shirk (polytheism). Conversely, if this belief is not held, then the act is a falsehood against God and His Messenger. He further accounts for the alternative belief that angels are present, prompting participants to stand in respect. Thānvī then engages in a series of logical counterarguments, systematically questioning the internal consistency of these beliefs:

1. Angels are always present with individuals, so why single out the dhikr gathering?


2. Even if restricted to the dhikr gathering, why restrict it to the mawlid?


3. If limited to the mawlid, why specifically at the mention of the Prophet’s birth?


4. If the act is performed solely out of respect for the dhikr of the Prophet’s birth, why not stand on other occasions when it is mentioned?

Through these steps, Thānvī demonstrates internal coherence in argumentation, testing each assumption against logical consequences. He ultimately concludes that the practice is pointless and frivolous, having subjected the belief structures supporting it to rigorous analytical scrutiny.

From a logic perspective, this fatwā exemplifies structured compound reasoning: Thānvī identifies premises, considers multiple possible internal beliefs, anticipates objections, and traces the implications of each premise to reach a conclusion. A comparison to Aḥmad Raẓā’s fatwās highlights important differences in method and depth of reasoning. In his mawlid fatwās, Aḥmad Raẓā consistently employs multi-layered compound syllogisms, linking multiple premises, textual sources, and consequences to justify permissibility while preemptively addressing objections. Thānvī’s argument is logically sound but narrower in scope, structured to expose contradictions rather than to construct a positive, defensible normative conclusion. Thānvī, in this instance, thus functions more as a refutational logician, using logic primarily to critique and negate practices.

 

Conclusion

Through my analysis of Aḥmad Raẓā’s mawlid fatwās, I was able to demonstrate that they display a distinctive style of juristic reasoning in which Aḥmad Raẓā deploys logic as an authoritative juristic tool. This contrasts with approaches in which scholars use logic as a supplementary tool to reinforce a conclusion grounded independently in textual authority. Firmly entrenched in the Farangī Maḥal trend, which placed increased emphasis on logic as necessary for the study of fiqh, Aḥmad Raẓā’s argumentation in support of the mawlid and associated practices reflects this approach.^[137] I have argued that Aḥmad Raẓā’s distinctive approach lies in his systematic separation of the original ruling from the secondary aspects of the practice. Through this, he could respond to objections while defending the core practice. By distinguishing between what is legally essential to a ritual and what is non-essential or removable, he recognized the prevalence of reprehensible practices without declaring the ritual itself impermissible. He achieved this separation through a specific form of logical reasoning that relied on clearly defined concepts and carefully qualified premises. Furthermore, as this article has shown, Aḥmad Raẓā does not ignore scripture completely and in majority of his mawlid fatwās he refers to the Qurʾān and ḥadīth. This highlights the significance of scriptural support in his reasoning. However, Aḥmad Raẓā does not invoke scripture independently and it is part of a logic-based argumentative process. 

To substantiate the above, I analyzed 116 mawlid fatwās of Aḥmad Raẓā issued between 1299/1881 and 1339/1921. I evaluated these fatwās using four criteria derived from classic syllogistic reasoning that are observable in the fatwās: structural organization, use of connectives, incorporation of supporting texts and the treatment of multiple scenarios. By scoring these on a six-point scale (0–5), and arriving at a mean score of 3.23, moderate-to-high levels of logical reasoning were observed. Moreover, issues such as the qiyām, Prophetic presence and permissibility account for a significant portion of the highest-scoring fatwās. This suggests that conceptual ambiguity issues generated more explicit and structured logical reasoning. Furthermore, the proportion of fatwās addressing his opponents nearly doubles (from 10% to 19.4%) towards the later part of his fatwā-writing career. This arguably indicates that increased polemical engagement contributed to more rational argumentation.

However, this was not only a simple increase in rational argumentation; it was also how Aḥmad Raẓā deployed logic that distinguished him from his counterparts from the Ahl-i Ḥadīs and Deobandī movements. By comparing his fatwās to selected fatwās from his rivals in the Ahl-i Ḥadīs and Deobandī movements, I demonstrate that they employ logic mainly as a supporting device, whether for refuting or negating. On the other hand, for Aḥmad Raẓā, it was a dominant mode of argumentation. Based on this, I conclude that he operates as a logician within the legal tradition: a juristic logician.

I base this characterization on an analysis of Aḥmad Raẓā’s mawlid-related fatwās and it should therefore be understood within this scope. However, as I observed, these fatwās usually extend beyond the mawlid itself, and cover other topics such as lawful food and income, inheritance, relations with non-Muslims, and intra-Muslim disagreement. The prevalence of the same forms of logical reasoning in these discussions suggests that Aḥmad Raẓā did not confine this mode of reasoning to mawlid-related polemics but rather reflects a broader consistent pattern in his juristic practice.

This study also illustrates the value of examining his complete mawlid fatwās as a corpus as it allows one to trace the tensions and nuanced reasoning applied to the same issue across different contexts. A case in point is the apparently "creative" technique used to avoid the prohibition of compensation pertaining to mawlid recitals, which might appear to be inconsistent when compared to Aḥmad Raẓā’s other rulings on the matter.

As Sanyal demonstrates, what differentiated Aḥmad Raẓā from his contemporary reformists, mainly the Deobandīs and Ahl-i Ḥadīs, was his heightened Prophetology and venerative love for the Prophet, which is clearly reflected in the argumentation and language of his mawlid fatwās.^[138] However, most of Aḥmad Raẓā’s opponents on the permissibility of the mawlid were drawn from the circle of scholars influenced by the ḥadīth-based reformist inclinations of Shāh Walī Allāh and his successors. Aḥmad Raẓā was impacted by Shāh Walī Allāh’s ḥadīth-focused approach as well.^[139] This inherent tension between the two assumptions and hermeneutical methods is one of the underlying causes for other disagreements between Aḥmad Raẓā and his contemporaries. Ahmed and Pourjavady conclude that parts of these differing traditions that is, the Farangī Maḥal and the ḥadīth-based approach of Shāh Walī Allāh, were absorbed separately by the two dominant movements in the subcontinent, that is, the Barelwī and Deobandī.^[140] I contend it is not fair to assume that there was a complete disconnect between logic and ḥadīth in Aḥmad Raẓā’s approach. As this article demonstrates, Aḥmad Raẓā synthesized the two in a unique manner and to a different degree than his counterparts. This difference in scholarly approach and methodology was one of the reasons for disagreements relating to the ritual of the mawlid in thirteenth /nineteenth century British India.

Finally, this article contributes to a broader understanding of how logical reasoning functioned as a critical device in shaping legal authority and managing ritual disagreement in colonial South Asia. Controversial practices tend to generate dense and varied forms of argumentation, as opponents utilize the full range of available juridical and intellectual tools. Aḥmad Raẓā’s mawlid fatwās illustrate this dynamic. They show how logic, when treated as authoritative rather than supportive, can preserve legal commitments and regulate practice, under intense contestation. This study of Aḥmad Raẓā’s mawlid fatwās offers a framework through which the role of the maʿqūlāt in modern Islamic legal thought can be assessed across other movements.

 

 

 

Appendix: Scoring of Logical Reasoning in the Mawlid Fatwās

Islamic dates are used here because the petitions are dated according to the Islamic calendar and for the sake of brevity. N.D. = no date given.

#	Year (ah)	Month	Day	Vol.	Pg.	Structural organization	Use of connectives	Supporting texts	Multiple scenarios	Mean score
1	1299	N.D.	N.D.	26	495	3	3	3	2	2.75
2	1301	N.D.	N.D.	23	760	5	5	3	4	4.25
3	1308	Ṣafar	21	23	116	4	4	4	5	4.25
4	1309	Rabīʿ al-Awwal	27	23	258	1	1	1	1	1
5	1311	Shaʿbān	22	23	722	3	3	4	1	2.75
6	1311	Shaʿbān	22	24	514	2	2	2	1	1.75
7	1312	Rabīʿ al-Awwal	15	23	118	1	1	1	1	1
8	1312	Rabīʿ al-Thānī	22	6	418	3	3	3	3	3
9	1313	Rabīʿ al-Thānī	27	23	723	4	4	3	5	4
10	1313	Shaʿbān	14	30	660	1	1	1	1	1
11	1314	Shawwāl	20	7	483	2	2	3	4	2.75
12	1315	Rajab	22	23	730	4	5	5	5	4.75
13	1315	Dhū al-Qaʿda	26	21	425	1	1	1	1	1
14	1316	Muḥarram	18	23	731	4	4	3	5	4
15	1316	Rabīʿ al-Awwal	16	23	732	3	3	3	4	3.25
16	1318	Jumādā al-Thāniya	27	23	604	2	2	2	2	2
17	1319	Jumādā al-Awwal	22	6	502	4	4	3	4	3.75
18	1320	Ṣafar	15	24	490	2	3	2	2	2.25
19	1320	Jumādā al-Thāniya	29	23	176	3	3	3	3	3
20	1321	Muḥarram	18	23	734	3	3	3	3	3
21	1321	Muḥarram	N.D.	24	517	3	3	2	3	2.75
22	1321	Rabīʿ al-Thānī	19	20	265	2	2	3	2	2.25
23	1321	Jumādā al-Awwal	18	23	737	4	4	4	4	4
24	1322	Rabīʿ al-Thānī	6	23	747	4	3	4	3	3.5
25	1322	Jumādā al-Thāniya	2	23	737	2	2	2	2	2
26	1322	Shaʿbān	29	23	738	4	4	3	3	3.5
27	1322	Dhū al-Ḥijja	27	23	739	3	3	3	3	3
28	1324	Rajab	24	16	129	3	3	4	3	3.25
29	1326	Jumādā al-Awwal	12	13	584	4	4	3	3	3.5
30	1330	Jumādā al-Awwal	16	10	312	3	3	3	3	3
31	1330	Jumādā al-Awwal	19	5	391	5	5	5	4	4.75
32	1331	Rabīʿ al-Thānī	6	23	744	4	4	4	3	3.75
33	1331	Jumādā al-Thāniya	17	29	214	4	4	4	4	4
34	1331	Ramaḍān	10	5	326	2	2	2	2	2
35	1331	Dhū al-Ḥijja	20	23	745	3	3	3	2	2.75
36	1332	Muḥarram	N.D.	23	745	2	2	2	1	1.75
37	1332	Ṣafar	22	6	548	3	3	3	3	3
38	1332	Ṣafar	22	20	369	3	3	3	2	2.75
39	1332	Rabīʿ al-Awwal	10	23	561	2	2	2	2	2
40	1332	Jumādā al-Thāniya	1	21	648	3	3	3	3	3
41	1334	Muḥarram	7	10	255	2	2	2	1	1.75
42	1334	Ṣafar	4	16	152	3	3	2	1	2.25
43	1334	Ṣafar	12	22	239	3	3	2	2	2.5
44	1334	Rabīʿ al-Thānī	10	23	749	2	2	2	1	1.75
45	1334	Jumādā al-Awwal	12	23	751	3	3	3	3	3
46	1334	Jumādā al-Awwal	12	19	502	4	4	3	3	3.5
47	1334	Jumādā al-Awwal	15	22	240	4	4	3	4	3.75
48	1334	Rajab	17	29	629	5	5	4	4	4.5
49	1335	Jumādā al-Awwal	27	23	753	4	4	3	3	3.5
50	1335	Shaʿbān	7	22	242	3	3	3	2	2.75
51	1335	Shaʿbān	23	23	755	3	3	3	3	3
52	1335	Shaʿbān	26	29	230	5	5	4	5	4.75
53	1335	Dhū al-Qaʿda	9	21	178	3	3	3	2	2.75
54	1336	Rabīʿ al-Awwal	19	16	450	3	3	3	2	2.75
55	1336	Rabīʿ al-Thānī	18	6	572	2	2	2	1	1.75
56	1336	Rabīʿ al-Thānī	22	21	662	3	3	2	2	2.5
57	1336	Rabīʿ al-Thānī	22	21	663	3	3	3	3	3
58	1336	Rabīʿ al-Thānī	25	9	650	4	4	4	4	4
59	1336	Jumādā al-Awwal	1	29	97	2	2	2	2	2
60	1336	Jumādā al-Awwal	12	22	245	4	4	4	3	3.75
61	1336	Jumādā al-Awwal	16	29	204	4	4	4	4	4
62	1336	Jumādā al-Awwal	21	21	663	5	5	4	5	4.75
63	1336	Jumādā al-Awwal	30	29	205	5	5	3	5	4.5
64	1336	Jumādā al-Thāniya	15	29	114	3	3	3	3	3
65	1337	Ṣafar	23	29	237	4	4	4	4	4
66	1337	Rabīʿ al-Awwal	25	14	683	4	4	4	4	4
67	1337	Rabīʿ al-Awwal	27	29	247	3	3	3	3	3
68	1337	Rabīʿ al-Awwal	27	6	578	4	4	4	4	4
69	1337	Rabīʿ al-Thānī	19	14	370	5	5	5	5	5
70	1337	Jumādā al-Awwal	3	14	685	4	4	4	4	4
71	1337	Jumādā al-Awwal	4	8	74	3	3	3	2	2.75
72	1337	Jumādā al-Awwal	7	15	299	4	4	4	4	4
73	1337	Jumādā al-Awwal	7	15	302	1	1	1	1	1
74	1337	Jumādā al-Awwal	8	15	303	3	3	3	3	3
75	1337	Jumādā al-Awwal	8	19	519	5	5	4	5	4.75
76	1337	Jumādā al-Awwal	14	29	258	4	4	4	4	4
77	1337	Jumādā al-Thāniya	15	29	267	3	3	3	3	3
78	1337	Ramaḍān	6	15	305	4	4	4	4	4
79	1337	Ramaḍān	10	26	553	4	4	4	4	4
80	1337	Ramaḍān	10	30	127	4	4	4	4	4
81	1337	Ramaḍān	16	29	282	4	4	4	4	4
82	1337	Shawwāl	11	26	553	4	4	4	4	4
83	1338	Ṣafar	10	8	600	4	4	4	4	4
84	1338	Rabīʿ al-Awwal	1	14	667	3	3	3	3	3
85	1338	Rabīʿ al-Awwal	19	19	167	3	3	3	3	3
86	1338	Ramaḍān	12	25	648	2	2	2	2	2
87	1338	Ramaḍān	14	9	597	1	1	1	1	1
88	1338	Dhū al-Ḥijja	8	23	104	1	1	1	1	1
89	1339	Muḥarram	18	14	386	5	5	4	5	4.75
90	1339	Muḥarram	20	16	253	3	3	3	3	3
91	1339	Ṣafar	28	22	691	4	4	4	4	4
92	1339	Rabīʿ al-Awwal	N.D.	15	520	2	2	2	2	2
93	1339	Rabīʿ al-Thānī	28	9	648	3	3	3	3	3
94	1339	Jumādā al-Thāniya	18	15	309	5	5	5	5	5
95	1339	Shaʿbān	9	23	757	4	4	4	4	4
96	1339	Shaʿbān	9	23	758	3	3	3	3	3
97	1339	Ramaḍān	5	8	123	4	4	4	4	4
98	1339	Ramaḍān	7	26	427	2	2	2	2	2
99	1339	Ramaḍān	8	6	586	1	1	1	1	1
100	1339	Ramaḍān	23	23	759	5	5	3	5	4.5
101	1339	Ramaḍān	29	23	409	4	4	4	4	4
102	1339	Dhū al-Qaʿda	5	9	140	4	4	4	4	4
103	N.D.	Rabīʿ al-Awwal	2	13	590	3	3	3	3	3
104	N.D.	Rabīʿ al-Thānī	20	13	594	4	4	4	4	4
105	N.D.	Jumādā al-Thāniya	18	24	489	2	2	2	2	2
106	N.D.	N.D.	N.D.	23	739	5	5	5	5	5
107	N.D.	N.D.	N.D.	21	150	5	5	5	5	5
108	N.D.	N.D.	N.D.	21	633	3	3	3	3	3
109	N.D.	N.D.	N.D.	26	405	5	5	5	5	5
110	N.D.	N.D.	N.D.	29	220	5	5	5	5	5
111	N.D.	N.D.	N.D.	29	249	5	5	5	5	5
112	N.D.	N.D.	N.D.	29	273	5	5	5	5	5
113	N.D.	N.D.	N.D.	29	591	2	2	2	2	2
114	N.D.	N.D.	N.D.	6	605	4	4	4	4	4
115	N.D.	N.D.	N.D.	19	486	3	3	3	3	3
116	N.D.	N.D.	N.D.	19	494	3	3	3	3	3