Disability in the Ottoman Arab world, 1500–1800, by Sara Scalenghe, New York,Cambridge University Press, 2014, xiv +203 pp., £55.00, US$90.00 (hardback),ISBN 978-1-10-704479-1

In spite of the advances in Disability Studies and history, there remain significantgaps in our knowledge of disability in pre-industrial societies and outside Europeand North America. The latter, argues Sara Scalenghe in this important book,amounts to a form of ‘disability imperialism’ (8) in which modern, western modelsof disability are privileged in academic studies despite some 80% of the world’sdisabled population living in the Global South. In Disability in the Ottoman ArabWorld, 1500–1800, Scalenghe challenges scholars to engage with alternative modelsof disability in a book that adds significantly to our understanding of disability inearly modern Islamic culture and society.

Until fairly recently, there has been no word for ‘disability’ in Arabic. In earliercenturies, much was written about ‘people with blights’, but these accounts do notmap easily onto modern concepts of disability, since ‘blights’ did not necessarilyrelate to a person’s capabilities or productivity. Thus, descriptions of ‘blights’incorporated characteristics such as long beards and short necks as well as morerecognisable impairments such as paralysis, blindness and hearing loss. Neverthe-less, impairment was an important issue in the early modern Ottoman Arab world(encompassing geographically the region of the Middle East corresponding to mod-ern Egypt, Palestine/Israel, Jordan, Lebanon and Syria), not least because high ratesof consanguinity led to congenital and hereditary impairments. Drawing on a richvariety of source materials, most notably legal texts and biographical dictionaries,Scalenghe discusses social, cultural, political and medical responses to these impair-ments in her book, through studies of deafness and muteness, blindness, impair-ments of the mind and, in a chapter that extends the boundaries of what disabilityhistory might encompass, intersex.

The book begins by exploring experiences of deafness and muteness, focussingin particular on mutes at the seraglio of the Ottoman court who communicatedusing sign language. Biographies of deaf men showed that although hearing lossmight be viewed as a misfortune, it did not necessarily prevent someone from par-ticipating in social and economic life. However, with the exception of mutes at thecourt, evidence is lacking for the lives of the prelingually deaf. Inability to speakmight be disabling in particular situations, particularly given the need to vocaliseprayer and indicate verbal consent in marriage. However, Scalenghe shows howIslamic scholars often took a pragmatic approach, with some arguing that prayer inthe heart was sufficient, provided that proper intent was present, and that marriagemight be consented to using writing or making a clear sign. In her study of blind-ness, Scalenghe finds little of the contempt with which the blind might be treatedin mediaeval or early modern Europe. Instead, blindness enjoyed a privileged placein hierarchies of impairment in the Arab-Islamic world, showing how there weremany attempts to integrate blind men into society. Significantly, there was little evi-dence of the notion of impairment as divine punishment due to the absence inIslam of the Christian doctrine of original sin.

The chapter on impairments of the mind compares attitudes towards four groupsof mental deficiency: idiocy, melancholia, madness and holy folly. Those sufferingfrom mental affliction were often confined within the home, but there was no Fou-cauldian ‘great confinement’ of the mentally disturbed in institutions. Whereas

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melancholia might stem from sadness, despair and environmental factors, ‘holyfolly’ was understood as a divinely favoured state that gave the majdhūb – holyfool – considerable liberty for licensed eccentricity. Holy fools convinced othersthat they had special abilities which could only come from God and, despite thedisruptive nature of their appearance and behaviour, they were accepted largelybecause people feared divine reprisals. Nevertheless, it was easier for men to adoptthe role of holy fool than women – one of many gender differences in attitudestowards impairment in the Arab-Islamic world.

The book’s most interesting chapter is the final one, which makes the case forexamining intersex as a type of impairment. High rates of consanguineous marriagewere responsible for the frequency of disorders of sexual development in the Mid-dle East. Although it is not conventional for gender ambiguity to be classed as a‘disability’ today, in a society in which almost everyone was expected to marry andhave children, physical characteristics that affected a person’s marital and reproduc-tive prospects might be disabling. In the Ottoman Arab world, the intersexed wererecognised as a distinctive human variety. There was little religious or moral dis-pleasure directed against them and they were not regarded as monsters or signs ofdivine punishment. However, the judicial authorities did make serious attempts toassign them to one sex or the other. Much like other forms of impairment, arguesScalenghe, the physical difference of the intersexed was handled ‘in a frank,straightforward manner, reflecting an attitude generally devoid of embarrassment,shame or moral opprobrium’ (161).

Disability in the Ottoman Arab World, 1500–1800 is a tremendous book thatmakes a significant contribution to our understanding of disability outside the mod-ern western, industrialised context. The text makes a powerful case for the broadlytolerant and pragmatic attitudes towards physical difference in the pre-modern Mid-dle East, at least before the spread of western-influenced institutionalisation andsocial Darwinism in the nineteenth century. Surprisingly, perhaps, there is relativelylittle in the book on the treatment of bodily deformity or mobility impairments andit is unclear how those injured in work or conflict fared in this society. Neverthe-less, the book asks many important questions and, in highlighting the importanceof ‘defects’ that might hinder marriage or reproduction as ‘disabilities’, demon-strates the need to broaden the scope of disability history in the early modern past– a point that historians of Europe and North America as well as those of the non-western world should note.

David M. TurnerSwansea University, Swansea, UK

d.m.turner@swansea.ac.uk© 2015, David M. Turner

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thought it would, including Ottoman state officials andurban religious elites, is the starting point for JamesGrehan’s richly detailed historical ethnography of every-day religion in Ottoman Syria and Palestine. Grehanargues that histories of religion, especially in the MiddleEast, have focused excessively on textual traditions.They have overemphasized the salience of religious dif-ference in everyday life, and the ability of religious insti-tutions (the main generators and guardians of textualsources) to determine everyday religious practice.Attempts to go beyond this by studying “popular reli-gion” have only helped up to a point: the dichotomybetween “popular” and official religion still grants nor-mative status to text-based orthodoxies, and cannotaccount for the prevalence of “popular” practicesamong educated urban elites.

Grehan sets out to offer a more nuanced account ofwhat he terms “agrarian religion”: everyday religiouspractice in a predominantly rural and illiterate society,where “even the towns”—and their literate elites—”were sunk in an essentially agrarian milieu” (15). Hislocal and western sources include topographies, travelnarratives, memoirs, and (for the later part of theperiod) Ottoman statistical surveys. The scholar andSufi 6Abd al-Ghani al-Nabulsi (1641–1731), whose writ-ings figure often, is a particularly genial guide.

Common to all religious traditions in Ottoman Syriaand Palestine was a weak infrastructure of sacred build-ings and educated personnel outside the towns. Otto-man state surveys from the late nineteenth century showthat mosques, churches, and synagogues, 6ulama8,priests, and rabbis were all concentrated in towns; wherevillages had them, they were large ones like Jenin orwere close to larger towns. Having established the weak-ness of institutional religion, Grehan explores the every-day religious life of the population through five thematicchapters looking at saints, tombs, sacred landscapes, thespirits that haunted the land, and the magic of bloodand prayer. The chapters focus on the countryside, butreturn often to the towns and cities whose own religiousculture was profoundly connected to that of the ruralhinterland. Sunni Islam provides the richest body of evi-dence for Grehan’s account, but there are frequentreferences to other Muslim, Christian, and Jewish com-munities. These furnish ample material to support hisargument that the lines of sectarian difference, howeversharply defined in normative religious texts, wereblurred to the point of indistinctness in daily life.

Saints, living and dead, were venerated by everyone.It was not uncommon for a holy man to be reveredbeyond his own faith community: Christians as well asMuslims would stop to kiss the hand of 6Ali al-6Umari,a renowned Sufi in nineteenth-century Tripoli (63). In alandscape where religious buildings were rare outsidetowns, the tombs of saints provided a focus for religiouspractice, both as social institutions—places of sanctuaryor mediation—and sites for worship. Different religioustraditions often shared the same sites, though theysometimes disagreed over the attribution of the tomb,and even educated townsmen like al-Nabulsi saw no

contradiction in reporting uncertainty over the identityof a tomb’s resident saint while praying at the site.Tombs were important in towns, too, like the shrine ofIbn al-6Arabi in Damascus: there was no doubt aboutthe identity of the person venerated there, though theactual site shifted over time (113).

Tombs belonged to a sacred landscape where stones,caves, springs, and trees were also imbued with religiousmeaning. Caves often became the nucleus of a churchor mosque; saints’ shrines often featured holy trees, butwhether the tomb or the tree was the original focus ofveneration remains moot. Sacred sites generated scrip-tural justifications to domesticate them within one tradi-tion or another, but nature itself was “more compellingthan scripture” (116). The spirits that haunted theselandscapes were familiar to all: talismans, charms, oricons could mediate human interactions with them, anddreams and visions grant more direct access to a spiritrealm. Blood sacrifice and prayer offered ways of gain-ing saintly intercession and not just for peasants at thelimits of the state’s reach: when the Beirut–Damascusrailroad was opened in 1895, “religious officials presided. . . with the usual sacrifices” (174).

Agrarian religion “pervaded everyday piety, paid onlylip service to orthodoxy, and casually embraced customsand beliefs that had no warrant in scripture or law”(165). Grehan’s argument for dispensing with notions of“popular” religion is persuasive; his argument againstthe salience of sectarian divisions deserves to be takenseriously, too, particularly in public rather than historio-graphical debate, though in regard to the latter, moreexplicit engagement with recent scholarship on sectari-anism (189 n. 126) would have been welcome. Thereare other points of criticism: Grehan argues that agrar-ian religion’s “immense stability” also permitted“discreet adaptation and invention” (16), but—becausehe explicitly decides not to reconstruct these patterns ofchange—the picture presented here is one of timeless-ness, though it covers two and a half centuries. Genderis not considered in any depth, nor is the survival intothe present (as I have witnessed myself) of many of thebeliefs and practices Grehan describes. On the editorialside, a list of images would have made the fine illustra-tions more accessible.

Nonetheless, this is an evocative, thought-provoking,and richly textured work. Grounded in the comparativehistory of religion as well as the history of the MiddleEast, it deserves a place on a wide range of postgradu-ate and advanced undergraduate reading lists.

BENJAMIN THOMAS WHITE

University of Glasgow

SARA SCALENGHE. Disability in the Ottoman Arab World,1500–1800. (Cambridge Studies in Islamic Civilization.)New York: Cambridge University Press, 2014. Pp. xiv,203. $90.00.

My immediate reaction on seeing the title of this bookwas that the author had set herself an impossible task.Not that the subject seemed in itself impossible, but

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rather that the materials were so scattered and fragmen-tary, and covered such a variety of literary genres, thatthere seemed little hope of combining them into a sin-gle, coherent study. It turned out that I was wrong. Theauthor has indeed scoured a vast range of primary andsecondary materials, including unpublished manuscriptsfrom libraries in Berlin, Dublin, Princeton, Cairo, Istan-bul, and Paris, and the result is anything but incoherent.The book discusses disability under four main head-ings—deafness and muteness, blindness, impairments ofthe mind, and intersex—which form the subjects of thefour central chapters. The author has found much ofthe material which forms the foundation of her study inArabic biographical works, notably the Kawakib al-Sa8ira, a biographical dictionary by the Syrian Najm al-Din al-Ghazzi (d. 1651), supplemented by other sources,including the reports of Western and non-Arab Otto-man travellers to Syria and Egypt. Sara Scalenghe hasorganized these diffuse and voluminous materialsaccording to the categories defined by her chapter head-ings, and used their anecdotes about disabled individu-als, such as the Damascene mufti Ibn al-Furfur(d.1627), struck by deafness in mid-career, and groups,such as the blind men of al-Azhar University in Cairo,to discuss their cases both with reference to the classicalIslamic medical, legal, and moral understanding of theircondition, and with reference to a modern understand-ing of disability and epidemiology. Additionally, she hasused comparative materials from Western European dis-ability history. Her classification of the material underthese general topics proves to be remarkably enlighten-ing, often in unexpected ways. As an example of howmodern epidemiology can throw light on historical phe-nomena, I had previously imagined that the surprisinglygenerous space that Muslim jurists devote to the khun-tha (hermaphrodite) to be very largely the result ofjuristic speculation—the enjoyment of a legal problemfor its own sake. However, the author’s chapter on inter-sex uses modern studies to show that hermaphroditismis in fact relatively common in the area under discus-sion, indicating that the percentage of juristic textsdevoted to hermaphroditism are more proportional toits presence in the larger public than I had thought. Asanother example, the chapter on blindness similarlyreminds us of the prevalence of trachoma in Egypt.

To understand how contemporaries in Syria andEgypt, or at least those who belonged to the intellectualelite, understood disablement, Scalenghe compares thebiographical accounts with historical medical texts,reaching the conclusion that disabilities were usuallyexplained in terms of the humoral theory of medicine.Unexpectedly, this also includes the explanation forimpairments of the mind. The standard Arabic word for“mad” is majnun, a term which implies that the personis possessed by the jinn, the unseen spirit-beings inwhich there was an almost universal belief. In medicaltheory, however, whatever the beliefs of the generalpopulace, mental problems were usually seen as arisingnot from possession by spirits, but from imbalances inthe humors, the exception being the majdhub, the “holy

fool” who gained popular acceptance, sometimes along-side the skepticism of the learned elite, through his orher apparently miraculous powers. In addition to discus-sing the medical understanding of disability, the authordevotes much space to legal questions, an essentialundertaking given that disabilities raise crucial legalissues. For example, since marriage requires a verbalconsent, can a mute conclude a marriage? Or, doesinsanity lead to permanent legal incapacity? In answer-ing such questions, the author shows, the jurists demon-strated a remarkable pragmatism: in the first case, awritten statement or a “clear sign” would imply consent;in the second, an insane person would regain legalcapacity in moments of lucidity. The tenor of the law,therefore, and indeed also of medical theory, was tointegrate the disabled into society as far as possible. Atthis point the author’s comparative material suggests aremarkable contrast with some Western European soci-eties, which often saw disablement as a punishment forsin and sometimes subjected the disabled to torments.Furthermore, since charitable giving formed an essentialelement in Muslim piety and was enshrined withinIslamic legal literature, despite suspicion of impostorsand the presence of overly aggressive beggars, the dis-abled in the Ottoman world were clearly morehumanely treated than their counterparts in ChristianEurope.

To sum up, this is a multi-layered book that handlesdifficult material and complex issues with apparent ease,to reach important conclusions. And, unlike many aca-demic books, it is a pleasure to read.

COLIN IMBER

University of Manchester

KENT F. SCHULL. Prisons in the Late Ottoman Empire:Microcosms of Modernity. Edinburgh: Edinburgh Uni-versity Press, 2014. Pp. xiii, 226. $120.00.

For decades, a critical reading of bio-power has inspiredhistorians to think in new ways about the transformationof non-Western states. Frustratingly, little has beendone to explore how the late Ottoman Empire fits intothis scholarship. Kent F. Schull seeks to address thislacuna by integrating the Ottoman experience into thelarger scholarship. Crucially, Schull not only wishes tofind parallels, but also seeks to challenge scholars’ nor-mative association of bio-power state reforms exclusivelywith “Westernization.”

The setting for Schull is a period of “Ottoman mod-ernity” extending from the Tanzimat (1838–1878) to“Young Turk” (1908–1918) eras. It is in the context ofthis well-known period that we are invited to consider inparticular the transformation of the Ottoman criminaljustice system as an extension of a more “progressive”agenda to develop the empire. Schull here adopts a val-uable contrarian angle to read his sources (mostly datedafter 1909), arguing that Ottoman prisons functionedboth as microcosms of the larger transformations associ-ated with this period and as crucial indicators of theempire’s unique relationship with modernity (42–66). In

1998 Reviews of Books

AMERICAN HISTORICAL REVIEW DECEMBER 2015

Sara Scalenghe. Disability in the Ottoman Arab World, 1500-1800. Cambridge Studies in Islamic Civilization Series.Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014. 220 pp. $90.00 (cloth), ISBN 978-1-107-04479-1; $32.99 (paper), ISBN978-1-107-62279-1.

Reviewed by John Little (American University)

Published on H-Disability (January, 2016)

Commissioned by Iain C. Hutchison

Even an exhaustive study of disability literaturedemonstrates a heavy focus on modern Western Euro-pean and North American history. For this reason alone,Sara Scalenghe’s Disability in the Ottoman Arab World,1500-1800 is worthy of attention. She sets no easy task forherself; she is “interested in recovering and documentingthe lived experiences of people who had impairments” inthe early modern Ottoman Arab world (p. 10). Using bio-graphical dictionaries, chronicles, travelogues, and legaland medical texts, in addition to dream manuals, belles-lettres, and anecdotal writings, Scalenghe puts togetheran intriguing portrait of Ottoman conceptions of disabil-ity and the people who lived with impairments.

Each of the four main chapters deals with a partic-ular impairment: deafness and muteness, blindness, im-pairments of the mind, and intersex, and each follows asimilar pattern, making Scalenghe’s research easily ac-cessible to researchers interested in particular impair-ments. Three of these chapters begin with anecdotes,followed by definitions, and then an examination of howthese perceived impairments were or were not consid-ered disabilities in the Ottoman Arab world. Through-out her monograph, Scalenghe chooses her words verycarefully, defining not only unfamiliar Arabic or Turk-ish words but also the terminology she employs. Sheuses the social model of disability, maintaining a care-ful distinction between impairments—physical or mentalabnormalities as defined by Ottoman society—and dis-ability, or “the systemic societal response to perceivedimpairments” (p. 10). These clarifications are invaluablein the context of Scalenghe’s work, particularly in herfourth chapter on intersex.

In the first chapter, which addresses deafness andmuteness, Scalenghe argues that deafness, particularlypostlingual deafness, was not necessarily a disability.

Deafness was a misfortune, but not “an insuperable im-pediment to participation in social and economic life. Theinability to speak, on the other hand, was by all indica-tions just such an impediment” (p. 33). The disabling so-cial factor of muteness was that someone with impairedspeech was limited when participating in religious andlegal activities. Nonverbal believers were unable to func-tion as imams, even if they were the most intelligent peo-ple in the room. Marriage and divorce were permitted forthe deaf and mute, and a man could act as a mufti “if hecan write or if his signs can be understood” (p. 50). Al-though a source of distress, deafness alone was not nec-essarily a disability. However, muteness was—with im-portant consequences for the nonverbal.

Like deafness, blindness in the earlymodernOttomanArab world was so prevalent that it was the subject ofremarks by both Ottoman officials and travelers to theempire. After an anecdotal introduction, Scalenghe ex-plains the different Arabic words for blindness. At nopoint do these words imply lessened mental abilities, andone (baṣīr) refers to “sighted,” but seeing with the heartand mind, rather than the eyes (pp. 60-61). Blind peoplewere often treated the same as sighted individuals in legalmatters, though crucial differences remained, the mostimportant of whichwas that the testimony of a blindmanrelied solely on sound, which made his evidence hearsay,and thus inadmissible in court.

Scalenghe’s third chapter, “Impairments of the Mind,”begins with definitions rather than anecdotes, examiningthe disabling nature of mental illness—melancholia, mad-ness, and “holy folly”—in the Ottoman Empire. All of theschools of Islamic law agreed that individuals without thecapacity for reason held no personal responsibility beforethe law. They were considered minors, were not requiredto follow religious tenets, and were not allowed to testify

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in court. Guardians handled their legal affairs, but indi-viduals regained their full rights “in periods of lucidity”(pp. 117-118). Of all of Scalenghe’s research, this chap-ter presents perhaps the closest parallel to Western prac-tices regarding disability, highlighting the infantilizationof people with mental illness and their lack of agency inlegal matters.

Legal issues predominate throughout Scalenghe’swork with good reason. Disability as a social constructrelies on demonstrating how people with impairmentswere included or excluded. Thus, her chapter on inter-sex is particularly enlightening. Ambiguous genitaliawere not viewed with fear or revulsion, and the ques-tion of male or female was often answered by the time achild reached maturity. Scalenghe outlines the multipleways in which an individual’s biological sex was deter-mined and makes it clear that biological sex in the earlymodern Ottoman Empire assigned a specific gender. Itwas advantageous—and generally preferred—if that gen-der was male, due to the privileges accorded by Islamiclaw. Regardless, transitions or continued indeterminacywere accepted rather easily. Scalenghe notes only one ex-ception: Muhammad b. Salama al-Nabulusi’s wife, whoclaimed to be a khuntha (intersex), was discovered to be aboy rather than a girl, but the negative social reaction ap-pears to be because the boy was an imposter rather thana khuntha.

Disability in the Ottoman Arab World contains botha conclusion and an epilogue. Scalenghe concludes thatthe Ottoman approach to disability was “relatively be-nign” because Ottoman Arab society sought “a balancebetween the rights and duties of the individual and theinterest of the community” (p. 164). In her epilogue,Scalenghe quickly outlines how the approach to disabil-ity in the Arab world changed due to its experiences withcolonialism, the Ottoman reform movement, industrial-ization, and Christian missionaries in the twentieth cen-tury.

Throughout her monograph, Scalenghe refers to thehumoral medical tradition and its influence over the un-derstanding of impairments. Whether it was deafness,blindness, mental illness, or intersex, the body’s humorswere out of balance. Islam lacks the concept of originalsin, so impairments were not attributed to God and werenot considered punishments or gifts. The exception washoly fools, who were greeted with a great deal of rever-ence from all levels of society. Deafness, blindness, men-tal illness, and intersex were otherwise only occasionallydisabling.

One potential reason that these impairments didnot automatically equal disability was their prevalence.Scalenghe employs a wide variety of sources, from smallvillages to the sultan’s court, that reference impairments.Impairments were so prevalent that jurists, muftis, andforeign visitors repeatedly referenced them in their per-sonal and public records. She highlights examples frombeyond Ottoman borders to emphasize the differencesbetween the empire and Western Europe.

Where contemporary Europe appears, it is to empha-size the differences between Western Europe and the Ot-toman Empire in the perception and inclusion of peoplewith disabilities. Overall, Scalenghe does an excellent jobof balancing the European foreign and Ottoman domes-tic, using predominantly Ottoman sources. Foreign, inother words, Western European, sources are used spar-ingly and are very critically “the Other” in Scalenghe’snarrative. This is not to say that Ottoman sources do nothave their weaknesses: Scalenghe readily addresses theshortcomings of the travelogues, legal texts, and anec-dotal references she employs. Most obvious is the gen-eral focus on men, not only because the available sourcesrefer almost exclusively to men, but also because, asScalenghe explains in her chapter on intersex, the Ot-toman understanding of humoral theory allowed for onlyone sex, with men as a perfect form and women as animperfect form. The European concept of sexual dimor-phism did not exist in the Ottoman Empire.

These explanations of concepts and terminology areextremely useful, but there are some questions about con-notations. Scalenghe asserts that there are no implica-tions of reduced mental faculties in the chapter on deaf-ness and muteness, nor in the chapter on blindness. Arethere any implications of fear? Did any of the OttomanTurkish or Arabic words or phrases suggest fear of dis-ability through impairment, as we find in many Westernsources in the early modern era?

Additionally, Scalenghe refers toWestern Europe, butnot Ottoman Europe or Eastern Europe. How does thenarrative change when Islamic jurisprudence is com-pared to Orthodox Christian traditions in the empire? Asthere were large concentrations of Orthodox Christianand Jewish populations throughout the Ottoman Empire,were there conflicts between these groups based on con-ceptions of disability? Was it advantageous for a deaf,blind, mentally impaired, or intersex person to beMuslimrather than Orthodox or Jewish? It would undoubtedlybe difficult to piece together these sources, but these ex-periences would provide an even more revealing picture

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of the lives of those who lived with impairments in themultiethnic, multireligious Ottoman Empire.

Disability in the Ottoman Arab World offers uniqueperspectives on both Ottoman history and disability his-tory. It challenges preconceived and Western-conceived

notions about disability in the early modern period, de-tailing complex societal relationships in an underex-plored discipline. It is an enjoyable read, and Scalenghe’swriting ensures sophisticated ideas are easily under-stood, whether one is an expert or beginner in Ottomanor disability studies.

If there is additional discussion of this review, you may access it through the network, at:

https://networks.h-net.org/h-disability

Citation: John Little. Review of Scalenghe, Sara, Disability in the Ottoman Arab World, 1500-1800. H-Disability,H-Net Reviews. January, 2016.

URL: http://www.h-net.org/reviews/showrev.php?id=43489

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

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