The contrast between religion and law has been continuous throughout Muslim history. Islamic law has always existed in a tension between these two God, who gave the law, and the state--the sultan--representing society and implementing the law. This tension and dynamic have created a very particular history for the law--in how it was formulated and by whom, in its theoretical basis and its actual rules, and in how it was practiced in historical reality from the time of its formation until today. That is the main theme of this book.
Knut S. Vikor introduces the development and practice of Islamic law to a wide students, lawyers, and the growing number of those interested in Islamic civilization. He summarizes the main concepts of Islamic jurisprudence; discusses debates concerning the historicity of Islamic sources of dogma and the dating of early Islamic law; describes the classic practice of the law, in the formulation and elaboration of legal rules and practice in the courts; and sets out various substantive legal rules, on such vital matters as the family and economic activity.
This is the most useful book that I have read about Islamic law and I wish that I had discovered it much earlier. If you are unfamiliar with basic concepts of Islamic law, then you may need to work slowly through this book. But, if you know the basics, you will be able to read through this at a comfortable pace. The book uses a lot of terminology, but it also provides a glossary for the terms.
Having just completed law school, I have found that law is easiest to understand if you know how it developed. This book does a very good job of explaining that development. The explanation of how the four schools of Sunni jurisprudence developed is extremely helpful. In reading about that development, one also develops a basic understanding of how the secondary sources of Islamic law (ijma, qiyas, 'aql, istihsan, istislah, etc) are applied and how their application varies among the schools. Later, the books discusses the functioning of courts and delves deeper into specific areas of law.
The book strikes an ideal balance between being comprehensive and detailed. You will find enough detail to know what direction to go in, if you want to do further research. The book uses footnotes instead of endnotes - that's always a bonus for me - and also provides a bibliography that is divided into topics. This is a very student-friendly and research-friendly book. If you know the basics of Islamic Law (you know there are 4 Sunni school; you have heard of ijma, qiyas, etc) then this is an ideal book for your to develop greater understanding of Islamic Law. I really wish that I had read this a year ago. My research and my overall understanding of the topic would have improved much earlier.
Another enjoyable introductory textbook, rather than monograph. Knut gives a good summary of the history of western scholarship of Islamic law, as well as the historical trends that influenced particular developments. He also offers an overview of the variety of sources one can use for research into the topic, as well as insight into how the different court systems and legal procedures (probably) actually operated.
Unlike the previous work, Knut comes out defending taqlīd (emulation of previous jurists’ decisions rather than invoke independent reasoning). “It is impossible to conceive of ijtihād in any functioning system of law without taqlīd; it was precisely this acceptance of the authority of the school’s rules by taqlīd that gives meaning to ijtihād. So taqlīd does not mean ‘frozen orthodoxy’ as much as loyalty to the school of law.” (161)
But in light of modern era legal reformers' (al-Afghani, Abduh, Rida…) effort to move beyond the schools of law through talfīq (following the opinion from any of the schools), and to emphasize ijtihād rather than ijmāʿ (which were seen as a conservative force), I’m not totally convinced taqlīd ought to have a hallowed place in modern jurisprudence.
Knut S. Vikør’s Between God and the Sultan is that affable dinner guest who can talk you through 1,400 years of Islamic legal history without spilling his drink.
He’ll keep you entertained, nod gravely at the heavy bits, and make sure you don’t leave confused. But unlike some of his louder cousins at the table, he won’t lean in and whisper the scandalous bits.
Next to Wael Hallaq’s The Origins and Evolution of Islamic Law, Vikør feels like the one explaining the rules of cricket to someone who’s never seen a ball before — while Hallaq is already in the stadium heckling the umpire, dissecting the rules’ philosophical DNA, and occasionally throwing in a mic drop about modernity’s corruption of the shariʿa. If Vikør smooths the path, Hallaq digs potholes so you have to think about where you’re stepping. And frankly, sometimes those potholes are where the real insights live.
Compared to Noel Coulson’s A History of Islamic Law, Vikør comes off as less of a Victorian headmaster and more of a genial tour guide. Coulson’s prose has that 1960s academic starch — informative, yes, but liable to leave you with paper cuts if you run your fingers along the margins. Vikør is softer, lighter, and more aware that you have Netflix waiting. But that accessibility comes at a cost: when Coulson, even in his dated way, bluntly notes how colonial codifications reshaped (and often distorted) shariʿa, Vikør tends to sidestep into “historical context” mode, the academic equivalent of clearing your throat until the awkwardness passes.
Where this really matters is in dealing with modern politics. Hallaq will tell you, in bold neon letters, that “Islamic law” as practised by many modern states is a Frankenstein stitched together by colonial codes, nationalist elites, and religious branding. Coulson, for all his old-school leanings, will at least admit that sultans, sheikhs, and strongmen alike have played the system for centuries. Vikør? He’ll mention it politely, as if worried the Sultan might overhear from the next table.
That’s the thing with Between God and the Sultan: it’s got a tidy metaphor that works perfectly in PowerPoint but risks making you think the whole story was a clean, dignified tug-of-war.
The reality, as both Hallaq and Coulson make messily clear, was more like a three-dimensional chess game in a room where the floor is on fire and half the players are bribing the referee. Vikør’s book is the calm aerial drone footage of that chaos — useful, panoramic, but missing the smell of the smoke.
In the Islamic law bookshelf, he’s the gateway drug: friendly, digestible, and unlikely to frighten the horses.
But once you’ve tasted Hallaq’s polemical intensity or even Coulson’s old-school bluntness, you might wish Vikør had risked more bruises in the alley fights instead of staying on the main road.