How Orality and Shared Cultural Context Shape the Nature of the Quran

 

How Orality and Shared Cultural Context  Shape the Nature of the Quran

 

Adis Duderija

For over a millennium, the Quran has resonated across continents and cultures, its verses shaping the lives of billions. Yet, to truly grasp the nature of this profound text, we must move beyond the static image of the written word and immerse ourselves in the vibrant world of its genesis: a world steeped in orality and defined by a shared cultural understanding. George Archer’s “The Prophet’s Whistle: Late Antique Orality, Literacy, and the Quran” offers a compelling lens through which to understand the Quran not merely as a book, but as a dynamic oral performance deeply interwoven with the social, cognitive, and technological landscape of its time.

Archer’s work underscores a fundamental truth often overlooked in contemporary engagement with the Quran: it was “made to be said, not read”. As William A. Graham, cited by Archer, aptly states, “in Muslim piety...the written word of its scripture has always been secondary to a strong tradition of oral transmission and aural presence of scripture that far surpasses that of Judaic or Christian usage”. The very term “Quran” (qurʾān) itself signifies a “recitation,” a “recital”. Its substance is fundamentally sound, existing “in the air regardless of whether or not it is on the page”. This inherent orality is not just a historical detail; it is foundational to understanding the Quran’s form, content, and enduring impact.

However, it is crucial to understand that orality in the seventh-century Arabian Peninsula did not equate to a complete absence of literacy. Archer meticulously dismantles the simplistic binary of oral versus literate cultures, emphasizing the concept of “residual orality”. This describes a culture where writing exists and its potential is known, but it is not the primary mode of communication, knowledge acquisition, or societal organization. While inscriptions, coins, and even rudimentary writing systems were present in Muhammad’s world, daily life for most people, including likely the Prophet himself, did not revolve around reading and writing. Organizational, governmental, agricultural, and economic systems functioned predominantly through oral means.

This high degree of residual orality profoundly shaped the early Quran. Archer argues that the earliest suras (chapters) bear the hallmarks of a deeply embodied and situational oral performance. They are short, with rhythmic verses that facilitate memorisation. Their themes are often generic, yet their language is impressionistic, prioritising the immediate impact on the listener. As Ruth Finnegan, a historian of orality in Africa, notes, “There is no mystery about the first and most basic characteristic of oral literature… This is the significance of the actual performance”. The early Quran, therefore, must be understood within the specific context of its recitation by Muhammad to a particular audience at a given time. The frequent use of pronouns and vague references to nearby people and places further underscores this intimate, conversational nature. Unlike a written text intended for a broad, abstract readership, the early Quran was an immediate address.

Furthermore, the cognitive landscape of a residually oral culture differs significantly from that of a highly literate one. In the absence of widespread literacy, knowledge is deeply intertwined with sensory experience. “To know is to sense,” Archer argues. Information is primarily encountered through direct interaction and spoken word, making abstract, disembodied concepts less prevalent. This is reflected in the early Quran’s use of oaths invoking tangible elements like “the fig and the olive” and “Mount Sinai”. These sensory anchors served to ground the message in the immediate experience of the listeners, lending credence to the unseen realities being conveyed. The Quranic God itself is often depicted in ways that emphasize observation and sensory awareness: “the Witness” (al-Shahīd), “the Perceiving” (al-Wājid). This reflects a thought form where knowing is inseparable from sensing.

Beyond orality, understanding the shared cultural context of the seventh-century Ḥijāz is paramount to interpreting the Quran’s nature. The Quran did not emerge in a vacuum; its language (Ḥijāzī Arabic), its setting (western Arabia), its social structures (tribes, mercantilism), and its religious references (to paganism, Judaism, and Christianity) were all part of a specific human experience. To truly comprehend the early recitations, one must have a sense of the prevailing beliefs, social norms, and modes of communication of that time. As Archer points out, without some knowledge of this man (Muhammad), his people, and his world, “the Quran is simply unreadable”. The Quran’s claim to speak in “your language” (ʿarabiyyan) during the Second and Third Meccan periods highlights its direct connection to the linguistic and cultural world of its initial audience. This accessibility was intended to facilitate understanding and reflection.

As the Quran’s revelation unfolded over approximately two decades, a subtle yet significant shift occurred. Archer meticulously traces how the Prophet’s mind, and consequently the Quran itself, began to interface more with literate forms of thought. This was not necessarily a personal acquisition of fluent literacy by Muhammad, but rather a growing awareness of the potential and implications of writing within his evolving community. The Quranic discourse gradually incorporated more abstract arguments, longer narratives, and explicit references to unseen divine texts. The increasing length and complexity of the suras in the later Meccan and Medinan periods also suggest a move towards forms that could accommodate more detailed information, even if they were still delivered orally.

The Medinan period, following the migration to Medina, witnessed an even more pronounced engagement with literacy. The establishment of a new community and the development of a nascent political system created new demands for recording and communication. Mentions of mundane writing, such as marriage contracts, records of debt, and intertribal treaties, appear in the Medinan suras. While the Quran remained an oral performance, its content and the mindset behind it were increasingly shaped by the presence and function of writing in the community.

Ultimately, the spoken Quran transitioned into the written text we know today. While the exact process of canonization remains a subject of historical inquiry, Archer emphasizes that the written muṣḥaf is a development from the initial oral performances. The early suras, though not explicitly designed to be written, were concise and memorable, making their recording on rudimentary materials a feasible task. However, it is crucial to remember that even in its written form, the Quran retained its deep connection to orality. The tradition of recitation (tartīl, tajwīd) remains central to Muslim practice, underscoring the enduring significance of the spoken word.

In conclusion, understanding the nature of the Quran requires a deep appreciation for its oral origins and the shared cultural context of its revelation. George Archer’s “The Prophet’s Whistle” illuminates how the high degree of residual orality in seventh-century Arabia shaped the Quran’s form, content, and initial reception. The embodied nature of the early recitations, the reliance on sensory experience for knowledge, and the direct engagement with a specific cultural milieu are all crucial elements in grasping the Quran’s foundational layers. While the Quran eventually became a written text, its inherent orality and the importance of understanding its original cultural landscape continue to resonate, offering invaluable insights into this enduring and influential scripture. To truly listen to the “Prophet’s Whistle,” we must attune our ears to the echoes of an oral past and strive to understand the shared world that gave birth to the Quran’s transformative message.