Deep Knowledge: Thoughts and Perspectives

A review and some reflections on Oludamini Ogunnaike’s “Deep Knowledge: Ways of Knowing in Sufism and Ifa, Two West African Intellectual Traditions”

I

Growing up in Lagos, my earliest exposure to Islam was through friends and neighbors. I remember an interesting conversation when I was in secondary school with a now old friend of mine on religious intolerance, where we somehow settled on the conclusion that since we both worshipped the same God – he was Muslim and I was Christian – all this religious intolerance was unnecessary. In hindsight, that was indicative of a conciliatory approach to religion I would carry many years after, till today. My friend is an easygoing guy. I appreciate him to death, even if we don’t talk as much now. That’s the kind of Islam I’m familiar with: conservative by “western” standards, but very kind and easygoing. The charitable approach to religion my mother tried to teach me providentially met my friend’s own charity, and so here I am, someone who has a historically Muslim last name, and who stands a result of both Muslim and Christian charity. All this is to give you the major background I am coming from when I learn more about West African Islam from academic sources.

In contrast, I have a tenuous history with the Ifa tradition, having grown up in a context where they were demonized, even in movies. South-western Nigerians of my generation know Mount Zion movies, or at least know of them. But this demonization was even more widespread. However, there were pockets, I can remember interesting takes where there were good traditionalists battling evil ones. I can’t remember the movie names, but I definitely remember the epic (to me at the time) battles of incantations and spells. From this background, coming to learn more about Yoruba traditional religion from academic sources is a lot more jarring than learning about Islam. I might have been taught to fear Islamic terrorists, but I always distinguished them from the Muslims I know, that terrorists were misusing Islam. In contrast, the overwhelming perspective was that there were no good traditionalists, that they were all devilish, etc. So imagine the breath of fresh air when, reading about the Babalawo, and seeing the testimony from those who know them, and finding upright people with virtue I don’t think I can approximate yet.

Now, take both these accounts, and try to think of the excitement a Nigerian Platonist in search of reconciliation between traditions has when he learns there is a book that puts these two traditions together, to discuss them separately, in comparison with each other, and together in comparison with the western academy and the western “tradition”. That is what the past few weeks have been like with Deep Knowledge[1].

II

Ogunnaike’s book begins with an overview of the problem of “African philosophy” and how to understand such a term, from the history of the terms “Africa” and “philosophy”, its different meanings, and especially how it has come to mean what it means today, a descendant of “Enlightenment” rationality that measures all other thought by itself and its European context (p. 9-10), the result being its contribution to the dehumanization of all other peoples, and their notions of rationality. His analysis of “chain of being” logic in its transformations from ancient roots to the modern “hierarchy of races” is especially important, I think, for the Platonists who seek to revive this idea of the “chain of being”. I think the idea needs to be re-understood, as it is very easy to read the older concept through the newer lens of race, and thus to spoil one’s Platonism with racism, something that is unfortunately common in online spaces. Also as importantly, is that the ancient Mediterranean concept of philosophy is the concept that better fits the various religio-intellectual traditions found on the African continent today, including Sufism and the Ifa tradition. He cites Hadot’s definition of Philosophy as “an ideal way of life” (p. 5), in order to achieve a state of being that can be called “wisdom”. You can see here Parmenides suffusing the description. To take a slight detour, I think this is what is missing in the modern definition of platonism as the acknowledgement of the existence of “abstract objects”. The forms are lives and paradigms of lives. They aren’t “abstract”.

III

You can see this “lived” aspect of philosophy in the Sufism section of the book. Ogunnaike starts with an overview of Sufism, its history, major ideas and proponents, including (ofcourse) Ibn ‘Arabi. Ogunnaike gives a reading of Ibn ‘Arabi as a theorist of religion, one that I think is one of the highlights of the book. Ogunnaike subsequently narrows the focus on Tijani Sufism, a branch of Sufism in West Africa, one I didn’t know I had contact with until quite recently. You see, if you enter Public transportation in Lagos, you will notice that many of the vehicles have a sticker of Tijani Shaykh Ibrahim Niasse. You get used to it quite quickly, without ever knowing you are looking at a Sufi Shaykh, that’s how far the Tijāniyya have spread. The Tijāniyya trace their chain of initiatory transmission through their founder, Aḥmad al-Tijānī, directly to the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), Aḥmad al-Tijānī receiving it through a vision in a desert oasis (p. 46, 47). This is unique because the usual chain of transmission goes through the founder of the Tariqa (the name for Sufi Orders) back through other older Tariqas and Shaykhs up to the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) in his earthly life. Even more extraordinarily, Shaykh Ibrahim (mentioned earlier) is said to have instituted a form of training which leads to higher spiritual stations a lot more quickly than other Tariqa (p. 53-54). This is apparently a contributing factor to Shaykh Ibrahim’s explosive popularity.

After giving a relatively detailed history of the order, Ogunnaike goes through the description of the unique Sufi way of knowing, ma’rifa, from textual sources and from interview transcripts of his discussions with members of the Tijani Tariqa. This “gnosis” is hard to describe, but what is given in the book will be familiar to anyone familiar with ancient Platonism. The term “knower by God” is such an apt description of the point where union meets silence. The methods of verification used by their Shaykhs, their discussions on what they experienced, etc, all reminded me viscerally of a Platonic academy, and their description of the role of philosophy and particularly philosophical cosmology as a guide towards the realization they experience first-hand reminds me of Proclus such that, we see the “chain of being” as a tool to describe the ascent “inwards”, towards the point where deity, and self, meet. This point of extinction, for the Sufis, is called “fanāʾ” (annihilation). The difference, one might argue, is that Proclus is explicitly “polytheist”, while Muslims are “monotheist”. But this distinction is troubled by Ibn ‘Arabi, if not in theory, at least in practice, as the injunction from his Ringstones of Wisdom, that “Be then, within yourself, a pure substance (hyle), for the forms of all belief” (quoted in p. 76), is so very familiar to a reader of Proclus, who says the philosopher should be hierophant of the world world. I say “if not in theory” because the symbolism of “water” that Ibn ‘Arabi uses to describe God reminds me of the Intelligible-Intellective, the “darkness” of Night/Nyx, or the formlessness of Nun, rather than the first principle. There is a theory of religious pluralism extractable from Proclus’ notion of the Intelligible-Intellective as such, and when I think about that theory, I am heavily reminded of Ibn ‘Arabi. Nevertheless, as I’ve been told privately, Ibn ‘Arabi is not concerned with building a self-contained system, as much as he is trying to perspectivally shatter one’s restrictive mindset, towards a union that is in itself non-describable. This is the philosopher par excellence. I also say “at least in practice” because, in reading this book, I realized something about certain Sufi practices that seem to show that “there are Gods even here”, an insight that I can best explain after we consider Ogunnaike’s account of the Ifa tradition.

IV

You see, there are many Yoruba religious traditions, the Ifa tradition being one of them, and Ogunnaike does not let us forget that. However, there are ways in which they have a common intelligibility. We can describe this common intelligibility in terms of what Butler has called a “structured pantheon”[2], which is “a manifestation of a polytheism sufficiently deeply entrenched as to result in an organization of theophanic experience and interaction into several planes”[3].To be clear, Ogunnaike does not use the term “monotheism” or “polytheism” to describe these traditions, due to the baggage and the imprecision they often carry, but I bring them here as a tool to understand the traditions in question, Sufism and Ifa. But before that, we have to understand this “structured pantheon”. As is standard, it is understood that Yoruba tradition acknowledges one Ẹlẹda, “the one that establishes”, or the “creator”, called “Olodumare”, who is the source of all the other deities, the Oriṣa, whose number vary but are understood to be many. “Ifa” refers to several things, including the name of the Oriṣa that established the tradition (also called Ọrunmila); it can refer to the tradition itself, to the divinatory science Ọrunmila revealed, and to the many “Odu” orature used within the science.

Ogunnaike goes through the intricacies of knowledge in Ifa (p. 232), including its emphasis on verified knowledge (imọ), where one does not truly know (mọ) anything if they haven’t verified it themselves. This means that the things we often call “knowledge” in English, such as the sciences taught in schools, and other such things, are not really knowledge for the Babalawo (“father of secrets”, the priests of Ifa). Such things not experienced directly fall under “igbagbọ” (literally “the heard and accepted”), which ranges from things believed (“belief” is another translation of “igbagbọ”) based on convention, to mere hearsay. Only the scientists who did and still do the experiments to verify the laws and phenomena are said to know (mọ) that thing. This distinction is strongly maintained by the Babalawo, and it seems to be a great aid to humility in distinguishing between things you know directly and things you have simply heard about indirectly. However, the Babalawo are not allowed to be “possessed” by anything, so the “mounting” of the other Oriṣa traditions are forbidden to them, similarly for the “fanāʾ” of the Sufis. Nevertheless, Babalawos are supposed to imitate their deity, Ọrunmila, and this imitation can reach interesting extremes, even with other Oriṣa traditions, where on one glance, people can tell which deities one’s body, demeanor, and life is sculpted in likeness of (p. 298).

The discussion on knowledge is intimately tied to the notion of cosmology and psychology. In Yoruba metaphysics, there is the inner (inu) and the outer (ode), the latter being the manifestation of the former. It applies to all things. There is the “inner head” and the “outer head”, “inner feet” and “outer feet”. Everything has a spiritual double, and they are intimately connected. This is most clear in the “head” (ori), which in the case of the “inner head” (ori inu) is at once “kind of guardian angel, muse, and spiritual double” (p. 358), and is chosen when one wants to be born into the outer world. The Platonist is immediately reminded of the myth of Er, a connection Ogunnaike does not hesitate to make in one of the footnotes and with more detail in another article of his[4]. This comparison can easily be stretched into the concept of time operative in this cosmology, especially with the “verticality” of the descent into time common to both the Yoruba and the Platonist traditions, and how it affects ethics. To live well here, is to live long (dying in old age is important) and full in alignment with your head/Ori, with the Oriṣa that “owns” one’s head/Ori, with all other Oriṣa, and in line with Olodumare’s will. The Babalawo are supposed to be exemplars of this, being here to “mend the world” (p. 218).

V

Ogunnaike’s exposition, I think, is a great introduction worth many textbooks and can serve as preliminary reading for deeper study, for both traditions discussed. After the exposition of Ifa, he proceeds to give a layered comparison. He starts with Ifa, discussing how Ifa engages Islam in general. The Ifa tradition has been familiar with Islam for a long time, and even has verses interpreted as speaking about Islam. After giving this history and giving transcripts of different Babalawo giving their perspective, he gives the most charitable reading of Islam he can give from that perspective. He does the same for Sufism, giving the mainstream opinions and transcripts as to what the Tijani Sufis themselves say, before giving a layered interpretation of Ifa from the Sufi standpoint. He then concludes the book with a chapter on more conceptual and methodological comparisons between Ifa and Sufism with respect to each other, and then both with respect to the (western/westernized) academy.

VI

Important to me in the words, and ideas wonderfully spun in this book is how to go about my exploration of religious pluralism in a more responsible manner. Key to that has been trying to translate Proclus’ metaphysics into something more general, away from the Hellenic context towards something more flexible that I can apply. To this end, Butler’s work has been tremendously helpful. It has also been important for me to encounter the work of Antonio Vargas, who has helped me read Butler and Proclus better. It is through Butler that I think of Ibn ‘Arabi in comparison to Proclus, and it is through Vargas that I see that “there are Gods even here” in this work of comparative religion. To see this, we have to understand how “imitation” works in these traditions. “Imitation” is a key theme in this book, Sufis imitate their Shaykh, and most importantly the Prophet, to an astounding degree:

“Thus in both traditions, the process of acquiring or cultivating these ideal modes of knowing/being involves the transformation of the self through ritual practice. Since these modes of knowing are at once self-knowledge and modes of being, the self’s mode of being must be changed or actualized through transformative ritual practices. These practices are invariably linked to or done in imitation of the founder of the tradition, who is identified with this most perfect mode of being/knowing. In self-knowledge, the knowing subject is the same as the object known; therefore, to change or increase what you know, you must change or increase your self. In Tijani Sufism, the most intense and deepest levels or aspects of the self are identified with God, the Prophet, and Shaykh Aḥmad al-Tijānī / Shaykh Ibrahim; while in Ifa, the most intense and deepest levels of the self are identified with Olodumare (“the ori of all ori”), one’s ori, Ọrunmila, and one’s Odu. If you want to know me, walk a mile in my shoes; if you want to know the Ọrunmila or the Prophet Muḥammad, walk a life in their footprints—and in doing so, you become who you truly are and thus know yourself as you truly are and know things as they truly are.” (p. 353)

To truly be themselves, the Sufi must truly become the Prophet, they must imitate him in everything. This enables the “annihilation in the Prophet” they speak of, that state where “everything is the Prophet” (p. 130). This is towards the highest annihilation, which is “annihilation of annihilation” (p. 130), where one is at once God and not-God, and everything else is the same: God and not-God.

Similarly, for those successful in the imitation of their Oriṣa, even Babalawo (who do not get “possessed” by their deity); at the end of their lives, “their identification with the oriṣa may become ritually complete: such people can be remembered and worshipped as “parts” or manifestations of particular oriṣa” (p. 298).

This is the perfection gained in imitation, it is deification, the “becoming god” that Plotinus talks about. What interests me here is how it is being done. The Prophet, the transcendent aspect of the Shaykhs, the Oriṣa, are taken not just as valuable ends, but as Values in their own right. There is a “Muhammadness” that is aspired towards. There is a “Ọrunmila-ness” that is incorporated. Neither of these are mere substances. They are unities, unities of all things, as to say that “everything is the Prophet” is to see everything according to the Prophet. The Prophet is a measure of the whole universe, visible and invisible, a feature Proclus ascribes to Gods in Prop. 120 of his Elements of Theology. This is what it means to be a Polytheism in the sense Butler and Vargas explain Proclus’ metaphysics. Every God is a Unity and Goodness/Value beyond being, and this transcendence is expressed in that providence that extends to the whole of existence. It wouldn’t matter here that the Prophet is considered subordinate to Allah, or that Ọrunmila is “Ibikeji Olodumare” (Second only to Olodumare). If anything, it would be considered an expression of this unity beyond being that they can be subordinate at all, for they are truly free, and true freedom does not have external compulsion, not even the compulsion of essence. The Oriṣa coincide with their selves, there is no gulf between who/what they are and who/what they want to be. Using the example of Ogun, an Oriṣa: “iron isn’t just a symbol or manifestation of Ogun—it is Ogun” (p. 208). There is no distance between their particular associated paths and practices and who they are. They are who they want to be. This is what it means to be unity beyond being. It is also here Ibn ‘Arabi perhaps breaks into true polycentricity:

“That is, our immutable identities—what we are in God’s eternal knowledge of us and all of our states (aḥwāl), everything that we are, will be, and will happen to us—determine God’s Knowledge of us. All God does is bring us into existence. So, in a sense, we “choose” to be what we are, and then God gives us existence in the form we have chosen or determined. However, it is important to remember that all of this takes place in Divinis, in God (ʿinda Allāh), so the “we” that chooses or determines our immutable identities is none other than the Divine “We.”” (p. 359)

If one takes this very seriously, to the furthest implication, and applies it to the deities of the peoples, the tolerance of which Ibn ‘Arabi advocates for, we might as well end up with Sallust when he says that the Gods are not separated from the first cause[5]. At the very least, it is the first principle applied to Allah, in principle applicable to any God, and even applied in some sense to the Prophet as a Value/Goodness. Truly, if we can reason together, then we can see that “there are Gods even here”.

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[1] Oludamini Ogunnaike, Deep Knowledge: Ways of Knowing in Sufism and Ifa, Two West African Intellectual Traditions, Africana Religions 5 (University Park, PA: Penn State University Press, 2021), https://doi.org/10.1515/9780271087634.

[2] Edward P. Butler, The Way of the Gods: Polytheism(s) Around the World (Notion Press, 2022).

[3] Butler.

[4] Oludamini Ogunnaike, “From Theory to Theoria and Back Again and Beyond: Decolonizing the Study of Africana Religions,” accessed January 23, 2025, https://dx.doi.org/10.5325/jafrireli.10.2.0174.

[5] Sallustius, “On the Gods and the World,” trans. Thomas Taylor (London: Edward Jeffery and Pall Mall, 1793).