This deeper exploration seeks to unravel these layers and question how the balance between the two forms of jihad has shifted across different historical and ideological landscapes.
By Dr. Tim Orr
The concepts of "Greater Jihad" (al-jihad al-akbar) and "Lesser Jihad" (al-jihad al-asghar) are often presented as clear-cut distinctions in Islamic theology. Yet, they’re much more intertwined than many realize. The “Greater Jihad” is often praised as the spiritual struggle within oneself, while the “Lesser Jihad” is associated with physical conflict, from defending the faith to broader military campaigns. But can we truly separate the two? Critics argue that such distinctions are theological and strategic, serving to soften perceptions of Islam in a modern context. This deeper exploration seeks to unravel these layers and question how the balance between the two forms of jihad has shifted across different historical and ideological landscapes.
We often hear that the difference between the “Greater” and “Lesser” jihad comes from a single, supposedly weak hadith, where Muhammad, after returning from a battle, says: “We have returned from the lesser jihad to the greater jihad.” This hadith appears primarily in Sufi literature, which became popular as a spiritual metaphor for inner purification. However, many Islamic scholars—both classical and contemporary—have treated this hadith with skepticism due to its weak chain of transmission. In other words, it’s not a core part of the early Islamic canon.
If we dive into early Islamic history, we see that jihad was primarily understood as a call to arms rather than as a call to inner peace. The Prophet Muhammad’s defensive and offensive campaigns were seen as acts of faith and obedience to God. Battles like Badr, Uhud, and Khaybar were more than mere skirmishes; they were central to consolidating Islam’s power. So, it’s fair to ask: if the “Greater Jihad” was so crucial, why was it not more prominently emphasized in the earliest Islamic sources?
Theologically, the “Greater Jihad” represents the moral struggle within the soul. It’s about resisting sinful desires, cultivating virtues, and aligning one’s will with God’s commandments. This emphasis aligns with broader Qur’anic themes, such as the focus on inner purification and the “straight path” (e.g., Qur’an 1:6). It’s the kind of struggle that resonates universally, whether you’re Muslim, Christian, or simply trying to live a virtuous life. It’s about our internal battles—overcoming pride, greed, anger, or lust.
But how does this internal jihad relate to the external one? The “Lesser Jihad,” or physical struggle, is rooted in the Qur'an and Hadith. For example, the Qur’an calls Muslims to “fight in the way of Allah” (Qur’an 2:190) and to make Islam’s message prevail over all religions (Qur’an 9:33). This isn’t just about self-defense—it’s about establishing God’s sovereignty on Earth. The “Lesser Jihad” is thus seen not merely as a necessary evil but as a divine command to actively spread Islam’s influence.
The tension lies here: while the “Greater Jihad” calls for self-restraint, the “Lesser Jihad” demands a proactive stance that may include aggression. How do these two forms of jihad coexist within Islamic thought? Are they truly complementary, as many Muslim scholars suggest, or do they represent two distinct, sometimes contradictory, impulses within the faith?
David Cook’s Understanding Jihad is a vital source for grappling with these questions. Cook doesn’t simply dismiss the “Greater Jihad” as irrelevant; he recognizes its role within Islamic spirituality. However, he argues that the “Lesser Jihad” has historically been the dominant form of jihad, especially in the formative years of Islam. According to Cook, early Islamic sources overwhelmingly focused on physical jihad, which was integral to expanding Islam’s political reach.
Cook also points out that the “Greater Jihad” narrative gained traction primarily among Sufi mystics, who sought a more internalized, personal expression of jihad. But for mainstream Sunni and Shia jurists, the “Lesser Jihad” wasn’t just about individual struggle—it was a collective duty (fard al-kifaya) that required Muslims to engage in warfare to protect and spread Islam. In times of invasion or threat, it became an individual obligation (fard al-ayn), akin to other pillars of faith like prayer and fasting.
Cook raises a thought-provoking question: Could the “Greater Jihad” be more of a later reinterpretation meant to make Islam’s aggressive past more palatable to a modern audience? He suggests that emphasizing the “Greater Jihad” often serves a strategic purpose, especially in interfaith dialogue, where it allows Islam to be presented as fundamentally peaceful and spiritual. But Cook warns that this portrayal often sidesteps the historical reality of the “Lesser Jihad,” which played a central role in the spread of Islam from the Arabian Peninsula to Spain and India.
Let’s get real for a moment. The promotion of the “Greater Jihad” in today’s discourse often feels like an attempt to reshape Islam’s image, particularly in Western societies. It’s the version that fits neatly into the narrative of peaceful coexistence and personal growth. But history tells a different story. From the early caliphs to the Ottoman sultans, the emphasis on the “Lesser Jihad” was clear: Islam was not just a religion of the heart but also a religion of the sword. Battles, conquests, and expansion were not merely political maneuvers—they were perceived as fulfilling a divine command.
The “Greater Jihad” can be seen as a softer layer atop a more militant core. It offers an image of Islam that emphasizes spirituality over conflict. But does this image align with the foundational sources and early Islamic history? Critics argue that it doesn’t, pointing out that the historical emphasis has always been on the “Lesser Jihad” to establish Islamic rule and law. Even today, militant groups continue to draw on these traditional interpretations to justify their actions.
In the modern world, both interpretations of jihad are alive and well. Reformist Muslims emphasize the “Greater Jihad,” framing Islam as a peaceful religion focused on personal morality. This is the Islam that Sufis, liberal theologians, and interfaith activists advocate for—a faith that speaks to the inner transformation of individuals and society.
On the other hand, Islamist ideologues like Sayyid Qutb argue that the “Lesser Jihad” is not only relevant but essential. For Qutb, jihad is a revolutionary force designed to dismantle the structures of jahiliyyah (ignorant societies) and establish an Islamic state. His writings have inspired generations of militants, from al-Qaeda to ISIS, who view the “Lesser Jihad” as the ultimate path to fulfilling God’s will on Earth. Abu Bakr Naji’s Management of Savagery takes this further, advocating for calculated chaos to establish Islamic governance—a direct application of the “Lesser Jihad” in modern geopolitics.
Interfaith dialogue often centers on the “Greater Jihad,” portraying it as the defining essence of Islam. While this approach makes for easier conversations, it risks being evasive. True dialogue requires engaging with both jihad's spiritual and martial dimensions. Ignoring the historical significance of the “Lesser Jihad” can lead to misunderstandings and even dangerous naiveté about the motivations of radical groups that invoke these concepts today.
An honest approach would acknowledge jihad's dual nature: the inner struggle for personal holiness and the external struggle for religious dominance. By understanding this complexity, we can only engage in meaningful dialogue that respects the full scope of Islamic thought and history.
The debate between the "Greater" and "Lesser" jihad is not merely a theological distinction—it’s a window into how Islam interacts with both the personal and political realms. As David Cook’s analysis shows, the “Lesser Jihad” has been central to Islam’s development, while the “Greater Jihad” offers a path for personal moral growth. Both are essential to understanding jihad’s role in Islamic thought, but we must be wary of romanticizing one at the expense of acknowledging the other.
Ultimately, an honest exploration of jihad requires grappling with its full dimensions, from the personal battles within the soul to the political battles that have shaped history. Only then can we hope to understand the true nature of this complex and often controversial concept.
Cook, D. (2005). Understanding Jihad. University of California Press.
Tim Orr is a scholar, Evangelical minister, conference speaker, and interfaith consultant with over 30 years of experience in cross-cultural ministry. He holds six degrees, including a master’s in Islamic studies from the Islamic College in London. Tim taught Religious Studies for 15 years at Indiana University Columbus and is now a Congregations and Polarization Project research associate at the Center for the Study of Religion and American Culture at Indiana University Indianapolis. He has spoken at universities, including Oxford University, the University of Tehran, and mosques throughout the U.K. His research focuses on American Evangelicalism, Islamic antisemitism, and Islamic feminism, and he has published widely, including articles in Islamic peer-reviewed journals and three books.