“Martyrdom has a unique radiance,” Shariati
declared. “It creates light and heat in the world. It
creates movement, vision, and hope. By his death, the
martyr condemns the oppressor and provides
commitment for the oppressed. In the iced-over hearts of
a people, he bestows the blood of life and resurrection.”
Such sacriɹce was not for Islam alone. It was for all
people, everywhere. Hussein acted as witness “for all the
oppressed people of history. He has declared his presence
in all wars, struggles, and battleɹelds for freedom of
every time and land. He died at Karbala so that he may
be resurrected in all generations and all ages.”
Shariati was only forty-four when he himself died in
1977, two years before many of his students would be
shot as they marched through the streets to oust the
Shah. The cause of death was a heart attack, just three
weeks after he had fled into exile in England. Some say it
was brought on by the lingering effects of repeated arrest
and interrogation by the Shah’s security forces; others,
that it was the result of poison covertly administered by
secret agents—a swift, sharp jab from a hypodermic
needle, perhaps, and the poison as sure as the ones
developed by Muawiya’s physician Ibn Uthal fourteen
centuries earlier. Either way, the Shah was too late.
Shariati had already transformed Hussein and his death
at Karbala into the incandescent impetus for revolution.
For centuries, Hussein’s martyrdom had been the