3. The Iranian-Islamic Roots of Professional Ethics in *Muruwwa* and *Futuwwa*

Before professional ethics came to be expressed in terms such as “codes of conduct,” “conflicts of interest,” and “organizational accountability,” Iranian-Islamic culture used concepts such as muruwwa, futuwwa, javanmardi, stewardship, fairness, and keeping one’s word. These concepts were not exact equivalents of professional ethics in its modern sense; their scope extended beyond work and the marketplace to a person’s general character. Yet when they entered the world of artisans and guilds, they addressed a question that remains familiar to the modern economy: How should a professional behave with the skill, power, and trust placed in their hands?

In this tradition, javanmardi was not limited to physical courage or generosity. In Arley Loewen’s study of the Futuwwat-nāmah-i Sulṭānī, the javanmard is presented as the bearer of virtues such as courage, honesty, hospitality, and generosity. In Iranian-Islamic culture, this image became intertwined with religious devotion and the influence of Sufism, turning the merely martial hero into a more explicitly ethical ideal.1

The importance of this character became apparent precisely when a person had the opportunity to abuse power. A javanmard did not turn power into a means of humiliating others, exploit a counterparty’s ignorance in a transaction, or honor loyalty only for as long as it remained profitable. In this sense, muruwwa can be understood as an ethical restraint on power: before law or an external overseer intervenes, the person places limits on their own conduct.

Even so, the history of futuwwa should not be narrated as uniform or unchanging. Different groups and currents in different periods were known by names such as futuwwa, javanmardi, fityān, or ʿayyārān, and they did not all share the same organization, aims, or conduct. Some urban groups associated with futuwwa were even accused in historical sources of conflict, extortion, or disturbing public order. Nor does the evidence show that futuwwa groups were organized around trades and professions from the beginning; their clearer association with occupational organizations appears in later periods, especially in Iranian and Turkish lands.2

This historical caution prevents us from turning the past into an entirely pure and ethical age. The existence of futuwwa manuals does not prove that all artisans behaved according to them, just as the existence of ethics codes today does not eliminate professional misconduct. The value of these texts lies elsewhere: they show that society distinguished between “knowing a craft” and “being worthy of practicing it.”

From Individual Virtue to the Code of a Profession

One of the earliest stages in the systematic formulation of futuwwa took place in Sufi milieus. Encyclopaedia Iranica identifies ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Sulamī, a Khurasani Sufi who died in 1021 CE, as the first writer to compose an independent and extensive treatise on futuwwa. In his understanding, futuwwa was connected with broad generosity, relinquishing one’s own claim in favor of another, and struggling against selfishness.3

At this stage, futuwwa was not yet a code specific to any particular profession. The focus was more on a person’s character and relationship with others. Later, however, the same ethical language acquired a more concrete meaning among artisans. A professional was expected to show that skill existed for more than earning income and that its use carried responsibilities of its own.

The relationship among futuwwa, Sufism, and guilds also developed gradually. The precise date when guilds emerged and first became connected with futuwwa currents is unclear; Iranica places the earliest reliable information about this relationship in the thirteenth century. We therefore cannot, without evidence, describe all earlier occupational organizations as futuwwa-based or Sufi.3

As futuwwa entered guild environments, its meaning changed as well. In that setting, it moved closer to a set of rules governing the conduct of members of a profession—rules that were sometimes written down to be memorized, recited, and used in initiation ceremonies. Treatises titled Kitāb al-Futuwwa, Futuwwat-nāma, and Kasb-nāma emerged from this development. Their contents varied according to the profession, the guild’s symbolic patron, and the spiritual lineage it recognized.3

This point matters greatly for understanding professional ethics. Futuwwa no longer asked only which virtues a person should possess in private life; it also addressed conduct as a merchant, physician, poet, artisan, or member of a professional association. Citing the Qābus-nāma, Iranica distinguishes the futuwwa of occupational groups from that of the ʿayyārān and explains that the sections concerning professions discussed both occupational rules and ethical principles.3

A Profession Was More Than a Technique

In such a tradition, entering a profession meant more than learning tools and methods. A person had to understand their place within a chain of training, responsibility, and loyalty. The master-apprentice relationship became important from this perspective. The master carried experience and a way of working, and the apprentice learned more than a series of technical moves; they gained access to a craft’s memory, its accumulated mistakes, and its conventions for dealing with colleagues and customers.

This does not mean that all master-apprentice relationships were fair or free from abuse. Professional hierarchies could lead to excessive obedience, monopolization of knowledge, or barriers to entry for newcomers. Historical guilds were not always powerful, unified institutions either; some evidence describes them as relatively loose groupings influenced by the interests of wealthy members and major merchants.4

Despite these limitations, the distinction between “transmitting a technique” and “forming the person who practices it” remains noteworthy. Professional education was considered complete only when, alongside skill, the apprentice also learned the limits governing the use of that skill. Discretion, loyalty, integrity in production, and respect for others’ rights were not peripheral to the craft; they were part of a professional’s fitness to practice it.

The Futuwwat-nāmah-i Sulṭānī: Primary Text and Scholarly Interpretation

One of the principal sources for understanding this tradition is the Futuwwat-nāmah-i Sulṭānī by Husayn Vāʿiẓ-i Kāshifī. An edited edition prepared by Mohammad-Jaʿfar Mahjoub was published in 1350 SH, and a digital version is available through Noor Library. The work presents itself as a treatise on the path and proper conduct of the people of futuwwa, initiation rites, the qualifications of the shaykh and disciple, and relations between apprentice and master. This description comes from the work itself and should be kept distinct from the later interpretations of scholars.5

At the level of the primary source, the Futuwwat-nāmah-i Sulṭānī shows how its author connected futuwwa with adab—proper conduct—education, hierarchy, and the rules of belonging to a community. Calling the text “a premodern document of professional ethics,” however, is a contemporary scholarly interpretation. The description is useful so long as we remember that Kāshifī was not speaking in the language of modern concepts and problems.

Arley Loewen’s study, published in Iranian Studies, examines the Futuwwat-nāmah-i Sulṭānī as one of Kāshifī’s important works and as a source for understanding javanmardi in Iranian society. The article appeared in 2003, in Vol. 36, No. 4, pp. 543–570, and has a valid digital identifier.1

This distinction between primary text and secondary analysis is essential. When we say, “Kāshifī wrote about the qualifications governing masters and apprentices,” we are reporting the content of the work. When we conclude that “the futuwwa manual is one historical form of professional ethics,” we have entered the realm of scholarly interpretation. These statements require different kinds of sources and should not be substituted for one another.

What Remains of This Tradition for the Present?

Futuwwa manuals cannot be converted unchanged into the bylaws of a modern company, union, or organization. They were written in a world whose professional relationships, legal structures, conceptions of the individual, position of women, technology, and modes of production differed fundamentally from those of today. They generally contain no modern mechanisms such as formal conflict-of-interest disclosure, legal protection of data, independent complaint procedures, or organizational accountability in the contemporary sense.

Yet this tradition contains an ethical core that can still be reread: a profession creates not only a right to earn income but also a responsibility. Skill without stewardship is not enough. Knowing more does not create a right to deceive someone who knows less. Nor should the power of a master, employer, or seller become a means of humiliation or exploitation.

Modern professional codes ask more often what conduct is permitted, how misconduct should be identified, and which institution should be accountable. Futuwwa manuals asked more often what kind of person a professional ought to be. A healthy economy needs both questions. Rules without character can become clauses to be circumvented; character without rules remains defenseless against power, conflict, and abuse.

The legacy of muruwwa and futuwwa for the present can be condensed into one proposition: a professional is not merely the owner of their skill; they are the bearer of a trust made up of public confidence, the teaching of masters, the cooperation of others, and the consequences of their own decisions. The next section of the article follows this idea: work as a trust, not merely as a means of earning a livelihood.