Sayyid Imam al-Sharif, known as “Dr Fadl,” is the subject of a must-read piece by author Lawrence Wright in The New Yorker. One of the most prominent jihadists – the man who literally wrote the ideological playbook for terrorists – al-Sharif recently had an unexpected epiphany. In a move that sparked intense debate in the jihadi world, al-Sharif came out last year with a “clarification” of his prior works, explicitly renouncing the attacks of September 11th and publicly rejecting most other forms of terrorist violence.

The effect of his switch has been much discussed, and many analysts have wondered whether the revisions indicate growing rifts within the ranks of al-Qaeda. Whatever the case, the reasons for the shift are still opaque. Several theories have emerged: one suggests that the switch was motivated by a rivalry with Ayman al-Zawahiri; another, that the atmosphere of the Egyptian prison system was the catalyst; and the third, that developments in Iraq, Afghanistan, and elsewhere, prompted the reevaluation.

Al-Sharif has long had a connection to Zawahiri, al Qaeda’s Number Two. It is a relationship that, while once cooperative, is now built on mistrust and animosity. Both men were originally affiliated with Al-Jihad, the Islamist group that claims responsibility for the assassination of Anwar Sadat (1981). While Zawahiri was serving time in the Egyptian prison system following the attack (ratting out most of the other al-Jihad members in the process), al-Sharif was living safely in Pakistan. The men’s relationship came to be highly competitive in the years following Zawahiri’s release as they wrestled over control of the exiled Al Jihad. The tension reached a breaking point when Zawahiri, tasked with printing and distributing the manuscript of al-Sharif’s longest and most comprehensive jihadist work, edited and changed large sections of the text. Even the title had been altered. A furious al-Sharif cut off all contact with his former colleague. He later told the newspaper Al-Hayat that he did not “know anyone in the history of Islam prior to Ayman al-Zawahiri who engaged in such lying, cheating, forgery, and betrayal of trust.” Similar quotes, as well as a variety of anecdotal evidence, lead Wright to wonder whether a desire to spit in the face of Zawahiri might have played a substantial part in al-Sharif’s ideological transformation.

There is also speculation that debates within the Egyptian prison, where al-Sharif is currently being held, may have had an impact on his thinking. It wouldn’t be the first time that such a thing has occurred. The Islamic Group, an Egyptian militant organization that is responsible for a brutal campaign of terror in the 1990s, publicly re-considered its former adherence to violence after long theological debates while serving time behind bars. Prominent religious figures, such as the Grand Mufti of Egypt, as well as former militants, were allowed to talk with the prisoners, encouraging them to adopt a new path. As Sheikh Ali Goma told Wright: “I began going into the prisons in the nineteen-nineties. We had debates and dialogues with the prisoners, which continued for more than three years. Such debates became the nucleus for the revisionist thinking.” Since the Islamic Group’s denunciation of violence, many other militants have followed suit. It is not clear what role al-Sharif may have had in these debates, but it seems possible that they may have had an impact on his thinking.

It was in prison last year that al-Sharif wrote his own series of ideological revisions – the texts that have caused such a heated debate as to their intention, meaning, and authenticity. In them, al-Sharif “define[s] most forms of terrorism as illegal under Islamic law and restrict[s] the possibility of holy war to extremely rare circumstances.” From a man who was once one of the jihadi movement’s greatest thinkers, his revisions are a slap in the face to many of his followers. Still, perhaps it wasn’t the revisionist climate of prison that changed al-Sharif’s thinking. Zawahiri, in a 200-page response letter, wondered snidely whether the fax machine is “connected to the same line as the electricshock machines.” The comment, of course, was meant to discredit the revisions, but there may be some truth to the statement. The Egyptian prison system is considered one of the most brutal in the region, and torture is prevalent. Many have alleged that the Islamic Group’s renunciation of violence in the late 1990s, for example, was based less on conversations with religious scholars, and more on a desire to avoid further interrogation.

There is, additionally, some speculation that developments in the Muslim World after 9/11 may have played a role. The attacks on New York led to America’s devastation of Iraq and Afghanistan and the deaths of thousands of Muslims; meanwhile, al-Qaeda’s attack on a string of hotels in Amman in late 2005 (of which this blogger, who was studying in the city at the time, was a witness to the aftermath) as well as anti-Shia violence in Iraq has led to plummeting popular support for the militants’ apocalyptic cause. Al-Sharif’s switch may also have been impacted by such regional factors.

In the end, it is unlikely that we’ll know anytime soon – if ever – whether or not al-Sharif’s transformation is genuine, forced upon him through torture, affected by regional events, or based opportunistically on a desire to smear his former comrade-in-arms, Ayman al-Zawahiri. Interestingly, Wright seems to lean towards the rivalry with al-Zawahiri as being a central motivating factor. If this is the case, al-Sharif has been at least partly succesful in discrediting his colleague; Zawahiri has been trying to staunch the bleeding since the release of the texts, even going as far as to defend himself to a chorus of hostile voices in a town hall-style internet forum in December. This spring, he released a series of audio tapes responding to a range of critical questions posted online, as well as to queries about al-Sharif’s revisionist thinking. For now, al-Qaeda’s top leadership has been put — at least ideologically — on the defensive.

(hat tip and a thanks to blogging colleague Wil Robinson.)