Enacting Justice, Ensuring Salvation: The Trope of the ‘Just Ruler’ in Some Medieval Islamic Mirrors* for Princesстатья из журнала
Аннотация: Know that kingship and sovereignty are among the gravest duties of Islam . . . and the support of faith and the people depends on kings, who distinguish between justice [‘adl ] and oppression [ẓulm].1 In truth, the Sulṭān is he who spreads justice [‘adl ] among his servants, who does not commit injustice and depravity; a tyrannical Sulṭān is a disaster and will not last because the Prophet said: ‘kingship remains with unbelief, but not with tyranny [ẓulm].’2 Among the many charged words which have loomed large in recent American political discourse none are more prominent than ‘oppression’ and ‘freedom’; two abstract nouns which are often heard together, each being construed as the logical antonym of the other. This is neither unusual nor unexpected. The Enlightenment ideals which fuelled the French Revolution naturally juxtaposed the idea of ‘freedom’ (la liberté) against the perceived ‘oppression’ (l’oppression) of the ancien régime, positing a semantic opposition which has since served to frame so much of the discourse of Western European and American democracy. When asked to provide an antonym for the noun ‘oppression,’ a native speaker of American English will more often than not produce the noun ‘freedom.’ Again, this is neither unusual nor unexpected given the political, intellectual, and cultural genealogies informing American conceptions of national mission. However, when these two words are translated into Arabic (or, for that matter other major Islamicate languages such as Persian, Urdu, or Turkish) they do not form an antonymous pair — far from it. Simply put, at the level of popular speech, the logical antonym of the word ‘oppression’ (ẓulm) is not the word ‘freedom’ (Ar. ḥurr?ya; Per. & Urd. āzād?, āzādig?; Tur. özgürlük, hürriyet), but rather the abstract noun ‘justice’ (‘adl), a derivation (Per. & Urd. ‘idālat, Tur. adalet) or a near synonym (e.g., Per. and Urd., insaf, dād; Tur. inṣāf, doğruluk), most of which are possessed of closely associated adjectives, adverbs, and participles which carry the same semantic load. This is not to be glossed over lightly, for language is deeply telling, encoding basic cultural assumptions rooted in the collective worldview and ethos of those who speak them. For those familiar with the intellectual and cultural production of medieval Islamic civilization, the antonymity of these two terms is hardly surprising — both are possessed of a long history of theological, juridical, political, literary and poetic significations which overlap and impinge upon one another through and across multiple discourses, circulated so thoroughly that they eventually become engrained in everyday expression to such an extent that, in modern colloquial Urdu, for example, it is not uncommon for a hen-pecked man to be referred to tongue-in-cheek as an “oppressed little husband” (maẓlūm khāvand) and his wife as a “tyrant” (ẓālim). Such examples are trite but telling, for like many abstract nouns that have seeped into the lexicons of various Islamicate languages, the two terms ẓulm and ‘adl feature prominently in the Qur’ān, they and their associated derivations appearing over 340 times throughout the text. Although retaining a layer of their pre-Islamic meanings connoting physical displacement on the one hand and rectifying and counterbalancing on the other,3 in the Qur’ānic discourse both ẓulm and ‘adl come to be moralized, the former serving to connote a cluster of negative values associated with transgressing the limits imposed by God through various acts of moral displacement and the latter — also reflecting the physicality of its pre-Islamic, Bedouin usage — a cluster of positive values associated with various acts of equilibration which possess the potential to straighten, balance, and rectify a morally unbalanced situation.4 Thus, the Qur’ānic rootedness of the contextually expanded signification of ẓulm (‘oppression’) in the foregoing example drawn from Pakistani domestic life — the wife's tyranny jokingly displaces and subverts a perceived natural moral order. At the lexical level, the persistence of this antonymous pair is certainly reinforced by the Qur’ānic significations of ẓulm /‘adl and its influence on cultural poetics across Muslim societies, but at the same time the rhetoricity of this opposition is neither static nor timeless. As with all systems of meaning, at the level of audience-response the Qur’ānic system of signification is contextual, shifting and changing over time and space as each generation encounters, responds, and adds to the collective weight of an inherited past in light of the exigencies of their particular present. It is in the shifts between and among ‘meaning inherited’ and ‘meaning articulated’ where the intellectual, cultural, political and religious significations of worldview-building oppositions such as oppression/justice are to be sought, for while perceived vertically and synchronically, Qur’ānic oppositions are inevitably articulated horizontally and diachronically, being possessed of genealogies whose main continuity is that they set themselves in relief most visibly at moments of crisis. In his masterful study of the rise and fall of civilizations, the late Arnold Toynbee argued for the creative power of crisis as a prime determinant in shaping the historical trajectory of civilizations, positing that to understand the texture of a civilization is to understand the nature and scope of its responses, failed or otherwise, offered to moments of challenge.5 As Toynbee might say, it is in piecing together historically definable moments of response to crises (whether propelled by the inertia of previous responses or eschewing precedent in favor of novelty) which allows us to come to terms with any one response, past or present, through understanding it as part of a continually unfolding historical process possessed of moments of action/reaction which are contiguous but at the same time historically distinct. This leads us to the heart of the question which has already been framed by our initial observations on the lexical antonymity of the words ẓulm / ‘adl in contemporary Islamicate languages, namely: if construed as possessing political significations, is this antonymity (lexically or rhetorically) a novel response to a crisis unique to Islamic civilization in the modern period, or is it possessed of an historically identifiable genealogy with pre-modern antecedents? If so (and I believe it is) how might have ‘justice’ (‘adl) and its antonym ‘oppression’ (ẓulm) been understood in an earlier (i.e., pre-modern) context by those possessed of the actual power to effect either and, in turn, how were both constituted as a subject of discourse and an object of reflection and self-representation? In short, when, where, how, and in what contexts might we find a decidedly political signification of the Qur’ānic ‘oppression/justice’ complex in the historical unfolding of Islamic civilization — can it be located it in an identifiable, historical discourse, preferably one emerging from a moment of crisis? Although intersecting, sharing, and in no small number of cases contesting a shared discursive space, as with so much in Islamic intellectual, political, and social history, charting the contours of pre-modern Muslim conceptions of justice demands looking beyond the oftentimes reified discourse of jurists and theologians to texts produced by and for those who more often than not provided the capital and patronage making their endeavors possible in the first place. What I have in mind is a discourse embodied in a group of texts similar to the popular didactic literary genre known to pre-modern Europe as Fürstenspiegel (Ger. ‘Mirror for Princes’), namely those medieval Islamic books of ‘advice for rulers’ (naṣ?ḥat al-mulūk) so well known to historians of the pre-modern Islamic world and beloved by students of Persian, Arabic, and Turkish belles-lettres.6 Possessed of a two-fold intention which attempts to balance the actual practice of statecraft (siyāsa, tadb?r al-mulk) with a political ethics (al-khuluq al-siyāsatiyya) demanding adherence to Islamic conceptions of the moral justice and righteousness which those in power are divinely obligated to maintain, the medieval Islamic Fürstenspiegel were composed at a time of major crisis, a period characterized by intense competition between powerful regional dynasties for public recognition of their self-perceived role as guarantors of proper, right, and universal justice as expressed in the creation, maintenance, and perpetuation of a perfect (Islamic) state — a state which ensures first and foremost that its citizens achieve prosperity in both this world and the next. Situated in a discursive space where various genres, literary modes, and collective oral and written wisdom traditions overlap, the internal environment of the Fürstenspiegel is much broader than other medieval Islamic discourses treating similar issues, being a place where Sassanian (and to a lesser extent Hellenistic, Indic, and Byzantine) traditions commingle with the Qur’ān and traditions of the sayings and doings of the Prophet Muḥammad (Ḥad?th), legends of the previous prophets and Sufi hagiography, aphoristic and gnomic lore, juridical and theological articulations of Islamic praxis and dogma, positive law, the posthumous political counsel of popular Muslim icons, and old tales of righteous and just pre-Islamic Persian kings. Like all texts, the Fürstenspiegel are at the same time intimately tied to the historical context in which they were produced, constituting a recognizable literary genre which emerged within a disturbed political situation characterized by the progressive dissolution of centralized authority in the Muslim heartlands beginning in the mid-11th century, in many ways preserving a distinct discourse of power and authority which persisted until the rise of the Mughal, Ottoman, and Safavid Empires in the 16th century, when the project of Empire was renewed. Although separated by radical temporal, geographic, linguistic, and cultural divides, as locations of a pre-modern discourse on justice, the medieval Islamic Fürstenspiegel intersect in some measure with what went before them. Like the ancient Greek historian Thucydides, for example, the authors of these ‘Mirrors for Princes’ were both participants in, and antagonists against, the process of Empire, and although separated by some fourteen centuries from the former, their respective constructions and representations of justice intersect not only in broad historical particulars but in philosophical orientation as well. Both Thucydides’History of the Peloponnesian War and the medieval Islamic ‘Mirrors for Princes’ were composed in the very real historical context of a fractured polity where authority and legitimacy were deeply contested, where the brute concerns of Empire and national policy inevitably confronted the much more fragile concerns of measured statecraft and political ethics. In the Melian Dialogue, for instance, Thucydides presents us with what is perhaps the classic articulation of Realpolitik: a foreign policy based on the practical concerns of Empire rather than ethical or principled concerns, a policy whose problematic relationship to ‘justice’ as such is only made all the more resonant by the artfully contrived dramatic quality of the Dialogue itself.7 Machiavelli himself could not have represented it any better. So to the Fürstenspiegel, texts which are rooted in the ethos of a powerful elite concerned with reconciling their very real de facto military authority as regional sultans and am?rs with the de jure religious and temporal authority of a now politically weakened caliphate, something which as members of competing regional courts jostling for political supremacy demanded negotiating a pervasive policy of Realpolitik while simultaneously attending to the constant legitimization of that authority in moral, ethical, and religious terms familiar and acceptable to the citizenry over which they ruled. On the question of political theory in medieval Islamdom, one should begin as the classical theorists themselves, namely with the oft-quoted Qur’ānic injunction “Obey God, obey His Prophet, and obey those in authority over you.”8 If one is to start anywhere, it is here, for it is this injunction which has traditionally shaped Muslim conceptions of the nature of authority, an authority which constitutes itself in the notion that all civil relations (mu‘āmalāt) between and among any and all members of the Muslim polity exist in a complex of mutually informing rights and obligations (ḥuqūq) woven by divine decree into the very fabric of the human condition itself. Pursuant to the historical realities of the breakdown of centralized authority characteristic of the period in which most of the Fürstenspiegel were produced (i.e., the 12th–14th cens.) the question to which we must attend becomes not so much one of interrogating the Qur’ānic vision of a state which ensures the success of its citizenry in both this world and the next through ensuring the continued rule of the divine law (shar?‘a) in the form of absolutist government, but of how those in power actually went about legitimating their authority as its guarantors, and thus in turn were able to effect the religious duty of obedience on the part of their subjects. It is here where the contested nature of authority and legitimacy, justice and oppression are to be found, for as the medieval historiographers are wont to remind us, the political realties of a pervasive policy of Realpolitik rooted in the de facto military authority of regional sultans and am?rs of the central and eastern lands of medieval Islamdom time and time again collided with the established de jure religious and temporal authority of the caliphate in Baghdād, resulting in a constant tension over who was the legitimate guarantor of the integrity, and thus moral legitimacy, of the Muslim state in the eyes of its citizenry. In negotiating this tension, the authors of the Fürstenspiegelen developed an ingenious solution — one which revolved around a particular concept of justice (‘adl) and its paradigmatic troping in minutely detailed political behaviors. Before discussing the contours of this solution, however, it is important to outline the main issues connected with authority and power to which the medieval Islamic Fürstenspiegelen were speaking in their historically determined socio-political contexts, in particular those juridical formulations of temporal and religious authority (khilāfa/imāma) associated with the so-called ‘classical theory of the caliphate’ worked out by various Sunni jurists and theologians during a period when the ‘Abbasid Caliphate witnessed its lowest ebb.9 In contradistinction to earlier conceptions of caliphal authority, what becomes immediately apparent in this discourse is that the legitimacy of rulership was not one of power as much as it is one of moral authority, the Siyāsa shar‘iyya theorists attempting to legitimate a visible caliphal presence in the wider Islamic body politic by re-imagining and re-interpreting the constitution of moral authority, and the power to effect it, in light of a radically transformed political reality. Thus, we find in the work of the Mālik? jurist and Ash‘arite theologian al-Bāqillān? (d. 1013) a defense of the caliphate which delineates the nature and scope of the caliph's role, qualifications, and disposition of authority only as possible within a situation where the actual exercise of power lies elsewhere.10 Although other works intervene, the celebrated Ordinances of Government (al-Aḥkām al-sulṭāniyya) of the Shāfi‘? jurist al-Māward? (d. 1058) proceeds on the same assumptions, affirming the necessity of a religiously-authoritative caliph on the basis of Qur’ānic dictate and the necessity of his office for the continued vitality of the dār al-islām, but only calling for recognition of his role as executor of the divine law, its actual implementation being carried out by various legally recognized ‘delegates’ who hold de facto power.11 Following al-Māward?'s lead, the Ash‘arite shar‘?-revivalists al-Juwayn? (d. 1028) and his student al-Ghazāl? (d. 1111) defended the institution of the caliphate in a similar manner, affirming its necessity on the basis of revelation and the ‘consensus’ (ijmā‘) of the Sunni community, but only inasmuch as he sanctions and symbolically legitimizes political action but does not actually effect it.12 Overall, the compromise which emerges from these works is usually understood to be a fiction by which medieval Muslim jurists ‘reunited’ religious and temporal rule in order to assure the continuity of shar‘? government, even though the political and military enfeeblement of the ‘Abbasid Caliphate was such that there were no real material reasons why the powerful dynasties of the period should have deferred to it at all. This brings us back to the question of the constitution of authority and power during what by all accounts was a trying period in the medieval Islamic world and, in turn, its relationship to Qur’ānic notions of ‘adl and ẓulm. Theoretically, the regional sultans and am?rs for whom the Fürstenspiegel were written could not obligate their citizenry to accept their authority on the basis of the religious legitimacy traditionally possessed by the caliphate (even as configured by the Siyāsa shar‘iyya theorists). What they could do, however, is enunciate their legitimacy practically, and thus in a sense co-opt the public perception of the caliphate as the political axis of the dār al-islām by (re)enacting one of its primary functions, namely, guaranteeing proper, right, and universal justice by ensuring the creation, maintenance, and perpetuation of a perfect (Islamic) state which ensures first and foremost that its citizens achieve prosperity in both this world and the next. Although effected through policies of Realpolitik, in the discourse of the Fürstenspiegel the right to rule a religiously-constituted, absolutist state thus comes to be justified through carefully negotiating a tension between the iconicity of the de jure religious and spiritual authority of the caliphate as a locus of justice and order and the de facto military authority of those who actually ruled over the state in which it was to be effected. In the representational world of these texts, this was done through a certain nostalgic iconicity rooted in the trope of the ‘just ruler.’ In speaking to the political realities of a deeply fractured polity, the Fürstenspiegel negotiated the political tension between de jure religious and de facto temporal authority through carefully fashioning a comprehensive, although certainly idealized, model of statecraft aimed at guiding the actual behavior of the sultans and am?rs who constituted their audience, a model which revolves around the trope of the ‘just ruler,’ a figure who exudes ‘justice’ (‘adl) and opposes ‘tyranny/oppression’ (ẓulm) in every aspect of his administrative, military, courtly, spiritual, and even private life through (re)enacting the proper, right, and just precedents of past ‘just rulers’ in a perceived ‘unjust’ present. Due to both theoretical and practical concerns of authority as contested in a fractured polity, in configuring the trope of the ‘just ruler,’ the medieval Fürstenspiegel often look beyond the Islamic tradition of the jurists and theologians as such, engaging in a process of inter-textual cross-referencing wherein a stratum of older cultural memories (which had already been Islamized by representatives of the old Perso-‘Abbasid secretarial class) are constituted as the basis within which a contemporary enunciation of a specifically Islamic claim to authority/power could be articulated. The upshot of this discourse of nostalgia is that it aimed to universalize conceptions of power and authority by looking back to an idealized past while still attending to an Islamic idiom of the present, in essence positing a compromise which did not subvert Qur’ānic notions of the connection between justice and rulership nor their failure in contemporary political realities but rather circumscribes them so as to enunciate legitimacy to as wide a constituency as possible. Thus, we find in the Book of Government (Siyāsat-nāma) of the celebrated Saljūq vizier and architect of the dynasty's phenomenal success Niẓām al-Mulk (d. 1092), a work which draws upon a mass of concepts and practices organized around diverse topoi, motifs and genealogies garnered from a wide range of Islamic and pre-Islamic sources which — inasmuch as it reflects a particular theoretical assertion — begins by assuming that the ruler's authority is perennially God-given: “in every age and time God chooses one member of the human race and, having endowed him with goodly and kingly virtues, entrusts him with the interests of the word and the well-being of his servants.”13 This notion of rulership which — reflecting the interests of his recently Islamized Turkic Saljūq patrons, Niẓām al-Mulk links with both the mythical ancestor of the Turks, Afrāsiyāb, and the Qur’ānic Adam14— is characterized first and foremost by its emphasis on justice (‘adāla) and the maintenance of an orderly and harmonious society, the ruler himself ultimately being held responsible by God for fulfilling these duties.15 So to in the partially apocryphal Book of Counsel for Kings (Naṣ?ḥat al-mulūk) of al-Ghazāl?,16 a text which grounds itself in the notion that the sultan is the ‘shadow of God on earth’ (al-sulān ẓill Allāh fi’l-‘arḍ [wa-ya‘wi ilay-hi kull maẓlūm) and that in his capacity as divinely appointed ruler, he is imbued with a certain ‘divine charisma’ (farr-i ?zād?),17 a quality which assures him absolute obedience from those over whom he rules while simultaneously bringing with it the necessary moral qualities by which just rule is maintained in the first place. As with Niẓām al-Mulk, (pseudo-) al-Ghazāl? (re)imagines the basis of kingship along comprehensive lines: As you will hear in the traditions [akhbār], the Sulṭān is God's shadow on earth, which means that he is high-ranking and the Lord's delegate over His creatures. It must therefore be recognized that this kingship and the divine charisma [farr-i ?zād?] have been granted to them by God, and that they must accordingly be obeyed, loved and followed. To dispute with kings is improper, and to hate them is wrong; for God on High has commanded ‘Obey God and obey the Prophet and those among you who hold authority’[Qur’ān 4:59], which means (in Persian) obey God and the prophets and your princes [am?rān].18 The farr-i ?zād? which legitimizes the ruler's authority is not, however, granted unconditionally, for according to (pseudo-) al-Ghazāl? it is predicated upon the ruler having cultivated certain virtues, each of which are exemplified in the salubrious actions of paradigmatic ‘just rulers’ from the pre-Islamic Iranian past alongside exemplary figures from the Islamic tradition, the whole being aimed at the maintenance of justice (‘adl ) in the face of the ever present danger of lapsing into oppression and tyranny (ẓulm) — something which was the rule and not the exception of the day. Emphasizing that the king must “follow the precepts and methods of these kings who preceded him, and govern rightly like them,”19 (pseudo-) al-Ghazāl? goes on to assert that authority and power are predicated upon the coupling of the exercise of justice with divine right, something which is universal and not necessarily limited to the Islamic tradition as such: The development or desolation of this universe depends upon kings; for if the king is just, the universe is prosperous and the subjects are secure, as was the case in the times of Ardash?r, Far?dūn, Bahrām Gūr . . . whereas when the king is tyrannical, the universe becomes desolate, as it was in the times of Ḍaḥḥāk . . . The Sulṭān in reality is he who awards justice, and does not perpetrate injustice and wickedness . . . because the Prophet stated that ‘sovereignty endures even when there is unbelief, but will not endure where there is injustice.’ It is (recorded) in the chronicles that for well-nigh four thousand years this universe was held by the Magians [Mughān] and the kingdom remained in their family. This endured because they maintained justice among the subjects. In their religious system they did not permit injustice or oppression; and through their justice and equity they developed the universe.20 At the same time, however, both Niẓām al-Mulk and (pseudo-) al-Ghazāl? are careful to ground their enunciations of legitimacy through divine right in the Islamic conception of a divinely ordained system of mutual rights and obligations which structures relations between all members of the Muslim polity, the latter emphasizing, for example, that: “in any matter between you and the True God you should observe the same obedience as you would deem right that your servants observe towards you; and that in any matter between you and mankind you should treat people in a way in which, if you were a subject and another were Sulṭān, you would deem right that you yourself be treated.”21 Justice, of course, is the operative principle in all undertakings and is the foundation of legitimate rulership, of legendary pre-Islamic Iranian kings, early Perso-Turkic rulers, or even the first four successors to the Prophet Muḥammad himself. As (pseudo-) al-Ghazāl? notes, one day of such rule is (according to the Prophet), “more meritorious than sixty years of continual worship,” and tyranny and injustice are grounds for eternal damnation.22 Articulated in an historical situation where the present was perceived as ‘unjust’ and ‘oppressive,’ in each of these texts we find every point exemplified through detailed narratives recounting the particular virtues, or faults and failings, of past iconic rulers, whether a paragon of the ‘just ruler’ (e.g., the pre-Islamic Persian king Ardash?r or the Turco-Persian Muslim ruler Maḥmūd of Ghazna) or his Other, the oppressive tyrant (the pre-Islamic Persian tyrant Ḍaḥḥāk or his early Islamic counterpart Yaz?d). The upshot of this is that in writing this trope of the ‘just ruler’ through the lens of a poetics of nostalgia, the Fürstenspiegel constitute ‘justice’ (‘adl) and ‘oppression’ (ẓulm) in decidedly utilitarian terms, in the process pairing it with a larger meta-critique of contemporary problems which recuperates and renames the past in an attempt to negotiate a disturbed present without directly or overtly challenging the de jure authority of the caliphate in Baghdad. It is in the very practicality, in fact, of the Fürstenspiegel's troping of the idea of ‘just ruler’ where these texts strive to (re)enact the public enunciation of the religio-temporal legitimacy and authority of the caliphate in its capacity as the moral center of the Muslim polity while, on the surface at least, leaving its symbolic value untouched. Nothing is left out — it is a comprehensive discourse. From social etiquette and the art of polite conversation, to the management of personnel and the appointment of officials, to the oft-cited injunction that all ‘just rulers’ must regularly hold open court to hear the grievances of the populace and dispense justice, all while embodying the perfection of virtues such as piety, altruism, fairness, discernment, self-discipline, compassion, honesty, and sound belief, the Fürstenspiegel both maintain the ‘circle of justice’ so integral to the Perso-Islamic conception of government while at the same circumscribing the notion of ‘justice’ (‘adl) as an active force in the larger Qur’ānic drama in which their citizenry participate by sheer virtue of their shared humanity.23 Recalling the Qur’ānic opposition between ‘adl and ẓulm, it is precisely the focus on justice in the face of oppression where power and authority intersect in the Fürstenspiegelen, the former represented as an energetic, transformative force which literally trickles down from God to the ruler (His very shadow upon earth), and from there to each and every social stratum below, to such an extent that even the unredressed oppression of a single lowly peasant is taken to be an indication of a major problem in the court.24 The Fürstenspiegelen, in fact, constantly reiterate the idea that kingship and political fortune are inextricably tied to the continued maintenance of justice, both legitimacy and political efficacy literally fleeing from a ruler if he allows even a hint of oppression and tyranny to enter into his realm. As the author of the anonymous mid-12th-century Baḥr al-favā’id (Sea of Previous Virtues) remarks, enacting justice ensures not only worldly success, but perhaps more importantly, salvation itself: “Know that every rule marked by justice brings happiness and good fortune in both worlds, and any rule marked by injustice brings wretchedness in both worlds.”25 The universalizing tendencies of the discourse of justice associated with the medieval Islamic Fürstenspiegel is further highlighted in the work of one of those bright shining stars who illuminated the intellectual landscape of 13th-century Islamdom, Naṣ?r al-D?n al-Ṭūs? (d. 1274), one of those rare individuals in whom true genius was combined with an output and subsequent legacy so decisive that whole arenas of intellectual, scientific, and political history come to be indelibly marked by their presence. Although not usually spoken of as belonging to the Fürstenspiegel genre proper, The Naṣ?r?an Ethics (Akhlāq-i Naṣ?r?) reflects that strand of ethical literature from which the Fürstenspiegelen drew so much of their inspiration, and thus deserves comment here.26 Although drawing upon a wide range of works of philosophical and political ethics,27 The Naṣ?r?an Ethics is not, however, simply an adaptation of previo
Год издания: 2009
Авторы: Erik S. Ohlander
Издательство: Wiley
Источник: The Muslim World
Ключевые слова: American Constitutional Law and Politics, Islamic Studies and History, Politics and Conflicts in Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Middle East
Открытый доступ: bronze
Том: 99
Выпуск: 2
Страницы: 237–252