that what it contains remains upon the original presumption. Yet they have all failed to notice this fact. Their case is no different from that of someone who flatly bans gold and silk for women even though the Prophet—peace and blessings be upon him—specifically exempted them from that prohibition in the sound ḥadith transmitted through several chains: “These two are forbidden to the males of my community but lawful for its females.” Could any scholar treat the matter as though the exemption were not there and revert to the default ruling? I can scarcely imagine it, yet that is precisely what these dissenters have done with the ḥadith before us: they have used the general text to abrogate the specific one, and Allah’s help is sought.

What has just been stated also answers a question posed by the writer known as Ibn Khalaf in his Nazarat (p. 87). Displaying gross ignorance, he asked: “Why not apply the juristic maxim that when a prohibitive and a permissive text clash, the prohibitive takes precedence?” He was seconded by our brother al-Iskandarānī (3/345–346) with remarks of no real substance—part of them touching on the report that shifts the ruling away from the default, a point I have already addressed, and the rest leaning on this very maxim. The reply remains exactly the same: the rule simply does not apply here. It is like the earlier rule about preferring the text that departs from the original presumption. Both maxims are sound in themselves, but they have been cited in the wrong context. If anyone doubts this, let him test them against the example of silk and gold for women.

To sum up the answer to this fifth objection: these men, while conceding that the ḥadith is authentic—and in our view it is indeed sound—have refused to handle it by means of the correct, principled methods of uṣūl, one of which is that abrogation is not to be invoked.