A History of the Muslim World to 1405: The Making of a Civilization

by Vernon O Egger

  In 1325, a young Moroccan named Ibn Battuta embarked upon the hajj. Others from his hometown who had traveled to Mecca before him had usually been away for two to three years. Thus, he knew that he would be gone for an extended period, but it is doubtful that he had any idea at the time just how long it would be before he saw home again. In fact, after he had completed the rituals of the pilgrimage, he decided to travel the extent of the Muslim world. He sailed along the coast of East Africa, ventured into the realm of the Horde in southern Russia, lived for seven years in India, and may even have sailed through the straits of Southeast Asia on his way to China. He did not return home until 1349. His return trip was fraught with numerous perils, for he had to make his way through the collapsing states of the mid-fourteenth century as well as avoid becoming a victim of the plague, which was ravaging much of the world at the time.

  Ibn Battuta’s career opens a window upon Muslim cultures of the fourteenth century. Muslim states, as a rule, proved ephemeral in the face of the cataclysms of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. More impressive was the strength of the ideas and institutions that had evolved within the Muslim world over the previous several centuries. Scholars in many disciplines had not ceased producing original work, and Ibn Battuta visited many whose fame was spread all across the Dar al-Islam. The Shari‘a, or Islamic law, provided cultural continuity when states failed, and Ibn Battuta financed his travels by serving as an itinerant qadi: Everywhere he went, his credentials qualified him to adjudicate disputes according to Islamic law, and local Muslims paid handsomely for his services. By the mid-fourteenth century, Sufi lodges and orders were widespread throughout the Muslim world. Ibn Battuta visited many different Sufi masters, enjoyed the hospitality of numerous Sufi lodges, and marveled at the variety of Sufi expression wherever he went.

  Intellectual Life in the Fourteenth Century

  In previous chapters, we have seen that the development of Islamic civilization took place in the context of widespread and repeated violence. The era of Mongol hegemony was the climax of that remarkable period. The stunning gains of the Reconquista, the widespread elimination of Muslim states by the Mongols, the collapse of the newly Islamized Mongol regimes themselves, the catastrophe of the plague, and the utter ruthlessness of Timur were spectacularly destructive and severely demoralizing. Many European historians of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, viewing the Muslim experience of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries through the prism of the subsequent rise of Europe to world dominance, found it easy to assume that Islamic civilization had been shattered and left moribund. That view can no longer be defended.

  The End of the “Golden Age”?

  Unlike early medieval western Europe after the collapse of Roman administration, the Muslim world never suffered from a cessation of its cultural life. As had happened earlier during times of great turmoil, Islamic law continued to function, precisely because it was not dependent upon the stability of any particular regime. Also as before, the new states, even the transitory ones, attempted to gain legitimacy for themselves by patronizing scholars and artists who exemplified the best of Islamic civilization.

  Even though Islamic civilization did not collapse in the fourteenth century, a shift in the locus of cultural creativity did slowly occur. Until the thirteenth century, the level of intellectual production in the Muslim world had been vastly superior to that of Europe. With the work of scholars such as Albertus Magnus, Robert Grosseteste, and Roger Bacon (all of whom were inspired by translations of Arabic manuscripts), however, European thought began to value mathematical and experimental methods in the practice of natural science. The twelfth- and thirteenth-century translation of Arabic versions of Greek texts prompted a desire to read the Greek originals, and in the process of searching for them, scholars discovered previously unknown texts by Plato, Aristotle, and other intellectuals. Although philosophy remained largely within the framework set by the Church for two more centuries, numerous new currents in philosophy emerged, laying the foundation for humanism and other secular developments of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.

  These changes did not take place overnight. Cultural production in the Muslim world continued to flourish in many quarters, and the visual arts were about to enter their most creative phase. In the fields of pure mathematics and astronomy, as well, the Muslim world continued to eclipse Europe until the mid-sixteenth century, when Copernicus made his breakthrough. Even in the field of astronomy we must remember that the Copernican thesis was not readily accepted in Europe. The rejection of the geocentric theory flew in the face of the everyday experience of everyone, but also seemed heretical to both Protestants and Catholics. Since the Bible contains several passages that refer to the sun’s movement around the earth and never mentions a possible revolution of the earth around the sun, most Christians were reluctant even to consider the new theory. Not until the late seventeenth century was the geocentric view decisively discredited in scientific circles, and the Catholic Church had so much institutional prestige invested in it that it continued to adhere officially to the notion until 1860. In science and mathematics, therefore, we can say that Protestant Europe began to move beyond Muslim achievements by the late seventeenth century. It was also during this period that European universities finally began to discard Ibn Sina’s seven-hundred-year-old book of medicine in favor of the new European discoveries in physiology, based upon the work of Vesalius and Harvey.

  The reversal of fortunes in the scientific and philosophical productivity of Europe and the Muslim world has given rise to much speculation about “what went wrong” for the Dar al-Islam. Often forgotten in the discussion is the fact that Europe’s subsequent development was unique and unpredictable. Its science and technology eventually dwarfed that of all other regions of the globe, not just the predominantly Muslim regions. The cultural systems of China, India, Southeast Asia, and the Americas all contained elements that had been more sophisticated than their European counterparts, but by the late eighteenth century, their technological prowess was eclipsed. The European aberration is actually the topic that needs explanation, and we still cannot provide an adequate one. Much of the speculation has been based on misplaced assumptions about historical inevitability and progress, rather than on a careful analysis of how history actually takes place.

  The contrasting trajectories of the intellectual history of Europe and the Muslim world are of particular interest due to their common heritage. They shared many features: Their monotheistic traditions were remarkably parallel, and they enjoyed the same access to the Greco–Roman traditions of architecture, philosophy, engineering, medicine, and political thought. The advantages the Muslim world enjoyed were a more direct access to the creative traditions of China and India and not having to overcome the disastrous collapse of Roman administration that western Europe suffered after the fourth century. A major advantage for western Europe was that it no longer suffered from outside invasions after the mid-tenth century, and subsequently enjoyed a period of economic growth that resulted in political centralization and cultural sophistication. The Muslim world, by contrast, began suffering from sustained violence from the same, mid-tenth century, period.

  Muslim religious scholars became increasingly intolerant of speculative thought. Innovation (bid‘a) in religious affairs had always been frowned upon due to the perceived obligation to act strictly in accord with the Qur’an and the Prophet’s own behavior, but the charge of “bid‘a” was increasingly effective in limiting the scope of intellectual inquiry. By the thirteenth century, when Muslims felt hemmed in by aggressive Christian enemies to the west and ruthless pagan Mongol enemies to the east, philosophical speculation had practically ceased.

  At this time, it is as impossible to explain the growing conservatism of Muslim intellectuals as it is to explain the increasing creativity of European intellectuals. A multitude of factors played a part, and it is possible that we will never be able to discover many of the most important ones. It
does, however, seem useful to keep in mind two elements of the Muslim experience. One is the conjunction between the sense of collective insecurity, on the one hand, and the growing reluctance to allow challenges to established religious doctrine, on the other. A confident society is likely to allow more scope to intellectual inquiry than one that fears for its future. The other element is the fact that Muslim philosopher–scientists required the patronage of ruling families for their economic support, whereas, by the twelfth century, European scholars were beginning to organize autonomous universities. European scientists and philosophers enjoyed legal protection as communities of scholars. They benefitted from the exchange of ideas and the criticism that came from belonging to a faculty, and they could respond to threats to their livelihood by going to court. Muslim scholars, however were attached individually to the palaces of ruling dynasties. They shared ideas with fellow scholars, but at a distance. If their ideas were criticized by local religious leaders or by public opinion, the patron usually found it expedient to dismiss them. Under those conditions, it was next to impossible for a school of thought to develop based on an original idea.

  Thus, it is possible to say that the period of Mongol hegemony represents a period during which Muslim philosophical thought practically disappeared except as an adjunct to theology and law. The fields of prose, poetry, the sciences, and mathematics, however, continued to boast the work of outstanding talents, and the visual arts were entering their most spectacular period. Scientists and mathematicians continued to make important revisions to existing knowledge, but their isolation from each other and their dependence on the good will of a ruler limited the scope of their work. Their plight was similar to that of the vast majority of intellectuals in the world at the time.

  Against All Odds

  A remarkable feature of the period of the Mongols and of Timur is the vibrancy of the religious, artistic, and intellectual life of the Muslim world. The cultural and intellectual life of the Dar al-Islam showed that it had securely established itself across a wide area, and even the hammer blows of the fourteenth century could not destroy it. As we have seen, even the Mamluke Empire, which may have experienced the worst effects of the plague of any region in the world, made contributions to art and architecture which are still regarded with awe. The intellectual life of Muslims, too, continued to flourish. Philosophy continued to be suspect because of its association with challenges to the authority of revelation, but the use of disciplined reason was highly valued in most theological and legal circles. Historical and scientific studies also continued to flourish wherever manuscripts survived or were copied and where patronage made scholarship possible. Sometimes these conditions made vibrant scholarship possible in the most unlikely of settings.

  Ibn Taymiya

  One of the greatest Muslim religious scholars of the fourteenth century was Ibn Taymiya (1262–1327). He was born in 1262 in the city of Harran, located near today’s border between Syria and Turkey. Fearing the effects of the onset of Hulagu’s rule, his family moved to Damascus while Ibn Taymiya was a small child. For the rest of his life, he lived under Mamluke rule. Through a combination of formal education and independent study, he mastered the disciplines that focused on the study of the Qur’an, Hadith, jurisprudence, rational theology, philosophy, and Sufi metaphysics. His keen intellect, his deep knowledge of the religious sciences, and his forceful personality combined to create one of the most influential thinkers in Islamic history.

  Ibn Taymiya’s career was committed to the cause of Islamic reform. He was convinced that certain doctrines and practices had arisen that were not sanctioned by the legitimate sources of the faith, and he became a tireless advocate of the need to return to what he regarded as the purity of early Islamic history. He argued that the two sources of all religious truth are the Qur’an and the Hadith as interpreted by the first generation of Muslim scholars. As a member of the Hanbali school of law, he believed that whatever is commanded in those sources must be obeyed, and whatever is not mentioned in them must not be required. Although he was proficient in the methods of philosophy and rational theology, he was bitterly critical of the conclusions that philosophers and theologians drew from them.

  He was particularly critical of philosophers who asserted that scripture had been deliberately couched in metaphors and pictorial images so that common people could understand it. He also found fault with certain features of Sufism, although he was not opposed to Sufism as such. He did, however, object to common Sufi practices such as the pilgrimages that were made to the tombs of saints, and he rejected the monism of Ibn al-‘Arabi. One of his greatest contributions to subsequent Islamic history was his criticism of fellow jurists for accepting without question the decisions of jurists of previous generations. He was convinced that scholars of the Shari‘a had an obligation to continue interpreting the will of God as it applied to contemporary society, provided that all such decisions were firmly grounded in the two major sources of law, extended where necessary by analogical reasoning.

  Ibn Taymiya was what today we would call a “public intellectual.” He brought his passionate concerns to the attention of both the public and the authorities, not just to the small group of his fellow intellectuals. Because some of his criticism threatened other intellectuals, popular religious leaders, and the interests of government officials, he became the center of controversy and conflict. From at least 1298 until his death in 1327, he was repeatedly brought before the courts on various charges—“anthropomorphism,” his attacks on rituals at saints’ shrines, and his support of a revision to the Shari‘a that would make it more difficult for a man to divorce his wife, among others—and was jailed several times for a total of at least five years for his “offenses.” His funeral attracted thousands of admirers, many of whom he had criticized for un-Islamic practices, but who respected him for his courage, brilliance, and integrity.

  Ibn Taymiya’s moral courage and his uncompromising dedication to truth as he understood it has made him a role model for many Islamic reformers to the present day. He is particularly remembered today for his evaluation of Ghazan, the Il-khan ruler whose army occupied Damascus for a year after defeating the Mamlukes in 1300. Ghazan, as we have seen, was a professed Muslim, but Ibn Taymiya never forgot that the Mongols had destroyed much of the civilization of the Islamic world and had frightened his family out of their home in Harran. He led an opposition group to the Mongol occupation of his adopted city, and afterward he wrote extensively on the duty of believers to oppose rulers who professed to be Muslim and performed the basic rites, but who in fact failed to apply the Shari‘a. As a result, he is revered today by Muslim activists who challenge the oppressive and corrupt governments of their countries and advocate the creation of an Islamic state.

  Ibn al-Shatir

  Until the late twentieth century, the focus of historians of astronomy on the Copernican tradition caused them to ignore the original work of Muslim astronomers. In fact, from the tenth century on, a large number of Muslim astronomers recorded important observations and made significant contributions to astronomical theory. Some of the most important Muslim astronomers lived during the period from the thirteenth to the sixteenth centuries, an era when many western historians assumed that Islamic scholarship had died. One of the most important astronomers in history was Ibn al-Shatir of Damascus (1306–1375), whose career spanned the last, turbulent decades of the Qipchaq period of Mamluke rule. He was a young man in Damascus when Ibn Taymiya died there. Ibn al-Shatir was the muwaqqit, or timekeeper for the congregational mosque of Damascus, and he was chief of the mosque’s muezzins. He designed and constructed his own versions of several observational and computing instruments, including the quadrant and sundial. His large sundial for the congregational mosque of Damascus still stands, and a portable one is preserved in the Aleppo Museum.

  Even more impressive is Ibn al-Shatir’s work in astronomy. He stands in the tradition of what has come to be known as the “Maragha school” of astro
nomy. As we have seen, Hulagu’s observatory at Maragha attracted scientists from China to Andalus. The astronomers at Maragha engaged in much observational work, but are best known for their revision of existing astronomical theory. Ibn al-Shatir, although not at Maragha itself, continued in this tradition. At the center of the debate was the work of Ptolemy, the great second-century geographer and astronomer. In addition to having established the basis for determining latitudes on earth, he proposed a geocentric (earth-centered) model of the universe that incorporated the important observations and theories up to his time in a brilliant synthesis. It rapidly became the paradigm that explained the structure of the universe as seen from earth. Its basic features remained unchallenged until the sixteenth century, when Copernicus proposed his heliocentric (sun-centered) theory.

  The Muslim astronomers did not offer a heliocentric theory, for, at the time, such a theory was contrary to the evidence of the senses as well as unnecessary, since the Ptolemaic theory was highly accurate in predicting eclipses and other celestial events. What concerned them was the inconsistency between Ptolemy’s model and the mechanics that he proposed to explain how it worked. A major problem was that Ptolemy assumed for philosophical purposes that celestial orbits were perfectly circular, but actual observations demonstrated that they acted in an elliptical fashion. He had attempted to explain the discrepancy by proposing that the spherical orbits moved uniformly around an axis that did not pass through the center of the sphere (an “eccentric” circle, rather than a “concentric” one).

  Another problem was that, over the centuries, astronomers found that the assumption of the perfect uniformity of the velocity of planets ran counter to their observations. Planets appeared to wander in random patterns and to speed up or slow down. Rather than abandoning the Ptolemaic model, however, astronomers proposed that a given planet actually moves in a small circular orbit (an “epicycle”), which is itself centered on the rim of an orbit around the earth. This corollary seemed adequate until so many epicycles had to be proposed that the entire model became unwieldy. When the dozens of epicycles were combined with the eccentric orbits, the Ptolemaic model was beginning to look like a Rube Goldberg machine. The Copernican “revolution” was provoked in part because Copernicus could not believe that God had designed such an awkward instrument.