by Ehsan Masood
Then we look at the cipher text we want to solve, and also classify its symbols. We find the most frequently occurring symbol and change it to the form of the ‘first’ letter of the plaintext sample, the next most common symbol is changed to the form of the ‘second’ letter, and so on, until we account for all the symbols of the cryptogram we want to solve.
Some of his interests, though, were more everyday. He was one of the first great perfumiers, coming up with some basic recipes and production techniques that are still sometimes used today.
One fascinating piece of text suggests that al-Kindi, like Aristotle, was thinking about time, space and relative movement – the very issues that modern physicists are still grappling with well over a thousand years later. ‘Time exists only with motion,’ al-Kindi says, ‘body with motion, motion with body … if there is motion there is necessarily body; if there is a body, there is necessarily motion.’ He also used an Arabic word for ‘relativity’.
The role of paper
One thing that arrived in Baghdad just in time to really help the translation movement, and the whole of Arabic scholarship, was paper. There is an apocryphal story that the Muslims learned the art of papermaking from Chinese prisoners they caught at the Battle of Tallas in 751. It’s probably just as likely that paper arrived from China with the many traders who were at that time journeying far across Asia, and that they brought back Chinese calligraphy as well as paper. Either way, it arrived in Islam just about the same time as the founding of Baghdad by the Abbasids. Its impact was enormous. Parchment was very expensive, hard to come by, thick and awkward to use. Paper, on the other hand, was cheap, available in bulk, light and thin, and was perfect for a new calligraphic style of Arabic writing. If in China, papermaking might have been an art, in Baghdad it became an industry.
With paper, books could be made and copied comparatively cheaply in large numbers, and the boost this gave to learning in Islam is immeasurable. Previously, parchment codexes and scrolls of books had been so rare and so bulky and precious that they were held only in a very few private or royal libraries. With the coming of paper, books and bookshops appeared not just in Baghdad but in many other Islamic cities too. Even those who were moderately wealthy could build up their own private library, and public libraries appeared for the first time. In Bukhara, for instance, there was a public library where scholars could simply drop in, ask the librarian to get them a particular book from the library stacks off to the sides of the main hall, and then sit down to make notes. The library even provided free paper for the scholars. By the 13th century, Baghdad had many public libraries and bookshops, with numerous publishers employing scores of copyists to make the books.
It’s hard to know whether the coming of paper stimulated the demand for books, or whether paper arrived because of the demand for books. Either way, it meant that with so many books and so many translations, the Abbasid scholars were very widely-read.
Beyond translation
The translation movement went on for more than two centuries under the Abbasid caliphs, and then seemed to peter out. It was partly because there were fewer interesting texts left to translate, but more because they no longer had anything to teach the scholars of the Islamic world. Almost as soon as they began the translation process, they had begun to think about what they were reading, and to make their own contribution. By the 10th century, they had much less to learn from the ancients. As the following chapters will show, there were, in particular, scientific developments, not just in Baghdad but across the empire. Achievements from Jabir ibn-Hayyan (Geber) in chemistry, Musa al-Khwarizmi in mathematics, and Abu Bakr al-Razi (Rhazes) in medicine stand out, but there were many others across a wide range.
Footnotes
1 Apparently, al-Mansur was not only inspired by the architecture of Ctesiphon but wanted to use its very bricks. But Khalid ibn-Barmak, his advisor, suggested that the continued existence of the Sassanian palace as a ruin was the perfect reminder of the superiority of Islam. And so the palace ruin was spared to survive to this day.
2 Surprisingly, perhaps, Christians and Muslims found that they had quite similar outlooks when it came to translating the Greeks. Both Christians and Muslims believed in one god; the Greek philosophers were pagans who believed in many gods, or disregarded the gods altogether. So often Christian and Muslim translators would adjust the Greek text in similar ways to make it more palatable to their potential readers.
3 ‘Almagest’ is the Latin transliteration of the Arabic name for Ptolemy’s book, which translates as ‘the greatest’.
5
The Caliph of Science
Knowledge has no borders, wisdom has no race or nationality. To block out ideas is to block out the kingdom of God.
Aristotle speaks to al-Mamun in the caliph’s legendary dream
In the traditional view of Islamic science, the start, and maybe the highest moment, of the Golden Age is the twenty-year rule of the Caliph al-Mamun, who ruled from 813 to 833, dying at the age of 47 while on campaign against Byzantium.
Al-Mamun was one of Harun al-Rashid’s two sons, and he became caliph only after a violent civil war against his brother al-Amin. Al-Amin was the designated heir to the caliphate, but in a repeat of the Abbasids’ coming to power, al-Mamun regarded himself as more deserving of the highest office and fought his brother all the way to Baghdad. The city was then subjected to a year-long siege that has been described as a medieval Stalingrad, drawing in not just armies but the city’s inhabitants in vicious streetfighting. Finally, al-Mamun triumphed and al-Amin was killed. But the death of Amin was by no means the end, as other rivals appeared, and for six years al-Mamun attempted to rule from Merv, moving to Baghdad only in 819. Even then he faced a great deal of opposition in the west, and for the remaining fourteen years of his life he spent much of his time engaged in battles with opposition inside the Islamic empire, and against the Byzantines.
Dreaming of Aristotle
Alongside a lust for power, al-Mamun’s rule was also characterised as a time when science and scholarship were at their peak. Al-Mamun is regarded by historians as the great champion of rationalism, and as the caliph who promoted science more than any other. It is said that once, when al-Mamun achieved a victory over the Byzantines, he asked from them as reparation not gold nor any other such mundane treasures, but a copy of Ptolemy’s great book on astronomy, the Almagest.
There is a famous story telling how al-Mamun once saw Aristotle in a dream. Several versions of the story exist. Here is one transcript of the exchange:
Al-Mamun to Aristotle: What is good?
Aristotle: That which is in the mind.
Al-Mamun: What more is good?
Aristotle: That which is in the law.
Al-Mamun: What more?
Aristotle: The will of the people.
Al-Mamun: And what more?
Aristotle: There is no more.
In another more elaborate version, Aristotle explains that reason and revelation are not in opposition – that Man should seek God’s truth by opening his mind to the power of reason rather than by waiting for divine revelation. He then goes on to instruct al-Mamun to turn all resources to translating the great works of thought and knowledge into Arabic, for ‘Knowledge has no borders, wisdom has no race or nationality. To block out ideas is to block out the kingdom of God.’
The story then goes on to tell how, on waking, al-Mamun instructs men to go to Byzantium and bring back all the greatest books, to go to Gundeshapur in Persia and bring back the contents of its great library, to find all the best scholars and translators, and finally to build a centre at the court in Baghdad for learning and scholarship which he will call the House of Wisdom.
The House of Wisdom
Much attention has been paid to al-Mamun’s House of Wisdom. Some researchers describe it as an institution for studying science and philosophy. It was here, according to such a view, that all the greatest scholars worked and debated, where there was the non-
stop whisper of pens on paper as the great classical works were translated into Arabic. In this version, it was both a visionary scientific research institute and a proto-university. In fact, little is known about the House of Wisdom, and many historians now think its status as a university or research centre has been overplayed. It was almost certainly a library of books, and also a place for some translation as well as some astronomy, especially in al-Mamun’s last years. But beyond that, the evidence from manuscripts is not solid enough to know more.
Still, it is clear that al-Mamun’s interest in science was deep and genuine. Besides the House of Wisdom, he set up one of Islam’s first observatories at Shamsiya in 829, and from the start it was making key updates to ancient astronomy such as the measurement of the solar apogee and the motions of the planets. He also had a map of the world drawn with as much accuracy as possible with the current state of knowledge. And in the 820s he instructed the Banu Musa brothers to check something that he had read in a translation of a work by Ptolemy. This was a measurement of the circumference of the earth, given as 28,000 kilometres. With great ingenuity, the Banu Musa made their calculations and established the circumference to 32,000 kilometres. Yet al-Mamun was still not satisfied as we now know the real figure is 40,000 kilometres. He sent the Banu Musa off to repeat the exercise in another place. With a caliph this interested in scientific precision, it’s hardly surprising that advances in science took off in such strides.
Helping on al-Mamun’s great earth measurement project was one of the greatest of all the Muslim scientists, the brilliant al-Khwarizmi, and it was under the patronage of al-Mamun that al-Khwarizmi did most of his best work. Some sources suggest that al-Khwarizmi was attached to the House of Wisdom; others say that he worked independently. Either way, al-Mamun’s Baghdad was the perfect setting for his talents to flourish. When he arrived there, he would have found Hunayn ibn-Ishaq translating Euclid’s Elements, others translating Pythagoras, still more translating Archimedes’ work on spheres and circles, and much, much more. Moreover, he was given the resources to trace key manuscripts all the way to India. Perhaps nowhere in the ancient world but Baghdad and at no other time but al-Mamun’s would al-Khwarizmi have been able to fulfil his potential so spectacularly, as we’ll see in later chapters.
A reasonable ruler?
There seems little doubt that al-Mamun played a major role in creating an encouraging setting for science in Baghdad and driving the translation movement. He championed scholarship for the sake of knowledge and for pragmatic political reasons. After all, the empire was still not entirely finished with wars, both at home and against Byzantium. The Abbasids were connected to the Prophet’s family, but al-Mamum had just killed his brother and was keen to emphasise that he was the rational choice as caliph and linked to the divinely chosen family. Interestingly, he made a point of saying that Ali, Muhammad’s cousin, was the best human being after the Prophet. So he was treading a careful line between opposing factions.
Launching a war on Byzantium in 830 may also have been a useful way of proving that he was a committed Muslim. On the way back from one campaign, he had the inscription changed on the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem to suggest that he, and not the Umayyad Caliph Abd al-Malik, was the builder. Probably few were fooled, but it shows that public perceptions were high in al-Mamun’s mind.
Al-Mamun’s PR, if it was his, worked with many who told stories about him. He was portrayed as the arch-rationalist, the driving force behind the modernisation of Islam and the great champion of science and scholarship. He listened to a group of scholars called the Mutazilites. Later, the Mutazilites came to be seen as heretics by many Muslims, but their views may have made sense to al-Mamun because he wanted to build a powerful state based on reason.
The Mutazilites believed, like all Muslims, that the Qur’an is God’s eternal word. However, in their view, it was created under God’s guidance, and had not existed forever. They believed, too, that human reason is the key to wisdom and understanding God. This idea came partly from the input of Greek philosophy, but it was also a strand that had long been present in Islamic thinking, with its concept of ilm (knowledge) and aql (human intelligence and reason).
The Rationalist Inquisition
Yet, ironically, for all their defence of reason, the Mutazilites and al-Mamun forced their beliefs on others in an unreasonable way. The theological debates and battles that went on at this time have been far too simply characterised as a battle between the rationalists led by al-Mamun and traditionalists who believed the Qur’an was not created but had always existed. Yet the so-called traditionalists, in the long run, turned out to be in some ways the more radical, or at least seemed to be fighting against an authoritarian status quo. Al-Mamun resorted to defending his position, and suppressing the growing opposition to it, with his own thought police or Inquisition called the mihna.
In the last year of his life, al-Mamun ordered that the governors of each of his provinces round up scholars to confess that the Qur’an had been created. Those who refused were dismissed from public office, put in jail, and even flogged. Many who would otherwise have agreed with al-Mamun refused to confess, as they regarded the whole affair as the unwarranted interference of the state in personal affairs. In protest, some scholars would play mind games highly reminiscent of the interrogations of the Stalinist years, as the following exchange between the governor of Baghdad and a scholar-jurist called Bishr shows.
Governor to Bishr: What do you say about the Qur’an?
Bishr: It’s the speech of God.
Governor: That was not my question. Is it created?
Bishr: God is the creator of everything.
Governor: Isn’t the Qur’an such a thing?
Bishr: Yes.
Governor: So it’s created?
Bishr: It isn’t the same as a creator.
Governor: That’s not what I am asking. Is it created?
Bishr: I have nothing more to say.
(From Al Ma’mun by Michael Cooperson, Oneworld, 2005)
When word of such exchanges reached al-Mamun, he gave orders to behead dissenters. Under this threat, most climbed down. But it’s hardly surprising that many Muslims now see al-Mamun not as the champion of reason and the initiator of Islam’s Golden Age of Science but as an irreligious dictator who curtailed free speech.
The resistance
Perhaps al-Mamun’s biggest mistake, in retrospect, was his persecution of Ahmad ibn-Hanbal, a major figure in Islamic theology and the founder of Islam’s fourth school of law. Ibn-Hanbal believed that the caliph should have authority in political matters but not spiritual matters. This was a direct challenge to al-Mamun, who also saw ibn-Hanbal as a threat to science and rationalism and believed that nothing less than force would be needed to sideline ibn-Hanbal’s views.
In 833, ibn-Hanbal was summoned to appear before al-Mamun, but the caliph died before ibn-Hanbal could reach him and he was brought instead before al-Mamun’s successor, his brother al-Mutasim. The new caliph asked ibn-Hanbal to repeat what had been asked of him: that the Qur’an had been created by God. Ibn-Hanbal replied that such theological arguments were divisive, and that it was better for all if everyone agreed that the Qur’an was God’s word and left it at that. The caliph would have none of this, and ibn-Hanbal was flogged. He wouldn’t budge, and was taken to prison, where he spent the next 28 months. On his release, he was placed under house arrest.
The opposition to the rationalists now had its hero and martyr. Many years later, in his book Heirs of the Prophets, Rajab al-Hanbali, a follower of ibn-Hanbal’s school of thinking, described those scholars – including the great scientists – who went with al-Mamun as being corrupt and beholden to the state. In contrast, those like Ahmad ibn-Hanbal were described as honest and righteous. Science and learning were therefore seen as synonymous with cruelty and dictatorship. Such a perception, however, would not be confined to the citizens of the Abbasid caliphs.
The pyramid quest
> It’s hard at this distance in time to see which picture of al-Mamun is more accurate – the enlightened champion of reason and hero of Islamic science, or the power-obsessed, irreligious dictator. It’s likely that truths can be found in both. There is one story about him which seems to typify either his hunger for knowledge or his hunger for the power that goes with knowledge.
Apparently, word reached al-Mamun that the Great Pyramid of Giza contained accurate maps and charts of the earth and the stars. So in 820, he embarked on an expedition to Egypt with a team of engineers and scientists. For days, they scoured the smooth northern slope of the pyramid for a way in. Unable to find one, al-Mamun had his team hammer away at likely places. Making little or no progress, they tried heating the rocks with large fires and pouring cold vinegar on the hot limestones. Eventually, some of the masonry cracked, and al-Mamun’s team found a way in. Still, plug after plug barred their way, and it must have required enormous determination to keep on going. At last, though, they found a chamber, now thought to be the Queen’s chamber, but the chamber was empty … Or was it?
6
The Flowering of Andalusia
A palm tree stands in the middle of Rusafah
Born in the west, far from the land of palms
I said to it: How like me you are, far away and in exile
In long separation from family and friends,
You have sprung from soil in which you are a stranger
And I like you, am far from home
Poem written in Cordoba by the exiled Umayyad prince Abd al-Rahman, founder of the Umayyad dynasty in Andalusia
Although it may not have seemed that way at the time, the Abbasid revolution in 750 was to contribute over the centuries to a deepening chasm in the Islamic world, between east and west, and between Shia and Sunni Muslims. It was no doubt to avoid any future challenge to their rule that the victorious Abbasids invited the Umayyad family to a reconciliation dinner in Damascus, then slaughtered every single one of them. Or so they thought.