God's Armies

by Malcolm Lambert

  Within, the magnificent mosaics of Byzantine craftsmen convey both crowns and jewels, symbols of power, and paradisal imagery of fruit and flowers, anticipating an ultimate Islamic Garden of Eden. The years of disturbance before Abd al-Malik had led Muslims to a high expectation of an imminent Last Judgement and all were conscious of the fact that Jerusalem was the site destined for this event. Extracts from the Quran make plain that Islam had superseded the other monotheisms of Judaism and Christianity. Space is given to Muhammad and his work of intercession for sinful humanity and there are denunciations of Christian belief that God can have a son, but these are put quietly. Jesus was a prophet and his work is praised, but that work is now past and completed. The next and final stage was the intercessory work of Muhammad.

  The Limits of Conquest: North Africa and Spain

  Under the Umayyads, Islamic conquest reached its term. Abd al-Malik sent 40,000 men to take the North African coastline back from the Byzantines, whose troubles eased his army’s progress. Abd al-Malik’s brother, governor of Egypt, took a hand after Abd al-Malik’s forces had reached what is now the frontier between Tunisia and Algeria and appointed his own man, Musa ibn Nusayr, the son of a slave captured in the glory days of the early caliphate and one of the great battlefield commanders, to carry the conquest forward. He had considerable success in exploiting the divisions between the wild Berber tribesmen in the mountains and converting a corps of warriors from their ranks who took Tangier, crossed to the mainland and began to plunder the treasures of southern Spain. Musa took over with a largely Arab army and subdued the Christian Visigoths, troubled by a succession dispute after the death of King Wizita, pushing the remnants of their leadership back to a position guarded by fortresses on the edge of the Pyrenees on a line south of the Cantabrian mountains. It was the prelude to 800 years of Muslim occupation in the Iberian peninsula. The limits of conquest reached in 716 fell effectively within the reign of Abd al-Malik’s son and successor, Caliph al-Walid I (705–15), although there were later raids into southern France.

  Iran, India, Transoxania

  On the eastern side of the Islamic Empire, the limits of conquest were also reached under the Umayyads, with the exception of Transoxania. Caliph Umar had initiated the conquest of Iran by sending out an army to bring Sassanian rule to an end. The last Sassanian king, Yadzgard III, sought to revive his dynasty after it had been racked by internal disputes. His troops fought for him at the little town of Nihavand in 642 and at Istikhar, capital of the Fars region, where heroic resistance led to massacre, plunder of its riches and destruction of Zoroastrian fire-temples. More often, however, local rulers who had lost allegiance to the dynasty made terms and paid tribute as Umar’s army pressed on by the southern route through the Zagros mountains to the Sassanian heartlands. At the fortress of Merv, Yadzgard was refused entry; he met his end in destitution at the farthest limit of his lands, in Khurasan. Sassanian institutions collapsed, yet, paradoxically, Persian language and culture survived. Belief in Islam prevailed, but as there was only limited garrisoning at this stage, local rulers kept a measure of independence, keeping Arabic for the Quran and for intellectual life but not surrendering spoken Persian and the literature which flowed from it. Later Arab expeditions seeking a full-blown conquest came up against problems of terrain and climate within Iran and southern Afghanistan and lost momentum.

  In the far south-east, just as in the Iberian peninsula, the limits of conquest were reached in the caliphate of al-Walid I. Conquests in India, occasioned by a punitive expedition followed by an act of piracy, were commissioned by Abd al-Malik’s general al-Hajjaj and carried through by the latter’s cousin Muhammad ibn Qasim, who crossed the Indus river, braving elephants in the enemy army and showing toleration to alien religions: he discreetly decided to treat as honorary dhimmis both the Buddhists and the Hindus. Brave soldiering, use of a siege weapon and the capable exercising of command carried the Muslim attackers through. Al-Hajjaj died in 714, and his cousin, a statesman as much as a military man, fell victim to the change of regime on al-Walid’s death, after which he was dismissed and died in prison.

  On the north-eastern frontier Khurasan and its numerous settlers formed an army ready to press forward and take land across the Oxus. But this proved more difficult than might have been expected. There were riches to be gained, but in a first phase soldiers only raided, returning to winter quarters. Al-Hajjaj believed he had found a good instrument of policy in a certain Qutayba, who came from a little-known tribe, with no strong local commitments. Qutayba took tribute from rulers beyond the Oxus but proved to be harsh and oppressive; he alienated his troops and was assassinated. Tribute-taking was all he achieved and, after Qutayba’s death, campaigners found that Turkish nomads in the region were resilient and resourceful opponents. Plunder came back across the river, but it was only in 750 that small garrisons were finally installed in Bukhara and Samarqand. There was a late, ill-recorded clash with the Chinese by an Arab force deep in Central Asia at Talas in 751, which resulted in a defeat for the Chinese emperor’s army. The Arabs and the Chinese never fought again, and the Arabs did not advance to make conquests along the Silk Road. The Tang dynasty’s internal problems prevented a Chinese counter-attack, but it is believed that the capture of artisans at the battle introduced the Islamic world to the use of paper – a momentous event.

  The weakness of opponents aided the great expansion of Islamic rule. The fighting between the Byzantine Empire and Sassanian Persia caused grave losses on both sides, leaving them totally unprepared for the intervention of a new power from Arabia. Plague, we may strongly suspect, reduced populations and made it hard for survivors to man defences effectively and engage new enemies: the interest of Muslims in capturing slaves in great numbers points to a widespread shortage of manpower. Centralisation of command by both Byzantium and the Sassanians had the paradoxical effect of undermining their powers of resistance: once central leadership failed, local militias and small-scale powers were no longer ready to act in their place.

  The desert bred warriors. The literature of Arabia celebrated the solitary, tough and courageous hero. Given the justification of jihad for the raiding which had long been a solace and release from the dullness of an age-old pastoral routine, excellent armies were created, salaried in consequence of wise early decisions by Abu Bakr and Umar rather than receiving land grants in reward, and inspired by belief in the righteousness of their cause. There was no mass migration; families could follow afterwards and settle in towns. Bedouin were accustomed to live hard and accept a low diet and in consequence early armies did not need a supply train and acquired an extraordinary mobility. They were consoled in death by the rewards of paradise and in success by rich booty. The result was to raise armies with a remarkably high, battle-winning morale. Caliphs were open-minded about promoting outsiders as generals: Khalid, the former opponent of Muhammad at the battle of Uhud, who won the victory at Yarmuk; the slave’s son Musa ibn Nusayr, the conqueror of al-Andalus; the youthful Thagafi Muhammad ibn Qasim, with his precocious military and diplomatic skills.

  But caliphs were ungrateful: Khalid ended in disgrace; Musa ibn Nusayr, ordered away from the lands of conquest, was imprisoned and died; the same fate befell Muhammad ibn Qasim. Tragic as the fates of these men were, they demonstrated the power of the caliphate to control what happened in its vast territories and to ensure that no successful general could build up an independent domain for himself. Neither the Byzantines nor the Sassanians were so open to promoting talent irrespective of origin and they were much more vulnerable to usurpation of power by generals.

  Rule by Muslims after the trauma of conquest was by no means burden-some, allowing many to continue to lead their lives much as before. Amr’s little army which took Egypt respected the Monophysite Christians. An illuminating example from al-Andalus is the treaty made in 713 by a son of Musa ibn Nusayr with a Visigothic nobleman which guaranteed his territorial rights, his churches and his freedom of worship in return
for payment of tribute in money and in kind. Cases differed, and personal relationships mattered, but there are grounds for thinking that a generous understanding of jizya and the role of monotheists eased the way to acceptance of Muslim rule.

  Often it was easier to accept Islamic rule rather than to fight against it, and over time certain broad likenesses between the monotheisms – Islam itself, Judaism and Christianity –facilitated a process of conversion which extended over a long period of time but ended by bringing into being the Muslim Near East familiar to us today. As with the Quran, the Jews had Hebrew Scriptures, the Christians their Bible, and names familiar to the older monotheisms – Abraham, Moses and Jesus – reappeared in different guises. Both Islam and Judaism rejected the eating of pork. A dominant Islamic culture established itself, was recognised and respected and attracted recruits, all aided by peaceful contacts not well recorded in Arabic sources which were concerned in the traditional style with narratives of campaigns and warrior heroes.

  The ending of the second civil war and the long and successful rule of Abd al-Malik which followed made plain that a hereditary caliphate was set to become the norm in Islamic lands. The wealth of the caliphs and their powers of patronage affected interpretation of the Quran, stimulating scholars to put forward militarist at the expense of peacemaking interpretations and to insist on the duty of all able-bodied Muslims to obey a call to war issued by the caliph. Scholars who served the caliphate in this way will have been aware of the pressures exerted on the broad Islamic lands by external enemies and the effects of restive populations within the frontiers.

  A body of scholars working independently, often of holy life and limited resources, writing commentaries on the Quran – a tafsir literature long overlooked by researchers – contested the views expressed in the caliphal tradition, emphasising that peaceful persuasion and forbearance were just as important as the call to warfare in the cause of Islam in the text of the Quran and made plain that verses on this had been discounted and overridden by the militarists. As well as this literature, the hadith, the body of traditions about the life and teaching of Muhammad, gives us clues on how the militarist school of interpretation grew more prominent over time.

  Jihad has often been cited as if it was a term standing on its own and meaning, simply, ‘holy war’. This does not do justice to the Quranic text. With very rare exceptions, it is linked to the phrase ‘in the path of God’: thus, ‘striving in the path of God’, with multiple meanings. If the striving is associated with the term qital, ‘war’, then there can be no doubt that it means armed combat; if, on the other hand, it is associated with the term sabr, ‘patient forbearance’, then it refers not to physical combat at all but to a number of peaceful possibilities. Different scholars in the peaceful tradition have different emphases and views have solidified over time. Some found justification in the words of the Quran; others favoured peaceful persuasion; others chose patient endurance under oppression; and finally the majority came to see it as, above all, the combat with the evil passions of the soul. These scholars tended to speak of a lesser and a greater jihad. The lesser jihad was hedged with restrictions and its incidence as an obligation to armed combat was, in their view, a relatively rare event. The greater jihad, which could never be abandoned and was incumbent on all the faithful throughout life, was the inner struggle with demons – the egotistical, evil passions in the soul.

  The rivals developed opposed doctrines of martyrdom. Hawks and doves among the scholars battled over the search for priorities among the varied texts of the Quran. Militarists pushed for a technique of abrogation by which decisions were made on the priority of certain texts which suited their purposes as against others which did not. The doves rejected this outright.

  When the hawks had their way, a martyrdom in war issued in potent battlefield symbolism. Traditionally, the body of the devout Muslim was washed before being wrapped for burial, while by contrast the body of a soldier who died fighting in a righteous cause was left unwashed in the bloody garments in which he met his death. He needed no prayers and his supporters could dispense with the normal ritual accompanying death. The blood was, as it were, his ticket to instant paradise. Doves would have none of this. For them the devout believer fasting, strenuously engaging in prayer over and above the set times imposed on all, using resources in obedience to God’s will, who died in bed and not on the battlefield, was a martyr quite as much as the military martyr.

  Debate, thus initiated at the time of the Umayyad caliphate, had a long future.

  The Abbasid Caliphate (750–1258)

  Over time Merv had become a boom town, awash with booty obtained from raiding across the Oxus river, an area of great riches and great poverty. It was cosmopolitan in that new settlers and merchants intermarried with Persians and were influenced not only by their culture but also by the aristocratic pride of the Sassanians and their strong sense of independence. Khurasan was equally prosperous and independent. But the poor and observant Muslims in both places felt neglected by Umayyad caliphs, who were twenty days’ journey away, and by their unsympathetic local governors. Thus the massive Muslim settlements in and around Khurasan were a prime source of unrest. They were not alone. Syrian troops had crushed the Kufans, but there were still embers of rebellion, and in about 720 one Kufan, disguised as a wandering perfume seller, made contact with the head of the Meccan clan of Abbasids, a meeting which led to the rise of a new dynasty.

  The view took hold that only a return to the family of Muhammad would right things and enable a return to the simplicity of the Prophet and of the earliest caliphs. The Abbasid family came to believe that they could fill the gap and bring in better times. They interpreted descent loosely, as in direct line the Abbasids were descendants not of the Prophet but of al-Abbas, Muhammad’s uncle, who had not accepted Islam; but they stressed descent from Muhammad’s ancestor Hisham, and that at the time seems to have satisfied opinion.

  In Khurasan the remarkable Abu Muslim became an energetic missionary for the Abbasid cause. He bore an assumed name and it was rumoured that he was the son of a Kurdish slave girl but the obscurity of his origin as well as his message appealed to the weak and poor of the area, enabling him to recruit effectively. He had great military skill, raising an army to defy the Umayyads.

  At first sight, despite the achievements of Abu Muslim, the odds seemed to be stacked against an Abbasid seizure of the caliphate because of the attachments of loyalty and self-interest of the governors and tribal chiefs in the Muslim world farther to the west of Khurasan. However, discreet pressure and inducements won a proportion of these crucial personalities to the new cause, and in the mosque at Kufa in October 749 leading men gave their hand and their loyalty to an acceptable Abbasid candidate, who reigned as Caliph al-Suffa. In 750 at the River Zab, outside Mosul, an Abbasid force, blooded by much fighting against the Turks at the far eastern end of Islamic lands and relying on their technique of a spear wall against cavalry, defeated the Umayyads and ended their reign.

  The first, gently reticent, Abbasid caliph, al-Suffa, died in 754 and was succeeded by his brother, al-Mansur the Victorious (754–75). He was the true creator of the Abbasid caliphal dynasty and not a warrior but a masterful, brilliant administrator with a touch of genius. There was never any doubt about his own piety. He banned alcohol: the distinguished doctor who treated him was, as a Christian and a dhimmi, not bound to teetotalism, but at the caliph’s table he had to be content with Tigris water, which he tactfully pronounced to be as good as wine. Music was prohibited as un-Islamic and, when a eunuch in the palace thinking he was out of earshot played his mandolin to a slave girl, he found the caliph’s wrath descend on him, as his mandolin was broken over his head and he was sold into slavery.

  Mansur’s miserliness was legendary, so the conspicuous, wasteful expenditure of Uthman or the Umayyads generally was emphatically avoided. He kept the tradition of the early caliphs and sat regularly receiving in person the petitions of his subjects and actin
g on them. He had the gift of eloquence; his presiding over Friday prayers was no formality, as his audience packed in to hear him and was moved week by week by the cadences of his exhortations. But for the wishes of the minority within Islam who had grown restive with the Umayyads he had no sympathy at all.

  He ran his vast lands with imperialist efficiency, devoting hours each day to intelligence reports from confidential agents far and near, independent of Islamic judges, the qadis, and governors, on whom they gave vital information. Food prices were also reported, for he knew how sensitive they were as indicators of unrest. It was a spider’s web of control, ensuring smooth payment of taxes, an absence of rebellion and, in correlation with taxpaying, the maintenance of a standing army of Khurasanis to defend caliphal interests. Mansur was aware that his imperialism would disquiet those who had made the Abbasid revolution and he kept a keen eye on the Alids – that is, the direct descendants of Ali and Fatima – and on Ali’s supporters generally.

  In 762 Mansur decided to create a new capital at Baghdad. Skilled irrigation works made the lands between the Tigris and the Euphrates very fertile and the most lucrative taxpaying territories in all the Islamic world. It was sensible to place a new capital here, away from Damascus and its Umayyad associations. In his hard-headed way Mansur understood that a brand-new site would be much the cheapest option: a virgin site with open lands to reward followers. Caliphs attracted officials and merchants and big populations, so Mansur chose a site with easy access to food supplies and goods. Land use could be planned and mosques, palaces and barracks built as desired. Over time it became a focus for learned men, a seedbed for poets, historians, administrators and translators, and important for the West as its scholars recovered classical learning and made a channel for conveying it to other scholars in western lands. A round city went up, with millions of bricks laid at the lowest possible costs through hard bargaining with contractors, and with gates leading to Syria, Khurasan, Basra and Kufa. The walls kept the caliph secure and provided barracks for the Khurasani, not always popular in other parts of the Islamic world but protectors for the caliph, his treasures and his bureaucrats.